The team stood in a half circle around Hightower's desk, staring at the note in mute horror as Lisbon explained how Red John had affixed it to Kristina's chest.

"So what does it mean?" Cho said finally.

"It's a note to me," Jane said.

Rigsby frowned. "I don't get it. How do you know it's for you?"

"I asked Kristina on a date not long ago," Jane explained. "But then I had second thoughts and called it off. Red John must have found out about it somehow."

Lisbon felt sick. "You think he's comparing her to your wife?"

Jane looked at her sharply. "Must be," he said neutrally.

"You asked Kristina on a date?" Van Pelt asked curiously.

"Yes. Red John must think I called it off because he thinks I compared her to my wife and she came up wanting."

"Why did you call it off?" Van Pelt asked, fascinated.

"Because she won't admit she's a fraud." Jane lied without blinking. "I enjoy our conversations, but she never drops the act."

"Takes one to know one," Hightower said mildly. "Why would Red John care if you go on a date in the first place?"

"Maybe he's jealous," Rigsby suggested. "He likes having Jane's attention all for himself."

The rest of the team looked at him, surprised.

"What?" Rigsby said defensively. "It makes sense. Look what he did to Bosco and his team, just because he wanted Jane to have his case back."

Cho looked at Jane. "Congratulations on having the object of your disturbing obsession be disturbingly obsessed with you back."

"Can we focus, here?" Hightower said. "What does this mean for us in the immediate future? Jane, do you think this is a threat? Do you believe your life is in danger?"

Jane hesitated. "No," he said reluctantly. "I think this is to put me on notice that he's watching me closely."

"But why?" Van Pelt asked. "I mean—what's the point?"

"Yeah, no offense, Jane, but watching you can't be that interesting," Rigsby said. "All you ever do is lay on your couch and obsess about Red John and annoy Lisbon."

"Don't forget getting into trouble that Lisbon has to bail him out of," Cho said. "That can be entertaining sometimes."

"Thank you both for your flattering assessments," Jane said dryly. "I meant, it seems likely that he has the office under some kind of surveillance."

Both Hightower and Lisbon straightened in alarm. "Bug sweeps," Hightower ordered. "Every damn day."

"Yes, ma'am," Lisbon said.

"He's hacked into our systems before," Van Pelt said. "I can set up some new alerts to trigger if files are accessed unexpectedly. The firewalls might not keep him out, but at least we'll know if he gets in."

"It might not be electronic surveillance," Jane said. "Could be a mole."

Hightower frowned. "You suspect our people?"

"It's happened before," Jane reminded her.

"That will be more difficult to sort out," Hightower said slowly.

"Agreed," Jane said. "We don't want to risk alerting any spies that we suspect them. Don't discuss anything sensitive where anyone outside the people in this room might hear it."

"Don't leave any papers lying out in the open, and lock you computers anytime you leave your desks," Lisbon added. "Even if you're only going to be gone five minutes."

The team nodded their agreement, and the meeting ended shortly thereafter.

Lisbon had to wait until the end of the day after everyone else had left to ask Jane what he really thought.

"Congratulations," she said, leaning on Van Pelt's desk and glancing around to confirm there was no one nearby. "You've officially infected everyone with your paranoia."

"Good," Jane said. He was lying on his couch with his eyes closed. "That's kind of the point."

Lisbon lowered her voice. "Is it safe to talk now?"

"As safe as we can be." Jane opened his eyes and sat up. "Cho did a bug sweep right before he left."

Lisbon looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

Jane looked right back. "Well, what?"

"What's your plan?"

"I haven't got one," Jane said. "Not yet, anyway."

"Come on, you've got to have some ideas."

"I'm still working through everything in my head. He took Kristina and sent her back to frighten me with a threat to your life," Jane said, worrying his lower lip.

"A threat to my life?" Lisbon said blankly. "What are you talking about?"

"He must suspect we're involved," Jane said distractedly. "He's trying to spook me into showing my hand. He thinks that will give him leverage over me."

Lisbon shook her head. "Jane, you're not making sense."

"He won't accept second best," Jane said impatiently. "That's obviously a reference to you."

"But—" Lisbon stared. "You said the note was a reference to your wife."

"No, you said that," Jane said. "It made sense to let the rest of the team believe that, so I didn't correct you."

