Author's Note: I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas or whatever holiday you celebrate! Thanks so much for all the reviews and alerts, because they really do inspire me. I can hardly believe what started out as a rambling episode tag is still holding people's interest. A warning though: I think my muse had too much eggnog over the holiday. That, or Red John got to her too. But at least she was more generous with the word count this time out!

Chapter 13

"I could get you some groceries," Grace offered after looking around Lisbon's kitchen. "I mean, you didn't know how long you would be gone, so it makes sense that you didn't buy much food before you left."

Jane smirked a little at the assumption that Lisbon ever bought much food, but he was heartened by her response. "Thanks, Grace. But I'm not sick. I can go to the store after work."

Cho, Rigsby, and Grace all looked at Jane, who felt a surge of exasperation. Was he the only one who could get anything done around here? Apparently so. He met Lisbon's gaze and said firmly, "No work for you. You need observation by an expert."

"Oh, for God's sake," Lisbon snapped. "I've already been cooped up with you for days. There's no reason I can't go to work."

"You've had a serial killer messing with your mind," Jane replied. "Take a day off. You must have enough accumulated leave to last you until early retirement at this point."

"Ha, ha. You don't get to decide if I'm fit for work, Jane."

Her combative tone was normal, but the fact that she was wrinkling his suit sleeve in a death grip wasn't. Cho noticed too, folding his arms. "Boss, you aren't acting like yourself. Take a day off, get some rest. If you get sick of Jane, one of us will take him off your hands. If we get a case we can't handle, we'll call."

Lisbon reluctantly agreed and managed to let go of him long enough to see the others to the door, exchanging promises about resting and calling her if they needed her, none of which he judged sincere. The minute the door closed, she was drawn back to him as if connected by an elastic band. She managed to keep from touching him, but her face showed him the strain it cost her. "What did he do to me?" she demanded.

Frightened you, he thought. But he knew better than to say it. "I can't know for sure," he replied with a calm he didn't feel. "But based on your behavior, I'd guess he planted a suggestion that you keep a close eye on me."

She rolled her eyes. "As if I don't normally."

He actually thought the suggestion had something to do with only feeling calm when touching him, but he knew she wouldn't accept that. The less he pointed out her unusual behaviors, the more secure she'd feel. He'd be able to spot any truly suspicious behavior easier that way. If she started second-guessing herself, she'd end up a neurotic mess and he'd never get things sorted out.

He waved a hand in front of her face. "You're not still under hypnosis," he assured her. But of course, Red John couldn't go around hypnotizing all his friends all the time. He had other ways of messing with minds, and he was clever enough, and had been observing him and Lisbon long enough, to have some good ideas about how to alter her thinking.

"Then why do I feel like this?" There was an edge of despair in her voice that sliced right through him.

"It's been a hard day," he began, which made her glare at him for stating the obvious. "I think you just need to decompress a little. Try to relax." He reached for her hands, and some of the tension melted out of her as she quickly twined her fingers around his. He kept his voice soft as he added, "I'm going to help you through this, Lisbon. Tell me what's worrying you, and we'll work through it."

He was almost, but not quite, pleased to see her expression turn mulish at the suggestion that she talk about what she was feeling. "I'm fine. Well, except that now we know Mancini really was one of Red John's friends. I bet we won't see him again." She winced as her head began to hurt.

"Fine with me," Jane said, and meant it. "I told you he wasn't good enough for you."

"No, you didn't."

"Well, maybe not in words," he admitted. "Stop thinking about him, Lisbon. It's not worth giving yourself a headache."

"Says the man who's spent years thinking of nothing else," she grumbled. "I know you think he did something terrible to me, Jane. Otherwise you'd be wanting to hypnotize me yourself to find out what I remember about him."

She had a point, but only because she didn't know about the choice Jane had made only hours ago. And she probably wouldn't believe him if he told her. He was pretty sure the others were skeptical as well, and he couldn't blame them. He had no idea how he was going to hold to his resolution if Red John struck again. He only knew he had to. "I have, from time to time, thought about other things. And other people. And right now I'm only thinking about you."

She looked at him, torn between hope and suspicion. "Why?"

