It wasn't long until he found himself back in the rhythm and routine of what you could call 'normal' life. He found a cute little breakfast spot on the way from the motel to FBI HQ that made eggs just the way he liked them. He had helped solved cases, proving not to be rusty at all, and Cho, an efficient, no-bullshit boss. He'd already angered Abbott a handful of times, but felt he was building his trust, or at least a reputation for being consistently right and a reliable closer, with each case they'd been thrown closed within 48 hours.

He'd formed a good relationship with Wylie. They shared a childlike nature, and he was forever amused by Jane's tricks. His IT genius and occasional social awkwardness the complete supplement to Jane's tech-related illiteracy and particular way with people. He liked working with the team, Vega was a breath of fresh air, and reminded her of a younger Lisbon with her fierce determination and work ethic.

But even more significantly, that seemed to bring the most meaning to his day, he was back to being Lisbon's plucky sidekick. There was something calming and purpose-giving to his day knowing that he would get to spend time with her. Their banter and playfulness on-case seemed to have never skipped a beat despite the 2-year absence. Off-case, things were evidently a different, more cloudy story, but avoiding the difficult under-tones of their evolving relationship, whatever that might be, was something they were both quite skilfully apt in doing.

As the office thinned out on Friday afternoon with the brimming hum of anticipation of the weekend, Jane found himself sitting on the snuggly leathers of his couch, staring in a particular direction once again. Lisbon sat at Vega's desk, her own computer having issues. Her white blouse spattered with mud, her curls flicked to one side, and her cross necklace sitting delicately upon her collarbone. Her mind was set on completing the paperwork for the cases they had just closed – mainly thanks to Jane of course. But of course, thanks to Jane, they had yet a mountain of paperwork to complete.

Abbott was happy with the speedy close for such a case, so at least he wasn't in trouble this time. They were called into a homicide at the government chambers downtown, and it took Jane all of ten seconds to figure out it was the receptionist. Her sordid affair with the victim was all but transparent. A simple ruse involving a few carefully placed words, an envelope, a potted fern, and setting off the fire alarm tricked her into revealing herself irrevocably.

Jane never quite understood the primal urge to flee in the overwhelming presence of armed agents. Surely the futility of it was glaringly obvious, even to the most dim-witted of subjects. But alas, out the window the middle-aged receptionist clumsily went. Almost as quickly as Jane had solved the case, Lisbon had taken her down, soaring through the air like a javelin, and spear-tackling the woman into an unsuspecting hydrangea bush within the well-manicured gardens. There was nothing like watching a good Lisbon takedown, the strength of her unassuming stature always a cause for surprise, and the hit of adrenalin always made her that bit cheerier.

Lisbon's fingers glided across her keyboard like she was playing an instrument, with a serious look locked onto her face. Always diligent with paperwork, it was something he quietly admired about her, her dedication to doing things completely and thoroughly. He loved the way she did her hair lately – slightly wavy, nearly always down, sitting on her shoulders gently. It was something he'd noticed that had changed over the years, she'd grown to care more about her appearance, paying more attention to her hair, picking a more fitted wardrobe that showed off her athletic body and figure a little bit more.

A Friday eve, the nothingness of the weekend to follow. Whilst his peers all relished the break from the gruelling commitments of work, the weekend gave Jane nothing to look forward to. There was nothing within the four walls of his motel room to look forward to, or gave him joy, and he was lacking in motivation to explore the new town he was settling into. Doing it alone brought no appeal to him.

Lisbon continued to clack away, her brow furrowed as she reviewed their notes. The premise of not seeing her until Monday was depressing. Jane was beginning to feel like a ghoul, hoping that there would be a murder or some terrible, terrible event over the weekend, just so they'd be called in. He shuddered at the thought that he was morphing into the late irksome Brett Partridge. Rather than rely on the misfortune of the universe, perhaps it would be more pertinent to create his own luck, he thought.

"Hey Lisbon", he called out. She turned slightly to look over at him from her desk. "Wanna go grab dinner? I still need to find a good Italian place around here."

It wasn't a lie. He didn't have any cooking facilities at the motel apart from a microwave and an electric kettle. He was slowly weeding out where the good places were to eat around town.

