Once again I apologize for the slow updating by me. Letting the team down as always. I hope this chapter makes up for it at least a little.

BTW if you haven't checked out Donna's recently completed fic "Goldilocks and the Red Wizard," I urge you to do so. It's a fantastic read! And I'm not just saying that because she's my writing partner.

"Remind me why we didn't start doing this years ago," said Lisbon, as they lay together afterwards, gasping for breath and soaked in sweat. She wasn't sure if it was the years of repressed desire that had done it, or the simple fact that she'd never made love to a mentalist before, but sex had never been so satisfying.

One thing was certain, given the choice; she wasn't about to go back to one-night stands now.

"Apparently it's against some rule or other," he whispered back, pushing her damp hair aside and dropping light kisses on her shoulder and her neck, as she sighed contentedly.

"What a stupid rule," she said, lazily, tilting her head aside to grant him optimum access.

He paused in his ministrations, and gasped in mock-horror. "Do mine ears deceive me? Teresa Lisbon, the pinnacle of doing things by the book, actually enjoyed breaking a rule?"

"Oh, shut up, you jerk."

"This is your idea of pillow talk, is it?" he said, resuming the kissing of her neck. "Childish insults?"

"If you're looking for someone who's going to lie here and marvel at your manhood and stroke your ego, there's a whole office full of women at home who'd just love to oblige you. Personally-" she turned and gave him a soft kiss –"I believe in honest criticism. It's the only thing that leads to improvement."

"Improvement?" he repeated, with a raised eyebrow. "So I'm not good enough for you, is that it?"

"I never said that," she said. "Maybe just a little out of practice." She let just the slightest hint of condescension colour her tone, and stifled a giggle at the look of displeasure on his face.

"Well if that's the attitude you're going to take, maybe I will find someone else more deserving of my affection," he said haughtily. "Anyone in the office, you say?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh please. You know full well the stir you created on your first day at the CBI. Not to mention the effect you have on practically every woman that crosses your path."

Every time they walked through the bullpen, she could practically see all the others mentally undressing her consultant. They smiled at him over the tops of files and coffee cups, flirted with him while waiting for the elevator, and 'accidentally' bumped into him in the halls. He was charming and polite to them all, as was his way, but she had been known to shoot the odd death-glare at the ones who were just a little too friendly. Perhaps it was selfish, perhaps a little juvenile, but she was already competing with his dead wife and daughter, and she wasn't about to share him with the rest of the female population as well.

"Including you," he pointed out.

She scoffed. "Hardly. I know things the rest of them don't."

"Oh, yes?"

"Yes." She whispered in his ear. "I know you're an egotistical son of a bitch-"

"Guilty."

"-with a total disregard for rules-"

He smirked. "Guilty. But isn't that a case of the pot and kettle all over again, my dear?"

"And you think you're better than anyone else in the room," she concluded.

He shook his head at this. "That's where you're wrong, Teresa," he said. "I'm smarter then anyone else in the room, not better." He smiled fondly at her and twisted a strand of her hair gently round his finger. "That particular honor is all yours."

"Well," she said slyly. "I can at least think of one thing I'm better at than you." Almost unconsciously, her fingers began to trace shapes on his chest, and her mouth moved to capture his again.

"Such arrogance, Agent Lisbon," he said, once their lips had parted. "Anyone would think you'd been taking tips from me."

She smiled at him. "You've been a bad influence on me right from the beginning," she said. "You made me reckless, and impulsive. I was never that way until you came along."

He shook his head. " We both know that side of you was always there," he said, with a grin. "I just brought it to the surface."

" Maybe," she conceded. "But even on the day we met, I knew you were bad news."

He chuckled. "Yet, you signed on with me anyway."

"You and all the insanity that comes with you."

He kissed her temple, as she settled her head on his chest, thinking about that first day they'd spent together. How painfully aware she'd been of her unwashed hair and the shabby shoes she'd had for years as they'd been introduced. How quickly her insecurities had been forgotten once he'd opened that big mouth of his.

She would never in a million years have imagined they would end up here. After a failed engagement and a couple of relationships going nowhere, she didn't believe she even had the capacity to love somebody so much.

Their fingers laced together, and she felt the cool metal of his wedding ring against her skin. What would Angela Jane say if she knew what her husband was doing right now? Lisbon didn't believe in ghosts, but she did believe in heaven and hell. Was she going to be sentenced to eternal damnation for feeling this way about a man who was, at least in his own mind, still married to someone else?

