Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long to post this chapter! I got bogged down a bit toward the end and finally decided I just had to be done with it, so forgive the abrupt ending. And writing time has been a little hard to come by lately, unfortunately. But all your lovely reviews of the last chapter kept me at it even when I should have been sleeping or cleaning my house or...well, you name it. Thanks for the excuse to avoid real life! :)

Chapter 30

When Lisbon and Grace had decided to have brunch in lieu of a reception, they'd decided it wasn't worth trying to get a private room for such a small party. Jane had suggested a diner, but Lisbon had objected to eating a big greasy meal in her wedding dress. So they'd settled on a nice restaurant with an acceptably egg-based brunch menu and online reviews that included several mentions of how great their pastries were.

With the ceremony over, everyone relaxed, especially Rigsby. As soon as they'd finished ordering, Jane asked Minelli for the camera, then fiddled unproductively with it until Lisbon took it away from him to play back the pictures of the wedding. There were several nice shots, she was pleased to see, including a beautiful one of the kiss they'd shared when they thought no one was looking. "You'll send me these?" she smiled at her former boss.

"Of course. May wanted to give you one of those engraved picture frames, so she told me to be sure to get something to put in it," he replied.

The arrival of the pastry tray put an end to conversation for a moment; everyone was hungry by now. Lisbon claimed a bear claw, while Jane made a show of perusing the muffins to torture Rigsby, who was next to be served. He ended up choosing blueberry, no surprise. In many ways he was very much a creature of habit, which made it all the more impressive that he'd managed to adapt to their new life together so quickly. He still had nightmares—he probably always would—but he seemed to be happy most of the time, despite the threat hanging over their heads.

When Lisbon finished her bear claw, Jane reached over to the tray and grabbed another one, setting it on her plate with a flourish of his hand. She frowned at him. "Trying to fatten me up?"

"You'll burn off the calories later," he said with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

She shushed him, feeling her cheeks heat. Jane grinned, leaning close to whisper, "It's okay, Teresa. We're married now. No one is in any doubt how we'll be spending our evening."

Making a face, she hissed, "Keep it up and they'll all be guessing wrong."

He chuckled and kissed her cheek. "Don't worry. I learned my lesson with Bertram."

He had a point, she knew. They were on their own time, and the team was here more as their friends than their coworkers. But she was still their boss, and she wanted to preserve some boundaries. And she had no doubt that whatever lesson Jane claimed to have learned, he would push those boundaries whenever the mood struck him. She might as well begin as she meant to go on.

The meal passed pleasantly; the food was delicious, and everyone behaved themselves. There was some goodnatured ribbing about Rigsby's appetite, and a debate between Jane and Cho about whether a strangely shaped strawberry looked more like it had swallowed a bug or was the mutant spawn of a mushroom and a wandering strawberry plant, which Lisbon ended by popping the strawberry into her mouth. Whatever its origin, it was delicious.

When they were all stuffed, Jane glanced at Lisbon and called for the check, apparently discerning that she was getting anxious about getting back to the hotel in time for their late check-out. She'd wanted to stay another night, but Jane had objected once he found out the others were going home today because she wouldn't let them waste a vacation day on this trip. Now that the wedding was over, she knew he'd be even more paranoid about her safety.

Lisbon was distracted by Jane playing with her fingers under the table, so she didn't notice what was happening until the table was surrounded by waitstaff. "Oh, no," she muttered under her breath.

To her relief, they didn't sing, but they did shout "Congratulations!" and applaud as one of them set a round cake on the table. She was too busy looking at the others to see whose fault this was to notice the cake until she heard Jane suck in a sharp breath.

The white icing was decorated with a smiley face drawn in a red glaze.

The waitstaff was taken aback as the wedding party stared at the cake in silence. Then Cho got to his feet, demanding, "Who ordered this?"

Rigsby and Van Pelt got up too as the servers all looked at each other in confusion. Van Pelt said, "I ordered the cake, but not that decoration."

Lisbon started to get up as well, but Jane tugged on her hand to keep her in her seat. "Let them do it," he said. "No work on our wedding day."

"Jane—"

He looked at her, his eyes serious. "He doesn't get to make us chase after him today."

"Okay," she replied, sensing this was important to him. She looked back at the cake, then at Minelli, who was frowning as he took a picture of the cake. "We should send that to Moore."

"Good idea." Jane regarded the cake for a moment more, then picked up the serving knife.

"You're not planning to eat that?" she exclaimed.