"With you?" she retorted in a mocking tone as she pulled a face. "Why would I want to put myself through that?"

"I don't know," Jane replied amused. "Maybe to appease your masochistic tendencies?"

"Ha! Well, it certainly would be a punishment, but what was my crime?" she entertained, turning back to her notes.

"Now, would it really be the worst thing in the world? Good food, good company?" he reasoned.

"That's a bit of stretch, good company," she snorted.

"Well good food then at least. Come on, it's not like you have any plans for tonight," he coaxed playfully as her walked over to the desk and sat on the corner.

"What makes you think I have no plans for tonight? As a matter of fact, I do," she said contritely.

"Oh, come on Lisbon, a glass of wine in the bathtub while cranking the Spice Girls is hardly a plan. Come eat with me."

Lisbon's jaw dropped as she rewarded him with a weighted glare. "It would be some smooth jazz thank you, Spice Girls pairs better with a stiff drink and a little dancing," she miffed back. She considered his offer with a scowl and looked him up and down. A meal couldn't hurt, as her growling stomach agreed with her.

"Ok fine, give me 20 to finish up here. I could go some pasta."

"Great!" said Jane smiling, "So it's a date". He darted off and bounded for the elevator.

"It's not a date! It's just dinner," Lisbon yelled after him in annoyance, although she couldn't help but find herself smile at the thought.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

What have I done? she thought as she watched the elevator doors close across the room. She suddenly had a hard time concentrating on what was very simple routine paperwork - especially simple for a Jane case. Does he honestly think this was a date? His behaviour since his return made her think he could very well be completely serious, attempting to mask his intentions behind a thin veil of taunting humour. Was she naïve to think that they could just share a simple meal as old friends and colleagues? She couldn't deny anymore that there was something uniquely Jane that stirred her feelings, as much as she wanted to deny it for simplicity's sake. Distance and denial was always the easier route. She accepted his dinner invitation tonight just with casual intentions, a girl's gotta eat after all. But was it even possible to do this with Jane without any subtext given their recent history?

They had crossed a threshold that friends don't normally cross, the way they behaved in those changerooms. Surely he'd thought about that just about as much as she'd tried to not think about it. So, was he reading too much into dinner? Was she reading too much into dinner? And if she was, why was it such a bad thing? Why was she so conflicted in her mind about it?

She knew she felt for Jane, she felt something. Yes, sure, fine, it was something deeper than friendship perhaps, but maybe it was just from trauma-based bond they had built over the years. "I just have to know," - his words still bugging her in weak moments where her mind was idle. She still hadn't found the right moment combined with the courage to address it. Not that there could ever be a right moment and not that there was anything to address, she scolded herself.

It's just dinner, she firmly told herself, stop overthinking it.

She finally managed to finish her paperwork and started to gather her things. She heard the elevator ding and looked up to see Patrick Jane's sheepish grin as he sauntered over to her, hands behind his back. She looked at him with intrigue and suspicion.

"For you, my dear" he exclaimed once he had reached her, brandishing a single rose from behind his back. It caught her off guard.

"What the hell is this" she spat defensively, although somewhat tickled by the premise.

"What does it look like? A beautiful rose for a beautiful lady" Jane grinned.

"Yes, I can see it's a rose, but why?" Lisbon sneered.

"Just trying to be a bit gentlemanly for our date" Jane humoured.

"It's not a date" Lisbon retorted as she snatched the rose from him, but couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from rising as she held it close to smell its aroma. "I'm serious, you keep calling it that and you can forget it. I'm not going."

"Uh huh, sure. Whatever you say. Are you ready to go?" Through her constant frustrations with him, she couldn't help but be warmed by his genuine and mischievous qualities. She led the way as he guided her to the elevator placing his hand on the small of her back. The most basic of touches from him always made a tingle fly up her spine and she couldn't understand why - this man infuriated her at the best of times. Maybe that's what drew her towards him? Ugh, what was she even thinking? She turned and gave him a coy smile, still clutching her rose as the elevator doors closed. There was always something electric amount being in such a small space with him.

"There's a good spot not too far from here," she suggested. "They do a decent pizza, I get the impression the rest of the menu should be passable as well."

