Thought of the day: Husband has caved and let me put a poster of Simon Baker on the bedroom wall. I feel like a teenager again.

A/N: My process at the moment is that I flesh out a large portion of my draft, then go back and start editing in chapter-size portions. So there will be weeks where I post a bunch of chapters, then probably a lengthy break before I start posting again.

Also thank you all so, so, so much for reading, and for your lovely reviews. Makes me happy :) I'm also making my way through a bunch of your stories. I will try to make my reviews as thoughtful as you guys have, but I keep getting engrossed and moving onto the next chapter so won't be reviewing every single chapter at this stage! Thank you again.

This chapter is a bit light on plot development because I was feeling like writing something cheesy. Jeez my author's notes are real essays huh.


Patrick is insane, I think to myself, looking skeptically at him. He's gone completely insane. How could he possibly think this.

"No," I say stupidly, not able to think of anything constructive.

"Maybe it's a stretch," he replies. "But there are a lot of coincidences. The psychic's name- Lexi. And my father hated Angela. Once he once caught us up by Fort Benton River on the edge of the cliffs. I was meant to be doing a private reading with him, it was the third one I'd skipped in a week. I swear he almost pushed us over the edge he was so angry. That was the day we ran away."

"I'm sorry, Patrick. I'm sorry he was like that. But is- was he really a killer?"

He swings his legs over the side of the bed and starts to get dressed. 4:13am. Not the time for getting dressed, not for normal people anyway.

"He was a lot of things," he says, sitting on the bed as he laces his shoes. "He could be cruel, vindictive. Too smart for his own good."

He turns and considers me. His forehead is creased and I can see words struggling to escape his lips, I can see him fighting himself, forcing himself to tell me something. I grab his hand and squeeze it tight and he lets out a rush of air.

"The apple didn't fall too far from the tree," he says, casting his eyes downwards.

I almost throw myself onto him, horrified. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face into his morning stubble murmuring, "no, no, no."

He strokes my back. "It's okay, Teresa. I know I'm not completely the same as him. He was a very violent man when he wanted to be. He picked fights with people, pulled his gun on clients that wouldn't pay up, all sorts of things. You know how much of a coward I am when it comes to physical confrontation. But part of him is in me, and that is something I have to live with."

I am nearly in tears. I can't bear to hear him speak about himself like this but I don't know how to reassure him so I just kiss his neck, his face, over and over again.

He gently pushes me back from him and smiles at me. "You should go back to sleep, Teresa. I know how grouchy you get when you're tired."

"And you?"

"I'm much better at controlling my grouchiness, I think I'll be fine."

He fluffs a pillow for me and lays me back down. He kisses me on the forehead and smooths my hair back like I am a small child. "I love you. And I'll be okay. I'm just going to go outside and enjoy the morning, I'll be back in a few hours. And hey, can we keep this between us for now? The stuff about my father? Just until we know a bit more."

"Okay," I reply.

I watch him swing his jacket over his shoulders as he leaves the room, then close my eyes and force myself back to sleep.


We drive to work in the Airstream. Patrick drives as if he's racing the rattly old thing against time itself, yet I manage to stop myself from nagging him to slow down.
"It doesn't fit in the parking building," he says to me, pulling over by a cafe. "Let's grab some tea and walk the rest of the way in. Lovely day."

I am in a much better mood after my second round of sleep, so I even let him convince me to have some tea instead of my usual coffee.
"You won't regret it, Lisbon. Best tea in the neighborhood." He winks at the barista and I prickle with jealousy. These last few days I have realized that I have the emotional maturity of a sixteen year old when it comes to Jane, and the worst part is that I'm sure he knows it.

He grins at me as we near headquarters. "We should do this every day."

"Oh yes, and what if it rains?"

"Nothing wrong with a bit of rain. Do you know that the New Zealand Maori people believed that you could make it rain by touching certain sacred objects- rocks, trees, all sorts of things."

He bends down and picks up a small stone, then frowns and tosses it away. "Not that one. Not sacred enough."

He turns to me and lifts me off the ground. "Maybe this one will work."

