Author's Note: I'm afraid the last part of this chapter might be a bit rushed, because I woke up knowing where I wanted to go afterward and just want to get there. So, sorry if anyone feels I glossed over something important! And just so you know, I haven't been able to stop grinning since this story hit 300 reviews. You guys are awesome!

Chapter 22

The next morning, Lisbon woke to a series of light, hopeful kisses along her jawline, then down her neck. She let herself enjoy them until Jane pulled at the neckline of her jersey to work along her collarbone. "Don't get your hopes up," she yawned. From the way the sun was just beginning to peek through the curtains, she knew it was almost time for her alarm.

He chuckled, the vibration tickling her skin. "My hopes aren't the only thing that's up." He scooted closer to her back so she could feel for herself.

"Down, boy," she murmured, but she couldn't help smiling. It still surprised her that he was just like other guys she'd dated when it came to morning sex, since he was unique in most other ways. "I can't be late today. Budget meeting."

He made a disapproving sound that was part grunt and part groan. "I think I should prove I have your welfare at heart and kidnap you until it's over."

"It's the downside of getting to tell other people what to do. Which I like." She reached up to move her hair out of her face and was surprised when something cool and smooth brushed her cheek. Holding out her left hand to examine it, she was transfixed by the ring that had mysteriously appeared on the appropriate finger.

It was a beautiful emerald flanked by two diamonds, in an unobtrusive setting that wouldn't get in her way. The stones were obviously high quality but not ostentatiously large, and since it wasn't a diamond solitaire it could pass as something other than an engagement ring. It was exactly the kind of thing she would choose, and of course it fit perfectly.

"Merry Christmas," he murmured into her ear, then planted a kiss behind it.

"You're two days early," was all she could think to say.

"It seemed like a good idea to prop up your clever play," he replied. "You can wear it on your right hand at work, and the gossips will have a field day. Especially if you wear it where it belongs when we're out on our own time."

She was flabbergasted, though she shouldn't have been, she told herself. She'd practically dared him to do it, after all. "I thought I was the one who was supposed to decide when we got engaged."

"I said you had to propose. I'm sticking to that," he said, sounding amused. "Anyway, isn't this all supposed to be fake?"

Lisbon tried to get her emotions under control. She hadn't expected to be so affected by a piece of jewelry, especially if he was denying it had a deeper meaning. "This doesn't look fake."

"Of course it's not. But the engagement is, until you choose to make it otherwise. Were you thinking of waiting until five minutes before the ceremony? That seems fitting somehow."

She rolled over so she could look at him. "I haven't thought about it."

He smiled gently at her. "Of course not. But now that you have that thing to stare at all day, you will."

"Who says I'm going to wear it?" But she knew it was a hollow threat. It made too much sense to prop up the wedding ploy.

"Oh, I know it will be annoying having all those women admiring it, pretending they aren't jealous," he said. "Especially since no matter how much you deny it, they'll all assume it's from me. But I'm sure you can stand it."

She couldn't deny, at least to herself, that there would be a certain satisfaction in having everyone think the most gorgeous but unavailable man in the CBI had fallen for her. But this wasn't high school, and she wasn't the shy bookworm who'd gotten asked to the prom by the quarterback. It just felt that way, no matter how sternly she tried to tell herself otherwise. She dwelled for a moment on the image of Jane in football pads (over his three-piece suit, no doubt), letting the ridiculous image shake her out of her weird dreamy mood.

"I hope you insured this thing," she said.

"I will," he said. "As soon as I get my renter's insurance."

She frowned. He was moving out? "I already have renter's insurance."

"I've been thinking it might be a good idea for us to have options. I want us to start looking at apartments in secure buildings. With big kitchens."

The thought of moving was exhausting. Her face apparently said as much, because he added, "You'd move in incrementally, of course, because we wouldn't want to be obvious. And also because I'm planning to buy a bigger bed with a much better mattress, so no need to move this one. You should probably just throw it out."