"Why not? He's not going to poison us," Jane pointed out. "It's a perfectly good cake, if this place's pastries are any indication. We can always scrape off the glaze if you prefer, although I think it might be strawberry." He dipped a finger in it and tasted. "Yes. I wonder what flavor the cake is?"

He held the knife above the cake, then hesitated, his mouth twisting. He shifted his grip on the knife as if preparing to stab the cake instead of slice it. "Besides, the symbolism appeals somewhat."

Lisbon wrapped her hand around his on the knife handle. "We're supposed to do this together."

He turned to lock gazes with her, and she knew that he understood she was talking about more than the cake. He'd never acknowledged her claim as his colleague, and he'd tried to keep her out of it in the guise of protecting her as his friend and later his lover, but she thought that being his wife, especially in their circumstances, gave her a claim on his quest he couldn't deny or brush aside. And his renunciation of his vengeance wasn't going to stand if Red John kept pulling stunts like this, she thought darkly.

"All right," he said after a moment. "Ready?"

"Wait," Minelli said, readying the camera."If you're really going to pretend this is a normal wedding cake, you should at least have a picture."

Lisbon took a moment to be grateful she had kept her romantic expectations for this wedding low. There had always been a very good chance Red John would insert himself into it somehow; she supposed she should be thankful it was merely a ghoulish cake.

"A little quiet, if you please," Jane called out. "We're cutting the cake."

Cho, Rigsby, Van Pelt, and the servers they were interviewing paused, turning to look with varying degrees of curiosity and amazement. Lisbon wanted to roll her eyes at Jane's need for an audience, but she didn't object. If one of the restaurant employees was Red John's disciple, they would make sure he or she had something to report.

"Ready?" Jane murmured.

"Let's do it," she replied, tightening her fingers around his.

They plunged the knife into the center of the cake, then sliced downward and carefully cut out a wedge. Lisbon slid the serving piece under it and flipped it neatly onto one of the dessert plates the staff had brought out with the cake.

Jane cut off a small piece and held it up. "Open wide."

I can't believe I'm doing this, she thought as she opened her mouth. At least he had the good sense not to stuff it into her mouth, holding the piece for her to bite. "Mm. Lemon." It really was a good cake, she had to admit.

She swallowed, then cut off a piece to feed Jane. He made approving noises as he chewed, then took the plate and began eating the rest of the slice.

"Okay, so that's done. Can we pay the check and get out of here?" she asked, her enjoyment in the meal long gone.

"Go on, I'll get the check," Minelli volunteered.

"You don't have to do that," Lisbon protested.

Jane added, "We'll wait for the others." He looked around. "Even though this is most likely a waste of time. We should turn this over to the FBI."

"I'll call—oh damn, I don't have my phone," Lisbon said.

"I'll do it," Jane said. He dialed, giving her a grin. "Stan, how are you? Good. Sorry for the last-minute notice, but how would you like to come eat some wedding cake? I think you'll like it."

mmm

In the end, Rigsby and Cho stayed to interview the staff while Van Pelt went back to the hotel with Minelli, Lisbon, and Jane to get everybody packed and checked out. Lisbon felt grumpy as she and Jane opened the door to their room; she'd been looking forward to playing "find the gun" with Jane, but neither of them were in the mood now.

The white box with the red bow in the middle of the bed was more an irritation than a surprise. Lisbon stalked over to her bag, dug out her cell, and dialed Cho. "Hey. When you're done there, we have a mysterious package here to investigate. Jane, put that down!"

Cho said, "Be right there, Boss. The FBI field office sent over a couple of guys until Moore gets here."

"Good. Thanks." She hung up and frowned at Jane, who was vigorously shaking the box. It rattled.

"Oh," Jane said, disappointed. "Really, how unoriginal."

"What is it?" She wasn't going to bother pretending he might guess wrong.

"A baby's rattle. I don't know whether to be insulted that he thinks we need such blatant instructions or outraged that he can't even let us have our wedding night before he starts pressuring us."

"I'm going with both," she grumbled, extracting the gun and holster from the bow of her sash.

Jane's expression shifted from disgust to interest, and he set the box on the nightstand and flopped down to lie on the bed, his hands folded behind his head, for all the world like he was on his couch back at the office. She stopped undressing and stared at him. "What are you doing?"

"Enjoying the show," he replied, grinning. "I have to see if I guessed right about where the other gun is."