"You think the note he left with Kristina is a threat to my life," Lisbon repeated, trying to wrap her head around the idea. "I don't know Jane. It seems like a stretch."

Jane closed his eyes. "Can you please trust me on this, Lisbon? I know for a fact that the note is about you. Please let's not waste time arguing on that point. I need to figure out what to do."

"We need to figure out what to do," Lisbon corrected him. "Partners, remember?"

Jane blew out an impatient breath. "Fine. We need to figure out what to do. Happy?"

"Yeah, I'm jumping for joy," Lisbon muttered. Second best. She desperately wanted to ask Jane to explain further, but she was afraid to hear the answer. She was silent for a moment, thinking through Jane's theory. "He killed Bosco because he was getting close," she said finally. "Maybe he's worried we are, too."

"But we aren't close," Jane said. "We haven't had any fresh leads in ages. And why save me? He saves me, then turns around and threatens you. Why? What's the point?"

"I think Rigsby had the right of it. He likes having your attention. Besides," she said, maybe this is the point, gesturing between them. "Maybe this is the point."

Jane frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Red John is a terrorist. He enjoys causing fear. It's a nice by product for him if you're too distracted to concentrate on his case properly."

"Maybe," Jane said, subdued.

Lisbon looked at him. "What did he say to you when he saved you from those kids?"

"I told you, he didn't say anything."

"I know what you told me. But I looked at the photos from the scene again this week. You knocked yourself over in that chair while you were tied up. But in the photos, the chair is upright when they cut you free of the plastic. He picked you up."

"That doesn't necessarily mean—"

Lisbon cut him off. "He made it his business to be there when you were in danger so he could be the one to save you. He was two feet away from you. There's no way he didn't say something to you. What was it?"

When Jane still hesitated, she fixed him with a look. "Let's leave aside the fact the fact that you excluded critical testimony from your statement and that I could charge you with obstruction of justice. Let's also leave aside the fact that you should have told me this because I'm the lead agent on this case, not to mention your partner. You're the one who's so convinced the note with Kristina is a threat to my life. If that's true, don't you think I have a right to know?"

Jane grimaced. He said reluctantly, "He said he couldn't abide cheap imitations of his work. And he quoted a poem. 'The Tyger,' by William Blake." He recited it for her.

Lisbon frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"

"I'm still trying to work that out."

Lisbon was silent for a moment. "Do you think we should tell the team?" she said at last.

"About the poem?"

"No, I mean about your theory. About—" she gestured vaguely between the two of them.

"Our interludes?" Jane suggested.

"If you think Red John is coming after me, it could be helpful for them to understand what's really happening."

He looked at her intently. "Do you want to tell them?"

Lisbon made a face. She could hardly imagine a more awkward conversation. "Not especially. But if it's suddenly relevant to the case…" She sighed. "I'm not like you, Jane. Parsing out information only when you personally judge it necessary. I'm used to operating in a team. In my experience, teams work better when everyone has all the facts up front and can make decisions based on the full context. Otherwise, they're flying blind."

"I don't think it's a good idea," Jane said. "The more they know, the more danger they'll be in."

"All right. We'll table it for now," Lisbon said, not entirely convinced, but willing to trust Jane's instincts for the time being. "What about Kristina?"

"What about her?"

"She said she didn't remember packing a bag or leaving the house."

"Red John hypnotized her to forget," Jane reminded her.

"Right, but what if it's the same as what Carmen did to me? You figured out it was him by looking at the memories before the missing time."

Jane shook his head. "I told you, it's too dangerous to try to undo whatever hypnosis he laid on her."

"I'm saying, what if we don't have to hypnotize her to access the most important memories?" Lisbon said. "If she was already hypnotized when she left the house, he must have done some kind of advance work to set that whole thing up, right? What if he met her sometime in the days leading up to the time he took her?"

"That," Jane said, "is a very interesting notion. I think it's likely he would have figured out a way to erase those parts of her memory, too. But it's worth looking into."

"Even if she doesn't remember meeting him, if we can at least narrow down the timeline so we know when he approached her, that would give us a starting place to look for more leads," Lisbon said, lost in thought.

Jane was staring at her.

"What?" she said, suddenly self-conscious.

He looked away. "Sorry," he said to the couch cushion nearest him. He risked a glance back at her. "It's just—you know. The cinnamon thing."

