Chapter Three

The next thing Lisbon was aware of was the fact that she was being shaken awake. Despite the urgency, sleep tugged back at her, fighting whoever was waking her for custody of her consciousness. The waker won, bringing her eyes open just a fraction so that she could recall where she was. The comfort around her reminded her that she was in her bed, and despite her efforts not to go to sleep, it looked like she may have had a few hours rest, at least. It was still dark, sunlight not yet pouring in around the curtains of her room, even though a quick glance her that they were, in fact, open. It was cool, which usually she would have welcomed in the usual Californian sun, but for some reason this morning it was rather irritating.

"Teresa."

The name snapped her eyes open all the way, realising that, not only had it been a long time since there had been a man in her bedroom, it was also a long time since they had been half dressed in her bedroom. But something that had never happened, was that the half-naked man in her bedroom, and calling her by her first name, no less, was Patrick Jane. When she focused on him, he was leaning over her from the other side of the bed, his hand on her bare shoulder as he tried to wake her.

Wait. Bare shoulder?

"Teresa, wake up."

No matter what the weather, Teresa Lisbon never slept in the nude. She felt exposed, even when she was alone in her locked apartment. Sure enough, when she moved her legs to turn and face Jane's direction, her own skin was unclothed as it brushed against her other limbs. Her heart started to pound, having never felt more awake in her life as she sat up quickly, somehow remembering to take the bed sheet along with her movement so that she could cover her bare chest. Jane snapped back a little as she almost knocked heads with him.

But that was a mistake. Being that close to him returned images to her mind. Seeing his eyes so close to hers bough back the memory of him leaning above her, staring down into her eyes with a darkness she'd not seen before. It wasn't there now, but she could remember it clearly and what it spoke of. Desperation. Need. Want. Possession. At the time, it had fuelled her, but now...oh god, what had she done.

"Take it easy," he whispered, steadying her arm as she whipped up quickly. But for him, that just recalled memories of grasping her upper arms, using the grip to pull her tightly against him, then running his fingertips down the soft skin as her sports jersey had been removed. As much as the memory made him want to repeat the action, he decided to recoil his hand.

"What time is it?" she asked him.

"Four-fifteen," he replied. "We got a call."

"Red John?" she whispered, her breath coming slower now she was beginning to calm, however the deep breaths she was now taking was just reminding her of just how much deeper they felt when Jane had collapsed on top of her.

He nodded. "The Joliss parents called Cho. He's been back to the house. Left a message in the daughter's bedroom."

"Oh, God," Lisbon murmured, as she crawled under Jane's arm to get out of the bed. The sheet dropped without regard for his presence, she just assumed that he would be more focused on finishing buttoning his shirt than watching her search for clean underwear and new clothes. She put her fresh undergarments on, her back to him the entire time, and went about finding a shirt. A quick glance over her shoulder when she didn't hear movement showed her that he was still in the room, but wasn't so fussed about moving. Instead, he was watching her change before him, and that darkness had returned. "Jane..."

"Two hours ago we were on first name terms," he interrupted her, his voice rough and half-filled with sleep.

"Yeah, we were," she remembered. "I...I guess we should talk about...this," she suggested, pulling a shirt off the hanger and putting her arms into the sleeves.

"About the fact that you're suddenly comfortable enough to face me wearing your underwear with your shirt wide open?" he questioned. Lisbon rolled her eyes and started to button up her shirt. "Or not so comfortable," he corrected himself.

"We slept together," she said bluntly.

"We did," he nodded.

She sighed. "What were we thinking?"

"Comfort," he answered her instantly. "We both wanted it, needed it, really."

Another sigh, this one more frustrated. "We weren't thinking clearly," she said, shaking her head as she selected her work pants.

"We weren't thinking at all," Jane corrected her.

She put her pants on, doing up the zipper before noticing that he hadn't moved to get dressed anymore than he had when he woke her. "Jane-"

"If we'd been thinking, we wouldn't have done this at all. Not in the middle of a Red John case."

And just like that, the normal Jane was back – the Jane that sought Red John with a determination she'd rarely seen in a man. The darkness in his eyes as he'd watched her dress had disappeared, replaced with the coldness and fierce loathing towards the serial killer who had taken his family away from him. This had been the Jane that she'd wanted to get rid of, the one that she hoped had been stilled when she (stupidly, in hindsight) told him about her own child that had been taken, and her own quest for revenge. Somehow, she'd thought that when he promised her that Red John wouldn't die at his hand, she would have a reason to believe him.

"Jane, I know you're passionate about catching him, but-"

But then that Jane was gone, replaced with a shy smile with a hint of 'I'm incredibly pleased with myself'. "Uh...don't say passionate," he told her. "It's...bringing back some intense graphic memories."