He shook his head in disbelief. "Why am I thinking about you when I spent an eternity of two hours today thinking you might be dead? And that this time nobody would try to tell me it wasn't completely and undeniably my fault? Lisbon." He swallowed, pushing away the images that had tortured him until he saw her again, alive and seemingly untouched. "I told you once that I'm always going to save you. That wasn't a promise to you so much as it was to myself. Because this life means nothing to me without you in it. There is absolutely nothing I wouldn't do to keep you with me as long as I thought there was the merest inkling of a chance you wanted to be. Nothing."

He paused to compose himself after the rush of emotion that had taken them both by surprise. Lisbon frowned. "I've been worried about what he did to me, but obviously I need to be worried about what he did to you, too. What happened, Jane?"

"I don't think I'm supposed to tell you," he replied.

"Tell me anyway," she demanded, in her no-nonsense tone. Her grip on his hands tightened painfully.

He hesitated, wondering if there was a halfway version she'd believe.

"The truth," she insisted.

"He told me I had to choose, you or him. But in the end there really was no choice." He watched her closely to see if he'd been vague enough to avoid the pain response.

Lisbon snatched her hands out of his and clutched at his jacket lapels, drawing his face close to hers and snarling, "Patrick Jane, you tell me the entire and unvarnished truth this instant or I swear to God I will beat it out of you!"

Well, that sounded normal at least, he thought. And her posture indicated she would begin by kneeing him in the balls.

So for once in his life, he did the prudent thing.

mmm

Lisbon dropped to the couch, aghast. She didn't know what part of Jane's story she was most embarrassed about, but if she ever got near Red John she would kill him with her bare hands. A helpless fairy tale princess? Casting Jane as her rescuer? And all in front of her team, who needed to be able to respect her!

But she was probably never getting near Red John, because he'd made Jane promise to give up, and he'd done it. God. The man had turned his back on his one overriding goal, the one reason he'd found for living after losing his family, because she'd been threatened.

It was a toss up as to who was more surprised when she burst into tears. Jane recovered first, moving to sit beside her and slide an arm around her shoulders. He was speaking, but she couldn't make out his words over her sobbing, and after a minute he drew her into a hug and fell silent.

She needed to get herself under control. A few deep breaths helped, and she could feel herself calm down as she let herself notice how warm and comfortable she was wrapped up in Jane's arms, his heartbeat under her palm and his breath stirring the hair on top of her head. She'd been so frightened she might never see him again. She might never have heard his voice or caught a whiff of his spicy cologne again, never seen his grin or the way he looked at her once in a while like she was the most precious thing in the world. She didn't know how she would bear it.

Apparently she wasn't the only one who thought that way. She'd known for years that he wouldn't sacrifice her if he could help it, but she would never have believed he would give up his quest for vengeance for anything or anyone. Perhaps if he'd been given time to think, he wouldn't have, she realized. And when things settled back down and he had nothing to look forward to but cases he had no personal interest in, he might change his mind, or regret his decision. He might even resent her.

Whatever happened, their lives would never be the same. She drew in a watery breath and swallowed hard, pushing down the anxiety she felt at the thought.

Jane murmured, "Do you want to tell me what that was about?"

She let out a long sigh. "I can't believe you did that. I would never have asked you to."

"Lisbon, you're being absurd." He sounded amused and exasperated at the same time. "You've been telling me to move on with my life since the day we met. Now I am. What is there to be sad about?"

"It can't be that easy, Jane." She lifted her head to look at him. "You don't just shrug and walk away from an obsession."

"It's something I've been thinking about for a while now," he said. "Since the belladonna. Part of me has wanted to stop for years, I think. But I couldn't, because I'd promised myself everything would be better after I got Red John."

She winced against the sudden pain the name produced, and Jane pressed a kiss to her hair in apology. "I just needed a good reason," he murmured.

She knew he had no idea how stressful she found the idea of being his reason. She didn't know how to even begin explaining it, either.

"Relax," Jane whispered in her ear. "I know you, Lisbon. I don't expect you to fall into my arms in gratitude and try to give me a new reason for living. No commitment required."

That should have made her feel better, but it didn't. "You say that," she said, "but you've also said this life means nothing to you without me. That sounds like you expect a certain level of commitment."