"What, now?" Lisbon said, startled. They were hardly discussing a sexy topic, after all.

"It happens with inconvenient frequency," Jane informed her. "Especially when you're being particularly noble or clever."

"Uh. Okay." Lisbon didn't understand why he was telling her this. They didn't talk about stuff like this. They had sex, and they solved murders. Although now that he'd raised the subject, she was suddenly hyperaware of the way the dim office lights glinted in his golden hair.

Sunshine brain, she thought dazedly. That's what I have. The golden curls, the dazzling smile—it was like looking into the sun.

Jane cleared his throat. "Seriously, though. I know I fell off the wagon last week, but we really can't have any more…aberrations. I know you thought I was being paranoid before, but under the circumstances—" He shook his head. "It's far too dangerous."

"I understand," Lisbon told him. "We already agreed on that, remember?"

"Yeah," Jane said, but he looked unhappy.

"You still need to work on your metaphors," Lisbon said, hoping to tease him out of his funk. "Falling off the wagon? I'm not crazy about being compared to a substance use addiction."

Jane met her gaze. "Ah, but you, my dear, are decidedly addictive."

Under the heat of his gaze, Lisbon was hit with a wave of desire to have his hands on her, to have his mouth on hers. Well, that backfired, she thought to herself. She straightened. "I'm going to go home," she said, her cheeks hot. "Have a good night, Jane. Don't stay too late obsessing, okay? Get some rest."

He smiled faintly. "I'll do my best."

Lisbon left, knowing there was zero chance he would heed her advice.

xxx

Lisbon didn't sleep well that night. She tossed and turned, worried about Jane.

He was going to become even more obsessive than before, she just knew it.

He was probably busy torturing himself with guilt over what had happened to Kristina, Lisbon thought, staring at the ceiling. She felt guilty, too, though rationally she knew none of this was her fault. But still, she felt horrible that Kristina had gotten caught in the middle of the whole thing. She knew Jane would blame himself even more.

He'd barely spoken about his own encounter with Red John, aside from what she'd pried out of him with great difficulty. That had to be messing with his head pretty badly, too. His nemesis had saved his life. And what the hell was the deal with that poem? Lisbon could make no sense of it. She resolved to check out some William Blake poetry from the library. Maybe she could ask Cho if he knew anything about the poem.

I won't accept second best. Second best. Jane thought this was about her. Red John thought Kristina Frye was second best. Which made her, Lisbon…first best? At what? Having a secret affair with Jane? Why would Red John care who Jane slept with? Unless, she acknowledged reluctantly, it was to gain emotional leverage over Jane, as he'd suggested.

Upon consideration, this was the only conclusion that made sense. But to form this conclusion meant acknowledging Jane felt an emotional connection to her, and Lisbon was still trying to avoid thinking about that at all costs.

She was overreacting, she told herself. Of course Jane felt an emotional connection towards her. They were friends. Partners. She felt an emotional connection towards him. As her friend. As her partner. Jane was freaking out about Kristina, who he had a little crush on. Of course he would completely freak out about Red John's attention landing on someone he'd actually slept with. That was all part of his particular brand of backhanded chivalry and protectiveness—of course he felt responsible for her, however misplaced, since she was the one in law enforcement and by rights had charge of keeping him safe.

She felt a rush of protectiveness towards him. Perversely, she wanted to call him, to tell him to come over. To lose themselves in each other's bodies and forget about everything else. And then for him to let her hold him. She wanted to put her arms around him and kiss his golden curls and tell him everything was going to be all right. That he could close his eyes and stop worrying for once, because she had his back, she would protect him, she wouldn't let anything happen to him, because as annoying and infuriating as he was, he was hers. She wasn't going to let anyone mess with him. Red John wasn't going to hurt him again on her watch, and neither was anyone else. If they tried anything, if they threatened that precious, fragile heart of his, they'd be sorry they'd ever crossed her.

Lisbon opened her eyes, appalled.

Jane wasn't hers, she thought uneasily, trying to walk back the thought in her own mind. No, it was natural she would feel protective of him, she told herself. He worked for her. She was responsible for him. And, okay, fine—she wasn't a robot. She had some feelings for him. Some. Not…not too many.

She turned over and tried to banish the thought from her mind.