Chapter Text
“Don't move!” she cries out, her words echoing through the empty hallway.
The burly man doesn’t listen. They never do because it would be too easy. And how would Lisbon fill her time if not with paperwork, with forms that need filling out, with debriefs to sit through? Just one time, that's all she wants, one single time of raised hands and quick surrenders. But when you’re wanted for double homicide …
Lisbon sprints after the man, her gun lowered but at the ready. Only, he is so far ahead of her already, almost out of sight now, and her legs feel heavy and leaden, like they always do when she is trying to run in a dream. For every step she takes, he takes five, and then he is gone and all that is left to do is pray that Fischer will be waiting for him outside in the parking lot. Then Lisbon is in her car, her knuckles white from clutching the wheel, while she steps on the gas, and Fischer is shouting at her to watch out for the truck that is about to run over a stop sign. Again ... this feeling like she is in a dream. She can see it all play out before it happens: her car colliding with the side of the truck, Fischer dying instantly, the explosion that will leave both their bodies unrecognizable ...
With a start, Lisbon steers the car to the left, barely avoiding the oncoming traffic. And with another start, she wakes, sitting bolt upright, kicking one of the embroidered throw pillows off the couch. She’s okay. There is no truck and no flaming explosion waiting for her. Just Jane and the others. And their murderer? He is safely behind bars, awaiting trial.
Lisbon stretches her stiff muscles and stifles a yawn. She has to hurry if she wants to make it to after work drinks with the others. But the couch is so comfortable, begging her to reconsider. And what is she missing anyway? More talk about the case, and more of the same old dance she's been dancing with Jane for months now, round and round, drawing circles, not knowing how to act anymore, how to be. No, the couch sounds like the better option. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, trying to come up with an excuse for Fischer. A headache sounds believable. She can feel one coming on, actually, and the smell of frying onions isn’t helping.
“Honey, are you up? Dinner's ready.”
Lisbon stifles a groan. She is more tired than she wants to acknowledge.
“Yeah,” she calls back, sinking deeper into Pike’s couch. “Just give me a minute.”
Pike has been planning this dinner for more than a week; he asked her all sorts of questions about her food preferences and which wines she likes. And yet – after the day she just had, she should have cancelled. Pike would understand. Maybe. She should have tried anyway. But now that she is here, she might as well make the best of it.
Lisbon’s back protests when she leans forward to pick the pillow off the floor. Now that she has some distance to this morning, she can see she was too cordial with their killer. She should have kicked him, just like she kicked that frilly pillow; it’s the least he deserves for killing those women and then having the gall to run away from her, making her -- oh no! She forgot to file the insurance claim to get the dent on her car fixed. She groans again. Just when she thought things couldn't possibly get any worse. She reaches for her phone on the coffee table to set herself a reminder, but then she pauses. Maybe … no, it’s a silly idea, really. She can’t possibly ... She has a perfectly fine memory palace in the form of her phone, she doesn’t need to rely on her brain to remember to file that insurance claim tomorrow. But still … there is nothing wrong with giving into that curious itch.
She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, conjuring up the mental image of their old CBI office. There’s the kitchen, the fridge, and over there stands Jane's couch, a dirty tea cup next to it. And Jane ... maybe he would smile fondly if she told him about trying out his little memory palace trick. But more likely than not he would make fun of her.
“Honey?”
Lisbon flinches, her eyes flying open.
Pike is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a dirty tea towel thrown casually across one shoulder, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to protect them from splatters, a faded old apron covering his front. He is holding two plates in his hands, the steam visible in the soft lighting of the living room.
Lisbon grimaces. “God, sorry.”
Pike just shrugs off her tardiness and places the plates on the neatly decorated dining table. “More wine?” he asks, nodding at Lisbon's half empty glass on the couch table.
“Yeah, sure.” She finally pushes herself off the couch and joins Pike at the table, glass in hand.
He hurries to pull out a chair for her and she gives him a soft smile in return. Even though she still feels more exhausted than she has in weeks, the smell of mushrooms and garlic and seared meat awakens something else in her. She places her palm against her grumbling stomach.
“It looks lovely.”
It does. The table is decorated with tall, dark green candles to set the mood. There’s glasses for wine and for water, there are small bowls to hold the side salad, and next to the plates Pike has placed cloth napkins. The only thing missing is a chamber ensemble tucked away in a corner.