He sighed. "No more than you've already given me, Lisbon. And I don't need you to do or say anything to reassure me. All right? You already said you love me. That's enough."

She couldn't resist looking up and frowning in what she hoped was a perplexed way. "Wait. I did what?"

Jane's stunned look lasted only long enough for him to blink, but it was worth it. He smiled tightly at her. "Okay, I deserved that. And I'm glad you're feeling calm enough to tease me."

She ducked her head, a little embarrassed. It suddenly seemed petty to tease him when he'd made such a huge sacrifice for her sake. And while he was holding her, trying to make her feel better about it, because she was having a selfish reaction and not thinking about what he was going through.

"No, you didn't," she said. "I'm sorry." She laid her head back on his shoulder and patted him lightly with the hand over his heart.

"It's all right," he said. "You can be as snarky as you want as long as you snuggle with me."

She knew she should sit up, but she was just so comfortable. His arms tightened around her slightly as he read her thought, then relaxed as he realized she wasn't going to follow through on it. "Don't get used to it," she muttered.

"I'd very much like to," he replied softly. "Really, Lisbon, where's the harm? I'm not suggesting that we start cuddling at crime scenes, but in private, on our own time, why can't we do what we want?"

She struggled with a response, unable to find a better reason than, "I'm your boss."

He chuckled. "It won't surprise you to learn that I don't think of you that way. And I've already said I don't expect us to behave differently at work. Anyway, the team won't say anything, since they already got an eyeful today."

She let out a quiet groan at the thought.

"I tried my best to behave, my dear, but your sneaky little fingers made it very difficult."

She fisted her hand and gave him a reproving thump on the chest, but she had no good retort. She remembered needing to touch him, but she hadn't meant it to be sexual. Had she? She'd certainly given the idea some thought since that night in the diner. And she had no doubt he knew that. Her heart sped up as she considered it.

"Slow down," he chuckled warmly in her ear. "You are far too tired for that. You need to sleep at least six hours and eat a good meal."

"You think you're too much for me to handle?" she challenged him.

"It's more that my ego would never recover if you fell asleep while I was doing my best to transport you to a new level of consciousness," he replied.

"Why Jane, I've never known you to suffer from self-doubt before," she said in mock concern. "Maybe you're the one who's not ready."

"I admit, I'd like to be absolutely positive beforehand that there will only be two of us in your bed," he replied soberly.

Her mouth went suddenly dry. She'd been so relaxed that she'd almost forgotten how they'd come to be sitting together (she refused to think cuddling) on her couch. "You do think he did something to me," she accused.

"I think it's likely. He would have wanted some assurance that I wouldn't change my mind. I'm thinking he took your sense of responsibility for me and played on it, so you'd be anxious if I was out of your sight. Since that was already present, it would be easy to exaggerate it."

"But that's not all," she prompted, then swallowed hard and gathered her courage. "The...the way I keep... I feel better when I'm touching you. That's new."

He moved one hand up and began playing with her hair. "Is it? Because I've always felt better when I'm touching you."

The way his fingers moved against her scalp was so soothing, it made her close her eyes and relax against him again. He added, "I think that was always there as well. Perhaps he just lowered your inhibitions a bit." She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Admit it. You've wanted me for a long time. You just didn't want anyone to know it, even yourself."

"You just keep telling yourself that," she retorted. But she knew it was true. Her lonely free hours while he was in Vegas had given her plenty of time to ponder what their relationship had meant to her and what she had wanted from it. But all her resolutions about what she'd do differently if only he would come back had withered in his actual presence. They'd reverted to their old patterns, and it was only sometimes when she looked at him that she remembered the sheer want she'd had to admit, if only to herself.

All this time, she'd been certain that what she felt was unrequited, at least in any practical sense. Jane had other priorities, and he denied himself all but the simplest pleasures, so she reasoned that even if he did want her, he'd never do anything about it. And usually she felt that was for the best, because if he ever set out to seduce her, she had no doubt he'd succeed. He'd come very close at the diner, but she'd panicked and turned to Mancini instead, because there was no chance he was going to shatter her heart like Jane had—and could again at any time.

