Author's Note: I continue to be in awe of those of you who are so generous with your time and encouragement, even those of you who suspect I might be a bit of a closet sociopath. :) I'll take that as a compliment, since I'm really a boringly normal person. And I'm not taking any credit for Red John—that one's all on Mr. Heller! I could never have invented such a twisted character on my own. I hope. Anyway, I hope you continue to enjoy this story!

Chapter 18

One of the pleasures Jane found in this new life was seeing how far he could entice Lisbon from her routines. The next morning, he was a little surprised at how easy it was to keep her in bed after her alarm went off and then to talk her into showering together, with predictably enjoyable results. They were going to be very late, and he knew it was going to cause comment. But Lisbon didn't seem to care, which was very unlike her.

"What's the matter?" he whispered into her hair as she hugged him at her door, one last embrace before they went out into the world pretending to merely be friends.

"I don't want to go to the funeral," she admitted after a moment.

He pulled back, realizing that she was wearing all black today. She often wore dark colors, so he hadn't assigned any particular meaning to it until now. "You're planning for us to go?"

"Not us. Me," she said. "You despised him, and everyone knows it. If you went, everyone would be trying to find a reason."

"I can't support a friend in her grief?" He didn't like this at all. "At least take someone. Grace, maybe."

"I can actually do things unsupervised," she complained, opening the door. "It will only be a graveside service, so it won't be long."

"Drop me off at my motel so I can pick up my car, then," he asked.

"Where are you planning on going?" She looked worried as they walked to her car.

"I might need to overnight the paperwork back, or something," he replied. "Don't worry, I will be on my couch when you get back from the funeral."

She nodded. "I know you don't want my help, but I'd feel better if you waited to sign anything until I'm there. Just...just for moral support. I know you don't want to do this."

He wondered what she would do if she knew the truth about the buyer. He hoped she never found out, though. There was no need for her to feel any worse than she already did. "All right. I'll be glad of your support. I always am."

"Liar." She grinned briefly at him as she started the car.

"Do you have to go to the funeral? It's not like you really cared about him."

"I started out trying to build goodwill with the FBI. I might as well at least try to keep that going."

He spotted the lie easily. "What's your real reason?"

"You can't tell? I thought I had no secrets left."

She was deflecting. He frowned. "If we hadn't agreed to some pretty dire penalties if we did any investigating on the Red John case, I'd think you were going to see who else turns up."

Her silence told him he was right.

"It's not worth it, Lisbon. Even if Red John himself turned up, he wouldn't identify himself to you. And he and all his friends know that we know what Mancini was. Your going to the funeral will look suspicious, like we aren't keeping up our end of the deal." He reached for her hand. "Teresa. Please think about this. Plead illness, or work, or anything, but don't go to the funeral."

She sighed. "Do you really think this is a bad idea or are you just worried I can't handle it?"

"I really think it's a bad idea," he said truthfully. "We need to keep well away from anything we think is possibly connected to Red John." He noticed the clear signs of a headache forming and squeezed the hand he held. "Including saying his name. Sorry, love."

"No endearments when we're not at home," she scolded.

He smiled. "Who's going to hear us in the car?"

"No one. But if we get in the habit, one day we'll be riding with one of the others and we'll slip up."

"Lisbon, they've seen us kissing. None of them are under any illusion that we're just coworkers."

"Still," she said firmly.

"And you are not off the hook. I am still waiting to hear that you have decided not to go to the funeral," Jane prompted.

"I'm still thinking about it," she replied.

He felt a spurt of anger, but he knew better than to think she would respond positively to that. "Lisbon, I have gone through a great deal trying to salvage something—salvage us—from this mess. I implore you, do not make it all in vain by continuing to look into things that are better left alone."

She glanced at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. He held her gaze, letting her see how much he meant it.

"All right," she sighed. "It's not like I wanted to go. I'll have to find some excuse though."

He grinned at her. "I suggest you be emotionally overwhelmed, and I'll take you for a nice long lunch break."

She gave him a look that said she knew exactly what he was contemplating. "Who's going to believe I was emotionally overwhelmed? We barely dated. We'll have to hope we catch a case."

"Rather than hoping for some poor soul to get murdered in a timely fashion," Jane said, "I could be the one having an emotional crisis. I'll even have paperwork as a prop."

