Thanks to Jisbon4ever, Anna, mwalter1, Purple Piggie, phoenixmagic1, tromana, Depresnjak, Kate Castle, Joma, vestnik, ch19777fan and Heather Cornwell for reviewing chapter 4.
He woke up early the next day. The fact that he actually managed to sleep through a night was pretty sensational, but he wasn't in the mood for a celebration. The light of the morning let the room look less like a comfortable shelter than during the night before. The cruel reality caught already up with him, no matter that Lisbon was sleeping peacefully in the crook of his arm. Her lips were slightly open, reminded him of kissing her countless times during the night. Now it seemed that he lost the ability to be as daring. Instead he only gently brushed her hair from her face and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.
He was thirsty and got up to have a glass of water, but first he collected his clothes from the floor. Not only was he shivering, he also wasn't sure how Lisbon would react if she'd find him walking around naked in her apartment. But then again, he wasn't sure either about her reaction to the events of last night.
Himself, Jane felt strangely numb. He sat down on a chair in the bedroom and waited patiently until Lisbon awoke. Briefly he acknowledged that he never expected a morning after sleeping with her to be so trivial. Did he do everything wrong? Was simply something wrong with him? He didn't really want to know.
Lisbon looked beautiful when he watched her getting dressed. Tousled and a little embarrassed, maybe, but her languorous, mystical radiance brightened the cloudy morning.
"I'm starving." She yawned, and suddenly Jane felt uneasy for reasons unclear even to himself.
The apartment, the situation, became too claustrophobic to stay any longer. Superficially seen, Lisbon appeared unimpressed when he told her that he had to run some errands before work. The brief, alarmed flutter of her eyelids when he declined her offer to drive him told him another story though.
"Okay, see you at work." Her tone was cheerful, but he sensed that something had come between them, something strange and dangerous.
At the door he embraced her tightly. Despite the fact that he was the one longing to go away, he had now trouble letting go.
Somewhere halfway between her apartment and his own, his feet already hurting from walking too long in uncomfortable shoes, he realized that sleeping with Lisbon had been a huge mistake. No matter how alive, happy even, being with her had made him feel, it still didn't make it right. Right now, he needed her as a friend and as an ally.
He should have just waited.
Until they solved this latest case and he sorted out his past.
Until they at least talked about those new things she learned about him.
Until he was ready for a relationship.
Instead he wasn't even able to sleep and eat regularly and that he had to be removed from a crime scene in the middle of the night clearly didn't speak in his favor.
He felt tired - an usual condition for him, even though surprising after getting a good night's sleep - but he still went on. The wind sprinkled his face with raindrops. He rejected the absurd idea that Lisbon might understand that last night happened too early. With growing consternation he imagined how different his and Lisbon's relationship would be from now on. No dinners at her place anymore. No teasing. No car pooling. Never again he would be able to regard her simply as his friend. This certain, happy-go-lucky acquaintance, that he fought for so long, carelessly thrown away in one moment of weakness.
In front of the train station he took a cab to bring him home, but once he arrived there, he changed his mind. Time was precious and hiding from the world wouldn't change a thing. He still had a murderer to catch, a task that he recently neglected. From now on, seeing that he already had lost everything else, it would become his main focus just like in the old days before Warren Harper intruded.
Lisbon wasn't at work yet when he arrived there. He suspected that the files she had taken home with her last night were only copies; she wasn't reckless enough to endanger the originals. Indeed he found a stack of paperwork regarding the Louise Tate case in her desk drawer. She would be pissed off if she found him in her office, but he couldn't afford to care about this anymore. He flicked through the pieces of paper.
Crime scene photos already. Impressive, but absolutely unnecessary as he'd never get rid of what he'd seen in that room anyway.
The preliminary autopsy report was due later that day. As if he'd need a pathologist to confirm that a slit throat was deadly.
No obvious fingerprints or traces of DNA.
No evidence of forced entry, no signs of a struggle either. Did Louise know her killer and invited him in? Oh no, wait. According to her daughter, Louise never locked the backdoor.
One suspect - the brother who owed her money - with an airtight alibi.
In other words: There was nothing to work with at all.
