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It all started simply enough.
A Friday night. One team. One birthday. One bar. And perhaps enough alcohol to loosen the inhibitions of a few people.
“So this is the surprise?” Cho looked at the envelope with an expression that somehow managed to be both disapproving and amused.
“Well, it’s not like Wylie would expect a surprise party,” Lisbon explained, a touch of almost maternal warmth in her voice. “So we decided to do something he’ll definitely enjoy.”
It was obvious, though rarely acknowledged aloud: Teresa Lisbon’s pregnancy hadn’t made her any less intimidating. It had, however, made her noticeably softer. At least this version of her—twenty weeks along.
“Just go with it, Cho,” Jane said with a quiet chuckle. “There’s no getting out of this.”
“All right… I guess.” Cho nodded toward the hallway. “See you there.”
He headed back to his office, wondering whether there truly was no escape.
Lisbon turned to Jane, only to find that familiar, entertained smile lingering on his face.
“Patrick…”
It had taken some time, but after a few weeks of marriage, Lisbon… Teresa … was finally getting used to calling him by his first name.
“Why do you dislike the idea so much?” she asked, folding her arms.
“No, no, my dear.” He stepped closer, absentmindedly twirling a strand of her hair around his fingers. “I don’t dislike it. I just think it’s a rather peculiar way to celebrate a birthday.”
“I thought Wylie would like it. He mentioned it to me once…” She pouted, adorably.
Pregnant Teresa Lisbon was an event all on its own.
Every day seemed to reveal a different version of her. Sometimes she was fiercer than ever. Sometimes overly emotional. Sometimes she wanted nothing to do with anyone. Other times she became unusually clingy.
Patrick had to admit that last one was his favorite.
The thought came unbidden. He intended to savor every moment of this pregnancy. And if he were ever lucky enough to go through another one with her, he wouldn’t hesitate for a second.
So Jane wasted no time. He leaned in and stole her pout away with a kiss.
She smiled against his lips, welcoming the public display of affection without the slightest hesitation.
Bold mood today.
Noted.
“Don’t worry, love.” He brushed his nose gently against hers. “Your idea is wonderful. Wylie is going to love it.”
He kissed her again, this time with more intent, stealing her breath away. His hand drifted tenderly over the small curve of her belly, subtle but unmistakably there.
He ended the kiss with a string of soft pecks, each one rewarded by the sound of her laughter slipping between them.
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand and guiding her with the gentleness of a feather. “I have a feeling we’re going to be late for the party.”
“I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do with you.” She shook her head, unable to hide her smile.
A slow grin spread across his face.
“I have a few suggestions.” He winked at her.
A blush immediately spread across her cheeks.
Adorable.
Late or not, they made it.
The bar, tucked just a few blocks from the FBI building, welcomed its guests with a warm, lively atmosphere. Music drifted through the room, cozy lights cast a soft glow over the tables, and the air carried the irresistible aroma of appetizers alongside an assortment of colorful cocktails and drinks that seemed crafted exclusively for one memorable night.
“Hey, guys!” Wylie greeted them with a tight hug.
“Wylie, happy birthday.” Lisbon handed him a neatly wrapped gift. “I hope you like it.”
“You really didn’t have to, Lisbon.” He blushed—a talent Wylie seemed to possess effortlessly. “Honestly, this whole evening was already more than enough.”
Lisbon shot Jane a triumphant look.
He answered with nothing more than a fond smile, his hand settling at her waist in a gentle, affectionate squeeze.
“Come on, come on! It’s about to start!” he called, waving them over.
Nothing could have prepared them for the sight that greeted them. Not even the invitation had hinted at what was about to unfold on that stage.
There stood Abbott—former boss, still very much an FBI agent—with a microphone in hand, completely uninhibited, belting out what sounded like Ain’t No Mountain High Enough alongside his wife.
“My God…” Teresa murmured, covering her smile with one hand.
This was going to be a night of revelations.
During business hours, the FBI was filled with serious, intimidating agents. But in the right setting, they knew how to let loose, and in the process reveal surprisingly impressive—and undeniably entertaining—hidden talents.