"Put me down, Patrick," I laugh, struggling in his arms. "I'm not a toy!"

He puts me down and grins at me, one eyebrow raised. "Oh I disagree. You're my favorite toy, actually. Very bendy."


Even with the added walking time, we are much earlier than the rest of the team. I find that I like the office when it's quiet, when it's just me and Patrick.

As soon as I sit down at my desk, I remember the photo of Angela. I bring it out and swing my chair around to face Jane's couch. "You should have this back."

He shakes his head. "No, put it in the file. So that anyone who reads it can see the similarities. Otherwise I'm just going to sound like a crazy person."

I hold it out in front of me still, staring at him, trying to find the right words. I sit beside him and try to place the photo on his knee, but he just hands it back to me.

"I don't feel right, putting it in a folder. You really should have it back," I say.

He cocks his head at me, thoughtful. Perhaps trying to read if this snapshot of his past has upset me. "I have another one," he says finally, pulling a small polaroid from his wallet. "I'll keep this one."

It is a photo of all three of them- Patrick with a goofy grin on his face, his small daughter in his arms, and Angela smiling up into his eyes. My breath catches in my throat. Will he ever be that happy again?

"You never framed any of these?" I ask. "Displayed them anywhere?"

He shakes his head. "I wanted to keep them just for me. It didn't seem right having everyone look at them, being reminded what happened to me every time they walked past. Now... it's different now. But I wouldn't want to... wouldn't it be weird for you? Sitting here on my couch looking at a picture of my wife?"

I shake my head, a little too vigorously. "No, not at all. It's okay that you still miss her, still love her."

He smiles. "I know. I'm trying to be sensitive to you though, don't fight it, Lisbon."

"Ha. Sensitive. You?"

He feigns hurt but I am suspicious that he is also legitimately hurt under all the acting, so I kiss him on the cheek and say, "sorry. You're the very picture of sensitivity. Really."

"Well, put that one in the file. Please. I'm not as attached to it as you may think. I like to remember Angela as the woman in this polaroid. That's who she really was. A mother, a wife- she stopped being that carny girl the day we ran away."

He smiles at me, and he seems genuine, so I do as he says and place the file back in the drawer.


Jane tells Fischer that he has a list of people that might be involved, and that he'd like to go visit his friends Sam and Pete at the circus next time they are nearby. Fischer insists that he immediately find out where they are, and says that she will book flights.

"I'll come with you," she adds. "Someone has to bring the muscle."

Jane smiles and shakes his head dismissively. "Oh, they're harmless. I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Well, I'm coming all the same," she replies.

I feel the now-familiar twinge in my stomach and frown at my screen, pretending not to be listening in.

"Very well, if you insist," Jane says.

Fischer walks away to find Abbot, and Jane comes up behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders. "Don't worry, I'll ditch her in the horror maze."

"I'm not worried," I say, pouting.

He starts to walk towards the break room, but then I remember our earlier conversation and get an idea. "Hey, can I borrow some cash? I'm going to get a muffin."

He throws me his wallet. "Not like you to be short of money, Lisbon. But go ahead. Bring me back something nice."

As he walks away a small smile grows on my face. Did I just con Patrick Jane? I hurry to the elevator, clutching his wallet in my hand.


Jane leaves the office just after lunch to see if he can find out anything about where the circus is. I put the result of my morning plotting on his table, then notice Rigsby looking over, and pick it back up. I'll have to wait until later, I'm not ready to answer any questions about this relationship yet.

By mid afternoon I am getting restless, and starting to question myself. I call Jane on his cell.

"Lisbon? What's up?"

"When are you coming back?" I ask. I swear at myself, I have never been good at hiding the impatience in my voice.

"Why, can you not bear to be apart from me? That's sweet."

"Shut up, I was just wondering."

He laughs at the other end. "I'll be back to pick you up, don't worry I wouldn't leave you stranded there. Meet me outside at five."


I stand outside scuffing my feet on the concrete. The Airstream pulls up outside security and he beeps the horn at me. Shit, how am I going to do this.

I beckon him over and he leaps from the driver's door and comes to meet me.

"What's up? Are you coming or not?"