She swatted him half-heartedly. "Says the man who until recently slept on a board in a dusty attic most of the time."

"All I ever did on it was sleep. We can talk about the apartment later—the wedding should buy us some time. And I'm holding on to the money from the house, in case we need it."

"In case we have to run," she guessed.

"I know you won't do that unless we have no choice. But we might not realize we have no choice until it's almost too late." He reached over and began playing with her fingers, thumb rubbing over the ring. "I never did tell you how I proposed."

"No, you didn't." She was surprised at the change in subject, but she wanted to hear the story, so she didn't object.

"Angela loved Ferris wheels. So I made a deal with the guy running ours one night, so we'd get stuck at the very top long enough for me to give her the ring. It was a gorgeous night." His expression softened, becoming distant. "We could see the entire carnival, all lit up beneath us. And there weren't any clouds, so you could see all the stars shining. Angela's eyes were shining almost as brightly. I knew it was going to be perfect, just like I planned. So when she wasn't looking, I took the ring out of my pocket." He paused.

"And?" she prompted softly.

"And then this stupid bird landed right on my head."

Lisbon managed to convert her surprised laugh into a strangled cough. Jane put on a long-suffering look and said, "Yeah, that was pretty much her reaction too. I don't know if it was sick or what, but it sat there until I moved my head. Then it tried to take off, but it got stuck. I used to wear a lot of hair gel."

Lisbon bit her lip, barely hanging on to her expression of polite curiosity instead of bursting into laughter.

"Angela practically climbed in my lap, trying to see if the bird was hurt, and it started flapping around. All I could think about was not dropping the damn ring—well, and how nice it was having her breasts in my face."

"What happened then?" She was beginning to suspect the real reason Jane wasn't planning to propose.

"The stupid bird panicked and shat all over my head."

Lisbon couldn't help laughing this time, and she buried her face in the pillow to try to muffle it.

"Then it flew off, finally." He still sounded aggrieved about the whole thing. "So there I am, birdshit in my hair, holding on to the ring. Angela sat back down and noticed it for the first time, and she got this look of shock on her face that was actually much more daunting than the shit in my hair. And we just looked at each other for a minute. Then I figured, well, hell, the surprise is blown, but I have to ask her now, right? I can't just put the ring back in my pocket. So I skipped the whole speech I'd composed about how beautiful and kind she was and how I wasn't worthy of her, but I'd spend the rest of my life worshipping the ground she walked on, and just blurted out, 'Will you marry me?' like an idiot."

Lisbon's alarm chose that moment to go off, and she slapped the off button with more force than strictly necessary. "And she said yes."

"Actually, she said that any man who had the guts to propose with birdshit in his hair was obviously someone who wouldn't take no for an answer, so she supposed she might as well save time and give in now." He smiled wistfully. "She always did like to tease me."

Lisbon rested her head on his shoulder and slid her arm across him in a loose hug, her heart aching for him. He still missed his wife, she knew. He probably always would, regardless of the life the two of them planned to build together. She wondered if someday they would have funny stories like this. Oh God, if she ever did propose to him, she'd have to figure out how to make it as memorable as this story.

But that was for the future. For now, the man she loved had shared something he held close to his heart. "Thank you for telling me that," she said, kissing his cheek. "She sounds wonderful."

"She was," he agreed, not quite keeping the tremor of emotion out of his voice. Then he cleared his throat. "But you see now why I've sworn off marriage proposals."

"Yes." She smiled. "Fortunately, there are no birds in the CBI."

"Ooooh. Does that mean I can expect a big public spectacle in front of all our friends and colleagues?" His eyes sparkled.

"Maybe." She drew out the word, teasing him. Then she slid out of bed. "But not today."

mmm

Since they were between cases and Lisbon was occupied with boring administrative minutia, Jane decided to read on his couch in the bullpen until something exciting happened. It didn't take nearly as long as he'd feared.

"Stan! Back so soon," he greeted Moore as he walked into the bullpen. "Did you think of more probing questions to outrage Lisbon? I'm afraid you'll have to wait until the powers that be are finished torturing her with budget spreadsheets."

