A/N: Thanks for all the feedback on the first chapter, pleased this little venture was to most people's liking. Here's the conclusion.

Chapter 2 - Liftoff

She's leaning against my side two glasses later. I throw caution to the wind and put an arm around her, pull her closer. My self-loathing and caution have departed temporarily with the arrival of smooth amber coursing through my blood. Besides, it's what we both want, the want to feel close before we go our separate ways. We're not good at this, the touchy-feely stuff friendships sometimes have at their epicentre. I've embraced her on exactly five occasions and held her hand twice (and one of those was as part of a pretend séance). She's never instigated physical contact between us and any significant contact on my part in later years was always preceded by a rare moment of honest emotion. Tonight's no different.

Love you, Teresa rattles through my head like approaching thunder.

I vaguely wonder if I'm taking advantage. I decide not in my slightly less than sober state that's enticing me to fall prey to temptation and follow my heart, not my head. A thought occurs that maybe, for once, I'm following both. Despite her small stature, Teresa Lisbon can more than hold her own where alcohol is concerned. The Irish in her blood? Maybe.

She stiffens a little momentarily then inclines her head against my shoulder. The soft satin of her blouse against my fingers is the best thing I've felt in a very long time. I close my eyes and breathe in and out loudly in utter contentment. If I could freeze time I'd select this second right now.

I love this woman. I'm in love with this woman.

Love you, Teresa.

It's not a new alcohol induced revelation, I've known it for quite some time. She's been caring for me in her own determined way since that first day she picked me up from the floor of the CBI with a bloody nose. How the hell will I live without her again? Coming back was supposed to mean I'd never have to endure it twice in a lifetime.

What if I told her how I felt, laid all my cards on the table, allow her to decide where the chips fall? My heart thumps in my chest. I'm both fearful of rejection and perhaps more terrified if my feelings are reciprocated. Christ, I'm a mess and she deserves so much better. At least Pike has his shit together. I have no idea if I ever will. Killing Red John wasn't the solution it was supposed to be. Maybe I'll never be rid of him.

It's better I say nothing and just enjoy the time I have left with her, however short that is.

Love you, Teresa.

Neither of us has spoken in seconds as I run my fingers up and down her upper arm. "You're not asleep, are you?" I ask with a smile.

"No," she says quietly. "This is nice," she adds. Her voice is soft and delicate just like the cloth against my fingertips. I really could live in this moment forever.

"Yes, it is." It's the understatement of the century.

"Do you ever miss the CBI?" she asks.

The question is out of left field and brings me back from the brink of Nirvana. "That's a strange thing to ask."

"Do you?"

I nod against the top of her head. "I was thinking about it earlier this evening, in fact."

She draws her head back to look at me and my fingers fall into thin air. I miss touching her immediately. "You were?"

It takes a second to bring me back to reality and escape the near dream world I was just beginning to explore. "Well, I was thinking about my old cup and it...it kinda went on from there."

She bites her lip at the mention of my CBI teacup and I frown, smelling a secret in the air like a sniffer dog.

"Why do you miss it, the CBI I mean?" she says, bringing the conversation back to her initial question, straightening up (almost) and then leaning an elbow on the table. "I'd have thought that you...well, that you would prefer your life now for...well, obvious reasons."

I've speculated on this for quite some time, especially recently. "I prefer parts of it now, naturally. But other parts..."

She nods for me to continue.

I exhale. "But the CBI was special...it was..." I lick my lips that have suddenly gone dry. This is why I don't drink a lot in company, it makes me too honest. The words spill out. "It was where I met you, after all."

I can see tears gather in her eyes immediately. Lisbon is not a crier by nature but my statement has almost sent her over the edge, no doubt also contributed by the consumption of alcohol, tiredness and the decision to leave Austin.

"We had some good times," she says. She laughs and a tear escapes that she bats away immediately. "Despite all the...murders, I mean. And the trouble you caused me."

"You liked the trouble," I tell her with a grin.

"Oh, I did, did I? Really?" she smiles back.

"Of course," I assure her smoothly. "Your life would have been boring otherwise."

