AN: Hello lovely readers! Many thanks for the continued interest in this story (and for response to the latest installment in the In Case series). It's such a joy to write for you all.

I'm particularly excited about this chapter because it addresses a throwaway sentence I tucked away in the middle of When I Fall. I absolutely adore foreshadowing!

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.

Chapter 5: Pierce the Room

The wind for which Chicago was so famous had picked up on their drive to Stan's house, and though the walk to the porch was short, both Jane and Lisbon sported pink noses by the time Lisbon pressed her finger to the doorbell. Jane was nearly buzzing with nervous energy beside her, and Lisbon stretched up on her toes to kiss the corner of his mouth, and he touched his lips to her forehead as they heard a heavy pair of feet approaching the door on the other side.

"Stan, who is it?" yelled a shrill voice.

"I'll let you know once I've opened the door, dear," came the reply, all sarcasm, and Lisbon grinned.

The door swung inward, and Lisbon got her first look at her brother in over a year.

"Hi Stan," she said tentatively.

Stan was a clearly Lisbon's brother: short but muscular, with emerald eyes and dark brown hair. Lisbon looked over him nervously as she waited for him to say something, but he stared at her for five whole seconds, jaw slightly lowered in confusion.

Finally, he spoke. "Tee?" he said, the disbelief in his tone obvious. After another second, he engulfed Lisbon in his arms, and she hugged him back enthusiastically. They broke apart, Stan clearly not concerned with the cold—or the fact that his bare feet were in contact with two inches of fresh snow.

"Teresa, what the hell are you doing here?" he asked, a grin plastered across his face. The smile disappeared for a second. "Where the hell have you been for the better part of the year? Jimmy and I have been—we've been worried. Worried shitless."

"It's a long story," said Lisbon. "But maybe I could explain inside?"

"Right, of course," said Stan, and he stood aside to let them through. As Jane passed him, Stan finally seemed to notice his presence, and he gave Jane a scrutinizing look. "And you're Patrick," he guessed.

"Guilty," said Jane with a small smile and shrug. He stuck out his hand, and Stan shook it.

"You know," Stan said, in a tone that was both warm and warning at the same time, "Tee's told me a lot about you."

"Teresa never lies, so I own up to everything she's said I've done."

Stan examined Jane for a second. When he determined that Jane was being truthful, he clapped Jane on the shoulder and burst out laughing.

"So the story about the pony for her birthday—you actually did that?"

"Definitely guilty," said Jane, nodding.

"I like this one, Tee. I'm assuming he's here to stay?"

Jane glanced at Lisbon like he was interested to hear the answer to that question as well.

Lisbon blushed. "If I have anything to say about it, yes," she finally said.

Stan ushered them down the hallway. "Good," he said. "Took you both long enough."

Lisbon shot a glance at Jane as they followed Stan into the living room, and they were soon joined by Stan's wife, Karen, who had just put their children to bed.

After exclamations of greeting from Karen, who offered to pour some wine for her guests, the four of them sat down in the living room, though Stan soon got up to phone Jimmy. When he returned, he said, "Jimmy's heading over—he thought I was just messing with him when I said you'd finally showed up. Granted, most of what I do is mess with him, but I can be serious when I need to be!"

Lisbon snorted. "Right."

"Of course you can, dear," said Karen, patting Stan lightly on his arm while mouthing No he can't to Lisbon in exaggerated obviousness.

Mid-laugh, Lisbon looked over at Jane, and she nearly stopped breathing.

It was the first time in a long while that she had seen him smile so genuinely. He looked at peace—he looked happy. And finally it hit her.

Jane had a family again.

Jimmy arrived a half hour later, and though Lisbon was anxious to see how he and Jane would interact, she needn't have worried. Jane could charm almost anybody, and the Lisbon brothers—like their sister—weren't immune to his infectious grin and grandiose stories. By the time Lisbon suggested they leave—it was getting on 11 o'clock and they had a case to work in the morning—Jane actually looked disappointed.

In the car on the drive back to the hotel, Jane looked over at Lisbon. "You were particularly adept at dodging their questions as to why we were in town," he noted. "When are you going to tell them about the cold case?"

Lisbon glanced at him. "I need to tell them soon. But I just couldn't do it tonight. Not on the first night I'd seen them in over a year."

The snow had started up again, and Lisbon drove slowly as she navigated on slippery roads. "You noticed Jimmy's been gambling?"

Jane nodded. "He kept fiddling with something in his pocket—probably a pair of dice—and checking scores of sports events on his phone. He was subtle, but it was noticeable. How do you think he'd respond to hypnotherapy?"

"I don't know," said Lisbon. "I was thinking maybe he'd more open to it if I was the one hypnotizing him. You think I'd be able to?"

Jane nodded. "I think that it actually has a better chance of working if you do it, since he knows you better and obviously trusts you."

Lisbon sighed. "Jimmy's not the only one I'm worried about," she admitted. "Stan mentioned he wants to start his own contracting business, but I think money is tight with him and Karen. I don't want him going to the wrong people for money."

"Hmmm," said Jane.