"You knew before I did, didn't you?" she asked, after a moment. "How I felt about you."

If the rest of the office had noticed, surely he must have done too. Must have seen the way she looked at him sometimes when she thought he wasn't looking, listened in to her impassioned defences of him against Hightower, LaRoche, Bertram, Wainwright, or anyone else who threatened to take his job away. Must have connected the dots and seen the truth before she was even conscious of what she'd been doing. And he'd never said a word.

"Yes."

"You never said anything."

"I wanted to give you a chance to change your mind. Aim higher, if you will."

She moved around so she was looking straight into his eyes. "Is this your way of saying you regret this?"

He gently stroked her cheek. "Don't be silly. You are the best thing that could possibly have happened to me. Don't ever doubt that for a second. I just want you to be sure of what you're getting into."

"Patrick," she said, in sudden annoyance. "I know you better than anyone else on this planet. I know your dirty little secrets. You can't talk me out of loving you; it's too late for that. We are what we are. Accept it."

They didn't speak any more after that. Lisbon wasn't foolish enough to think that she had won this argument. No doubt he had only fallen silent in order to formulate further counterarguments to try out at some later point. But she was determined that this time he was not going to have his way. After all, this wasn't just about him anymore.

Lisbon was the first to awaken the next morning. The rising of the sun had made it uncomfortably hot under the covers, where she'd been lying wrapped in her consultant's arms for what had remained of the night. She also discovered that her prediction had been correct: she did have one hell of a headache this morning. It felt as if someone was beating the inside of her head relentlessly with a sledgehammer. Thud. Thud. Thud. Damn Jane and his cheap-ass wine.

She gently nudged his arm aside and sat up, trying not to disturb him, as she felt her body slowly coming back to full consciousness. The last few times she'd been in a situation like this, she had looked back at her companions and wondered what on earth she'd been thinking.

Today, she glanced back at Jane with an air of quiet triumph. After wanting him for so long, and spending years convincing herself that there was no way in hell he'd ever want her back, she savoured the fact that he was hers, all hers. For the first time in a week she could look at him without picturing that bitch Lorelei all over him, sinking her claws into him with Red John watching over her shoulder.

Jane slept on as she surveyed his face in the soft illumination filtering through the blinds. This was a sight she could easily get used to seeing first thing in the morning, and she'd do all in her power to ensure its continuance. Her heart wrenched with mingled love and fear for him. He was still in danger. She knew Red John wouldn't rest until Jane was either turned or dead, but let the serial killer and his trollop come and do their worst; they'd have to get through her first.

She decided to hold off on waking him for a few minutes more; he needed all the sleep he could get after his six months on the run. She slipped silently out of the bed, suddenly and awkwardly aware of her nakedness, and all but ran to the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

If there was one thing she enjoyed about trips out of town it was the opportunity to take ridiculously long showers completely guilt-free, while someone else picked up the water bill. So she indulged herself in the longest shower she'd had since she was a teenager, not caring that the whole bathroom was soon engulfed by swirling steam, or that the mirror on the medicine cabinet was so fogged up she'd be fortunate to ever see her face in it.

She thought she heard the click of the door again over the pounding of the water, but couldn't be sure until a dark shape resembling Patrick Jane became discernable through the mist.

She let out a little cry of indignation, turned off the water, and grabbed for the towel hanging over the top of the shower frame. After wrapping it securely around herself, she turned a stern expression towards the man watching her, wearing his boxer shorts and grinning from ear to ear.

"Patrick Jane," she said, crossly. "Do you have any comprehension of personal boundaries?"

He winked at her. "I seem to have developed a new partiality for the combination of you and bodies of water. And in lieu of another moonlight swim, this will do nicely."

"You know I don't need my gun to cause you serious pain, right?" she said.

"Yes, yes of course," he said waving a hand dismissively. "I'm sure your aptitude for barehanded combat knows no bounds. But would it help if I mention again how irresistible you look when you're wet?"

She tried her best to keep the anger and outrage on her face, but felt her scowl giving way to a smile, and that irritating blush colouring her face (though if he asked, she'd blame the hot water.)

"You're a shameless man," she said.

He smirked. "Makes you want me, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "We really don't have time for this. We have an appointment with a certain serial killer's girlfriend."

"We can be a little late, it's not like she's going anywhere."

