Author's Note: I wrestled a bit with this chapter, but in the end, I had to accept that Lisbon is going to do what she wants. So please let me know if you think this is OOC, but really, I had no choice. And I should mention that we get close to M territory toward the end of this chapter, but I couldn't find a good place to mark it off, so I hope nobody is offended. The emphasis is on the talking, not the sex. Thanks to all the reviewers for the last couple of chapters—you keep me going even when this fic gets tough!

Chapter 35

Jane followed Cho into the kitchen to point out the gun secured to the underside of the lowest pantry shelf, then began brewing a pot of chamomile tea. "Can I get you anything, Cho?"

"No thanks. I'll wrap this up and get out of your hair," he replied. "You know, this is the world's worst child proofing job. Don't ever let Ben loose in this place."

"Hm. We don't, but that's a good point. I could put one of those doorknob covers on the pantry," Jane mused. And move the other guns up higher, he supposed. Or, better yet, kill Red John and stop living in a goddamned arsenal. "Lisbon wanted to talk to you before you left."

"Okay. That's four, plus Lisbon's. Found it in the nightstand."

"Mine was in the closet, in the shoebox on the shelf," Jane said.

"Go get it and I'll check it out for you."

Jane grinned a little as he realized Cho had no intention of going into the master bedroom while Lisbon was showering. He went into the bedroom, pausing to try the bathroom door. It was locked, which was unusual but not surprising under the circumstances. "You okay in there?" he called. She'd already taken twice as long as normal, after all.

"I'm fine," she called back. "I just can't get the damn stink out of my hair."

It was probably just in her head at this point, he thought, but he knew that didn't make it less of a problem. "Try that mousse you bought." She'd used it once and then put it in the back of the cabinet, complaining about its strong floral scent.

"Okay," she replied, but her tone told him to back off.

Jane retrieved his gun, picked up the big plastic bag containing her boots, and went into the living room, where Cho was feeling around inside the chimney. "Lisbon vetoed that," Jane told him, going to set the boots near the door. "She was afraid I'd forget and turn the fireplace on when she wasn't here, and then she'd come home to find I'd burned the whole building down. There's one under the couch and one in that vase in the corner."

"Thanks. Here, I'll do yours first." Cho took the gun and went to work.

"She'll be fine," Jane said, noticing Cho's glance toward the hallway as the shower stopped.

"Yeah." Cho nodded, focusing on the task at hand as they heard the blow dryer turn on.

He was checking the last gun when Lisbon appeared, hair a little less tamed than usual, wrapped in her wine-colored robe with sweatpants showing beneath it and a white collar peeking out at her neck. Jane deduced from the set of her jaw that she was now dealing with her sense of helplessness with anger. He was probably in for a rocky night.

"Thanks, Cho," she said. "I appreciate the help."

"No problem. Anything else I can do?"

"Not tonight." She managed a smile. "You can come in late tomorrow if you want; I'll cover for you."

He shook his head. "We have to act as normal as possible. But thanks for the offer." He handed her the gun. "Call me if you need anything else."

"We will," Jane assured him. After he closed the door behind Cho, reset the alarm, and threw the deadbolt, he said, "So you wanted him to stay just to keep an eye on me?"

"To make sure you didn't run off and do something crazy." She folded her arms.

"I can assure you I won't be leaving you alone anytime soon," he replied. He looked at her closed, stiff posture, and said, "I made a fresh pot of tea. Come on."

She didn't argue, just followed him into the dining room, where he pulled out a chair for her. "You got the smell out," he remarked.

"I can still smell it," she complained as he went into the kitchen to get the tea tray.

"I know. You probably will for a day or two." He set the tray down in front of her, careful not to step directly behind her. "Do you want us to sleep in the guest room tonight?" Red John had used their bedroom for good reason, he thought angrily. He'd wanted to violate their private space, their sanctuary.

"I'm not going to let that bastard drive us out of our room," she answered. "I don't think I'll sleep much anyway. And you are way too hyped up to sleep either."

Jane poured her a cup of the fragrant tea. "This should help us both calm down." When he'd finished preparing both cups, he sat down beside her. They sipped the tea in silence, until Jane decided he would have to go first. "I came in and called out to you. When you didn't answer, I think my heart stopped. I grabbed the nearest gun and found you slumped in the chair, still handcuffed."

