Author's Note: I was rushing a bit to get this up before tonight's episode, so I hope it holds its own with the first part. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first part and/or followed/favorited!

Lisbon was tired, and the wine had made her sleepy, but as she lay in bed, sleep proved impossible. She kept replaying the evening in her head, trying to figure out how she should feel about it.

One part of her was overjoyed. The man she had been hopelessly in love with for years had apparently decided he was in love with her too—and even better, he'd decided to do something about it.

Another, growing, part of her was confused. Jane didn't say those things, do those things. It was like being with a stranger who happened to have her friend's beautiful eyes and face. And voice. And hands. God, those hands. How many times had she admired those long, graceful fingers and stopped herself from wondering what they'd feel like against her skin? How many times had she replayed waking up in the hospital and having him stroke her hair? And now she had a whole other series of caresses to recall. She shivered a little as her body reacted to the memory of his touch.

He wanted her. The idea was new, almost preposterous—and a little alarming. She didn't know what he might be thinking, and she couldn't discount the possibility that he was messing with her to ensure she stayed with him and the FBI. Even more worrying, he might be thinking about a long-term relationship. She didn't do those. She might not even be capable of it. And what if they tried a romantic relationship and it didn't work out? She would lose him for good. The thought was terrifying.

Jane was the person who knew her best. He paid attention to the little things, allowing him to comfort, amuse, or annoy her according to what he felt was called for. She had no doubt that if he set out to get her into bed, it would happen. If he wanted a romance, she'd make the attempt. She loved him, so hope would always triumph over experience—or rational thought.

Of course, there were many kinds of love. It was also possible that what Jane felt for her was a friendly love, not this huge, feverish, all-consuming feeling she had. But if that was true, would she be able to sustain a casual relationship without wanting more? She would be at a distinct disadvantage in that situation.

Wasn't there an ancient curse that went something like "May you get what you wish for"? She wondered if her priest would say God was punishing her for wanting things for herself instead of being grateful for what He chose to give her. But she had been grateful for her job, that was for sure. She'd been resigned that the exciting, risky part of her life was done and resolved to enjoy an everyday life. She'd been very glad that Jane had chosen to live and that he was safe and not stirring up more trouble for himself.

And she'd been so grateful for the letters. To be reassured that he was okay and thinking about her was more than she'd ever expected. Each one was worth the sharp pang of missing him all over again as she heard his voice in her head speaking the words he'd written.

But she knew she'd romanticized him in his absence. He hadn't written things to annoy her, after all. And his wistful confessions of missing her were easily given a romantic slant in her mind that he might not have meant. And even if he had meant them, what if he'd romanticized her memory? In the rush of happiness at being together again, it would be easy to mistake friendship for something more.

Jane was a creature of habit. He had his cherished routines, like the number of times he dunked his tea bag. In the upheavals his life had undergone, she might represent a comforting constant. What if he was attracted to her because of her familiarity, and after he'd made a new, stable life for himself he woke up one day and realized he'd made a mistake? Could she keep working with him if he was the one to end things? She didn't see how.

Trying to figure out what was going on in Jane's head was a sure road to insanity. She had to knock it off, or she'd never get any sleep. Just for tonight, maybe she could let herself focus on his delicious kisses and talented fingers. She could treasure the fact that he loved her without trying to figure out the details. One night snuggled up with her dreams wasn't too much to ask, was it?

She thought about how it could be if neither of them screwed it up: solving cases and going home together at the end of the day, relaxing in each other's arms and having fantastic sex. She could be happy with that, and she hoped she could make Jane happy too. At least she knew him, his moods, his trigger points, his frustrating quirks. She doubted he held very many more surprises for her, though she was sure there would be a few.

Maybe, she realized, that was what made her an attractive choice for him. He didn't have to explain his past or the scars he carried. It would be daunting to face explaining his life to someone new. What would he say? "I went on TV and pissed off a serial killer, so he killed my wife and daughter. I spent some time in a mental institution, then decided to get revenge. So I joined the CBI and spent a decade tracking him. Finally I found him and choked the life out of him with my bare hands."

Yeah, that was first date material. The poor woman would climb out the bathroom window halfway through dinner, no matter how sexy and charming he was.

