Author's Note: Wow, thanks to all of you who welcomed the continuation of this story! It seems I'm not the only one who needs a way to reconcile spoilers with my Jisbon wishes. This chapter continues that, though I'm sure when the new characters debut, I'll be proven laughably wrong. But until then, this is how I'm pretending it's going to go!
Chapter 4: Reunion
Six weeks later, Jane was taking his morning post-swim walk up the beach toward his little rented villa when he was hailed by one of the resort's staff members. "Señor, a lady is looking for you. She was pretty and she had a badge, so I told her which villa you are in."
His heart leapt. It was the oddest sensation, a feeling he'd almost completely forgotten: joy. "Thanks, Jorge!"
He quickened his pace, all thoughts of a leisurely stroll gone. He couldn't believe he was only moments from seeing Lisbon again, and now that their separation was almost over he keenly felt how much he'd missed the sight of her. She hadn't mentioned anything about coming down when they'd spoken on the phone last night, but maybe she'd wanted to surprise him. That explained why she'd seemed distracted and cut the call short. He was relieved to know she wasn't sick or overworked, as he'd thought.
Rapidly revising his plans for the day, he began to think about what she would most enjoy. He had to find out how long she was here for and begin wrapping up his own stay so he could go back with her, because he never wanted to say good-bye to her again. All he wanted to do, he realized, was kiss her dimples and sink into her luscious body. His heart rate increased beyond what his near-jog necessitated, and he grinned in anticipation.
He stopped short when he realized the woman sitting on the edge of the villa's porch was not Teresa Lisbon. She was a stranger, but she smiled like she knew him as she stood. "Patrick Jane," she greeted him. "You're a hard man to find."
"That's on purpose," he replied, ignoring her outstretched hand. He'd told only Lisbon where he was, and he was pretty sure she hadn't told this woman, whoever she was. "I'm on vacation."
"And I would have waited for you to get back, but no one seemed to have any idea of when that might be," she replied.
"I assume you're here on business, then." He folded his arms and waited. She was definitely a cop; she had the posture. Her accent indicated she was from somewhere in Texas, probably someplace urban. That struck him as odd, because the only thing the FBI could want to talk to him about was Red John, who had nothing to do with Texas as far as he knew.
"I'm afraid so. Special Agent Kim Fischer, FBI." She held up her badge.
"And what can I do for you today, Special Agent Fischer?" He thought about inviting her inside, but he wanted to get this over with. He couldn't help hating her a little her for not being Lisbon. He felt like someone had offered him a treat and then snatched it away, and he wanted to get rid of her and then see if he could get back to Sacramento today.
"Can we go inside? This won't take long." She gave him a friendly smile. "But I sure could use a drink of water."
"All right." He unlocked the door and waited for her to enter, then gestured to the only chair in the front room while he went into the tiny kitchen to get her a bottle of water.
"Nice place," she remarked as he handed it to her. "Are you planning to stay?"
"No. Now, what does the FBI want with me, Special Agent Fischer? You've been watching me for nearly a decade now; surely there's nothing more you need to know?"
She grimaced a little. "The information we were receiving on you was not exactly official, Mr. Jane. And from what I've heard of you, I doubt the most interesting things ever made it into the reports, anyway. Certainly not all you know about Red John."
"I know he's dead," Jane said pleasantly, taking a seat on the small sofa and relaxing his body language. "That's all I care about. If you're interested in the details of the case, I suggest you talk to Lisbon."
"I have, of course," she replied. "But although she offered to tell me anything I needed to know, she was very reluctant to talk about you and your methods. She's protected you a lot over the years, hasn't she? A hard habit to break, I guess."
"Well, you know. Partners." He smiled at her, knowing the deep meaning most cops assigned to that word. "I won't talk about her to you either, so I hope that's not what you came here for."
"It seems that Red John had quite a network, and it's still operating. So they've brought in some outsiders like me to try to root it out. But so far we haven't had a lot of luck identifying any of its members. I hoped you might have some insight."
"The ones I knew about are all dead," Jane said. "Sorry."
"Did you have any suspects you weren't able to rule out?" She seemed unfazed by his lack of interest.
"Lisbon knew all the people I wasn't sure about. Didn't she tell you?"