"I forgot something. I have to go back up," I say.

He looks at me with a suspicious frown, but shrugs. "Okay, I'll wait here."
"Come up with me, we can have a cup of tea before we go home."

The lines on his forehead deepen, but he follows me back into the building, glancing over at me every now and then.

In the elevator, he turns to me. "We leave tomorrow, to visit Pete and Sam. Back on Thursday," he says. "I'll miss you."

"It's two days, Jane. I'm sure you'll be fine."

He frowns at me again. "Well, okay Miss Independent. But I'll miss you all the same."

We walk back into the bullpen and my heart starts to race as we near his couch. Maybe I shouldn't have done it, maybe he won't like it.

"What's that?" He asks, picking up the framed photo that I placed on the table moments earlier. He stares down at it and my heart is in my throat. When he looks up at me his eyelashes are wet.

"You did this?"

I nod. The hammering in my chest gets louder.

"You tricked me," he says, a disbelieving smile appearing on his face. "This is... Teresa... this is-"

He puts the frame down and pulls me into a hug.

"Thank you," he says. "It means a lot."

The pounding inside of me stills, and I start to feel like I am made of liquid. It seems I am capable of surprising him after all.

"Well, seeing as you've upped your game, I better up mine too," he says to me.

"Oh yes?"

"Yes. A real date. Tonight. We'll leave the house and everything. I'll take you home to get changed first."

I grin at him. "Dress code?"

"Casual. Very casual. I like a challenge, but I have a feeling I won't be in the mood for a struggle with any buttons or zips."

He looks down at the picture on his table once more, then smiles down at me.

"It will be nice, having them here, watching me nap," he says.

I laugh. "Okay come on. I need to get changed, remember."

He holds my hand as we exit the building. I'm starting to feel like this is real, a real relationship. With Patrick Jane. How odd.

He opens the passenger door of the Airstream for me and waits before I am fully inside before making his way to his side.

As he starts the engine, I turn to him. "I don't think it would be appropriate for you to wear something with buttons if I'm not allowed."

"Oh really?" he says, raising his eyebrows.

"Really. It's a bit hypocritical."

He chuckles. "Okay, okay. So demanding."


I pick out a simple black dress. Loose fitting. Very easy to take off. I shake my hair loose and go outside to find Patrick. He has taken the Airstream somewhere and isn't back yet, so I sit on the step and breathe in the evening air. It's not so bad, appreciating the world like this. Jane has been a good influence on me in that respect.

The Airstream tears around the corner moments later, I stand and when he doesn't open the door for me, I knock.

"Just a second," he calls from inside. I hear him shuffling about, and then his footsteps as he comes to the door. When he opens it I nearly gasp. He is wearing denim shorts and a white t-shirt. He looks younger. And sexy. Very sexy. I stand there agape for much too long and he laughs and pulls me inside.

"You like? I asked Rigsby for something casual and he gave me these. His exact words were 'keep them, Grace says I'm too old for shorts'."

I nod dumbly. "Yes, I like."

"Good. Now do you want to guess where we're going?"

"No, tell me."
"You have to guess! Come on. You're a detective."

I look at him. Where would he take a date? Not a restaurant, not for our first proper date, he's much too proud of his unpredictability for that. So that rules out the cinema too.

"Nature? Something with nature? The beach? A picnic?"

"Not even close," he chuckles triumphantly. "But I'll give you a clue. You're probably going to be a bit angry with me at first."
"We're breaking into somewhere," I reply immediately. "Please tell me we're not doing anything illegal."

"Well, illegality is very subjective," he tells me with a wink.

"No it's not, Jane. The law is very clear about breaking and entering."

He just laughs again, and soon he pulls up outside a small shopping mall.

"Oh God, we're not breaking into here are we?"

"Not exactly. I know a guy who knows a guy. I've got a keycard and everything, no breaking in required."

I sigh. But I decide to 'live a little' as he always tells me to. Maybe I'm a bit uptight, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to relax my morals for one night.

"As long as we aren't going to end up in jail, then fine. Let's do it."

I am pleased to see that he is surprised by this, he obviously expected more of a fight.

