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Jane held up the bottle to catch the light. The last few ounces of dark liquid swirled invitingly. "Last chance."
"No, thank you." Lisbon answered.
"Best wine you've ever had," he prodded, his cheeks a little flushed. "Compliments of the F.B.I."
"It's lovely, but one of us needs to keep a clear head to drive back home."
Jane poured the last portion into his own glass. "Always responsible."
"Not always," she protested, her voice pitched high.
He smiled as he swirled the wine. "This is one of our nicer assignments," he observed, taking in the cozy-yet-elegant charm of the Italian restaurant.
Lisbon pushed her empty plate away, dropping the cloth napkin onto it. "My food was excellent."
Jane sipped the wine and settled back into the leather cushions of the U-shaped booth. He sighed appreciatively. "I missed the finer things like this. Good wine, good company… "
She hummed in response. "Is that why you came back? For the finer things?"
He pinned her with his stare, rolling the glass stem between his fingers. "Something like that."
Lisbon squirmed in her seat. "Jane? I need to ask you something."
His face lit with amusement. "You waiting until I'm drunk, Lisbon? Trying to get under my defenses?" He winked and leaned in. His voice dropped to a rough whisper, "A couple more glasses and all my secrets will belong to you."
She spread her fingers on the table, bracing herself. "I'm serious. And you don't get drunk."
"Oh, I don't? That's good to know." He took a long swallow.
"I mean... are you?"
"Is that your question?" He chuckled. "You are so cute when you're flustered."
Her expression hardened. "Stop that."
"Stop what?"
"I wanted to talk about the case."
"Then by all means, ask away."
She sighed. "Are you okay?"
Jane blinked, surprised at the concern in her voice. "Never better." He drained his glass and pushed it towards the middle of the table, all signs of joking gone.
"Abbott was out of line. You shouldn't have to be dragged through this nonsense about McAllister—"
"Lisbon. Really, I'm okay. It's been two years."
"You're not an agent. You shouldn't be undercover. Especially about this."
"Eh, it's invigorating in its own way. The undercover part, I mean."
"You have no training—"
"Since when did I have any job training? This is what I do. You think I can't handle it?"
"That's not what I meant. You've been… more reckless since you came back. Trying to run the whole show on your own. We're still a team, Jane."
A slow smile spread over his face. "Well, that's good to hear, Lisbon."
"I just want you to be careful. Take fewer risks. Tell us your plans." His only response was a soft, dreamy grin. She squirmed again. "What?"
He leaned in, propping himself up on his elbow, his hand buried in his curls. "I was just remembering one of your undercover ops. Way back... when you took down your psychiatrist." She flinched back in response, but his eyes grew distant as he recalled, "You completely sold it. I never thought you'd actually throw a chair through the window. And then, at your house—"
"I remember," she interrupted, trying to stop him.
His eyes dragged to her. "You became this other person. The jersey, the pills, the... the dancing. Carmen wasn't there yet. But I was."
"I was getting into character," she clipped. "You said you wouldn't look."
"It was quite a show. Spice Girls, right?" he sat back and moved his shoulders to an imaginary song. "Do you still dance, Lisbon? You have nice legs. Are you blushing?"
"That was a long time ago." She cleared her throat.
"You know... I hear our suspect, Acardo, spends a lot of time at a club. Maybe I'll get to do some dancing of my own." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"Sounds good. I'm sure Fischer will find that amusing."
"Fischer?" he said, hurt. "What happened to 'We're still a team?'"
"We are. All of us. I have a different role now."
"But we're still friends, aren't we? I mean, we used to be, before..."
"Yes, Jane. We're still friends."
"But it's different now."
"Things can't always stay the same."
"Lisbon?" Jane whined. "Can we do this more often?"
"Do what?"
"Go out together, like the old days. Maybe after I solve the case? I don't mean like a date. No goodnight kisses or anything. I mean, unless you want to. That might be nice. You're blushing again."
"Jane. I'm with Marcus. I might be moving away."
He sat back. "Of course. He's a good man. Dependable. Stable. No, uh... crazy schemes."
The silence stretched between them.
"Jane—"
"I'm a little home, Lisbon. Would you take me drunk?"
She smiled thinly. "Yeah. Yeah, let's get out of here."
X
The next night, Lisbon tried to enjoy a quiet evening with Pike. He wasn't making it easy. She didn't want to talk about D.C. and all her life choices. It was happening too fast. She kept playing Jane's initial reaction to her possible move over and over.