"She gave me a list, yes. But I wasn't sure you weren't holding out on her."
"She knows everything," Jane asserted, which wasn't quite true, but true enough for the FBI. He owed them nothing, after all.
"So you never suspected her, or any member of her team?"
Jane laughed before he could stop himself. The idea of Lisbon, of all people, in league with a serial killer and leading a double life was the funniest thing he'd heard in ages.
Fischer gave him a sharp look. "If anyone accused my partner of being dirty, I wouldn't laugh about it."
"Accuse her of whatever you like. You'll never find anything to pin on her because she is completely innocent."
"Nobody is completely innocent," Fischer replied. "She's done some dubious things on your behalf, to say the least. Like at least one illegal wiretapping instance we've been able to prove. Who knows what else we'll find?"
The FBI was investigating Lisbon? That was a whole new level of insanity, even for a federal agency, he thought. "Waste your time if you like. You won't find Red John's network through Lisbon."
"What about her team?"
"They are loyal to Lisbon. And to each other. They wouldn't let anything get in the way of that." If one of them was dirty, they'd all have to be. Cho was the only one of them he could imagine sustaining any secret identity, but Jane was convinced it would turn out to be that of a best-selling mystery writer rather than a Red John disciple. Or, much more interestingly, a romance novelist. Yes, that would be satisfyingly amusing. He fought the urge to smirk.
"And what about you?" Fischer asked.
"What about me? You can't possibly think I ever had any connection with Red John."
"No, but maybe you're loyal to Lisbon. Maybe loyal enough to help her cover up her past sins now that the killer himself is dead."
Jane shook his head. "Lisbon had nothing to do with Red John, except trying to catch him. I have no great capacity for forgiveness, Agent Fischer. If I had found out she helped the man who murdered my family, I assure you she'd be in prison." If he hadn't wrung her beautiful neck in a fit of insanity and betrayal, ending up either in a mental institution or a coffin himself. He suppressed a shudder, glad that Red John had been obsessed with Blake's poetry rather than, say, Othello. "I advise you to take a long, hard look at how Lisbon came to be a focus of your investigation. The person or persons who developed that theory did so to protect someone else, or to waste your time."
"You seem very sure of Agent Lisbon," Fischer remarked.
"I am. I read people for a living, Agent Fischer."
"And what is your take on me?"
Jane smiled thinly. "I'm on vacation. And frankly I'd like to get on with it."
"Of course. Thank you for your time, Mr. Jane. I hope we'll meet again."
If you're harassing Lisbon, I guarantee we will. But you won't enjoy it, he thought, even as he smiled and stood up to escort her to the door. "Have a safe trip home, Agent Fischer."
"Thanks. Enjoy your vacation, Mr. Jane."
When she was gone, he picked up his phone, tempted to call Lisbon. He was a little irked that she hadn't seen fit to mention she was being investigated by the FBI, but then, knowing her, she hadn't wanted to interrupt his vacation. He was supposed to be doing some hard thinking, after all, and minimizing distractions.
The problem was, he'd mostly been surfing, swimming, and napping. He hadn't had any epiphanies, though he had managed to leave his wedding ring safely tucked away in his suitcase for the past three weeks. And he'd decided to sell the Malibu house, since he couldn't imagine living there again. His life was in Sacramento now, even if he didn't go back to work at CBI. He would find an apartment there, or maybe a house if Lisbon decided they could live together.
Should he stay until he'd finished what he came to do? The other things he needed to decide all hinged on Lisbon in one way or another. Staying away from her was hindering that, not helping.
No. He'd leave today. He wanted to see her—needed to see her. There was no point in putting off their future, whatever it turned out to be, a single day longer.
mmm
Since he didn't care how much he spent, he was able to land in Sacramento in the late afternoon. Retrieving his car, he went straight to Lisbon's place even though it was far too early for her to be home. He would just pick the lock and surprise her. She might even be so glad to see him that she would forget to threaten to shoot him. He grinned in anticipation.
He'd just gotten started on the lock when the door swung open and the barrel of a gun appeared in his face. Before he could react, it snapped upward out of his line of vision as Lisbon gasped, "Jane?"
"Hi honey, I'm home," he managed to say, straightening up and grinning at her.