"So you released me and moved me to the bed," she guessed. "Thanks for the blanket."

"You're welcome. I called the others and then you started to wake up."

She nodded. "I never even knew he was here until he put the cloth over my face. I should have swept the room before putting in my code. I know better than to walk into a room and turn my back without checking to make sure it's safe, dammit."

"You should be able to feel safe in your own home," Jane pointed out.

"But we know we're not," she replied. " I was distracted. I won't be again, though."

Jane waited for her to continue, but she frowned into her tea, no doubt picturing what would have happened if she'd seen him first, if she'd had a chance to fight back.

"So you woke up in the chair, already cuffed?" he prompted.

"Yes. My feet too, but he must have brought his own for that. He had two pairs, one for each ankle and chair leg."

"Taking no chances," he murmured. "And he stayed behind you, except for taking your boots off?"

"Yes." She swallowed hard.

"And played with your hair, obviously, to make you uncomfortable." When she nodded, he mused, "I wonder if he put some of his cologne on his hands, to make sure I'd smell him on you."

"Probably." Lisbon's fingers tightened on her teacup. "He talked about hypnotizing me to forget him because it would drive you crazy to find me smelling like another man and denying anyone had been here. But I told him you wouldn't believe I was cheating on you."

"I wouldn't," he assured her. Sheer loyalty would keep her faithful even if she didn't love him anymore, he thought. After another pause, he said, "Tell me about the boots."

She sighed. "That was the creepiest part. I wish I hadn't mentioned that my feet hurt. I think he might have a fetish, because he did everything so slowly, like he was savoring it. And then he...kept touching my feet. And he told me I needed a pedicure."

"Interesting." He saw something else flash across her face. "What else?"

She stared down at her teacup. "He said I shouldn't neglect the details, because...because your first wife was so perfectly groomed."

Jane filed that away to think over when she wasn't darting little glances at him. For now, he focused on the insecurity he heard in her voice. Reaching for her hand, he pressed a kiss into her palm. "I don't care if you never get a pedicure, Teresa. I love every inch of you just the way you are."

She shivered a little. "Can you—can you go back to calling me Lisbon? Just until I stop hearing him saying my name."

"He called you by your first name?" He was proud that he kept his voice even, concealing his dismay at being asked to call his wife by her last name.

"Yes. He called me Mrs. Jane once, but the rest of the time he used my first name." She frowned. "And he pronounced it the way you do."

"Are you telling me I say your name funny?" he asked, smiling a little despite himself.

"I like the way you say it," she said quickly. "But most people say the 's' as an 's' instead of a 'z' like you do."

"So you think he has an otherwise well-concealed accent, or else he's heard me say your name."

She took another sip of tea. "We know he's heard you say my name. He said he'd lost count of how often he's listened to our wedding night."

Jane let go of his teacup, afraid he might shatter it, and moved his hands to his lap where she wouldn't see his fists clench. "And he had notes on my performance, no doubt?"

"On both of us, actually," she said, trying for humor. "He said I come too easily and that it must go to your head."

Jane snorted, reflecting on the forethought and effort he devoted to pleasing her. "He has no idea. Let me have it, Lisbon. It will tell me something about his mindset." And considering that the man had threatened to rape his wife, Jane considered figuring out his mind his top priority.

"Just that you talk too much. And." Lisbon winced a little. "That he could think of better things to do with his lips and tongue."

"Hm. Yes, I can see why that would bother him." Jane felt a feral smile tug at his lips and tried to smooth it out. "He'll never be able to turn you on with his voice the way I do. He can't replicate it."

Lisbon frowned. "That's why he listened to us? Because he wants to, what, learn your tricks in bed?"

"More precisely, he wants to learn what does it for you, my dear." Jane stifled a groan of frustration as she turned away, just for a second. "He called you that too?"

"Yeah." She sought refuge in her teacup, draining it. Jane poured her another cup while he thought. She glanced at him and said, "Thanks. You have a theory, don't you?"

"Working on it," he said. "What else did he say, Lisbon?"