Jane angrily threw the file at Lisbon's desk and left her office. One by one the others arrived. Van Pelt smiled at him peculiarly. It didn't surprise him that she was the one who found out about him first; she was always good with research. Apparently the kind soul hadn't told anyone but Lisbon so far as Rigsby and Cho didn't treat him any different. Lisbon arrived last, which was unusual, but considering the circumstances quite understandable.
He was alone on the couch in the bullpen, the others hunting for caffeine in the kitchen, but he was still overwhelmed that she dared to quickly tousle his hair when passing by. Involuntarily he gave a jerk and felt her hand freeze before she walked away. Out of the corners of his eyes he noticed her studying him, but pretended to take a nap. She didn't fall for it.
"We need to talk about his case. About your involvement in it. I don't like to keep the team in the dark, but if you prefer to first talk about it in private, then we can postpone this until tonight."
She acted professionally, but Jane believed to hear a hint of timidity in her voice.
"I don't have time tonight." He said, sitting up. " I already have other plans."
"Jane..."
He refused to look at her. For an instant he thought she would still go on talking, but then the others came back and released him with their cheerful chatter. Lisbon disappeared in her office, returned and thrust the Tate file into his hands. He had already read it - which she probably knew - but since he was glad that she now started to focus on the case instead on him, he spread the pages out on the table and pretended to delve into them. Her patience, the closeness when she leaned over to point out a certain passage, made him edgy.
"What do you think?" She finally asked him.
"I think there's nothing to work with in this file. The case is screwed up, just like the one connected to it. Maybe we should all just move on and pick a case that at least has a chance to get solved someday."
He shoved the documents aside. Some of them landed on the floor, but he didn't care. They were useless, no matter what the accusing looks of the other four people in the room wanted to make him believe. He wondered what Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt thought of his strange behavior. Even though they at most surmised what was going on between Lisbon and him, they definitely must have felt the change of atmosphere.
Lisbon wordlessly collected the pages from the floor. Then, "I'm sorry you feel that way."
Accusatory.
Hurt.
Jane felt helpless. If she would have hurt him, he'd have forgiven her without any hesitation. That she was the one hurt, he simply wasn't able to deal with.
He went for a walk, again, but it did nothing to clear his mind. Neither did the tea that he drank in a small restaurant nor toying with the wedding band he I always carried around in his pocket.
Nobody said a word when he reentered the bullpen. A team meeting was in full swing. He got himself a chair and sat down. For a while he only listened. Their ideas were rather good, actually, even inspired him confidence. He wanted to believe that they would be able to achieve the impossible and catch the bastard that killed his family. And Louise, poor unfortunate Louise who happened to sleep with the wrong man. A cold shiver ran down his spine.
Lisbon.
He would never be able to forgive himself if anything happened to her.
How could he be so incredibly stupid and blind to expose her to such a danger?
"I think it's the same killer. That guy in Orlando didn't do it." Cho expressed his opinion.
"If you're right, then there has to be a connection between the victims." Rigbsy added.
Jane didn't look up, but he was sure that Lisbon and Van Pelt glanced at him. He took a deep breath.
"That connection would be me."
He left it to the two women to enlighten Cho and Rigsby; for now he had said enough. Later, after everyone was on the same page and every little fact of both cases had been discussed, he felt ready to gave them deeper, more personal insight into the first killing.
His colleagues turned out to be an appreciative audience, listening closely and asking questions only when they were necessary. They didn't actually get closer to solving the case that night, but he was surprised how good it felt to share those things with them. Van Pelt gave him a quick hug when they said goodnight, but otherwise any dreaded expressions of pity didn't occur.
"You did well." Lisbon acknowledged, when only the two of them were left, then she walked away as well.
He caught up with her at her car, immediately reminded of the first time he approached her. Lisbon looked surprised. He couldn't blame her; only seconds ago he also didn't expect that he'd seek talks with her tonight.
It was a cold, gray evening with strong wind that toyed with Lisbon's hair. He only now noticed that she wore makeup. Mascara and a hint of lipstick, rosy on her mouth. He was pretty sure that he'd never seen her like this. They experienced a lot of first times together within a day's span.
"Are we okay?" She then asked, and he had no idea what to tell to her.
He still believed that it was a mistake to drag her that deep into his game of cat and mouse with a dangerous killer, but he was also convinced that the only way to make things right was to dedicate his whole being to her protection.
So he didn't say anything and instead watched his own reflection, tiny and blurry and approaching, in her eyes until their lips touched.
TBC...