Moore returned his smile. "I trust you explained to her what I was trying to achieve. Although since I understand you often use the same technique, I'm surprised she didn't spot the tactic on her own."

"She doesn't care about motive when she's defending her team," Jane said. "So, can I help you?"

"Actually I was hoping to speak with Agent Van Pelt. I think I've found a connection between O'Loughlin and Mancini."

Grace looked up, curious but reluctant. Jane knew that she did her very best to avoid thinking about her dead fiancé, so he wasn't surprised at her hesitation. But he also knew that she would do her job, whatever it cost her. He made a mental note to do something to amuse her later.

Cho spoke up. "We looked into O'Loughlin pretty closely. We didn't find anything."

"But you didn't have access to everything the FBI has on him," Moore pointed out. "Or Mancini. We have some promising leads."

"Be careful," Cho said. "Every promising lead we've ever had on Red John has ended up with somebody dead, pretty much."

"I'm aware," Moore said. "I'm also aware that Red John has reacted lethally to having Mr. Jane taken off the case. Of course, this time he gave it up, so I'm hoping that makes a difference. So, Agent Van Pelt, can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

Grace looked at her colleagues, clearly hoping for direction. Cho gave her an almost imperceptible nod; Rigsby looked worried; and Jane gave her an encouraging smile. So Grace stood, grabbed her jacket, and left, only one backward glance betraying her unease.

Rigsby looked unhappy. "Since when are we buddies with the FBI?"

Cho spoke before Jane could reply. "Since Lisbon decided we were."

"I thought we weren't going anywhere near the Red John case," Rigsby persisted.

This time Jane spoke first. "We're not working the case. But Bertram wants us to cooperate. Lisbon told Moore about the note Red John left me, threatening her, and that's why we were at the cabin."

Cho added quietly, "But not about what happened to her. Just that Mancini lured Jane out."

"Got it. Did anybody bother to tell Grace that?"

"She'll figure it out," Jane said confidently. "Don't fret, Rigsby. We're not working Christmas, so you have some time to figure out what you'll say when he corners you. He probably only tackled Grace today because she's leaving tomorrow. And he hasn't had a go at me yet without Lisbon watching him like a hawk, so that's what he'll do next. He nearly changed his mind just now, didn't you notice?"

"You should have made him, so Cho could warn Grace."

"Oh, stop worrying. Grace is going to make him drag every syllable out of her, and she'll tell him as little as she can. Her days of trusting FBI agents are long over." Jane went back to his book.

Rigsby gave up with a frown, and he and Cho went back to work, taking seriously Lisbon's command to get all their outstanding paperwork turned in before they left for Christmas. Jane wondered how she planned to comply with her own decree, considering this stupid budget meeting would probably generate more work. In his observation, that was how these things went. And he had no intention of sitting idly by while she worked through dinner, though he supposed he would have to live with it if she brought work home with her. At least it would be fun trying to distract her.

He was just beginning to think he would have to go out and get her something for lunch when she entered the bullpen, carrying a sheaf of papers with lots of numbers on them and looking like she had just escaped a terrible fate. Which he supposed she had. "Lunch?" he greeted her.

"Where's Van Pelt?" she asked, ignoring him.

Cho said, "Moore wanted to talk to her about O'Loughlin."

Lisbon grimaced. "Then I think we should wait for her before we have lunch. My treat."

Rigsby brightened, but Cho and Jane immediately looked at Lisbon for clues to what was up. Jane was quickly distracted by Cho noticing the ring on her right hand for the first time. His reaction was a brief look of surprise, followed by a smirk directed at Jane. Jane smirked back until Cho looked at Lisbon and said, "Nice ring."

Rigsby's head whipped around as Lisbon's expression turned resigned. "Thanks."

"Yes, that is a very nice ring," Jane said. "Who's it from?" He was curious what she'd been telling people in the meeting.