"Now that we can sell," she agreed.

mmm

As it turned out, they caught a new case before Jane even got to the office, and they ended up spending the day two hundred miles from Sacramento interviewing the victim's friends and coworkers. Lisbon was grateful for the ironclad excuse to miss the funeral, as well as to put off the house sale. Mid-afternoon, Jane got a call from Denton and explained the situation, only to find out that the offer had a three-day response requirement. So at least they had some time. It made her wonder if the buyer knew that Jane had an erratic schedule. Maybe Denton had told him.

When Van Pelt called to relay some research, Lisbon said, "By the way, anything turn up on that real estate guy?"

"Uh...Jane didn't want me to look into it," Van Pelt said. "I hadn't gotten very far but he, um, seemed clean. No record. Do you want me to keep digging?"

Lisbon did, but she'd told Jane she'd leave it alone. "No. Never mind. Thanks. Since it's getting late, we're staying the night, but we'll be back tomorrow if nothing breaks."

"Let me know if you need anything," Van Pelt replied before saying good-bye.

Lisbon sighed as she put her phone back in her pocket. She'd been worried about Jane being able to let go, but it seemed she was finding it difficult as well. Maybe Grace and the others were too. She made a mental note to give the team a pep talk when they were all back in the office. It was never easy to let go of a case you'd worked so long, and Grace had a personal reason to want Red John caught. Jane wasn't the only one for whom this was a sacrifice, and she hated being the reason for it. The realization that it was a sacrifice for her too helped only a little.

On the other hand, Jane's house wasn't technically part of the Red John case anymore. Or was it? The idea took her breath away. What if Jane had been angry because Van Pelt had found something? She'd sounded uncertain on the phone. Maybe she'd lied, and she wouldn't do that just because Jane told her to. She'd have to agree with his reasoning.

But Jane wouldn't tell her if she asked him. And it worried her that there was now this huge, important part of his life he felt he had to keep away from her. That wasn't exactly a healthy thing for a relationship. Or for him.

It was late when they finally went to their hotel. Cho and Rigsby went straight to their rooms after agreeing to meet at six the next morning, leaving Lisbon and Jane to negotiate their sleeping arrangements.

"So." Jane stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and rocked back on his heels, his casual air completely false.

"So." There was no need to make this easy, since he thrived on a challenge, she thought. "You should try to get some sleep. Tomorrow's another long day, most likely."

"Yep. You should too." There was an underlying amusement in his tone that told her he was in no doubt about where he was sleeping tonight. "Do you need me to share my sleeping pill supply?"

She was tempted to call his bluff, the smug bastard. But only tempted. "You know how I hate pills."

"Yes." He grinned at her. "There are better ways to fall asleep. We could play a few hands of poker and sip chamomile tea. Or I could lull you to sleep by reciting all of Shakespeare's sonnets in chronological order."

"As long as you don't think there's risk of permanent coma in that last one," she said, pretending to consider. Having Jane whisper sonnets in her ear actually sounded like a great way to pass a few minutes in bed until they found something better to do. At least she'd taken the precaution of getting a room well away from Cho's and Rigsby's.

"I assure you," he said, "you will sleep like a baby. Eventually." They began walking toward her room, and he added, "If the sonnets don't do the trick, I can expound at length on various theories about the identity of Shakespeare's dark lady."

"I was just thinking I needed a good lecture on the sex lives of English poets." Lisbon rolled her eyes and kept walking until she reached her door.

Jane moved up against her as she inserted the key card. "I assure you," he whispered in her ear, "he didn't love his dark-haired lady more than I love mine."

"You think you're a pretty smooth operator, don't you?" she smiled as she pushed the door open, yanking on his lapel to pull him in after her. Then she pushed him against the door to close it, kissing him deeply.

When they broke apart for air, he said, "I don't need to be, since you've already decided how this night is going to go. You wouldn't let me leave even if I wanted to. Hey, you don't get to ruin this vest too! I still haven't gotten the other one repaired."

They struggled briefly, and she snickered at his attempts to simultaneously knock her fingers away and unbutton his vest. "Stop making me sound needy," she commanded. "I'm not."

He stripped off his jacket and vest, smiling. "Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

"Are you going to talk like that all night?" Really, he talked more in bed than all the other men she'd been with combined. "Because it's been a long day and I'm tired."