"Excellent. Your car or mine?" he asked as they walked through the parking garage.

"We can just take separate cars, I've gotta nip home first, I need a clean shirt," she replied, "I'll give you the restaurant address, I won't be far behind at all."

"So I'll follow you back to yours and drive you in, no point in taking 2 cars," he pointed out.

She looked at him suspiciously. "Don't think I don't see what you're doing."

"What am I doing?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"Okay fine," she relented. "But you'll wait for me in the car. Don't think you can push your way into my house so you poke around my things to cold read me with."

"If that's your paranoid insistence, then that's what I shall do," he replied with a gracious nod and a suppressed chuckle.

It was easy keeping up with Lisbon as they wove through the streets of suburban Austin. Her gruff aggression didn't translate to her driving style, it more so reflected her conscientious law-abiding nature. A fifteen-minute drive from HQ, they pulled up in front of a set of three split-level townhouses, Lisbon pulling into the drive of the middle one. They looked modern enough, but unassuming, with no front garden to speak of apart from the generous tree that provided her front window and porch with an ounce of privacy. He watched her scurry in and waited patiently in the car. He wasn't going to start trouble, not yet anyway.

She re-emerged minutes later donning a clean blouse and a tan coat folded across her forearm. He hopped out of the driver's seat and threw her the keys as she approached.

"You want me to drive?" she asked incredulously, after skilfully catching the keyring with her left hand.

"Well, yes. One, you know where we're going. Two, you don't like it when I drive, and I'm trying to make things up to you."

"Oh sure, this fixes everything," she answered sarcastically as she toasted him the keys, but couldn't help but reward him with a big grin. He would move mountains for that smile.

"Hey, why aren't you wearing the dress? We're off to a nice dinner after all," he said with a cheeky grin and an excited twinkle in his eye.

With a little head shake, she rolled her eyes that weren't able to mask same excited twinkle, and kicked the car into drive.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They found the cute little Italian restaurant on the East side of the city, 7 or so blocks from FBI HQ. Dinner was a candid affair. The food was great, the conversation flowed, and it didn't take her long to relax into the situation. He didn't push his charismatic agenda hard, nor did either of them angle the conversation towards anything too deep or emotional. She couldn't remember the last time she laughed that hard and her cheeks hurt from grinning so much. He had this ability to make her forget about everything else and just be in the moment. He made her feel ways she had difficulty describing, which made her both nervous and exhilarated.

He thought back to the last time he shared dinner with a woman where the word date had been thrown around. With a little nudge from Hightower, he'd asked Kristina Frye out on a date. More out of curiosity than desire if anything. "She likes you, that one," Hightower had said, peering into the office room where Kristina and Lisbon spoke. "Which one?" his reflex reply, his hopes immediately hoping she would say Lisbon, without taking a beat to consider how nonsensical it would be for the boss to even suggest that.

He remembered how anxious he felt out to dinner with her, his stress levels through the roof, like he was doing something damning and unnatural. He remembered fleeing to the restrooms trying to subdue what could only be described as damn near a panic attack. He wasn't ready. Or maybe it just wasn't the right person. Either way, he felt none of that here with Lisbon, date or not. He was so happy and at peace here. There was no place right now he would rather be.

They ordered dessert, 'Death by Chocolate', a mean ole slice of chocolate cake. Sharing a dessert with two spoons maybe be romantic for some, but it'd been something they'd done time and time before. Her eyes widened as the generous piece of chocolate cake hit the table and she involuntarily ran her tongue over her top lip. Her childish excitement over something as juvenile as cake warmed his own child-like heart. He watched her as her spoon plunged into the moist cake, the corners of her mouth raising in excited anticipation, as she drew the first mouthful towards her lips. She closed her eyes and savoured the gluttony, as she wrapped her soft, luscious lips around the spoon, letting out a gentle moan of approval.

"Damn," she said, mouth half full and chocolate on her teeth,"that's good." She sank her spoon in once more. "Have a bite," she demanded, holding out a spoonful of chocolate. He leaned across the table, meeting her eyes as he wrapped his mouth around the spoon and gently pulled with his teeth. The cake was dark and rich, the marks of any good chocolate temptress.

