A/N: I want to thank all who have R/R'd this story. Even if you hated it or didn't like the decisions I made in this story, I appreciate your thoughts on it. Thank you. The story ends here, but I hope you will enjoy one of my other stories.

Chapter Thirteen: Confronting The Psychosis (Rated M)

Lisbon sat there in an uncomfortable chair, her foot tap-tap-tapping in nervous disposition. Her hands pulled at the blanket that was slung over her shoulders, tightening its grip around her torso. She was groggy and still, the medication they gave her to quiet her down and lessen the pain from her reopened wound on her neck rendering her almost incongruous to Cho's questioning gaze. She shivered involuntarily, the dirty nightshirt caked in her own blood still on her body.

She could feel the outward pity from Cho, his face serious (as it constantly seemed to be), but his eyes understanding in their intensity. He sighed, looked over at Minelli and turned back to her after a moment of silent communication with his boss. He pulled out that trusty black notepad of his and clicked the upper side of his pen.

"Can you tell me what happened here, tonight?" he asked her. "How you got here? How everything happened?"

She looked at him and shook her head obstinately. "Where's Jane?"

"He'll be along," Cho assured her, tapping the pen onto the notepad. "I need you to help me understand, Teresa."

"When can I see him?" She blinked, but she wasn't really seeing anything.

"He's in another interrogation room," he replied. "He's giving us his events of what occurred. I need you to do the same."

"I want to see him." She stubbornly stuck out her chin at him. "Let me see him."

Cho sighed and settled back in his chair. "We don't manage things that way here," he told her. "I can let you see him once you tell me what happened."

Her hands shook as she brought the glass of water he had gotten her before he sat down and lifted it to her withered lips. She took a deep gulp, letting it flow over and splash along the table. She sat the glass down and noticed Cho looking at her hands, his eyes rising to hers in silent question.

"It's not mine," she told him, putting her hands up for him to examine. "They wouldn't let me clean up."

"Procedure," Cho told her. "You can clean up after they have processed you. Take pictures," he added off her look. "Whose blood is it?"

She tensed briefly and he paused. "His," she finally stated.

"Red John's?" he exhorted.

"Yes," Lisbon validated.

"How did it get there?"

"That little notebook won't be enough," she told him.

Cho looked behind him at the two-way mirror. She knew somebody was behind it, watching. She also knew she had to start spilling the beans. Not just because she had to, but because she desired to get it off her chest and see Jane again. She put her dry, bloody hands down and sighed. She wanted to put a hand through her hair, but she found herself too tired and her hands too dirty; her hair was disheveled and caked in blood, but it was her blood. Not that of a man who undertook to kill her and Jane hours before. Her hands were defiled. Her mind, as well, was clouded with what happened to her. She only wanted Jane and his arms to console her. But she knew she couldn't unless she told them all of it.

She opened her mouth, and she did not stop until she had spilled the entire tale. Every single detail she could remember, which was an incredibly substantial amount, came toppling out of her. It reminded her of the night they interrogated her when she found her family slaughtered; the perception of what had happened and the weightiness of it all. But this time, she was the victim. And this time, thanks to Patrick Jane, she was a live victim.

FOUR HOURS EARLIER

She felt the twinge of the knife splay across her flesh like a knife through butter. The feel of him behind her and pulling her chestnut hair in his fist as he cut her open made her knees nearly buckle from under her; her body fought back against the urge. She could see and hear Jane fighting against the bonds, his voice thick as he shouted out at him to let her go. She could smell the stench of Red John's breath and feel it against her face as he stopped slicing.

She was bleeding, but the cut wasn't deep enough to make her bleed out. The stitches from his first attack at her life had been torn open; sliced through with the sharpness of his steel. She took notice that he had unshackled her ankle and was slowly advancing her toward Jane.

"If you don't shut up, I will slice her from ear-to-ear," he threatened, talking over Jane's outcries. "I was merely having fun. A warm-up." He laughed, waiting until Jane stopped his commotion. "Good boy, Patrick."

"What do you want, Daniel?" Jane asked, his eyes darting from Lisbon's scared face to Daniel Otero's amused one. "To gloat about how you trumped us all? How you were smarter than us?"

