A/N: Thank you to all that leave comments, I value every one and they give me such inspiration to write knowing that people are actually reading and appreciating the story. It really blows me away and I am humbled. Thank you.

Big chapter. Swapped one tropey cliché for another as the team jet sets off to Alaska to assist with a double homicide. Some dialogue taken from a particular episode, you'll all know which one. Case heavy, Jisbon heavy, I hope you enjoy!

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They arrived back in Austin only to receive word that their next case would take them the furthest they'd ever traveled for work. Even further than some had previously fled to the non-extradition graces of Venezuela. A double homicide involving the son of a senator in a lonely mountain town in Alaska, the ill-equipped state seeking assistance from the mainland in a high-pressure case. Poking through her winter wear, she threw a warmer wardrobe into her go-bag, the median temperature in the small town of Cantwell hovering around 40 degrees this time of year.

An 8-hour red-eye flight was both a blessing and a curse, the direct flight getting there as efficiently as possible without losing much daylight, but a still seedy Lisbon was longing for the comforts of her own bed, cursing her age for the lack of resilience to the toxins she had consumed the night before.

"You've seen better days," Jane poked, observing her paler than normal complexion and soulless eyes, as they climbed into their adjacent seats of their half past midnight flight. She responded with a thin-lipped grimace and hoped that Jane would be kind enough to sleep through the flight, complication-free.

"Come on," Jane offered graciously with a kick of his head once they were up in the air. He pushed up the armrest between them and angled himself towards her, leaning back on the curved windowed wall of the plane. He placed an open palm between her shoulders. "You need the rest," he said encouraging her towards him.

Snippets of sassy clapback rebuttals pinged through her brain in disorganised pulses, but she was too exhausted to argue, her body craving any comfort that would better facilitate sleep. She accepted his invitation, resting her head against his pectoral and her hand in a gentle fist upon him by her face. His chest a comfortable pillow, the angle far more inducive to sleep than the awkward uprightness that coach seating necessitates, his scent always warm and comforting.

"Thanks Jane," she mumbled gratefully.

"No problems," he whispered back, allowing his hand to drop naturally onto her hip, his arm cradling her shoulders.

It didn't take long for her to conk out in his comfortable embrace. Jane rested his cheek upon her hair and relished her closeness with a deep breath.

The night out with Rigsby and Cho had been surprisingly more therapeutic than he expected or would ever care to admit. He had missed the comradery from the CBI days, without realising it, he had evolved from the destitute lone-wolf he had always envisioned himself to be with the connections that innately grew from spending every day with people. He'd opened up more than he really ever had (apart from with Lisbon of course), even though a lot of it wasn't exactly willingly, but more so complying to correct assumptions elicited by the pair of detectives.

And it was actually nice. He was so used to being alone, he had underestimated how liberating and strengthening it could be to have people in your corner – people who cared about your whims, hopes, and happiness. People to smile, vent, and joke with, all for the sake of catharsis and camaraderie. It gave him a bit more courage and affirmation, that the thought of him and Lisbon together wasn't completely ludicrous, and that those with some kind of affiliation in their lives might actually even support the idea. Being a lone-wolf was overrated.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After landing in Anchorage, it was a further 3-hour drive to Cantwell, two hire cars facilitating their winding travels through the mountainous, snow-covered landscape. Cho briefed the team as Jane and Lisbon drove either vehicle, Lisbon feeling refreshed and herself again after a surprisingly exceptionally solid sleep on the plane.

Their first victim Alaskan Senator Johnson's 38-year-old son, Stephen, found with multiple stab wounds in a barn on public land on the outskirts of the town. The second victim, Cassie Blanker, a 21-year-old student of Johnson's, found next to him with a significant headwound, and the knife that killed Johnson plunged into her abdomen. Their bodies were found by a couple of local juveniles within 36 hours of their demise.

"Murder weapon?" Lisbon asked.

"The knife found in Cassie matched the stab wounds in Johnson. Wiped clean for prints," Cho continued as he flicked through the information. "But the stab wound isn't what killed Cassie. ME puts cause of death as blunt force trauma to the head. Locals haven't noted anything, but the crime scene has been kept intact apart from the coroner taking the bodies until we get there."

"What else do we know about the victims?" Lisbon followed up.

"Johnson, recently divorced, ex-wife now lives in North Dakota. We have locals from ND confirming her alibi. He works as a professional artist, taught an art class evenings, in which the second victim, Cassie, was a student. Cassie, works part-time with her mother at the local gardening supply store. According to locals, is currently dating a Francis Lestenkof, who works at the family tavern in the high mountains. No one has seen him since before the bodies were discovered," Cho detailed.

"That screams guilty right there," Wylie puffed.

"Suspicious, yes. Guilty, no," Jane entertained.

"It sounds like Cassie was cheating on Lestenkof with Johnson. You know the story, the artistic type, the brooding older mentor, the young ingenue" Vega supplemented alluringly. "Lestenkof finds out, follows them to their hook-up spot, and there you have the blood-soaked jealousy. A tale as old as time itself."

"Exactly," Wylie concurred.

"So who's brooding older mentor in your own young ingenue story, Vega?" Jane asked with a smirk. "Is it Cho?"

No one acknowledged his remark and Lisbon continued to focus on the case. "The way they were killed doesn't make sense though. Stabbing is personal, a crime of passion. The Cassie was bonked across the head? That's anger..."

"—or desperation," Jane added

".. If it were the boyfriend, then the head injury doesn't make sense. And then why stick the knife in her afterward? It's very odd," Lisbon continued.

"Either way, we're going to want to find and talk to Lestenkof as a priority," Cho emphasised, as they pulled in front of the crime scene, the symbolic yellow tape bidding them welcome.

"Sheriff Cardiff, thanks for meeting us here," Cho said with an extended hand, shaking the tall and stocky, slightly overweight gentleman's hand firmly.

"Thanks for making the trek out here, hope we can get this one squared away quickly," the Sheriff replied, his prominent greying mustache twitching as he spoke. "Photos of how the victims were found," he said, his stern, harsh glare behind his glasses surveying the group as he passed a stack of A4 photos to Cho. He flicked through them quickly, before passing them to Lisbon, with a curious Jane peering over her shoulder.

"We think this is what was used to bludgeon Cassie," Cardiff continued, pointing at a fire extinguisher laying sideways in a corner. "We haven't touched anything though. Didn't want to compromise the scene."

"Thanks," said Cho, crouching by the extinguisher, "there's definitely blood on here," he concurred.

Jane impatiently snatched the photos from Lisbon's grasp and started to pace the scene.

"I was looking at those," she objected, but didn't fight back.

"Cassie was moved," Jane declared. "You can see from the patterns in the dirt, she was dragged," he said pointing to the floor, as he flipped a photo in his hand upside down. "She was killed here," he said pointing to a spot near the exit, "or at least that's where she was whacked with the fire extinguisher. She was trying to leave and the killer got her from behind."

"You get that from a dirt pattern? Could've been from the ME team," Cardiff questioned.

"Yeah and her body is positioned oddly too," Jane said, brandishing a photo.

"So, Johnson was planned, but Cassie, no. She caught the killer by surprise, walked in, and perhaps caught them in the act. The killer didn't plan on killing her, but then felt compelled to, and in a panic, tried to stage the scene," Jane hypothesised, whilst examining the photos in his hands even closer."

"That's one theory," Cardiff acknowledged.

"I'd advise finding the boyfriend first," Jane drawled.