He chuckled, his fingers going to work on her blouse. "I know you secretly like me talking to you, hearing how my voice gets deeper and rougher, those little tremors I try to suppress but can't, until you finally make me incoherent and the only word I can gasp out is your name."

She couldn't control her shiver. "My last name, usually," she teased him breathlessly, unbuckling his belt.

"Fair is fair, Teresa. You haven't managed to call me by my first name even once. I don't think you're even trying." His grin as he helped her out of her blouse told her he didn't mind that much.

"Maybe I just need more practice." She kicked off her shoes.

He gave her an alarmingly mischievous grin. "Maybe you need incentives. I could stop whatever I'm doing every time you say my last name instead of my first."

"Don't you dare." She summoned up her best glare. He was maddening enough in bed without turning it into some bizarre training session. "My turn on top."

He swept her a bow, then jumped onto the bed to sprawl on his back, wearing nothing but a wide, anticipatory smile. "As my lady wishes."

mmm

Lisbon was pulled out of a deep sleep by Jane urgently calling her name. It took her a minute to realize he was dreaming, and she whispered, "I'm right here, Jane. It's all right."

His breath hitched, then stopped for a long moment. She was about to wake him when he drew in a huge gulp of air and let it out in a sob, reaching out to pull her against him, clutching at her desperately.

"Jane? Are you awake?" she asked, sliding her arms around his neck. "Jane?"

He let out a long, shaky breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm awake. Sorry." But he didn't loosen his grip.

"Bad dream?" she asked as he tucked his head against her shoulder.

"Oh, yeah."

She pressed a kiss into his hair. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No." He kissed her neck, and she felt his stubble scrape against her shoulder.

"Okay." She moved a hand to comb through his curls and gently massage his scalp, hoping to relax him. He was tense, still breathing hard, and she bet he had a fair amount of adrenaline in his system. "It's okay. Just a dream."

About Red John, she guessed. And her, given the fact that he'd called for her and was hanging on to her so tightly. The sad thing was that it probably wasn't an unusual thing for him to dream about; this was just the first time he'd done so since they started sleeping together. "We don't have to worry about him anymore, Jane. Remember? You made a deal with him, and we're safe."

"Right," he muttered against her skin. "Because his word is so trustworthy."

Oh. Of course. Jane was worried he'd make all the sacrifices he could think of to keep her safe, and then Red John would kill her anyway once he had nothing else left. That would be a pretty effective way to destroy him. "Are you worried we didn't think this through enough?" It was something that worried her; Jane had started down this path in the aftermath of panic, and she hadn't been thinking clearly enough to help him or slow him down.

He pulled back to kiss her mouth. "No," he said. "What was there to think about?"

"Oh, come on, Jane. Maybe we could have come up with a better plan than to just give in and do what he wants."

"No, we couldn't. Not with an acceptable risk." He began raining quick little kisses on her face, and she felt the tension in his body change. It seemed she was about to discover what comfort sex with Jane was like.

"We should tell the FBI you're selling your house. They may want to look into it, just in case." She hitched a leg up over his hip to let him know they were on the same page.

"No!" He pulled back and let out an exasperated huff. "Lisbon, what will it take to get it through your stubborn little head? That will look like we're still interested in the investigation. Let the FBI figure it out on their own."

"Okay," she said, anxious to calm him down. But she made a mental note to mention it casually at the next poker game. Hopefully that would be enough to set the FBI on the trail without it being directly connected to them. "You sure you don't want to tell me about it?"

"Nothing to tell," he said hoarsely, rolling her over on her back and thrusting into her.

It was a little uncomfortable, but she was still pretty wet from their initial coupling, and he quickly used his fingers to help her catch up. He didn't last long, and she left her arms and legs wrapped around him, hoping that would help him fall back to sleep.

She was almost back to sleep herself before she realized neither of them had thought to use a condom.

mmm

The next day, Jane woke to find Lisbon already in the shower, the little coffeemaker by the sink gurgling away. He was surprised he'd gotten any more sleep after his nightmare, but waking up to find her right there, safe, went a long way toward dispelling his fear. It certainly worked better than brooding until she made it into the office and he could see that she was all right. Though he'd want to raise the bar on the comfort sex next time. She hadn't even come. And—shit, he'd been in such a hurry to get inside her that he'd totally forgotten the condom.

