Author's Note: I have never sold a house, only bought one, so please forgive any glaring errors I've made in that process. Thanks to all of you who continue to follow and give feedback—it's inexpressibly valuable in the writing process, I've found!

Chapter 20

After completing the last piece of paperwork and handing over his house keys, Jane sat back and closed his eyes. There was no need, he told himself, to dwell on the emotional aspects of what was, after all, a business arrangement. He'd done what he needed to do, and he should be relieved that it was over. And he was, in a way. The process had been more difficult than he'd anticipated, and having it out of his life was definitely a good thing.

He left the title company's offices and walked to his car, analyzing how he felt. After the home inspection had revealed some problems stemming from the house's long neglect, Lisbon had suggested that selling it might be a better way of honoring the memories associated with it, since now repairs would be made. And even though they knew the buyer was associated with Red John, surely, she'd remarked, he wouldn't keep it forever. Eventually it would be sold and another family would make memories there.

He'd been having a bad day, so he'd snapped at her that he didn't care, that all he kept thinking about was how the patch of floor where his daughter had taken her first steps would now be owned by her killer. That bitter truth had accomplished his momentary aim, and Lisbon hadn't tried to console him about the house again.

Really, when he thought about it, she had a point. But he'd been too busy torturing her as well as himself to admit it.

A perverse idea struck him: they should celebrate finally, irrevocably, selling the house. In public, so Red John would know. It might be the last chance Jane would have to defy his enemy and maybe lessen his sense of triumph. And if he could make Lisbon happy for an evening, all the better. Once in the car, he called the restaurant he had in mind to make reservations, distracting himself by charming the restaurant hostess into promising him the best table in the place.

On the drive back to CBI, Jane pondered the sometimes tricky problem of getting Lisbon out of the office at a reasonable hour. He was sure he'd have a get-out-of-jail-free card for the day if he pretended to be distraught, but mother-hen Lisbon wasn't the companion he wanted for the evening. And she'd been in full hovering mode all day until summoned by Bertram, leaving Jane to go deal with the final paperwork by himself like she'd explicitly asked him not to. Maybe, he thought, she'd be comforted that he was acting so much like his normal self. Or maybe he'd have snarky Lisbon across the dinner table from him, which was okay since his first choice, naughty Lisbon, didn't make public appearances.

Lisbon had gotten back before him, and the relief on her face when he walked into her office made him a little ashamed of not returning the texts she'd sent. But he honestly hadn't known how to condense what he was thinking into a text message.

"How did it go?" she asked gently.

"It went," he replied, not quite achieving nonchalance. "And now, we celebrate. Dinner at Henrico's at eight. It's your job to keep me from brooding, so wear something distracting."

The stunned expression on her face wasn't what he'd hoped for. "Henrico's? Jane, we can't go there. Half the people there will know us."

Which he was counting on, but he knew better than to explain his reasoning. "So? Two friends can't go out to celebrate? Nobody will think anything of it. Everybody knows you're my only friend."

She was still frowning, so he added, "I promise to be on my best behavior. No playing footsie under the table, and I'll keep my hands to myself."

"Well, if you promise," she said, pretending to be reluctant. He knew she really wanted to go, though. Henrico's was more expensive than any of the casual dates she usually had would warrant, and everyone raved about it.

"I promise. And to sweeten the deal, I'm taking the rest of the day off."

She immediately looked worried again. "You okay?"

Smiling, he shook his head. "I'm fine, Lisbon. I just don't feel like being around other people much at the moment. See you around seven?"

"Okay," she agreed.

Jane let his smile become smug as he left her office. Mission accomplished.

mmm

Lisbon got caught up in reviewing the witness statements from their latest case, looking for a new lead since Jane had been too distracted to contribute anything. So she was running late when she got home to find Jane sitting on the couch, looking sharp in one of his dark suits and a crisp white shirt, reading. She was relieved—until she saw what he was reading.

