Sorry, as I re-read through the chapters I kinda notice the wacky timeline. If it seems unclear to you (if you bother at all) this chapter takes place the afternoon of the second day of investigation.

And thank you so very much for the reviews, they make me so happy. I'm very relieved that you guys find this realistic enough and in character. Thank you!!

Disclaimer: Same as always. Wish I owned the script, but I don't.

Lisbon braced herself and knocked on the door. Here we go again. Mrs. Allen had graciously allowed the Senior Agent and her team to come back and pursue the follow-up questions (well either that or the poor woman would be arrested for obstruction to the law). Hearing footsteps coming towards the door, Lisbon shot Jane her most pleading look and whispered: "Please, behave yourself."

Jane simply stared back, eyebrows raised, eyes wide and innocent. The door swung open.

"Mrs. Allen, thank you for receiving us again. This is Agent Van Pelt, and you've already met M. Jane."

Jane waved slightly in acknowledgment. Although the woman did let them in she was undeniably still upset at what had happened in the morning. Van Pelt jumped in with the most soothing voice she could muster to ruffle down the feathers.

"Mrs. Allen, we understand that this is still a very difficult time for you but we would need to speak with you son, Nelson. Is he here?"

As if on cue, a load roar came tumbling down the stairs and into the living room. A little boy with a messy tuft of curly brown hair appeared, rolling a toy sports car - which had obviously been tested in the mud - on every piece of furniture he came across, vrooming and screeching with every acceleration and curbs. His mother called him to quiet down, but the order didn't faze his energy. Mrs. Allen turned back to the agents.

"Look, whatever you want to ask my boy I'm hearing too. He's got nothing to hide from me."

"We understand, Ma'am, and weren't insinuating as such, but-" Van Pelt was interrupted by a particularly intense braking.

"Nelson! Quiet down or go to your room!" the mother shouted.

Jane opened his mouth. Taking control of a situation was his forte. Except when Lisbon suddenly took off for the living room. Intrigued, he remained pinned in place, watched in silence, rubbing his fingers together. Then he followed. Van Pelt couldn't help but smile. She loved watching Jane follow Lisbon everywhere like an overenthusiastic puppy. She tightened her lips in an attempted to hide the smile.

"He's shy, you know. He's not going to talk to strangers just like that." Mrs. Allen asserted confidently. Van Pelt nodded for show and proceeded to the living room, where she saw her boss crouched in front of the little boy.

Lisbon gently caressed Nelson's hair, causing him to stop mid-rally and look at her, frozen. He clutched the toy to his chest. "Hey buddy. What've you got there?" Lisbon asked in a low, soft voice.

"A super-rally sports car." Nelson answered timidly.

"Wow! It looks like it's really fast. How fast can it go?" The child saw the interest sparkling on the woman's face.

"Super fast! It can go in the sand too!" he answered proudly.

Jane was struck. The tough as nails, no-nonsense agent discussing grand rally toy cars?! He had never seen this side of Lisbon before. But apparently she would never seize to surprise him. He smiled in wonder and came to crouch next to her, looking at the boy very seriously. The kid was hanging to those blue eyes, breathless, waiting for the man to speak.

"But can it go in the grass?" Jane asked dubitatively.

The boy straightened to all his height, rising to the challenge. "Yes, it can!"

"Mmmh. You're sure about that?" Jane asked again, eyebrows scrunched up, appearing to be genuinely concerned at the plausibility of the claim. "Why don't you show me?"

Nelson's eyes doubled in size. A massive grin illuminated his face before he darted for the front lawn. There wasn't a minute to waste.

Jane quickly stood up to follow him. Mrs. Allen reached an arm, ready to protest.

"Perhaps it's better if your son isn't around, we need to talk to you." Lisbon jumped in with an endearing smile.

"Oh. Okay." The woman turned back to the living room and sat down on the sofa, clearly taken off guards. Lisbon inhaled deeply and glanced up.

And stopped breathing.

Jane was by the door, staring at her, boring is eyes into hers. Despite the distance it felt like his face was only an inch away. She could only see his blue eyes.

Then she realized he was waiting for something. Waiting for her approval to be left alone with Nelson and ask him what he could possibly know about his sister's murder.

Lisbon answered with an imperceptible nod.

