AN: Thanks again for your continued interest in this story (and for the amazing response to last chapter). We're past the two-thirds mark in this story, so we're nearing the end. Hang in there!
Around noon the next day, Lisbon drops him off at the parking lot of his old motel to retrieve his Citroen. They hesitate, standing between their two cars in the nearly deserted lot in the boiling heat of midday.
He wants nothing more than to remain by her side for every minute he has left in his life, but their relationship is so new, so fragile, and he is afraid to push things too far. So, instead, he reaches for her hips and moves her toward him, leaning down to kiss her.
When her arms come up to wrap around his neck, he's pretty sure she can feel his ridiculous grin, and this only makes him smile more.
"I should let you go," he murmurs against her.
"Should you? Maybe. Do I want you to? Not particularly," says Lisbon. He feels his heart somersault in his chest at her words.
He's never been so reluctant to pull away from her. "We need to slow down."
She eliminates the distance he's put between them. "Debatable."
Jane kisses her once more before pulling away for good. "I had no idea Teresa Lisbon was such a rule-breaker."
He's never seen her green eyes so intense. "Only regarding things I really care about," she responds.
He nearly gathers her in his arms again but forces himself to reach for his keys. "I'll see you tomorrow," he says.
A look of worry suddenly flashes across her face, but she's quick to hide it. "Jane, about work…"
"I know," he says. "You're concerned about professionalism. I promise I'll behave."
"You will?"
He chuckles. "Lisbon," he says. "You forget that you are holding all the cards in this relationship." He elaborates at her look of confusion. "Making you angry would only lead to problems in our personal life. I'm keen to avoid any such problems—hence, I'll be on my best behavior at the office."
Jane watches as comprehension dawns on her. She flushes. "Whatever works," she murmurs, and Jane laughs again.
He leans over to kiss her on the check. "Until tomorrow," he says.
"See you then," he hears her answer, and he watches her get in her car and drive away before unlocking his Citroen and climbing in. He takes a deep breath, then opens the glove compartment.
Inside, as he'd expected, lies a burner phone. Jane turns it on, not surprised to find only one number programmed into the contacts.
He debates waiting until he's made it back to his new apartment to make the call he's been dreading for more than a day, but he eventually decides calling Red John in his new home would taint it forever. Instead, he hits the dial button before starting up his car.
Carter answers after the second ring.
"Patrick," says the too-cheery voice. "I was expecting to hear from you. How are things in Sacramento?"
"Fine." Though he makes a deliberate attempt to keep the bitterness out of his voice, Jane's tone is clipped.
"So that silly little misunderstanding between you and Teresa has been cleared up?"
Jane would hesitate to call his argument with Lisbon "silly," "little," or a "misunderstanding," but he doesn't tell Carter this. "Yes, we've patched things up."
"I hear you've signed a lease. And in a very safe neighborhood as well. You have my word: no harm will come to Teresa while she is there with you."
"No harm will come to Teresa at all," Jane corrects.
"Ah, yes—I'll hold up my end if you hold up yours. So you have information for me?"
Jane rattles off the words before he loses his nerve. "Lisbon ordered her team to send any evidence regarding your case outside the CBI for analysis. So far, that includes the note and my tox screen."
Carter waits a few moments before responding. "An intriguing move," he muses. "Some might call it paranoid, in fact." Jane hears him breathe in deeply before beginning to speak again. "She's a smart woman, your Teresa. And thank you, Patrick, for informing me of this. It is exactly the sort of information which I find invaluable."
Before Carter can disconnect, Jane hurries to add one more thing.
"You wanted to know when I planned to travel out of the state," he says in a low voice, hating that he has to do this.
He thinks back to his days at Carter's mansion, when they'd gone over their contract. Though Jane had had just one condition—Lisbon's safety, and that of her team and family—Carter had had several.
Including informing him of any major travel plans.
"Yes, I did," confirms Carter.
"I want to surprise Lisbon with a trip to New York this weekend," says Jane. "We'd leave on Friday afternoon and return Monday morning to prevent her from missing much work."
Jane feels as though bile rather than blood is flowing through his veins. He's disgusted that he has to do this—that he has to ask permission to live his life, that Carter will be privy to private information regarding Jane's relationship with Lisbon.
"Ah, so you really did patch things up. Yes, of course, Patrick. Enjoy yourselves while you are there. I'll ensure your absence is not noticed at the CBI."
And they hang up without exchanging any further words.
Jane drops the burner phone in the passenger seat and then leans his forehead against the steering wheel, willing himself to stop shaking.