I can see her think about disagreeing but then she nods. "You're right," she says softly. God, I want to kiss her.

She shakes her head. "What does it say about us that we miss it when we...well, you especially...went through one of the hardest times of our lives there?"

"That we're both pretty messed up?" I say with a smile. Red John has taken enough from me, he's not about to take this night with Lisbon too by discussing him with her.

She laughs and tops up our glasses again. I lean forward and take a sip, my elbows on the table. I sense her eyes following my every movement. "We really should have done this when you got back," she says again. This time, her voice is mellow and unbelievably sad.

I turn my head and regret is the only thing I can see in her. I nod and my throat is constricted with pain. I barely whisper, "Why the hell didn't we?" If we had done this then would we have gotten back on track to where we were before I left? Would we have been brave enough to take a leap forward before getting stuck in our past behaviours again like we have now?

Two teardrops fall on her cheeks as she shakes her head. "I don't know."

My vision is impaired by moisture too. "Is it too late?" I just get out. I hope I'm conveying with my expression what I can't seem to say in words. Suddenly, I can't let her go without her knowing how I feel, to have her know how deep my feelings run for her.

She blinks quickly and more tears escape. "I don't know," she says again.

As my recall of the English language has deserted me there is only one last course of action left to take. It's like I'm watching myself as I set my glass on the table and bring the fingers of my right hand towards her cheek. I can't believe I'm being this brave. The scotch is a contributing factor unquestionably; I shamefully doubt I'd be this brazen without it.

My fingertips glide over her skin gently. Her breath hitches and her pupils dilate and darken at my touch. The sound of her breath turns my focus to her lips and she licks them so they are the colour of cherries. She's shaking and so am I but I lean forward and her eyelids flutter closed as her mouth parts willingly in anticipation. I'm no longer thinking about what's right or wrong or what this means for us. I'm acting instinctively as I see nothing but black and feel the softness of her lips as they move against mine. I get lost in the sensations as we explore, tentatively at first. She tastes of tea and whisky and purity and everything good in my life.

Every kiss and every touch as she caresses my cheek with her thumb is reigniting fires over my body I thought were dead. I can feel myself coming to life again against her mouth and I drink more of her in, deepening the kisses, allowing my hands to pull her flush to my chest. The angle is difficult with us squashed against the table but she shifts and is all at once straddling my lap. I let out a growl as she rolls her hips. She's devouring me too and I'm gasping for air but can't let go of her lips. She pulls away first with a deep breath and leans her back against the table as we catch our breaths.

"Well, this is new," I say and regret the flippant remark immediately. The blood flow required to work my brain up to a wittier, more moving or more seductive comment has travelled south.

She doesn't appear to mind as she wraps her arms around my neck with a shy smile. It falters slightly. "How drunk are you, though?"

I look down at the (mildly impressive?) bulge in my pants. "Fairly sure not that drunk."

She laughs as she follows my eyes. "I didn't...I didn't mean that. But...good to know," she smirks. "I meant-"

"Will I regret this tomorrow?"

"Today I think you mean."

I can't believe she's correcting me when we're in this position. My pants tighten further. But, well, I do love a heated debate, I remind myself. I kiss her and shake my head instead of replying and I'm still mildly surprised that she's letting me never mind participating in it.

"You?" I ask, my hands wandering to her sides.

"Drunk? A little. Too drunk not to know what I'm doing? No. Regrets? I probably should have them but no, I doubt I will."

We should probably be talking right now, discussing things before we go any further. But all I can think of is how she'll feel in my arms again and how she'll feel naked and under me, on top of me. I can see our minds are in synch.

I pull her against me again and kiss her.