Lisbon pulled into the hotel parking lot and folded her arms across her chest. "Hmmm…what?"

"I've been looking for a business to invest in."

"Sheep dip."

"I'm serious! I'd be happy to help him out. And then later, when we decide to build the house of our dreams, Stan can return the favor."

"Jane, you can't keep offering to spend exorbitant amounts of money on me and my family. First with the offer to pay for Northwestern and now to finance Stan's business—it's crazy!"

"Meh," said Jane with a shrug. "But really, Lisbon, what's the point of having all this money just sitting around? It's of no use to me in a bank account or tied up in stocks."

"It makes me uncomfortable—accepting a gift like that," admitted Lisbon. "It's just too much."

"Teresa…" Jane began, and her expression softened at his use of her first name. "Look, Teresa, we're a family now—meaning everything I have is yours. The money's half yours now. If the idea of accepting money from me makes you uncomfortable, think of it like this: you're financing your own education—you're giving your brother a loan."

Lisbon wanted to stand her ground and defend her point, but Jane's reasoning was sound, and she couldn't argue with him. Eventually, she smiled shyly and shook her head. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

His answering grin was ridiculously soppy. "I do."

Lisbon leaned across the center console and kissed him. She reached up to touch the side of his face.

"I love you."

Jane grinned. "I'm very happily aware."

The next day, Lisbon and Jane sat down with Jimmy and Stan to explain what they could about the case while Cho and Rigsby interviewed Dellinger, Jr. Neither session proved particularly illuminating: the Lisbon brothers had been too young at the time of their father's death to remember much of anything during that time period, and Dellinger, Jr. refused to utter a single word.

The day after that, Van Pelt and Wylie visited the daughter of the deceased pathologist, who told them that she'd attended a private university in Minnesota for college and that her parents had struggled to help her pay off her student loans.

"That explains why the pathologist took the bribe," Lisbon had said. "His daughter's tuition caused him to go into major debt."

After hitting a dead end trying to talk with Dellinger, Jr., the team became increasingly frustrated when interviews with friends and family of the Dellingers—both father and son—revealed little, though they did learn that the family was known for owning unregistered firearms. Jane waved this off. "Well, obviously," he'd said. "They are a mob family."

The team's most promising lead arrived in the form of Scarlet Jackson, who was the girlfriend of Dellinger, Sr. at the time of his death and the adoptive mother of Dellinger, Jr. She voluntarily arrived at the FBI Chicago Field office for questioning when Rigsby called her in.

The whole team watched her from observation before Jane and Lisbon began the interrogation. "Why would she agree to come in voluntarily when Dellinger, Jr. wouldn't?" asked Rigsby thoughtfully.

"Beats me," said Van Pelt, "but the fact that she was willing to come down here either means she's innocent or incredibly arrogant."

"Could be both," said Cho with a shrug.

"Probably both," said Jane. "But I think we'll get something useful out of her regardless."

Jane opened the door to interrogation and stepped aside so Lisbon could enter first, and she pulled out a pen and notebook as Jane closed the door behind them. Lisbon sat in one of the two chairs facing away from the observation window; Jane ignored the other chair, choosing instead to stand in the corner of the room, looking surly and contemplative.

Lisbon introduced herself then informed Scarlet of her rights and that the interview would be recorded. As she recited the dialogue—spouted so many times in a previous life that it once again came naturally—Lisbon looked at the woman across the table from her. She was in her mid-sixties, but Lisbon would have guessed she was far younger—she had the kind of facial features which never seemed to age, giving the illusion that she was becoming more attractive with every passing year. Her blue eyes never left Lisbon and lingered for a second too long on Lisbon's cross necklace.

Lisbon's eyes narrowed. She'd seen that look on Jane many times when he tried to cold read someone. Hell, she'd worn that same look when she tried to make deductions.

Jane coughed behind her, and she knew he'd noticed the same thing.

They'd have to be careful during this interview.

"Scarlet, you knew John Dellinger, Sr., correct?"

Scarlet nodded. "That's right," she said. "I met him the year I turned twenty-five. We were…" She searched for the right word before continuing. "We were acquaintances for many years before he died in that fire."

"'Acquaintances'?" asked Jane.

Scarlet sent him a condescending smile. "Isn't that what the kids are calling it these days?" She paused, her eyes moving from Jane to Lisbon and back again. "For example, it's obvious that the two of you are…acquaintances. I knew it from the moment you walked in together. Your auras practically scream sexual satisfaction."

Lisbon blushed furiously, and she had to look down at the table in order to pull herself together enough to use some of Jane's biofeedback techniques. "You're a psychic?" she asked when she'd gathered her composure.

"Holistic healer," corrected Scarlet impatiently. "There's a difference."

"Not to me," said Jane, ignoring Scarlet's deduction. "So you were sleeping with him, then? You must have been distraught when he died."

It was blunt, and a tad heartless, but Lisbon didn't reprimand him.

Scarlet's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You're suggesting I killed the fireman who didn't save John?"

"No one said anything about murder," said Lisbon.