"Well, Teresa did say I love extreme bouts of grandeur," he articulated. "Perhaps that is true."

Daniel pulled Teresa's hair hard, making her cry out. Jane looked at him with glazed eyes, his hatred and rage-fueled expression making the sadistic serial killer chuckle.

"I want you to hear what your little boyfriend has been hiding, Teresa," Daniel stated. "The story he hasn't told you. I may be the actual one to show my rather artistic style to your adorable husband and son, but the one responsible is actually sitting right here in front of you." Daniel tilted her head roughly to look at him. "Storytime! Tell her about the night you could have captured or killed me."

"Fuck you," he told Daniel.

Daniel brought the knife back up to Lisbon's throat and set the steel blade against it. "Do it."

Jane shook his blond curls and looked at Lisbon, Jane's eyes telling her everything without words. When Jane didn't start talking, Daniel pushed the knife against her throat harder, causing Lisbon to gasp.

"I said do it!"

"You-you remember the night I told you about when Rigsby and Cho and I were scouting around at that dump site?" Jane asked her, his eyes boring into hers, pulling her attention to him and away from the weapon pressed to her jugular. "When I said I caught somebody in the house and chased after them, and I saw something as they took off?"

"This is the best part!" Daniel interrupted, his face beside Lisbon's, his chin resting on her shoulder. "Go on!"

Jane licked his dry lips and pulled gently at his restraint, his eyes falling to Daniel and his closeness to Teresa. His eyes flashed to the blade gleaming in the moonlight streaming in a slim beam through the room's window. He preoccupied his free hand and tousled his hair. His eyes climbed up once again to Lisbon's green, petrified orbs. He focused on them as he proceeded on.

"I saw the blade of a linoleum knife in his hand illuminated by the moon. The only thing I could make out in the dark," he acknowledged. "I caught Red John, here, breaking into a home. I don't know if he knew it was empty or not, but he was inside. I chased him outside, but he was gone."

"Oh, I didn't know it was empty. The young lady I was looking for must have had a late night craving for something," he told them, his voice filled with bitter disappointment. "No matter."

"I had a chance to kill him, Teresa. I only had to take my weapon and shoot him, but I didn't," Jane admitted. "He escaped unscathed. The fact Sacramento PD scared him off and took Cho and Rigsby from their posts was the reason he escaped. I never forgave them for that. Still don't." He turned his gaze back to Daniel. "They're all assholes."

"Ouch, that really hurts," Daniel feigned. "You hear that, Teresa? Do you know what this means for you?"

"No," Lisbon told him honestly. "I don't." Not that she could concentrate with the knife to her throat.

"It means, dear Teresa," he started, "that Patrick, here, could have stopped the killing that night. His wife? Your precious, beloved son and husband? They would still be alive, Teresa! Isn't that incredible, wonderful news? Oh. I mean, wouldn't that have been wonderful news?"

Lisbon looked at Jane and she shook her head. "There was nothing you could have done, Jane. It wasn't really your fault. Lucy and my family weren't on you," she told him.

"Yes, they are," Jane replied. "I could have prevented everything that came after, Teresa. It's why I didn't want to finish telling you. I wouldn't...couldn't have lied to you. You would have hated me, Teresa. Probably you do. And I don't think I could stand for that," he said, lowering his gaze and shaking his head. "Their deaths are on me. All the deaths are mine."

"How cute," Daniel told them. "Falling on the proverbial sword for each other! You love her. It's a sweet thing to witness. The things you'd do for her. Almost dying just to get to her. I heard you having sex together. I have to say, I didn't expect that, but it was a nice surprise and bonus for me. You were good by the sound of it."

"You're deranged."

"We established that, Patrick. Keep up! We are discussing you and Teresa. How you fell in love with her. How she reminds you of sweet Lucy. Innocent, but strong when she needs to be. You like tough women, Patrick. You got her into bed so easily! You must be magic where it counts."

"So what if I do love her? What does that matter to you?" Jane asked, licking his lips.

"It matters because you are going to watch her die just as Lucy did. You will watch her bleed out until she is lifeless. That is your punishment for what you've done. I wanted you to bear witness before you meet your own fate."

"What I've done?"