She knew it, too, he realized as he caught his first glimpse of her. She was fully dressed, which he found disappointing—he'd hoped for a reappearance of the robe if she had to wear anything at all. But it didn't look like she'd gotten back to sleep after his nightmare.

She smiled at him, trying to pretend nothing was wrong. "Good morning. You're welcome to the shower, unless you'd rather go back to your room."

"All my stuff is there, so I have to opt for the walk of shame," he replied. "Sorry I woke you last night."

Her expression changed to concern. "It's all right. I just...I know you think you can't talk to me about any of that. But I hope you'll talk about it to somebody. Cho, maybe."

"I'll think about it," he said, sliding out of bed and beginning the hunt for his clothes while she poured herself some coffee. When he had his pants on, he looked at her again, noting the strain on her face. "Hey. I'm sorry for being careless, too. Are you okay?" Because even if Red John had put the idea of having a baby in her head, he was certain that hadn't been part of her original intentions for them.

She took a sip of her coffee, trying to construct a reply. "I am if you are."

He shrugged on his shirt and went to her, resting his hands on her waist as he kissed her. "I loved being a father. But I don't want to bring any more lives into this situation until I'm sure he's finished with us."

"I know," she whispered. "I feel the same way. But if—"

"If it doesn't turn out that way, I promise I will do everything I can to make sure you are both safe," he assured her.

"I know." She tried to reassure him with a smile. "Hurry up, or you'll miss breakfast."

mmm

The case looked like a long slog, Jane thought. It didn't help that he felt distracted, and Lisbon was too. Just when he hoped they might be finished with this depressing little town for now, Lisbon surprised him. "I'm going to look over the witness statements again," she announced. "Jane, you go look at the crime scene again. Take Cho with you."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you get into trouble when I let you out on your own," she replied.

"No, I meant why go to the crime scene again?"

"Because you barely looked at it yesterday, and I don't want to drive down here again when you realize that." Lisbon folded her arms and dared him to argue with her.

"Fine." He knew what this was about, and it was pointless to resist. So he got into the car with Cho and stared at the scenery until they reached the little patch of trees where the victim had been found. Then the two of them looked around, Cho giving Jane his space. There was only one direction that could be fairly said to have a pleasant view, and Jane ended up staring out at it, thinking.

Eventually Cho came to stand beside him. "You see something?"

"Not yet."

Cho gave it a few more minutes before saying, "I'll be in the car."

"Hang on." Jane grimaced, then said, "Lisbon thinks I need someone to talk to about Red John, since it can't be her anymore. She suggested you."

"Okay." Cho unfolded his arms and nodded. "Makes sense. I don't do hugs, though."

"Glad to hear it."

After another silence, Cho prompted, "You got anything you need to say?"

Jane contemplated his options. He was briefly entertained by the thought of Cho's expression if he said I may have knocked up your boss last night. But that would end up causing needless and unamusing trouble. Anyway, he calculated that the odds of conception, given his knowledge of Lisbon's cycle, were slim. He settled on a less controversial but still true statement. "I don't want Lisbon to worry."

"So if she asks, you want me to tell her we talked."

"In a nutshell."

"Okay." Cho looked around a moment more, then said, "If you ever do need to talk, I'll listen. It can't be any worse than listening to Rigsby talk about Van Pelt. Just one condition."

"Which is?" Jane was both amused and horrified by the implication that he would discuss Lisbon with anyone.

"If you ever make me picture our boss in an unprofessional way, I may have to hit you."

"Fair enough. That's nothing compared to what Lisbon would do if she thought I was discussing her in an unprofessional way," Jane grinned.

They walked back to the car, and once they got in, Cho added, "She's going to ask me if I think you're going to do anything stupid. If I tell her no, you won't make me a liar, will you?"

"I never do anything stupid," Jane informed him. "But to answer the question you meant to ask, I am not conning you or her. I'm doing my best to honor the deal. Whether Red John intends to do the same is the question."

"Yeah." Cho drove in silence for a few miles. "This deal doesn't really include the rest of us."

"Yes, it does. Because he won't believe I'm not behind any digging you do. If you value Lisbon's life, don't risk it."

"Okay."

Jane rubbed at his eyes. He wanted a nap, but the sheriff's office was sorely lacking in couches. Maybe on the ride home. "I know it's tempting to think he might be getting sloppy while he's taunting me, but any clues he leaves are on purpose. He wants me to go back on the deal, to know that I killed her out of selfishness. It's not going to happen."

