Disclaimer: I own nothing related to The Mentalist. Lyrics and title are from the Feist song "Past in Present" from the album, The Reminder

A/N: So turns out there'll need to be a third and final chapter in order to give Jane and Lisbon the time and space to converse properly. This whole story is based on an interview I read with Bruno Heller in which he commented on the upcoming season and what Jane would be like if indeed Red John is dead; From Jane's point of view, he doesn't want to play games any more. [He wants] to pull back a bit from that kind of obsessive chase, because it's the obsessive chase that has gotten him into problems in the first place. Couldn't agree more, but then I've always thought dark and intricate usually equals overwrought and cheesey.

Conversion Chapter 2: Past in Present

Revenge... is like a rolling stone, which, when a man hath forced up a hill, will return upon him with a greater violence, and break those bones whose sinews gave it motion.

-Albert Schweitzer

Feeling it from dark to bright
When a wrong becomes a right
When a mountain fills with light
It's a volcano, it's a volcano
It's a volcano, it's a volcano

So much present, inside my present
Inside my present
So, so much past

-Leslie Fiest, Past in Present

Teresa Lisbon bit her lip and considered her options. The sandy riverside was teeming with people intent on spending a nice day at the closest thing to a beach that Sacramento had to offer. Lisbon looked left, then right and tried to determine where best to lay her towel out.

Ordinarily she'd just plop down on the nearest spot of free sand, but today was no ordinary day. Today Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon, control freak extraordinaire was going to willingly do something outside of her comfort zone on purpose. Well, semi-willingly at least. There was more than a little hesitation in her movements as she weaved between blankets and beach umbrellas to find a place to squat.

Lisbon picked her way through sun worshippers and children making sand castles until she had to face the fact that soon she would run out of sand if she didn't just have it over with and perch somewhere. She stopped and considered turning around, maybe she'd backtrack a little and sit down, but no she couldn't. It might draw attention, and she didn't want that.

It's going to be the same no matter where you sit, she thought and moved forward a few feet. Right now, if she sat down she'd be positioned between a gaggle of middle aged mother's on a sunny day outing with their offspring, and a mixed gender group of teenagers. Lisbon edged as close as she could to the mothers and settled next to a small sand dune that she prayed would shield her from the teens. There was no way she wanted sixteen year old boys leering at her, and she didn't want to be forced to witness the youthful perfection of their female friends. Her mind was already screaming at her that she was too old for this shit, or more specifically too old to be lying on a beach in a string bikini.

Lisbon sighed and dropped her beach tote, and then she spent an inordinate amount of time arranging and rearranging her towel on the sand. Finally she sat down and tried to act natural. She'd worn a tank top and shorts just in case her courage failed her and she didn't want to look like some overdressed weirdo on the beach. All she had to do was slip off her clothes nonchalantly. The tanning lotion Van Pelt had recommended was already glistening on her skin. It had been applied hastily before she left the house, because no way she was lying out-semi-naked- and rubbing lotion all over her body in public. She was committed to her goal, but only willing to push herself so far.

It had been a stormy evening back in February when Lisbon had formulated this particular goal. Rain had beaten down on the city for days, and Jane's trial had reached the one month mark. She'd come home from court exhausted and feeling at loose ends.

The trial had gotten underway as soon as the courts were back in session after Christmas holidays. What a way to ring in the New Year. Jane had spent the eight months preceding his trial in jail. Lisbon and Bertram had pulled some strings to ensure he was held in a minimum security facility and away from the other prisoners. The judge had been hesitant to grant the former request, he felt a murder warranted a maximum security stay, but he'd easily conceded to the latter. Jane had put away too many criminals, first time offenders and long term professionals. It wouldn't be safe for him to walk amongst his peers in jail.

Jail didn't look good on Jane. For the first time since she'd met him Lisbon had been forced to reckon with a new side of her long time colleague. Since the arrest he'd become quieter, somewhat docile and she could tell once the legal proceedings got underway that Jane was actually scared. The prosecution had come hard and prepared to put him away for committing vigilante justice. When the DA had told Cho, months earlier that they'd screwed any chance they had for mercy, by investigating his possible links to Red John he'd not been kidding. Oscar Ardiles had an axe to grind with the CBI and he planned to take his anger out on Patrick Jane. There'd been no way for Jane's attorney to argue conflict of interest on the part of the DA's office without acknowledging misconduct on the part of Lisbon's team for their involvement in the consultant's less than kosher sheltering of Madeline Hightower when she'd been a fugitive.