"You ever hear of knocking?" she demanded, setting the gun down on the table beside the door. Then she threw her arms around him and hugged him, hard.
He hugged back, burying his face in her hair. After the first euphoric moment, he realized it didn't smell as nice as usual, and he could feel tangles against his cheek. Pulling back, he took in her baggy sweatshirt with surprise. Was she sick? "What are you doing home at this hour?" he asked.
He felt her sag in his arms and was shocked to recognize that she was telegraphing shame. It wasn't something he was used to seeing on her. Not illness, then. Pregnant? The thought stunned him, making it difficult to breathe. The timing was right, and he hadn't given any thought to contraception during their night together, too focused on trying to lose himself in her and celebrate the fact that Red John was dead, they were both alive, and he wasn't going to jail. He'd known for years that Lisbon was on the pill, but it was possible she'd gone off it, or been taking it erratically as the case heated up. He had been distracted enough that he might not have noticed.
"I'm taking a mental health day. I just couldn't face things," she muttered, looking down.
He brought up his hand to tilt her chin up so he could look at her face again. She wasn't sick, and he didn't think she was concealing pregnancy, but her explanation made no sense to him. Lisbon didn't take mental health days.
As he watched, her expression slowly blossomed into another unfamiliar one: happiness. She beamed at him and said softly, "I'm so glad to see you."
"Oh good. I was beginning to wonder, since you haven't invited me in," he teased.
Flustered, she grabbed his arm to pull him inside, and he barely managed to grab his suitcase before she closed the door. As he took her in from a few steps away, he spotted something that made his heart do that weird leaping thing. "You're wearing the ring."
She blushed. "I wear it when I'm missing you."
He felt he would never stop grinning. "And now that I'm back?"
She shrugged, trying and failing to be casual. "I've kind of gotten used to it. I've missed you a lot."
"Not half as much as I missed you," he assured her, closing the distance between them and pulling her into his arms for a long, deep kiss.
Her hands roamed over his back, then his shoulders, then his chest, leaving trails of heat through his thin shirt. When they parted to catch their breaths, she said, "You look good. You got some sun, and you've been working out."
"I did a lot of swimming," he replied, nibbling on her neck.
"Oh, I haven't had a shower today," she said, as if just realizing it. "I'm a mess."
"You look, smell, and taste fantastic," he responded, "but I'm happy to assist with any showering you deem necessary."
She buried her face in his neck. "I'm so glad to see you."
Her voice was muffled, but he heard the emotion in it. He stopped his exploration of her jawline and shifted his embrace to a comforting one, rubbing her back and resting his cheek against her hair, tamping down his reaction to discovering she wasn't wearing a bra. She had obviously been having a rough time, and he knew full well he was the person she usually talked to about things that were bothering her. He wished she'd called him, but she'd only done so once, late at night and obviously after a nightmare. He hadn't been able to disguise the fact that he'd been asleep, and she hadn't called again. She had tried so hard to give him the time he needed, to her own detriment, he now realized. Well, he would make it up to her.
"Don't worry," he said. "I told the FBI they were on the wrong track. Hopefully they'll find something more useful to do with their time than harass you. And if not, I'll find them a better wild goose to chase."
She pulled back to look at him, her eyes watery and the crease back between her eyebrows. "You talked to the FBI? When?"
"This morning. Some woman from Texas with a lot of wrongheaded ideas that I can only assume someone fed her."
The happiness had faded out of her face, replaced with disappointment. "You came back because she told you I was in trouble?"
"She didn't tell me that, at least not in so many words. I'm a little upset that you didn't tell me, though. I told you I wanted to know what was going on in your life, didn't I?" He began finger-combing her hair.
"I didn't want you to feel like you needed to come back. I wanted you to decide to come back because you were ready. Not any other reason," she said sadly.
"I didn't come back because I thought you needed my help," he said. "Although I would have. I came back because when I heard a pretty lady with a badge was looking for me, I assumed it was you. I was so excited, really happy. And then I was so disappointed that it was someone else. It made me realize I was tired of being without you."
"But did you figure things out? Do what you needed to?" She searched his face, her eyes dark with concern.
"Yes. Most of it. The rest, we'll figure out together." He kissed her lightly. "The first and most important of which is whether we're getting married."