"We're with you," Cho assured him.

mmm

It was late by the time Lisbon got home. She hadn't wanted to leave Jane at the office, but they couldn't be seen leaving together all the time. And he'd handed her the unopened FedEx package on her way out, so at least she didn't have to worry he was trying to deal with selling the house on his own.

They needed to get it over with, though. They couldn't keep being distracted. Though she was proud of herself for handling their separation well today—in fact she had hardly noticed him being gone until he'd called to check on her on his way back—they weren't up to their usual standards, and she didn't want to let this affect their case closure rate. They needed to get back to normal. She needed to get back to normal and stop leaning on Jane so much. Especially now that he felt he couldn't lean on her in return.

She thought that was one of the hardest things for her to accept. Being Jane's sole confidant was a role she valued; Jane was such a perceptive and discriminating judge of character that she had taken his trust as no small compliment. She was glad to know he loved her, but she was grieving for the loss of his trust when it came to Red John. And she was not at all sure they could build a future without his full trust. If their new relationship fell apart, and they couldn't revert to being trusted friends, what would be left for them?

Her attempt to compensate by enlisting Cho, someone else Jane could trust, had the unpleasant side effect of making her feel excluded. It had only occurred to her after the two men had returned, but she couldn't expect Cho to betray Jane's confidence by reporting to her. She had to accept that there was now a conspiracy of silence surrounding her, for her own good. It galled her, and it made her worry that it would affect her ability to lead the team.

She could get over this, she assured herself. Knowing that the team didn't talk to her about a case they weren't investigating was something she could learn to live with. In time, Red John and all they'd done to try to catch him would fade into the past. Maybe not soon, and certainly not easily, especially for Jane, but it would happen eventually.

The knock at the door was a welcome distraction, and she hurried to open it, only to find a bottle of champagne being waved in her face. She took it so she could get a glimpse of Jane. "What's this for?" she asked.

"Why Lisbon. We're celebrating, of course. Half the building knows I've had a terrific offer on the house. By now even Bertram's probably heard. Tomorrow I plan to bring in a huge box of gourmet pastries so everyone can celebrate with me."

"And who, exactly, are you trying to fool?" she asked softly, closing the door behind him.

"Whoever's looking," he replied. "You haven't read it yet?" He picked up the cardboard envelope, still sealed.

"It's not addressed to me," she replied. "Do you really plan to drink this?"

"Yes. But not until after dinner. While I cook, do you mind looking that over to make sure I'm only selling the house and not everything I own?" He went into the kitchen and began assembling ingredients.

"Sure." She sat down on the couch and ripped the envelope open, then began to read. Listening to many minutes of chopping sounds, she hoped Jane was taking out some of his frustration on her cutting board. Then she heard sizzling and realized that a stir fry was probably fitting, given his mood.

After dinner, Jane insisted on uncorking the champagne. As she accepted her glass, Lisbon said, "If you want something stronger—"

"I'll let you know. But it's harder to be a morose drunk with champagne," he said cheerfully. "A toast, my dear."

She held up her glass. "To what?"

"The end of an era?" he suggested.

Lisbon shook her head. "To the bravest man I know."

mmm

Jane didn't feel the least bit brave as he sat at Lisbon's table and contemplated the pile of papers with the helpful "sign here" sticky tabs. In fact, he felt sick to his stomach. Maybe the third glass of champagne had been a mistake.

"Can I borrow a pen?" he asked.

Lisbon handed him the pen she carried to take notes with, but he gave it back. "Something disposable?"

She went to the kitchen and spent some time rummaging through a drawer, then came back with a cheap ballpoint with teeth marks on the end. She seemed embarrassed as she held it out. "Will this do?"

"Perfect," he said.

She hovered uncertainly for a moment, then said, "I know you hate it when people stand over you. Just yell if you need me."

"Thanks." He gave her a genuine smile, grateful for her perceptiveness.

It was harder to do than he'd thought. It was just signing his name, and in many places just signing his initials, but he couldn't keep from thinking about what it meant, how excited he'd been when he'd filled out the paperwork to buy the house, and how, somewhere probably not far away, Red John would gloat when he saw these penstrokes, knowing what they had cost him.

