A/N: Heyho, so this actually appears on a normal schedule, yay! Thank you so much for all the nice reviews! It truly means a lot to me. I'll hopefully be able to post the next chapter on Wednesday next week.

This chapter has a little twist to the last one but ... you'll see. Very interested what you think about this chapter, it actually makes me a bit nervous, lol. :D Hope you enjoy reading it.

Chapter 7 - Missing Socks

Returning to Washington had been a shock to all senses. Driving home from the airport, Lisbon had been met with a snow storm, and today the hard reality that she'd lost her job. The FBI knew of her encounter with Jane, and she had been asked to appear in front of a trial yet again. The date wasn't set yet, but Lisbon already felt tired. Tired of the sight of courtrooms.

Sadly she couldn't really blame Jane for losing her job this time. She wanted to, but she couldn't. It had been her decision to head down to Venezuela and find him. And for what? Nothing, apparently. Besides the hint that Adler worked for some mysterious woman in the FBI. He had nothing to do with the Blake Association after all. Nothing made sense. And to top that the FBI had learned of Jane's whereabouts.

The only thought of comfort that remained was that they couldn't put their hands on him. There wasn't an extradition treaty with the US allowing the FBI to carry him back home and lock him into prison. Forever. If he was that lucky. But living on the island practically all by himself was just like living in a bigger prison.

But what did she care? She felt bad for him, was worried about him, had risked loosing and in the end even lost her job for him - twice. Had he cared? No. Neither about the danger he was in, nor her feelings. Nor what trouble she'd gone through for him.

Returning home after a useless day at the police station where she'd been told she'd been replaced, Lisbon sighed, realizing that nothing had changed at all. It was exactly the way it had always been. Her risking her neck for him and Jane taking it as granted. He had played her like he'd always done and expected her just to accept his unacceptable behavior.

Checking her mailbox to see if she had missed any bills, her fingers freezing in the humid cold of Washington's winter, she pulled out some advertisement and a letter from Jane. But her initiate surprise and excitement vanished, as she glanced at the submission date. The letter had been issued before she had arrived on the island. It probably arrived with the rest of her mail while she had been away.

A knot forming in her throat, Lisbon headed inside, trying to ignore the strange sensation in her stomach building a knot there that felt like it was eating away at her heart. Exhausted from a day spent trying to put in a word to get her job back before having to realize they knew she'd been with Jane and finally giving up and accepting her fate, she'd planned to go straight to bed, and it was probably for the best just to go ahead with that plan.

There was nothing new in this letter anyway. Jane had told her everything he'd written already, shown her everything and even apologized for the time he'd left her stranded at the beach. It had felt … different. Like he understood and cared.

But when she took out the box containing all of Jane's letters to her, which she had collected over the past two years, carefully sorted by date and kept safe from sunlight, so the ink wouldn't fade, she felt the tears rising back into her eyes. Two years, two years which she had spent trying to build a new life, trying to move on, and yet spending each and every week looking forward to Jane's new letters. Two a week. Sometimes they had been a bit repetitive but never boring. They contained Jane's words after all. They had been all of him that had remained to her. That and an even smaller box tucked away safely in her bedroom. She'd never taken out the content of that box though, not even to see if her request had been properly fulfilled. She didn't dare letting it tear her heart into tiny pieces. She needed to move on.

Now more than ever.

Her fingers were shaking as she pushed the letters in the box to one side, so she could fit the new letter just beside them at the very front of the box in perfect chronological order with the others. Feeling bile and bitterness rising in her throat she fought it down, her thumb carefully running along the top line of the recent letter only half tucked away. Unwanted, unasked for, memories returned, memories she'd tried to push away, tried to ignore since she had boarded that plane.

It had been the softness in his eyes, his arm around her body, his fingers tipping up her chin right before he'd kissed her, that had made her lightheaded with excitement, hoping, hoping against better judgement.