"What the hell is that?" she demanded, staring at the thick, glossy magazine with an airbrushed model in a ridiculously sparkly wedding gown on the cover.

He grinned up at her. "I picked up the mail on my way in. Are you trying to drop a hint, Lisbon? Rather heavy-handed, but perhaps you thought I might be a little slow on the uptake these days." He frowned at a page, then held it up to show her. "Look at this one with the see-through top. She looks like a hooker from the waist up and a fairy tale princess from the waist down. That seems the wrong way around to me. Don't you think? I feel sorry for the groom who has to try getting through all that skirt."

"Get that out of my house," Lisbon ordered.

"You didn't subscribe? It's addressed to you." Jane showed her the mailing label.

"No, I didn't subscribe! I'll call and cancel the subscription tomorrow." And find out who was playing this prank on her if possible. Unless—oh God. She swallowed hard. "You don't think—"

"That this is what he wants next? Maybe." Jane put the magazine down and became serious.

She tried to calm down, but suddenly she felt like there were things she needed to make clear. "Jane. I don't—I'm not ready to think about that. And even if I were—"

He smiled at her. "I know, Teresa. You won't be calling the archbishop and booking the cathedral. Although admit it, part of you would love to have your revenge on Van Pelt for the pink bridesmaid dress you had to buy." He smirked. "Where is that, by the way? I didn't see it in your closet."

"Her maid of honor talked the shop into taking them back and giving us a partial refund," Lisbon said. "Given the circumstances."

"Another longstanding fantasy dies an ignoble death." Jane sounded like he might not be entirely kidding. "Get dressed, my dear, or we'll be late."

She paused, feeling like she had more to say but not finding the words. Then she headed upstairs and quickly got ready. It was only after she went downstairs again and saw Jane's expression that she realized she was wearing exactly the same thing she'd had on at their near-miss in the diner. "Should I change?" she asked, not sure how to interpret the look he was giving her.

"Don't you dare," he grinned. He got up and came over to kiss her, resting his hands on her waist and pulling her close. "I will behave myself, because I promised you I would. But just so you know, I'm going to spend the entire dinner thinking about peeling that dress off you. And we are absolutely having dessert."

She smiled, but something troubling occurred to her, and she knew he could feel her tense. He stepped back and scrutinized her briefly, then smiled. "No, you do not have to inspect your food and drink for jewelry. I didn't arrange for the magazine, Teresa. If I were going to propose marriage, I would find a far more original way of doing it. However, I plan to wait for you to ask me, so put your mind at rest."

Lisbon blinked in surprise. He honestly thought she would, at some point in the foreseeable future, ask him to marry her? Still, it was a relief to know she didn't have to worry about some big embarrassing public scene, because of course she would have to say no. Or at least, not yet. "Good. With my luck, I'd accidentally swallow the damn thing if you put it in something. Besides, marriage is out of the question. One of us would have to leave the unit."

"Yes, it's a complex issue," he said in a patronizing tone as he ushered her toward the door. "And I have no particular desire to be engaged. It seems to me that putting a couple of carats on your finger would just tempt everybody you know to try to talk you out of it."

They were silent until they got in Jane's car. As he started it up, he said, "Just ask me, Lisbon."

"Ask you what?" It wasn't until the words were out of her mouth that she was reminded of that conversation in the diner.

He smiled, and she knew he was thinking of that too. "Anything."

She swallowed. She wasn't sure why she wanted to know, but she did. And she knew that if they were going to build a real relationship, they needed to be able to talk about things they had previously avoided. "How did you propose? Before?"

His smile faded. "I will tell you someday, Lisbon. Just...not tonight."

Despite his act, he really was upset about the house, she realized. "All right. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You can ask me anything you want to know. But for tonight, I would really just like for us to have a good time."