Ah. Maybe they were going to play "find the gun" after all, she thought. Too bad Cho and Rigsby were on their way. She finished untying the sash and tossed it on the bed, enjoying the way Jane's eyes followed the movement, sparkling with enjoyment. "And where's yours?" she challenged.

"Oh, in my pocket. I lack your creativity," he replied. He carefully drew the gun out of his jacket pocket and set it on the nightstand. "Why have we never played strip poker? I've obviously missed an opportunity to debate whether guns count as articles of clothing."

"Maybe tonight's your lucky night," she said, unzipping her dress and letting it fall to the floor.

"Ah ha, I knew it," Jane crowed as he spotted the gun strapped to her thigh. He watched appreciatively as she removed it, then grabbed her jeans out of her bag and slid into them. "This is like my own private action hero movie."

"Ha, ha," she said, shrugging her shirt on.

"Yes, you're right. If this were a movie, the bad guys would've burst in while you were still in your underwear, and you would have taken them down with a combination of sharp shooting and kickboxing in your high heels," Jane mused.

"While you laid there and watched the whole thing," she added, rolling her eyes.

Jane chuckled. "You wound me. I would at least yell for help."

"My hero," she said, sitting down on the bed to put on her shoes.

"My kickass wife," he said, his voice still amused but also warm with affection.

Lisbon felt a shiver run through her. This was the first time she'd ever heard him use the word to refer to her and not Angela. She was his wife. Good God. She had a husband. What on earth was she supposed to do with a husband?

Jane's voice was gentle as he said, "You'll get used to it."

She looked at him, wondering if he was as surprised to find themselves here as she was. There was a strange expression on his face she'd never seen before. "You okay?"

"I'm better than okay," he assured her. "I'm married to Teresa Lisbon." He gave her one of his blinding, genuine smiles. She felt her answering smile spread across her face involuntarily.

A knock at the door shattered the moment, and they both got up off the bed, Lisbon going to meet Cho while Jane went to finish the little packing he had to do.

mmm

When Cho and Lisbon finally decided there was almost certainly no useful evidence to be gotten off the box, Lisbon reluctantly opened it. Jane wasn't surprised to find the antique silver baby rattle, and Cho was unimpressed as usual, but Lisbon seemed taken aback by what to her was useless extravagance. He thought explaining that Red John had probably seen Charlotte's room and made assumptions about what would be appropriate for this theoretical new child would best be done in private. Jane had a suspicion that he and Lisbon had different ideas about child rearing, like they did about money. But he also suspected if they ever took on that challenge, they'd find a way to make their partnership work, just like they always did.

Cho said, "You want to turn that over to the FBI?"

"Yes," Lisbon said firmly. "We don't have any use for it." She handed Cho the box, and he headed back to work. Lisbon closed the door behind him. "I wonder if the delivery person was the same person who paid for the change to the cake decoration."

"Probably. Does it matter? They aren't likely to find them, and if they do, they won't give us any useful information before they're killed off," Jane pointed out. His habits weren't the only ones that were hard to eradicate; Lisbon's instincts were obviously screaming at her to go investigate, even though they'd given up the case.

She sighed but didn't argue, going back to her packing. Jane was finished, so he watched her, looking for signs of hidden distress. As hard as they'd tried to pretend this was a normal wedding, there was no denying it wasn't. And there was also no denying the fact that he'd put her life in danger by placing that ring on her finger, although he knew that refusing to go through with it would also have put her in danger.

Marrying her had, in the end, been his only option. He was just lucky it was an option he found attractive, and even luckier that she did too, much as she'd struggled against it.

He'd make her a good husband, he resolved. He had some experience, after all, and a long list of things to do differently this time. He had learned from his mistakes, and from his years of observing and analyzing Lisbon. He was a different person than the self-congratulatory man who'd felt so smug at marrying Angela. He didn't recall worrying about whether he'd be good enough for her, or what their marriage might mean for her, though he certainly should have, as it turned out.

This time around, he was mostly concerned with the impact on Lisbon, so much so that it came as a surprise to him when he recognized the happiness bubbling up inside him every time he caught a glimpse of the ring on her finger or watched her react to being called his wife. He wanted more of that. Forty or fifty years ought to do.

Lisbon made one last pass through the bathroom and around the room, looking into drawers and checking on the floor to make sure nothing had been forgotten or dropped. He knew she wouldn't find anything, but he also knew it was useless to tell her so.

"Okay," she said when she finished. "Let's go home."