"We've got our people looking for Francis Lestenkof, even in our bumbling ways, we figured he was the prime suspect. No luck yet, but it's a small town, he'll turn up soon."

"No, no, not Cassie's boyfriend. Johnson's boyfriend."

"Boyfriend? What do you mean by that?"

"Johnson, gay. I'm positive. Gay."

"Like hell he is," Cardiff spat disgustedly in response.

"Not open about it, it seems. But 100%, he has a secret lover. Of the male variety," Jane said, examining the photos further.

"That's complete bullsh*t and how dare you even suggest such a thing," Cardiff argued, his face turning red behind his outlandish mustache.

"Mmm, yeah. It's fair to say you're still a bit backward in this town, so he chose to hide it."

"That is the Senator's son you're talking about. And dead no less!" the Sheriff growing increasingly irate, spitting as he shouted. "And you're trying to make him out to be a sissy freak-show faggot?!"

"There is no need for such derogatory, vulgar language," Lisbon roared back without skipping a beat, "you watch your mouth," she said with a threatening finger to the Sheriff's chest.

"I apologise for our consultant's frankness," Cho volunteered more calmly. "But perhaps I can encourage a little more professionalism and decorum to facilitate inter-agency cohesiveness."

"Very diplomatic, well done Cho, well done," Jane said with a hint of taunting in his voice, shooting a glare at the Sheriff as he continued to pace the crime scene. "What he really means is, stop being an asshole."

"Jane," Cho fired back firmly. "Apologies," Cho tried again, trying to keep the peace.

"Oh don't waste your breath apologising to him," Jane said flippantly.

"JANE!" this time Lisbon barking back in unison with Cho. Although Jane more than had a point, and she realised she was the one that caused the escalation, some kind of working salvageable working relation with the locals was vital to the case. She strongly empathised with Cho's peace-keeping attempts. And furthermore, the Sheriff looked an inch away from his head flying off and steam geizering from his neck cavity.

"Uh, so you have a spare area back at the station where we can set up?" Cho asked in a desperate attempt to change the topic and defuse the situation.

"Yes," Cardiff replied bluntly. "Assuming you can keep your people in line, Agent Cho."

"Won't be a problem, assuming you can keep yours in line too, Sheriff Cardiff."

"Okay," Cho said turning back to his team. "Wylie, we'll take you back to the station, get you set-up. See what you can find out from Johnson's phone calls and bank records, anything that might give you a clearer picture. Vega, you'll come with me, we'll interview Cassie's mother and start with the other people in the art class. Lisbon, take Jane with you, see what you can find out from Johnson's house first, then head up to the mountain to Olga's Tavern. Lestenkof works there, and his mother is Olga herself. See what you can find out."

"Oh and Jane," Cho continued, "steer clear of Cardiff for a while, would you?"

"If you say please," Jane cheeked in reply.

"I'm not going to say please," Cho said flatly in reply. "Leave him alone."

"Come on Jane," Lisbon murmured, "you poke at him anymore, his head will explode," she said jokingly as she nodded in the beet-red Sheriff's direction.

"You guys are no fun," Jane complained, flashing one last provoking smile laden with charm at the Sheriff with a cheeky wave, before setting off with Lisbon.

"All fired up back there," Jane mused at Lisbon as they went back to the cars. "So tough! Gave me goosebumps." He feigned a shudder.

"I just can't stand ignorant bigots," Lisbon said in disgust. "They make me sick."

"I can't say they're pleasant individuals, no," Jane agreed. "Didn't peg a devout Catholic girl like you to be so passionate on the topic."

"Devout is a bit of a stretch. But when someone stands up and says who they are, the world becomes a better, more interesting place. And these homophobic, racist, sexist miscreants… Nothing but bullies."

He thought back to the Archie Bloom, or should he say Fifi Nix, case from the Sacramento days. A young person, bullied by those around him he was supposed to be able to lean on and trust, to a point where they wanted to take their own life. All until they met the most daring group of divas that gave them a place to be appreciated for who they truly were and their true selves appreciated. It was one of the rare occasions that Lisbon let crimes slide unpunished, moved by their plight. And here he could see that truly empathetic side of Lisbon shining through once again, integrated with her fierce side, the one that raged against the injustices of the world. It made him ever-so proud and adore her even more.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Poking around Johnson's residence provided them with no extraordinary insights, only reaffirming Jane's conjecture that he was indeed gay with a significant other, or at least a regular lover, in his life that he so conscientiously kept hidden away from the world.

"It could have something to do with his father?" Lisbon surmised. "A man in such a prominent position, given the general stance and attitude on the topic around her, he could have viewed as damaging to his political chances?"

"Very much a possibility," Jane acquiesced.

"Or his sexuality could have nothing to do with his murder," Lisbon pointed out. "You can't even be sure he was gay."

"Sexuality, perhaps not. But the secrecy surrounding his relationship, definitely related somehow."

Outside the town, they stopped by the general store at the base of the mountain to refuel before commencing their ascent. Jane headed into the store as Lisbon refuelled, emerging shortly with a novelty bright-orange cartoon beanie, complete with earmuffs wrapped tightly around his head.

"I hope you didn't charge that the bureau's card," she pointed out.

"They can afford it," he dismissed. "Besides, it's a work-related expense. My ears are cold, and how am I supposed to work efficiently when that's the case?"

"You look like a neon warning sign," she said as she screwed up her nose at his purchase.

"It'll make me easier to find if I go wandering out in the snowy forest," he mused back.

"Don't you dare," she cautioned sternly.

The drive up the mountain was precarious at best. The road was narrow and winding, with monumental sheer-drops to one side in its narrowest parts. As much as Jane liked to drive, he was glad the white-knuckled control-freak that was Lisbon was responsible for this journey.

The road eventually plateaued out close to the peak, a sandstone-walled, tin-roof establishment one of the only buildings visible, smoke emanating from the chimney, the lights from the windows making it a vision of warmth within the barren, snow-laden landscape. 'Olga's,' a rusted tin sign perched above the welcoming front door, next to one of the largest piles of firewood they'd seen tucked away from the ravages of the climate.

"Greetings," a voice echoed at them as they hopped out of the SUV. They turned to find a clean-shaven man in his mid-30's wearing a thick khaki coat with the national park's logo emblazoned upon the front pocket and a matching wide-brimmed hat. "You the guys looking into that double homicide?"

"Agent Teresa Lisbon," she said introducing herself with a flash of her badge, "this is Patrick Jane."

"Ranger Pete Calloway," the man introduced, shaking Lisbon and then Jane's hand. "We don't see a lot of those horrors out here," he said, shaking his head.

"We're trying to track down Francis Lestenkof, need to ask him a few questions. Any idea where we can find him?" Lisbon asked.

"Haven't seen him for a while," Calloway answered. "He works and lives here with his mom," he said nodding at Olga's, "although he's been known to couch surf with friends down the mountain too."

"Names?" Lisbon quizzed, as Jane gave her a cheery salute and slipped through the front door of Olga's tavern, leaving Lisbon out the front talking to Ranger Calloway.

It was not long until the impromptu conversation wrapped up and both Lisbon and Calloway followed suit into the establishment. After a quick scan, she found Jane seated at the bar, pinching the top of his nose with one hand and holding a fistful of bloody tissues under his nose with the other.

"Jane, are you okay?" she said cautiously, "what are you doing?"

"Investigating," he replied proudly, despite holding his nose with a pronounced sulk, giving a clear indication that he felt his one-word answer was succinct.

"I'm going to need more than that Jane," Lisbon replied flatly.