Now thinking back, Lisbon realized he hadn't even had the guts to properly kiss her. It hadn't been a tease, she'd seen it in his eyes. Eyes that had been dark with longing. But he'd turned it into a tease before anything real could've happened. He'd robbed them of yet another moment that could've been so much more.

Pain threatening to tear her heart apart, Lisbon had taken the first few of his stupid letters out of the box and thrown them through the room. She'd thought he'd cared! More letters were sent flying. She'd accepted that there would never be anything more than friendship between them, but he'd made her hope! She'd let herself fall to be caught in his arms, had trusted, but he, the bastard, had dropped her like a hot potato. Letter after letter was flying through her living room as Lisbon tried to fight the iron hand that was clasping for her heart, first swallowing, then gasping for air as if she was going to suffocate.

But she couldn't fight it. Couldn't win. There was too much pain, too much of everything, and she couldn't handle it anymore. When the box was empty, Lisbon let herself fall backwards to sit on the couch, hiding her face in her hands and crying helplessly like she hadn't done since she had been only a little child. Her sobs the only sound in the condo. She was all alone, like she'd always been. Jane - Jane being there for her, caring about her, it had only been a dream, an illusion she had painted for herself, wishing it to be true, that behind his quest for revenge he had actually cared about her as well. But it wasn't true, all he had ever seen had been himself and his stupid hunt for Red John.

Still, her gaze falling on the living room in a chaos of all his letters, her vision blurred from tears, she cried only stronger, her heart breaking at the sight of them carelessly thrown around. With shaking legs she got up from the couch, picking up the first ones, her hands trembling as she attempted to sort them back into chronological order. They were all she had left of the dream she'd once had.

Lisbon sat down again, feeling empty. It was the first time she'd truly admitted so to herself. She loved Patrick Jane. His smile, his antics that would drive her nuts, the way he was able to make her smile even on the worst days. She loved him. It wasn't just a crush, maybe it had been in the beginning, because the man was illegally charming, but it had long grown to be more. Much more. And she couldn't deny that she treasured every single word he'd ever written to her.

She spent the rest of the evening carefully picking up the letters again and sorting them back into the box in chronological order, careful to fold them back the way they had been and straighten out places where the corners had been kinked, while tears kept running down her cheeks in hot streaks.

-x-

A few days later Lisbon carried a heavy tote bag full of groceries to the kitchen, the cotton loops cutting into the palm of her hand. Sighing as she could finally set it down besides the kitchen counter, she turned to the fridge, meaning to open it to put away what needed to be kept cold, but froze in place, her eyes fixed on the single item that was hanging on the door of the fridge, held by a simple gray magnet.

It was a photo that had been taken long ago, their CBI team at a Christmas party Rigsby had organized without Lisbon's knowledge. The photo was perfect, taken by Cho whose face was only half visible as he was standing in front of Rigsby wearing a Santa hat while singing karaoke with Grace. Not far from them Jane had snuck up behind Lisbon with a sheepish grin on his face, trying to put a green elf's hat on Lisbon's head. The thing had been way too big for her and had slid down over her ears and eyes only held by the tip of her nose. The picture had been taken right at the moment she had lifted the front of it to peek out underneath it, and with a smile on her face roll her eyes at the man with the golden curls and his charming grin.

His stupid charming grin, perfectly captured for eternity. Grinding her teeth, Lisbon rapidly opened the fridge to get the damn photo out of her sight and unpack her newly bought groceries.

Six days had gone by since she'd last seen Jane and the loss was worse than anything else. For a moment there, she'd felt whole, even though at the time she'd thought they were dealing with their greatest foe again - or what was left of him. And now, everything was gone again.

She hadn't applied for a new job yet. She would get one, that wasn't the problem, but she would be degraded again - Chief Lisbon was gone. Now it would likely be 'Officer Lisbon' with someone to closely watch every single step she took. They would hire her for her expertise and skill and take credit for her accomplishments. It wasn't that she minded much anymore, she was just tired.

