A/N: All characters, cases, and locations belong to Bruno Heller, CBS, and affiliates. A short chapter with just Jane and Lisbon but we get some insight into Chicago and Jane comes up with a plan for the Artist. This is the *edited* version of this chapter. I wasn't happy with the quality of the previously posted one. If there's more interest in the story, I'll continue posting. Please be sure to give me feedback if you enjoy the story. As always, please review.

Chapter VI: What Has Come to Pass

It was late before Jane came to see her. She had expected him hours ago since she had dismissed her already agitated team to their beds with a promise of finding a new lead in the morning.

He didn't speak as he pulled the door to her office open with a tray of tea and coffee in hand. He was humming to himself as he sat it in the middle of her desk, preparing his tea in his customary turquoise cup and her coffee with one sugar in the other.

Lisbon didn't speak as he did this and watched the routine in his hands as he tucked the cup under his fingers and leaned back in the chair.

His face was smooth, but alert as he voiced the question that had already filled the room, "What really happened in Chicago?"

"I don't have time for this right now, Jane," she snapped, gesturing down to the file folder haphazardly open on her desk.

"Please, Lisbon, we've been through this. You secretly want to tell me, which is why you try so hard not to. Come now, get it off your chest and it'll make your head stop pounding so loudly," he countered, taking a dainty sip of tea.

Lisbon glared at him, not even questioning his source about the headaches that just wouldn't stay away. She shoved the latest CSU forms across the desk and reached for her coffee.

As the first gulp of the steamy liquid ran down her throat she knew Jane had won the battle.

"James' ex-wife called me, saying that the EMTs had called her, saying James had been shot. I flew out immediately, thinking it was an old convict that was trying to get revenge. End of story."

Her eyes darted back down to the papers strewn all over her desk. When Jane didn't speak she looked back up.

He had an eyebrow raised and was calmly sipping his tea. "Don't lie to me, Lisbon."

"I don't lie," she defended herself heatedly.

"Fine, you're half-truthing me. What got you all upset, mostly likely about who shot at your brother?" he tilted his head up and nodded decisively. "Yep, definitely what's got you so upset."

"Stop trying to analyze me, Jane. I'm not in the mood for it," she snapped crossly. "James said he didn't know who shot him. They never matched the shell casing or got an id on the shooter."

"Here we go again with the half-truths. I'm not Bosco, Lisbon, you can trust me." He leaned forward. "You know that right?"

The breathy tone made Lisbon's throat closely momentarily for she cleared her throat, breaking the spell. "If I tell you will you leave me alone?"

"Meh," Jane shrugged.

"Once I got to the hospital, he was awake and agitated. He said he hadn't told the police, but he swears that it was our father that was there, that shot at him."

Jane's face didn't change at the revelation. His hand strayed to the back of her hand and quietly and calmly stroked it as she was speaking.

"Why didn't you tell Bosco that James saw your father?"

Lisbon raised an eyebrow at him, crossly. "My father has been buried for twelve years, Jane. He's not going to suddenly get up and try to shoot my brother."

"Then what's got you so upset?"

Lisbon's eyes found the window and she sighed, not answering. Jane's eyes found her face, watching her every breath and blink.

"Lisbon?" he said gently.

"He just can't just leave us alone, can he?" she said, her voice barely a whisper. "He's dead, he shouldn't be able to do this."

Jane bit his lip, uncharacteristically quiet. "What did you do about it?"

Lisbon scoffed. "James kicked me out of his room before I could do much. He was the first one to leave. He wanted no part of us after the funeral. He left when he turned eighteen. Moved back to the city. He was angry, I think. I never figured out why; he would stay at his friends' houses for all hours, not come home for days at a time to get away from him."

"He left you with him?" Jane's voice was razor sharp and cold.

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "He's a mechanic now, was married to a girl he met there," Lisbon continued, ignoring the question. "But they got a divorce after she turned out to be an alcoholic. She sobered up, but I don't think they're going to get back together."

"Aren't you religious type supposed to believe in miracles?"

Lisbon gave him a halfhearted glare and he returned it with his characteristic grin.

There was a comfortable silence.

"Lisbon, I have an idea. We're going to need Cho and Rigsby down here, two bags of bread, and a butterfly net."