"Congratulations, I guess."
Everything they'd been through, and that was all he could be bothered to comment on their possible separation, after he'd uprooted her life in Washington to bring them back together?
And for what?
If she didn't go, could she bear to stay?
The glimpse into his thoughts while he was tipsy were dangerous. Would he ever talk to her? She had Marcus. He was a good man. But even with his weight solid at her back, watching a baseball game together, her thoughts kept straying.
Jane. He should be at the club by now, with Fischer. It was nice enough to have some downtime, but she missed being in the middle of it.
She missed knowing all the details of an operation.
She missed being with Jane as he executed his plans. He was fascinating to watch, and usually needed the backup.
But she didn't need to control the fallout anymore. That was a nice change. Wasn't it?
She went in to work early the next morning, anxious to hear about the interview. Jane's couch was empty. She straightened her desk as she waited.
The elevator dinged and Fischer went straight to the break room.
Lisbon decided it was a good time for coffee.
"So did he dance?" Lisbon deadpanned as she poured some creamer.
"Yeah," Fischer pulled up short. "With Acardo's girlfriend, no less. How did you—?"
"Acardo's girl? What's his plan?"
"He said something about taking something that belonged to him."
Lisbon sucked in a breath. "He wants Acardo to take a hit out on him."
"Well... yeah," she stated, like it was common knowledge.
"You know about it?"
"Sure. Abbott said—where are you going?"
"I need to run an errand." Lisbon gathered her jacket and purse and stalked to the elevator.
"What about your coffee?" Fischer called after her.
Lisbon offered a short wave as the doors closed between them.
x
"I'm coming. Hold your horses. Make some room." Jane pushed the door open on his Airstream to cut off the intense hammering. He winced at the beam of sunlight that broke through. "Hey, Lisbon. What's going on?"
He backed up as she pushed her way inside, her face screwed up in anger. "You're trying to get a hit put out on you."
"Oh that," he shifted into the kitchen and pulled out a mug. He hesitated. "Do you want some tea?"
"This is exactly what I'm talking about. You can't keep doing this."
"You don't want tea." He observed. He could feel the heat of Lisbon's glare on his back. Jane sighed. "Abbott approved it, and Fischer came along to the club. It's genius really, if you think about it. Almost better than a confession."
"Abbott approved Operation Jury-scam," she said with disdain. "Clearly he's been drinking the Jane Kool-Aid. Acardo doesn't mess around—he could kill you, and you're out here alone—"
"You're here." Jane closed the cabinet and poured his tea. "Acardo has a process, Lisbon. He doesn't get his own hands dirty. Pretty sure it involves Il Tavolo Bianco, and some covert backroom mumbo jumbo. He hasn't had time to do anything yet."
"You're guessing."
He tipped his cup in acknowledgement. "87% sure."
She crossed her arms. "Is this really all a game to you?"
"Hardly. But it's good to see you, partner." He smiled. "Missed you last night."
She wilted. "What do you want, Jane? How can I get you to take fewer risks?"
"Some positive reinforcement would go a long way."
"Sheep dip. You always do what you want. Which behavior am I meant to reinforce here?"
"I solve cases."
She clenched her fists, then looked away. "Yeah. You solve cases."
"I thought that was enough."
She smiled tightly. "Maybe not anymore." She stepped back.
"Lisbon, wait." He reached out to her, halting her retreat. A rare apologetic expression graced his features. "This one is already in motion. But I'm not acting alone. The restaurant is the key. We've got people on stakeout now, and we'll all take him down together. You can cuff him yourself."
She nodded, his hand heavy on her upper arm. "And what reward do you want when it's over?"
His sorrowful eyes searched her for a moment, then flicked down. He pulled back suddenly, as if burned. He turned back to his tea. "Don't worry about it."
"Jane?" she probed. His behavior worried her.
"Thanks for checking in, Lisbon. It will be a late night, you might want to squeeze in a lunch date with Pike this afternoon."
His dismissal hurt. She couldn't read him anymore. "You shouldn't be alone right now. Come back to the office with me?"
"You go on ahead. I'm going to finish my tea."
X
The take down went off without a hitch.
By the following night everything was wrapped up neatly on both connected cases.
Jane sat in on the restaurant owner's testimony, then found himself going back to Il Tavolo Bianco to reassure the man's wife. Now he had a bag full of freshly made cannolli and he knew exactly who he wanted to share them with.
He couldn't be in a better mood.
Then Pike opened Lisbon's door.