"You had to keep showing up when I was trying to do my work, Patrick. First that night, and then to rescue this one." He tapped her throat with the knife. "You keep showing up when I am trying to work my craft. I can't have that, Patrick. I just can't. Two of you in one swoop. Not my usual style, but it'll do."

"And Lisbon?"

"Ah," he turned and gave her cheek a soft kiss. She couldn't turn away because he had his hand so tightly wrapped in her hair. "This one knew I was Red John. Rather, deeply suspected. The great and masterful Red John." Daniel sighed dramatically. "Kari Rollins. There was a girl who couldn't keep to her own goddamn business! You see, I used to be a security guard for Visualize. Night rounds."

"She saw you doing something suspicious," Lisbon said, finishing his thought. "She called me the day after she saw you and told me that she wasn't sure what was going on. She asked if I could tell her anything with my third-eye, as she called it," she choked out. "She told me about how you would leave during the nights you were supposed to be making your rounds, and then come back hours later with your whereabouts unaccounted for."

"Not a crime," Daniel whispered. "However, it did get her suspicious enough to document my comings and goings. She complained to Cooper. He talked to me about the complaints. That is when I knew she was trouble."

"Then she started to notice patterns in your disappearances. She was the night receptionist there. She knew when you were supposed to make your rounds. The times you went missing and returned fell within the times the young women were murdered. She got suspicious when you once came back and you smelled of earth and Pine. The last victim had made wood trinkets and jewelry from Pine trees."

"Very smart of her," Daniel commented bitterly. "Her cleverness got her killed. Your wife's inability to know when her investigations were far too close for comfort got her killed. Teresa, here, killed your wife. Murdered her. I was just the physical body."

"You knew she was my wife," he told Daniel. "You did it as a punishment to me."

"Partly, yes," he admitted. "But mostly because she was going to fucking print what this bitch said!" He took the knife off her throat and took her chin hard in his hand. "She was going to bring attention to all I worked for! She was going to do an expose with the facts that Kari and your new girlfriend, here, were going to tell her. Bring unwanted attention."

Daniel got a hold of himself and smiled, letting her chin go and holding her shoulder with his hand. Jane looked at Lisbon and blinked twice. He hoped that she understood he was telling her to keep him talking. Keep the rapport open. As long as he was talking, he wouldn't be using that knife of his and it would give Jane time to formulate some kind of plan.

"Why did you wait to try to kill Kari and me?" Lisbon asked, catching on to Jane's blinks. "What made you come after us after all these years?"

Daniel simply shrugged his shoulders. "After I got the job at Sacramento PD, life was good. I could monitor what they had on me, and where the investigation was going. I could distract and deflect. I never thought I would get caught. I was too good for that. But then that bitch started calling the department and saying she had tips on an old case. She said she wanted her conscious...no, needed it to be clear. That stupid asshole Royce was too dense to give them directly to the Sarge, thank stupidity. He told me all about them. Needless to say, she had to go. You were going to be the only one who knew, then. You were uncommunicative after your family was unfortunately killed, but what did you have to live for after you found out Kari was ticked off my list? You'd know I was coming. You'd spill your guts. That is why you were supposed to be first to be ticked off."

"You killed Royce because he was one of your loose ends," Jane interrupted, putting together the pieces. "He was just an excuse to watch the gates. When you had to put this sick, twisted plan in motion, you had to dump him," Jane finished. "After his use was over."

"He was my ticket inside," Daniel explained. "When he closed the back patio door when this one," he squeezed Lisbon close, "escaped, he told me all about the alarm that was attached. I told you. He was stupid. Anyway, getting in was simple after that."

"The oldest trick in the book," Lisbon muttered. "A high-powered magnet scrambles the alarm signals. It rendered the alarm useless. That's why it didn't go off when you dropped off the box or snatched me."

"Ding, ding, ding!" He laughed. "You didn't have to be psychic to know that, huh? How'd you know? It's not that old." He held up his hand holding the knife for her to be quiet. "Never mind. I don't care. The files were easy to steal. Transferring your sealed files to CBI was a hindrance, no doubt, but I found the retrieval of them redemptive. It set everything up nicely."