She dropped her gaze under his scrutiny. "I'm not sure I know how to be married."
"You just be yourself. I don't want you to change, Lisbon. Not in any way. I just want to know that we belong to each other, and for everyone else to know it too." He stroked her hair again, smiling at her.
"That's all you want?" She seemed doubtful.
"Yes. No cooking or cleaning or fetching of slippers required. I'll put it into the wedding vows if you like."
She seemed reassured for a moment, but almost immediately frowned again. "Where will we live?"
"Here, if you want. Someplace a little bigger if you prefer. Maybe a snug little house with a beautiful garden? Or the penthouse suite in the luxury apartment building closest to the office. I don't care, as long as we both agree on it."
"But we don't get married in Vegas," she said firmly. "No Elvis impersonators."
"We'll have a small wedding at your church, and then I'll whisk you off to Ireland," he promised, thrilled by the progress they were making. "Just don't make me wait too long, please."
"I don't want to rush into anything," she said, stepping back and running a hand through her hair.
Ah, there was his skittish Lisbon. "We've known each other ten years, Lisbon. I hardly call that rushing."
"And yet we still call each other by our last names. That hardly argues that we're ready for marriage."
She had that mulish look on her face, and he wanted to kiss it off her. "Habit, my dear. Easily corrected with a bit of effort. I am happy to call you Teresa from now on. So, Teresa, tell me what's been going on with you. I want to hear everything, and then I'd like to take you out for a nice dinner." He put his arms around her again and slid his hands under her sweatshirt, disturbed that he could feel her ribs. "You haven't been sick, have you?"
"No. I'm fine. I've just been busy," she said, rolling her eyes a bit.
"And I haven't been here to make you eat," he sighed, feeling guilty. He hadn't fully thought through what his absence would mean for her, and he wished he'd come back sooner. But at least she seemed okay. She had a dangerous job, after all; she could have been badly hurt while he was gone, a fact he'd ignored for his own sanity.
"I can feed myself, Jane. I haven't been starving."
"You've lost weight. You're sure you haven't been sick?" As she shook her head, he decided to push his luck. "Are you pregnant?"
"No!" she said firmly. Then she sighed a little. "I took a pregnancy test a while ago. I was late, and tired, and I thought maybe that was why. But it was negative. My period started the next day."
"Then we'll have wine with our dinner," he said.
She looked at him nervously. "Do you...want kids?"
Jane suppressed a sigh. This was far too heavy a conversation to have standing in her living room, but skirting the issue would only make her more skittish. "Let's sit down," he said.
"Oh. Yes, of course. Do you want some tea?" She half turned toward the kitchen, flustered.
"In a moment," he replied, taking her hand and pulling her over to the couch. She sat down beside him, watching his face anxiously. He drew her close, encouraging her to snuggle into his side. "I am already a father. Charlotte's father. I always will be. And having failed her in the worst way possible, I'm not sure I want to try again."
Her hand slid around his waist, offering a comforting hug.
"That being said," he continued, "if we do conceive, I will love our child and do my very best to be a good father." He pressed a kiss into her hair. "I know you're conflicted about it yourself. We don't need to decide now. Just know that I will never pressure you, one way or the other."
She turned her face into his shoulder. "But I want to give you the things you want," she said slowly. "I want you to be happy."
"I will be happy, as long as you're with me. That's all I need." He pulled her closer, reveling in her warmth and the way she nestled against him so trustingly.
He was just trying to figure out if she'd fallen asleep when she said quietly, "I don't believe in divorce. If we get married, it has to be forever."
"Absolutely," he murmured. "Are you sleepy, sweetheart? Because if we're going to have a nap—an excellent idea, by the way—I'd prefer to do it in bed."
"Mmm," was her only response.
Jane smiled, then shifted her into his lap so he could swing his legs up on the couch and settle them both comfortably for a nice long nap.
mmm
Jane managed to sleep for an hour or so; then he was forced to disturb Lisbon so he could get up and visit the bathroom. When he returned, she was sitting up, blinking and trying to wake up fully. He wondered if she was fighting off a mild virus or something, because she didn't seem quite herself. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Fine. I just didn't have my coffee this morning," she replied.
Ah. That explained it. "Why don't I brew you a cup. Then you can hop in the shower, get dressed, and I'll take you to dinner."