He grabs my hand and leads me around to the staff entry. The lock beeps as he holds the keycard against it, and he pushes the door open for me.

"Marla left us a picnic on the roof terrace upstairs," he says.

"And who's Marla?"

"The girl that left us food on the roof terrace. I just said that."

I shake my head with a smile. "Okay, well how do we get up there then."

"We have to do something very important first," he says. He leads me to the small cinema near the door we have come in, and points at a photo booth. I shrug and follow him, quite enjoying giving up my need for control for once. He inspects the cord coming from the booth, and traces it around until he finds the power socket, then plugs it in.

"Hop in," he says, pushing me through the red curtain.

He takes a bunch of pictures, at first I am stiff and look a little like I've been kidnapped, but I start to loosen up and the last few pictures make us look like any normal couple in love. He prints them out and carefully rips one off the bottom, passing the rest to me.

He pulls out his wallet, gives me a small smile, and slides the picture in beside the one of his family.

"I need to look at your face just as much as I need to look at theirs," he says to me. I kiss him, words failing me again. A common occurrence these days it seems.


After we have eaten, we lie back on the ground and look at the stars. Jane knows stories about every single constellation and I try to remember everything he tells me. Probably about time I built my own memory palace.

I look over at him in his plain t-shirt and his shorts. I like this version of him. I'm finding that I like most things about him, even the things that I thought I hated.

"Your turn to guess," I say to him.

"Okay, what am I guessing?"

"Guess what I'm wearing under my dress."

He sits up suddenly and runs his eyes over my body. "I don't want to guess, I like it when you surprise me."

"Oh go on, if you figure it out I'll give you a prize."

I sit up too, and let him continue eyeing me, feeling a bit more daring than I'm used to.

"Uh," he says, then clears his throat. "Uhh, red?"

I laugh. "Red what?"

He shakes his head as if to snap himself back into the moment. "Red underwear?"

"Close enough," I say. "Now you can have your prize."

I lift my dress over my head and enjoy the dumbfounded expression on his face. I had never imagined that I had any power over him, let alone the ability to render him speechless.

"That's a good prize," he says hoarsely. "I mean, I was hoping for money, but this is good too."


I sit facing him. We have finally managed to put our clothes back on, and keep them on. The first attempt had been thwarted by my fast-growing attraction to Jane in casualwear.

His hands encase mine and he kisses them. "How do you feel?"

"Good," I reply.

I look into his eyes. I have spent years ordering this man around, pretending to be annoyed with his compliments, playing the boss. But now, looking at him under the night sky, I find that I am nervous, shy even. I realize that I have been confused by my own thoughts, and it dawns on me that he has been exercising a great amount of patience. I'm scared, I think, finally admitting it to myself. Patrick Jane may call himself a coward, but he is the one who has been revealing himself to me, while I haven't even been able to say the words that I need to say.

"Jane?" I say, wincing a bit as the blood rushes to my face. Get a grip, Teresa.

"Yes, Lisbon?"

"I'm sorry that I haven't- I'm sorry that-" the words are in my throat. What's wrong with me.

"What is it?"

"I love you," I finally choke out.

"You're sorry that you love me?" he asks, chuckling. I frown a little, and he sobers. "I know you do. Thank you for saying it though. You know how I like to be adored."

He pulls my face up to his and kisses me deeply. Then he inspects me, his fingers tracing my lips. He starts to say something but thinks better of it, and I don't push him. It's my turn to learn how to act like a real human now.

"I'm not scared," I say. "Well, I'm trying not to be."

He shakes his head slightly. "It's okay, Teresa. I have years of being a spineless fool to make up for. Take your time."

"It's not you. It's me. I'm just-"

"You're just stealing bad lines from movies? Seriously, it's okay."

I stop myself from blurting out anything else ridiculous. I sigh, and lean into him.

"You can tell me you love me again though. That would be nice," he murmurs. I look up at him and touch the small smile playing on his mouth with my fingertips. I don't need to be scared, I'm sure of it. I just need my deep-set inhibitions to catch up with the rest of me.

"I love you, Patrick," I say, and this time the words come easily.