Jane stared back, perhaps a second longer than necessary, quirking the corner of his mouth in a barely there smile, and stepped outside.

That second longer…

Lisbon shook her head and turned to the living room.

Maybe it was just her imagination.

For sake of form, Lisbon apologized once again for their earlier behavior, stressing the fact that it had been her first time working with Agent Praid and she hadn't anticipated how he would handle the situation. Yes, it was low, especially for her, to wash her hands off her responsibilities, but cooperation hadn't seem to rank high on Praid's list anyway, so let him deal with it if the woman ended up formulating a complaint. She would have enough dealing with the complaints that would inevitably be formulated against Jane.

With just a look, Lisbon prompted Van Pelt to get on with the questions. Van pelt straightened in her seat and began.

"Ma'am, is there anyone who comes regularly to your house? Friends, neighbors, colleagues?"

"Not really. The only one who comes often enough is Arthur. Arthur Winsfield. I know him from middle school. He also lives in Santa Rosa suburb. We kept in touch really just because we know each other from way back and he's a teacher at the kids' school."

"You told us that you weren't involved with anyone at the moment? Romantically and sexually? We really must know if this was a strictly platonic relationship." Lisbon asked.

Mrs. Allen looked baffled again for a second. "We're just friends, I promise." she insisted. Lisbon nodded understandingly. "Okay. Just covering our basis."

"Do your colleagues know your family? Have your children met any of them?" Van Pelt continued.

"No. My colleagues and my boss know I have children but that's about it. We celebrated Nelson's last birthday there, at the restaurant, because I had a discount, but that's the only time they've been there. I spend enough of my time there already."

"Is there any other place you often took Pamela to?" Lisbon interrupted again.

Mrs. Allen shook her head feebly. "No, not particularly. She'd come shopping with me sometimes, but most of the times I do the groceries when the kids are in school."

"What about during your free time? There's a park nearby. Did you ever bring Pamela there? Or did she go on her own?" Lisbon continued. Van Pelt thought she was supposed to do the questioning, but judging by the tightness of her boss' features and her sharp professional tone she considered it safer to keep her head down and scribble down anything interesting.

"No. Why?"

Lisbon wanted to slap her. This had been a genuine question. As in 'why should I bring my children to the park?'. Lisbon gladly admitted she didn't go all gooey and soft in front of children, but children were meant to play, to have fun, to chase each other around playing make-belief. Apparently this woman didn't deem it an approvable investment of her time to take her children outside to run around. To spend a family day at the park.

The kind of day that had died along with her mother.

Lisbon bit her bottom lip, focusing her gaze on the window rather than on the woman sitting in front of her. She made an effort not to spit the words in her face.

"So during your free time you stay at home, and so do your children."

"Yes. I don't want them outside when I'm not there." Mrs. Allen answered. Her face contorted with pain. "Look what happened to my little girl!" she choked in tears.

Suddenly all of Lisbon's anger evaporated, and she was left only with the familiar guilt of watching victim's families in pain. She hated it, being the messenger of death, berating hurt innocents with questions until they had enough information. But it didn't compare to sending a murderer to prison, getting what he or she deserved. To setting things right.

She knew she had control issues.

"I'm sorry." She said truthfully. She reached out a hand, hesitated, and settled it on Mrs. Allen's knee, comforting. The mother looked up into her eyes. "I'm sorry" Lisbon repeated softly. Mrs. Allen pursed her lips, trying to stop the tears from flowing, and nodded.

***

Outside, Jane had been sitting on the grass, watching Nelson as he raked his car through the dirt in series of complex turns. It was easier that the kid was a boy. It helped blocking out memories of what seemed like another lifetime, when he would be sprawled on his stomach in the grass with his daughter, exploring their garden's wildlife, analyzing the latest beetle of their finding. A time when their home was his sanctuary, where nothing could possibly happen to them, keeping the dangers and the ugliness of the world at bay.

And if what happened to Pamela was anything to go by, the little boy playing in front of him wasn't protected by the walls of his own home either.

"Did Pamela play cars with you?" Jane asked. Nelson shook his head no, his curls flying around.

"She doesn't play cars." He answered.

"No? What did she play then?"

"She colors in books."

"Did she color in books when your mom is working?"