Ardiles' opening arguments had been passionate, full of hellfire and worst of all, convincing. The state had the added benefit of always getting to field the opening kick off. Jane's defense attorney was more than competent and the best money could buy, but he wasn't as personally invested in Jane's redemption as Ardiles was in the consultant's damnation.

Lisbon had left the courtroom that February day with serious misgivings about Jane's future. The worst part of it all was she could tell, just by looking at him, that Jane himself was beginning to entertain the idea that he may very well spend the rest of his life behind bars, and that thought clearly unnerved him. Insecure Jane was not a Jane Lisbon had ever expected to deal with. It was okay for her and the team to panic over Jane's chances, but it was okay only because they assumed he'd be sitting there, cool as a cucumber and prepared to talk his way out lifetime imprisonment. Instead, Jane had sat silently through the opening arguments, only speaking when addressed by the judge, and his tone was always deferential.

It was hard to believe that this Jane was the same man who had once cheekily represented himself in court. Sure, he'd lost the case and gotten a $16,000 fine, but he hadn't technically been wrong, he'd just been arrogant and the judge used that as an excuse. Had Jane challenged the fine with a real lawyer, if he'd cared enough to do so, he could have won. But that Jane, Old Jane, as Lisbon thought of him now, couldn't have been bothered. The money wasn't an issue and he was satisfied with knowing he'd been on the right side of the law. New Jane lacked this irreverent confidence.

His meek behavior was completely appropriate for a man facing a first degree murder charge, but it was entirely inappropriate for Jane. If he didn't foresee an easy way out from under a life sentence, then Lisbon certainly couldn't fathom how it would all end well.

Ardiles' impressive and systematic attacks, coupled with Jane's obvious distress made the whole trial nearly unbearable for Lisbon, but she had to be there, both to testify and to support her friend. So, she was there every morning as soon as the court room doors opened, with Van Pelt in tow. The younger agent would sit silently beside Lisbon, grip her boss's hand and pray softly for things to go in Jane's favor.

Lisbon had come home that night, at the one month mark, with the weight of the world on her shoulders. The weather was shit, Jane's chances were shit and she had no idea how to continue going forward without resorting to blind faith. She had to simply believe, whether it was a rational belief or not, that Jane would not wind up behind bars for the rest of his natural life. Luckily, Van Pelt made sustaining this false sense of security fairly easy. Grace couldn't be convinced no matter how bad things got that Jane would not be shown mercy by the eleven men and women of the jury. But, she was also emotionally fragile and subject to erratic mood swings. This allowed Lisbon to fuss over her subordinate, and that provided a much needed distraction.

Lisbon hated dwelling on her own fears or feelings and Grace's meltdowns meant she didn't have to.

Despite this there were days when it all got to be too much, and that blustery winter's night had been one of the hard times. Lisbon had fallen into her condo, mail in hand, unable to contemplate accomplishing anything but lying on her couch and getting drunk. Getting plastered meant she'd have to make it as far as the fridge, so she laid down the mail and headed for the kitchen.

When she returned with a cold beer something amongst the various bills and flyers scattered on the couch caught her eye. It was a glossy catalogue; its cover was bright and full of tropical scenes, not to mention bikini clad women who looked like extras from The Real Housewives of Orange County. Lisbon rolled her eyes. It seemed she was still getting mail addressed to the condo's former tenant, Ms. Valerie Wagner.

Lisbon had kept the art work Valerie had left behind up on the walls, but their shared taste went no further. The little bits of post that still dribbled in addressed to Valerie told the agent that the former occupant of her home was most definitely a girly girl. Valerie received catalogues from Victoria's Secret, Sephora, JCrew and now some store that obviously dealt in skanky beach and day chose to ignore the catalogue and switched on the TV.

Concentrating on the screen proved to be difficult however, and after three more beers Lisbon found her eyes shifting towards the bikini models again and again. The cover scene just looked so welcoming. Who wouldn't want to be in on a beach somewhere hot in the dead of winter? Sure, California winters weren't brutal like Chicago winters, but they still grated on the soul just like the snowy ones, especially when someone you cared about was on trial for murder.

She'd taken another swig of beer and reached for the magazine. It wasn't like Valerie was ever coming back for it. Besides, if nothing else she could definitely play a rousing game of, "Are they real or are they fake?" while browsing through the publication.