His carefully laid plan disintegrated. Of course Marcus would be here. He was moving soon, they were in a serious relationship. They would want to spend as much time together as they could. Unless... unless she had decided to go with him. Were they packing in there? Planning their lives together?
He was suddenly light headed. "Lisbon in?" He forced a smile. This was what she wanted, he could be polite.
"Yeah." Marcus stepped back and turned to call inside. "Teresa? It's, uh... It's Jane." They stood there together in awkward silence.
Lisbon finally appeared and Marcus went back inside. Jane's stomach clenched. She trusted Pike to just hang out in her home like that.
"W-what's up?" she asked.
He shouldn't have come so late. His plan was flawed. But it was a long drive from Dallas, he wanted to deliver the cannoli fresh. He'd been picturing her smile the whole way, the easy conversation they would have. He just wanted the time with her. But time was running out.
He held up the bag. "Cannoli—Il Tavolo Bianco. Mrs. Aurelio made them specially."
"That's sweet."
"Yeah," Jane agreed. "There's—there's enough for Marcus too." He handed the bag over and backed away. He was intruding. He shouldn't linger.
"Jane." Her tone stopped him. "You didn't come here this late to drop off cannoli." She stepped outside and closed the door behind her, committing to a conversation. He hesitated, and she jumped in. "You closed two cases and brought me a gift?"
"It was a team effort," he joked lightly. "I'm staying out of jail. I don't need anything else."
"No, it was a fair point. You're really good at this job. I should be more encouraging. I'm sorry."
"More advice from Marcus?"
She shook her head. "I'm not your boss anymore. I can't tell you what to do." She sniffed and added, "I never could."
"You always had more sway over me than you realized."
"It's a nice thought."
"You did. Still do."
Lisbon remained silent, searching his face for the truth behind his words—a dance they had done countless times over the years. He knew her features better than his own.
He lost himself, staring back at her. He never tired of noting every detail and puzzling them together. She managed to be both familiar and new every day, every minute. She grounded him. She challenged him, knew him, understood him. She—
She stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, then leaned in. He stilled. Thoughts stopped. His eyes closed. Her breath on his cheek, the smell of clean linen. The pressure of her lips on his stubble.
Her voice by his ear, warm like tea and honey. "Good job closing the case."
Coldness rushed in as she stepped back. It felt like a good bye. She was going to move away and leave him behind. He was going to lose the best parts of himself, and it wasn't his place to stop her. He was floundering. Words bubbled out. "I've been thinking a-about you leaving. And... I want you to know that I-I really want you to be happy. And that is the most important thing to me—that you do what makes you happy."
She pursed her lips and nodded solemnly.
"Okay?" he added. He needed her to say something, anything. Were those tears in her eyes?
"Yeah." It was barely a whisper.
He forced a smile and turned to go.
"Jane? I'm not happy."
She was crying. He realized he was too. He was too broken to fit the pieces together, to figure her out. She had everything. Why was she crying?
She wiped at her cheeks and crossed her arms. All he could do was look at her. She huffed at his silence. "I don't want to go to D.C."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
His thoughts were racing. The way she was looking at him… his brain made a critical connection. His heart rate sped up. "Oh."
"Were you going to say anything?"
"I wanted to, but then… I thought it was too late."
"You're only too late if you never say it."
He went to her, eyes roaming her face. Everything was new. She offered so much. He reached out, holding her loosely. "You don't want to move to D.C." He echoed.
"We've established that."
He was trembling. "I… don't want you to move to D.C."
"That's a good start."
"I… I can't imagine waking up knowing that I won't see you. The idea of letting anyone close to me is terrifying—for obvious reasons. But the truth is… Teresa… " The words locked in his throat, but she didn't waver. This amazing woman. He was long overdue. He would make it up to her, but first he had to say it. "I love you."
A single tear spilled down her cheek, but she was smiling now. "I feel the same way."
He felt giddy, grinning back at her. "Thats lucky." But it couldn't be so easy. "What about Pike?"
She wrinkled her nose. "He'll understand." Jane raised his eyebrows at that, and she whirled to look at her front window, half expecting to see him watching them. "Shoot. He's inside. I have to talk to him."
"I should go."
"I don't want you to." She stepped into his embrace. The bag of pastries crushed between them.
"You need some time. Call me later, we'll eat that cannoli."
"You really meant what you said?" she spoke into his neck.
His arms tightened around her. "Every word of it."
"Say it again?"
He pulled back, tipped her chin, and kissed her.