Thanks very much for the reviews and the positive reactions to the previous chapters, very much appreciated. I know my Lisbon and Jane are acting out of character, but it's my convoluted version of them – and hope you enjoy a little.

AN: These characters definitely don't belong to me; except Jill and this is probably the last time we will see her for a while.

Falling Slowly – Chapter 3

All I wanted was to go out for dinner with my friend. I was going to get dressed up a little and pass an hour or two far removed from my usual routine. It was going to be fun and calming. And I was going to eat a really nice steak, and maybe some carbs. I had definitely been looking forward to the carbs… Not much of an evening, but my standards of fun evenings out are not very high.

As is so often the case, my plans have gone to crap.

I am sitting in a perfectly nice restaurant, maybe it's a little shabby but apparently the food will more than make up for the faded wallpaper; that's what Jane told us anyway when he drove us to the restaurant of his choice. And there is my problem as usual; Jane.

I didn't plan on sitting in a booth across from Jane and my trouble making friend Jill. She is certainly too pleased with herself at this little outing she has arranged, and Jane is showing off to his audience of two. Well he is showing off to anyone he comes into contact with, which I suppose I should be entirely used to by now.

It's dangerous, though, being out like this. I don't know what Jill thinks she is going to achieve tonight, and that has gotten me stressed and on edge; the opposite of how I thought I was going to spend the night. I shouldn't have told her about my unresolved feelings for Jane, and I certainly shouldn't have agreed to come along on this fiasco. I don't want to be made fun of or teased; I just don't have enough energy for that. I wanted to talk honestly with my friend; there is a comfort, albeit a terrifying one, in Jill knowing that I have stupidly real feeling for that stupidly insufferable man sitting across from me.

"What do you imagine she is thinking about?"

"Paperwork or coffee, knowing Lisbon."

I am suddenly aware of being the focus of all attention at the table, conversation has halted and I look up from my drink to see two pairs of amused eyes watching me. Jane is smiling a little half smile of amusement and what I would imagine he thinks is charming; those of us who know him better know it's his practised, artificial smile. I don't know how to interpret that. And Jill, well she is smiling and it is genuine but she is staring at me with eyes that are screaming join in, speak, sorry. Not as sorry as I am Jill.

Goodness I must be terrible company as my self-pity is starting to put me off my dinner. I should stop mopping, enjoy this pleasant glass of wine and be pleasant to people who are trying to engage me in conversation and simply spend time with me.

"I'm sorry, I spaced out there; what were we talking about?"

"Teresa, darling, Patrick and I were simply wondering where your attention was; because it wasn't here with us. Patrick seems to believe you were thinking of working or drinking coffee – I can't believe that to be true, at least tell me you were thinking about that cute guy on the table over in the corner who has been trying to catch your attention since you sat down."

I throw Jill a look which I hope conveys how very much I would like to shoot her right now, but I refuse to look over to where she indicated; I am not in the mood for her match making games tonight – something I hope she would have realised. As my attention is focused across our table I watch as both Jill and Jane stare at a table across the other side of the restaurant; Jill is smiling and affecting that she is simply looking for a waiter, I think. Jane on the other hand is looking across the restaurant as though he wants to go and ask my apparent admirer to step outside. He never does like to share his toys, and the notion of him having to give up his audience of two tonight must be infuriating him.

When did I become this person? I am now petulantly complaining about Jane apparently wanting to give me his focus and attention this evening; the very way I want to spend most of my evenings. I need to stop being such a brat.

"Stop it Jill, I was certainly not thinking about fictitious men who are trying to get my attention and nor was I thinking about paper work or coffee. I was thinking about food, it's been a long day and I haven't eaten so I was thinking about my steak. Okay?"

"Certainly darling, you sit there in your lovely dress and think about food while Patrick and I talk about you, politics, sports and that cute guy over there that will spend the rest of his evening trying to get your attention…"

"Shut up."

That was elegant Teresa, I succinctly won that argument.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your charming conversation ladies, but I must protest that while I will happily spend the evening discussing most of those topics with you Jill, I refuse to talk about sport. Not even Lisbon has persuaded me of its reason for existing."

I laugh as Jill turns in her seat to stare at Jane, I can feel myself starting to relax; literally feel the tension ease a little from my shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, tonight will be fine – we can laugh and tease and have a night off from who we usually are. I can do that, and it won't even be for very long as Jill has a flight to catch in a couple of hours. So I can definitely be a cheerful version of myself for the rest of the evening.