"That I had to have a baby and stop stalling. That he watches you and knows what you're up to. I guess that means he knows how you always manage to have enough condoms when we need them."

"And that's when he said if I didn't father your child, he would?"

She nodded, curling her fingers around the teacup and staring into it. Then she took a deep breath. "And I asked what would happen if I couldn't. He said...he said I'd have to prove I couldn't. He used the word 'barren,' actually, which I thought was kind of weird. It's old-fashioned, but it's not a word you'd use."

Jane nodded. "How would you have to prove it?"

Another shiver ran through her, rattling the teacup slightly. "By spending every night for a year with him and not getting pregnant. Then he said he'd give me back to you, if you still wanted me back."

"You are my wife," Jane said quietly. "I will always want you back." He tapped a finger on the table, thinking hard. "But I'd much prefer not to lose you in the first place, of course. Did he say anything else?"

"Um, he asked me if I was happy. And he said the privileges he granted you were his to revoke, and that you'd had me all to yourself for six months now. And that he couldn't wait until it was his turn."

Jane hummed a little, frowning as he thought. His tea had gone cold, but he drank it anyway.

"Oh," she said, just remembering. "He asked about my freckles, if you ever drew patterns in them. Then he—he put his finger right here and did one, I guess. I couldn't see, I just felt it. It was disgusting, made my skin crawl. And he asked me if I was aroused." She sounded outraged. "As if he thought I actually might be. How crazy is that?"

"Downright delusional," Jane mused.

Lisbon said, "Tell me what you're thinking." She probably meant it to come out as a demand, but there was a definite plea in her eyes.

"I'm thinking," he said slowly, not sure if she was ready for the whole truth, "Red John has absolutely no idea how to woo you, even after watching me do it."

"But why does he want to? He's got all those disciples, right? Beautiful women like Lorelei who're only too happy to sleep with him whenever he wants."

"But they're no challenge."

"So he wants me because I don't want him?"

"He wants to make you want him. Preferably, instead of me." Jane watched her carefully for signs of distress, but all he saw was incredulous disgust.

"Like that's ever going to happen," she scoffed. "Anyway, why? I thought he wanted to use me to make you suffer. But this sounds like something more than that."

"Yes. I think it might be. I might have been wrong about his motives for wanting us together. That, or his motives have evolved as he's watched us, I'm not sure. Killing you would end his fun, but seducing you away from me would be a new game he would enjoy both intellectually and physically. And the fact that he'd have to kidnap you to ever make that happen wouldn't be a deterrent for him." Jane thought for a moment more, then looked closely at Lisbon. She was exhausted, and she'd been through enough, he decided. The rest of his theory could wait. "Let's get some rest. Just tell me if I say something or touch you in a way that makes you uncomfortable."

"I have to get over this," she said, getting to her feet with a stubborn set to her chin.

"You will," he said. "But you don't have to do it in one night, love." He was relieved that endearment didn't cause a reaction, and that she didn't seem to mind when he took her hand.

They went about their routine of checking the locks and getting ready for bed. Lisbon shed her robe and sweatpants, but she kept the shirt Jane had been wearing yesterday as her sleepwear. They slid into each other's arms under the covers, Jane being careful where his hands went. Her shoulders were a problem, and he knew better than to stroke her hair, but he wasn't sure if there were other sensitive areas. "I love you," he whispered.

She burrowed her face into his chest. "I love you. Just you. Until death parts us. Nobody can change that."

"I know," he whispered back. "And nothing he does—nothing—can make me love you any less. Remember that."

"I will," she promised. She was quiet for a while, but she was nowhere near falling asleep, he knew. "What do you think we should do?"

He sighed. "A better man would abstain from sex while we figure out who he is. Obviously he's on to my methods of picking up condoms, and I don't want to give him an excuse to come after you."

"We have something to go on," she mused. "We might be close. It might be okay. I'm not twenty anymore; I probably wouldn't get pregnant right away."

Jane frowned. It wasn't like her to reconsider a decision she'd been so firm about before. "We shouldn't decide anything tonight."