"The cabin is gone, Teresa," Jane told her, addressing her for the first time since revealing he had a shot at capturing Daniel Otero. "The cabin at Joshua Lake. It's gone. He strapped a bomb to Royce's body and blew it up."

"Not before I had him call in that he found my dead body," he smiled. "Buy me some time."

"Won't that bring attention to the fact you are missing?" Jane asked. "Get the suspicions moving?"

"Everything points to Royce," he said, smiling brightly. "His prints are on the back patio door from when he closed it, his prints are all over that cabin, and best of all? Nobody. The explosion offered a nice solution. I'll walk in the Sac PD and tell them he dumped me on the side of the road and went crazy. It's perfect, no? They would think him to be Red John." He looked at Jane and then Lisbon. "You will be dead. Victims of his crazy killing spree. It's been a few years since I last killed anyone. Kari was the first. I can lie low for a while. Maybe give it up now that the game isn't fun anymore. Who knows? I only kill when I need to, you must understand. It was a primal need, but I've gotten better at controlling it."

As he was speaking, Jane was watching the fact that the knife he held was away from Lisbon's throat. With his hand hovering near her shoulder, there was a good chance she could use her weight and force him back into the wall behind them, giving her enough time to try to escape. His eyes fell to the chain loop on the floor that Daniel had installed to keep Lisbon shackled. If she pushed back on him, he'd trip over it. It wasn't much of a plan, but he didn't have anything else. He was handcuffed and could provide no real help. At least if she pushed him hard enough into the wall, it would provide some time for her to take off. Anything to give her a chance.

His eyes found hers and he tilted his head slightly in a motion that told her "back". She caught onto his motion but looked terrified at the idea. He didn't blame her.

"You are a very disturbed man," Jane told him, trying to distract him. "You won't get away with this. It's too grandeur, even for you."

"Nothing is ev-"

He was cut off by Lisbon pressing all her weight abruptly against him, knocking both of them into the wall behind them, falling over the loop and chain that was her restraint.

Daniel let go of her hair as he fell back and hit the wall with a thud, gasping out in surprise as the knife fell from his grasp and slid across the floor, coming to rest near Jane's feet. Lisbon cried out as she pulled herself to her hands and knees and began trying to get up. Daniel recovered himself and leaped forward, grabbing her nightshirt, ripping the material as he pulled her back toward him. Lisbon kicked her feet out at him, catching him in the face and causing him to roar in pain. His grip tightened as he pulled her hard toward him.

"Let her go!" Jane called out from his seat. "Take me! Have me!"

Daniel didn't listen. He pulled his heavy body over Lisbon's, pinning her small body to the floor, reaching down to take hold of her hair once more. He pulled it in a tight fist and leaned her head back.

"You shouldn't have done that!" he roared. "Now it won't be slow. It will be long, dirty and painful."

They were situated in front of Jane, lying on the floor as Daniel leaned up to grab the knife that had skidded near Jane's foot. Jane looked at a terrified Lisbon. He had gotten her killed, no doubt. This was it. First his wife, and now Lisbon. As Lisbon looked up with scared eyes, he suddenly found the resolve to fight back. This would not be Lucy all over again. This was not how it would end. He would not watch someone he loved die. He would leave those memories to the wayside. His hand was manacled, but his feet were not.

With a mighty rise of his boot, Jane took his foot and jammed it forward, striking Daniel in the face with his heel. He could hear the crunch of his nose breaking and the howl in pain as he jumped back automatically, falling off Lisbon, holding his nose. Lisbon took the opportunity to grab the knife at her fingertips.

"NO!" Daniel roared thickly, blood falling messily from his broken nose.

He dove at Lisbon once again, but this time, Lisbon turned her body and struck her newly acquired weapon upward. She cried out as she let go of the knife handle as his blood dripped on her hands and crawled backward out from underneath him. Daniel was on his knees, looking from her to his own weapon jammed into his chest cavity. His eyes were wide in surprise. Finally, he gurgled and dropped, his body plunging down onto the hard floor at her feet, silent.

She cried as she turned herself and lifted her shaking body toward Jane, reaching her shaking hands out to touch his knees. She looked at Jane and launched herself into his arms. She could feel his free hand wrap around her, pulling her close to him.

"Shh," he soothed her. "It's over."

"Patrick," she sobbed into his chest.

