A/N: Well, it's Tuesday! For me, at least, even if only by a half hour. I was just getting impatient to post this chap, hehe. This is the penultimate chapter, so only one more after this! Ahh! Fun fact: This chapter is exactly 1,000 words in length. (Short, I know. The last one is longer, I promise.) Don't hate me too much after this - you'll want to save all that for the next one, trust me. ;)

Thanks to Almena, Jisbon4ever, TeresaJane, Iloveplotbunnies, and 13 Jo for reviewing chapter seven!

Chapter Eight

Though she used to dread her forced days off, when she would stay at home all day only to be thinking of all the work she could be getting done and not knowing what to do with herself, Lisbon now enjoys her breaks - looks forward to them, even. On occasion, she doesn't even want to go back to work the next morning, finding the idea of spending the whole day at home, with Jane all to herself, exceedingly more enticing.

Between lazy Saturday mornings in bed with Jane, the daily distractions of new cases at work, and late nights on the couch (or against the wall, or on the kitchen counter, or in the shower) with Jane, the Red John debacle of three weeks ago is all but forgotten in her mind.

She stands in the kitchen, clad only in an over-sized tee shirt while she splits a batch of scrambled eggs onto two plates and pops some bread into the toaster. She hums in content as Jane comes up behind her, wrapped in a towel and golden curls dripping wet, and places a feather-light kiss to her cheek.

"You made me breakfast? That was nice of you."

"I made us breakfast. And I didn't have much choice when a certain lazy man wouldn't get out of bed. I seem to remember hearing something along the lines of, 'Day off. Only ten a.m. Going back to sleep.'" Lisbon teases. "I hope you know that you're going to be cleaning up all the water that you're dripping all over my floor."

"No problem. I have a towel right here." Jane moves to tug off the towel that's draped around his waist, giving Lisbon a playful wink, but she swats his hand away.

"Unless you'd like to be charged with indecent exposure, I suggest you leave that towel where it is," she scolds, only half-joking.

"Is that so? If I recall correctly, 'day off' also means 'not on duty', so I'm not too worried about you arresting me. Nice try, though."

"Don't you have better things to do other than being agitating?"

He casually leans against the counter, forkful of eggs in hand as he pretends to contemplate an answer to her question.

"Hmm... nope." He grins, almost laughing when she flinches at the sound of the toaster popping up. "You're stuck with my charming personality all day long."

"Shut up, and eat your toast." She grumbles, frowning as she plops the toast into the middle of his eggs. "I'm getting in the shower. Feel free to make yourself useful or something."

"Oh, don't worry. I will."

-xxx-

Lisbon walks out from her shower, fully intent on teasing Jane by prancing around in her lacy green lingerie. Instead, she finds a note sitting next to the sink by their breakfast dishes, which are now sparkling clean.

Lisbon,

I've gone out for the day to continue 'making myself useful', as requested. Contrary to my usual definition of being helpful, I think you'll enjoy what I bring back with me. I know patience is not one of your virtues, but you're still going to have to wait until this evening to find out exactly what it is. Try not to get too bored without me there to push your buttons.

Jane

She smirks. Great. I have almost a whole day to try and not think about what kind of trouble he's most likely going to get himself into. How could that possibly go wrong?

Grabbing the remote on her way to the couch, she plops down and wraps herself in a blanket, settling down for a marathon of Friends.

-xxx-

Lisbon starts awake at the sound of a car door slamming shut, stretching out on the couch with a yawn. She flicks off the TV and slumps off of the couch, dragging the blanket behind her as she heads through her bedroom and on into the bathroom.

The sun has just finished setting when she walks back out, casting the bedroom into total darkness, and she doesn't notice the hooded figure waiting in the shadows behind her when she walks by.

"You've been ignoring me, Teresa," an unfamiliar voice, tinged with sadness, speaks out from directly behind her.

She whirls around, dropping the blanket in surprise as she comes face to face with a man in a mask who trumps her height by at least eight inches. The color drains from her face when she catches the glint of a knife tucked into his belt, and she begins to slowly back away, finding herself suddenly unable to speak. He whips out his hand and grabs her wrist, roughly pulling her toward him and whipping out a vial with the opposite hand.

"I can't have you running away from me, now can I?" She can imagine the wicked grin present on his face behind the mangled plastic mask, and a chill runs through her veins as the needle pierces her skin and he plunges the syringe, injecting his drug of choice into her system.

Within seconds, her whole body feels sluggish and lethargic, her knees wobbling as they struggle to hold her weight. He extracts the knife from its place and poises it above her wrist, applying just enough pressure to draw blood. She watches helplessly as he swipes three gloved fingers over the cut, allowing her to drop unceremoniously to the floor as he paints a miniature, but equally precise, version of his calling card on the wall opposite her bedroom door.

"Just a little something for Mister Jane to remember you by." His tone is scathing, almost superior. He turns away from the wall and reaches down, scooping her up from the floor and carrying her swiftly out of her apartment.

A lone tear escapes as her vision finally succumbs to the pressing darkness, and all she can hear as she slowly sinks into a state of unconsciousness is the sound of his malicious laughter as it echoes endlessly through her mind.