"Patrick Jane, I was led to believe you were a man of taste… No reason for sport to exist, there are simply not enough hours left in human existence to discuss the factual inaccuracies in that statement."

"Forget it Jill, on this topic Jane is an idiot – he refuses to enjoy sports, and believes those of us who do to be utterly inferior. He is an idiot. Clearly."

I spit out those last words, but as I say them I am grinning at Jane; this is a long established argument between the two of us. He knows my feelings, namely that he is wrong and an idiot while Jane sticks to his principles and periodically tries to prove me wrong. Like I said, he is an idiot.

Jill is still staring at him, she and Jane are sitting on the same side of his booth and she has twisted in her seat to face him. I'm not sure what her reaction is going to be, she looks like she might either hit him for his stupidity or simply shake him to force some sense into him. Goodness if only Patrick Jane was that easy to manipulate.

They are staring at each other now; grinning like the idiots I know both of them are capable of being. I am suddenly grateful for their presence in my life, for all the faults and difficulties of our relationships I am* unspeakably lucky to know them.

"So Patrick, it appears you are pretty but just not that smart; how very disappointing."

I am laughing, openly laughing at Jill and her teasing; very few people in the world get to do that to Patrick Jane and it's fun to be the audience for once.

"I concede, a sensible man can tell when he is beaten. To indicate my capitulation I will pay for dinner and that cheap red wine you're insisting on drinking."

"Not so smart, but definitely a snob; Teresa how ever do you manage to put up with this man? The wine is fine, just because it doesn't cost $100 a bottle doesn't make it vinegar; you have the same ridiculous prejudice as my husband. You're making me mad now, so that's two topics we have to avoid; sports and wine. What are we going to talk about now?"

Jill winks at me as she says these words, and I can tell how much she is enjoying herself. I know today must have been stressful for her, and we haven't even talked about how that went. But maybe this is better, maybe this is just what she needs; she can tease me and Jane and get outside of whatever dramas are going on in her own head. Allowing her to do this will also give me respite from the incessant drama playing in my own mind.
"Well why don't we talk about our shared interests Jill; and as far as I can see the very top of that list would be Teresa Lisbon."

As he says these words, Jane looks at me with his most beautiful smile; the one that reaches his eyes and causes every magnificent line on his face to crinkle and highlight his appeal. It's a devastating weapon and a large part of my waking life is spent trying to resist it. I break my rules a little tonight, smile in return and swallow a large mouthful of the disgusting wine Jill is making us drink. It really does taste like vinegar.

"I think we should talk to a waiter, our food seems to be taking forever to get here and you have a flight to catch."

There that'll work Teresa, no one will even think about talking about you now.

"Calm down Teresa, don't worry I think we must be about next in line to be fed. And I have over an hour before we have to get out of here, so relax and enjoy yourself for once; at least do that dress the courtesy of enjoying your evening out."

Next time I am alone with my friend Jill Barker I am going to shoot her. Somewhere really painful; her elbow maybe. I am already mentally composing the hate filled email I am going to send her later.

"I think Lisbon is so cranky as her blood sugar is low. I wasn't around today to make sure she ate, so she will have existed on coffee. I think she is worried about the waiter coming because she is trying to convince herself that she won't need to go to the table next to us to steal their breadsticks."

He really is an insufferable man. And I do eat when he isn't around, I was just busy today.

"Bite me."

This makes Jane laugh, and Jill look at me like it's me that needs shooting in the elbow.

"Okay, Patrick; you have any particular Teresa Lisbon stories you want to share with me."

Well there are lots he could share with you Jill; the one where I waited for him for six months while he ran off to Vegas. Actually he couldn't tell you that one, because he ran off and left me. Or maybe he could tell you about the times I slept outside of his motel room in my car to make sure he stayed home and wasn't out on some irresponsible scheme to catch a serial killer. But he actually doesn't know about that one either; and this disgusting wine is making me into a vicious drunk – well I'm not drunk but the viciousness of my feelings seem to be showing tonight.

"I'm not sure I could tell you anything about Lisbon you wouldn't already know. I find her lacking as a card player; that is my most recent discovery about her. In most other respects I find her to be superior to just about anyone else in the world."

I've been waiting for the joke, waiting for Patrick to look up from his cup of tea and add a teasing comment to his lovely words. But he is drinking his tea, avoiding my eyes and drinking his tea. I don't have the vocabulary to deal with this situation, I would ask for Jill's help but she is staring at Jane with unreadable eyes.

"I hear that Mr Jane, I hear that. Now if only we could convince our lovely Lisbon of her unique wonderfulness then imagine how much happier she would be."