"Good, right?" she asked, enthusiastically seeking his approval.

They continued to hack away at the chocolate cake with a bit of light banter. Jane couldn't help but stare at her mouth and lips, as she made love to the cake. There was something so alluring about it all. Her excitement, her desire, her indulgence, her satisfaction, and the urge he had to replace the chocolate cake himself, to allow himself the gluttony of kissing those soft, tender lips. He struggled to shake the idea from his mind with each bite she took.

As they left the restaurant, the cold night air hit her face. She could feel her cheeks were slightly flushed from the wine. She was far from drunk, not even in the realm of tipsy. Just warm and content after a couple of glasses. She looked over at Jane as he was wistfully peering up at the night sky, a childlike wonder upon his face like there commonly was as he enjoyed the simple things life had to offer.

"That was a lot of fun," she started as she scuffed her feet into the sidewalk. "I actually really enjoy hanging out with you. You're not so bad sometimes," she said with a smirk.

"Don't seem so surprised. Why would it be such a shocking thing, enjoying your time with me?" Jane replied jovially.

Everything was a joke to him she thought. Or a trick. That's why.

She shrugged her shoulders and felt a suppressed bubble of frustration pop up to the surface unwittingly.

"Honestly Jane, it's exactly the point. I don't know what to expect with you. When it's good, it's really nice, but when it's bad, it's ugly. I always feel like I'm on edge. You can be unpredictable at the best of times. From all the highs you've made me feel, it kind of feels like the lows still outweigh that."

"Yeah, I get that," he said, a little withdrawn. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered trying. Why he bothered hoping. He'd damaged their relationship so badly, he was getting exactly what he deserved. He was foolish to think he could ever win her over after everything he had done and the type of horrible person he was. The reality of it all whipped him fiercely. It just stung, and stung badly.

They stood in silence for a moment. She wanted to push him away a smidge, but maybe she had pushed a bit too hard. Perhaps she was a little too harsh, but then again, he needed to hear the hard truths. At least she was honest. She didn't relish the reaction she was getting from him now. He seemed somewhat genuinely hurt. She didn't like seeing him unhappy. They spent a lot of time together, when he was unhappy, she was less happy. It was just human nature.

"Well, I better get home," she said, breaking the awkward silence, happy to bring the night to a close and instantly regretting that she agreed to taking the one car so she had no means for a nimble escape.

"Uh yeah," he responded, obliging without a fight, which was when she knew she had really touched a nerve. No witty comment, no debate, no stabby banter. She'd done it well this time. Oh well, she thought, maybe he deserved it too. She tried to remind herself of the lows to justify her words and neutralize the guilt she was feeling. The way he abandoned her on the beach at sunset, the way he abandoned her when he faked his breakdown, the way he abandoned her when he left the country. When he lied and buried a man alive, when he lied and ended up getting her suspended, when he lied about Lorelei. The past angers helped her mood match his, as they started making their way down the block to where his car was parked.

They drove back to her house in silence. She felt so mixed up, the past angers could only fuel her for so long. How can one person bring her such happiness and such despair? She enjoyed these happy times with him, she really, truly did. But she knew better than to rely on them, he had broken her heart so many times. Could she even say that – 'broken her heart'? They were never in a relationship, he didn't owe her anything, what was she actually expecting of him? But gosh, they'd been partners for so long, that had to amount for something?

She glanced over at him whilst he drove. That boyish grin and hopefulness from early in the evening had disappeared and he now wore a look of worry with a tinge of sadness.

Maybe she was being too harsh on him. She still had so many things she had repressed, so many things she still held in the deepest darkest places of her being, despite having blown up at him on his first day back on duty. Although they knew each other for so long, the nature of their relationship meant they also came with a lot of baggage. And given their 'don't ask, don't tell' tendencies when it came to the more difficult things to articulate, they had enough baggage to put Fort Worth to shame.

They pulled up at her house. She hesitated as he stopped the car.

"Sorry for the terrible date" he mumbled.

"It wasn't a date!" she exclaimed back, punching him playfully in the shoulder. She couldn't help but smile as she caught his eye.