Maybe she wasn't a bad choice for him after all. She knew what he was capable of, his cruelty and kindness, his generosity and selfishness. She could keep him from self-destructing at the FBI and support him as he tried to move on from his past. That was why he'd insisted on bringing her on board, wasn't it? And he surely knew he couldn't pursue another woman without disrupting their relationship. So he'd probably looked at all the angles and concluded that if he wanted a romantic relationship, she was his only safe choice.

But since when did Jane make safe choices?

Argh. She really was going to make herself crazy thinking like this. She needed some sleep. Things would probably look different in the morning.

She devoted the rest of her waking minutes to praying for guidance and wisdom, for both herself and Jane.

mmm

Lisbon felt like she'd only been asleep for a minute when her cell phone buzzed. She reached blindly for it and blinked until her eyes focused enough to read the text.

It was from Abbott, informing her that they had a new case and Fischer would be there to pick them up at 7 a.m. She bit back a curse. So much for her and Jane having time to figure things out. There was no chance they could resolve anything with Fischer as a third wheel. Lisbon still didn't know the whole story of Fischer's history with Jane, but she'd tried to tell herself it didn't matter. She couldn't hold it against him that he'd been interested in another woman when he'd had no real expectation of seeing her again, right? And he'd insisted on working with her even after he'd known Fischer was assigned to him.

At least Fischer was preferable to Abbott. The smug bastard had barely contained his glee when he'd asked her if she was sure she wanted to take responsibility for Jane not running off this weekend. "I'm sure you're aware that federal prison isn't a good place for a cop," he'd said. "Especially you. I hear the Blake Association has its own little empire behind prison walls. They'd love to get their hands on you, I bet. Are you sure Jane won't run off and leave you holding the bag?"

She'd assured him that Jane wasn't going anywhere. At least he'd stopped referring to Jane as her boyfriend, which she found demeaning to them both, as if she wouldn't have done what she'd done unless sex was involved.

It was a little after four o'clock. Lisbon realized she probably wouldn't get back to sleep anyway, so she might as well finish packing. With a groan, she rolled out of bed and grabbed her robe from the hook on the back of her door. As she shuffled down the hall, she decided to check in on Jane, so she carefully opened the guest room door.

She frowned at the unoccupied bed in the darkness, then reached for the light switch. The bed was not only empty; it hadn't been slept in at all.

Oh God. Had he run off after all? No. She wouldn't believe that.

Had she just dreamed the whole thing? Maybe she'd fallen asleep after reading Jane's latest letter and made up his return. Maybe he was still on a beach somewhere and she hadn't heard from the FBI since Abbott's visit.

Would she really have made up Kim Fischer, though?

Turning off the light, she went out to the living room, stopping short at the sight of Jane curled up on the couch, his hands tucked between his knees. For a moment it was almost as if she'd been whisked back in time to the CBI bullpen, coming to wake him up after he'd been up to something at the office all night. She couldn't help a smile.

As if he felt her gaze, he blinked, yawning, and gave her a sleepy smile. In the light of the single lamp, his golden curls glowed above his sea-colored eyes. He was unbelievably beautiful to her in that moment.

"Nice robe," he murmured, looking amused. "Very polar bear."

"Ha, ha. Why are you on the couch?" She fought the urge to put her hands on her hips.

"I was feeling nostalgic," he said, sitting up. "It reminded me of the couch in your old office. I had some really good naps there."

"Yes, I know." As the throw slid off him, she was glad to see he'd at least taken his jacket off.

"Is something wrong?" His expression faded to a frown as he studied her.

"I got a text from Abbott. We have a case. Fischer will be here at seven."

"In the morning?" Jane rolled his eyes. "I can't say I missed the working hours. I'll make us a nice breakfast while you finish packing." He heaved himself off the couch with an exaggerated sigh. "Since I don't imagine the FBI will allow time for more than a muffin at the airport." He took the few steps to her, then leaned forward and gave her a soft, lingering kiss. "Good morning, my dear."

"I don't see what's so good about it," she grumbled, but she couldn't help a little smile. She could get used to being kissed good morning like that.

"We're alive and together," he pointed out. "Though I agree having our plans rearranged isn't ideal. But I'm thinking you have some things you want to work out before we go too much further anyway."

She couldn't really deny that. "Coffee," she muttered, heading for the kitchen.

While she brewed her coffee, Jane put the kettle on and began rummaging in the refrigerator. She warned, "I don't think I can eat this early."

"I know. I'm just planning," he responded, closing the fridge and opening the cupboard where she kept her mugs. He handed her one and took out one for himself. She wished she had a real teacup to offer him. Maybe she'd buy some.

