Author's Note: This chapter came out way less angsty than I was expecting. And the next one is threatening to become downright comic. Apparently my muse is the happy kind of insane. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and all those who are following along on this trek—I hope you are all keeping warm and safe!

Chapter 21

Lisbon did her best to keep busy. It helped that the Malofsky case heated up and they found a suspect to interrogate, then had to run down his alibi, which appeared to hold up until they dug further. Then there was all the arrest paperwork. She gratefully accepted Rigsby's offer to bring back some dinner, knowing her personal chef was taking the night off.

When she couldn't put off going home any longer, she found it empty, as she'd feared. Checking her phone for the umpteenth time confirmed there were no messages waiting. She resigned herself to being the one to break their silence and sent him a text, keeping to the practical: Should I leave the light on for you?

She was climbing into bed when the reply came: No, I won't disturb you. Good night.

It was the answer she'd expected, but she couldn't help the fierce disappointment that seized her. When the phone buzzed again, she tried not to hope as she grabbed it, but he didn't retract his earlier message. Sorry. Love you.

Love you too, she sent back. She wanted to add that she missed him, but he already knew that, and she didn't want to add to the guilt he was already wrestling with.

Maybe they should take a few days off, she thought. Go someplace else, try to forget about Red John for a while. But that was a temporary solution at best. In the long term, they were going to have to find a way to cope with the fact that the deal might be off. Jane hadn't broken his end, so she wasn't worried about Red John killing her immediately. Like tonight. No, that wasn't likely. Not very likely, anyway.

She went downstairs and double checked the locks. Would her couch at the office be safer? Red John's friends seemed to have no trouble accessing the CBI, so probably not.

She was a cop, and she wasn't going to let Red John run her life. She was going to go to bed and try to sleep, or at least read a good book. Jaw set stubbornly, she went back upstairs, taking her gun with her.

mmm

Lisbon came back to herself slowly, nerve endings alight with aftershocks. Jane's rhythm was growing erratic, a sure sign that he was close to the edge himself. His breath was coming in gasps, and he bent his head to press a quick kiss to her lips, his eyes closing involuntarily.

She loved this moment best of all, when he was most purely himself—no masks, no hidden thoughts or agendas. Only she ever saw him like this.

His hoarse cry made her smile, and she drew him down onto her to rest a moment as he stopped shuddering. When he recovered, he would roll off her, afraid of crushing her, but meanwhile he was limp, panting, his formidable brain short-circuited.

She looked up at the ceiling—and saw a shadow move. As she drew a startled breath, she saw a flash of moonlight off the knife and frantically tried to push Jane off her, out of the way. But she wasn't fast enough, and the blade sliced downward. She felt the force of the blow through Jane's body as he gave another cry, this time one of pain.

Lisbon pushed him off and lunged for her gun, but it wasn't there. When she looked again, neither was Red John. She reached for Jane, but he was too still, lifeless. "Jane!" she shouted. "Jane, no, goddammit!"

There was blood all over her hands when she finished turning him over, and she couldn't help the sob that tore out of her. "Jane," she wailed. "You promised. Jane!"

"Lisbon. Wake up. Teresa, I'm right here," she heard him say, and then, abruptly, she was awake.

"Oh thank God," she breathed, lifting shaking arms to pull him down onto the bed with her. She gradually became aware that he stank of alcohol and sweat, but she didn't care.

"Bad one, hm?" he murmured.

"Yeah." She drew a deep, shuddering breath. "He came in and stabbed you while we were having sex."

"Worst sex dream ever," he said, with a glimmer of humor.

"Yeah. I'm glad you're here. You okay?" She got herself under control and looked at him. She caught herself before she could ask where he'd been, because it was obviously a bar, and it wasn't important which one.

"I'm drunk off my ass," he sighed, speaking more slowly than normal. "And I'm going to hate myself in the morning. But I got worried 'cause if the deal's off, you're not safe. So I crashed on the couch so I wouldn't wake you."

She wasn't going to object to his trying to protect her if it made him crawl out of the bottle. "You didn't drive, did you?"

"Drunk, Lisbon, not insane," he complained. "You'll give me a ride to my car tomorrow, won't you?"

"Of course." She kissed him, tasting vodka and grimacing. '"Can you stand up long enough to brush your teeth?"

"Demanding woman," he groaned, rolling back off the bed. "Ugh. Don't want to sleep in my clothes anyway."