"It's alright, sweetheart," he assured her. "Do you think you could see if he has the key to this," he rattled the handcuff, "in his pocket?"

She pushed herself back from him and bit her lip. She nodded but didn't seem too sure she wanted to do that. She'd seen horror movies before where they would take one last grab at an ankle or arm. She turned herself and scooted over to stick her hands in his pants pockets. She located the cuff key and turned around, handing it back to Jane.

She rose to her shaking feet and hurried away from the body, watching as Jane uncuffed himself. She was swaying on her feet, tired and traumatized. Jane rose and put her face in his hands.

"Don't ever disappear like that from me again, sweetheart," he whispered, kissing her forehead.

She said nothing when he placed his arms under her knees and around shoulders, picking her tired, battered body up and into his arms. He stepped over the body of Daniel Otero and didn't look back as he carried her from the house and sat her on the porch steps. He reached down and tore a piece of her nightshirt off and pressed it to her neck wound.

"We could really use a shower," he told her softly. "And maybe some nice tea."

She chuckled softly, her body shaking in his arms as he wrapped them around her. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of help coming to their aid. Probably a neighbor heard the commotion when Daniel screamed and called 9-1-1. All the better. She could stay in his arms until they came to get them.

"It's destroyed," Van Pelt told Minelli over the phone, the fire still raging behind her. "There is a body, but it's in pieces. They don't think it's Jane, sir."

"Did they find any sign that Jane was there at all?" he asked. "Anything?"

Van Pelt looked down at the battered cell phone in her hand. "His phone. It was in the rubble."

"So he was there and left?" Minelli asked. "Where did he go?"

"I don't know, sir." Just then, Rigsby and Cho, who had joined them ten minutes before, walked over to where she was.

"Someone called in just a minute ago to dispatch and said they heard screaming coming from Teresa Lisbon's house. The caller said about forty-five minutes before, an old car pulled up out front and a blond man ran inside. She went to sleep after that but woke up to someone screaming inside," Cho told her. "It's Jane. He went back to Lisbon's house."

Minelli could hear Cho over the phone. He sighed. "Head over there. Let Sac PD take care of this scene. It's their jurisdiction. When they identify the body, we will decide then if we should take it over."

"Yes, boss," Van Pelt told him.

She hung up the phone and turned to her two colleagues. "Let's go."

"You think we are too late?" Rigsby asked, scrunching his face. "I mean… the scream?"

"I hope not," Van Pelt told him. "I really do."

Forty minutes later, Van Pelt, Cho, and Rigsby rolled up to the chaotic scene. Local police, fire, and paramedics were all around, their lights flashing and their radios blaring. The three of them were fully prepared to find the bodies of Teresa Lisbon and Patrick Jane. They were relieved to find that they were alive. Battered, but alive. They were each sitting in a different ambulance, Jane watching Lisbon being attended to very carefully, and Lisbon wrapped in a blanket, her neck bandaged and bleeding and her face and hair dirty with blood and sweat.

"Oh, thank God!" Van Pelt told Jane, wrapping him in a hug. "We thought… Well, that doesn't matter. You're okay!"

"You'll find him inside," Jane just said. "Dead."

Cho and Rigsby just looked at each other and headed inside, showing their CBI badges to the cop guarding the door. Jane watched as Van Pelt disengaged herself from him and walked over to Lisbon, talking with her briefly before she guided her to the SUV. She was taking her to the station for her statement. The paramedics had done their job, dressing the cut on her neck and giving her medication to ease the pain and calm her down. He watched as Van Pelt pulled away, taking his sweetheart with her.

He sighed. It was all over. Lucy and every other victim had been avenged. Not by cops or jail. By a woman whose life had been violently rocked by him. She did what he could not do; killed the savage, sadistic serial killer when she had the chance. He had to wonder if she was just telling him it wasn't his fault that he allowed Daniel Otero to keep on killing out of trying to keep the rapport up, or if she actually did mean it. After the shock and trauma wore off, would she still feel the same? Would his arms be comfort again? He hoped to hell they were, but he couldn't be sure. Nothing about Teresa Lisbon was a sure thing. She was fascinating and exciting. She was like Lucy in a lot of ways, but very different, too.