"Patrick, the time we've got to make this happen is limited enough as it is," she pointed out. "Do you really want to cut it down even more?"

She knew she was getting to him, even as he tried not to let her see it. No matter how things had developed between them, the fact remained that they had come to Death Valley with a purpose, and she knew what would happen if they didn't achieve it. Red John was probably even now moving to dispose of Lorelei, and when he did, they'd be back to where they always were, at a dead end and clueless about his next move. She didn't think her consultant could handle that. She certainly wasn't keen on the idea of being put through six months of misery and having nothing to show for it in the end.

The smirk on his lips faded, and he reached out to smooth her wet hair back.

"You're right of course. We have a job to do and we shouldn't forget that."

The words sounded hollow, as though he didn't really believe them at all, but perhaps he was just thinking, or tired. After all, the last few days had been long and exhausting and last night, sleep hadn't exactly been high on the agenda.

"Just focus on her for now," she said. "We've got all the time in the world to sort out us."

The smile returned. "Us?" he said. "We're an 'us' now?"

Her first instinct was to apologize for her presumption, take it back, but as he grinned at her some more she fought down the impulse. Instead, she squared her shoulders and stared him down.

"You said you loved me. I think that's evidence enough. Unless that's what you say to all the girls to get them into bed."

"What can I say, it's the ultimate pick-up line," he quipped, but became serious again when her stony expression didn't change. " Teresa," he said gently. "I don't have a lot of love for anything anymore, but what I do have is all for you. Please believe that."

She saw the truth in his eyes as he said this. She leaned towards him for a tender kiss that was warmly reciprocated, and then the towel was falling away to the floor, his boxer shorts following shortly afterwards, and she felt him shuffling her backwards until they were both in the shower.

"I thought I told you no," she said, with a small laugh as he turned the water back on. With a small growl, he pushed her against the wall, and pinned her there as the hot water streamed down upon both of them.

"You did," he said. "But I never was much good at doing what I'm told."

He moved against her slick form, the water drumming a steady tattoo against the glass of the shower frame. He kissed her with such deep passion, she almost felt her knees buckle and was grateful he was pressed so close to her as to hold her up.

The steam was rising again, like a misty veil, obscuring her vision. She couldn't see him clearly anymore, but she could still feel his hands wandering all over her body and his lips nipping softly at hers, almost mockingly, daring her to resist him.

"Patrick," she moaned. "Stop."

"See, there you go giving me orders again," he said. "You really need to learn your lesson."

She cried out as his fingers traced the curve of her hips, with a feather-light sensation, teasing and tickling until she was begging him to stop, that she couldn't bear it anymore. Her cries were becoming louder, her breathing shallower and she had the odd thought that her pupils must be dilated beyond their limits.

"Tell me you love me," he said. "And all of this stops."

"That's blackmail. I won't do it," she said, as firmly as she could manage while writhing in ecstasy.

"Suit yourself," he hissed into her ear. "I could do this all day."

He kissed her hard and long, her back against the wall and his thigh between her legs. Her arms curled around his neck as he kissed every last vestige of oxygen out of her, leaving her struggling for breath.

Her resolve lasted for a grand total of sixty-five seconds, and then she was screaming it out over the water flow, hating herself for giving in, and hating him for making her. And all of a sudden, he was backing away from her, pushing open the shower door, meaning to exit. She grabbed his arm with such strength it made him wince, and pulled him back towards her.

"Oh, no you don't," she purred. "Didn't anyone ever teach you to finish what you start?"

He made his eyes wide and innocent. "I'm sorry, dear, but you said we were in a hurry."

Her fingers tightened on his arm. She felt out of control, animalistic, and she wasn't about to let him drive her this crazy, but leave her unsatisfied. "Well then lets skip the niceties, and get right to the point."

"Glad to be of service," he said, and then she was pushed back against the wall again.

"Oh…Patrick."

A succession of moans, which gave way to cries, and cries to all out screams echoed around the bathroom as the water continued to thunder around them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Are you feeling all right, Lisbon?" asked Agent Darcy. "You look a little flushed."

They'd finally reached the prison just before ten. It had taken a little longer to get ready this morning as her hair had been frizzed out by the steam in the bathroom, not to mention Jane's frequent reappearances at her side under various pretences had not helped to keep a steady hand while applying her makeup. She'd messed up her mascara three times before losing her patience and ordering him out. However, on the upside, the early morning ravishing had totally negated the need for blusher; she'd been glowing quite enough.