Shut up. Shut up.

"I'm plenty happy, thank you Jill. Why don't we talk about something other than me, I can think of hundreds of more interesting topics. How was work today, did everything go okay?"

"Nope, we're not talking about work, it's not happening. It went fine. Not great, but fine. I'll speak to you about it next week when I have gotten my head around what I need to. Anyway, Patrick isn't interested in talking about my work. Where are your manners, Teresa? So, in the spirit of talking about shared topics we can all engage with – favourite Teresa Lisbon stories, who'll start me with theirs?"

Jane nearly chokes on his tea as he listens to this exchange between Jill and I, serves him right, I hope he does choke. He looks absurdly pleased with himself; and also absurdly attractive in his rumpled suit. I wish I didn't notice these things, I wish I didn't worry that a rumpled suit means a night spent sleepless and worrying about Red John.

"Nothing to share Patrick, you disappoint me."

"I have plenty to share, but I don't want to anger Lisbon on an empty stomach; sometimes she hits me and I don't want to encourage that particular behaviour this evening."

I smile a little as I sip my awful wine, I can feel the warmth of Jane's gaze as we both pretend he is not looking at me.

"Okay I can work with that. I have a great story where my darling Teresa nearly broke my friends arm."

Lies, utter lies; sort of.

"He wasn't your friend."

Excellent, pick that part of the story to debunk Teresa; good work.

"Interesting, I thought I was the only one you abused Lisbon; do you leave a trail of bruises and broken bones across the country?"

I think that is the weirdest sentence Jane has ever said to me, which is remarkable really.

"Patrick, it was amazing; my husband, Stephen, still talks about the incident with reverence and awe. Actually so do a lot of his buddies, well they talk about Teresa with reverence and awe but that might just be because she is magnificently hot."

Magnificently hot? Shooting her in the elbow isn't severe enough a punishment. I am genuinely going to hurt her when this is over. Truly.

"It was last summer and we had a house full of people, just a day of eating and drinking and generally hanging out. There were a lot of people there from my husband's work, and I had not personally vetoed them so a couple of ass holes had managed to sneak into one of my parties. And one of them, Chris, decided that little Teresa Lisbon was the woman for him. Well, certainly the woman for him that night."

My face is burning with embarrassment listening to this; it was bad enough at the time. I don't want Jane to hear this story. Jane is fine, I think, a little too smug though as he sneaks glances at me to watch my reaction to the story.

"And Lisbon had a different opinion from this Chris, I assume?"

"You assume correctly Patrick. He was very good looking this guy, don't get me wrong; but the personality was that of an ass. I remember him following Teresa around singing to her, that was a low. Stephen is a big Springsteen fan and there's a song where they narrative is about a woman named Teresa, naturally when that song played this was a sign for Chris to sing it to our Teresa all day."

That was not a good day; it was supposed to be barbeque, football and friends. And it was, sort of; but it would have been better if there hadn't been an idiot there. Actually I remember what I thought at the time, I would have been better if I had been there with a partner and then I wouldn't have needed to discourage the attention of a drunken fool. Depressingly the partner I thought of having with me had blond curly hair, and a fondness for wearing suits every day.

"Anyway, this went on for a couple of hours, and I could tell Teresa was doing her best to hold her temper because she didn't want to upset Stephen; I told her to punch him several times. Anyway, we had a game of football in our little garden, and Chris thought this would be a perfect excuse to demonstrate his masculinity to little Teresa. I wish I had the words to recreate what she did, it was beautiful. Basically, Teresa was on the opposite team from Chris and he was showing off – also I should tell you now he's about 6 ft. 3 and a big guy. But Teresa took him out, just tackled him to the ground as if he was nothing. It was beautiful, people actually applauded. It was beautiful. So, one of the things I love about you Teresa is how delicate you look but how powerful you can be; and that you can show it when you absolutely have to or you can keep a lid on it when you need to."

"He was an idiot, and I didn't mean to make such a scene or hurt his feelings."

"I know you didn't darling, that's another reason you are so delightful."

Jane is suspiciously silent, watching me with dark eyes and a fixed grin; I always worry about his silences more than his ramblings.

"I have another one, Patrick; another reason my family loves and adores Teresa Lisbon."

Now they are both watching me as Jill speaks, it's unnerving and not why I came here tonight. I risk looking at Jane and it feels like he hasn't blinked in forever, he just watches me in return as he fidgets with the cutlery on the table.