That reminded her that she had never asked him what would make him happy. Now that Red John was gone, it was an open question. He obviously hadn't been happy as a beach bum, or he wouldn't have come back.

After she poured her coffee and he prepared his tea, they sat at the small kitchen table and sipped. She had almost forgotten how nice it was to sit with him and not have to say anything.

When she began to feel a little more awake, Jane spoke up. "I think I'll get my shower now. Then I can make breakfast while you get ready."

"Okay." But as he started to get up, she reached for his arm. "Hey, Jane. What would make you happy?"

He sat back down, looking closely at her as if he wasn't sure she was serious. Then he smiled. "I want to be understood. I want someone I can trust enough to be myself around. Someone who truly knows me and loves me anyway. Someone who makes me want to be a better person. Fortunately for me, I already have all of that in you. You don't need to try to make me happy, Lisbon. You already do. Just being with you makes me happy."

She was touched, but wary. It couldn't be that simple, could it? She'd long ago figured out that Jane trusted very few people and that she was near the top of that list. But was that really all he wanted?

Jane reached out and tapped a finger against her hands, which were locked around her coffee cup. "Of course," he added, "I won't deny that in a perfect world, you'd wear a dress now and then. And maybe talk with me about literature or art or something. Just like I'm sure you'd prefer it if I were interested in sports and a little more well versed in modern technology."

"A lot more," she agreed.

"My point is," he said, "nobody gets everything they want in a partner. But in you, I have the important things. The deal breakers. The rest of it I can live without. You've put up with me for a long time now, so I'm thinking that's true for you too."

She took another sip of her coffee and tried to gather her nerve. Jane spared her having to ask, though. "And no, children aren't part of my plans. I remember how much energy it took to run around after a toddler. I'm well past that stage. So I'm not going to leave you for a leggy twenty-two-year-old who wants a big family. And I'm not going to ask you to risk your health and happiness trying to have a baby at your age."

She grimaced at the reference to her age, but she couldn't deny that she was relieved. She was coming up on the midpoint of her forties, no time to be trying for a first baby. And their new jobs weren't exactly family friendly. "But you are looking for something long term."

"Yes. We don't have to make a formal commitment. I know that's not your thing. We don't have to give it a label either. I just want us to be together." He smiled a little, and she had the distinct feeling that might not be the whole truth. He was probably just trying not to spook her by going overboard, which she hoped indicated a new level of respect for her comfort zone.

"And not see other people?" She felt this was worth clarifying. She wanted no more heartburn over Jane and other women.

"Most definitely not see other people," he said firmly. He frowned. "You're not hiding a boyfriend up here, are you?"

"No. I just don't want to worry about what you and Agent Fischer are up to when my back is turned," she replied.

Jane laughed as if she'd been joking. "No need to worry about that. She's already wishing she'd never met me and wondering why she didn't spot what an asshole I was back in Venezuela."

"Because you're only an asshole when you have a reason to be?" Lisbon suggested.

"Meh. I was just grateful to have someone to talk to," he shrugged. Then he grinned. "But now I have you for that. Agent Fischer is the authority figure I am compelled by my very nature to torture."

Lisbon shook her head, biting back a smile. "I am so glad I'm not your boss anymore."

"Me too." He tapped at her fingers again, and this time she freed one hand for him to hold. "I always liked it better when you were my partner instead of my boss."

"Yeah," she admitted, "me too."

Jane smiled at her. "Good. Now, let me set your mind at rest. I'll promise not to push you about our relationship while we're on this case if you'll promise to go out to dinner with me as soon as it's over."

"Does that mean you'll try to actually solve the case instead of using it as an excuse to mess with everyone you meet?" she asked.

"You say that like it's an either/or thing. I assure you I'm perfectly capable of doing both at the same time." His tone was offended, but his eyes were amused. "However, I propose an addendum: I will refrain from the many, many things you term unprofessional behavior on this case if you'll wear a dress on our date."

Lisbon was curious to see if he was actually capable of behaving perfectly. "Only if you promise to watch a football game with me if you misbehave."

"I believe that turns this agreement into a bet," he grinned. "And I'll take it."

"Deal." She turned her hand in his to shake it, thinking, This should be interesting.

"There. That's why we belong together. Compromise, the foundation of every healthy relationship." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, then got to his feet. "I'll see you in a few minutes. Unless of course you choose to join me in the shower."