The smile melted his melancholy slightly. He smiled back. This was how they were. Through everything, anything, all the unpredictability and unsureness, at the end of the day, they had each other. In whatever weird platonic, flirtatious way that might be, it was their special way. With the baggage came the mileage too – they had such a deep and significant history together.

It was that instant that made her realise how much this man really meant to her and the magnitude of what they had actually been through together hit her like a tonne of bricks.

She opened her car door slowly and began to step out.

"Thanks for dinner Jane. I really did enjoy myself," she said quietly.

"I did too, Lisbon," he said back a little reserved. He seemed like he had more to say, but something held him back, which wasn't like him. "Goodnight" he eventually followed up.

"Goodnight" she replied and turned to close the car door behind her.

She paused. She couldn't leave things like this. As much as he probably deserved a weekend of brooding, she was better than that.

"Jane… did you want to come in for a nightcap? Maybe talk a bit more?" The words rushed out of her mouth before she could stop them, surprising herself. What was she doing? Perhaps it was the wine talking, but she knew she wasn't drunk. The curse of her empathetic nature had allowed her filter of good judgement slip for a moment.

Her proposition came as an honest surprise to him. He stared at her back with a look of inquisitive amusement on his face. She went beet red almost immediately.

Ugh, what had she done!?

"Never mind!" she quickly backtracked, impatient that he took more than four seconds to respond.

"No, wait, wait. Yes of course I do. Please. I'm sorry you took me by surprise. I would love that" he quickly recovered, "really, I would."

Her eyes narrowed at him. She still didn't understand it. Calm and collected were ingrained into her character, except for when it came to Patrick Jane. He infuriated her so easily, but she seemed to desperately long for his company too.

"No funny stuff," she elaborated strictly holding up a finger. "Strictly not a date. Don't go getting any ideas. No physical contact," she ranted, as stern as a schoolteacher. "I just thought you might like a bit more company, given the time you've had away and alone. I can't imagine it's much fun in that motel room."

"No, you're right, it's only fun when I order hookers and Chinese food" he gambled back, receiving the harshest of death glares in return. "Kidding, kidding of course" he cackled back after eliciting the response he had hoped for. He quickly hopped out of the car, as Lisbon turned and stormed off towards her front door, instantly regretting her decision.

"I'm sorry, I was kidding of course. No hookers, never hookers. But why would that upset you, this isn't a date right?" he rambled as he caught up with her.

He had a point. They weren't in a relationship, they'd never ever been in a relationship in the past. But why did she feel so defensive and jealous over the mere thought of him with a hooker? She'd always had jealous, protective tendencies when it came to Jane, and the thought of him with another woman, even back in the day, made her see red. The things he did to her emotions perplexed her.

She inserted the key into her front door and locked eyes with him for a moment in consideration, before ignoring his question and twisting the door open. What am I doing? she thought yet again to herself. This would certainly shape up to be a very interesting evening after all, whether that would be a good thing or a bad thing remained to be seen.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

For someone who had spent a significant portion of his life claiming to be psychic, he certainly didn't anticipate that his evening would end up here. Even ten minutes ago, he wouldn't have predicted this. He found himself nervous standing in Lisbon's lounge room.

It had a surprisingly homely feel about it, not the straight-up business hardcore vibe she gave off at work. It was softer than how he'd remembered her apartment to be in Sacramento. The walls were adorned with photos of her family, her brothers, nieces and nephews, as well as simple, yet tasteful artwork (perhaps from the previous tenant once more). Shelving lined with books about leadership and haphazard stacks of work paperwork, punctuated with baseball memorabilia and his seashells from Venezuela. It tickled his heart to see the seashells take such a prominent spot in her home.

The fire she just started flickered and enhanced the warm homely feel of the room. He was very happy to be there, it was the most at home he had felt in a long time, despite it being his first time in this room and it being not his home at all. 'Odd' he thought to himself as Lisbon re-emerged from the kitchen with two glasses in her hand. Scotch on the rocks, the tomboy's drink of choice he thought to himself.

"Thanks" he murmured, as they both took a seat on the couch.

"Cute place you have here, not at all what I expected," he said, making an attempt at small talk.