The Texas office certainly knew how to throw a party.
“I never thought I’d say this, but I’d rather be filling out paperwork,” Cho muttered over his beer, already regretting not leaving five minutes after wishing the birthday boy a happy birthday.
“I never thought I’d say that either,” Jane admitted with a laugh from their table.
“I’m pretty sure you’ll both mean it even more when it’s your turn to get up there,” Lisbon said between bites of the cheeseburger she’d been craving all day.
“You’re going to sing?” Jane asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched her happily devour it.
“Of course I am. I’m not going to be the one who kills the mood.”
Who was this woman?
Hormones.
“Well, this should be entertaining,” Jane said, sounding far too pleased with the prospect of remaining safely in the audience.
Lisbon caught the unmistakable note in his voice.
He had every intention of staying a spectator.
She said nothing.
She already knew exactly how she was going to convince him otherwise.
The birthday boy himself was the next brave soul to take the stage.
It quickly became obvious that, out of everyone there, Wylie was the most excited about the whole karaoke idea. Then again, everyone seemed to be having just as much fun. The singing wasn’t limited to whoever happened to be on stage—the entire bar enthusiastically joined in, turning every performance into a group effort.
Wylie’s first pick was I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles), and he delivered it with an enthusiasm so infectious it perfectly matched the song’s relentless beat. He committed to the performance far beyond what the original singer had probably intended, throwing himself into every lyric.
By the time the chorus came around, the entire room was singing along with him.
Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles
To fall down at your door
Da-da-da-da (da-da-da-da)
Da-da-da-da (da-da-da-da)
Da-da-dum-diddy-dum-diddy-dum-diddy-da-da-da
Lisbon started clapping along to the beat, and Jane, somewhat shyly, joined in. Even Cho looked like he was on the verge of enjoying himself.
After that came Accidentally in Love. Of course he wasn’t going to stop at just one song. And, clearly, the birthday boy had excellent taste in music.
That particular song proved too irresistible for Patrick.
With a grin, he took his wife’s hand and twirled her onto the open floor. For a few brief seconds, they were the only couple dancing.
Then their carefree performance became contagious.
One by one, more people abandoned their seats and joined them, turning the space in front of the stage into an impromptu dance floor.
During the slower parts, Patrick drew her close until there wasn’t an inch of space between them, the two of them gently swaying to the rhythm of the lyrics.
The smile on Teresa’s face made every second of it worthwhile.
We were once upon a time in love
We're accidentally in love
The chorus of voices carried on.
Accidentally in love
Accidentally in love
Accidentally in love
Accidentally in love
Accidentally in love
Accidentally in love
Accidentally in love
Accidentally!
Before she even realized it, Teresa was moving effortlessly under Patrick’s lead, letting him spin and sway her around the floor. Their laughter lingered between them, warm and unrestrained, as they danced.
I'm in love, I'm in love
I'm in love, I'm in love
I'm in love, I'm in love
Accidentally!
And every time the lyrics reached “I’m in love,” Patrick stole another kiss.
Jane held Teresa close, quietly savoring not only his own happiness, but the joy of seeing her so genuinely happy.
When the song ended Wylie stepped off the stage, he was met with cheers, whistles, and enthusiastic applause. All eyes then turned expectantly toward whoever would be next.
Cho drained the last of his beer in a single gulp, set the bottle down, and walked toward the stage.
Whoever had managed to convince Kimball Cho to sing deserved a promotion for sheer persuasive talent.
“This should be interesting,” Jane remarked.
The opening chords rang through the bar, instantly recognizable.
Then Cho began to sing.
There is a house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun
And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy
Dear God, I know I was one
His voice was deep and steady, and to everyone’s surprise, the former California agent delivered House of the Rising Sun with a flawless Texas drawl that somehow suited the song perfectly.
After the infectious energy Wylie had brought to the room, the melancholic strength of the ballad settled over the bar with remarkable ease.
My mother was a tailor…
She sewed my new blue jeans…
And my father was a gamblin’ man…
Way down in New Orleans…
Cho wasn’t singing alone for long.