Lisbon inhales deeply. “And it smells lovely, too.”
Pike grabs the off-white napkin lying next to Lisbon's plate, shakes it out, then places it on her lap carefully. “Well, this is a special occasion.”
The fabric of the napkin feels strangely coarse against Lisbon's palms as she smooths it out. She watches as Pike refills her glass with more of that deep red wine while taking away the white wine glass with his free hand, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling beginning to grow in the pit of her stomach. She pushes her hair out of her face. “Thank you.”
Pike leans down and places a soft kiss on her lips. “Be right back.”
He disappears back into the kitchen and Lisbon shifts in her chair, trying to get more comfortable. Her stomach grumbles insistently, but the small tartlets and steamed beans and perfectly seared steak have lost some of their appeal. Why does she feel like she has forgotten something vital?
Then Pike is back, the apron gone, the sleeves of his shirt rolled back down and held in place by a pair of shiny cufflinks. He refills his own wine glass, clears his throat, and finally sits down on Lisbon’s right at the head of the table. “So, how was your day?”
Lisbon laughs, a short, loud sound. Pike raises an eyebrow at her.
“Sorry.” She takes a sip from her wine, then a bigger gulp. “We closed the case. That's all that matters.”
“Was Jane -- you know.” Pike shrugs instead of finishing the sentence.
“No, it was my own fault.” Lisbon slices a piece off one of the small tartlets and puts it in her mouth, the hot mushrooms inside burning her tongue. “Oh, this tastes amazing.”
Pike smiles at her. “Thanks.” He tastes his steak, chewing slowly, meticulously. Then he reaches for the pepper. “What do you mean, your fault?”
“Nothing. Just wasn't my day.”
Pike reaches for Lisbon's hand and covers it with his. “It'll only be uphill from here.”
With her free hand, Lisbon makes a vague gesture at the dining table. “This is certainly helping.”
Somewhere on the couch table, her phone vibrates once, making her snap to attention. But she remains in her chair, reaching for her wine glass instead to cover up her lapse. It’s not that Pike doesn’t like her working; it’s about proving he is more important to her. No phones when they are together, that is the deal. Or rather the truce they agreed upon after a horrible fight during which Pike accused her of putting work before him and Lisbon snapped that her job was actually important because they were catching murderers and not merely art thieves. She apologized first, he presented her with a deal: If her phone rang three times within an hour, she could call back. And he promised to be more understanding when she had to cancel a date because of work.
Lisbon pulls her hand out of Pike's hold and cuts into the steak. The meat smells delicious and it tastes even better, practically melting against her tongue. Pike is watching her carefully, waiting for her judgement.
“This is really, really good,” she tells him, taking another bite. “Thank you for going through all this trouble for me.”
Pike looks down at his own plate, smiling softly. “Thanks. I'm always worried you won't like it.”
Lisbon laughs. “You can definitely stop worrying about that.”
“And you should stop worrying about your job. You're a brilliant agent, Teresa.” He raises his glass to her. “After all, you closed the case and put another murderer away.”
Something about his tone doesn’t sit right with Lisbon. He sounds condescending, like a father praising his child for a good grade without having any idea how difficult it was to obtain.
“We should be celebrating,” he adds when Lisbon remains quiet.
Now it’s her turn to reach for his hand. “Well, aren't we?” she asks.
He pulls his hand out from under hers and placed it on top. “We are ... but not your case.”
“You're just saying that because you don't want me to expect a romantic dinner every time I close a case.”
Pike's thumb is drawing soft, reassuring circles against the back of her hand. It makes her skin tingle pleasantly. “If that's what it takes to make you happy, I'll do it gladly.”
“Well, as you know, I'm very hard to please.” Lisbon leans in closer until her lips meet Pike's, her eyes fluttering shut at the contact. He returns her kiss tentatively, his mouth firmly closed. When she tries to pry his lips apart with soft nips and small licks, he pulls back. She opens her eyes and clears her throat. “But you're making a very convincing case for yourself.”
Pike chuckles and sips on his wine, a confident glint in his eyes. “I think we're past that phase where I have to try to win you over. In fact, you're much more smitten with me than you'd like to admit.”