"It doesn't take a genius to figure out that's why I'm here," said Scarlet scathingly. "I pay attention—Robert Lisbon, the fireman in question, was exhumed a few days ago. It's obvious you're looking into his death. Clearly, revenge is my motive."

Lisbon raised her eyebrows. Did she say what I think she just said?

Scarlet continued. "I didn't say I did it. In fact, I didn't, and you'll find that out once you've torn my life apart looking for evidence. Might as well save yourselves some trouble."

"Oh," said Jane, "it's really no trouble at all, but thank you for your concern."

Lisbon tried to get the interview back on track. Neither she nor Jane actually believed that Scarlet had killed Robert Lisbon, but hopefully she could give them something useful on their main suspect.

"How close are you with John Dellinger, Jr.?" asked Lisbon.

"Well, he's my stepson, so…" Scarlet answered, then said nothing. Very sarcastically.

"There's no record of a marriage between you and Dellinger, Sr." Lisbon noted.

"Ours was…a nontraditional sort of union," said Scarlet. "And you won't find any records stating that I adopted John either. But I did, and I raised him from the time he was five years old."

"Let's fast forward to the time of Robert Lisbon's death," said Lisbon. "Your stepson was about twenty years old at the time?"

Scarlet leaned back in her chair and let out an amused breath. "I see," she said. "You aren't interested in me at all. You think my stepson killed that firefighter."

"Did he?" asked Jane.

"You won't find any evidence which indicates he did."

Jane shifted behind Lisbon. "That's not the same thing as saying he's innocent," he pointed out.

"Did you or your stepson own any firearms at the time of Robert Lisbon's death?" asked Lisbon.

"Why are you asking me this? I'm sure you're well aware that he did."

"And I'm sure you're well aware that we've been unable to confirm which weapons he owned," added Lisbon coldly. Without word back from Clark, who was still attempting to reverse engineer the bullet, a warrant allowing them to search Dellinger's property had proved impossible to come by.

"Then I'm afraid I can't help you," said Scarlet, with a disdainful look at Lisbon, and she said no more.

Lisbon shot a glance over at Jane and was surprised to see a similar look of disdain on his face, though his was directed at Scarlet. Lisbon turned her attention back to the woman sitting across from her. She glanced over Scarlet's face curiously, knowing there was some connection she needed to make—but her brain couldn't quite bridge the neural gaps.

Suddenly, Lisbon tensed.

Holy shit, she thought, and then: Damn it.

She internally debated her options. After a few seconds, she determined her theory was highly improbable, but she would lose nothing by testing said theory. She began threading together a story out loud, knowing Scarlet's reactions would tell her whether or not she was close to the truth.

Lisbon closed her notebook. "You married Dellinger, Sr. after leaving an abusive relationship?" she asked, feeling quietly triumphant when the blood drained from Scarlet's face.

She heard Jane move behind her, and she knew he was wondering what she'd picked up on that he'd missed.

Lisbon continued. "Dellinger saved you, isn't that right, Scarlet? The man you were previously married to abused you—emotionally and physically."

"How the hell…there are no records of either of my marriages…"

"Your abuser—he was a nomad, and when you fell in love with him, you didn't know of his history of abuse," said Lisbon. "But after two years—and a baby—you knew you had to get out. And Dellinger happened to find you precisely when you needed an escape."

"How the hell do you know this?" breathed Scarlet.

"But you had to leave the baby," Lisbon said, her voice wavering slightly. "You couldn't go back for the baby—because your first husband threatened you, and it wasn't safe."

Scarlet's eyes were wide and anxious. Lisbon watched her with revulsion and horror—because Lisbon knew who the abandoned baby had grown up to be.

Jane.

Lisbon turned around in her seat to face him, and he took one look at her distraught face and put the pieces together. His mask slid back into place.

Jane hadn't needed to mask his emotions in nearly a year, ever since he'd agreed to teach Lisbon his secrets in South America. Seeing the mask once again made Lisbon sick.

Jane crossed the room and sat down in the chair next to Lisbon. He reached for her hand under the table and gave it a gentle squeeze. Lisbon forced herself to calm down.

Meanwhile, Scarlet had finally composed herself. "I don't see how any of that is relevant to your investigation."

Jane ignored her. "Your first husband's name was Alexander Jane."

Lisbon felt his hand tense in hers. She squeezed back.

Scarlet ran a hand through her hair and took a deep breath. "I haven't heard that name in nearly forty years," she breathed, and her eyes narrowed at Jane. She glanced over him, taking in his hands, his face, the set of his shoulders, his hair. Finally she breathed in sharply and put a hand over her mouth.

"My god," she said. "Your aura…it's his."

Jane just stared at her, never moving an inch.

"Patty?" asked Scarlet in a low voice.

Jane stood up from his chair. "Thanks for keeping in touch," he said, and he walked out of the room, leaving Lisbon staring, flabbergasted, at the door as it slammed behind him.

AN: For those wondering, Jane's mother was brought up in Chapter 5 of When I Fall when Jane gave Lisbon his mother's jewelry box.