"But I want to." He felt her grimace against his neck, struggling to ask for what she wanted. "I hate that he put his hands on me, that he made me smell like him. That I can't get his damn voice out of my head. I need you to get him out. I know you can do it. You can talk until I forget what he sounded like and touch me until I forget how his hands felt."

Jane felt this would be a bad idea, but he also knew that once Lisbon decided on a course of action it was nearly impossible to change her mind. When he didn't respond right away, she stretched up and nipped his earlobe. "Really?" he asked, letting his surprise show.

"Really," she murmured.

"I don't want him in our bed," he said.

"Neither do I. That's why I want you to get rid of him."

She sounded very matter of fact, but then she wasn't as romantic as he was. And tonight her needs trumped his. "Okay," he said, a little distracted as he thought about how best to do this.

She thumped his shoulder with her sharp little fist. "Don't put yourself out or anything," she grumbled. "If you'd rather work off all that tension pacing and brooding, don't let me stop you."

"No, no," he said, kissing the tip of her nose. "Just pondering my plan of a—approach." He winced a little at his near-blunder. She'd already been attacked once tonight. He needed to be mindful of that and not go all caveman on her, no matter how strong the impulse was to erase all evidence of the other man's trespass and mark her as his own.

"I'm not an airport," she said in exasperation. "And if you're lying there thinking that you need to treat me like I might break, think again. You've already reassured me; now I need you to blow my mind."

"So no pressure then," he grinned. "Well, I have four condoms left. We need to make them count. Any special requests?"

She took a deep breath. "A foot massage?" She slid her foot up his calf. "They're nice and clean, I promise."

That was his Lisbon—going straight for the heart of the problem. Other people might want to work up to the hard part, but not her. She would tackle it head on. Not for the first time, he was both proud and dismayed.

Well, she had enjoyed the times he'd massaged her feet in the past, and he would be sorry to have that off limits. He would try to reclaim it, and if she was okay with that, he was of course happy to carry his seduction to its conclusion.

"You're awfully quiet," she said, her hands and feet pausing. "Don't you—" she broke off, and he heard her breathing become uneven. "Don't you want me? Is it because he touched me?"

"I will always want you," he promised, kissing her softly on the lips. "I'm just worried you're pushing yourself too hard, and I don't want to be part of anything that hurts or upsets you. Before we try the foot massage, let's see if we can't take care of some of the other places." He moved his hands to her shoulders and slid his fingers gently over them. "He grabbed you, didn't he?"

"Yes," she whispered. "Toward the end, when he started talking about having sex with me. It feels like I might bruise."

"You were afraid he was losing control."

"Yes." Her breath hitched, but her voice was steady. Sometimes he forgot how strong she was, and the rediscovery always staggered him.

"That's when he sucked on your neck?"

"Mm hm." She swallowed as he kissed his way along the side of her neck. It was the wrong side, he knew, but he'd need to reposition her to kiss that damn hickey, and he wasn't sure she was ready for him to push her onto her back and pin her to the bed.

Lisbon solved the problem by pushing him onto his back and sliding on top of him instead. He smiled and let her take charge, knowing that was exactly what she needed. When he'd finished nibbling at her neck, pressing a gentle kiss over the tender area of the hickey, she slid out of bed and went to the closet, finding the pants he'd worn that day and retrieving the condoms.

"When these run out, I guess we can try the rhythm method," she remarked, unbuttoning the shirt and letting it fall to the floor.

"That's what your parents used?" he asked curiously.

"Mm hm." She smiled slyly at him as she straddled him.

"And it worked so well they had four children in what, eight or nine years?"

"Oh, shut up," she sighed. "Wasn't there supposed to be a foot massage on the agenda?"

"There was, but I can't quite reach them from here," he grinned. "We can always eat dessert first, as it were."

"Oh right, because you're so energetic after sex." She rolled her eyes.

Jane decided to take a chance and quickly rolled over, catching her off guard and provoking a little yelp. "Don't underestimate me," he advised, settling himself on top of her.

"You can't reach my feet this way either," she pointed out.

"Oh, yes I can." He reached under her leg and bent it until her knee was nearly level with her ear. They both groaned as his erection rubbed against the moist heat exposed by her new position, and he began massaging the arch of her foot.

"Mm, that feels amazing," she sighed. "Do the other one."