“That depends on what's for dessert.”
That confident glint only intensifies. “As always, I'm one step ahead of you. But finish the main course first.”
Lisbon can’t help but giggle, something she seldomly did before Pike entered her life. “Main course ... you're making it sound as if this is a gourmet restaurant.”
“In a gourmet restaurant, you won’t get a surprise with dessert.”
Lisbon's smile freezes on her face before she can stop it. “What kind of surprise?”
“You know ... if I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise anymore.”
If Jane were here, he'd be able to tell what kind of surprise Pike has in store for her. That thought enters Lisbon's head before she can guard herself against it. And once it’s there, it is surprisingly persistent. Suddenly, she finds herself back on her birthday years ago, sitting at a table at the CBI, her team assembled around her. Jane, a self-assured smile on his face, is making a game of guessing what Cho and Rigsby and Van Pelt have gotten her. For some reason, she remembers that birthday more fondly than most. Jane would take one look at Pike and just know, like he knew back then. But Jane isn’t here. He’s in a bar somewhere, with Fischer and the others, probably entertaining them with embarrassing stories about their time at the CBI. And yet ... a strange kind of longing begins to simmer close to Lisbon's heart, and a meddling voice with ill intentions points out how much she'd prefer to sit at that table in that bar, a cold beer in her hand, good-naturedly reprimanding Jane for his infringement. Lisbon can’t bring herself to shut up that voice.
This time she jumps when her phone vibrates against the sturdy wood of Pike's expensive coffee table. “It isn't even my birthday.”
A mysterious smile spreads on Pike’s face. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “But it's our four-month anniversary.”
Four months? Has it really been that long already? They closed the O'Malley case and then ... no, she was already dating Pike when they closed that case because he brought her a bottle of Guinness to celebrate, even though O'Malley wasn’t Irish. It was his idea of a joke. But it also means Pike is right ... today is their four-month anniversary. That would also explain why he went through so much trouble planning tonight's dinner. Lisbon shifts in her chair, crosses her legs, then uncrosses them again. Her heartbeat quickens and she is aware she is clenching her fists in her lap, but can’t stop herself --
Four months …
“Dinner like this is the only present I need.”
“It's not the only one you deserve though.” He reaches for her clenched fists and laces his fingers through hers, placing their joined hands on the table between them. His grip is tight, but Lisbon doesn’t feel reassured by it. “Since my divorce, I haven't really ...,” Pike goes on, then lets out a small groan. “It was hard for me, at first … let's just say four months is a very long time for me. I never expected to meet a woman like you, Teresa, who would make it all feel so easy again. So yeah, you deserve so much more than what I can give you, and certainly more than this dinner.”
Pike's words make her heart pick up speed, but it isn’t in eager anticipation of what he might say next.
Pike doesn’t give her any time to bring order to her thoughts. “You're very special to me, Teresa. And every day I'm scared you'll realize how dull and boring I am and leave me.”
“I don't –”
Pike interrupts her. “You’re a good-looking woman, Teresa. You’re kind and funny and successful - you know, you could have anyone. And I’m grateful and, quite frankly, stunned that you’d want to be with me. I’d like to think it’s more than my cooking skills.” He pauses to slice another piece off his steak and offer it to Lisbon. Before she can think about it, she picks it off with her lips, her face heating up with embarrassment. “But if it’s not, I’m fine with that too, as long as I know you’re mine.”
Lisbon chews the piece of steak and swallowed it quickly, lowering her eyes. All she can see is their intertwined hands. She has never prayed for her phone to ring more than in this moment.
“There's something I've been meaning to tell you for quite a while now.” Pike straightens his back, a soft look in his eyes. “And I think you're finally ready to hear it.” He takes a deep breath, and Lisbon can hear him murmur, “Okay, here it goes.” And then it’s out there. “I love you, Teresa.”
Where Lisbon should be feeling the same, should let the dizziness of a love confession wash over her, she feels only dread. It comes on so strongly that she has no chance to push it aside and pretend to not be feeling it before her hands are sweaty. And yet she wants nothing more than to deny that dread is there, because she shouldn't let it ruin this moment of celebration and love. Pike is right – four months is a long time, enough time for love to blossom and grow. He confessed his feelings over a carefully planned candlelight dinner and not drunkenly slurred the words into her ear in the back of a cab, his hand too high up on her thigh. But maybe she’d prefer that because it would give justification to the rejection she wants to give him. Like this, there is no reason not to say it back, no reason at all, only that she doesn’t feel the same.