He finally composes himself enough to realize that he needs a safe location to keep the phone. It can't remain in his car, or even anywhere in his new apartment—what if Lisbon were to stumble across it?
For now, he decides the best solution is to hide it away in his attic. Though Lisbon often ventures up there when she is looking for him, she seldom is there for long enough to sleuth around. Plus, hiding the phone at the CBI will ensure he doesn't have to make trips to some location across the city at a random hiding spot—these trips would surely be noticed.
He hates the idea of hiding his secret in the CBI, which he knows Lisbon has come to think of as almost holy ground, but he sees no better solution.
Jane rubs his eyes, puts his seat belt on, and starts the ignition.
Jane picks up some linens and kitchen essentials on his way to his new apartment. He realizes he'd gone a little overboard in his shopping when it takes him four trips to bring his purchases to the apartment from the underground garage.
As if on cue, the mattress, box spring, and bedframe he'd bought yesterday are delivered five minutes after he puts the last turquoise Fiesta ware dish away. The delivery man helps him put the frame together, and half an hour later, Jane surveys his bedroom from the door, trying to comprehend the fact that—after nearly a decade—he has a home again.
Just as the sun begins to sink into the sky, the com system buzzes. Jane frowns, knowing he isn't expecting any more deliveries until tomorrow at the earliest.
He heads to the phone and picks up the receiver. "Yes?"
"It's me," comes Lisbon's voice. He is immediately aware that she sounds far more flirtatious—and far more nervous—than usual. "Are you free?"
"For you? Always," Jane answers, and he buzzes her in.
She's at his door in another minute. "Hey you," she says, and he glances over her, noting that she's holding her hands behind her back as though hiding something.
He gives her a soft smile. "Hello," he says, leaning in to kiss her.
She pulls back far too quickly for his liking and sidesteps around him, keeping her back turned away from him, and she walks backward down the hall. He shoots her a curious look. "What's up?" he asks.
She moves into the living room, and he follows her. The sunset is streaming through the windows, bringing out the hints of red in Lisbon's hair, but she is the one who lights up the room.
"I got you a housewarming present," she says. She immediately amends this. "Or two."
His response is automatic. "Lisbon, you didn't have to—"
She waves him off. "I know. But I think you'll really like it."
Lisbon steps toward him and brings her right hand out from behind her back. She's holding a picture frame, and Jane reaches for it curiously. He sucks in a breath when he realizes what picture lies behind the glass.
He's speechless.
It's an old photograph of Angela and Charlotte on the beach at their old Malibu home. Angela's smile is radiant, and the sound of Charlotte's laughter twists around him for the first time in nearly a decade.
He's not prepared for the intensity of the memories the photograph elicits.
Jane glances up at Lisbon, stunned. "Where did you get this?" he asks, his voice tight.
Lisbon looks worried, as though maybe her plan has backfired. "I went to visit Sam and Pete this afternoon," she says quietly. "Did I overstep? I'm sorry—I didn't mean—"
"No," says Jane immediately. "No; God no. This is…wow." He swallows. "This is the perfect gift. Thank you."
And he leans forward to kiss her again.
When he pulls away, she says, "You mentioned yesterday that you couldn't imagine a home without Angela and Charlotte. Well, now you don't have to."
Jane looks down at the picture. "I don't have any photographs of them here with me in Sacramento," he murmurs. "I could never forget what they looked like, of course, but…it's been a long time since I've seen their faces." A thought occurs to him. "You know," he says. "I don't have any photographs of you, either."
Lisbon blushes, and it registers to Jane that her left hand is still hidden behind her back. "Well," she says. "About that…"
And she pulls out another picture frame.
For the second time in as many minutes, Jane is floored.
It's a framed version of the photograph he'd discovered while snooping around her place the night he'd crashed on her couch: some old crime scene, and Jane is looking at Lisbon like she is the answer to every riddle he could ever hope to solve. Once again, he wonders how his feelings for her could have been so plainly written all over his face but simultaneously hidden in his heart.
"I…" Jane starts, but he finds himself, once again, unable to speak.
Lisbon seems to understand. "You're welcome," she whispers.
Jane sets the picture frames down on the island in the kitchen and moves back to Lisbon. This kiss is nothing like their previous ones: it's all earnestness and tenderness, and it's slow and sweet. Lisbon pulls back after a few minutes, looking up at him, and she rises up on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead.
"You are so loved, Jane," she says. "By so many."
He drops his forehead to her shoulder and breathes her in.