Another thought struck him. The money he would receive as a result of this sale would be Red John's. The thought of using it to buy someplace to live made his stomach turn. No. He would find some other use for that money, and he'd start fresh. He'd think of some way to explain it to Lisbon, or else he'd go amass a down payment at a casino somewhere so she'd never notice.

"You okay?" she asked gently, noticing that he'd stopped.

"Fine," he said, but he knew his voice gave him away. She wouldn't come close until he invited her, though; he could always depend on Lisbon to appreciate the need to lick his wounds in private.

The last signature was the hardest, and it took him a long time. The page had water spots in a couple of places when he was done, but he didn't care. Let Red John know he had wept over this, but still done it. Maybe it would be enough for him, dissuade him from torturing them further.

He straightened the papers by banging the bottom edges on the table, the noise startlingly loud in the silence. Then he shoved them into the pre-addressed cardboard envelope that had been folded up with them, tore off the protective strip over the adhesive, and sealed it shut with a trembling fist.

"Where's the nearest dropbox?" he asked, when he was sure his voice would be steady.

Lisbon looked up, and even across the room he could see the pain in her eyes when she saw his expression. "The shopping center two blocks over."

"The one on Cedar?" He got to his feet.

"Yes. Do you want me to come—" She broke off as he shook his head.

"I could use a walk. I'll be back shortly."

mmm

The walk did seem to do him good; he looked more himself when she opened the door to him this time. Lisbon was more relieved than she wanted him to know. It had occurred to her more than once that perhaps this time he wasn't coming back. There was more than one way to give up, after all.

She'd put some water in the tea kettle, so she went to turn on the heat. He looked like he needed a cup of tea. She'd even unpacked and washed some of her mother's china cups and saucers so he wouldn't have to use a mug. Though in his current state, she wasn't sure he'd notice.

But when she set the steaming cup of lapsang souchong in front of him at the table, he inhaled deeply and smiled up at her.

"I threw the pen out," she said. "And then I realized it was time to take the trash out, so I did that too." Among several other household chores, but she wasn't going to mention the fierce scrubbing she'd given the bathroom.

"You are peerless among women, Teresa," he sighed, lifting the cup to his lips and sipping.

He didn't want to be touched, she could see. She might have put the good sheets on the bed for no reason. Deciding to leave him to his thoughts, she went in search of more tasks to keep herself from becoming too anxious. Dusting or vacuuming would be too distracting to him, she thought. Laundry probably would, as well.

Her eye caught on her holster, where she'd set it on the coffee table earlier. She could clean her gun—that would pass a few minutes quietly, and it needed done. She gathered her supplies on the coffee table, since her dining room table was currently occupied, and unholstered her gun.

"Lisbon!" Jane's shout startled her, and she snapped the muzzle up toward the ceiling once she failed to spot any immediate danger.

"What—" she began as he crossed the room and grabbed her wrist.

There was a brief struggle; Jane was stronger than he looked. She was afraid he'd break her wrist without realizing it, caught up in whatever madness had gripped him. Despite her desperate attempt to break free, their battle ended with the gun pointed at Jane's heart, safety off. Lisbon froze, shocked, as he snarled, "If you're going to fire that, you better point it right here."

She barely dared to breathe. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she said gently, "Jane, I want you to slowly and carefully remove your hands so I can put the safety back on. I'm not going to fire my weapon. I promise."

He was breathing hard, but the crazed light in his eyes faded, and he stared at her for a moment before releasing his grip.

Lisbon put the safety back on and quickly unloaded the gun, setting everything back on the coffee table before straightening back up to demand, "What the hell was that? You could have been killed!"

"I—I thought you were—" He blinked, then swallowed. "What were you doing with your gun?"

"Cleaning it," she snapped, her fear heating to fury. "What did you think I was doing?"

He rubbed at his face. "I wasn't thinking straight. Sorry."

How could such a smart man be such an idiot, she wondered. "You thought I was going to shoot myself with you sitting across the room? God, Jane! You know me better than that! If I was going to shoot myself—which I told you before, I think is a sin—you'd never find me until it was too late. And your solution to my supposed suicidal impulse is to make it into a murder/suicide? Are you out of your mind?"

"I think I might be, a little, yes." He dropped to the couch and buried his face in his hands.

Lisbon tried to calm down, but she wanted to strangle him. Did he think her mental state was really so fragile? Why on earth would she kill herself just because he'd sold his house? She felt bad for him, but she didn't think she'd blighted his life or anything.