At first, his intentions were purely Red John related when he first met her. As the time went on, his feelings changed. He found her to be mysterious and damaged just like he was. He found her to be strong and not take his crap. His attraction to her was immediate once he stopped looking at her like a potential case-cracker and witness. He still had yet to apologize for what he had said to her after they had made love together. He would, given the chance. He'd tell her all the things he did and said to her that were wrong. Apologize for being an asshole to her when he had no right to be. His own guilt made him a hypocrite. Saying she had murdered Lucy when he had just as well as murdered her family for what he did.

Finally, after about ten minutes, Cho came to collect him for his statement. He went without protest. He did not speak to Cho on the way back, he just reflected on the situation and the death of one of the most notorious and evil killers in California's history. He didn't even hesitate when Rigby came in to ask him what happened. He readily told the tale and got it out. He knew how it went. He'd been on the flip side many, many times.

"When can I see her?" he asked Rigsby at the end of the interview. "Teresa, I mean? When can I see her?"

"As soon as she tells us what happened. She isn't as ready to say as you are. She's scared and probably has some post-traumatic stress. Give her some time, okay?" Rigsby told him.

"Yeah," he agreed, nodding his head. "Okay. As soon as she's out, can you let me know?"

"Sure."

"Thanks."

After telling her events of the past few hours, Lisbon sat back in her chair and looked at Cho expectantly. She wanted to see Jane, and she wanted to see him now. Cho lifted the notepad (which didn't hold nearly all of her statement) and stood. He grabbed the glass of water and headed for the door.

"I'll let Jane come see you," he told her. "Then he can take you home and get you cleaned up, okay?"

"I don't have anywhere to go," she told him.

"Somehow, I think you do," Cho said. He turned around and exited the interrogation room.

After several minutes of waiting, the door opened and in stepped Jane. He didn't clean up, either. His hair, she saw, was still grimy and tangled, his skin was clammy, and he had her blood encrusted on his hands. She stood ungracefully to her feet and allowed him to close the gap between their bodies and encircle her into his arms pressing her to his chest.

"I'm so glad you're okay," he whispered, smoothing her hair with his hand. "You scared the shit out of me, sweetheart."

She pulled back and looked at him, her eyes tired but mindful. "You, too, Jane. You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"Worth it," he replied without hesitation. "Completely and utterly worth it."

She felt his hand fall to her waist and his hand slide in her hair. The blanket fell from her shoulders and to her feet as her hands traced his spine through his clothing. Her breathing increased, and her eyes searched his. She found the same thing reflecting back in hers: the need for comfort and a fiery desire floating through their pupils.

"I think I should take you home, Teresa," Jane told her softly. "We could both use some time alone together."

"I don't have anywhere to go," she said, looking up at him.

"Yes, you do," he assured her. "I'm taking you to my house."

She smiled a small, tired smile and nodded somewhat. "Okay, Patrick. Take me home."

"You got it, sweetheart," he replied, letting her go and bending to pick up the blanket, draping it back over her shoulders. "Let's go glorify being alive, shall we?"

The ride to his house was silent for the most part, apart from the occasional stolen glances and yawns. He had helped her into his car and up the two stairs that led to his front door when they had arrived some minutes later. When they finally got inside, Jane showed her to the bathroom, set out one of his suit shirts for her to wear, and kissed her forehead.

"I'll make us some tea," he offered, turning from her and shutting the bathroom door behind him.

Peeling off her clothing, she stepped into the hot water, cleansing the dirty and tainted off of her skin, leaning forward in the water and letting it cascade over her head, down her neck, and around her wound. The water felt good to her as she thought about what happened tonight and how everything that had happened been entwined with Patrick Jane. Fate? A humbling coincidence? She didn't know.

She cleaned her hair and her skin, washing off Daniel's blood from her hands, watching it swirl down the drain and sighed as her hands became untainted. She turned off the tap and stepped out, drying herself off. She couldn't put her underwear back on, instead throwing them into the trash along with her torn nightshirt. She never wanted to see those clothes ever again. She took his striped shirt and put it on. It was big enough that it came to just above her knee.

She could smell the tea as she walked out from the bathroom and headed for the kitchen in which she had sat that first night. He was facing away from her, pouring hot water from a kettle into two mugs.