The sun was just beginning to bake the surrounding landscape, and the temperature was creeping up minute by minute as they took shelter in the air-conditioned building.

"Yes," she answered the FBI agent. "I'm fine. It must just be the heat."

Susan nodded her head sympathetically. "Terrible isn't it? I don't think I got a wink of sleep last night."

"Neither did I," put in Jane, with a totally straight face. Lisbon shot him a warning look, and he winked back at her.

"So," said Darcy, briskly. "Shall I have the guards bring the guest of honour to interrogation?"

"Actually, no," said Jane, all seriousness again. "It's actually you I wanted to speak to today. I have an idea."

"And you couldn't just call me up and tell me?" she asked. "You two dragged yourselves all the way out here?"

"It's complicated," Jane hedged. "A bit unethical…possibly a little bit illegal."

"Oh, I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"We thought it would be best if we all discussed it face to face," Lisbon said in a rush. "Just to make sure we're all on the same page. Is there somewhere we can sit down and talk it over?"

Darcy looked suspicious, but gestured to a door at the end of the hall. "The guard's break room is through there," she said. "They're all on duty right now; it'll be empty."

"Perfect," said Jane, with a smile. "Tea would hit the spot."

Sitting around a small round table, Jane described his plan of a staged attack to Agent Darcy. Lisbon watched the other woman's face go from shock, to outrage, to setting her mouth into a thin line, that became thinner still the more he talked.

"I feel like we've been going around in circles these past few days," said Jane. "We need to shake her up a bit, put the fear of God into her, so to speak. No offense," he added to Lisbon, glancing at the crucifix around her neck. She rolled her eyes.

Darcy looked from Jane to Lisbon, and then back again.

"You're mad," she said, with an air of slight wonderment. "I always thought you were a little off center, Patrick, but it's more than that, you're insane. And Agent Lisbon, you're condoning this ludicrous plan?"

Jane opened his mouth to retort, but Lisbon silenced him with a hand on his arm.

"Red John should have acted by now," she said. "With all his other friends and accomplices, we had them in custody less than a day before they were killed. We've had Lorelei for nearly a full week; if he was coming for her, he would've done it already."

"Which means we have plenty of time to get her to talk," said Darcy, clearly not spotting the problem.

"She won't," said Jane. "The only reason Red John would let her still be alive is if he was certain that she wasn't going to cave in. He's got her well trained. She truly loves him, and is truly devoted to him. We can poke and prod at her until the cows come home, but she won't talk."

"And so, obviously, the next step would be physical violence against her," said Darcy, sarcastically. "And who do you propose to be this attacker?"

"Well, that's why we came to you," said Jane. "We were hoping you might be able to help us out with that. Use your contacts at the FBI and find somebody we can trust to bring in on the play. Oh, and incidentally," he added. "I need you to provide me with the personnel records of all the guards employed here."

"Why?"

"Something Lorelei said yesterday during her interview with Lisbon. I need to be sure that they're all on the level, and aren't going to be running to Red John and blabbing about what we're up to."

"None of the people who work here have anything to do with Red John, or any other criminal," said Darcy. "They were all personally vetted by the warden before they were given the job."

"But they haven't been personally vetted by me. I've been studying Red John for a decade, Susan. I know how he operates, how he hunts, and how he kills. Nobody knows him better than I do. And I'll need the warden's file too," he said, as an afterthought.

"Patrick, those files are confidential," she said, tersely. "I can't just go and demand them from somebody without a warrant or probable cause, particularly not on the say-so of somebody who isn't technically even law enforcement, and even if I could, I wouldn't. I know these men. The idea of them being a mole for Red John is ridiculous. I can vouch for each and every one of them."

"An admirable sentiment," said Jane dismissively. "But I'm afraid your good opinion counts for very little when dealing with Red John. His disciples are all highly skilled in deception. Grace Van Pelt was actually engaged to one before we tricked him into showing his true colours. He was an FBI agent too, if you'll remember."

Darcy's nostrils flared with indignation, so Lisbon stepped in.

"We understand that this case is the FBI's now," she said, calmly. "But the fact is, we were dealing with Red John long before the Bureau got involved. With all due respect, you need us on this. Jane is the leading expert on that bastard, and the rest of us aren't that far behind. Use us."

Darcy regarded them both for a moment, considering.