Jane sighed and turned to face her. "You know, maybe it's not that I leave things out or not tell people what I'm up to, but it's just I need to spell every little thing out for you guys. If you maybe tried to keep up, and pay attention a little once in a while, I wouldn't seem so scheming and conniving."

"All hail Jane the genius," she said mockingly with a little elbow nudge, "now can you tell me what you're up to?"

"Well, Johnson's gay"

"—so you assume"

"You assume that I assume. I don't assume, I know," he rebutted, Lisbon scrunched up her face to follow his logic.

"And I'm a handsome man, an attractive catch, right?"

She rolled her eyes but gave him a little smile. "That still doesn't explain why you're nursing a blood-nose right now."

"I'm just putting the feels out there and tracking for knee-jerk reactions to some of the men around here, seeing if it's utter disinterest or disgust, or the kind of reactions you were giving me in the changeroom of our little shopping adventures."

Her cheeks flushed almost immediately. "Oh so you think you're god's gift to men now too?"

"Eh, so personal taste is refined. But when someone with the bone structure and symmetry, and charm that I have has a little flirt, there's an initial reaction in that first microsecond. A biological reaction is a biological reaction."

"You won't have facial symmetry working for you much longer if you keep getting punched," she pointed out.

"Occupational hazard"

"And so you found that biological reaction can also be a swift fist to the face?" she taunted.

"Well that's more just a plain old reaction than a biological reaction," he reasoned. "Look, it's not an exact science, and it might not even work. But there's only one way to find out."

"And how's that going for you?" she asked with a smirk.

"This isn't Little Britain. I can guarantee there's more than one gay in the village. Johnson had a lover, and I guarantee that's in some way linked to his death"

"And Cassie? You think she's just the unfortunate by-product?"

"Precisely, wrong place, wrong time," Jane eagerly agreed.

"Or it could be as simple as Cassie was cheating on Francis with Johnson. Teacher and man of wealth, attractive young student. Francis catches them in the act, loses it and is now in hiding," Lisbon elaborated.

"Doubtful"

"Doubtful? Or not interesting enough for your liking?"

"Mehhh, I'm all about catching killers Lisbon. All for the pursuit of justice," he emphasised with a triumphant fist in the air.

Lisbon snorted. "Right. Okay, you do what you need to. I'm going to talk to Olga and the other staff," she said with an affectionate squeeze of his shoulder.

Jane exhausted his theory on the rest of the men in the tavern, including Carroway. Whilst he wasn't on the receiving end of any more acts of violence, he didn't find the reaction he was seeking from any of them. After bombing out with his final candidate, he joined Lisbon's conversation with Carroway, who she'd struck up another conversational line of questioning with after having zero luck of her own talking to Olga, the older woman stone-walling her for any useful information about her son they sought.

"And it was your barn the victims were found in?" Lisbon asked.

"No, not my barn. That was on public land, but yes, it is part of the area I caretake," Carroway answered.

"Know much about the victims?"

"Sure. In a town this size, everyone knows everyone."

She then noticed the consultant at her elbow.

"Jane, we better head down before it gets too dark," she said as she flicked her head, warily looking at the worsening conditions out the window. The sky had already turned dark, precipitation fell from the sky in sheets.

"I wouldn't be doing that," Carroway remarked. "The storm has started, the roads will be incredibly slick, the sleet at this temperature without the sun can be deadly," he explained. "It's nearly sundown, even locals wouldn't attempt the drive unless it's a life or death situation."

Oh, it might be soon, Jane thought to himself watching Lisbon's expression evolve.

"We have a sleepout just down the way attached to the house. It's not much, but it has heating and a sofa bed. See out the storm and make it back down at first light."

"That's incredibly generous of you Calloway, but we'll just find a motel or something," Lisbon thanked. Jane laughed, Calloway joining him.

"What's so funny?" Lisbon demanded.

"Well, there really ain't much up here," Calloway pointed out. "A few cabins the locals live in, the ranger station, and Olga's here. That's literally about it."

"No motels, not even a 7/11 or a Starbucks," Jane supplemented mockingly. "Thank you, Calloway," he said turning to the ranger, "that will sure beat freezing to death or sliding off the side of the mountain in the dark."

"Right?" he asked Lisbon, only to be met with a hugely unimpressed glare, which only fuelled his amusement some more.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Calloway's sleepout didn't consist of much. It was more akin to a rumpus room, consisting of a sofa and a couple of old armchairs, a table and a modest heater glowing to one side, and a large, woven sunset-colored rug that tied the room together. The walls were adorned with photos, paper articles, and nature-based artwork around the area, as well as a few taxidermized critters mounted unceremoniously on the wall. The sofa pulled out into a bed, which Calloway had graciously made, giving them somewhere to weather the storm for the night.

Lisbon stared out the window with her arms gently crossed, looking out wistfully out to the storm that was assaulting the area.

"This wasn't exactly what I was expecting for our takeout and conversations, but it will do," Jane piped up from the armchair across the room.

She gave him an inquisitive stare and pursed her lips. "You really want to do this here?"

"Better place than any," he said with a shrug.

She turned back and stared thoughtfully out the window some more.

"And I think we do need it, I don't like the lingering cold undertones we've had since the Macy case," Jane continued.

"Well, we had plans, Jane. Important plans. And you stood me up," she said carefully and deliberately.

"You know I didn't have much of a choice in that."

"Yeah, I know," she said with a pained sigh. "It still hurt all the same… And it killed me with worry."

"It's nice to know you care," he said quietly.

"Of course, I care. How could you say I don't?" she replied emphatically.

"I get a whole mixed bag of signals from you, Teresa. For someone I'm closest to, you sure as hell are the hardest person for me to read."

"Well, maybe that ain't such a bad thing," she pointed out.

"Maybe."

She began to pace slowly, her arms still softly crossed.

"I just don't know what I want Jane…"

"I think you do, I think you're just afraid," he interrupted.

"Can you blame me?" she asked without missing a beat.

"No, not at all," he said shaking his head and looking down at his hands.

She continued to pace, before stopping and looking directly at him.

"Is this something that you'd want?" she asked cautiously.

"What do you mean?

"You know what I mean," her stare piercing his soul.

He exhaled pointedly. "Want. Yes. Deserve, No. And I'm surprised you need to ask."

"Okay," she replied with a nod.

"Okay?" he questioned.

"Yeah. Okay."

"Thanks for that clarity."

"You know, for someone that claims that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, you seem to resort to it often."

"And for someone who claims to not know what they want, I think you seem to have a pretty good idea."

She felt like a cat in a cage. She had nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide. She sat down on the end of the sofa bed and clasped her hands to her knees.

"So tell me… what are you afraid of?" he asked, leaning forward earnestly in his seat.

"The same things you are," she said knowingly.

"I think we're already past that point though."

"How so?"

"Well…" he calculated, "whether we're in a relationship or not right now, we're already in a relationship."

"That made zero sense," she replied with a huff.

"Given the way we are now already, all repercussions would feel the same. Dating or not." He stood up and took a seat next to her on the sofa bed and grabbed her hands, resting them in his lap.

"It wouldn't change how devastated I would feel if I lost you," he began to elaborate. "It wouldn't change how deeply I care about you. It wouldn't change how torn up I'd feel to see you with someone else. It wouldn't change the intense need I have to be around you, or the desire to see you happy."

He took a deep breath and gazed at her intensely. "That's all already there."

"So then why do things have to change?" she squeaked quietly, looking into his eyes.