"Sometimes. Mom doesn't want us to stay outside after school, so we stay in the living room. I can play around because Pam stays on the sofa with her coloring book." In other words the girl did take care of her little brother and looked after him.

"What do you like to do in school?" Jane continued.

"When the teacher reads us stories. Sometimes Pam reads me stories too because I'm not very good at reading yet."

Jane forced a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. Nelson kept using the present tense. His sister had always been there. Why should she suddenly vanish and be talked about as something from far away?

Nelson paused, the toy car immobile in his small hand. "She won't be reading me stories anymore, will she?" He asked in a defeated voice. His big brown eyes were staring at Jane's, big eyes only asking for honesty. Jane had no problem fooling adults. They were desperate to hear only what they wanted to hear. So he would tell them, and they would be eating from the palm of his hand. But children were disarming. They left you with nothing but guilt, because they'd rather have the painful truth than a beautiful lie. And he was envious, for being able to swallow that pain into such a small body and take it in, and accept it, and go on.

Jane bit his tongue. He had to remind himself of where he was now.

"What about Pam, what did she like to do in school?"

Nelson didn't answer and remained silent for a while, dragging his car back and forth in the mud, the tiny plastic driver inside no doubt drowning by now.

"Pam doesn't like school. They say she's slow and good for nothing."

Jane's eyebrows shot to his hairline. Well that's shocking, coming from a kid.

"Who's 'they'?"

"It's what Arthur says to Mom."

Jane racked his brain but couldn't remember encountering any Arthur in the investigation so far.

"Who's Arthur?"

"He's a teacher."

"You call your teachers by their name?"

"Nooo!"Nelson dragged out the word, as if the answer was so glaringly obvious. Jane stiffled a smirk at the child's exasperation, and frowned instead, trying his best to look as serious as Nelson. It's insane how children can make you feel dim-witted sometimes.

"Mom said that we could call him by his first name because he's a friend." Nelson got up, and conscientiously wiped his dirty hands on his pants.

"Oh. Well, that makes sense." Jane said to the empty space left by the boy, before getting up and following him back towards the house.

"Nelson."

The boy turned around on the last step of the porch.

"Does Arthur come to your house sometimes?"

Nelson nodded.

"Is your mom here when he comes?"

Still remaining silent, Nelson shook his head.

"You don't like Arthur?" It wasn't really a question, so Jane wasn't surprised when Nelson shook his head no again. Jane felt it, that thrill burgeoning in his nerves, the electricity tingling in his muscles that told him he was close to the great revelation, close to solving the case. But before Jane could ask the one question that would reveal if this Arthur was the one who beat up an 11 year old girl to death, the front door opened, and the mother, Lisbon and Van Pelt stepped out.

"Ladies, perfect timing. Nelson and I are done testing the car. You'll be happy to hear that it's very efficient in the grass." Jane clapped his hands together and announced cheerfully, smiling at the kid. Lisbon immediately understood that the consultant had managed to question the little guy and prayed he had gotten vital clues. She turned to thank the mother and assured her that they would call as soon as they had anything new. Van Pelt offered a tight smile to Mrs. Allen and proceeded down the steps, followed by Lisbon.

When she reached Nelson, Lisbon couldn't help herself. She stooped to the boy's level and once again brushed her fingers through his hair. "I'll see you soon, okay? Bye-bye."

Nelson returned a shy but broad smile. "Bye-bye."

Lisbon smiled back, then walked away.

Walking towards her agents she saw Van Pelt with a weird look on her face, unnaturally still. She had gotten to know the rookie of the team by now, and could tell she was working on speaking her mind or keep quiet. Amusing as it was to watch the conflict of emotions play on her face, Lisbon didn't have much patience left for the day and wished the younger woman would just spit it out. Besides, her smile was getting contagious.

"What?" She asked as she passed by her.

"Nothing!" Van Pelt blurted a little too fast. She tried to regain her composure, but couldn't help her honest streak. " It's just that… I've never seen you with kids before, and I just thought it was cute. I'm sure you'd be a really good mother." she rambled without thinking.

Lisbon stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes went wide like saucers, and she could feel her face burning up.

Jane burst into laughter. Like that, frozen in place, she looked like a rabbit caught in the light, expect with extra-large green eyes. He was still laughing his head off while Van Pelt sputtered, trying to explain herself. "It was a compliment! I didn't mean to embarrass you. I just thought you were really sweet with that little boy… because I've never seen you interact with kids before."