She sighs. “Marcus, I –”
He pulls back his hand; hers feels cold and empty now lying all alone on the dinner table. “That's how I feel anyway, and there’s no reason for me to hide it.” He purposefully avoids Lisbon's eyes trying to seek out his. “But I understand if you need more time.”
“I care about you. A lot.” Lisbon manages a smile; the effort isn’t lost on Pike. “And I want nothing more than to make this work. So thank you for being so understanding.” Those feelings – she is sure they’re there, they just need more time to grow into something solid.
Pike nods. “Take all the time you need.”
He doesn’t look at her when he says it. Instead, his eyes are lowered to his plate where he slices into his steak with a little more force than necessary. Lisbon wishes she’d have words of reassurance to offer him, but nothing comes to mind that wouldn't be a lie. And it is best they remain honest with each other, even if the truth hurts.
Lisbon's resolve doesn’t help with her own feelings of disappointment though. She wishes she could say back those words, wishes she was at that point in the relationship, and that she isn’t makes the delicious food taste stale in her mouth. Still, she has Pike’s reassurance that she can take all the time she needs. He can’t help the way he feels, but his resolve to wait for her speaks volumes. She hopes she’ll be able to repay him one day.
Eventually, Pike stands to clear the table. They haven’t spoken in a while, and even though Lisbon desperately wants to find the right words, her head remains empty. It doesn’t escape her notice though that Pike fails to refill her almost empty wine glass.
“I can't wait to see this mysterious dessert.”
That earns her a small smile before Pike disappears into the kitchen.
Lisbon lets go of a quiet breath. She shifts in her chair, unable to find a comfortable position, then checks her watch, not registering the time at all. Part of her desperately wants to salvage what she can. And another part just wants to be alone so she can make sense of her feelings. She shouldn't be counting down the minutes left until she can go home, shouldn't feel this nervous about messing up even more, not when a sweet guy like Pike is doting on her. At least she is very good at putting uncomfortable feelings into a box and pretending nothing is the matter.
The lid of that box closes firmly when Pike walks back into the living room, carrying two small plates. Each holds a piece of tiramisu topped with a honeycomb.
“Oh wow!” Lisbon breathes when Pike puts down one of the plates in front of her. “Are you serious? Is that a real honeycomb?”
“If I had known that's all it would take to get you excited, I would have brought it out first.”
Lisbon can’t have taken more than two bites, three at the most, before she finds her plate empty. So much for her plans to savor dessert. Trying to suppress a yawn, she leans back in her chair, unable to fight off the day's exhaustion any longer. “This was such a nice evening, thank you very much.”
Pike clears his throat and shifts in his chair, and suddenly he holds a small, turquoise box in his hand. His grip is gentle, as if he is holding a small, injured bird, while he fixes the white bow that holds the lid and the box together. “It's just a little something,” he says with an odd pitch in his voice.
Lisbon's eyes grow wide. She's completely forgotten about the promised surprise. It's too big for a ring, she tells herself, desperately trying to keep that box containing all those uncomfortable feelings closed. It can’t be a ring, it just can’t, but if it is, she won’t be able to stop herself from walking out of here.
Her fingers feel cold against Pike's hot skin when she carefully takes the box from him, scared to ruin it before she's had a chance to open it. It doesn’t feel as smooth as she expects. It lies heavy in the palm of her hand, feeling entirely foreign there. No other boyfriend has ever presented her with something similar. She runs her thumb over the smooth, satin bow, unsure if she should open it and find out what lies inside.
“You're allowed to open it, you know,” Pike says with a nervous smile.
It’s like tearing off a band-aid. One second the bow is whole, the next the ribbon lies next to Lisbon's empty plate and the lid of the box rests in her lap. She is looking down at a fragile, rose-gold bracelet. A single pendant is fixed to it, a small, shimmering diamond shaped like a heart. It is beautiful. And nothing like anything she has ever owned.
“Marcus!” The familiar name comes out all breathlessly. “This is too much. I can't accept this.”
