Chapter Text
It's almost dark outside by the time they pull out of the CBI parking lot. They're mostly silent in the car, both feeling a sense of déjà vu from the last time Lisbon agreed to hypnosis. She rests her head against the passenger seat window, face illumined occasionally by the streetlights, lost in her thoughts. From time to time, Jane glances at her, noting the guilt etched all over her face.
"Hey Lisbon, you're cramping my style," he says, voice light. Seeing her mildly confused look, he elaborates: "Guilt over the people you care about is kinda my thing."
Her mouth quirks, almost against its will, before returning to its sombre expression. "Three inches to the left and she could've died, Jane." The words come out like a shaky whisper, and she doesn't bother to hide it anymore. "And for what? Because I was too slow, too tired to have her back the way I should have. Too afraid to take a stupid sleeping pill and too arrogant to ask for help." she continues, self-loathing creeping into her voice.
"Berating yourself and dwelling on hypotheticals isn't going to undo what happened," Jane replies. His voice is calm, rational, the voice of someone who has had to tell himself this many times.
"You're not gonna tell me it's not my fault and it could happen to anyone?" she asks sarcastically. She had already listened to Minelli's assurances, finding that it only seemed to make the guilt worse.
"You know yourself well enough to determine whether it was your fault or not. I won't lie to you." At the turn of Lisbon's head, he says "Okay, yeah I heard myself. I won't lie to you in this specific circumstance. Any other time though…" he trails off, grinning.
Lisbon's mouth curls into a small smile, and this time it stays a little longer.
---
When they reach, Lisbon unlocks the door to her apartment and turns on the lights. At night, her apartment looks cosier, the pale yellow walls adding a warmth to the space. They stand in the living room, and Lisbon suddenly feels self-conscious. How did she end up in the same situation again?
"So," she clears her throat, "how should we do this?"
Jane inclines his head toward her bedroom. "Why don't you go change while I make us both a cup of tea," he suggests.
"Change?" she repeats, feeling even more awkward.
"Well I doubt you'd sleep very well in your blazer and work pants but whatever floats your boat," comes Jane's usual sarcastic reply.
Lisbon rolls her eyes but concedes the point, going into her bedroom. Jane fills the kettle and looks around in her kitchen for tea. Seeing the small box of chamomile in the cupboard, he smirks. At least she listens sometimes, he thinks. He grabs two teabags and roots around in her drawers for cups.
As the tea steeps, Jane shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over the couch. Lisbon comes out, wearing a navy blue t-shirt and black pajama pants. She feels strangely exposed despite choosing her most modest sleepwear.
Jane hands her a cup of tea and she accepts it with thanks. They sit on the couch and sip the tea in comfortable silence until Jane asks, "So what was it that caused your sleepless nights? I can't think of any recent cases that were anymore disturbing than usual."
"Nothing in particular. I have them occasionally, hazard of the job, you know? But never for this long, and I usually just take something for it."
Jane hums in acknowledgement. "I would suggest you see a therapist but it didn't work out so well the last time."
She laughs softly. "No kidding." It occurs to her then that Jane's car is still at CBI. "Oh, by the way, how are you planning on getting home?"
"I was hoping I could stay at yours. I need to be here in the morning to wake you."
Lisbon frowns. "Wake me? Why can't I set an alarm as usual?" She represses the pang of nervousness she feels at the thought of Jane spending the night in her house.
"You might wake up from your sleep but you'll still be under hypnosis," Jane answers. "I mean, I could take a taxi back to CBI and drive here in the morning…"
"No, you're right," she agrees. It was an unnecessarily long journey and he was already kind enough to drive her here. "You can take the couch."
"Oh good, I was hoping you'd say that because I already brought my toothbrush." He pulls one out of his jacket pocket to show her with a grin.
She rolls her eyes but can't help the smile on her face. Seeing her sufficiently relaxed, Jane takes her empty cup and puts it on the table. He takes out a coin from his pocket and holds it out in front of her.
Here we go, she thinks, suppressing a flutter of anxiety.
"Lisbon I want you to look at the coin. Look at the way the light reflects off it, over and back. Over and back," he says, voice low and soothing, coin turning rhythmically between his fingers. From time to time, he glances at her to make sure her eyes are following his movements. "Keep watching the light, Lisbon."
Eventually, Lisbon's eyelids began to feel heavy. The tension leaves her body and her eyes glaze over. Jane says, "You're in a trance state. You're relaxed and you're safe. We're going to your bedroom, and you're going to lie down and when I touch your arm, you're going to fall asleep, only waking up when I touch your arm again."