Briefly she had entertained the thought of going to the bar tonight, but she wasn't in the mood to let her face be seen in town. Grocery shopping had been tedious enough with people asking questions at every corner. She would move again, that much was certain, not because she couldn't deal with the questions, they would stop eventually, but it would be easier to find a new job elsewhere where they needed more hands.

-x-

After she'd had her dinner, Lisbon finally settled on her couch meaning to read Jane's letter. Her dinner hadn't been anything fancy, just a simple potato casserole, but having the time to do so now, she was determined to cut down on her consumption of microwaved food. She couldn't exactly tell how she'd ended up sitting on the couch with Jane's letter in her hands, knowing that it would only cause her more pain, but it had become such a tradition during the last two years, without anything else to keep her busy, it was an easy pattern to return to. Even though there would probably not be any more letters.

Placing her glass of red wine on the living room table besides the box containing all of Jane's letters to her, she sat down, her legs lying comfortably crossed on the couch.

Reading what she already heard from Jane himself didn't feel as repetitive as she had feared - on the contrary, it woke all the recent memories. She could see the dolphins he'd shown her right in front of her, hear him complaining about the tailor, taste the sea air on her tongue and feel the midday heat. The constant soft breeze in her hair. It was horrible.

She knew the places he wrote about and could hear his voice to the words clearer than ever before. His hand on her hip as they danced, slow and so close she could feel his muscles moving under his shirt, his lips brushing hers.

She only noticed she was crying when a tear fell on the letter, threatening to blur the writing. Hurriedly she got out a tissue to carefully dry the letter which she then set on the coffee table, before she dried the tears from her cheeks with a second tissue. Frustrated with herself, she stuffed it into her jeans pocket, chastising herself with a grumbled 'Get a grip on yourself, Teresa'.

Finally sure she wouldn't damage the letter further, she picked it back up, her hands shaking slightly as she continued to read. The last part was him apologizing for leaving her before confronting the Red John suspects, but what he hadn't told her about, what she wasn't prepared for, was the very last sentence of the letter.

You being absent is the one thing that's made this new chapter strange and sad.

Nothing had prepared her for this. And Lisbon didn't even know what it was about that sentence … but as she read it she had a feeling like something inside her had just been broken. The last words blurred in front of her eyes with the tears returning.

Miss you

U no hoo

Lisbon hurried to put the letter away again, but this time she didn't manage to dry off her tears before they were rolling down her cheeks in hot streams. No, this time she pulled her knees to her chest, ending up sitting on her couch in a fetal position, crying audibly. All that pain, the buried loneliness and the grief about how they'd parted, her last words for him, full of bitterness, finally finding a crack in her carefully built facade and breaking through. Spilling out in hot tears and sobs that she couldn't suppress any longer.

When the tears finally subsided they left her shivering. She was gasping for breath and slowly rocking back and forth with her head resting on her knees, her arms slung around her legs, a cold creeping into her body that could not be fought with more layers of clothing. Nevertheless, still shivering and feeling her lips quiver with the silent sobs, she reached over the back of her couch and pulled the Mexican blanket from behind there to wrap it around herself. It didn't help much, but at least it came somewhat close to someone holding her. Hugging her and keeping her company. A rug. But there had rarely ever been much else. Her life had always forced her to deal with things on her own, till she had grown used to it, till Jane had shown up. Jane who could read her like a book, offering comfort before she even knew she needed it.

The thought made memories return to her of the way Jane had hugged her when they first met on the island, tight and long so that she closed her eyes, breathing in his scent as he slightly swayed them on the spot. His arm around her when she'd woken in his bed, the night they'd danced. His kiss, so soft and sweet. She was crying again before she even realized doing so.

Lisbon didn't know how long she'd been sitting there curled into a fetal position when the sound of the doorbell ringing its awfully loud tune almost made her jump off the couch. The blanket still wrapped around her body, she swallowed, wondering who in the world would ring on her door at this time of the day. She was certain it had to be past eleven already, likely even close to midnight.