Without a word, Pike stands up and takes the bracelet out of the box. Lisbon can’t stop staring at how the small diamond catches the light from the candles. It has a strangely hypnotic quality to it. Pike undoes the small clasp and puts the bracelet around Lisbon's left wrist, right next to her watch. It feels cold and unfamiliar, and Lisbon immediately checks the clasp to make sure it’s holding tight. The bracelet looks odd lying there against her skin, foreign, as if it doesn’t belong to her at all.
“Now you'll have a small piece of me with you wherever you go.”
“It's –,” Lisbon starts but is interrupted by her phone vibrating for a third time in the span of less than an hour. Not that she’s been counting the minutes.
Three times – it’s the excuse she was praying for. She pushes herself out of her chair, an apologetic grimace on her face. Pike’s expression darkens, and for a second Lisbon is sure he'll push her back down. That notion comes and goes in a flash, but even when he steps aside to make room for her, it leaves a stale taste in her mouth.
She answers on the third ring. “Lisbon.”
“Hi.” It’s Fischer. “God, sorry, I didn't want to call you –”
“No, it's alright,” Lisbon assures her, turning her back on Pike so she won’t have to see the look on his face.
“Abbott wants us all at the office,” Fischer goes on. “There's been a break-in and a murder.”
Lisbon feels that familiar tingling in her hands that comes with the promise of the chase as her heart picks up speed. “I can be there in half an hour.”
There is a tired chuckle coming from the other end of the line. “The briefing starts in 20 minutes.”
Lisbon raises her hand to check her watch, but gets momentarily distracted by the way the unfamiliar bracelet rests against her wrist. She clears her throat – it’s half past ten. “I'll make it work.”
“What's happening?” Pike wants to know as soon as Lisbon hangs up.
Lisbon puts her phone into her jeans pocket. “I'm sorry. It's an emergency.”
“I was hoping you'd turn them down.” Pike is still standing next to the dining table, a forlorn look in his eyes. “It's our anniversary...”
Lisbon is back by his side before she can think better of it and kisses him quickly. “I'll make it up to you,” she promises before making her way over to the front door. “They wouldn't have called if it wasn't urgent.”
She hears a tired sigh. Then, “I'll drive you.”
Lisbon, in the middle of putting on her jacket, pauses. “Are you sure? You don't have to.”
“I want to.”
She pulls him close and kisses him again, then softly says, “Thank you. And thank you for a lovely evening. And this.” She raises her hand, the bracelet tickling her skin.
Pike's hand finds the back of Lisbon's head as he brings their lips together, and soon Lisbon finds herself breathless from the force of the kiss. All evening, she was hoping for something like this, and now that Pike is finally giving her what she needs, her heart isn’t in it anymore. There’s a break-in to solve and a murderer to catch, and Lisbon's exhaustion has vanished. A small part of her is relieved Fischer interrupted the evening so unexpectedly. She won’t admit she was hoping for something like this, but she also won’t pretend to be heartbroken.
Or maybe she is still tired after all.
There she is! Her hair is flattened on one side (she was napping at some point) and there is a shine in her eyes (alcohol?) but other than that she looks just the same as she did four hours ago when Jane saw her last. His whole face lights up when he spots her stepping out of the elevator, and there is nothing he can do about it. Not that he wants to, anyway. After all, didn’t she tell everyone she was busy tonight? And yet here she is, ready for a new case. Giving Jane an excuse to spend time with her. He straightens his jacket and runs his fingers through his hair before making his way past all the tired FBI agents to meet her.
But there! She isn’t alone. How did it take Jane until he’s almost in front of Lisbon to notice Pike? He pales next to Lisbon; it’s such a simple thing to overlook him. One of Pike's hands rests on the small of Lisbon's back, making it clear he is here for her. Which means they were spending time together. Which, in turn, reveals the nature of Lisbon's evening plans. Jane should have known, and he quietly curses himself for being caught by surprise so easily. Wasn’t it obvious?