"It's a Christmas present from a friend," she said. "Of course now I have a pretty high bar for his gift. I'm thinking he needs a pet parakeet. Or two."

He grinned at her, acknowledging the snark as proportional punishment for his goading her and appreciating the reference to his proposal story. Lisbon turned to go, saying, "Let me know when Van Pelt gets back."

"So," Rigsby said when Lisbon was out of earshot, "is that why we're all going to lunch? There's an announcement?"

"Announcements aren't my department," Jane said, keeping his eyes on his book but allowing himself to smile. He pretended to ignore the whispered bet that followed. Unless Grace had let them in on the plan, he was pretty sure neither of them would win.

mmm

Grace returned shortly afterward, and they headed for a little cafe across town, where they were unlikely to be seen by any of their coworkers. Lisbon and Jane drove together, and once they arrived, Lisbon paused before getting out.

"Something on your mind?" Jane asked.

"Yeah. I want to be honest with them. But we still have to play this for whoever might be watching." She took a deep breath and pulled the ring off, moving it to her left hand.

Jane smiled. "Yes. And if you forget to move it to your right hand once or twice, it'll just make the story more believable. Perfect."

She was beginning to see the danger in her plan: it was too easy for her to start believing the lie. Looking at the ring on her ring finger gave her a giddy feeling that was a little alarming. He hadn't asked her to marry him, after all. And she didn't want to anyway. Did she? It didn't matter, because they couldn't and still work together, and she definitely wasn't prepared to stop working with him.

This had to be cultural conditioning, she thought. Girls were led to believe that an engagement ring meant happiness, even though it could just as easily lead to a lifetime of disappointment. She didn't remember feeling this way during the brief period she'd worn Greg's ring—it had mostly made her anxious. She was a little afraid of what that meant.

She couldn't get sucked into some romantic dream, because she was not living in a romance novel. She doubted those had serial killers in them, or leading men still in love with their dead wives.

"Don't overthink this," Jane advised.

"Right." She opened the car door and got out. Jane caught up to her just in time to usher her through the door, and they joined the others. Once they got the business of ordering drinks and sandwiches taken care of, there was a somewhat awkward pause.

Lisbon smiled at them, hoping she looked more at ease than she felt. "First of all, I want to thank you for everything you've done these last few months. I know it hasn't been easy, and it's no fun having the FBI poking around. I'm glad we all get a break over Christmas, and I hope you all have a great time, whatever your plans." She paused, considering how to say what she needed to. "I wish I could tell you we'll have a fresh start in the new year, but until Red John gets tired of us, we have to keep doing what we're doing. So, uh, I have to ask you not to make plans for Valentine's Day, because we're having a wedding."

Rigsby grinned and held out his hand to Cho, who looked skeptical. "Real, or fake?"

"Fake," Lisbon hurried to say. "Of course. But Red John has to think it's real. And it has to be as big a secret as possible, because if we were really getting married, that's how we'd have to do it. But it can't be so secret he doesn't find out about it." God, the more she explained, the worse it got. This was as bad as one of Jane's convoluted schemes.

Cho nodded. "So we have to accidentally on purpose talk about it where we can be overheard. Got it."

Rigsby looked a little crestfallen at not being able to collect on whatever bet he had with Cho, but he said, "Who else is in on it?"

"No one. Just us. Everyone else has to believe the story. We don't know what channels of communication Red John has," Lisbon said.

"But you have to get a minister, right?" Rigsby pointed out.

Lisbon groaned a little at the thought of trying to explain this to a priest. She was sure fake marriage was something the church would frown on. "I suppose we do."

"So," Rigsby said, "it's a good thing I have one of those online ordination things. Have to check to see if it's still good, I guess."

They all stared at him, and he said, "What? It was a dare, back when I was new on the force down in San Diego. Hey, do you have the beach picked out? I could recommend some."

Cho said, "You did it to pick up women, didn't you?"

"Oh," Grace said in disgust, "that didn't really work, did it?"

Jane was grinning like a maniac at poor Rigsby's sheepish expression. "Uh, not really," Rigsby admitted. "And the ones that did go for it were mostly into weird stuff."