He picked up his bag, stealing a quick kiss as he opened the door for her.

mmm

It was late by the time they got home, since they made several stops along the way. Jane was always restless on long car trips, but this time he seemed determined to draw things out. Lisbon supposed she couldn't blame him for not wanting their day to end, but she hadn't slept well the night before, and she really just wanted to crawl into their ridiculously big bed with the fantastically soft sheets and grab a few hours of rest. Though she supposed since this was their wedding night, sex was also on the agenda.

At their last stop, Jane picked her pocket and declared himself the driver. She wasn't sure when she drifted off, but the next thing she knew, her door was being opened and Jane was calling her name softly as he undid her seatbelt. "I'm happy to carry you over the threshold," he remarked as she yawned and blinked, "but I think it would be best if we started out closer to the actual threshold."

"You're not carrying me anywhere," she informed him, but she did take his hand to help her get out of the car. "How long was I asleep?"

He grabbed their bags out of the trunk and headed for the door. "Not nearly long enough, my dear."

She caught up to him and took her bag, despite his attempt to resist. To soften any blow to his ego, she slid her free hand into his, and they went through the front door holding hands.

"Good evening, Brian," Jane greeted the doorman.

"Good evening, Mr. Jane, Ms. Lisbon," he replied. "Have a nice trip?"

"We did indeed," Jane replied. "In fact, congratulations are in order." He let go of Lisbon's hand long enough to waggle his left hand and display his new wedding ring.

The older man smiled. "Congratulations! No honeymoon, though?"

"One of these days. My wife's such a workaholic, I might have to kidnap her," Jane grinned.

"That," Lisbon said, "would definitely not lead to the kind of honeymoon you have in mind. Good night, Brian. See you tomorrow."

"Good night," Brian called as they got in the elevator.

Lisbon leaned against Jane as the elevator ascended, but woke up a little as they went inside their apartment. Left to his own devices, Jane would dump the luggage near the door to be dealt with tomorrow, she knew, whereas she would not be able to sleep until she unpacked.

But tonight he surprised her by taking his bag into their room and unpacking while she did the same. Then they went about their usual bedtime routine, with one exception: she substituted a silky ivory nightgown for her usual jersey.

When Jane came out of the bathroom and saw her, his smile told her he appreciated her effort. "And here I was afraid you'd already be asleep."

He'd thought no such thing, she knew. "Are you kidding? I can't wait to see what you've been planning for the occasion."

"Liar," he chuckled, coming to stand so close she could feel his body heat. "You're really thinking how weird it is to have sex because we're expected to."

"Well, yes," she admitted. "And...I keep being surprised by the idea that you've done all this before, even though I've always known it."

He put his hands on her waist and drew her closer. "It's true I've been reminded of her a lot today. But it's made me think how lucky I am to have this second chance."

He looked pensive, and she searched in vain for something to say that wouldn't send him retreating behind his jovial mask. When he spoke again, though, she could see the naked emotion in his eyes and hear it in his roughened voice. "If you survive me," he said slowly, "I don't want you to wonder."

She swallowed the urge to protest or ask questions, letting him say what he needed to.

"Don't ever think that you owe me anything, or that I ever want anything from you except to go on with your life and, if you can, find a second chance for yourself."

She was surprised. "You don't want me to get Red John for you, if you don't?"

He shook his head. "I want you to get as far away from him as possible. Go be safe, live out your life. My vengeance isn't something I want to bequeath to you."

"I might want it on my own account," she murmured.

"No. And I never want you to blame yourself," he said firmly.

She looked up at him, imagining scenarios. Her throat went dry as she whispered, "Even if it's my fault?"

He kissed her gently and whispered back, "Especially if it's your fault. Forgive yourself. Promise me."

She swallowed again. "I can promise to try." Because she doubted she'd succeed. "But you won't promise me the same, will you?"

"There are no third chances for me, Teresa. I wouldn't want one even if there were."

She dropped her gaze so he wouldn't see the tears gathering in her eyes. She didn't want to think about his death, even though she knew the odds were against them growing old and gray together. "Will you at least promise not to get yourself killed? That you'll do your best to live, and not go to prison?"

"That, I'll gladly promise," he replied. "I want this life with you, Teresa. I will do everything I can to stay with you. But if I can't, I want you to feel free to go find your second chance and never, not for a moment, ever feel guilty about doing that. If you someday find yourself having a second wedding night, don't wonder what I would have thought. Because I'm telling you now, if I'm not there for you anymore, I want you to find someone who will be."

"I still can't believe I got married at all. I can't imagine doing it twice," she mused. Then she drew in a deep breath and found the courage to ask, "Are you feeling guilty?"