But god! It’s impossible to think straight when Pike is around, and even harder when he is touching Lisbon so intimately. Jane breathes in slowly, counts to six, and exhales in an attempt to steady himself. He maybe has a second left before they spot him, one more second to shake off those signs of jealousy (the frown, the tight fists, the clenched jaw). He has to try, at least, for Lisbon's sake. And sure enough, his fist unclenches, his jaw relaxes; what remains is that damned unbearable tightness in his chest he can never fully shake off, no matter how many breathing exercises he puts himself through. And whenever Pike is around, he feels like he is about to choke. He knows he tends to lash out then, knows it doesn’t take much to set him off, but he has himself under control, at least tonight. The way they were with each other before Red John – before everything – he can never get that back. But his chances will diminish even further it he keeps humiliating Pike.
Jane's time has come and gone. He had his chance, more than one, actually, but he always let it pass. Now it is Lisbon's turn to be happy, and the least he can do is to be the supportive friend she needs him to be. If that involves him keeping his messy feelings well away from her and her ... boyfriend, then so be it. He hides everything else behind a smooth smile.
“Hello, Lisbon. How nice of you to join us.”
The tired look on Lisbon's face is replaced by a tentative smile. It lights up Jane's entire world.
“Can't say the same about you,” she teases, and for the span of a blissful second things are like they’re supposed to be.
“Bad evening, was it?” Jane teases her back, hoping desperately to prolong this.
Instead, Lisbon's expression turns serious. “No.”
Pike's hand wanders from the small of Lisbon's back to her waist and he pulls her into him. To Jane, it feels like being shot right in the chest. But Lisbon ... she doesn’t lean into the contact, doesn’t smile softly at Pike. Her shoulders stiffen and her hand twitches as if she is fighting the urge to ball it up into a tight fist. Something happened between them, maybe even changed, something Lisbon tries to ignore as best as she can. Maybe it isn’t a shot after all, maybe Pike's casual display of affection just feels as if someone shoved Jane. Lightly.
“We could have managed without you, you know.”
“It's alright.” Lisbon takes a step to the side, away from Pike, and he lets go of her. Then, for the first time, she looks at Jane as if she really sees him. “I'm surprised to see you here, actually.”
Jane stifles a laugh. “Who could say no to a case like this? Murder? Theft?” He leans in closer to Lisbon, so he can whisper directly into her ear, “A stolen diamond?” Lisbon's eyes widen in surprise. So she doesn’t know about the diamond yet.
"If someone's dead, that's armed robbery," she corrects Jane.
Pike slings his arm around Lisbon's waist again and pulls her back into him, away from Jane. She lets him.
To keep the peace, Jane ignores it. “The Heart of Eternity,” he goes on. “It's one of the most valuable diamonds in the world. Extremely rare. Shaped like a heart, obviously. And it was stolen earlier tonight. Whoever took it killed the governor’s nephew, too. That's reason enough for them to want the best of the best on the case.”
“I'm surprised they called you then.” There is no malice in Pike's voice, just cold, casual observation.
Jane shoots him a sly smile. “I was talking about Lisbon, actually.”
Pike glances around the steadily filling room, at the small groups of people deep in conversation, at the few who have already taken their seats in front of the video wall. Despite the late hour, it is as busy as during the middle of the day. “There are many capable agents here,” he observes. “I'm sure you’d be able to solve this case without Teresa having to be here in the middle of the night.”
For the first time since she stepped out of the elevator, Lisbon acknowledges Pike. “The politics –”
Pike interrupts her without batting an eye. “You know full well they just need you to babysit Jane.”
Now Jane's hand twitches, begging to be allowed to form a fist. Pike really isn’t making this easy. But Jane won’t let himself be provoked that easily. “They need her to find a 16-million-dollar diamond. And solve a murder.”
“Jane...,” Lisbon starts.
Abbott chooses that moment to call everyone to order. Jane is grateful – any more of this, and Lisbon won’t talk to him for three weeks because he embarrassed her. Lisbon is already pulling away from Pike, but he pulls her back and kissed her, hard, making sure it doesn’t escape Jane's attention. Jane manages to keep his face blank, an impressive achievement he thinks. And it doesn’t matter anyway, because as soon as Pike is done with his little territorial display, he saunters back over to the elevator. Solving murders – that is something that belongs to Lisbon and Jane, something Pike will never be a part of.
Lisbon chooses a seat right in front of the video wall and Jane rushes over to take the one next to her. He is right where he belongs. And his first order of business is to try and catch Lisbon’s eye. She only glances at him, and when he smirks, she shakes her head and raises a finger to her lips. Always following rules and conventions. But people are still settling down and Abbott is waiting, his arms crossed over his chest.