That was why even in the haze of the moment, she hadn't let herself think it could be more than just a night together, a chance to put her curiosity to rest. But of course that was never going to be all it was. They were too much a part of each other's lives, and there were too many feelings involved, for this to be casual.

And now... Now he needed something to hold on to, something to center him while he tried to build a life that wasn't focused on a single goal. She didn't know if she could be that for him, but she wanted to try.

"Before you get too attached to the script you're writing in your head," Jane said, "let me tell you how the rest of the day is going to go. I'm going to order an early dinner, and then you're going to get some sleep. In the morning I'll cook you breakfast, and we'll see how you're doing."

"You'd better add grocery shopping to your agenda if you're planning to cook breakfast," she said. His plan sounded too enticing to argue with otherwise. Then she drew in a sharp breath and clutched at his shoulder. "You won't leave while I'm asleep, will you? We can go to the store together. We can go right now." She started to sit up, but he wouldn't let go of her.

"I won't leave while you're asleep," he promised. "In fact, I'll be surprised if you can actually fall asleep without hanging on to me to be sure I don't."

"That's what you're talking about when you say we'll see how I'm doing," she realized. She couldn't go back to work if she was going to cling to Jane the whole time. The rumor mill would have a field day, and she could just see them trying to conduct interviews or interrogations while she snuggled up to him and tucked her hand into his pocket. No, she had to stay away from work, and preferably out of public places altogether, until she got herself back under control.

He nodded. "Is there a market nearby that delivers?"

"How the hell would I know?" Honestly, he had to know she wasn't the kind of person who would pay someone to do something she was perfectly capable of doing herself.

"I'll find out. Where are your yellow pages?"

For a second she thought he was joking, then realized he was serious. "I have a better idea."

mmm

A quick internet search revealed that a nearby upscale market offered delivery for what Lisbon thought was a ridiculous fee, considering their overpriced selection. Jane waved away her objections, however, and happily filled his virtual shopping cart. She was definitely going to have to pull out her fat jeans if she let him keep feeding her, she thought.

The delicious quiche he produced for dinner a few hours later was perfect for sending her into a food coma, and she couldn't help yawning even as she insisted on cleaning up. "It's only fair, since you cooked. Besides, you'll load the dishwasher wrong."

"How do you know?" he smiled. "No, let me guess. Because you're the only one who knows how to do it right."

"Right." She shooed him out of the kitchen, keeping her mind on her task and trying to ignore the anxiety gnawing at the edge of her mind. She was curious to see how long she could last. What would be the minimum acceptable timeframe before she could go back to work? Half an hour? An hour? It depended on what they were doing, she supposed. If they were in the field, she could bump up against him while they walked or stood beside each other. That wouldn't be weird; it happened all the time, completely unintentionally. Or...was it? Maybe subconsciously, she did it on purpose, or he did? Or it could even be intentional on Jane's part. He'd said he felt better touching her.

If they were stuck in the office, though, it would be harder. He could prop himself on the corner of her desk, or she could sit beside him on the couch, but not for too long.

She realized her hands were shaking and quickly set the glass she was holding on the counter. She could do this, she told herself firmly. Jane was just in her living room—she could hear him puttering around, no doubt memorizing any changes since his last visit. Then she heard the television come on.

See? she scolded herself. He's fine. He's right there. You could take four steps and see him. Calm down.

What in the world had Red John done to her? She wasn't going to let him turn her into the type of clingy female she despised. She wasn't. She gritted her teeth against the impulse to call out to Jane, holding onto the counter to steady herself. She could do this. She could make it half an hour without seeing him or touching him. Thirty minutes was nothing. She'd already held out for...

Five minutes? Her watch had to be slow. And the microwave clock...that could be wrong too. Somehow. It had to be at least ten! At this rate she wasn't even going to be able to shower without him. Oh...that was a dangerous thought. Very dangerous. For all his talk about wanting to be sure her mind was completely her own before having sex, she was sure she could melt his resolve once they were both naked and wet. God, her knees were weakening just thinking about it.

What was she doing? She shouldn't be thinking up ways to seduce Jane. For one thing, she was his boss. And his friend. And his worst enemy had messed with her head. What if this compulsion was a plot, and she'd been programmed to do something terrible once he was off his guard and vulnerable? She could be an unwitting black widow. God, what if she woke up the morning after and found him dead? How would she live with herself?