She blinked up at him. "Okay."
Fortunately, Lisbon's coffeemaker was easy to use, so he set it to work and then got started on his tea. They drank their beverages on the couch, leaning companionably against each other, and then she reluctantly went upstairs. Jane made himself a second cup of tea, deciding he would choose where to eat based on what she chose to wear. If she came down in jeans, he'd take her to her favorite burger place; if she went dressier, he'd finagle a table at the fancy Italian place she'd secretly always wanted to try.
He pulled a jacket and vest out of his bag, then dug Lisbon's iron and ironing board out of the closet to make himself presentable. He was grateful he'd taken the time to shave this morning, though he knew she didn't mind a little stubble.
He was just finishing ironing his jacket when her cell began ringing, and he glanced at it where it lay on the coffee table. It was Cho, so he decided to answer it. "Cho! How are you this fine day?"
"Jane." Cho's voice didn't betray any surprise, but the slight pause that followed gave him away. "Since you're answering Lisbon's phone, that means either you're back or you've convinced her to run off with you."
"The first, though I plan to work on the second," Jane said. "I take it there's some kind of emergency, since you know she's home sick?"
"I just wanted to give her a heads up that the FBI is looking for her again. Has she told you about that?"
"The FBI beat her to it. How bad is it?"
"Pretty bad. They're dredging up every questionable thing we ever did tracking down Red John. Did she tell you about the guy who tried to kill her last week?"
Apparently Lisbon had been holding more back than he'd realized. "No. What happened?"
"He broke into her apartment with a taser and a knife in the middle of the night. Red John copycat, we think. Lucky she had her gun within reach."
"Can I speak to him?" Jane made sure to keep his voice calm, though he wanted to wring the assailant's neck.
"Only if you're willing to hold a seance."
That's my girl, Jane thought. "Anything else I need to know?"
"Break her heart and I'll have to kill you. But you knew that."
"I was already aware, yes."
"See you tomorrow?"
"Probably."
"Have a nice time at dinner."
Jane was surprised, which didn't happen often. "How did you know we're going to dinner?"
"You answered Lisbon's phone. Either she's in the bathroom or you have her tied up. Either way, I figure you better feed her."
Jane laughed. "I intend to. See you tomorrow, Cho."
"Welcome home," Cho replied, then hung up.
"Jane?" Lisbon called from upstairs. "Who are you talking to?"
He'd been so distracted by Cho's revelation that he hadn't noticed the shower had stopped. "Cho called. Your pals at the FBI are missing you."
He grinned at the muttered expletive that reached his ears and said, "We'll deal with them tomorrow. Tonight, we feast."
She didn't reply, but he could hear her moving around upstairs. Fifteen minutes later, she came down the stairs. He smiled appreciatively at the emerald green blouse with the draped neckline, which he'd often appreciated in the past for its tantalizing glimpses of her cleavage. Paired with black dress slacks and high heeled boots, it was something she might wear to the office but was nice enough for a restaurant. But what really made him happy was that she was still wearing her engagement ring.
"You look beautiful," he smiled.
"I don't really have a dress to wear," she said uncertainly. "You didn't say where we're going, so I hope this is okay."
"It's perfect." He took a shot at kissing off her lip gloss, refraining from babbling promises to take her shopping and buy her all the designer dresses and ridiculously expensive shoes she wanted. That wasn't the way to Lisbon's heart.
When they parted, he took her hands in his. She looked up at him with eyes bright with happy anticipation, and he resolved to put that expression on her face more often. Bringing her left hand up to his lips, he kissed each of her fingers, rubbing his thumb over her ring. "May I introduce you to the maître d' as my fiancée?" he asked, letting the tenderness he felt for her come through in his voice.
She blushed charmingly, her breath hitching a little as she thought about what he was asking her. Finally, she nodded and gave him a breathless, "Yes."
The smile that took over his face was so wide it hurt a little; his muscles weren't used to it. He indulged in another long kiss, tempted to lead her back upstairs and make love to her until he collapsed from exhaustion. But she had just agreed to publicly announce that she intended to marry him, so the least he could do was buy her the best dinner he could manage at short notice.
Then he'd take her to bed and test his limits.