"Because I want more. And I think you do too."

It felt weird to see him like this. To hear him like this. So open, so raw, so honest. It was a side she'd never really seen of him as they adamantly placed boundaries within their working relationship for years and years, despite undeniable mutual interest in each other. Boundaries of self-preservation, boundaries of denial to preserve kinship, all disintegrating so quickly leaving nothing to protect their inner sanctums anymore.

She traced her thumb against the back of his hand as she looked deep in thought. "And what if it doesn't work out?" a pinch of fear and dread undeniable in her voice.

"Then, we work it out," he said confidently, squeezing her hands.

"It's just that simple, is it?" she said with a half laugh.

"It can be."

She removed her hands from his and stood up to pace the room once more.

"I just need to wrap my head around it all. How is it that you have such a handle on things? You seem so sure of yourself."

"Teresa, I had two years where I had nothing to do but think and wrap my head around things. And write to you, of course. But forgive me if I don't want to give you two years to think about it. Call me impatient."

"Do you have any idea what it was like when you were gone?" she said frantically in a pained burst. "There was a huge part of me that was convinced I was never going to see you again. That you were never going to be able to come back or if you'd even want to. I had to deal with that accordingly. That wasn't easy."

"I know, I'm sorry"

"It's okay, I mean, what were your alternatives?" she reasoned, crossing her arms. "And we weren't… we weren't anything, you know? Colleagues, friends. You didn't owe anything to me"

"But it still hurt like I was something more, right?"

"Yeah, it did."

"I think as much as we try to deny it, our relationship whatever it might be, has been more significant to be labeled down as colleagues or close friends. The connection we've had…"

"Yeah, I know," she interrupted, understanding exactly what he was trying to describe.

"I wrote to you. No one else."

She smiled at him gingerly. "It helped, it really did."

"I'm glad," he said. "You know, they say that's how always the downfall of someone hiding from their past. They always need to reach out to that special someone. That someone that's worth more than a new life. That's how Abbott and his clan found me, through the letters to you."

"They did?"

"And the irony of it all is that rather than damning me completely, it gave me the option to return. To return to you."

"And then after all of that not knowing, all of a sudden, you're here, you're back," she threw her hands in the air as she spoke animatedly. "And I feel such a rush a of different things. It's all very overwhelming. And I'm trying to process it. It… it's just, I'm not very good with this stuff."

"Easier to ignore it all and hope it all goes away and figures itself out?"

"Exactly."

"I get it. I do," he nodded with a slight shrug.

"I don't know if you could," she said defensively.

"You have scars from your past that make it difficult to open up," he started, watching her intently. "You don't like to open up. You think it makes you vulnerable, you think it makes you weak. So you block anything and everything out. That's why in the 12 years I've known you, you have never once been in a serious relationship. You're afraid to open yourself up to the possibility, you're afraid to put yourself in a situation where god forbid, you might actually feel something. That's why you put these high walls up, to push everyone away, to keep everyone out. You've been doing it since your mother died, because you don't want to feel that hurt again. And you saw the way that hurt destroyed your father, and you're petrified you'll go down the same path if you ever allow yourself to feel and give fully to a relationship."

Her brow furrowed. "When did this turn into a shrink session, Dr Phil?"

"Don't be resentful because I'm right. But please, by all means, go ahead and deflect with humour."

"I learn from the best," she smirked.

"But don't you think I understand all that? Don't you realise that I have such dark things and deep scars from my past, that I might be able to empathise?"

She looked at him questioningly.

"I was so consumed with my own self-loathing fuelled desire for vengeance, I lost sight of what really mattered. I stopped living. I was incapable of feeling anything apart from that self-hate and narrow-visioned thirst for revenge," he ranted passionately.

"And of course," he continued "The thought of letting anyone too close scares me for obvious reasons. I've felt the loss. I understand the fear. And the thought of losing is the scariest prospect in the world for me, even now. But I'm not going to let that control me. And neither should you."

She didn't reply. She poised herself at the window once more, watching the sky open and beat relentlessly upon their surroundings, the sound of the echoing storm punctuating the silence, as she looked deep in thought.

He stood up and joined her at the window, cautiously looping his hands around her waist once more, as he did not so long ago afront a sunset view. She allowed him and sunk her head against his collarbone once more. They stood again in silence, staring out into the storm.

"What can I do to help you get through this? These thoughts of yours," he whispered after several minutes.

"Time. I just need a little time. I think."

"Time, I can do. I owe you all the patience and then some from over the years"

Lisbon exhaled with a smile. "Thanks"

"Doesn't mean I'm not going to keep trying to charm the pants off you in the meantime."

"We're technically on a case, Jane," she said pulling away and poking him roughly in the chest. "Would it kill you to be professional for once in your life?"

"It might. Never tried it. Don't care for it," he joked, as the air transformed back to their normal lightness through their playful bickering, breaking the fierce, emotion-heavy tension it had moments before.

"It's such an odd social construct, isn't it?" Jane mused. "Professionalism. Behaving in a manner that sees you as socially conformist within the workplace."

"And heaven forbid you ever conform socially to anything."

"Conformity is the jailer of freedom and the enemy of growth," he quipped back.

"We should try and get some sleep," she suggested after looking at the time.

"Yeah," he agreed, "I'll sleep on the floor. Can't be any harder than the trestle in the CBI attic," he offered graciously, but knowing she wouldn't stand for it.

"Don't be silly, you'll freeze."

"Are you asking me into bed with you Agent Lisbon?"

She scowled at him. "Any part of you that crosses that central line, I'll chop off"

"You and what axe?"

"Fine, I'll shoot off," she joked, as she took her holster off and placed it on the table by the sofa bed.

He chuckled. "Got it. No funny business."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They lay in the lumpy sofa bed. Side by side but strictly apart. Staring straight up at the ceiling.

Lisbon's mind raced, struggling to process their whole conversation from earlier. Her heart pounding so loudly, she was sure Jane could hear it despite being a good foot away from her. There was a rigid tension in the air, the suggestive nuance of sharing sleeping arrangements, especially given the current obliquity of their relationship.

She shivered slightly. The heater, although try as it might, wasn't overly effective in heating the room. Jane was just there. She had slept pillowed on his chest the night before, albeit around a plane full of people. She craved his warmth, both because her extremities were struggling to maintain heat, and furthermore in a comforting sense that she was coming more and more to terms with.

"Jane," she whispered. "Jane, are you awake?"

"Yes"

"It's really cold"

"It is indeed a bit"

"Do… Would it be okay… Are you going to be a jackass if…"

"-If you want a snuggle Lisbon, I'm all for it."

She scowled. "That's exactly what I'm talking about, why do you have to call it that?"

"You were the one thinking it."

"Not the point! You know what, forget about it, it's totally unprofessional, forget I even said anything"

"A man and a woman sharing a bed in a room on an isolated mountain for the evening, there are many more shades of unprofessional we could reach than snuggling because you're cold."

"Oh my god, seriously? I might even sleep on the floor now," she said jerking up.

"Really? Really Lisbon? Well, do as you please. Your personal hot water bottle is here should you choose to use it"

She stared at him in disdain as he lay there, arms crossed, eyes closed, the corners of his mouth turned up slyly. She pursed her lips and sighed audibly. He grinned without opening his eyes and stretched out the arm closest to her.

"And you promise you're not going to try and kiss me again like the last time you tried to keep me warm?" she asked warily.

"Aww, really?" he joked cheekily.

