6. OFF KILTER

She awoke at eight o'clock exactly to the sound of her security alarm going off.

"Lis-bon?"

"Ugh. You have got to be kidding," she groaned into her pillow.

"Lis-bon!"

She hauled herself out of her bed and thumped down the stairs, glare firmly in place.

"I'm assuming you have sixty seconds to punch in the code before the cops show up," he said over his shoulder as he breezed into the kitchen to set his grocery bags on the counter.

She stomped to the keypad, wincing with each step and punched in the code like she was trying to make a point. Too late, she realized he was peering over her shoulder. She wheeled on him, her face only inches away from his. She poked his chest much like she had punched in her code. He cringed, bringing his hand to his chest and looking at her in disbelief, his lips framing a drawn out "ow".

"You will forget whatever it is you saw!" She was just pointing at him now, her other hand balled into a fist at her hip as he rubbed his chest.

"How did you get in here, anyway? Jane? . . . Did you pick my deadbolts? They're brand new! And how the hell did you get the chain off?"

He was peering down the top of his shirt now, his chin tucked back as far as he could get it.

"Cho and Rigsby must have only taken out enough links to keep their forearms from reaching around. They're a lot bulkier than I am."

He patted his chest and looked up to see her staring at him with her arms folded tight against her small frame, obviously not swallowing his flimsy explanation.

"You're really upset about this." He seemed surprised.

"I'm not upset. The locks are supposed to keep people out."

"They keep people out. They just don't keep me out."

She was frowning at him now. It didn't occur to him that she would get this irritated. How long had she known him anyway? Ah, well. An apology was in order.

"Lisbon, I'm sorry. I didn't think—"

He was cut off by her snort. They stood, staring at one another. She rolled her eyes.

"I am not upset."

She really was. He saw the telltale sign and raised one index finger to point it out.

"Yes, yes, you are. When you're upset or thrown off kilter, you suck in your bottom lip, and it makes your slight overbite more pronounced."

She hated her overbite. Jutting her chin out at him, she demanded, "What's your tell? What do you do when you're 'off kilter'?"

He'd done it again—upset her, maybe even frightened her. He didn't mean to start off the day by mucking it up again. He tried to smile to lighten his embarrassment. "Apparently I frighten and manhandle tiny women."

Last night she had given an explanation for her behavior without apology. He had given her an apology, and now she had the explanation. He had been worried, even after they'd found her. She hadn't forgotten his staying at the hospital every night while she slept with no one to talk to in spite of the fact that he hated the place and was probably bored out of his mind. She knew he cared about her, but he sure had a screwy way of showing it. Go figure.

"What's in the bags?"

His face brightened immediately, and he rubbed his palms together with relish.

"Br-r-r-eakfast!"

"What are we having?"

"It's a surprise. You go upstairs and try for a shower today while I cook. It'll be ready when you're done if you don't dawdle."

He turned her around and gave her a little shove. She looked back to retort over her shoulder.

"I never dawdle."

As she started up the stairs, he yelled from the kitchen.

"Make sure you leave the door open!"

"Excuse me?"

He peered around the doorway at her and explained in his patient voice. "In case you need help—so I can hear you call."

She narrowed her eyes at the doorway after his head disappeared. She walked up the stairs, gathered some clean clothes from her bedroom and walked into the bathroom, leaving the door opened no more than an inch. Rethinking, she pulled it open another two inches. Just over twenty minutes later she walked into the kitchen. Though his back was to the doorway, Jane could tell the instant she stepped into the room.

"Good, you're done. Any longer and I'd have come looking for you."

He finished plating the food and turned toward her, intending to walk into the living room. Her long hair was still wet, but she had plaited it in two loose braids. She was wearing a black tank top over black, gray and baby-blue plaid flannel sleep pants. He could just barely make out the bulk of the tape around her mid-section.

"Did you tape yourself?" He could kick himself for giving away his level of attentiveness.

"What? I was supposed to ask you?"

Thankfully, she moved past him to the coffee maker before she could see his dry swallow. He walked into the living room and sat on the floor, mimicking Lisbon's position of the previous evening.

"Omelets?" she asked, walking up behind him. He could hear the smile in her voice. She put his tea down next to him and walked around the table with her coffee and sat down on the couch moving a little more naturally.

"With asparagus, mushrooms, prosciutto and Gruyere cheese."