The bell rang again, causing her a slight headache. Grudgingly she got up from the couch though, losing the blanket and straightening her clothes. Loose jeans with cuts over her kneecaps and a green turtleneck pullover. She was glad she hadn't been wearing a blouse tonight - it would have horrible wrinkles by now.

She was drying the recent tears from her cheeks with another tissue as the doorbell sounded again. Somebody was clearly not only lacking a sense of time and human decency but also patience!

By the time she had made it to the door, the bell had sounded a fourth time, increasing her starting headache and making her grumpy. Whoever wanted to speak to her this badly at this inhumanly hour was going to get an earful!

But all the words she'd wanted to throw at that person suddenly left her as she opened the door. Instead, she was rendered speechless, staring at the man standing on her doorstep, sleet collecting on his blond curls and blue suit jacket. Jane.

She didn't know how she was supposed to feel, to react. Not in her dreams would she have imagined him showing up at her doorstep. Here - in Washington! Just a moment ago she had been bawling her eyes out because of him and now with him standing right in front of her, all she felt was empty. Exhausted.

"Oh." It was such a soft sound he uttered, hanging there in the cold air between them, his breath white in the light of the door lamp. Lisbon was sure he could see she had been crying. It didn't make her feel any better. The cold air from outside had her freeze and she put her arms around her torso as Jane went on: "Hello, Teresa."

Lisbon remained silent, but as the minutes passed by and all Jane did was stand there, on her doorstep with his hair and clothes soaking in sleet, she asked dryly: "What are you doing here?" The words came out harsher than intended, but her patience for him was gone.

The expression on his face was almost desperate, his eyes wide. She could see him swallow before his next words left his lips. "There's something I need to say."

Tears collected in her eyes again, burning, and she grabbed the door frame for support. "I don't wanna see you. Go away." Why did he come here? Why did he feel the need to hurt her even more?

"You're right. You're right." Jane said, nodding ever so slightly before the words started to spill out of his mouth. "I-I have forgotten how to act like a normal human being. And I play games, I lie and I - and I trick people to avoid the truth of how I feel. And the idea of letting anyone close to me is - is - is terrifying, for obvious reasons." His voice was stumbling across the words, even breaking. "But the truth, Teresa, is that I can't imagine waking up knowing that I won't see you. The truth is... I love you."

There was a brief pause while the meaning of what he just said sank in, leaving Lisbon swallowing with a feeling of hope yet disbelief spreading in her chest that she couldn't describe to anyone, while the tears were running down her cheeks now. I love you.

Jane let out his breath loudly, flailing his hands. "Whew! You can't imagine how good that feels to say out loud, but it scares me... and it is the truth. It is the truth of what I feel."

Lisbon noticed she was beginning to shake. It was too much, it was all too much. She stepped back a little, avoiding Jane's gaze and as she felt tears shooting into her own eyes she shut the door in his face. She wasn't ready to fully break down with him watching her. Instead, she leaned her back against the door, sliding down till she was sitting on the floor, sobbing helplessly.

What did he think he was doing? Appearing on her doorstep now, a fugitive, saying he loved her? It was too late, in fact years too late!

He loved her. He hadn't said anything like that on the island. There had only been one other incident when he'd used that word, and it had been in a situation where both of them had been high on adrenaline, later he'd pretended not to remember. She still remembered his stupid choice of words. 'Kinda hyped up.' This was different. Lisbon swallowed, swiping the tears from her face with her bare fingers and hastily standing up again to tear the door open, meaning to call after him. "Ja-!"

She turned silent, her heart beating rapidly against her chest. He hadn't moved an inch and her actions had brought her right in front of him, standing barely a hand's width from him. She averted her eyes and took a step back.

"M-maybe it's too late," he added his voice laden with misery while there were tears glistening in his eyes as well now, as he took a tiny step away from her door himself. "And I'd understand. That's okay. I needed to get to this. And you deserve to hear it." He paused again, looking at her for a moment, desperation written in his eyes. Finally, in a subdued tone he offered: "I-I will get myself a motel room."

Lisbon shook her head and stepped aside to let him into the house. "Don't be ridiculous."