She rolled her eyes, hoping that he didn't notice she was now sharing his thought train, and pushed past him. "Hurry up, we need to get going."

The drive to the Joliss house was silent to start with. Jane slid into the passenger seat beside her without so much as a casual conversation. Red John cases rarely bought an air of casual to any part of their day, even if they were just refilling coffee. He was a constant shadow over every second of the case. Still, though Jane was silent, Lisbon could feel his eyes on her. She didn't have to turn to see that he raking his eyes over her body, no doubt remembering last night in a way that she was trying to stop herself from. She needed to focus, and Jane was undressing her with his eyes.

"He's left a message," she remembered him saying, and she repeated it to try and stop him from staring at her so intently.

"Red John. Yes," he said simply, his eyes settling on her collarbone.

"What do you think it says?" she asked.

He shrugged. "The usual. A taunting remark about how he knows we're investigating and that he's superior to us in every way."

Lisbon shook her head. "He's not."

"Perhaps he is," Jane suggested.

She turned her head briefly. "Jane-"

"If he wasn't, we'd have caught him by now," Jane pointed out. In the silence that followed, he reached out his fingertips brushing her thigh. She wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he wasn't going to be finding it in the middle of a case in the front seat of her car. "Teresa..."

"Jane, we can't afford to think about what happened last night," she told him. "Not now. We need our work heads on. We can't afford any distractions."

"We slept together," he told her, just as she had done upstairs.

"Yes, we did," she repeated.

"We wanted comfort and we made-"

Oh, she knew how this one went. "A mistake, right?" she assumed.

His hand trailed her thigh once more, and she fought the shudder. She wouldn't let him have that affect on her if he was going to call that a mistake. She wasn't sure what she wanted to call it herself, though. "I do think it was a mistake, but for the reasons you're thinking."

She scoffed. "And what reasons am I thinking?"

"You're worrying that I was using you as a way to forget, that it only happened because we've been linked by a similar loss, and that it was bad or unsatisfying for me," his eyes travelled her body again. "I can assure you, it certainly wasn't."

"For Gods sake," she muttered, pushing his hand away from her leg.

"No," he protested. "We need to talk about this now or we never will."

"Perhaps it's better that way," she suggested. "If it was a mistake."

"Teresa, wait-"

"Wait for what?" she asked him sharply. "For you to tell me that it was a mistake, that it meant nothing and we should pretend that it never happened? Let me save you the trouble, Jane. It meant nothing and we should forget that it ever happened."

"It meant something to me," he whispered.

She frowned. "What?"

"I said, it meant something," he told her, slightly louder. "It meant...it meant a lot and I don't want to forget that it happened. I don't think I possibly could. But we have a connection, Teresa, and I'm not sure whether or not that's just a friendship or something more. You're closer to me than anyone else, and I can't go through with anything that might compromise might."

"Like what?" she asked.

"We're in the middle of a Red John case," he reminded her.

She shook her head, staring with a new determination at the road before her. "Nice to know he's more important than me," she muttered to herself.

"Teresa...he watches us during these cases," he pointed out. "You know that."

And that thought did chill her blood every time, though she'd never let any of the team know that, especially Jane. "If this is about me being in danger-"

"Yes, it is," he told her simply.

She shook her head, and they arrived at the Joliss house which gave her a perfect excuse not to reply to him. "Let's go, Cho's waiting. And don't call me Teresa on duty."

Peek-a-boo.

The message on the wall stared down at them beside the Red John face. If anything, the message alongside it only made it seem creepier then it had before. Lisbon turned to Jane. "Any idea what this means?" she asked.

"Peek-a-boo," he read. "It's a child's game."

"I know that much," she told him.

"It means that he's watching," Jane revealed. "Peek-a-boo, I see you."

"He's never given us a message like this before," Cho pointed out.

"It makes sense," Jane shrugged. "Disappearing from sight then making himself known again. The game suits its behaviour. It fits his superiority, he sees him as the game leader, the adult, and us as the pawns, the children."

But the way he was staring at the word made Lisbon's skin crawl. "Does this mean something to you?" she asked him.

He nodded. "It means he's watching me. It means he's seen something that interests him."

And he the look in his eyes showed Lisbon that he was referring to their evening together. The idea of Red John watching them sleep together made her want to be sick. "He can't have," she told him, ignoring Cho's quietly curious gaze.

Jane just raised an eyebrow. "Would it surprise you that much?" he asked her.

She ignored the thought, wiped away the uncomfortable feeling and walked towards the wall where the message was, comparing it with the smiley face that was already there. "This isn't blood," she noticed.

"It's paint," Cho confirmed.

"That's good," Lisbon realised. "It means that he hasn't killed again."

"Yet," Jane jumped it quickly. "He's planning to. He's chosen his target."