When he came back to bed, he smelled better, at least. She wrapped herself around him, trying to banish her nightmare. Then something occurred to her. "I wonder how accurate he was in my dream? I've seen him, after all, even if I can't consciously remember it."

Jane groaned. "We're both going to have headaches tomorrow if you keep that up. Just try to go to sleep, please, Teresa."

"Let me just write down what I—"

He tightened his hold on her, refusing to let her up. "Leave it," he growled.

Sensing he was in no mood to be reasonable, she gave in and tried to relax again. But in her mind, she focused on the shadowy image she'd seen in her dream, committing it to memory.

mmm

Jane was downright surly the next morning, and Lisbon told him to take a sick day and left water and aspirin on the nightstand. Then she went to her office and seized the opportunity to spend time with the CBI's facial composite software, with some help from Grace.

"Does this mean we're back on the case?" Grace ventured, after they'd gotten as far as they could, given that Lisbon hadn't had a close look or even noticed hair color in the dim light.

It was too bad there was no chance of Jane hypnotizing her to better remember what she'd seen, Lisbon thought, then shook her head. "No. It's the FBI's case. Bertram said he'd fire Jane and me if we went anywhere near it. But it seems like the deal Jane made is off, so if there's anything we can pass along that might help, we should," Lisbon explained.

"And Jane agrees with that?" Grace looked skeptical.

"When he's had time to think about it, he will," Lisbon said firmly.

"Okay. So I guess I shouldn't mention this to him."

"There's no reason to." Lisbon frowned; she didn't want to start keeping secrets from Jane, or asking the team to. For one thing, he was bound to catch on sooner or later. Her gaze was drawn to the couch he'd bought her, where he'd spent so much time lately. What would Jane do if he weren't so adamantly against anything that could be perceived as working the case? Maybe there was some merit to her wedding idea, after all? "Grace," she said slowly, "I'd like your help with something."

"Sure, Boss. All you have to do is ask," Grace said immediately.

Lisbon took a deep breath. "I think one of the reasons Red John killed again, in a way so personal to Jane, is that we ignored what he wanted us to do."

"What is that?" Grace asked.

"He...sent us one of those bride magazines," Lisbon sighed. "Of course a wedding is not an option, and even if it were, I wouldn't want to put all our friends in danger. But if we really did get married right now, we wouldn't have a big wedding anyway. We'd do it in secret."

Grace nodded. "So what we need is a fake secret wedding."

"Exactly. And who would I turn to for help with that?"

"Me?" Grace beamed. "Are you asking me to be your fake secret maid of honor?"

Lisbon couldn't help a smile. "Yes, I guess I am."

"So. Venue," Grace said. "Anyplace in mind? If it's secret, that lets out most of the traditional options."

"The coast somewhere," Lisbon said. "Jane loves the beach."

"So you'll want a simple dress, something flowy. We can go shopping after Christmas."

"Grace, don't get too excited. This isn't real. And there's no need to mention any of it to Jane, either."

Grace blinked. "It's a secret from Jane? How are you going to get him there?"

"If it comes to that, I'll explain the plan. He won't be able to resist." Lisbon was sure of her ground there, at least. He'd said she had to be the one to propose; he hadn't specified how long in advance of the ceremony.

"But wouldn't he be buying the rings?"

"If we were trying to keep it secret, no. We'd send someone. Someone we could trust with a wad of cash, because we wouldn't use credit," Lisbon mused. "Cho, because Rigsby's too easy for Jane to read. I'll take care of that later."

"You need to pick a date," Grace said. "And then I'll get started and decide who should accidentally see me looking at bridesmaids dresses. Word'll spread like wildfire. Everybody will think you're pregnant for sure."

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Great." She pulled up the calendar on her computer and said, "How much lead time do we need?"

"Depends on whether you're buying your dress off the rack or having it made," Grace said promptly. "If you buy something off the rack, you can probably pull it off in six weeks or so. Oh, and don't forget you have to get a license."

"Right." Lisbon stifled another sigh. "Valentine's Day would be way too cliched."

"But it's an easy day to remember, for an anniversary."

As if Jane would need the help, Lisbon thought. He observed the anniversary of his family's deaths every year like clockwork. Though that might have to stop now, she realized. "I guess since it's not real..."