Lisbon self-consciously patted down her hair, gradually regaining her bearings. She had to stop Van Pelt's rattling. "It's okay, don't worry."

But it did nothing to abate the embarrassment. Only solution: a prompt escape. Lisbon strode to the car as fast as she could, but Jane caught up with her in two long strides, and still wearing that annoying large grin, like he was about to burst any moment. Van Pelt also caught up and matched her pace, straight as a ram-rode. Damn tall people.

"I have nieces and nephews." Lisbon mumbled. Hopefully that would shake them off.

Jane and Van Pelt glanced at each other over their boss' head (bless her short height) and exchanged a smile. Lisbon was either pissed or looking for a rock to crawl under. Jane guessed it was the latter. Van Pelt was short of cooing. But they were both very aware of the fact that the fierce Agent Lisbon had (almost) willingly shared a detail of her personal life, something that would never have trespassed their office grounds. Something big.

And Jane couldn't possibly let the opportunity pass. "At first anybody would think you'd be allergic to children, but now I can see it clearly. I bet you're the favorite aunty baking cookies with the kids and ending getting flour on your nose and marshmallow in your hair and not noticing until evening." He spoke with this all-knowing tone that grated on Lisbon's nerves, like she was one of those people he would analyze to impress the gallery. She jiggled the car keys into the car door, trying to get out of this predicament sooner than later. He'd nailed it right on target. Lisbon's blush returned ten folds. She could feel it, tried to fight it, but could do nothing to control it, which annoyed her immensely. She glared at the lock. The damn thing wouldn't open. Resentment was added to shame in the tinge of red on her cheeks.

"You're blushing."

Not shit, Captain Obvious!

Lisbon glared at him and his excessively large grin. "Do you have to announce it to the world?"

His smile turned into the million-dollar jackpot.

One day she wouldn't be able to stop her fist from wiping off that grin.

***

Van Pelt's fingers flew across her laptop at top speed, searching on the school's website for names and pictures of the teaching staff. Lisbon was walking back and forth, trying not to crush the cup of coffee in her hands.

"Anything?"

"I'm almost there."

"We've questioned Pamela's teachers. None of them were Arthur Winsfield." Rigsby stated, perched on Van Pelt's desk.

"Mrs. Allen didn't say Winsfield was Pamela's teacher. She said that he was a teacher at her kids' school." Lisbon explained.

"But he knew her well enough." Jane mumbled, eyes lost in the distance. Lisbon stopped pacing and turned to look at him, waiting for an explanation. When nothing more seemed to be coming, she stretched her arms, motioning for him to continue. "Jane?"

Jane swiftly turned on his heels, right in front of her.

"Nelson said Pamela didn't like school, that she wasn't faring well, because he heard Arthur told his mother that Pamela was 'good for nothing'. Which means that even though he wasn't her teacher Arthur knew about Pamela's grades."

"Maybe he heard it from other teachers." Cho offered, stoically standing next to Rigsby.

"Got it!" Van Pelt exclaimed. Lisbon immediately leaned next to her to see the computer screen.

"Arthur Winsfield, teaching 7th and 8th grades." Van Pelt read.

"Neither Pamela's nor Nelson's classes." Lisbon interjected.

Jane came to stand behind Van Pelt to see the picture of the man. M. Ordinary. Lean face, dull brown hair probably on their path to grey, non-descript blue eyes, thin framed glasses. Regular portrait picture, so hard to tell, but not an apparent muscular frame under that pale yellow shirt.

It screamed math teacher from miles away.

Math teacher, but not particularly scary. Jane narrowed his eyes on the picture, staring at M. Ordinary. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

What could that man had possibly done to those kids if Nelson was afraid of him?

"Jane!"

Jane shot up straight, his head snapped up to Lisbon. Her brows were furrowed and she was looking at him expectantly. He hadn't been listening.

"Did you hear what I said?"

That would be a no. Jane glanced at Rigsby who was trying not to smile. The big guy loved the rare times when Jane was caught off guards. There was only one way out of this. Jane straightened, rubbed his fingers together, and proceeded to look like he possessed all the knowledge in the world.