He stands up and heads to her bedroom, Lisbon following along. She gets into her bed and Jane is struck by how peaceful she looks in this rare moment when her defenses are down. A pang of affection hits him, the simple domestic scene bringing back memories at once sweet and painful. But he can't dwell on them now, he has a job to do.
"Lisbon, listen to me carefully. The next time you feel like you need a pill to sleep, you can take one. It's just a pill. It won't hurt you." Jane chooses his words carefully, not wanting to bring up distressing memories but also wanting her to be free of the fear she was living in. He pulls the covers over her and gently touches her arm. "Sleep."
And then, without thinking too much about it, he presses a light kiss into her hair, turns off the lights, and quietly leaves the room.
---
Jane lies on Lisbon's couch, drifting between sleep and wakefulness. It's late at night, a few hours since they had both gone to bed, but Jane's thoughts kept him awake for the most part as usual.
A low sound comes from Lisbon's bedroom. Jane frowns and listens closely, she shouldn't be awake at all in her hypnotic state. More sounds come from the bedroom, seemingly distressed. He gets up to check on her.
The sounds become clearer as Jane opens the bedroom door. Lisbon shifts restlessly in her bed, murmuring. Her eyes are open but unfocused, she doesn't register Jane entering. A nightmare, he realises. Jane picks out phrases like 'No… I didn't', 'It was him…' and his own name, said with urgency.
He walks to the side of her bed, intending to calm her. "Hey, you're okay," he says softly. "Go back to sleep." He moves to leave but she grabs his wrist.
"Jane," she cries out, fear in her voice.
"You're having a nightmare, Lisbon. It's okay," he soothes, gently stroking the inside of her wrist.
But Lisbon doesn't let go of his wrist, instead holding on even tighter. Stubborn even in her sleep, Jane thinks wryly.
"Okay fine," he relents, carefully extracting his wrist from her grip and crossing to the other side of the bed to climb in. He leaves as much space as he can in the middle, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable, but he's completely unprepared for the way she rolls over and presses her body against his chest, head buried in the crook of his neck. In this position, he has nowhere else to put his right arm so he places it carefully over her waist. A small content sound escapes Lisbon's lips, and it's the last sound either of them make before drifting off into a sound sleep.
---
The morning sunshine streams in through Lisbon's sheer curtains, brightening the room. Jane shifts, waking from the longest sleep he has had in a while. He glances down at Lisbon, who has rolled over so that she is facing away from him, though his arm is still slung around her waist. For the second time, Jane is hit with the inherent intimacy of it all. Fully-awake Lisbon would never let herself get so close to him and Jane isn't sure if he could bring himself to ask for this either. He drinks in the peace of the moment, the way the sunlight illuminates the earthy browns of Lisbon's hair, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes.
Gradually, Lisbon begins to stir. Jane notices that she will wake up soon, so he decides to wake her from the trance as well. Touching her forearm, he murmurs "Good morning Lisbon."
Lisbon opens her eyes, blinking slowly. Her mind is foggy, was that a man's voice she just heard? She turns to be greeted with Jane's grinning face. Lisbon sits bolt upright so fast she almost hits her head on the headboard. "Jane?! What—what are you doing here? In my bed??" she splutters. A look of horror passes over her face. "Oh God, did we—"
"—No Lisbon, we didn't. Though you don't have to look so appalled at the thought," he mutters, faking offence. "You were having a nightmare, I heard you calling out from the living room. I came in here to check on you and—well, you wouldn't let me leave." He smiles, a small but genuine smile.
Lisbon turns red. "Oh God Jane, I'm so sorry—"
"Don't apologise." His answer is quick and firm, silencing any excuse Lisbon was about to give.
She still looks embarrassed and she's not sure for what exactly: having a nightmare, calling out for Jane, or the way she was snuggled up against him not even half an hour ago. Probably all three. But it hits her now—once the initial fog of waking up has cleared—how rested she finally feels. The exhaustion is almost gone from her body, her eyes don't burn from lack of sleep, and her mind feels sharp again.
"You feel better don't you?" asks Jane.
She nods. "But don't let this go to your head."
Jane grins. "Too late. Breakfast?"
"Sounds great."
Half an hour later, they sit in Lisbon's kitchen, eating the eggs and toast she hastily put together. They talk about nothing in particular: cases, workplace drama, random trivia that Jane learns from God knows where. When they finish eating, Jane gets up and takes their plates to the sink. Lisbon watches him, his movements graceful, a remnant of his former life. It strikes her how rare it is to see Jane without his hair combed back or his pristine suit jacket and vest. Seeing his shirt wrinkled and blond curls adorably tousled, Lisbon's heart swells a little. "Jane?" He turns back to her and she meets his gaze. "Thanks," she says softly.
He knows she's not just talking about the dishes. He smiles. "Anytime, Lisbon."