"Always," he sighed.

She hadn't really expected a different answer, but it made her sad nonetheless. He'd once told her that some things can't be fixed, and she knew that he would probably never heal completely. But she loved him all the more for his attempt to make sure that she never suffered doubt or guilt in addition to grief, to spare her the torment he had never wanted to spare himself.

"I know it's pointless to tell you this," she said, "but if you're the one who survives, I really would like for you to forgive yourself."

He sighed. "I could promise to try." Then he took a breath and smiled, signifying that their heart-to-heart was done. "And now that I've thoroughly ruined the mood, let's get some sleep."

When they were curled up together under the covers with the lights off, she tucked her head under his chin and pressed her lips against his neck. "I love you," she murmured. "Guilt and all. I wouldn't have missed this for anything."

His hands moved against the silky fabric of her nightgown, one pulling her closer while the other stroked along her side. The movement was gentle and seemingly innocent, but she knew better.

"I love you too," he said. "Even when you're being so stubborn you won't admit you're too tired to drive, forcing me to lift your keys and then endure your sulking about it."

His voice was affectionate, so she didn't retort, closing her eyes and enjoying his warmth and the glide of his fingers along her hip.

"And I also love that you're really just wanting to go to sleep, but you're resigned to letting me change your mind because you think we're not really married until we make love."

She let out a little sigh. "I've looked forward to this," she admitted. "It's not just because of tradition."

"But you're going to tell me to hurry up or you'll fall asleep in the middle," he smirked. "Which we both know is an empty threat."

"We could pick up the pace a little," she whispered against his ear, dropping a kiss just below it. The best part of sex for her was getting out of her head, losing herself in sensation. She wanted him to drive her out of her mind; he was very good at that, after all.

"I'm not going to hurry this," he said, inching the fabric of her nightgown up her thigh slowly and deliberately. "I want to take my time. I want to burn every second of this night into my memory and yours so we never forget even the tiniest detail." He paused to suck on her earlobe for a moment, making her shiver with the desire for him to move to other places yearning for his attention. Then his hand moved up her ribcage to her shoulder, pushing aside the strap so he could plant a kiss there. "And when you see me smiling for no reason, you'll know I'm thinking of this."

She wriggled against him and ran her fingers along his spine, then gave his butt an encouraging squeeze. "That'll help my concentration," she said dryly. "Now every time you smile, I'm going to think about sex."

"Not just sex, my dear wife," he replied. "This isn't just a pleasant way for you to blow off stress or get out of your head for a while." He tugged at the neckline of the gown until he uncovered one breast. The friction of his fingers sliding across her bare skin drove anything she might have said in response out of her mind. "This is the real thing. It goes beyond the physical act. Make love to me with your mind and heart as well as your body, Teresa. Be in this moment with me."

"I am," she whispered, pressing her lips to his.

"Stay in this moment with me," he whispered back.

"I will," she promised.

"Forever, so that part of you is always here, always loving me, no matter how angry or hurt or anxious the rest of you might be."

Usually she tuned him out while he talked during sex, letting his voice become a soothing background noise, part of the sensory experience. But she sensed it was important to him that she was listening tonight, and she tried to concentrate even as he ignited her nerve endings inch by inch. "I'm here. Forever. Always loving you, no matter what happens, no matter what you do or where you go. Nothing can change that."

He shivered under her hands and kissed her, a slow, sweet sharing that gradually heated into something primal, claiming and acknowledging. Finally, she thought.

But when he pulled back, he continued his agonizingly slow, thorough exploration of her body, even though she knew he had long ago committed it to memory. She groaned in frustration and tried to hurry him up, nipping at his shoulder while her hands roamed over him. He stubbornly refused to speed up, though, and she let out a long sigh.

"Don't hurry," he whispered against her breastbone. "Be in the moment."

It suddenly hit her: he wanted her to savor this, to mark its significance as he was doing. He needed to know that it meant as much to her as it did to him. She had to show him she was paying attention.

"You're the only man I can ever imagine being in this moment with," she told him. She felt his smile against her skin and buried her hands in his hair, luxuriating in the feel of his curls sliding through her fingers. Oh, yes, she thought. She would remember this, every moment, every breath. Every word. "I love you," she said. "In this moment and in all the ones to come."

"All the ones to come," he echoed. "Forever."

Not just for the rest of their lives, she thought, but forever. "Yes."

It was a very long time before she got to sleep, but she was smiling when she did.