"Nelson is afraid of that man. Either because he saw or heard something he shouldn't have. But it didn't seem Arthur Winsfield ever harmed Nelson. He didn't seem… scared enough."

Jane looked at Lisbon. "More like he couldn't talk about something." He wondered, his eyes locked with hers.

Lisbon was riveted to his stare. She was doing it again, standing on the precipice, on the verge of falling into his eyes.

She slammed her cup on the desk, startling Van Pelt.

"Okay. Rigsby, Cho, go to Winsfield's house, ask him where he was on Friday night and how come he hasn't shown his face when the daughter of his supposedly good friend was murdered. I'll be in debriefing with Praid." Lisbon delivered her orders, avoiding Jane's eyes, and walked out of their office.

They all watch her retreating back.

"How is she doing?" Rigsby asked, careful to keep his voice down.

"Not good." Cho answered. His even tone was unnerving, but by the way he had yet to detach his eyes from his boss' back, Jane knew he was worried.

Jane knew that sometimes he tried a little too hard to read her. Lisbon was easier to read when she tried to cover things up, when usually people were transparent when not bothering to hide anything. But of course she would have to be the other way around. And she had tried a little too hard not to react to his words, tried to keep the mask of cool on while attributing their tasks. Her eyes had hardened, the green a little less vivid. What really worried him was that she wasn't bothering to try and fool them.

"Having to deal with those idiots probably doesn't help either. I heard what happen with Praid. They're not doing anything, but they still manage to get on her nerves." Rigsby grumbled.

Van Pelt remembered Lisbon crouched in front of Neslon, how she had had no difficulty matching his height. She swallowed. "She's petite as an adult. Imagine what she must have been like as a kid." She shook her head. "How did she live through that?"

No one answered. They didn't have to ask what she was talking about.

Then Cho sprang into action. "Let's go."

Rigsby hastily put his jacket on and followed, adjusting his holster.

"I'll come with!" Jane called out, right on Rigsby's trail.

***

"M. Winsfield, CBI! We'd like to ask you a few questions!" Rigsby shouted through the front door for the third time, knocking impatiently.

"Don't bother, he's not here." Cho said, looking around.

"Which is a good thing!" Jane exclaimed, pushing Rigsby out of the way so he could reach the door.

"Why?" Rigsby asked, dumbfounded. He would never understand how that guy worked.

But it all clicked in place when he watched Jane fiddling straightened paperclips in the door lock.

"Because we can make sure that he isn't laying hurt in the house, and not because we can check if he's got anything incriminating." Cho answered ironically.

Jane looked up at him with a lopsided grin, still working on the lock. "Aha!" With a barely audible click it gave way. Jane cautiously pushed the door open and stepped inside, Cho and Rigsby right behind him, their hands poised on their holsters at the ready.

"Hello?"

No answer. Jane doubted the man was hiding somewhere in there, which meant time for snooping had officially begun.

Rigsby went upstairs to secure the place and took time to look for anything interesting, although making sure it looked like nothing had ever been touched. Cho was downstairs with Jane. After quick inventory of the kitchen, he proceeded to the living room. Rigsby came down the stairs to join him.

"Nothing upstairs. Apparently the guy lives alone. One bedroom, another room for clothes, an iron table and a bunch of things he probably didn't know where else to put."

"Anything interesting?" Cho asked.

Rigsby cocked his head to the side. "Not anything more than perfectly ironed shirt. The guy doesn't seem to have any other hobbies then keeping things in order." He sighted. "Where's Jane?"

"In the study next to the living-ro-"

"Who the hell are you?!"

Cho and Rigsby whipped around, guns in hand.

Arthur Winsfield was standing in the entrance with paper bags full of groceries in his arms.

Cho reached for his badge.

"Guys! I found it! We've got him, the miserable bast-"

Jane stopped shouting, taking in the scene in front of him. He'd come out of the study, triumphantly brandishing pieces of paper. He felt his smile diminish when he understood whom it was standing in the entrance. Jane inhaled deeply, opened his mouth, but after a couple tentitatives couldn't find anything more helpful to say than "Oops."

Yey! Jisbon glimpses! I know, it's not much, but there will be lots of it in the next chapter. So while you wait, do review! (I don't do subtlety when it comes to reviews)

You do notice that chapters are getting longer. Other good news, this was the last long interrogation to the Allens you've had to suffer.