"My son Morgan was very young, probably about 18 months old and it was the first time he had met Teresa that he would remember her; it was the first time she had been able to visit since he was a baby. Anyway, we went to the park for the day – lots of my friends from Washington, and there were a lot of kids there. A lot of moms who Morgan knew well were there with their kids, it was a nice day. Anyway, while I was with my daughter, Morgan had a fall, I could hear him crying but I was too far away to be the first one to get to him. And he was with decent people, all those moms he knows well because of the amount of time we spend together; but it was Teresa he went to to be held. He ran to Teresa, who at this time he hadn't started to lovingly call Aunt Teesa; but he went to her to be held and to be helped to feel safe and to feel better. And he did this, of course, because instinctively he felt secure with Teresa; he felt her kindness and goodness and he trusted her. So my baby boy and his perfect instincts is another reason the Barkers adore Teresa Lisbon, we recognise her kindness and cherish that she shares this kindness with us."

Jill raises her glass to me as she finishes speaking, so I return the gesture and try very hard not to cry. I'm not sure why kindness should be a quality to be commented on; surely we should all just be kind. I raise my eyes to look at Jane and he has what looks suspiciously like tear tracks on his cheeks.

"Are you okay, Jane?"
I say the words before I think to censor them; forgetting we are outside in the world and whatever he is thinking he probably won't want to share. He smiles at me and wipes his tears away as he turns to look at Jill.

"That was a lovely story, and of course I understand why Morgan would trust Lisbon so much. He is obviously a young man of impeccable instincts, and Lisbon's kindness has very often been the only thing between me and despair. It's funny how children can unconsciously recognise goodness and safety in people. My daughter Charlotte was quite shy with strangers when she was very small, and we worried about her interaction with other children and adults. I used to take her for walks on Saturday mornings, and always on the way home we would stop by a little book store for a treat – Charlotte loved to be read to. And to read."

I don't know what to do, I'm afraid to move or breathe too loudly. I can't believe he's talking about Charlotte and more than that, although his expression is sombre and almost reverential, his eyes are shining with love as he talks of his little girl.

"So every week we would buy a new book; and every week I would try and get her to go to listen to the little story- time group the store ran for children on weekends. It was sweet; staff would read chapters to the children as they all sat together on the floor. I know Charlotte wanted to be involved, but she was just too shy to do it; and nothing her daddy could say would convince her it would be okay. One Saturday, however, the staff member reading the story was a woman I came to know as Elaine; and Elaine decided Charlotte should come with her and be involved. So she spoke to Charlotte, coaxed her into trying what she so desperately wanted to do; and her greatest weapon was her kindness and her goodness. Charlotte just believed in what Elaine told her, and that she would be safe with her. So while I watched from the side, with a lot of other nervous parents while my baby went to story time. And she loved it from then on, loved Miss Elaine most of all. She loved it."

I need to stop crying, it's not appropriate that I am crying when this is so clearly Patrick's pain. He is looking at Jill now, smiling a sad smile as she smiles just as sadly at him in return. She pretends awfully hard that she isn't every bit as kind as the rest of us, but my friend is quite peerless in her empathy and warmth.

"So, anyway, what I was trying to say was that… Actually my point got lost in the memory, but I know Morgan was smart to run to Lisbon for comfort; I've been doing it for years and she's never let me down even when she would have had every right to. I think I can see our waiter bringing our dinner over to the table, so before he gets here let's drink a toast to Lisbon – a tiny woman of enormous strength and enormous heart."

"I'm not tiny."

I smile my protested words at Jane, as he offers me a sad smile and we drink our disgusting wine.

The rest of the meal is less emotionally fraught. We enjoy the food, which is every bit as good as Jane suggested it would be. We talk of a concert Jill is going to next week with Stephen, and we talk a little of when I am going to be able to take any time to go visit. Jill graciously lets me not commit to any specific dates, but I do commit to visit as soon as I can.

It's a nice night; good food and eventually uncomplicated conversation with two people I care about very much. I think my life would be infinitely better if I spent more of my evenings like this.

But I should simply enjoy tonight for what it is, a treat; maybe even a moment out of time. We spend an hour or so eating too much, and Jill and I drink a little bit too much, and then suddenly it's time to leave and our little evening has to end and I have to say goodbye to my friend.

I am too quiet on the drive to the airport, but I can't quite summon the strength to join in the conversation. I sit in the back of Jane's ridiculous car beside Jill as she talks to him about favourite ways to cook lamb. About ten minutes into our journey while she is telling Jane about a particularly wonderful meal she ate in a restaurant in Rome, Jill silently takes my hand and holds it tightly in her own for the rest of the drive. I can't express how grateful I am for her discreet comfort. As the airport terminal comes into view I squeeze Jill's fingers one last time, and rouse myself from my self-involved reverie.