Lisbon flipped it open and almost spit out her beer. Was the company a Play Boy subsidiary or a bathing suit retailer? The model was contorted into a pose that could only be described as tits out-ass up, and she was making that face common to all her ilk that is supposed to convey sexiness, but mostly comes off as, "I have to pooh". The blonde bombshell on the page was wearing little more than a skimpy leopard print bikini, and acrylic nails.

"Fake!" Lisbon cried and downed some more ale.

She quickly scanned a few more pages."Fake, fake, fake, fake, fake…real…fucking Miranda Kerr…havin' babies with movie stars and never getting fat. Look at me I'm Australian and my boobs are real!"

Lisbon was about to toss the magazine down in disgust, when she spotted it, just there, in upper left hand corner. Ms. Kerr-Bloom had almost caused her to miss it. It was an emerald green bikini covered in sequins of the same color. The customer, if so inclined could purchase the same suit in deep purple or silver, but Lisbon had eyes only for the green sparkles.

The suit made her think of Jane. He always said she should wear more green. Thinking about Jane led to thinking about how different he was these days. He'd lost his drive for revenge, even questioned, and perhaps regretted, his decision to shoot Red John. Lisbon had never thought she'd see the day when Patrick Jane would deign to be humbled by his own misdeeds. She'd spent years trying to convince him revenge was not the answer, and had proclaimed loudly to him, and anyone who would listen that he would change his mind in the end.

But, he didn't change his mind, and really, deep down she'd never expected him to. She's simply hoped to be there with him when the moment came to act as the voice of reason, to talk him down.

That too didn't come to pass, and now Jane was changing, slowly, right in front of her and she could watch his transformation everyday in the courtroom as he sat somberly next to his attorney. At every jailhouse visitation it was a chastened man, wearing an orange jump suit who greeted her from across the partition glass, phone receiver in hand. The man in the garish jumper looked like Jane, but he didn't act like him.

She wondered briefly what kind of reaction she'd get from this New Jane if she showed up to her next visit in the sparkly, green bikini. Of course she'd never do such a thing, but the glittery fabric had hijacked her imagination and it caused a radical notion to germinate inside her head. Lisbon decided she was going to buy that God damn bikini, but the catch was she wouldn't open the package, wouldn't even wear it unless Jane walked away from the courtroom a free man.

If Jane got acquitted, or hell, even probation, community service, a commuted sentence, anything but hard time, she'd be so relieved, and she, Teresa Lisbon would actually take her two week vacation once summer rolled around. She wouldn't leave Sacramento. Something told her that even if he was set free Jane would need her, need the team, and if he didn't, if he made good on her fear that he'd leave the CBI post Red John, well, he'd have to do it on her watch. Lisbon wasn't going to give him the opportunity to slink off without so much as a good-bye while she lay on a beach in Cabo San Lucas.

But, she would wear the bikini, just not actually in front of Jane, or anyone she knew at all, if she could help it.

Jane was changing, adapting to fit whatever future the jury would dole out to him, and he wasn't the only one. Grace had recommitted herself to her faith with gusto and was attending weekly support meetings in the church basement. Lisbon felt it was high time she adjusted to life after Red John as well. Whatever Jane decided to do if he was set free, was out of her control, and she needed to focus on herself.

Step one, purchase ludicrous swimsuit, step two, immediately put in for two weeks summer vacation at work the next day, step three, follow through and actually take the vacation and wear the outrageous bikini.

In the end it wasn't about the swimsuit, it was about what the bikini represented; she, Teresa Lisbon would do something different, something outside her norm. Mostly she wanted to make a small, long term plan that didn't involve work, Jane or the pursuit of Red John. It was becoming clear that Jane, and everyone else on the team was starting to view their current existence as "the time after Red John", and Lisbon didn't want to be the only one stagnating. Besides, she'd spent the last eight years, eight years, letting her life revolve around the hunt for a serial killer. She didn't regret it, well not all of it, but now that Jane's raison d'être was no more, it was becoming abundantly clear to her how small she'd allowed her own world to shrink in the past decade.

It wasn't like she was getting any younger. Thirty-nine was looming large, and then forty. Lisbon wasn't sure just what she wanted more, or less, of in her life. The white picket fence with 2.5 kids didn't hold much appeal to her, but she also wasn't ready to rule anything out, if for no other reason then she'd never made the time to figure out what kind of life she wanted beyond the office. It was time to start making those decisions.