"It so happens that I know a judge around here; an old friend," she said. "I should be able to get a warrant for those files. Let me just make a quick call, and see if he's in."

She slipped out of the room, drawing a cell phone out of her pocket as she did. When she returned a minute later, it was with a grim smile on her face.

"He's faxing through the warrant right now," she said. "But he's only giving you permission to see the files, you can't take them away with you, or make copies or anything like that. They'll have to remain here. But you can use this room for as long as you want."

"That's fine," said Jane. "We've got all day."

After beginning the day on such a high, Lisbon couldn't help feeling it was a bit of an anticlimax to spend the greater part of it buried in paperwork, almost if they were home and working on another case.

The warden had brought in a large cardboard box containing thirty manila folders, all the while complaining about the insult of he and his men being treated as suspects for simply trying to do their jobs.

"You cops might be the ones who catch the scum of the earth," he said, setting it down with a thud. "But we're the ones who have to see their filthy faces every day and listen to their whining and complaining, for no credit and next to no pay."

Naturally, Jane had taken it upon himself to make the situation worse by asking the warden how long it had been since he'd flunked out of the police academy, and if he felt threatened by the sight of a woman achieving what he could not. The warden had actually absorbed these jibes surprisingly well (Lisbon had a feeling that Darcy had prepped him on what to expect before he came inside) and he pushed the box across the table at Jane and stomped out of the room, returning with another box which he dumped on the table in front of Lisbon.

"Begging your pardon, Officer," he said, sarcastically, as she scowled at him.

"It's Agent," she corrected him, crisply.

"Narcissist," hissed Jane under his breath as the warden sloped out the door, slamming it behind him.

They trawled through file after file, through names and dates and marital statuses and exam results, looking for any kind of red flag such as an association with a known criminal or any unexplained leave of absence.

"This one," said Jane, presently. "Corbin Miller. It says here he's got a sealed juvie record."

"So?" said Lisbon, as she tossed aside Stephen Waitrose's file. "Cho's got one of those too, and he's no serial killer's apprentice."

"Not everybody turns out like Cho," said Jane patiently. "It takes serious willpower to want to turn your life around, and not everyone's got it. Look, I'm not saying this guy's definitely the one, but I think it's something we should look into."

"Darcy said the warden vetted everybody before he hired them. Surely it would have come up in the interview."

"Meh, Red John could have coached him in what to say. Can we get the team to do a more thorough check on Miller? See if Grace can't dig around and unseal those sealed records? Juvenile hall would be the ideal place for Red John to find disciples. Get them while they're young, gain their trust, train them up and put them into jobs where they'll be the most useful to him."

Lisbon cringed at the thought. Juvenile hall was supposed to be a place for kids to clean up their act, not become pawns for a sociopath. But the more she thought about it, the more Jane's theory made sense.

"I'll get the team on it," she said. She put in a quick call to Cho, who told her he'd get Van Pelt on it right away, as their case was almost closed.

"But do it subtly," she told him. "We know Red John has tapped into the DOJ network once, there's no saying he won't do it again."

"You got it, boss." He rang off.

"Team closed their case," she reported to Jane as she put her phone away.

"Good on them," he said, perusing yet another file. "But you must have been confident that they could do it, or you wouldn't have left them to come here."

"Of course."

There was a disturbance outside the door, with some muffled whispering and several people visible through the small window.

"We seem to have gained an audience," he said, nodding towards them. "No doubt our good friend the warden has made it his business to tell all his men what we're doing."

"It's understandable," said Lisbon. "If a little unprofessional." She reached for the next file with a small sigh of annoyance.

"They shouldn't take it so personally," said Jane, sucking his finger, which had just received a paper cut. "When it comes to Red John, the only people I trust 100% are you, and our team."

"What about Darcy?" she asked.

He shrugged. "She's getting there, but I don't forget that she accused me of being Red John, not to mention she turned Wainwright against me."

"To be fair, you did a pretty good job of that yourself," she remarked. "You were lucky Cho and Rigsby were there to hold him back the day he fired you, or he would've beaten you to a pulp."

He smiled. "You wouldn't have let him hurt me."

"Not seriously, but I might have let him get in a punch or two," she said. "You were incredibly rude to him."

"Poor Luther," he sighed. "Whatever his faults, he didn't deserve what happened to him."

"They never do."

The door opened and Darcy stepped through it. "Found anything?" she asked.