She put on her brightest smile and said, "Then let's go. I'm looking forward to those scallops everybody talks about."

mmm

When the two of them were on the same page, they could manage nearly anything—including having a wonderful time at dinner, despite the fact that the AG was two tables away. Jane made it his mission to distract Lisbon by doing cold readings of their fellow diners and making her laugh, and she relaxed by the time their salads arrived.

They were both pleasantly full, and Lisbon was a little tipsy, by the time they left the restaurant. Because he'd promised to behave in public, he didn't touch her as they walked to his car, but he was delighted when she took his arm, leaning on him a little. "I hate these shoes," she muttered.

"Because you didn't want to invest money in something you rarely use," he pointed out. "Next time we go out for a fancy dinner, I'll give you enough notice to go shopping."

"I hate shoe shopping," she said.

He couldn't help chuckling. "At least I know there will be no painful scenes in our future where you try unsuccessfully to hide the credit card bills from me because you fell in love with a pair of ridiculous high heels."

Lisbon snorted. "Since I am not and never will be your dependent, I don't plan to answer to you about how I spend money, ever."

"Yes," he mused. "I will, as always, be the scoldee, not the scolder, when I give you gifts you say are too expensive but secretly love."

"I didn't scold you about the earrings. Even though I didn't believe for a minute that you used my money to pay for them," she said, sounding proud of herself.

"And I expect you to display the same good sense in accepting future gifts," he told her.

"As long as you keep displaying the same good sense in choosing them. I don't have anyplace to wear anything fancy."

"We can change that. I'd love to take you dancing someday," he said, letting the wistfulness into his voice. They'd danced, of course, but nearly always in front of their coworkers at those ridiculous benefits they had to go to. He wanted to dance with her like her lover, not her colleague. "Maybe we could take a weekend and drive over to San Francisco." Because of course she wouldn't want anyone they knew to see them.

"Mm. Maybe." She leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment, and he couldn't resist turning his face into her hair and kissing her. It was quick enough that he didn't think it was risky, but Lisbon straightened immediately, maintaining a friendly distance until they reached the car. Once inside, though, she rested a hand on his leg, letting him know she wasn't upset.

He'd been mulling over the question of whether her impulse to comfort him would win out over her reluctance to make a mess, given that her period wasn't finished yet, but he now realized that she'd already made her decision. While he couldn't help but feel gratified, it was his turn to be understanding, he knew. So he grinned over at her and said, "How about a nice long shower when we get home?"

Her smile was everything he'd hoped for. "That sounds perfect."

mmm

After a very satisfying, steamy shower, they went about their usual bedtime routine. Jane finished first, so he was flipping through the bridal magazine again by the time Lisbon was ready to join him. The little furrow between her eyebrows was amusing, and he would have enjoyed teasing her some more except for the shade of anxiety he saw in her eyes.

"Get that out of my bed," she demanded, crossing her arms and refusing to get in.

Despite his appreciation of how patient she'd been with him the last few weeks, he couldn't resist pointing out, "Our bed, my dear, since I'm officially living here now."

That gave her pause. She'd been too focused on him to process her own feelings, despite the fact that it had been her idea, he thought. He'd long suspected they were moving far too fast for her comfort, underneath all the good logical reasons she kept giving herself.

"Do you want me to go look for someplace?" he asked calmly. "With a bigger kitchen, preferably. You could spend as much time there as you like, of course."

She bit her lip, and he was pleased to see that she didn't look tempted. "That would be moving backward, which is obviously not what he expects, if he really did send that magazine."

He frowned. "We can't let him make the decisions. By that logic, we'd be out looking at rings and arguing about a church versus the beach."

"But you're worried about what he'll do if we get too far off his script," she said, finally sliding under the covers. "And so am I. I guess we could just pretend."

"Pretend to be okay with living together? You're already doing that. If we pretend to get engaged, that's a whole new level," he pointed out. "One that would have to involve your family and all our colleagues, including Bertram."

Lisbon grimaced. "Do you think if we threw a big wedding, Red John would show up? No," she caught herself, "that would be stupid. I don't want him anywhere near my family."