Before the second verse, a chorus of male voices had joined in, clearly enjoying every second of it.
“The Cho Business never ceases to surprise me,” Jane quipped.
It was a short performance, but it ended to well-earned applause and enthusiastic cheers.
“If I’d known you could sing like that, I would’ve made you the headline act at every CBI charity fundraiser,” Lisbon said as Cho returned to the table.
“It was a one-time thing,” he promised.
No one believed him.
Lisbon took a steadying breath and gently slipped out of Patrick’s embrace.
“I believe it’s my turn.” She kissed his cheek before heading toward the stage. “And don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“Too late,” Jane teased.
A slow beat filled the room as the unmistakable opening of You’re Still the One drifted through the bar.
Teresa started timidly, but with each line her confidence grew.
Looks like we made it
Look how far we've come, my baby
We mighta took the long way
We knew we'd get there someday
Her voice wasn’t extraordinary, nor did it need to be. It was sweet, on pitch, effortlessly in time with the music—and to Jane, there was nothing in the world that could have sounded more beautiful.
They said, "I bet they'll never make it"
But just look at us holding on
We're still together, still going strong
With every verse, his heart seemed to beat in perfect time with the song.
It wasn’t just a love song.
It was their story.
A long road they had traveled together, every lyric echoing the journey that had brought them here.
You're still the one I run to
The one that I belong to
You're still the one I want for life
(You're still the one)
Soft voices harmonized with the song, instinctively understanding the weight of the moment.
You're still the one that I love
The only one I dream of
You're still the one I kiss goodnight
Ain't nothin' better
We beat the odds together
I'm glad we didn't listen
Look at what we would be missin'
They said, "I bet they'll never make it"
But just look at us holding on
We're still together, still going strong
Lisbon smiled through the tender, heartfelt lyrics.
She couldn’t help but feel a swell of emotion. The song seemed to put into words everything she so often struggled to say herself.
After the chorus returned for its second refrain, the song came to an end with one final, overwhelming line.
I’m so glad we made it…
Look how far we’ve come, my baby…
She finished beautifully. Teresa Lisbon had a way of leaving him with nothing to say. And when she reached him, words failed him completely. The only thing he could think to do was kiss her.
“Looks like it had the intended effect,” Lisbon said with a satisfied smile.
“It certainly did.” He breathed her in “After tonight, I want to hear you sing every day.”
Jane looked utterly smitten, falling a little more in love with every new side of her she chose to share.
“Oh, I plan on saving my singing voice for the other Jane.” She smiled, gently rubbing the curve of her belly.
She cut the moment short the instant something occurred to her.
“So… when am I going to hear you up there?”
“Hm?” Jane replied, feigning complete innocence.
“Don’t change the subject.” She gave his side a playful pinch.
“I’m enjoying the show.”
“Jane.” Lisbon looked at him in disbelief.
“I prefer listening.”
“Patrick.”
“My talents lie elsewhere.” He had an answer ready for everything.
“Patrick Jane.” Teresa folded her arms. “Are you scared?”
“Scared?” He let out a scoffing laugh. “Of course not.”
“Then show me.” She nodded toward the stage. “Up there.”
Silence.
He swallowed.
It was a trap.
And he knew it.
But he also knew that losing to his own wife would be even worse.
With an exaggerated sigh, he surrendered. For once, Patrick Jane had absolutely no trick to get himself out of this one.
He took a few moments to settle on a song. It needed to have the right intention. The right effect. And, if luck was on his side, one that would get the crowd singing along and make the outcome a little less disastrous.
A smooth groove rolled through the speakers, followed by the unmistakable, magnetic pull of the bass line.
Can’t Take My Eyes Off You.
You're just too good to be true
Can't take my eyes off of you
The first few lines were all it took to give him away.
He…
Was terrible.
An involuntary smile spread across Lisbon’s face, though she managed to hold back the laughter threatening to escape.
He wasn’t singing off-key on purpose.
It wasn’t one of his usual charming little performances, deliberately exaggerated for effect.
He simply…
Had absolutely no sense of pitch.