"Done and done!" Lisbon said to her empty living room. Then she rifled through her wallet for her credit card and did the one thing a girl should never do, she shopped under the influence.

Four months later, on May 23rd -a day before closing arguments were to begin- the jury deliberating Jane's case requested an audience with the judge. His Honor Cheb Collingwood obliged them and spent the next two hours sequestered with eleven firm, but fair individuals. It became apparent to Collingwood that the jury would not be able to reach a verdict easily. They seemed to be in agreement that there was no reasonable doubt present in this case. Patrick Jane had killed a man, and that man just happened to be a serial killer. The problem was the jury wasn't sure just how upset they were over the loss, and they certainly didn't feel bad enough to give Jane a life sentence, but there didn't seem to be any other options open to them save for guilty or not.

The judge explained to them that it was not supposed to matter what the victim had been in life, the point was murder-if not committed in self-defense, an act of passion or by a person with diminished capacity-is murder and must be prosecuted as such. Of course, as a former trial lawyer Collingwood knew better then to expect such straight forward instructions to be followed by members of the public at large. Ultimately the jury would weigh the evidence with scales tainted by their own morals and biases, and the system would continue to lurch, imperfectly, but necessarily, along.

Collingwood left the meeting with a plan he hoped would appease the prosecution and the defense. He called Adiles into his chambers and suggested a compromise. "Mr. Jane pleads guilty to manslaughter and I sentence him to time served and probation. He gets a record, you get a conviction and it means he'll never be able to work in law enforcement again."

Adiles had been livid. "With all due respect your honor, no deal. There's no question he did it. He can't argue diminished capacity and this wasn't a crime of passion. I don't care how much he cried while he pulled that trigger! Patrick Jane planned the set up and murder of Red John, doesn't matter if it didn't go down exactly as he planned."

"Ah, ah, ah, Oscar," the judge countered. "There in lies the subtlety of the law. Yes, I have no doubt Mr. Jane spent the better part of the last ten years plotting his revenge against Red John. The problem is he quite clearly, from the testimony of Gale Bertram, did not expect to shoot the man that day in a shopping mall."

"No, he intended to shoot Bertram if he had been Red John! It amounts to the same thing!"

"To you and me it amounts to the same thing, but not to eleven people without even a hint of a legal education. I'm telling you that a deal may be the only way you get even a taste of what you want Oscar. Don't let pride erode your judgment."

Adiles paced the chambers restlessly. "No, no Cheb, I know you think that a plea will make things better, but we'd be catering to emotion, not the law. I'll explain it to the jury in my closing arguments. I'll make them see that you can sympathize with Patrick Jane all you like, but you can't set him free."

Collingwood crossed his arms. "If I thought you were turning the plea down because you were simply worried about upholding the sanctity of the law Oscar I'd agree. But, meeting the jury's emotional response to this case with your own is a recipe for disaster. If you don't think Patrick Jane could walk off scot free despite the evidence you've clearly forgotten that O.J. Simpson is a free man. Don't use this case to settle a personal score, because it'll backfire in your face."

Adiles disregarded the judge's argument, and it turned out truer words had never been spoken. When faced with the prospect of being allowed only to convict or acquit Jane of murder one, the jury just didn't have the guts. Two days later when Collingwood asked the forewoman to deliver the jury's verdict she said the words no prosecutor wants to hear, "not guilty".

Lisbon's world had stopped spinning for a few seconds after the verdict had been read out. Then it became a blur of hugs from Grace and the rest of the team. She could remember clinging to Jane after he finished shaking hands with his lawyer, but the embrace was over as quickly as it had begun. Then Jane was being hustled back to the holding cell were he'd spend one last night in jail while his paperwork was processed.

Later, after the celebratory drinks and pizza with Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt, Lisbon had gone home and torn the packaging off the green bikini. She did a few self-satisfying turns in the mirror before changing into her pajamas and collapsing into bed. Her last thoughts before drifting off were of Jane, and she made a mental note to meet him bright and early the next day outside the courthouse with one of his own suits and nice bottle of scotch.

Back on the beach Lisbon remembered the smile Jane had given her after changing into his own clothes, and then she pulled off her tank top and shorts before stretching out in the sun.