Jane leans in closer to Lisbon and whispers, “Did you have a nice evening?”
Lisbon's jaw lightens. “Yes.”
A lie. Interesting. He plays along. “I meant what I said. We could manage without you if you'd rather be somewhere else. I'm sure no one will think worse of you if you take the night off.”
“No.” There is a lot of emphasis on that word. “I want to be here.”
I want you to be here, too. “Hm,” he makes, then straightens his back and turns his attention to the video wall.
Lisbon is telling the truth: She wants to be here. And she lied about her evening. At least Jane thinks she did. Ever since Pike entered their lives, he can’t be certain of anything anymore where Lisbon is concerned. Once, she was an open book to him because she wore her heart on her sleeve. Now it’s locked away somewhere and the last person she wants to show it to is Jane. It doesn’t matter – at least he got her back after everything he did. And even though it isn’t the same and never will be again, they are still working together. Lisbon is still his partner. It’s enough. It has to be.
And what changed, really? Yes, they are living in a different state, yes, they are working for a different agency, yes, they now have a huge video wall that is currently displaying a picture of the crime scene that is decidedly too large for Jane (he didn't even know cameras could capture head shot wounds in such striking detail), but the core of it all is still the same. A crime was committed and it’s their job to catch whoever did it. And yet ...
Lisbon, sitting on his left side, has crossed her right leg over her left and has turned her right shoulder forward, forming a physical barrier between herself and Jane. It’s always like that when she just saw Pike, and it always takes her a few hours to relax around Jane. She keeps him at arm’s length for most of the day, and it’s only when he goes to great lengths to tease her out of her shell that she lets her guard down. As soon as Pike picks her up for lunch or to take her out to dinner, she snaps shut again. No more asking Jane's advice, no more evenings spent quietly working next to each other, no more voicemails of, “Call me when you get this,” or “Jane, where are you? I need you to call me”. She isn’t concerned with his whereabouts anymore, doesn’t have time to stay after hours to go over a case, doesn’t want Jane to help her improve her poker game or catch a killer who is always one step ahead of her.
There is a splinter stuck deep in Jane's chest, and it doesn’t matter if he tries to pull it out or if he ignores it – it just keeps growing. It wasn’t yet there when he returned from Venezuela because Lisbon forgave him for everything: for killing Red John, for disappearing for two years, for treating her worse than anyone has ever treated her. His biggest mistake was to go right back to pretending nothing happened. And when he felt like maybe it was time to ask Lisbon out, that this was something she wanted too, Lisbon got herself a boyfriend. Not a one-night stand, not a fling, but a proper, serious boyfriend. And Jane got the Airstream. It was all downhill from there.
Jane is jealous of Pike, there is no use denying it. In fact, he is proud he feels that way, proud he can be so honest with himself. He doesn’t want to play any more games where Lisbon is concerned. But she is playing games with him, shutting him out, letting him in again only to push him away ... if she is as serious about Pike as she pretends to be, there really is no need for this dance. It’s been four months of this now and Jane is getting tired. He wants Lisbon to be happy, that is the only thing that matters to him, but he wants her to make up her mind about whether she wants him around or not too. She can ignore their issues if she wants to, pretend like nothing has changed, but the body doesn’t lie. She is shutting him out.
Feelings can’t lie either. And it hurts.
Next to him, Lisbon shifts, pulling him out of the spiral that is so familiar to him by now he doesn’t even notice when he gets himself lost on its downward slope. Lisbon has just raised her left hand and Jane's gaze gets caught on an unfamiliar glint right there on her wrist. A bracelet that wasn’t there this morning, a bracelet that doesn’t suit Lisbon at all. If that's how Pike sees her ... well, he knows her even less well than Jane suspected. One look at Lisbon should tell him that a rose-gold bracelet with a sparkling diamond on it is the last thing that suits her. Surely, she is only wearing it as a favor to him.
Abbott nods. “Lisbon.”
“If they are under surveillance, why hasn't there been an arrest yet?” Lisbon asks.
Jane glances at the video wall. Who is under surveillance? That horrid crime scene photo is gone, replaced by the picture of brilliantly blue diamond. Next to it, there are some grainy surveillance pictures of four different people – two men and two women. Jane clears his throat and crosses one leg over the other before checking his watch.