"Not really," lied Jane, smoothly, and Darcy gave a satisfied smile.

"I thought not," she said. "I told you that you were wasting your time with this."

"Ah well. No stone unturned and all that," said Jane. "You can go ahead and tell the warden we're done with these if you like."

"I will," she said. "Now would you like to see Lorelei?"

Jane shook his head. "Let's leave it for today," he said. "Let her wonder why I haven't come back, it'll mess with her head, put pictures in her mind."

"I think you two put enough pictures in everyone's minds yesterday," said Darcy, slyly. At their alarmed looks, she grinned at them. "The guards told me what happened at the end of your interview."

"Oh," said Lisbon in a small voice. "Well I guess that makes one less person we have to hide it from."

"For what it's worth, I wish you two luck," she went on. "Though maybe you should confine it to your motel room in the future. I doubt the CBI would be as understanding as me."

"Thanks for the tip, Susan," said Jane.

They left the prison twenty minutes later with Darcy begging them not to embark on any of what she called "Jane's Hail Mary passes" without speaking to her about it first.

Lisbon lead the way to the car as though she wanted to put as much distance between herself and the prison as quickly as possible. But when she reached the SUV, instead of turning the car on, she set the keys on the dash and massaged her temples with both hands.

"Headache?" asked Jane, remembering her complaint from last night.

"Yes," she said. "But mostly humiliation."

"Humiliation?" he said. "Because of what Darcy said?"

"Of course," she said. "What must she think of us now?"

"I don't really care," said Jane. "I'm more concerned about what Red John thinks. If there really is a mole in that prison, they'll have told him all about it by now."

She started the engine and nosed the car out of their parking spot.

"And?" she said.

Jane glared at her. "Lisbon, are you familiar with the term 'sitting duck?'" he snapped. "If there was a target on your back before, it just became a big red bullseye."

Lisbon said nothing. This was hardly new information, after all. She knew she must be second only to Jane himself on Red John's 'To Kill' list. She was just counting on the hope that they would get to him first.

They drove on in silence for a while, as the radio twittered away with voices, advertisements, and every so often a song or two.

"Maybe we should cool things between us for a while," Jane said, as the closing bars of Queen's 'Bohemian Rhapsody' died away.

"What?" she said, accidentally punching the accelerator a little too hard in her shock and making the car shoot forwards from an intersection like a bullet from a gun. As she struggled to regain control, Jane went on.

"I'll never forgive myself if something were to happen to you," he said. "And if it came about because I put my own selfish desires above your safety…"

She groaned. "For the love of God Jane, not this rubbish again. You can't keep putting your life on hold because of what Red John might do. You don't even know for sure that there is a mole in the prison."

"But what if there is?" he persisted. "Red John could take you away from me at any time. He could cut you up in your bed, or kidnap you and turn you into a vegetable like Kristina Frye, or who knows what else?"

He stopped talking as the two images sprang into his mind. Lisbon, dead in her motel room, slashed to pieces, toenails painted with her own blood, a smiley face on the wall behind her, followed by Lisbon in a darkened room, unharmed but unresponsive, with a blank stare and no recognition of him at all. Still as a statue for all eternity like his friend Kristina. Either way, she'd be lost to him forever. Which would be worse? He couldn't decide.

"That's a possibility whether we're together or not," she said. "You said yourself that Red John thinks I'm your Achilles heel. Do you really expect him to stop thinking that just if we stop sleeping together?"

"No, but I don't want to continue giving him added incentives to come after you. There are too many as it is already!"

With a sigh, Lisbon flicked on the indicator and pulled over to the side of the road, sending dirt and pebbles flying and releasing a cloud of dust into the air. She turned off the engine, and the radio went instantly dead, leaving a ringing silence around them.

"Patrick," she said quietly. "No matter what you do, there is no way to guarantee my safety anymore. But if we're going to be together, it means we're together on everything, including taking down Red John."

"I can't let you-" he began, but she cut him off.

"You don't get it, do you? This isn't just about you anymore. I know you're used to being a one-man show, but those days are over. And if you're not ready to accept that, you need to tell me right now. I know what I'm getting into," she said. "I've always known, ever since I realized I'd fallen for you. And I'm willing to fight for us. Are you?"

Sorry about the cliffhanger, but what's a story without conflict? Please don't kill me, but have faith that Donna will fix things between our beloved Jisbon. Hope you enjoyed.