"You're determined to push my self-control to the limit, aren't you?" he said, bending her other leg so he could grasp her foot. He had to release the first one to hold himself up, and she laid it across his back, her heel resting just above the curve of his butt.

He barely held on to his control long enough to sit back and put the condom on, groaning in relief as he thrust inside her. He'd come so close to never having this again, he thought. To losing her. He would do anything to keep her safe, keep her with him.

"Talk to me," she breathed in his ear.

"I love you," he responded, momentarily at a loss for what else to say.

She smiled, leaning up to catch his lips with her own. "That's all you got? What happened to sonnets and obscure poetry?"

Apparently Red John had skipped the poetry recitation for their encounter, he thought. "Is that really what you want, Lisbon? You usually make fun of me when I'm a poetical mood."

She sighed. "I changed my mind. It's stupid for you to call me by my last name when you're inside me."

"As you wish, Teresa," he replied, relieved. "But no poetry tonight. All I can think of is how thankful I am you're alive. And how easily this night might have turned out differently." He abandoned his leisurely pace, savoring her gasp of pleased surprise at the new rhythm. "I can't lose you. You're more important than my next breath, my next heartbeat, my next thought. Because none of that can happen without you. You're not just part of my life. You're the foundation of it, the cornerstone. Without you everything falls apart."

"I know," she whispered. "Do you know, really know, that I feel the same way? God, those months you were in Vegas nearly killed me. You left this huge hole in my life, and I was afraid I'd fall in and never crawl back out."

"I'm sorry," he panted in her ear.

"Never again," she said, framing his face with her hands. "No more running off. I don't care what the reasons are."

He was getting ahead of her, he realized, focusing on getting himself back under control. She was thinking too much, feeling too little. Of course, he might not do her any favors by breaking through the unconscious wall she'd erected around her emotions. It was protecting her from things she wasn't ready to deal with.

"No more running off," he promised. He was going to be too busy watching over her like a hawk anyway. "I couldn't if I wanted to. I could never have done it if we'd been lovers. All those sleepless nights not being able to call you were agonizing enough. I wouldn't have got through even one if I'd known then how it feels to have you wrapped around me. How it feels to be so deep inside you I can't tell where I end and you begin. How that moment right before you come is like standing on the edge of a cliff, tensing my legs to jump into the ocean and lose myself in the crashing waves. And how the way you gasp my name is one of my favorite things in life. God, Teresa, I'd give up anything not to lose this, not to lose you. I'd give up everything. I'd give up tea."

Her brilliant smile lasted only a moment before she threw her head back and cried out, her body tensing as she exploded around him. He groaned and gave in to his own release, feeling unaccustomed tears slide out of his tightly closed eyes.

When he opened them again, she was looking up at him in concern, her own eyes wide and wet. "You're crying," she said, her voice hoarse.

"So are you, love. It's all right." He kissed her forehead, then each eyelid, tasting salt.

She pulled him down on top of her, holding him against her with all her stubborn strength. It took several tries for him to roll them to their sides so he wasn't crushing her. Only when she finally surrendered to sleep did her grip slacken, and Jane was finally able to slide out of bed to get rid of the condom, going into the bathroom where the trash can was. His body was relaxed and sated, but he could feel the sting where she'd dug her fingernails into his back, so he took a quick look in the mirror. His back had several rows of neat crescent-shaped marks, some of which had broken the skin, and ten little cuts where she'd dug in and dragged her nails.

He reflected how often pleasure and pain were intertwined in his life. Being with Lisbon was his greatest pleasure—perhaps his only real pleasure—but it went hand in hand with his worst fear, that of losing her. The pain of that would not be survivable.

Crawling back into bed, he settled her in his arms, smiling at her little murmur of contentment. He would savor this moment, not because he would want it to remember her by, but because it was a moment that deserved his full attention. Life contained all too few of those. And however long they had together, he intended to be fully present, fully engaged, because she deserved that from him. He wasn't going to waste time brooding in dark corners or obsessing over evidence. He was going to be with her, looking out for her, letting her know she had his full, undivided attention. She would never again feel that she came second.

And tomorrow he would tell her his theory, because his undivided attention might not be enough to keep her safe.