"Smells good," she told him, coming around the counter to stand beside him. "Thanks for the shirt."

He turned to her and gave her one of the mugs of tea. His eyes scoped her out, flickering over his shirt on her small, slim body. He brought his mug to his lips and sipped the hot liquid carefully.

"You look good in my shirt," he commented. "You clean up well, sweetheart."

"The shower is all yours," she told him.

"Meh," he told her. "I washed my hands and just my hair is really messy. I'll live," he told her. "Literally."

She took a sip of her own tea and then sat the cup down on the granite counter. She leaned on a hip, crossing her arms across her chest. He sat his cup down, too, and stared at her. There were things being said between them and their eye gaze. He knew what he was seeing in her eyes, and he, too, knew that same feeling was growing in the pit of his stomach. He also knew there was something he had to do before they did anything that their unwavering gaze was suggesting.

"I need to tell you something, Teresa," he said, his voice nearly a whisper. "What I said to you earlier, after we… After we made love? That it was a mistake? You have to understand that I was upset. I didn't mean it."

"I know," she whispered.

"The truth is that I really enjoyed our night together. I know it is too late, but I wanted you to know this, Teresa. I was wrong. So, so wrong. And I know this doesn't make up for the way I treated you, but I am falling in love with you. I do love you. That's the truth. I am sorry for what I said about Lucy, too. I was looking for someone else to blame and you happened to be closest," he explained.

"Jane, please don't," she said, shaking her damp head. "You don't need to explain. I have been in your shoes when it comes to blaming the wrong people. There is a lot of sickness in this world. We aren't to blame when some of it comes our way."

"Say you forgive me, sweetheart. Please. I need to hear it."

Lisbon uncrossed her arms and reached out of the lapels of his shirt, bringing him closer to her. "I forgive you, Patrick Jane."

His hands automatically came to rest on her hips, his face falling closer to hers. "Thank you, sweetheart."

Before she could say anything, he lifted her up gently and swung her around to sit her on the island, his body wedged between her dangling legs at the edge of the counter. His hands found the hem of her shirt and pushed up, letting him feel the bare skin of her slim hips under his fingertips. His breathing was ragged as he brought his lips to hers, crushing them with intensity as she matched his pace. Her hands traced his spine, falling to the small of his back and pushing him harder between her legs.

She giggled when he felt around under her shirt and heard his low growl when he realized she wasn't wearing any panties. He lifted her shirt, forcing her to lift her arms so he could shrug it off of her. He threw it to the kitchen floor without looking and leaned his head to her neck, kissing her gently down her throat column and kissing the dressing on her wound before spreading his warm kisses to her freckled shoulder.

"I love your skin," he told her. "Soft and warm."

"Mmm," she muttered, her concentration falling to pieces as he dipped his head down to kiss her between her breasts. "Typical male."

His hands came up to squeeze her breasts gently in his palms, eliciting a wail from her that was deep and throaty. He flicked her erect bud with his thumb.

"You don't mind making love in the kitchen do you?" he asked her. "I could take you to my bedroom. Show you how firm the bed is…"

She laughed but shook her head as he lifted her breast and placed his mouth over her, sucking her gently. Her hands flew from his back to his hair, locking him against her like a vice.

"Mmm," she moaned. "We've already started, Patrick," she told him. "Why stop now?"

"Good point," he said, flicking her with his tongue and feeling her arch her body into him. "We'll save that for later."

"Confident, are we?" she teased, feeling him move to her other breast and kiss the underside gently.

"After the day we had? Yes, sweetheart," he said, laughing. He lifted his head and mouth back to hers, kissing her softly on the corners as his hands slid down her ribs and across her belly. "I have to make up for my rude lie. I want to show you how much I enjoy you in bed, Teresa."

"In the kitchen," she corrected.

"Mmm, very well," he answered, sliding his hand down until he felt her damp curls under the tips of his fingers. "The kitchen."

He curled his fingers as they neared her cleft, smiling against her lips as she ground herself into his hand.

"Oh!" she exclaimed as she felt him stick one finger into her moist heat, curling it ever so slightly inside of her.