I wake up and daylight is streaming through the thin cracks in the blinds. The first thing I'm aware of is that I have a slight headache and a dry mouth. The next thing I'm aware of is that my back is cold but my front is scorching. I also have an erection. Lisbon's shapely naked behind and back are tucked up against me. I adjust the throw so it covers my back. Lisbon is a blatant cover hog and I make a mental note to purchase another blanket. I glance over at my beautifully pale sleeping companion and memorise the sight. I smile as a realisation hits me rather belatedly - Lisbon and I are spooning. I've heard of the expression but never imagined I'd ever use it myself. Or that it would make me so inordinately happy to do so. My left hand lies on her belly and I stroke its smooth plane gently so not to wake her, I just need the assurance of her skin to make this moment real. I can still barely believe we made love although the evidence of it lies in front of me and I can still smell the scent of it in the air. I'm lost in memories of our love making for seconds.

Regretfully, I extract myself and press a kiss to her back to use the bathroom and brush my teeth. When I arrive back she's getting dressed and she looks at me in the boxers I've thrown on. Her eyes wander before they arrive at my face. "Hey," she says, buttoning up her jeans. She's nervous.

"Hey yourself," I say in the same vein.

This really is new and both of us don't quite know how to handle it.

"You got water?" she asks.

I nod, pleased to have something to do than just stare at her. I fetch her a bottle from the fridge and she glugs it until it's almost empty. "You need painkillers?" I ask. Shit, maybe she was drunker than I thought she was.

"No. No, I'm good. Just thirsty. Uh..." She looks towards the bathroom.

"Help yourself, there's a spare toothbrush in the cabinet under the sink if you want to use it."

"Thanks." She races past me, barely making eye contact.

I'm making tea when she arrives back eight minutes and three seconds later. Not that I've been counting. I've taken the time to get dressed though I'm still barefoot.

"Sorry about before," she says as I turn around and hand her a cup of Twinings. She inhales the aroma and nods gratefully. It's the nearest thing I have to coffee.

"It's a little weird," I admit with a small shrug.

"Yeah..." The word comes out in a long breath as we look at each other over the rims of our cups.

I've been thinking since she's been in the bathroom.

She never said she was staying in Austin.

She never said she intended to end things with Pike.

Perhaps the night before was just a way of getting me out of her system – a last hurrah before she gets on with the rest of her real life.

Even if that is the case I need to say something to her. Something I should have said the night before. And I need to do it now before I lose my nerve. I'm so close to losing it if she'd been another minute in that bathroom I might have.

"I...I want you to know something, Lisbon. Before...well, before you leave."

The rim of her cup settles against her mouth, the whites of her eyes widening.

"I want you to know," I continue, and I know my voice is shaking as much as my hand is as I place my cup on the counter beside me with the rattle of the china, "I want you to know that I love you. But I understand your decision. He can offer you many things...things I don't know if I'm ready to offer you right now...so I get it. But..." I make my voice stronger as I watch her look at me with fascination, her cup suddenly beside mine now, "But I love you more than he ever will. It's the only promise I can give you but it's the truth. And...if someday you change your mind and decide to come back or if it isn't working out-"

"Jane?" She's shaking her head and her forehead is furrowed in confusion. "What-what are you talking about?"

Now it's my turn to look perplexed. "Well-"

"You thought I was still going to D.C.?" The merest glimmer of her smile makes my knees almost go weak.

"You're not?"

She sets her expression unwavering. "Do you want this?" She points between us.

I don't hesitate. It's all I want no matter how afraid I am. "Yes."

"Okay, then."

My head might just explode. "Okay?"

She laughs and takes two steps until she wraps her arms around my waist. She doesn't realise she's practically holding me up. "How could you even think I was still going to D.C. after last night?"

"This morning...you were acting like you regretted it. Despite what you said last night."

"Yeah, well, yeah, I did. Kind of."

When I frown she adds, "Not because of what happened between us. God, no. I just felt bad because I hadn't ended things with Marcus first. I really should have."

"Oh," is all I manage to say. I suppose I should feel sorry for the guy. But my grin a second later belies any such sentiment.

"I just called him from the bathroom," she states, shooting me a slight glare of disapproval that I'm still smiling. Nevertheless, her arms do not move from encircling my waist and she's smiling too.

"It's over," she tells me. "It's done."

I blink at the lack of irony in her tone as she says those words.

Now, they are the most romantic ones I've ever heard.

- THE END -