"It's an interesting question," Jane said, "but purely academic, since we are no longer on the case." He paused, then said, "If you decide otherwise, I trust you'll warn me?"

She yawned. "I'm tempted to make a sarcastic remark about extending you courtesies you rarely extend to me, but I'm too tired to get into that. Good night, Jane." She leaned over for a kiss, then said, "If you're going to keep reading that thing, go downstairs, will you? We can worry about it in the morning. I'll call the company and find out who put me on their mailing list."

"It'll be a dead end," he predicted, but he tossed the magazine on the floor, deciding he didn't want to end such a pleasant evening on a sour note. Holding her was so much more rewarding, and it might even lull him to sleep.

She snuggled up to him without hesitation once he turned off the bedside lamp, and he wrapped her in his arms, reflecting on the strange path that had led him to this moment.

"I'm sorry about the house," she whispered after a while.

"You don't need to be sorry," he said. "After I get used to it, I'll be relieved, I think. And if you want, we can look for a new place. Or I'll find someplace on my own if you prefer."

"I don't want you to leave," she murmured against his neck. "I've spent too much time missing you already."

He wondered how many of his wretched nights in Vegas she'd lain here alone, worried and lonely for him. Tightening his embrace, he kissed her hair. "I promised myself that if we ever made it to this stage, I'd never leave you again," he assured her. "You'll have to throw me out. Which you can, if you need to."

"Good to know," she replied, not sounding convinced.

"I don't want you to feel trapped. Nobody gave you a choice about all this,'' he pointed out. It was something he was growing increasingly concerned about. "If you don't want to do this anymore, you can tell me. I'll try to find a way to accept it."

She snorted. "No you won't. You'll just charm me into changing my mind. As many times as it takes, unless of course you get tired of me."

"Not happening."

"Good." She moved her head so they were lying nearly nose to nose. "You remember how I told you that I knew working with you was going to end in disaster?"

"And yet here we still are," he couldn't help pointing out.

"Well, the other thing I've always known was that I'll never be able to walk away from you unless you want me to. Not even then, maybe." She sighed. "I spent the last couple of years—especially those months you were in Vegas—trying to stop loving you. Nothing worked. So I guess it's not something I can recover from."

He kissed her, delighted by her confession. "When you came downstairs in that dress, at first I hated remembering that Mancini was the last man to take it off you. Then I realized that I didn't care who got to do it before me, as long as nobody else gets to after me. Because this feels permanent for me, too." He paused, then said, "I told you back at the cabin that I thought of you as my last chance, but that wasn't just because you're the only one who would put up with all my baggage. It's also that I can't imagine finding anyone else I could ever love and trust as much as you. And I know that for a variety of reasons we aren't ready to talk about getting married, but I already consider myself married to you in the ways that really matter." He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. "I just want you to know that so you won't have to be nervous when you ask me."

Her little puff of annoyance washed across his face. "Is that why you said I had to ask you, because you think I feel like I haven't had a choice in all this?"

"That, and your general control freak tendencies."

Her knee nudged him in warning. "I have had choices, Jane. I could have chosen not to keep seeing Mancini, to start with."

"But you weren't going to, because I tried to warn you off him and you wanted to prove me wrong. Which only ever causes trouble, I am forced to point out."

"Only partly. I also wanted to pursue any chance that might lead us to Red John."

He'd known that, but he still didn't like hearing it. "No more investigations where you try to get information by sleeping with other men," he said firmly.

"It wasn't just that. I kept telling myself he was another nice guy I couldn't be excited about because he wasn't you," she admitted. "I thought if I gave him a real chance, I'd get more into him."

It was Jane's turn to snort. "You and I are both very bad at dating," he concluded. "So it's a good thing neither of us has to do it anymore."