“To be honest, they're too careful for us,” Abbott answers. “We have yet to connect them to any of the thefts we know they're responsible for.”
Lisbon pulls a grimace. “From what you've told us, they just sound like a bunch of spoiled children.”
Jane turns his full attention to the video wall then. Lisbon is right – their four suspects certainly look young. One of the women is in her early thirties with long blonde hair that frames her face in gentle waves. The other woman is even younger, her red hair cropped short. She wears three earrings in her left ear. The two men are less striking, less conspicuous. They both are a little older, they both have brown hair they’re wearing in similar cuts. One of them has a crooked nose that looks like it’s been broken a few times and has a scruff in almost every picture. The other has a handsome face and a handsome smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. All four of them are wearing expensive clothes that betray they have no taste at all.
“They're not spoiled – they’re working hand for their money,” Jane contradicts Lisbon. “Look at the watch on that man's wrist.”
“So?” Lisbon shrugs. “It's ugly.”
Jane claps once, loudly. “Exactly! No one who was raised with a silver spoon in their mouth would wear something as atrocious as that.”
There is no response from Lisbon; she simply turns her attention back to the video wall. There won’t be any back and forth then, no exchange of observations that will get them closer to solving this. Jane winces (barely) at the small stab of disappointment he feels at Lisbon's rejection.
“They're earning their money by stealing diamonds,” Abbott points out. “But you're right: We know they don't come from money.”
Jane manages to keep a smug smile off his face. “Do they usually kill people during their ... heists?”
Lisbon shoots him a pained look and now he can’t help but smile. She does lack a romantic streak. He can practically hear her say, “Heist? This isn't a movie, Jane.”
“No, this is the first time,” Abbott answers.
Jane whistles appreciatively. “And they immediately went for the governor's nephew?”
“We think it's simply a coincidence. Richard Briscoe had no business being anywhere near that diamond. It belongs to a wealthy business man from Argentina.”
“Ah,” Jane makes, “but there's no such thing as coincidences.”
Lisbon stifles a sigh. “So, what's our way in?” Somehow, she manages to turn even further away from Jane.
“We’re still working on that. We can tell these four,” Abbott enlarges one of the surveillance photos, “are running this operation as some sort of club or secret society. It’s impossible to get close to them.”
Abbott has Jane's full attention now. “What do you have to do to become a member?”
The corners of Abbott's mouth twitch as if he is trying to hold back a smile. “Be a diamond thief, of course. And as far as we can tell, there are some ... personal criteria as well.”
“Like what?” Jane wants to know.
Abbott glances at the file in his hand. “We think they only accept couples into their group.”
Lisbon snorts. “What a stupid idea.”
There is a broad grin on Jane's face when he retorts, “No, it's a genius idea. If you're already ... tied up, you won't be tempted to betray your co-workers for a fling.”
“Money is a much bigger motivator than love,” Lisbon points out.
“Well, speak for yourself. I wouldn't want to betray a group of murderers and leave my wife in their hands while I make off with a pretty blonde.”
Lisbon shakes her head emphatically. “Single people are much more reliable. No messy feelings.”
“But wouldn't you do anything to protect Pike? If they tell you, ‘Bring back our money or the handsome fella gets it’? I'm sure you'd do anything to protect him.”
It sounds so very defensive when Lisbon shoots back, “If that handsome fella was you though...”
Abbott clears his throat and shoots Jane a look that clearly says stand down. “Mr. Briscoe was killed here in Austin, but the suspects have their base in Key West. We'll start there. I want you all to familiarize yourselves with the case file until tomorrow and then we'll decide how to proceed. You're dismissed.”
Jane jumps up and grabs two of the case files Abbott is handing out. Lisbon is right behind him and he hands one of the files to her. “Do you need me to take you home?”
Lisbon has tugged the file under one arm and is already typing on her phone. “Marcus is waiting for me.”
“Oh,” Jane makes. “Okay.”
She is too fast for him. He doesn’t even have time to process that her boyfriend is still in the building before she is already halfway to the elevator.
“Good night, Jane.” It’s nothing more than an afterthought.
And there is nothing he can do.
“Good night, Lisbon," he says quietly.