"Yes, promise! I want to hear you say it"

"What if you kiss me first?"

"Not likely"

"Hmmm," he feigned thought.

"Promise!" she demanded.

"I don't like making promises I can't keep"

"Ha! Since when?" she snorted.

"So, you want me to make a promise I won't keep?"

She grabbed her pillow and whacked him across the face. He laughed, eyes still closed, arm still outstretched in offer.

She narrowed her eyes at him and finally relented, curling into his side with her head on his chest. He turned into her, pulling her deep into his arms and rubbing her back in a caring attempt to warm her up. She breathed in deeply and exhaled contentedly. That scent. Jane. So comforting to her senses as she savoured his warmth, his being, every part of him all around her. It was nice. No, it was more than nice. She really didn't hate this at all.

"Your biological reactions betray you so," he taunted in a sing-songy voice.

"Oh hush," she admonished.

"No need to be ashamed Lisbon, you're only human. And I do have nice hair after all"

"Ugh, just go to sleep," she instructed as she tried to mask a grin.

"Yes boss," he said light-heartedly and planted a soft kiss on the top of her hair.

She smiled, but rolled her eyes, and nuzzled a little further into him, the warmth from the base of his neck defrosting the tip of her nose.

The darkness of the night disguised his stellar grin as he held her in his arms. Despite the hesitations, enduring stubbornness, and deep emotional issues they were both plagued with, they were making progress. And he could feel the way she felt – it made his heart sing. He couldn't clearly remember a time when he felt more at peace and contented than he did here in this very moment, the woman of his dreams dreaming in his arms. This was what living life was all about.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

An older over-enthusiastic Dolly Parton look-alike affronted Cho and Wylie as they arrived at the Cantwell Police Station at first light.

"My world-famous breakfast biscuits," she announced shrilly, thrusting a hatched basket lined with a checkered cloth filled with warm-smelling cookies under their noses. "Oatmeal raisin, low in sugar, high in fiber, homemade with no nasties. A good filling start to the day!" she said with a proud grin. She left the basket on the table in front of them and headed for the door, giving Sheriff Cardiff a doting kiss on the way out.

"The wife. She keeps trying to get me to lose weight," Cardiff grumbled as he patted his belly. "Nothing wrong with a hearty bacon and eggs for breakfast, but she's all about the cholesterol," he said, taking a sad bite of the biscuit with a cringe, turning to his uniforms to debrief the night shift.

Wylie eyeballed the basket curiously.

"Jane and Lisbon got stranded atop mountain because of the storm, locals will need to okay the descent before they head back down," Cho informed Wylie while flicking through interview notes from yesterday. "Vega's getting coffee, shouldn't be far off."

"Glad it was them, it would be awkward stranded in one of those cabins with someone other than you're partner," said Wylie, biting in a biscuit and giving it a nod of approval.

"They're not partners, we don't have partners in this unit, we're a team," Cho answered back.

"No, not like work partners, like partner partners, like dating partners."

"They're not dating," Cho supplemented reflexly without thinking.

"They're not? Are you sure?"

Cho deadpanned him a look.

"Oh, it's like that? But why is it like that? Everyone knows they're dating. Are they not dating?"

Cho ignored him but Wylie kept talking.

"Oh right Lisbon went on that date the other week with that lawyer guy from upstairs!" Wylie exclaimed in realisation. "So, they're not dating?" he continued apprehensively, "But they used to date? What is the deal with them anyway?

Cho continued to ignore him, but Wylie didn't seem to care.

"Well, if they're not together, then that would have been a very awkward evening."

There was a moment of silence, before Wylie continued to have the conversation without reciprocation.

"Have they ever been together, like they were together, right? That would be even more awkward if that was your ex. Although, they don't behave like they're exes, me and my ex, geez," he feigned a shudder. "I mean they kind of act like an old married couple, they bicker like an old married couple."

Cho gave him a flat glare.

"Are you sure they're not together?" Wylie tried one more time with a questioning head tilt.

"When Vega gets in, we're going back to keep going with the interviews of the other art students," Cho replied, once more shunning his attempts to probe.

Good, Wylie thought. Vega was much better to gossip with than Cho, albeit would know less than Cho about the situation.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Despite the cold and the less than luxurious sleep facilities the cabin offered, Lisbon slept unusually well, a deep, solid sleep that had regularly eluded her for quite some time. She awoke still completely buried in the surprisingly muscular arms of her broad-shouldered consultant, her head just under his chin, her face up against his chest, her arms crossed up against her own chest with her hands on her heart while he held her quite firmly. Her petite frame the perfect size for his grip, keeping her encapsulated and warm, as they faced each other in their embrace. Their legs were comfortably intertwined, his body heat and his embrace comfortable and pleasant.

She allowed herself the indulgence to enjoy it a few moments longer and to allow her mind to wander to places she'd strictly banned it from going, in previous times. God, it really did feel good here in his arms. It felt indescribable waking up in his embrace, being so close, having their bodies together in so many different places. She loved the way his chest warmed her cheek, she loved the feeling of being engulfed in his arms, she loved his gentle musk - but she struggled with the fact that she loved it so much and struggled with the fact that it felt so satisfying.

She wondered what the time was, but she was also stuck in this position, he was so firmly wrapped around her that any movement would rouse him, and break their perfect cocoon. He was the warm bed she was so reluctant to leave. She indulged herself a little longer, her attention suddenly growing aware of all of him and a foreign firmness her hip happened to be against.

"You know, I wouldn't object," Jane's raspy morning voice startling her.

She pulled away from his grasp. "How long have you been awake for?" she choked, ignoring his remark.

"Longer than you," he said with a shit-eating grin.

"Then why didn't you say something earlier? I didn't want to move and wake you"

"I was enjoying it as much as you were"

She couldn't help but grin as she rolled her eyes at him. She checked her phone, it was just past 6am. The sun was barely piercing the sky and the room was cold.

"It's still early," he pointed out, "and it's cold. Come back here for another five minutes," he pleaded. "It's much warmer here."

She looked back at him with a dimpled pout. His tousled blonde locks looked so alluring even though he'd just woken up, morning stubble framed his million-dollar grin in a ruggedly fetching way, his blue eyes shining with such cheek and hope. He gently bit his bottom lip and she could resist no more. What the hey, she thought to herself as she relented, bouncing back into bed to curl back into him. They had just woken up like that, what was the harm in allowing herself the shameless indulgence a little bit more?

"That's my girl," Jane said as he welcomed her body back to its position.

"Since when am I yours?" she reflexly retorted into his chest.

"From the day I met you, you've been my shining star," he replied. "You know you've always been something so significant and important to me," he said, pulling her in closer again.

"Nice deflection," she humoured. "Cheesy. But points for effort."

"Eh, it's true," he replied, "You know Lisbon…" he began, edging into what would clearly be a heartfelt reflection.

"Don't ruin this with that damn mouth of yours," she murmured into his chest, her eyes closed as she breathed him in.

He laughed, his chest vibrating against her cheek. "Fine," he lamented, "as you wish. Just know there's more than one way my mouth could ruin this for you." His cheeky response met with a swift punch to the shoulder before she folded her arms into herself and snuggled into her warm spot once more.

He hummed in appreciation.

The warmth, his heartbeat, his all-encapsulating grip… Heavenly.

She made the mistake of pulling away ever-so-slightly to glance up at his face.

She traced her dainty fingers across the stubble on his jawline and danced them across his lips. She could feel him react to her touch although he kept his eyes firmly closed, almost to keep himself composed.