She tasted blood and realized she'd bitten her lower lip open. Her teeth were chattering, and she was shaking so hard she was surprised she was still standing.

No. This is not who I am, she thought fiercely. I will stand on my own two feet just like I always have. I will not cry for Jane to come hold me like a frightened child. I don't need him to save me. I don't need anybody to save me.

Had it been ten minutes yet? Her eyes were too watery to read the microwave clock, and she couldn't dislodge her grip on the counter's edge to look at her watch. Would she actually pass out if she kept this up? Was it possible this could harm her? She wasn't sure she could speak anymore.

"Lisbon?" Jane called from the next room. She sucked in a deep breath but didn't reply, and a moment later his arms were closing around her from behind. "Breathe, Lisbon. Close your eyes and listen to your heart slowing back to normal. Breathe in...and out...and you'll be okay. You just have to wait for this to pass. You're safe, and I'm right here."

She managed to calm down enough to speak again. "How did you know?"

"It was too quiet in here. I got worried," he replied.

The thought that she wasn't the only one who worried when they were separated was comforting, and she relaxed against him, releasing her grip on the countertop and wincing at her sore fingers. "How long?" she asked.

"How long what?" he murmured.

"How long was I in here?"

"Not quite ten minutes," he replied. "So that's what this was? You were seeing how long you could go?"

"Yeah," she sighed in disappointment. "I have to work on this. I want to go back to work, but I can't do that until I'm sure I'm not going to end up raiding the men's room because you're taking too long."

He tried to stifle his chuckle at the thought and ended up giving an inelegant snort.

"It's not funny," she muttered.

"Depending on who else was in there, it could be."

She let out a huff, then swallowed. "Every time I get anxious, I start thinking about sex. Did he do that? I never did it before."

"Possibly," he said. "You get anxious, you want to touch me to make sure I'm there with you, and your subconscious helpfully directs your thoughts into an activity that would lead to prolonged touching and would also be an incentive for me to stick around. Since you'd be the one initiating it, it would also help you feel in control." He paused, then mused, "Clever, really. If you weren't quite so stubborn, we both might even have believed it was your own idea."

"So do you..." She swallowed again. "Do you think it would help? Maybe the compulsion is just about the first time and he figured we'd take it from there?"

Jane was quiet for a long time. Then he sighed. "Perhaps. But I don't want our first night together to be about therapy."

"Me either," she agreed. Then she took a deep breath and said, "How does all this work? Doesn't a trigger have to be something he did? When I woke up I didn't feel like I'd had sex, but—"

"No, no," he said, tightening his embrace. "You aren't hypnotized anymore, Lisbon. What's happening now is something he convinced your mind to create for itself. He probably talked to you about how I abandoned you once and would do it again if it gave me a chance to find him. You were under, so you were suggestible. Because I don't think for a minute that you came up with the idea that you could hold me with sex. You're smart enough to know better."

But I could hold you with a child. The thought popped into her mind of its own accord, to her horror. It all made terrible sense now. She wanted to have sex with him so she could get pregnant. Or at least her subconscious did, to fulfill the need Red John had put in her head. Or found and exaggerated. Or whatever the hell he'd done.

She opened her mouth to warn Jane, but no sound came out. Oh, God. No. No, no, no. She was not going to let this happen. Panic seized her.

"Ssh," Jane said, beginning to sway them both back and forth gently. "You just figured it out, didn't you? Don't worry."

He'd gotten there before her. She'd never been so grateful for his quick mind. She slumped against him in relief and asked, "How do we fix this? Will it just go away if I hold out long enough?"

"That depends," he said.

"On what?"

He hesitated before answering, "On how much your subconscious wants it." He dropped a kiss into her hair and released her. "Come on. You need sleep. Things will seem more manageable in the morning."

She turned to face him, knowing her distress was written all over her face. He smiled gently. "And don't worry. Now that we know what we're up against, we can start figuring out what to do about it."

"And you won't let me do anything I'll regret?" She tried not to sound plaintive, but she wasn't sure she succeeded.

He didn't quite keep the smartass grin off his face. "Yes, Lisbon. For once, I will resist temptation, no matter how strong. I promise."