Her eyes widened as she smiled at him in delight. She took a bite, chewed once, closed her eyes and sighed out a hum.

"Good?"

She opened her eyes and nodded vigorously. "Mm-hmm!"

She cut off and speared another bite and ate it with relish. His heart felt lighter just watching her. He had a feeling this was pre-CBI Lisbon. Maybe even pre-cop, pre-sad Lisbon.

"So, August 19th."

"What?"

"Your security code. 0819. August 19th. The anniversary of the date you'll never forget."

"You'll never guess, so don't even try." In spite of her grin, he saw just a hint of apprehension in her eyes. He didn't think about it before. Just because it's an anniversary doesn't mean the event was a happy one. He dropped the guessing game.

"How do you know there's no case?"

"How do you know I know there's no case?"

"You're not asking me about it or trying to push me out the door."

"Cho called me while I was upstairs. He calls a couple of times a day to keep me in the loop." And to check in, Jane added silently. He had seen how feverishly Cho had worked to find her as well as the look on his face as he stood over the body in the basement. "And your phone hasn't rung since you've been here."

"How do you know?"

"Door was open. Remember?"

"What if I had my phone on vibrate?"

"You usually only have it on vibrate at the office so I can't tell when you're getting a call or a text. And I would've heard you talking. You wouldn't've known I could hear you because you didn't expect me to actually keep the door open."

Another bite. In spite of their conversation, her omelet was nearly gone. He took it as a compliment that she hadn't touched her coffee yet. And she was right. He was surprised she'd kept the door open.

"So, what's your plan for today?"

"Breakfast with you, clean up the dishes, go to work and back here for dinner."

"What'll you bring me?"

"I've already brought it. I'm cooking again."

"What are we having?"

"It's a surprise."

"I'm not supposed to look in the fridge all day?"

He smiled at her ribbing, answering again with mock patience. "You can look in the fridge, just not in the bags I brought."

"You trust me that much?"

"I trust you completely."

They looked at one another levelly for a moment. As she took her last bite of omelet, she grinned at him slyly.

"Big mistake, boy-o."

"Boy-o? You sound like an Irish gangster."

"Check my family tree sometime." She winked at him over her coffee mug.

He finished his omelet as she took her last drink then pushed away from the table. His movement hitched when he tried to rise, and she stood and extended her hand to him.

"Need a little help, Gramps?" she asked as they clasped hands and she helped him to his feet. Upon rising, he pulled one of her braids.

"You need to respect your elders, Missy."

Both of their cell phones rang at the same time.

"Lisbon." "Jane."

"What?" Cho and Van Pelt asked in unison. Lisbon and Jane walked away from each other as they continued their respective phone conversations, Jane toward the stairs and Lisbon to the kitchen.

"We caught a case, Boss. Middle-aged male found by a jogger in Del Paso Park. Gunshot wound to the chest. Local LEOs are on the scene. Our coroner's headed there now."

"Okay, Cho. You know what to do. Thanks for letting me know."

They hung up and looked at each other.

"You better take off. I've got the dishes."

"About dinner—"

"I'll be here." Waiting. He knew she would never say it aloud, but he heard it as clearly as if she had spoken it. "Besides, I think I can handle chicken piccata."

"You peeked."

"Told you." She walked to the door, opened it and held it for him as he shrugged into his jacket and followed her.

"Lock the door—"

"And set the alarm," she finished with him. "I know, I know."

He kissed her on the top side of her head and walked out the door, pulling up short just on the other side. He heard her slide the bolts and punch in the first two numbers of the code. After a long pause, she pushed the last two numbers slowly.

He'd kissed Madeleine Hightower once on the cheek, knowing it would throw her off balance at least momentarily. He'd just kissed Lisbon without a thought. No plan. No scheme. He decided to forget about it. He knew Lisbon would act like it never happened.

It wasn't until he got in his car that he remembered he'd joined the team four years ago . . . in August.

At Del Paso Park, Van Pelt fell into step with him as he walked toward the crime scene.

"How'd it go last night?"

"We had Thai and watched a movie. I made sure she took some pain medicine before I left."

"And this morning?"

"Better," he answered in a purposely casual tone. "She has a way to go. But at least she's wearing fewer clothes."

He smiled to himself as he continued walking, leaving Grace where she had frozen in her tracks.