"You can't tell me you don't want this," he whispered through tortured breath, her fingers still tracing across his lips as he spoke.

"I know," mirroring his whisper.

"Then what's stopping you?" he almost begged in question.

"I'm… I'm scared"

"And that's okay. But you don't need to be…"

"If only it were that simple," she murmured

"You know, the best reason to do something is because you're-"

In that moment, the magnetism between them just became too much to bear. She caved, simply unable to hold back anymore. She interrupted his sentence crushing his lips with her own in an intense burst of passion. He shuddered with surprise and reciprocated fiercely as she pulled him in by the curls.

She kissed him with every iota of repressed passion she had kept tucked away in her cautious hesitations, like she was desperate for him to feel it all, to know it all. To understand that behind her wary exterior was a real woman, one that had immensely deep feelings for him, despite still dealing with the crushing denial, despite being as messed up as she thought she was.

His hands wandered up and down her body with free reign as he pulled her in close, his touch electrifying to her senses as she lost herself in him. Everything poured out of her with such passion, such force, like nothing else mattered – all she wanted was him and for the world to stand still in this moment. For consequences and fears not to exist, and for this feeling to last forever.

And she could feel how much he wanted it too pressed firmly across her belly.

She pushed his back onto the mattress and pulled herself on top of him, straddling his hips with subtle aggression as he reacted like the wind was knocked out of him. He looked up at her with shocked disbelief and nervous anticipation as she looked back at him with darkened, hungry eyes. She dove back down, connecting their mouths once more in an intensely carnal embrace, her flowing hair providing their osculation with a soft, dark curtain.

He seemed a little more than lost in the moment. Not sure where to place his hands, his breath erratic from the onslaught. Like the once overly zealous, cocky, and confident Jane had disappeared and been replaced with one ripe with paralyzing nervous fear as they ventured into unchartered territory. She trailed her kisses from his mouth, across his stubbled jawline, and onto the cradle of his neck

"Lisbon, I... I—," he stammered nervously as his eyes rolled into the back of his head with the hot, lush feel of her lips against his neck.

She stopped and locked eyes with him. And in that moment, it was like all the sense and doubts that had evaded her as she let deeper desires take over, came rushing back into her brain with vengeance.

She cleared her throat and clambered off of him clumsily, her cheeks flushed from arousal with a mild hue of embarrassment from her sheer brazenness.

"Uh, we should probably get ready for work," she announced standing up from the bed and running her fingers through her fair distraughtly.

"Yeah, I guess," he said with a deep breath, "let's do that."

They fumbled around preparing for the day without conversation and dodging eye contact with each other. At least that's what Lisbon assumed Jane was doing too, as that's exactly what she was doing. She didn't realise his eyes were trailing her as she moved around, observing her quietly, while he re-evaluated his own actions and reactions, worried that she misinterpreted his humble nerves as disinterest.

Dressed and ready, she finally allowed herself to look at him as she reached for the door. He locked eyes with her immediately.

"Lisbon, before we go," he started, his blue gaze set upon her so piercingly she couldn't look away, a shade of honest, solemn desperation replacing the confident, cheeky twinkle she was so used to. "There are no mistakes, there are no coincidences. You're resisting this. I get it. It's fine. I understand all your reasons. I do. Honestly. I just need you to know the door's wide open if you ever choose to come through it."

She stared back at him wordlessly, knowing he was right, hating but appreciating the way he could read her so.

"I want this," he said his finger motioning between them. "I want you. More than anything. I just want to make that perfectly clear."

She stared at him for a moment, stuck on how to react. "Come on, we're going to be late," she finally managed to reply and led them out of the sleepout.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They reunited with the rest of the team back in the main part of Cantwell, who had presented minimal new leads from their course of interviews, none of which seemed to be more promising than tracking down Francis Lestenkof, who still had managed to evade the search of Cardiff's crew. Deciding it was pertinent to prioritise locating him, the team set about following up the leads provided by Carroway, whilst Wylie scoured his online activity for any hints as to his location.

Lisbon and Jane sat in front of an address ten minutes out of Cantwell, where they'd been instructed to stake out - a quaint little cottage, rendered in red brick with old cars resting where a garden would normally be.

She didn't hate being on stakeouts with Jane. It was better than Rigsby – the man sounded like a demonic caterpillar when he ate, and the car always reeked of takeaway. Jane at least smelt a lot better, and the conversations were stimulating when he wasn't being intentionally irritating. The air was a little different this morning though, the lingering energy of their intimate antics from earlier and the walls that were disappearing from the allowable depth of their conversation.

"It's only awkward if you think it's awkward," Jane said out of nowhere, once again able to ride her train of thoughts like often did so well.

"I don't think it's awkward," she replied uptight and awkwardly.

"Right, okay," he said with a smirk.

She thought back to his gaze before they left the mountain, the words he spoke as he tried to make his stance perfectly clear. I want this. His words reverberated in her head as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. He lifted a bottle of water to his mouth, his wedding ring glinting at her with the morning sun.

"Maybe I'm not the only one with my reservations," she suddenly spoke. "Why are you still wearing your wedding ring?"

He was startled by the question. "My wedding ring?"

"Yeah," she replied softly. "Surely that shows that you're not ready to move on yet?"

He looked down at the ring of gold on his finger and twisted it thoughtfully. "I, uh… well I suppose that's… that's complicated."

"Complicated, how?" she probed further.

He searched for the right words to say.

"Lestenkof, there!" she said with urgency, interrupting his thoughts, pointing out the window to a sullen-looking young adult skulking down the way.

She sprang out of the car. It was times like this she hated being paired with Jane – he was about as useful as tits on a bull in these kinds of situations, leaving all the cardio and muscle work for her to do solo. She didn't mind the challenge, nor the adrenalin, but she wasn't as young as she used to be.

She announced herself as she charged toward him. He turned and bolted. She rolled her eyes before following suit. Over the fences of backyards they went, the young assailant not as nimble as the experienced agent, succumbing to a tackle straight into the slush-covered ground with an audible grunt and splash.

She marched her cuffed and sopping wet counterpart back down the road to the SUV, her partner/consultant leaning against the trunk, waiting for their return.

"You're wet," Jane said looking at the pair, "And a mess." He screwed up his face.

"Thanks for your help," she replied sarcastically, shoving Lestenkof into the back seat and slamming the door.

"Lisbon," Jane grabbed her arm as she reached for her own door.

"About my ring," Jane started thoughtfully twiddling around his finger with his thumb. He sighed deeply, trying to hide his pained expression.

"It… it reminds me to not forget. It's a band-aid that helps keep my grief in check. It's been with me for a long time and it would feel strange without it," he finished trying to gauge her reaction. "Does it bother you?" he asked.

"Why would it bother me, Jane?" she responded nonchalantly, "I'm not your girlfriend, it's none of my business."

"Mmmm," he responded, "if it's none of your business, then why bring it up in the first place?"

"Okay, you got me," she rescinded, her nonchalance breaking from the depth of thought and pain she could feel from him. "I was just curious. And your explanation is really fair enough. Honestly. I'm sorry I even brought it up," she said with a soft sense of compassion, feeling like a complete fool and a heartless shrew for addressing the topic in the first place.

"And you'd be the only one in the world that would really understand it," he said hushed and reservedly. "So maybe I still wear it to ward anyone off except for you."