The look he gave her somehow reminded her of a puppy, eyes wide, filled with an expression between joy and disbelieve. But he didn't step inside, more sleet collecting in his hair. He understood what she meant, but he didn't dare act on it, before she didn't spell it out for him. Again Lisbon turned her eyes away, looking at her toes wiggling in her socks before she lifted her hand to wipe more tears from her face and said: "Come inside, Jane."

She could feel him walking past her, mumbling a soft and almost timid 'thank you'. Swallowing, Lisbon closed the door behind him and turned around to face him, meeting a shy smile which she returned before pointing in the direction of her living room. "I-I don't have a guest room," she mumbled on their way past the kitchen, "but if that couch isn't too short for you…" her words stopped, but Jane seemed to understand.

"I love that couch." Hearing his teeth clacking, Lisbon turned back to him to muster him more thoroughly. He had dropped the tote sack, but now was rubbing his arms while his entire body was shivering with the cold from his drenched clothes. Why hadn't he brought a raincoat?

"You're wet," Lisbon stated bluntly at the loss for better words.

He gave her half a smile. "It's sleeting."

True enough. Sighing, Lisbon pointed towards the door of her downstairs washroom. "You can take a towel. I'll see if I can find something dry for you to wear." He nodded, then mumbled another soft 'thank you' as she left his side to go up the stairs to her bedroom and look through some of those old clothes she'd stuffed away somewhere.

-x-

When she returned to her living room, Lisbon found Jane sitting on the edge of the couch with a damp towel around his neck, his hair ruffled up from his efforts to dry it. At first she wondered what he was holding in his hands, then she noticed it was the letter she'd been reading and then had had to put aside when she had started crying. She had forgotten it was still lying on the coffee table, or she would've put it away before Jane could see it. Uncomfortably shifting her weight from one leg to the other, she coughed to get his attention.

"Here, those might fit," she said as he looked up at her and carefully placed the letter back on the table as she handed him the clothes. It wasn't anything fancy, just a loose pair of dark sweatpants, she wasn't certain who they had belonged to before, and a white tank top that must've stemmed from one of her brothers that she'd never had the heart to throw out.

Jane didn't seem to mind the age of the items, thanking her when taking them from her and dropping them on the couch, before Lisbon turned around, so he could change freely. She could hear the rustle of him taking off his wet suit behind her though and there was a content sigh as he got into the dry clothes that hopefully warmed his skin. She was tempted to peek, but refrained from doing so, the entire situation already having her feeling uneasy.

"You can turn around, Teresa. I'm decently dressed again. Nothing to see here." The notion of a tease in his voice made her shoulders relax a bit, but looking at him in this new attire, she still had to swallow. Why in God's name had she given him a white tank top? It fit him perfectly and even while the sweatpants were definitely too long and a little baggy he somehow managed to look good. Too good. Lisbon wished she'd had found a baggy hoodie for him, but then, he would likely be able to pull that off as a good look as well. Gangster Jane. Lisbon had to grin at the thought and trying to hide it, she looked down at his naked toes peeking out underneath the too long legs of the sweatpants.

"Where are your socks?" She asked, trying to pass over the sudden flutter in her stomach by wording her most innocuous thought. He'd said he loved her.

Jane smiled, slightly scrunching his face. "I … don't know." He looked down at his feet and wiggled his naked toes.

"I hope you won't freeze. I doubt I have any socks that size."

"Meh." His voice was softer again. "It's fine."

Their eyes met as both of them looked up from his feet at the same time. His gaze was soft as he smiled at her and the flutter in her stomach was threatening to overwhelm her. She found herself smiling slightly in return when she slightly raised her brows and asked: "Did you mean what you said?" She was looking straight at him now, the smile faded. This was an important question.

His reply was taking a load off her shoulders she hadn't realized was there.

"Yes, I did." They were honest words, no trickery, no tease in his voice as he nodded.

"Good," Lisbon mumbled softly, a wide smile forming on her lips.