"Next time you drink three-quarters of a bottle of champagne I'm going to handcuff you to something," she muttered. "We apparently need to have a very serious conversation, but I can see you aren't in your right mind. Go drink your tea, and—" She looked over to find tea puddling on her table. "If you broke my mother's china I will break your fingers!"

"I don't think I did. I just put it down a little hard. Your mother's china?" Jane looked over at the table.

"I know how you despise mugs," she said.

He shook his head. "I am sorry, so sorry, Lisbon. Just...can we forget this night ever happened?"

"I'd love to, given how hurtful I find your lack of faith in me," she retorted. "But tomorrow, when you're sober and I no longer want to kill you, we will talk about this. And about what will happen to you if you ever, ever try to take my weapon off me again."

He looked miserable. She stared down at him, unsure what to do. She was honestly afraid to banish him to the couch in his current frame of mind, but she didn't feel like climbing into bed with him as if she didn't want to scream at him at the top of her lungs.

"It's not a lack of faith in you," he said slowly. '"I'm angry and worried, and I want to tell you why but I can't. I feel trapped, but not by you. You're the last person I want to hurt, but you're the person I'll always hurt the most, because despite everything, you care about me. I'm sorry."

She dropped to the couch, letting her breath out with a whoosh. "Van Pelt lied to me, didn't she? The buyer's connected to Red John somehow."

He frowned and looked away. Lisbon gaped at him. "And you still went through with it? Jane!"

"What was I supposed to do, Lisbon? Let him know we knew, or let him think I wasn't serious? I wish Van Pelt hadn't found the connection, or hadn't told me, but she did. So I did what I had to do. And I hope you've learned a lesson about going near anything to do with him again."

Lisbon realized that she had inadvertently made this much worse for Jane. "I'm sorry. God, Jane. I didn't mean to make this harder. If I hadn't asked Van Pelt to check him out, you wouldn't have known."

"I think I would have suspected. You did, after all. It was just too fast. He wanted us to know."

"He's not finished with us." She felt panic welling up inside her and pushed it down.

"Maybe he will be now." But Jane didn't sound hopeful.

God, she wanted to touch him, but he was still hunched over defensively. She understood now why he'd panicked; he was frustrated and depressed, and he projected that onto her. Well, she was frustrated and angry, but not depressed. "Jane. I don't know what to say. I don't know what I could ever do to deserve what you did."

He finally met her eyes. His were red and watery. "Lisbon, don't you get it? You already did it. All the times you stood by me, helped me, risked your job for me. For years. It's my turn. It's just...coming in a concentrated dose is all." His mouth tugged into a wry line. "And I'm not being as graceful about it."

She needed to touch him now. Reaching out slowly, she rested her hand lightly on his knee. "I'm sorry this is happening. And I love you."

It wasn't easy for her to say, and he knew it. He took her hand in his.

"We will find our way through this," she tried to reassure him. "And I don't care what you think he put in my head, but I am not leaving you. Not by shooting myself, or poison, or anything else. This is not some Shakespearian tragedy. Tell me you understand that."

"I do," he said after a moment.

The words reminded her how they had committed to each other when he took off his ring. "Will you promise me the same?"

"I'm not leaving you either," he said. "Not for anything. I never want to go through that again. Ever."

"Good." She let out a long sigh. "Let's get some sleep. Things will look better in the morning."

They were halfway up the stairs when he said, "And if someone shows up with security camera footage of me beating up a FedEx dropbox, you won't let them arrest me, right?"

"Jane," she sighed, shaking her head. "What am I going to do with you?"

She was greatly disturbed when he didn't offer any suggestions. When they reached her bedroom, he simply sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at his hands. Lisbon went about her bedtime routine, taking her time, until finally she ran out of things to do and came to stand in front of him.

After a moment, he looked up. "You're getting better. In another week you'll be ready to kick me out."

His eyes belied his teasing tone, and she frowned at him, crossing her arms. "What, is that your way of saying you're tired of cooking for me?"

He reached out and tugged lightly on the hem of her jersey. "There's nothing about you that I'm tired of."

"Good. Because I'm not ready to give up my personal chef. You can't sleep in your suit; get ready for bed."

He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her close so he could bury his face in her jersey. She stroked his hair and said softly, "It's going to be all right."

He let out a gusty sigh, then got to his feet and headed for the bathroom.