"Of course, all the florists are going to be jammed then," Grace pointed out. "But we probably just need a bouquet for you and a posy for me, then boutonnieres for the guys. Those could be made up a couple of days in advance."

Lisbon was relieved that Grace seemed to enjoy all this; it didn't seem to be bringing up reminders of planning her own wedding. But then, this fake ceremony would be very different from the big formal affair Grace and O'Loughlin had planned. "I'll leave it in your capable hands, Grace. Just remember, this is supposed to be secret, so you shouldn't do much during work hours."

"Got it." Grace got to her feet, still smiling. "Fake secret congratulations, Boss."

She nearly ran into Bertram on her way out, which wiped the smile from her face. Lisbon stood, surprised at the director's presence in her office.

"Sit, sit," he waved a hand and sat down in her guest chair, leaving her to reseat herself as quickly as she could.

"What can I do for you today, sir?"

"Where's Jane?" he asked.

"He's feeling a little under the weather today." Which was true, as far as it went, but not terribly convincing. "The news hit him pretty hard."

"Ah. Yes. You're sure he's not out chasing down some harebrained idea that will end in a public relations disaster for the bureau?" Bertram leaned back and scrutinized her.

"I'm sure," Lisbon said. But of course she would have said that either way, so she couldn't blame him for looking dubious. "I can call him if you'd like to talk to him."

"Not necessary." Bertram frowned at the wall, composing his next sentence, she guessed. "I'm told that you didn't return the FBI profiler's calls when they first took this case."

"I didn't want to put my job at risk. And there was nothing I could tell them that wasn't in the files."

"They aren't convinced of that. And now that we have this new murder, so reminiscent of Jane's family, they really want to talk to the two of you. In the interest of interagency cooperation, I've agreed to make you available."

"But Jane doesn't want anything to do with the Red John case anymore," Lisbon said, alarmed.

"And as he is merely a consultant, I can't really compel him," Bertram said, not sounding unhappy. "You, however, are another matter."

"Yes, sir. As long as we agree this doesn't constitute a breach of our agreement."

Bertram smiled thinly at her. "Regardless of what you might think, Agent, I am not looking for a reason to fire you. Or Jane. I was simply trying to avoid being caught up in another of your incomprehensible schemes. But from your reluctance, I gather you wanting to get rid of the case was genuine."

"Yes, sir." At the time, it certainly had been, on both their parts. But Lisbon thought she might be changing her mind. "I will make myself available to the profiler. Special Agent Moore, wasn't it?"

"Yes. He's waiting for your call.'' Bertram got to his feet. "I trust you will render all the assistance he requires."

"Yes, sir," Lisbon said, keeping her expression neutral until he was out of sight. She sat for a few minutes, sorting through her thoughts. She had no choice but to talk to the FBI, that was clear. What she should tell them, and whether she should consult with Jane beforehand, was another matter.

Cho came into her office and closed the door, and she looked up at him, puzzled. "Are we up?"

"No. What did Bertram want?" he asked, settling in the chair the director had vacated.

"To make me talk to the FBI," she said. "Specifically, the profiler on the Red John case."

"Stan Moore," Cho said.

Lisbon looked at him in surprise. "You know him?"

"A little. When you wouldn't talk to him, I offered to, but only if nobody found out. Nobody has that I know of. And I checked him out. Seems clean." He paused. "The thing is, I told him he should look at Mancini, but I didn't tell him why. I thought you should know before you talk to him."

"Yeah. Thanks, Cho."

He acknowledged her gratitude with a curt nod. "This is going to put you in danger, isn't it?"

"I'm not sure I was ever out of danger," she admitted.

"You going to tell Jane?"

"I'll have to, at some point. What can you tell me about Moore?"

"Young. Ambitious. Bright. Pretty good at reading people, from what I saw. He's no Jane, though."

Lisbon smiled a little. "Good. I only need the one to deal with."

mmm

Jane slept most of the morning, but after his stomach finally settled, hunger pulled him out of bed. When he'd eaten, he took a shower to see if that helped. He felt only slightly better, so he decided not to make an appearance at the office after all. He had some thinking to do, and it might as well be here in the peace and quiet.

Two hours later, he was rethinking his decision. The apartment was too quiet. He needed the background noise, and the awareness of Lisbon's presence, to concentrate properly. So he made himself presentable and drove to the CBI.