"Just to be clear, we're talking about socks, right?" he said, gesturing to his feet.

But somehow it didn't irritate her, it was good to see the Jane she knew who wouldn't surpass the opportunity of a harmless tease, and she was still smiling as she said: "No. No. The other thing."

"Oh. That."

Lisbon raised her brows a tad higher. "This is no joking matter."

"Yes," Jane replied, his voice soft again, "I meant what I said. Every word of it."

"Good." she whispered, and, taking a step closer towards him so that she was standing barely a meter from him, she added: "Because I feel the same way."

He grinned at her. "Well, that's lucky."

Smiling softly, Lisbon absentmindedly licked her lips as she requested: "Say it again."

"Say what again?"

She slightly raised her brows again, and it seemed all the invitation he needed, when he raised his hand to tenderly touch underneath her chin tilting her head up to him. As he bent down to her, Lisbon leaned closer, her eyes fluttering shut, her lips parting in anticipation.

His kiss sent sparks through her entire body, the touch of his lips soft and tender as they danced with hers, his stubble slightly scratching her skin. She lifted her hand to his nape, her fingers grazing soft curls at his hairline, responding to him, moving with him and losing herself in this tender kiss so full of affection. But before she could pull him closer he moved back, carefully parting from her.

Opening her eyes, Lisbon found him gazing at her in awe, his fingers still delicately touching her chin. "You're so beautiful," he mumbled, and then, "I missed you.", his voice so low the words were barely audible. His hand moved to gingerly brush a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I… Teresa, I'm sorry for the way I behaved on the island. I-I was so scared, I couldn't-"

Stepping closer, Lisbon pecked his lips, stopping his apology. She understood, partly at least. They would have to talk about it, but right now wasn't the time. He'd said he loved her, and she had seen that he'd meant every word of it. Lingering close to his lips, she replied: "I missed you, too." Then she sank her hand into the curls at the back of his head and pulled him down to kiss him again, deeply, a soft moan escaping her as he returned it, lips pressing against hers, his tongue gently tasting her. One hand in her hair, his other moved to her waist tugging on her, yet when she moved to close the tiny gap that had remained between them, he seemed to alter his plan, steering her backwards in cautiously small steps till her back pressed against a wall.

She welcomed the feeling of his body against hers, both her hands at his neck now, playing with the soft curls, grazing his skin with her fingertips. Still kissing her Jane moved his hand out of her hair and to the wall to her side, steadying himself. His fingers at her waist sliding lower, slipping under the hem of her pullover, touching her skin. He almost seemed to tremble when he pulled away from her lips this time, his breath shallow and fast as hers.

She kept her eyes shut when he rested his forehead against hers, letting the sensation of his touch sink into her skin. She could feel his breath sweeping across her cheek, his hand on her waist caressing her naked skin. Then his lips found her jaw, moving lower, nibbling the sensitive skin right below her ear. She turned her head to the side, his kisses and little nips at her nape just above the turtleneck of her pullover drawing little whimpering sounds from her lips. As well as something that could be his first name.

"Yes?" he muttered close to her ear, a little out of breath. His body was trembling! On the other hand, she was feeling pretty lightheaded herself. This was so new, so long wished for, the sensation was almost threatening to overwhelm her.

Slowly Lisbon turned her head to face him again, gingerly brushing his cheek with her right hand. Whispering, she asked: "This too fast for you?"

He shook his head, mumbling: "No." Then he kissed her hand that had still been resting on his cheek. "For you?"

"No," she echoed, smiling at him before she kissed him once more, her hips slightly pushing into him, making him moan into her mouth. They had to separate again when she pulled his tank top over his head, before carelessly letting it drop to the ground, her fingers itching to touch his naked skin.

But, finding enough breath to speak, she only tenderly caressed his cheek with the loveable stubble, smiling as she mumbled: "You don't have to sleep on that couch, you know?" And seeing him flashing a sheepish grin, she grabbed his hand, pulling him upstairs with her into her bedroom.