Down in the center of the city Cho and Rigsby were standing in a long line up. Marie's was beyond busy, the hot weather having encouraged people to get out and mingle.

Rigsby watched a group of scantily clad co-eds order iced coffees and began to feel a little more amiable towards the oppressive heat.

"Hey," Cho's one syllable prompt drew Rigsby's attention reluctantly away from the four girls who were now pressing the cold beverages to various parts of themselves.

"Yeah?" Rigsby answered; one eye still on the girls.

"I wanted to tell you...I mean I'm thinking of..." Cho fumbled to begin, and then he noticed Rigsby's distracted state. "Hey! I'm trying to tell you something important here!"

Now he had Rigbsy's total attention. Cho sounded confessional, and Cho never sounded confessional. Even four frat girls in tiny outfits couldn't compare to an opening up on the part of his most stoic of friends.

"What's up?" Rigsby asked. "I'm here-totally present-I swear."

"No forget it," Cho said and turned back to line up.

"What? No way dude, you can't tease me like that."

"What do you care?" Cho's question actually sounded peevish. Cho sounded peevish, maybe even upset.

"I care because you're my friend," Wayne said honestly. "And you can deny that all you want and call me your colleague, or tell me you don't want to discuss my feelings when I've got something important to share, but I know the difference. You wouldn't be getting huffy like a teenage girl if you didn't have something major on your mind you want to unload so have at it."

Cho looked up to see how many people were still ahead of them in line and gauged how much time he had to say what he needed to say. He and Rigsby were still four bodies back from the service counter. That had to be time enough.

"I'm going to ask Elise to marry me," Cho stated.

"What?" Rigsby cried.

"Don't make a scene."

"I'm not making a scene. I'm surprised, but happy. Congratulations man, that's great! Do you have a ring yet?"

Cho reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a box. "Got it right here."

"Why the hell are you carrying that around? You could lose it at a crime scene or drop it anywhere."

Cho looked at the tiny, velvet box and let out a sigh. "I take it everywhere because I'm waiting for the right moment to ask her. So, I carry it on me just in case. I just…the thing is…the right moment hasn't happened. I don't know what to do. I've been carrying three months salary around in my suit jacket for six weeks now."

Rigsby blinked a few times. "Are you telling me you don't know how this whole proposal thing works?"

Cho made a face. "What do you mean how it works? You get down on one knee and you ask. I'm just waiting for the right time and place."

Rigsby was about to interject, but the woman behind the counter pre-empted him. "Can I take your order please?"

Apparently the line up had progressed without their knowledge. Cho quickly and efficiently placed their order and handed Rigsby a box of donuts.

"Don't eat them all before we get back to the office," Cho mumbled, before walking away to collect their coffees.

"Oh no you don't," Rigsby said and followed him to the coffee station. "Don't try to sweep this under the rug. We're not going back to office yet. Sit down."

"We told Van Pelt we'd be back," Cho said.

"She'll live," Rigsby retorted. "Plus, they've got air conditioning here. Now sit."

"Fine."

Rigsby led Cho to a secluded table by the window and sat the donuts on it. Then he pulled up a chair and indicated for Cho to do the same.

"First of all, you don't wait for the perfect moment to propose," Rigsby said. "You have to sort of create the moment. You know, take Elise out to dinner or go for a long walk somewhere nice and without crowds. If you guys have a place that's special to you go there."

Cho's nostrils flared. "I hate that crap. The whole putting the ring in her dessert -or hiding it in a small box inside bigger boxes-that's lame."

"No, it's romantic. I know those two words mean the same thing to you, but this isn't about you it's about Elise."

"Alright, alright, the thing is, I'm not good at romantic overtures. I never was. I want her to be surprised, but she'll see right through me."

Wayne considered this for a moment. Cho wasn't wrong. If Elise came home to her boyfriend cooking a fancy dinner with rose petals strewn everywhere she'd know something was up, but she'd most likely suspect Cho had fallen victim to a body snatching alien. Abduction by extraterrestrials was more probable than a romantic proposal from Cho.

"Well, how about we get you some help?" Rigsby suggested. "I know he annoys you from time to time, but Jane is pretty smooth-

"No!" Cho cried. "I don't want Jane involved. By the end of it there'd be fire works, doves being released from cages and Elise would have to answer three questions from a magical troll to get her ring."

"A magical troll?"

"You know what I mean."