Lisbon's office was disappointingly empty, so he proceeded to the bullpen. "Good afternoon," he greeted his teammates, who only looked mildly surprised. "Lisbon around?"

Rigsby ducked his head, trying to hide a smirk. Cho said, "She's in a meeting. How are you?"

"Oh, never better," he said breezily. "How are things going?"

"We solved the Malofsky case," Rigsby said proudly.

"Really?" Jane was at once disappointed and relieved. "I guess you can live without me after all. In that case, my work here is done and I can retire in peace."

None of them believed him for a second. Grace said, "Hey Jane, what's your favorite color?"

He managed to keep the surprise off his face, but she didn't keep the amusement off hers. "Why do you ask?"

"Blue, like your car?" she guessed.

"Why not?" he replied. It wasn't, but she didn't need to know that the color he was most fond of these days was the mysterious, mossy shade of Lisbon's eyes. "Well, if I'm not needed, I'll just catch a nap."

Nobody protested when he headed back to Lisbon's office, closed the door, and settled on the couch. He dozed off fairly quickly, but woke at the sound of Lisbon's voice coming down the hall. "I apologize for the oversight. Everything was just so hectic that night—"

She pushed the door open, and he opened his eyes in time to see her surprise turn to guilty alarm. Jane's curiosity was piqued, and he sat up, doing an automatic threat assessment on Lisbon's companion. No, too young, and her body language wasn't signaling romantic interest. The voice in the back of his head growling "mine mine MINE" quieted, which made it much easier to think clearly.

"Jane," Lisbon said, recovering quickly. "I'm glad you're feeling better. This is Special Agent Stan Moore with the FBI. Stan, Patrick Jane."

Stan, is it? Jane thought sourly. Honestly, Lisbon, haven't we had enough of the FBI? But in response to her pleading look, he got to his feet and offered his hand. "Nice to meet you," he said.

Moore's face nearly split with his wide grin as they shook hands. "Mr. Jane, it's a real pleasure. I've been fascinated by your case notes. I was so disappointed when Teresa said you weren't available."

Lisbon said unnecessarily, "Stan is the profiler on the Red John case."

"Teresa's been super helpful," Moore burbled. "Do you have a few minutes? Because I'd love to hear your thoughts firsthand."

"I've had enough of that case to last a lifetime," Jane said. "I'm sure Teresa's told you all you need to know." He glanced at her to let her know he wasn't as okay with this as he seemed, and she grimaced a little, heading for her desk.

"But she wasn't there for all of it. I'm looking into Mancini, but nobody can tell me exactly what happened after you and he left the cabin."

Jane was surprised Lisbon had chosen to come clean about the protective custody. How had she explained—ah. The note, of course. Obviously she had decided it was simpler to pretend Red John had written it, although she knew perfectly well he hadn't.

Sure enough, Lisbon pulled an evidence bag containing the note from her desk drawer and walked back around her desk to hand it to Moore. "I guess I forgot about it. We were in such a hurry. And we didn't think there'd be any evidence on it, anyway. Jane got his prints all over it when he found it on his car."

Moore took the note eagerly, scanning it. "Ah. I see why you were concerned." He looked at Jane. "So. Mancini?"

Jane frowned impatiently, but he judged the fastest way to get rid of the man was to answer the question. "He had me drive out to the middle of nowhere, then told me I had a choice. I could stay there and wait for Red John to take my shot at killing him, but Lisbon would die no matter which of us walked away. Or I could go back and save Lisbon and I'd never hear from Red John again. Which was a lie, obviously," he finished bitterly.

Moore looked at him, fascinated. "How long did it take you to decide?"

Jane blinked. "What was there to decide?"

"So you decided to walk away from everything you'd worked for every day for the past, what, nine years, just like that?"

"Yes." Jane was offended by the implication that he had, even for a moment, considered letting Lisbon die. He hadn't.

"Why?"

Now he was really tired of the little weasel's questions. "For a profiler, you're remarkably clueless," he remarked with a forced casual air. "What kind of a monster would I have to be to sacrifice the life of someone who only ever tried to help me?"

"It's a good question." Moore's expression had changed. "What kind of monster are you, Mr. Jane?"

Lisbon had gradually shifted position from halfway between them to standing at Jane's side, facing Moore. He had no doubt it was unconscious on her part, but it wasn't lost on him, nor on Moore. Especially when she snapped, "We're done, Agent Moore. Good luck on your case."