"Okay, Jill do you want us to come in with you or do you want dropped off?"

Patrick Jane can be very sweet sometimes. Jill leans forward, letting go of my hand, and instead leaning against the back of Jane's seat.

"Mr Jane it has been a pleasure, but you can let me out here. I'm going to use my little bit of alone time to get a coffee and people watch; what else is there to do at an airport?"

So the three of us get out the car to say our farewell. Jill hugs Patrick, and he seems to return her affection with no reservation. As Jane goes back to the car to get Jill's brief case from the trunk, I am pulled towards Jill into one of her signature fierce hugs.

"It's been so good to see you darling, but as always too brief. I like him very much; I want to say I approve but I know how much you would hate that."

I laugh into her shoulder as she whispers these words to me.
"I'll miss you Jill."

And I mean it very much; I always miss her very much.

"I'll miss you too. And I mean what I say about this one, don't give up. Okay? You deserve an equal Teresa, and I think you should remember that. Maybe he deserves that too."

"Okay."

I whisper that and hug Jill just a little harder. I hear Patrick coming back towards us so I loosen my hold and step away from my friend.

"You'll tell everyone I'm thinking about them and I'll come visit soon?"

"I will darling, just make sure you do."

And with that, Jill takes her briefcase from Jane, she kisses him on the cheek, repeats the gesture with me, then walks away into the airport. And just like that she is gone until the next time.

"Quite the woman."

"Yeah, she is something. Always seems a little too quiet after she leaves a room."

"I can see how that would be true. Okay Agent Lisbon, time for me to drive you home."

And suddenly we are back to Lisbon and Jane; his hand at the base of my spine while he guides me back to his car. He opens the door for me and grins as I sigh at how insufferably pleased with himself he seems to be.

Again the drive back is quiet, mainly because I am tired and full of food and wine and I drift in and out of sleep for most of the way home. But I keep my eyes open as Jane turns into my street. I should talk to him a little; make sure he is going to be okay tonight.

"Thank you for tonight, Jane. It was a lovely dinner; you were so right about what they can do with a steak."

"I told you Lisbon, I know food."

He's grinning at me now, back in the practised roles we play. I'm tired of that tonight though, after all that I have thought and felt these last few days; I am tired of our practised roles.

"It was lovely to hear you talk about Charlotte."

And just like that his grin is gone, and Jane is suddenly very interested in staring out of his window. But I am going to do this, it's probably time.

"I don't mean to hurt you, I could never want that. But it was beautiful to hear you enjoying remembering her; it was beautiful to hear in your voice how much you love her. I wish you could enjoy the memories of your family more, that you could embrace how very happy they made you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but it doesn't make what you do now any less meaningful if you look on them with love rather than sorrow and remorse."

He remains still, staring out the window in a place I can't reach him; and I realise suddenly I have gone too far. It is okay for me to argue with him about Red John, but I shouldn't tell him how to feel. I couldn't possibly know, so why would my opinion even be relevant.

As I think of ways to apologise I see movement out of the corner of my eyes, and suddenly my left hand is clasped between both of Jane's. He has turned slightly in his seat, staring at me with unfathomable eyes.

"I'm sorry Patrick, I'm sorry, please ignore me. I'm truly sorry."

And he remains silent but moves my hand to his mouth and rests his lips on my knuckles. We pass long moments in the darkness and silence of his car; I can feel his breath against my fingers as he holds my hand to his mouth. Just as I begin to wonder if it would be better to move and snap him out of his silent contemplation, he kisses my knuckles. The most gentle brush of his lips against my skin, again and again. And then he goes back to holding my hand against his lips while he breathes in and out.

"Jane?"

I hate to disturb him, but I can't have him drive off into the night like this; especially when this is all my fault.

"Jane, will come in with me? Can I make you some tea? Please, just come in and sit with me for a little while. Okay?"

He places a tiny kiss to my knuckles again as he finally releases my hand; I never thought the most intense kiss of my life would be the hint of the touch of lips to my hand.

"Teresa…"

I jump a little when he speaks startled, I think, that he has the wherewithal to remember even how to talk to me now.

"I would love some tea, Teresa. I would love to drink some tea with you."

So that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to drink tea with Patrick Jane, and this is all very, very normal.

We're going to drink tea.

This is all very, very normal.