"Are you sure the problem isn't that you just don't want to ask for Jane's help because it would entail asking for Jane's help?"

"There's that too."

Rigsby popped open the donut box and selected a Boston cream. "Well," he said through a mouthful of custard, "then let's ask Grace."

Cho gave him a blank stare. Rigsby had come to learn that all of Cho's stares, while similar in appearance meant something different. This one was challenging Wayne to find the stupid in his previous statement.

"What?" Rigsby asked.

"You think I didn't consider Van Pelt and then reconsider five seconds later? Think about what she's been through this year. Engagements might be a touchy subject right now."

"Oh yeah, but you know what? It's Grace. She'll just be happy for you."

"She will," Cho said. "But that doesn't mean I should be insensitive just because she's a great person who will suck it up and help out anyway."

Rigsby nodded his agreement. "Well, then if you're not going to listen to me, you've only got one option."

"Jane."

"Yup."

"I know. I just hate the thought of being beholden to his ego for anything," Cho conceded.

Rigsby polished off his donut before making his next argument. "I get that, but Jane's changed since he went to jail. I mean he's still Jane, but different."

"Yeah, I've noticed," Cho said. "Despite his reaction to Tracey today, he's mellowed. He's still an asshole sometimes, but he's not such an overall, all round dick anymore."

"Come on, he was never that bad," Rigsby argued.

"Sure he was. You're just easier prey for his bullshit carney tricks than I am."

Rigsby played with his coffee cup. "You think?"

"I know," Cho replied.

"Then how can we be sure he's different now?"

Cho rummaged around in the donut box until he found the apple fritter. "Because I'm willing to believe he's changed, even if it's just a little."

Rigsby's only response was to slurp loudly on the iced coffee in front of him.

Meanwhile, the man in question was on the other side of town, tramping through the sandy bank of the river. Jane did his best to maneuver around the people and belongings littering the shore. The large shopping bag in his right hand, and his dress shoes, were impeding the process.

Jane had actually stopped to pick up sun block for Lisbon at a local pharmacy, but then he'd gone a step further. The drugstore, like most chain stores was now trying to drum up more business by selling everything under the sun, as opposed to just the things one associates with an apothecary. Jane had come across a large, floppy and foldable sun hat that was perfect for Lisbon. It was a bit ridiculous looking, but that was kind of the point.

Now he just had to find the silly woman. Jane scanned the crowd, but he didn't see anyone resembling Lisbon in the immediate vicinity. He remembered that Van Pelt had suggested Lisbon was nervous about wearing her bathing suit in public and decided to keep walking. Knowing Lisbon she'd have hidden herself behind a large rock or underneath some heavy brush.

Jane wandered until he spotted a group of teenagers lounging beside a substantial sand dune. Just down from the teens was a group of middle aged Moms and their kids. Aside from these two disparate groups there was no one else around. Perfect! Lisbon had to be around here somewhere.

He past the teenagers who did their best to pretend they didn't care about his existence, but couldn't help covertly staring at his odd beach attire. A three piece suit wasn't a common sight at a time and place like this. Jane rounded the group of mothers and gave them a smile meant to break hearts before ambling towards the other side of the dune.

He came to a halt abruptly. The only person on the other side of the dune was another teenager-a girl-in a sparkly green bikini and large aviator sunglasses. She was facing away from him reading a magazine, and fiddling with her IPod. Jane didn't want to seem like some lecherous pervert so he backed away quickly, just as the girl started to roll over, after finding the appropriate musical accompaniment for her sunbathing.

Jane was about to beat a hasty exit when the young woman removed her sunglasses, squinted at him, and said, "Jane? What are you doing here?"

He almost dropped the shopping bag. This girl was no teenager. He thought about how he'd once solved a case with a cell phone and a trick of light. Turns out strategically placed sequins can play havoc with the mind as well.

Jane didn't know where to look. He didn't have the benefit of shades to hide his gaze. Lisbon was lying in front of him, all but naked, save for two small scraps of fabric.

Unless you counted the top as two pieces, it had two triangles after all, plus three strings, and he really had to stop staring at all of it.

"Jane? Hello? Why are you here?" Lisbon repeated her question.

He should have replied with something suave, after all he was known for his silver tongue, had made a fortune with it even, but all that came out was, "Lisbon, hey, you're uh, not wearing you're necklace."

TBC…one more chapter and that is all I promise.