"Is that an invitation?" She was not awake enough for this, she thought. On the other hand, certain body parts were becoming very awake at the image he'd planted in her head.

"Consider it a standing one," he called over his shoulder.

"I'll take a rain check," she called back.

When she finished her coffee, she got to her feet to pour a fresh cup. As she did, she heard the shower in the hall bathroom come on and took a moment to appreciate the fact that she had Patrick Jane in her house, naked. That was a lovely start to a day that was probably going to be long, hard, and annoying.

She was an idiot. She should take full advantage of this rare opportunity, she realized. She put her mug down, shrugged out of her robe and threw it on her chair, and hurried down the hall, pulling off her tank top as she went.

He hadn't locked the door, a thoughtful touch she appreciated as she closed it behind her and shimmied out of her sleep pants and underwear. Then she pulled back the shower curtain and stepped into the back of the tub.

Jane was grinning like a madman. "I'm so glad you changed your mind," he said smugly.

She wondered briefly if he'd planted the suggestion in some sneaky way to ensure she couldn't resist. But really, he hadn't needed to. She'd been hot for him since their make out session in front of the fireplace. "Oh, shut up and fuck me," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," he laughed. "I really do love it when you get all authoritarian."

"Then get a move on, because I still expect breakfast, and I'm damned if I'm going to feed your keeper too." It didn't come out as firmly as she liked, because she was intensely distracted by a detailed scrutiny of his body, a mystery she'd long wanted to solve.

"You're my keeper," he replied, pulling her into his arms and holding her against his soapy chest. "I'll never let anyone else keep me." Then he kissed her, hot and hungry, pressing her against the tiled wall. She kissed him back with equal fervor, lifting one leg to open herself to him as she reached down to squeeze his ass. He moaned and nipped at her bottom lip, then pulled back with a slightly shaky smile. "Allow me to wash your hair," he said.

"Later. Quit messing around. You promised you'd behave," she pointed out, gripping his shoulders to keep him from going anywhere.

"On the case," he argued, his eyes twinkling at her. "When it comes to sex, it's my job to drive you crazy. And I will always take that job very seriously."

God help her, she thought with a smile.

mmm

Lisbon tried to tamp down her satisfied grin as she opened the door to Agent Fischer. "Good morning. We're almost ready to go; come on in."

"Sorry to cut your weekend short," Fischer said as she stepped inside. "Nice place."

"Thanks. I'll get my bag." As she walked through the living room, she called, "Jane, you almost done?"

"Getting there," he responded from the kitchen. "My bag's near the door." He stuck his head through the doorway and said, "Good morning, Agent Fischer. I'm just finishing up the dishes and I'll be right with you."

"Need some help?" she asked.

"No, just have a seat," he replied.

Lisbon came back with her bag and dropped it near the door beside Jane's. "So what's the case?" she asked.

"Classified files missing from a locked room. Surveillance shows no one going in or out, and there's no sign it's been tampered with." Fischer sighed. "I hate these kinds of cases."

Jane joined them, rolling his sleeves down and picking up his jacket from the arm of the couch. "Sounds like a good one. I hope you had a relaxing day off."

"Yes. Did you enjoy your visit?" she asked politely.

"Oh, very much," he grinned. "I'm very happy I came. Aren't you glad you invited me, Lisbon?"

"I didn't," she reminded him, narrowing her eyes at him a little. She hadn't thought to tell him she'd prefer to keep their change in status quiet, but she should have expected him to amuse himself at her expense. "But I can't complain, since you not only cooked, but did the dishes."

"Ah, that reminds me." Jane went back into the kitchen and emerged with two travel mugs. He handed her one smelling deliciously of coffee and sipped at his own. "Now we're ready to go."

Lisbon smiled her thanks at him, and he smiled back, picking up both bags. She reached out to take hers, but he wouldn't let her. "I've got it. It's the least I can do to repay your gracious hospitality," he said cheerfully.

"Fine, if it makes you happy," she sighed.

"It does." He gave her his happiest smile to prove it.

Fischer was looking at both of them, trying to figure out what was going on. Lisbon hoped she enjoyed that feeling, because it happened a lot working with Jane.

She opened the door and gestured for the others to precede her so she could lock up behind them. When she finished, she turned to find that Jane had put their bags in the back of the SUV and was waiting for her with that sunny smile she loved.

As she walked over to him, she felt herself smiling back. No matter what the day held, they were alive and together.

And happy.