"Mm hm," she agreed. "A very good thing."

mmm

The next few weeks passed quietly; they had to work on Thanksgiving, but that meant they could look forward to having Christmas off, barring emergencies. The rest of the team made their holiday plans, but Lisbon didn't. She wasn't ready to introduce Jane to her family, and she couldn't leave him here on his own. Plus, she liked the idea of a low-key holiday, especially when he started bringing up menu ideas for Christmas dinner, asking if she preferred turkey or ham, or if there was some particular Lisbon family tradition he should attempt. She assured him that she'd be happy to eat whatever he liked to cook, as long as he didn't give her a hard time about going to mass on Christmas Eve. That was the one tradition she cared about.

"Do you expect me to go too?" he asked, sounding uncharacteristically unsure.

She hadn't even considered it as a possibility, actually. "Not unless you want to. You can keep the bed warm for me instead. Oh, and no extravagant presents."

He smiled. "You're giving me a roasting pan, since you don't have one. And a few other assorted kitchen necessities. You don't even have to shop or wrap."

"That's a present all in itself," she smiled in relief. But she resolved to get him something for under the tree, though whether it would be a surprise was an open question. He was good at predicting her, but at least she was getting better at predicting him. It helped that he wasn't pursuing Red John—that had always been the motivation for his most unpredictable behavior.

"I knew you'd like it." He gave her a smug grin as he headed for the door. "I'll bring you some breakfast. Suggestions?"

"I'd love a bear claw." Omelets and pancakes were all very well, but occasionally she just wanted her old standbys. There were advantages to letting Jane make her late in the morning once in a while.

"Done. See you there." They exchanged their usual kiss before parting ways, and Lisbon hurried to grab her keys. They weren't fooling the team, but she still preferred to leave as much space as possible between their arrival times.

When she got to the office, the atmosphere in the bullpen was tense. That was unusual, especially since Jane wasn't here to cause trouble. God, she hoped it wasn't another audit. "Good morning," she said, more as an experiment than a greeting.

Cho stood. "Not so much." He nodded toward her office, so she led the way.

When they were behind closed doors, she said, "Okay. What happened?"

Cho's crossed arms were the only overt sign of discomfort. "Red John. Two victims, mother and daughter."

Lisbon felt like she'd just been hit by a truck. She went blindly to her chair and dropped into it. "Oh God."

"Yeah. Get this, though: this time the daughter wasn't a little girl. She was fifteen."

The age Charlotte Jane would have been, Lisbon realized. "Toenails painted?"

"Wasn't in the news report," Cho said. "Know anybody in the FBI we can ask?"

She swallowed. "No. We can't seem too interested in this."

"Why now?" Cho wondered.

Lisbon thought of the bridal magazine and winced. "To let us know he hasn't gone away, I guess. That he's still watching. Bastard." She tried to calm down. "I need you to run the Malofsky case. I might need the day off."

"Sure thing, Boss. Anything you need."

They were both a little startled when her door opened suddenly and Jane came in. He set a bear claw and coffee on Lisbon's desk, then said, "From the looks I got on my way in, either I developed a horrible disfigurement between Marie's and here, or you have bad news."

Cho clapped him briefly on the shoulder on his way out. Jane looked at Lisbon and said, "Who did he kill?"

"I don't have the details, but it was a mother and her fifteen-year-old daughter." She got up and went to stand in front of him, so close they were nearly touching, not trying to hide the worry she felt.

"Ah." He was still as a statue, only his eyes betraying his agitation. "A bit pointed, but loud and clear."

She waited in vain for him to elaborate. "Is this because we didn't start planning a wedding?"

"It's to let me know he never had any intention of retiring. That this was never about saying good-bye. That we'll never be free of him."

He was breathing too hard, she realized. "Let's go get some tea somewhere," she suggested, tentatively laying a hand on his arm.

He allowed, but did not accept, her touch. "I need some time."

"Sure. We can—"

He shook his head and stepped back, dislodging her hand. "No need for both of us to slack off. I'll call you."

She watched him leave with a sinking heart, wondering how long it would take him to keep that promise.