You'd be like Heaven to touch
I wanna hold you so much
At long last, love has arrived
And I thank God I'm alive
You're just too good to be true
Can't take my eyes off of you
He drifted into the wrong key.
Came in at the wrong time.
And somehow managed to hold notes that didn’t seem to exist.
Pardon the way that I stare
There's nothin' else to compare
The sight of you leaves me weak
There are no words left to speak
But if you feel like I feel
Please let me know that it's real
You're just too good to be true
Can't take my eyes off of you
Despite the unmistakable lack of practice—and talent—he sang with absolute confidence, flashing bright smiles at the audience as though he were headlining a show in Las Vegas.
Cho lowered his head, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
His colleagues looked just as stunned as Lisbon. Laughter rippled through the bar, confirming one undeniable truth:
Patrick Jane finally had a weakness.
I love you, baby
And if it's quite alright
I need you, baby
To warm the lonely night
I love you, baby
Trust in me when I say
Oh, pretty baby
Don't bring me down, I pray
Oh, pretty baby
Now that I've found you, stay
And let me love you, baby
Lisbon was a delightful mess of emotions.
Part admiration. Part amusement. A touch of secondhand embarrassment.
And completely, hopelessly smitten with the spectacularly off-key man she’d married.
She laughed so hard her eyes began to water.
The crowd quickly caught the mood.
The song’s infectious beat was enough that Patrick Jane’s lack of pitch didn’t dampen the atmosphere in the slightest.
If anything, it made everyone loosen up even more.
People sang at the top of their lungs, just as off-key as he was, laughing, clapping, and dancing along without a hint of self-consciousness.
Let me love you…
Lisbon was the first to start clapping, putting every bit of enthusiasm she could muster into it.
Onstage, Jane’s cheeks had taken on a faint shade of pink. He gave the audience a gracious bow, thanking them as though he’d just finished a starring role in a Broadway musical.
Despite the spectacular gap between confidence and ability, he made his way back to the table wearing an expression that was equal parts embarrassed and oddly proud.
Lisbon was still trying to catch her breath.
“My God…”
Jane sat beside her as though nothing at all had happened.
“You were…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Horrible.” Cho supplied matter-of-factly.
“I disagree.” Jane looked genuinely unconvinced. “I’d call it… an alternative interpretation.”
He actually seemed to believe that.
Lisbon shook her head, laughing again.
“I have to say something, Jane.”
He looked at her curiously.
“Finally!”
He blinked.
“Finally what?”
“I finally found something I do better than you.”
Jane lowered his eyes for a moment. Half a second later, he laughed, a warm, genuine laugh that Lisbon couldn’t help joining.
“That’s not true,” he said once the laughter subsided. “You do plenty of things better than I do.”
“Like what?” She frowned.
He leaned in until only she could hear him.
“You make me happier than I ever could on my own.”
Her mind went completely blank.
Damn. Perfect man with no sense of pitch.
For a few quiet seconds, they simply looked at each other. Then she kissed him, smiling softly against his lips.
“Now it’s my turn to say I’d love to hear you sing like that more often.”
“Really?” Jane asked, sounding mildly offended. “From what I gathered, I was terrible.”
“No, no, no.” Lisbon rested a hand against his chest. “I never said you were bad. I only said I was better.” She bit her lower lip, barely containing another smile.
Wylie’s voice interrupted the lovebirds before either of them could say another word.
“All right, everyone! Time for the duets!”
Jane turned to Lisbon with a smile that wasn’t nearly as innocent as it pretended to be.
“You and me.”
Her eyes widened.
“Oh, absolutely not.”
“So you’re really going to leave me up there to embarrass myself all alone?”
She let out an exasperated sigh.
“You’ve already done that.” She laughed.
“Then you’d better come save what’s left of my reputation.”
He held out his hand.
After a moment’s hesitation, she took it.
Back on stage, Jane sang just as shamelessly off-key as before, never taking his eyes off her. Lisbon realized something: he might not have been trying to sing well at all.
Maybe he’d only wanted to make her laugh.
And if that was the case
It didn’t matter how hopelessly off-key he was.
Patrick Jane was still, somehow, absolutely perfect.