"Not what you expected? What did you expect?" she replied

"I don't know. Gun stuff. You like guns. Alter for sacrifice. You know, that kind of thing" he said.

She snorted into her drink and shook her head.

"Maybe a little Jane voodoo doll you stick pins in"

"Oh, I don't keep those on display. They're upstairs"

"Fair enough," he mused. "That's a cool little toy, never thought you to be the vintage car kind of type," he said, indicating a small vintage car replica on her mantle.

"It was a graduation gift from my grandfather," she said fondly[5] "great man"

"Were you close?" he asked

"Yeah, especially after mom died. We were all that reminded him of her," she explained. "I love vintage cars, they remind me of him. That, and the smell of fresh mulberries." She smiled as she let the memory wash over her. "They had the biggest of mulberry trees in their front yard, we'd love picking the fruit and eating it straight off the tree as kids. My mom, not so much, we'd all end up covered in that shade of purple that was impossible to get out." She chuckled softly.

"Charlotte loved mulberries too," he replied. The mention of his daughter's name got her full attention and sprung her alert like a bucket of ice water. He never spoke of his daughter. Her eyes locked onto him so she could absorb every motion, every word.

"Before we moved to Malibu, our neighbors had a tree. I used to hoist her onto my shoulders and she'd pick the fruit with her clumsy little fingers. Your mom had the right idea about the purple, Angela was never overly pleased with us afterward either, she would get it absolutely everywhere. All over her hands and face, all down her clothes, through her curls, through my curls," he trailed off with a weak smile.

He sensed her change in demeanor. It was always hard to talk about Charlottle and Angela, but now it was seeming less impossible. If he was ever going to get her to drop her guard, he would need to lower his first. Maybe being open about things wasn't the worst thing in the world. Her eyes seemed to grow a mist as he talked about his past.

They'd always been able to dance around the tougher issues. They knew each other well, and she had helped him grow over the years, but even though they were close, they rarely talked. Like properly talked. A lot of what he knew about her was from hot and cold reads, or when their work life crossed paths with her personal life or her path. Although he knew her well, he didn't know much about her. They also had the tendency to beat around the harder issues, ones that challenged the boundaries of their guarded emotions. Almost acknowledging something was there with a mutual understanding to never speak of it.

At the risk of things getting too heavy, the topic abruptly changed to something a little lighter. They joked, they poked, until inevitably the conversation turned back towards the final stages of the RJ hunt and the unresolved issues it presented.

"Jane," she began hesitantly. "Why did you keep pushing me away?"

"To protect you," he answered simply.

"How? What kind of flawed logic does that stem from?" she clapped back, not satisfied with his response.

"People who get close to me, bad things happen."

"But we were already close."

"And bad things happened."

"So that doesn't justify shutting me out."

"I don't think you understand"

"What am I missing, Jane? He asked for you to kill ME as a display of loyalty. He asked for MY head to be delivered to him. He knew I was the closest thing to you. Pushing me away did nothing to change that."

Jane shrugged in thought and took a hefty gulp of his drink.

"And to plausible deniability, you'd always harp on about. I ended up being arrested by the FBI twice. There was never any point in keeping me in the dark. Not only did I not know the full story, but I also still ended up bearing the full brunt of the consequences," she continued.

"And I soon as I let you in, you did everything I told you not to do," he countered. "You told Van Pelt, who told the rest of the team. You put them under surveillance and I ended up almost losing you to him."

"And how many times did I end up nearly losing you in the process? Did I have to come chasing after you after you'd abandoned me or kept me in the dark?" she retorted.

Jane paused and inhaled pointedly. He didn't think she could ever understand his perspective, but at the same time, he was beginning to gain a deeper understanding of where she was coming from.

"You're never going to be able to see past all I've put you through, are you?" he said morosely.

"Just listen to yourself – 'all you've put me through'. Yeah, it's a lot, Jane. And you didn't put me through it all. I chose to be there, despite you shutting me out when it suited you. I always showed up. I always had your back."

"And I thank you for that." He paused for a moment. "I'm sorry, really. I'll admit, I was an ass, a coward," he started. "True or not, the more I opened up, the more I felt like I was putting you in danger. And if anything were to happen to you, I don't think I'd have the strength to survive another loss like that."