Jane smiled, not quite smoothing the edge out. "I'm a mostly tame monster, Stan. You can insult me all you want, and as long as Lisbon's in the room you'll walk out unscathed. But let me tell you what you really need to know: you won't find Red John by looking at me."

Moore nodded slowly. "Did you know that Agent Wainwright diagnosed you as a psychopath?"

"Yes. He told me," Jane said. "But note that he did not fire me. He never even bothered to tell Lisbon what he thought."

That truth was obvious; Lisbon's expression was pure stunned fury. "Because I would have told him where he could stick his diagnosis! You are not a psychopath!"

"Naturally, I agree," Jane said pleasantly. "And if you look closely, Agent Moore, I think you'll find I have excellent alibis for a significant number of Red John's murders. Including my family's."

Lisbon stared at him in horror. Bless her heart, it had never occurred to her to suspect him, even for an instant. But then, she knew him.

"Yes, we're aware," Moore said. "But Red John is known to have many associates. Several investigators over the years have speculated about your relationship to him, including Agent Darcy, poor woman."

"There is no relationship," Jane said.

"You listen to me," Lisbon said fiercely, taking a step toward Moore. "You have some nerve coming into my office and accusing one of my people of collusion with a serial killer he's been putting his life on the line to catch for the better part of a decade."

"With a notable lack of success, especially given how easily you seem to close other cases," Moore said. "But now that I've met you, I tend to discount the theory that you've been covering for him."

"Out," Lisbon ordered. "Now."

Jane smiled at him. "Pleasure to meet you, Stan. We should do this again sometime."

"It truly was, Mr. Jane," Moore smiled back. "Agent Lisbon, thank you for your help. Please call me if you remember any other misplaced evidence."

When the door had swung shut behind him, Lisbon hissed, "Asshole!"

Jane grinned. "He was just trying to rile us up to see what we might let slip. At any rate," he added, letting his expression darken, "I consider you reaped your just reward for going to the FBI behind my back."

"Bertram ordered me to. What was I supposed to do, quit?" she demanded, folding her arms.

Jane briefly considered how easily he could get her fired, since he'd nearly managed it a couple of times while actively trying not to. But it was useless: she'd probably go straight to the FBI, and if they had any sense at all (by no means a certainty), they'd hire her in a heartbeat.

"Look," Lisbon continued, "if the deal's off, there's no reason not to help with the case."

"We don't know that the deal is off," Jane said. "He was making a point, yes. But he didn't come after you. In fact, now that I've had time to think, he won't until he's sure we've stopped playing along."

"I'm working on that," she muttered, going to sit behind her desk.

"Ah." Everything clicked. "So that's why Grace was asking my favorite color. You've set her to planning our secret wedding." He grinned. "That's brilliant, Lisbon."

"It's just to buy us some time," she said hurriedly. "It's not for real."

He smiled indulgently. Heaven forbid she should betray any trace of a desire to marry him, or any girly daydreams about a wedding. "Do I get to know the time and place, or is it an ambush?"

She blushed, to his delight. "Valentine's Day, on a beach somewhere."

"In February? It had better be somewhere south of here," he remarked. "Unless you plan to wear a coat over your white dress."

"Why would I wear white? That ship sailed years ago," Lisbon said.

"For which I am personally profoundly grateful," he chuckled, watching her cheeks grow rosy again. He was tempted to tell her how much he appreciated what a sweet and generous lover she was, not to mention her willingness to follow his lead when they were in an adventurous mood, but that was the last thing she wanted to hear in the office. "Should I go get some rings?"

"No. It's supposed to be a secret, remember?"

"But not really. We want him to know. We can pretend to have too much to drink at dinner one evening and I'll drag you to a jewelry store," he suggested.

"What, you can't pick out the perfect ring for me by yourself?" she challenged.

"Of course I can," he said indignantly. "I'll even get the size right. Should I consider that my contribution?"

"If you want." She sounded uninterested, but he knew she really was curious.

"Then, since you have nothing urgent for me to do here, I'll take the rest of my sick day," he said. "Will you be home on time?"

"Unless we catch a case."

"Call me if you do. I can't let you keep solving cases without me, or you might decide I'm more trouble than I'm worth."

She smirked at him as he left, but he didn't mind. She deserved to gloat over solving one without him. He would just make sure she didn't get another chance anytime soon.