She nodded at him in wordless reticence and touched his elbow gently, still feeling like an ass for bringing up the subject. In a way, she did understand it. All their history, everything she had seen him go through since the first time she led him into that file room at the CBI with the leather couch propped up against the wall. Every time someone would ask if he had any children over the years, and he would answer with a heart-breaking 'no.' Every taunt from Red John, every time they thought they were close. Every time he had slipped through their grasp and they lost someone along the way. She'd been with him for it all. She too had deep scars from her past like he did, but none that quite had the haunting ability that his demons were capable of achieving.

They hopped back in the car and delivered their suspect back to the station.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Watching Cho interview Lestenkof was like watching a lion rip apart an antelope. Lisbon admired his interrogation skills. It often brought her great amusement and pride, as she had seen him evolve over the years.

"Head over to the mechanics and corroborate his alibi. See if the camera footage he claims to be there exists. Everyone's a little too friendly in this town, I'd rather have solid confirmation than someone's word," Cho instructed Lisbon after he had picked Lestenkof's carcass clean.

"You got it"

"And take Jane with you, I can't have him here pushing Cardiff's buttons anymore," Cho said a little more quietly, peering over at the consultant on the other side of the room, knees touching with Cardiff's wife. They were deep in a heart-felt, borderline flirtatious conversation, as he gave her the look and the knee-weakening smile that Lisbon knew all too familiar with. And she was lapping it up completely.

"JANE!" Lisbon hollered across the room, startling the pair. "We're up, let's go."

Jane flashed the wife once last swoon-worthy grin and stepped in line behind Lisbon, tailing her like an obedient puppy-dog.

"He didn't do it, I don't know why we're wasting our time driving out here," Jane said staring out the window at the passing countryside as they headed to the mechanics Lestenkof claimed to be waiting for a friend at during the time of the murders. "We should be focusing on identifying Johnson's lover."

"You just won't let that drop will you, even with zero evidence? Is that why you didn't show any interest in the interview with Lestenkof?" she asked, even though it was more so a statement of realisation to herself than a question. "And it's called detective work. That's what I'm doing. You're here so you don't ruffle any more feathers for Cho to smooth over."

"Oh is that why? I just figured you were lost without me," he said smugly. "Nice lady that Mrs Cardiff."

"I wouldn't be lost, maybe more calm and at peace, lower blood-pressure, thinner personnel file…"

"And don't forget miserable and lonely," he said, gently poking her in the ribs.

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "I need a coffee," she announced, pulling the car into the General Store they'd stopped at for fuel the day before. "Want anything?"

"Plenty of things I want," he said with a suggestive eyebrow, "but not from in there." She smirked back and left him in the car.

The espresso machine had seen better days she thought, watching the brown swill spurt into her takeaway cup. She hoped it would taste better than it looked.

"Catch the murderer yet, honey?" the lady behind the counter crooned.

"The investigation is ongoing," she replied diplomatically.

"Definitely make sure you get up that mountain and poke around Olga's," the lady said, pointing in the direction of the mountain." That old hag and that son of hers are full of no-good if you ask me," she said with a scoff.

"We were there yesterday," Lisbon replied, "but thanks for the tip."

"Oh you poor thing, you went with him?" she exclaimed in reply. "I told that charmer you're traveling with not to go up there before that storm. There was no way yous'd be making it back down that night and they don't have much by the means of accommodation up there, I hope your night wasn't too uncomfortable."

"Wait, he knew about that?" Lisbon asked in confused surprise.

"Yeah, I told him straight away, that's my job here really, you out-of-towners have no idea what it can be like out here. He was very insistent you go up there that night and seemed oddly pleased about being stranded. What can I say, different strokes for different folks."

"My work partner? Are you sure? Blondey-brown hair, about 5ft 10…"

"Lassie, not too many folks come through here that are from out of town. Yes, that's the one. I wouldn't forget buns like that in a hurry. And he bought that ridiculous-looking orange beanie as well."

She froze. The all too familiar swell of rage started twisting within her. One uniquely caused by Jane, and whenever she found herself on the receiving end of one of his ploys, tricks, or scams. She found herself questioning all the events of the night before. Their deep and meaningful talks that seemed so raw and honest, the intimacy and heat she had found within his arms. Her face grew hot with displeasure, as she questioned whether any of it was even real or if she had just fallen victim to his manipulation once more.

She stormed out of the General Store to find the SUV empty. Looking around, she found Jane loitering around the snow-littered park across the way, staring at the rocky base below a monument. She could nearly feel the steam coming out of her ears as she marched in his direction, poised to attack.

"Check this out," he grinned, crouching in front of a lone purple flower in full bloom that had grown through the cracks of the rocks, sticking out through the snow. "Absolutely incredible…"

"-You knew," she yelled.

"What?" he asked in confusion. "I know lots of things."

"You knew. You knew about the storm, you knew we'd get stranded up there and still, you insisted we go up there last night. You didn't even mention it to me," she continued to yell at him.

His face contorted as he realised the seriousness of her anger. "I didn't lie. I don't tell you every little detail of every little thing. You'd get sick of me talking. I didn't lie."

"But that was a pretty big thing to leave out"

"We were following orders anyhow, why would that have made a difference?"

"So all of a sudden you're so big on following orders? Fine. You should've told Cho. We wasted time waiting out the storm, not to mention putting ourselves in a vulnerable position with no accommodation. Cho would have sent us up in the morning."

"You don't know that."

"And you didn't know that either because you didn't bother mentioning it to anyone. What was the big plan, Jane? Force me to share a bed with you? That's low, even for you."

"It was still useful to the case. So, what if I knew we'd have to spend the night up there, I swear I had no idea about what accommodation we'd be in for"

"That's even worst, we could've frozen to death in the car"

"Unlikely, country folk are friendly folk"

"With a murderer in their midst!"

"There's that too"

"This is exactly what I mean Jane. I am constantly having to second guess everything you do or say to try and figure out if there's any subtext or hidden agendas. I am constantly on my toes, second guessing myself, second-guessing you. It's exhausting"

"We needed the opportunity to talk. The job completely screwed the last time we were supposed to, so why not use the job to recreate the same opportunity it destroyed?"

"So you trap me? Back me into a corner for your own whims?"

"Whims? Forgive me if I just wanted to have a mature conversation with you."

"Mature? So why not just come out and ask like a normal human being? Or do you even know how to act like one anymore"

"I don't understand why you're so angry about this!"

"And that's exactly the problem! You constantly manipulate situations, manipulate me. You don't give a damn about how I feel. And what's worse, you refuse to see and accept what you're doing wrong."

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset you."

"The bottom line is," she said, both her voice and body shaking, "I can't really trust you."

"But you can. On the important stuff. You've said that before"

"Right, exactly it, so I need to figure out if it's important or not first to decide if I should trust you? I need to constantly analyse anything that falls out of your mouth. Exhausting. Why would I want to put up with that any more than I have to? I navigate it at work because we catch a lot of bad guys, but why would I put up with it in my personal life too?"

"Because of what we have"

"I don't know what that is"

"You might not know, but you can feel it."

"How am I supposed to even know what that might be when every step of the way you are fabricating something, or manipulating me, or spouting some kind of lies or bullshit."

He looked down at his feet and stubbed a toe into the snow.

"You know Jane, lies and leaving, it's what you're good at," she spat angrily. "I don't know why you even bothered coming back after all that time"

"Isn't it obvious? Can't you see it?" he said exasperatedly, close to yelling. "I came back for you! I came back to be around you. I came back because I couldn't bear the thought any more of waking up and knowing that I won't see you"

The sheer truthful desperation in the wobble in her voice took her slightly aback. She stared back at him with glassy eyes and mixed expressions as he drew her in with every word.