Everyone contemplated that for a second, until Lisbon decided to put the conversation back on track. "Thanks, Rigsby. If you are really allowed to marry people—in a traceable way that Red John can confirm—that would make things a lot easier."

"I'll make sure it's still good. If it's not, I'll just do it again," he replied.

Jane said, "Excellent. That saves me the awkward decision of which one of you should be best man. No bachelor party necessary, Cho."

"Good," Cho said. "Taking the boss' fiancé out to a strip club is not a good career move."

"As long as nobody gets arrested, I'm not worried. This is fake, remember?" Lisbon reminded them.

Grace said, "That ring isn't. Can I see?"

Lisbon reluctantly held out her left hand, and Grace eyed the ring with a critical eye, then smiled at Jane. "You had to play a lot of poker to pay for that."

Jane shrugged. "Fake or not, I have a reputation to consider. I'd never buy Lisbon a cheap engagement ring."

"And we'd never throw you a shoddy wedding," Grace said. "I have the flowers taken care of and a couple of dresses picked out that might work, but I'll wait to get mine until you find yours, Boss, so they work together."

"I don't have to rent a tux, do I?" Cho asked.

"No," Lisbon said. "We want to leave as little paper trail as possible. A nice suit is fine."

"No ties," Jane said. "Beach wedding means we can be a little casual."

Rigsby grinned. "If it's fake, we don't have to buy you a vase or a toaster or something, right?"

"Please don't," Lisbon said. "Don't get carried away. This isn't for real."

Grace said, "But it's easier for us if we treat it like it's real. So. Bridal shower?"

"Oh God no," Lisbon exclaimed, appalled. "Don't you dare."

"But it would be so much fun. We could do a lingerie shower." Grace's straight face didn't last long, and Lisbon reflected that getting fake married wasn't doing her any favors in maintaining the respect of her team.

"If you do," Lisbon threatened, "it'll be next Christmas before you get out in the field again."

Their lunch arrived, and Lisbon was relieved when Jane changed the subject to the ideal texture of bacon in a club sandwich, which was, apparently, dependent on the crispness of the lettuce and the ripeness of the tomato. From there, they got to talking about Christmas plans, giving Grace the chance to show her pictures of the new nephew she was going to meet. Rigsby had decided to accept Sarah's invitation to visit her family so he could be with his son for the actual day, and Cho was meeting some friends in San Francisco. No one asked what Lisbon and Jane were up to, but she figured the lack of questions meant they guessed something close to the truth.

Lisbon reflected on the drive back to the office that beneath all the deception and manipulation, at least she and Jane had a solid foundation of friendship. On occasions when she wasn't able to be with her family for the holiday, he'd often coaxed her into meeting him for a drink or a meal, or at least whiled away the lonely evening hours after it was too late for her to talk to anyone back east chatting away on the phone. This wouldn't be so different, except this time they could add sex to their activities.

"You're very quiet," Jane remarked.

"I don't always bother to decorate for Christmas," she said. "But do you want to?"

"I haven't in years," he said after a moment.

She realized he probably had memories of decorating the tree with his family that might make a painful contrast to doing it with her. "It's all right," she said. "We don't have to. I don't have much anyway. I still use an artificial tree I got in college that someone was going to throw away. We can do better next year."

"No, we should do it. It's our first Christmas," he said thoughtfully. Then he smiled. "I'm almost afraid to tell you how much I like hearing you talk about next Christmas together as if it's a foregone conclusion."

"Isn't it?" she asked, glancing at him.

"Yes. As far as I'm concerned. But then, I have a history of successful commitment."

She sighed. "And I don't."

"Not romantically, perhaps. But I of all people should give you credit for your incredible willingness to stick with me through thick and thin." He smiled. "So this year we will have a simple Christmas, and then next year, when Red John will hopefully either be caught or have gotten bored watching us be happy together, we will buy a big tree and all the decorations it can hold."