She nodded quietly, respecting the tremble in his voice that accompanied his last few words. The scars of brutal and unfair loss were something they both shared in, albeit the effects on their lives and personalities were significantly different.

"Pushing you away wasn't all about protecting you, it was to protect myself." He paused a beat. "You can't be hurt when you have nothing to lose. And for a while there, I had nothing to lose. And then you came along and that all changed. The closer you became, the more I began to care about you and the more I had to lose. And I struggled with the guilt at the mere thought of it."

From the coffee table, Lisbon's phone rattled and chimed, Cho's name flashing upon the screen.

He cursed himself for wishing for a weekend case. There was such irony in his granted wish interrupting his craved time and companionship, and the much-needed cathartic conversations that were well overdue.

"Hey Cho," she answered.

"We're up," the team leader replied, going on to detail the particulars of the latest homicide they were tasked with unraveling.

"Okay," Lisbon replied, "I'm three drinks deep, but I'm fine. We'll be there."

"We'll be there?" Cho repeated questioningly.

"I'll be there. Sorry. Three drinks deep," she attempted to recover.

"Okay. See you shortly," Cho ended. Lisbon hung up and flicked her phone back on the table.

"We have a case," she said, getting up to kill the fire.

"So I surmised. Shall I give you a lift in?"

"No way in hell we're showing up at the crime scene together," she objected pointedly. "People will talk"

"So let them talk. Like you said, you're three drinks in, wouldn't be the worst idea to let me drive," he reasoned.

"Yeah, spaced out over 3 hours, with a meal, I'm fine."

"Okay, sure, fine. Where are we off to?"

"I'm sure your phone will start crooning soon," she said pointedly.

He followed her into the kitchen with his empty glass. On the center of the round table in a delicate little vase sat the single red rose he had presented her with earlier. His features softened at the sight. He half expected it to be tossed out or tossed aside without a thought. But to think she took the time to take such care of it in the mere minutes she took to get changed. It meant something to her. And that meant a lot to him.

Sure enough, his own phone dinged within his vest pocket, a message from Cho with the crime scene location and details.

"How come you get a call, and I just get a text?" he asked with mild annoyance.

"Because I'm an agent, you're just a consultant."

"Just a consultant? JUST a consultant. I'm hurt, Lisbon."

"You know what I mean."

"A decade of working with someone, you think you'd be worth a phone call, is all I'm saying."

"Cho is a man of few words," she continued as she gathered her things to leave.

"And who else is going to solve cases for you?" he asked cockily.

"We've solved cases without you before and managed just fine."

"Yeah, just not as many, and not as quickly," he replied following her to the front door.

She stopped dramatically and turned to face him. "Watch your head"

"Why, what is it?"

"If it gets any bigger, it won't fit into the car."

"Comedian now, are we?"

She smiled.

"Jane," she exhaled.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you"

"For what?"

"For being real with me. I know we're not great with talking about things. It's hard," she answered with soft emphasis. "We have a lot of history to work through. I'm new in Austin, I'm new to the FBI. I don't want to jump into anything blindly feet first. The stakes are too high."

She reached one arm over his shoulder and the other around his waist and hugged him tightly. After a surprised beat, he reciprocated warmly.

The simple gesture moved him more than she would realize. Many times in their past he had hugged her. When he first was hired with CBI, when she allowed him to return to the team after he quit melodramatically when Bosco took over the RJ case. Right before he let his feelings slip and fake shot her, and again when he abandoned her on that beach at sunset that fateful eve. And of course, since his return. But never once had the self-proclaimed 'not-a-hugger' Lisbon initiated such physical contact. It was the first time she had hugged him, rather than just complied or reciprocated. There was so much more depth to this embrace, he forced himself to swallow the growing lump in his throat.

After a moment, they pulled apart awkwardly, not knowing exactly where to look.

"You know what, you drive," she decided. "I'm tired, it's late. We can say you picked me up on the way."

"Or we could just say nothing because no one cares or will notice it as strange."

"Eh, maybe," she shrugged

"Lisbon?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad we did this," he said with a nod, flashing his devastating grin.

"Me too," she agreed, shyly mirroring his smile.