"Look, yeah sure, you're right. I lie, and I trick people. But it's to hide the truth of how I feel. And the thought of letting anyone close to me is terrifying, for those obvious reasons. But the truth is, I'm in love with you. And yeah, it scares me too. But it's the truth, it's the truth of how I feel. I love you."

She stared at him for a moment in disbelief, a tear spilling over from her welled eye as she processed his heartfelt confession. "What the hell was that?" she finally found the words to produce, "You… you can't just drop something like that on me!" she said panicked, as she started to pace.

"It's the truth. And you deserve to hear it," he said emphatically, tears welling in his own eyes.

"Maybe it's just too late Jane, maybe you've screwed me around one too many times."

She turned abruptly and stormed back to the SUV, slamming the door as she hopped in. She sped off, wheels spinning, leaving a crestfallen Jane watching her as she disappeared.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He stared thoughtfully at the purple flower growing out through the snow. 'Violet Crocus,' a nearby sign boasted in front of a well-organised bed of flowers, shielded from the elements strategically. But it was this one that brought him the greatest interest. Even in the harshest of climates, despite the rocks it had to weave through, and the cold snow it had to endure, something so beautiful could grow. He sighed and looked in the direction the SUV had disappeared down. It had been well over an hour and she was ignoring his phone calls. He knew she wasn't coming back.

He'd finally told her the truth. The whole truth. Exactly how it felt. And as scary and daunting as it all was, it felt so good to get it off his chest. She knew now, she knew it all. And whilst he didn't get the reaction he was hoping for, he felt good for being honest. Honest with her, and honest with himself. It was all up to her now.

He didn't quite understand why it made her so angry. He had seen her angry before, and yes, he deserved the anger, but never had he ever seen it to quite this extent. As far as crap he had orchestrated goes, this was barely a blip on the horizon. He had done much, much worse, but yet, this was the angriest he'd seen her.

Perhaps it was because of how they'd fallen closer, he thought. The feelings were magnified as they began to learn to open up. He had been closer to her than he ever had been that morning, not to mention gotten her to open up as much as he'd ever witnessed the night before, and thus, with a lot of superlatives being thrown around, this negative reaction was intensified too.

Her teary eyes etched into his mind. She looked so mad, so red in the face, like she was going to explode. It hit a nerve, because it was something so personal, something she had allowed herself to be vulnerable towards.

And suddenly then, all the pieces finally came together and made sense to him.

He picked up his phone and dialed.

"Hey Cho. I'm going to need a lift, uh, Lisbon's just kinda left me here and isn't answering her phone."

"Ha. That's funny. How the tables turn," Cho mused at him.

"Yeah, yeah, I get the karma is amusing," he replied dismissively.

"What did you do?" Cho asked.

"What makes you think I did anything? She might just be following a different lead."

"Yeah right," Cho said disbelievingly.

"Look, I never abandoned her in spite. It was always so she could keep her plausible deniability, that's all. No maliciousness."

"That I believe. But I don't see Lisbon doing that."

He sighed. "Are you going to pick me up or not?"

"Send me your address"

"Oh, but before you come, maybe stop by Sheriff Cardiff's place or the station, arrest his wife."

"Way to bury the lead. The Sheriff? The wife? Why?"

"Cardiff was Johnson's lover"

"You're kidding."

"All but certain of it. The wife found out, confronted Johnson in a rage, as bigoted as her hypocritical husband. Panicked when poor Cassie stumbled in"

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he licked decisively, "it explains why he got so angry and arrogantly defensive when I claimed Johnson was gay. I'll keep myself occupied until you can get here," he said, clicking the phone call to an end.

He turned back to admire the crocus some more, sincerely hoping that they too, like the flower, could push through their rocky, frostbitten landscape, so that eventually something beautiful could grow. She reacted so strongly, because she felt so strongly, and that could only be a good thing. Getting Lisbon to forgive him was something he was well-versed in doing, although something told him it might not be so easy this time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Another hour or two had passed, he wasn't quite sure. He wasn't the best at keeping time, but managed to appreciate the tranquillity and silence of being alone in a uniquely beautiful Alaskan park. An experience he'd never had before and one he'd make the most of, despite the circumstances. He sat on a bench, soaking in the sunshine and mentally cataloging the distinctive scent of the crocus flowers, the pine, and the melting snow, dancing together to create this memory.

From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a figure in a pantsuit approach and pause a distance away from him. Great, his lift was here, he instinctively thought, but was surprised when he turned to find Lisbon before him.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hi," he weakly replied with a smile, taking in the sight of her and processing his elation that she was actually there.

"You came back," he managed to say, stating the obvious.

"Yeah, well… I couldn't just leave you here," she replied with a dismissive shrug.

"Well, I'm glad you did. Thank you," he said breathily.

"Did you mean what you said?" she asked directly.

"What did I say?" he said with the cheekiest of smiles.

"No games Jane. This is no joking matter," her eyes narrowed on him.

His expression changed as he mustered the most sincere, serious tone he could manage. "Yes, I meant what I said. Every word," he said completely heartfelt.

She closed the distance between them and took him by the hands. "Good," she breathed gently and looked him in the eye. "Because I feel the same way"

"Well that's lucky," he said weakly, all of his energy being diverted to the grin that spread across his whole face at her unexpected words.

"You really think we can make this work?" she apprehensively, squeezing his hands.

"With you. Anything is possible," he reassured.

"Say it again," she said, scrunching up her nose cutely as she smiled coyly.

"Say what again?"

She raised her eyebrows at him as he closed the distance between their faces.

His nose touching hers, "I love you," he whispered tenderly, his lips scraping across hers as he spoke, before kissing her intently, a deep, passionate all-giving embrace.

She had finally done it. Finally let go. Finally let her inner desires and love in her heart dominate what was usually ruled by liberal common sense, fear, and her head. She didn't know what was in store for them, or how this might turn out. All she knew was how she felt when she was with Jane, and no matter what happened, that this feeling would make everything worth it.

That, and it would be far from boring. Because what's worse than being bored, right?

The snow started to fall around them gently, as their kiss emblazoned in a way they'd never felt before. Her arm wrapped around him, the other a gentle hand on his cheek, as he threaded his hand through her hair to deepen their kiss, his other hand, where it belonged and was often found, on the small of her back. They were dazed and luminous in their embrace. He loved her. She felt the same way. And they had the courage to admit it to each other.

And that was all that mattered.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Cho drove towards the coordinates Jane had sent him, a light smattering of snow frolicking across the windscreen as he drove. Everything Jane had hypothesised had turned out, Mrs Cardiff's prints matching those on the murder weapon aka fire extinguisher that caused Cassie's head trauma, and Johnson's blood spatter still evident on a pair of her shoes. The search and arrest, a dramatic one, as you'd expect from a colourful breed of law enforcers, especially Mrs Cardiff's bigoted rants doubling down as a confession. He almost regretted not pulling Lisbon in before they went, but Wylie and Vega proved to be exceptional right beside him. He made a mental note to take Wylie out into the field more.

Across the way, he could make out the outline of Jane, his arms wrapped around a small brunette, someone who looked suspiciously like…

…Lisbon

He smirked, as he squinted at them from the distance of the road. Jane and Lisbon, completely engulfed in each other's arms conjoined at the mouth. Finally.

He rolled his eyes and ever-so-slightly grinned to himself, and with an odd sense of satisfaction, he drove off down the bleak Alaskan highway.