She couldn't help smiling too. "I like it. Next year."

mmm

Their Christmas probably did look boring from the outside, she reflected more than once in the days that followed. She pulled out her little four-foot tree, to which Jane said in dismay, "How are we supposed to make love under that?"

She laughed. "I hate to break it to you, but I'm not a big fan of carpet burn anyway."

"Nobody said you had to be on the bottom," he replied, pouting a little.

"Next year," she promised.

It became their refrain: next year they would do things differently, bigger, better. She hoped it was true.

On Christmas Eve, she got ready to go to mass, assuming she was going by herself. But at the last minute, Jane became fidgety and declared he was going with her.

"Why?" she asked, perplexed. Just minutes ago he had been planning to make some preparations for tomorrow's big dinner.

He looked like he was trying to think of a convincing story, so she folded her arms and stared him down, trying to convey the idea that if he lied to her before walking across the threshold of a church, he might get struck by lightning. Or her.

Sighing in defeat, he admitted, "It's late and dark, and I know you can take care of yourself, but he has a twisted sense of humor. I'll just sit here and worry the whole time you're gone, so I might as well go with you and save myself the stress."

"Okay," she said slowly. "Jane, I know this is something you think is a big delusion for gullible people, but it means something to me. If you go, you have to promise to behave."

"I will sit quietly and do what you tell me." He smiled with false cheer. "And look at it this way: this could be your chance to save my soul, which you've wanted to do for years. Admit it."

"That's going to take more than one trip," she pretended to grumble as they went out the door.

She got her Christmas miracle: Jane behaved impeccably and didn't even make any snide remarks on the drive home. So she was happy to reward him when they got home, and afterward she reflected on the vast differences between falling asleep this very early Christmas morning in Jane's arms and last year lying awake on her brother's sofa bed, wondering what Jane was doing. She hoped next year would be even better, though at the moment she was having a hard time figuring out how it could be, beyond Red John leaving them alone. Of course, that would be a pretty big thing to celebrate in itself.

Of course, her thoughts about Jane weren't nearly so affectionate when he shook her awake at dawn to open presents. He was a little too in touch with his inner child, she decided as she grumbled her way down the stairs, insisting on having a cup of coffee before the unwrapping began.

She was surprised to see two boxes with her name on them, since the ring was more than enough gift on its own. But then, she'd also slipped an extra box for him under the tree to join the kitchen gadgets and roasting pan he'd wrapped for himself from her. She made him wait to open that until last, enjoying the anticipation of his reaction.

She was glad to see he hadn't gone overboard with her other gifts: a nice wallet to replace hers, which she'd complained was falling apart just last week, and a pair of modest diamond stud earrings "for when you get tired of the emeralds." She smiled indulgently as he told her all about the various attributes of the roasting pan he was planning to use for their cornish hens a little later, growing more nervous as he worked his way through the other gifts he already knew about. Then at last he was pulling the ribbon gleefully off the last box.

"Hm, clothes, I'd say," he said, hefting the box. "Did you buy me a new vest? I told you you didn't have to—" He broke off as he lifted the emerald green silk out, looking puzzled as he realized it was a halter-neck evening gown. "Um, I don't think this is my size."

She grinned. "It was the only thing I had to wrap. I got tickets to a New Year's ball in Seattle, booked the airfare and hotel and put in for our leave. And I know you already have a tux. So we're all set. You said you wanted to go dancing, and I figured nobody would know us that far north."

His smile was one she'd seen only a few times: big and joyful and not at all concerned with what effect it might have. Then he looked at the gown with new interest. "It's perfect. Especially because I don't see how you could possibly wear underwear with this."

She smiled back. "I thought you'd like it."

"I love it. And I love you," he said, folding the dress back into the box carefully and pulling her into his arms for a long, slow, wet kiss. When he pulled back, it was to murmur, "Are you sure I can't talk you into a tryst under the tree?"

She chuckled against his lips. "Next year," she promised. "This year, we go back upstairs until it's time to put dinner on."

So they did.