He teased the outer lips of her with his other fingers before he slid in another digit, making her cry out in a whimper as his lips slid from her lips to her jawline and down to her neck where he held himself. His fingers pumped softly, feeling her warm and ready for him. He extracted his fingers from her core.

"Shh," he told her. "Let me take care of you." He kissed her against her neck and slid himself to his knees between her legs.

She pulled at the top of his golden locks as he spread her legs further apart and kissed the inside of her thighs with small, delicate kisses. His fingers splayed across her knees as he looked up at her as his mouth found her heat and he sucked gently, making her moan softly as his tongue slid in and teased her.

He could feel his length harden as her breathing and moans became erratic, her body jumping beneath him. He kissed her sensitive nub and lifted himself, kissing her belly, ribs, and throat as he made his way back up to her mouth, kissing her and letting her taste herself on his lips.

"Come here," she said, reaching down to his belt. "Let me take care of you, now."

She managed to pull his belt from its loops and discard it onto the kitchen floor. Her fingers took to task his pants, her feet pushing at the hem of his pants and boxers, pushing them to his knees as her hands roamed over his naked hips. She lifted herself up further and reached down to take his hard cock in her hand, pumping him in her palm in even strokes.

"Oh, sweetheart," he muttered, feeling her warm hand around his equally hot shaft, pulling and teasing it, her fingers tapping the sensitive head, making him shudder against her neck as her fingers rolled down his rock-hard cock.

His eyes closed for a brief moment, before opening and stilling her hand. "I need...please, Teresa."

She nodded against his cheek and felt his hand snake around her back, tracing her spine and pushing her toward him roughly. With his other hand, he reached down and swiped his cock horizontally up her moist cleft, teasing her.

"Patrick," she moaned in his ear.

This excited him even more. Without any more delay, he pushed himself deep and hard into her, making her call out in surprise as he slid back out of her again before slamming himself into her again, her body sliding against the granite countertop.

"Teresa," he moaned against her neck, his hand falling to her bare ass and pushing her into him for more leverage and depth. "Fuck."

He felt her legs wrap around his waist as he rode her deep and hard. Her fingers dug into his vested back and bare ass and her teeth nibbled at his shoulder. He kept himself going at a torrid pace, kissing her earlobe and nibbling the skin behind it. The harder he slid into her, the louder she moaned. He could feel her orgasm coming, as she started to contract around his hardness. Feeling him inside her, deep and hard, she was ready to let go. He leaned his head up so that his eyes locked onto hers as she came. The warmth spread through her and around him.

"Sweet-" he started to say. He couldn't hold on. With one more push into her, he released, feeling himself shoot into her warm and fast, moaning deeply as his head fell against her shoulder and his quivering body gave her two small pumps. "...heart," he finished, kissing her neck and then lifting his face to kiss her lips. "I love you."

She kissed him twice on his lips and smiled drunkenly. "I love you, too, Patrick."

He stayed inside her until his body stopped quivering. For Lisbon, having a half-dressed man inside her who knew how to please her excited her. She bent to kiss his lips again as his hands roamed over her breasts and through her hair. Finally, after a minute or two, he pulled himself out of her and helped her down off the counter.

"I hope that makes up for that counter tease at the cabin," he said. "That was very naughty of me, sweetheart."

"You made up for it, Patrick," she replied, smiling. "Ten-fold."

"Well, there is an issue of where you are going to live…" he trailed off, lifting his boxers and pants back up and redoing them as his eyes locked on hers. "You can live here. With me."

"Here? With you?" she reiterated, letting him help her down and put her shirt back on her. "Really?"

"Really," he said. "I want you where I can see you, sweetheart." He reached out and pulled her by her waist against him. "And touch you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. We've been through the depths of hell, Teresa. I think I am sure."

"Mmm."

"Move in here. I know it's sudden," he said, shrugging, "but I think we have done a lot of things suddenly that we don't regret." He lifted his eyebrows. "What do you say?"

She thought for a minute and then smiled brightly up at him, encircling her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

"Yes," she said, kissing him. "I will, sweetheart."

He growled at her softly and smiled, kissing her.

"That's my line." And he picked her up, slung her over his shoulder, slapping her butt as she giggled like a child the entire way down the hall to his room.

THE END