AN: Well, here we go. New multi-chapter that I don't have time to write but I really wanted to.

The Problem With Atonement

She hadn't slept in something approaching 48 hours.

It wasn't the first time - it wouldn't be the last. During the final days of Red John's reign, she was fairly certain she had been awake for about a week.

But she'd never passed so many hours of wakefulness for a reason like this.

She was exhausted, but as happy as she'd ever been.

The truth is I love you.

Before now she had only dared to hope at his feelings. Since he came back from South America, she had even started to really suspect what was in his heart, had even dared to call him out on it. That's all you're gonna say?

She doubted she would ever forget the second she knew what the next words out of his mouth were going to be.

I can't imagine waking up knowing I won't see you.

The pause after that sentence had sent her heart into her throat.

I love you.

I love you, Teresa, and it makes me happy to be able to say that to you.

She had been turing those words over in her mind since then. It makes me happy.

Because Jane was not a happy man. True, since he'd strangled Thomas McAllister in a sunny park one day, he had been decidedly different. Lighter, perhaps. But not happy.

Happy men didn't live in Airstream trailers and sleep on couches in the office. They didn't wear the same pair of socks a worrying amount of times.

They didn't continue to wear wedding rings from a marriage that ended abruptly almost fifteen years ago.

Absently, she wondered when the last time someone had held him and meant it, really meant it.

He'd been in her arms a handful of times, but never for more than a few seconds.

When she'd put her hand on his cheek, he'd leaned in to her palm, seemingly unable to help himself.

When he had been gone and she'd been in Washington, she had gone a very long time without someone touching her. Sometimes, it was easy. And, sometimes, it was impossible.

When it had gotten too bad, she'd been able to find a pair of willing arms for the night. She would turn off the lights, squeeze her eyes shut, and do her best to pretend the body above her was someone else.

It had been sad, but better than nothing.

Jane had lived through over a decade of isolation.

She wanted to give it all back to him.

Which explained why she was still awake.

Jane was sprawled on her couch, his head in her lap. He'd been asleep for an hour or so, messy curls soft under her fingers, his weight both thrilling and terrifying.

She couldn't stop touching him.

Earlier, when he had first shifted to lay against her, he'd groaned when she'd run her hands down his back.

"That feels incredible," he'd murmured, eyelashes closing. "For a number of reasons. One of which being I am unused to climbing chain link fences and chasing down planes."

She'd laughed, done it again.

He'd wrapped both his arms around her waist, and she'd breathed in the moment, committing everything to memory.

They hadn't spoken much, both of them content to just be. She studied the lines on his face, the golden stubble, the shadows that were visible even now. He looked peaceful, she finally decided, snuggled into her.

It wasn't a surprise to find he'd fallen asleep.

Still, she was touched. Jane had dozed in her presence probably three hundred times, sometimes very close to her. But never on her.

It made him vulnerable in a whole different manner.

She could feel her own exhausting creeping over her, the urge to sleep becoming irresistible. She held off though, trying to give her heart a little time to adjust.

For nearly fifteen years, she'd dreamed about Jane, fantasized about him while both awake and asleep, had realized she'd given her heart to him far too late to do anything about it.

And now he was hers.

Fully. Without reservations.

At least she hoped so.

Frowning, she shifted, his head lolling against her thighs. In all honesty, she had no idea what he saw their relationship as being. She had simply assumed...

A small, cold tendril of fear brushed over her.

She ran her fingertips across his jawline and watched as he smiled in his sleep.

Feeling slightly better, she did it again, then slowly leaned down and pressed her lips gently to his. She'd meant to do it quickly, but his mouth was warm, soft, and before she could stop herself, she'd taken his bottom lip between hers.

She heard a deep intake of breath, then his hand was on her face, his tongue lazily sliding against hers.

A moan sounded low in her throat, and the pressure of his mouth deepened in response.

When she pulled back, neither of them were breathing right. His eyes were bright, amused. "Well, that's easily my new favorite way of being woken up."

She smiled. "And I'd say it's my new favorite way of waking you up, but I have to admit I'm partial to just kicking the couch."

He twined a lock of her hair around his finger. "I bet I can change your mind."

She'd never heard that tone of voice from him before, all sensual promises and heat. Warmth flooded her, different from the soft feeling of happiness she'd been wrapped in earlier.

Strategically, she put another few inches between them. If Jane wanted to seduce her, chances were, he was going to succeed. She just wasn't sure she was ready for that.

He noted her movement, knew what it meant. He smiled, trying to show her he was perfectly harmless, at least for the time being.

Slowly, he brought her knuckles to his mouth, and she felt tears prick her eyes,

This was a dream, it had to be.

Of course, Jane saw the moisture in her eyes, too. Sitting up, he tugged on the hand he still held, pulling her into his arms. She heard his exhalation when she was settled against his chest.

"I've dreamt about holding you like this," he whispered, so quietly she wondered if he'd meant to say it out loud in the first place, echoing her thoughts.

She pressed her face into his neck, overwhelmed. The heat of his skin and the lingering scent of expensive cologne mixed together, and she took several deep breaths in a row.

He stroked her hair, the back of her neck, other arm keeping her close. "It's a lot to take in at once, isn't it?" he murmured.

She nodded, still unable to speak.

Jane pressed closer. "How about we just stay like this until we get used to it, hmm?"

Her lips curved against his skin. "One of your better ideas, I think."

He chuckled. "Just wait until I tell you my plans for sleeping arrangements."

In the end, his plan didn't matter. They both fell asleep on the couch, limbs wrapped around each other.

She woke just after dawn, muscles a little stiff, head still fuzzy. She'd been dreaming about Jane - it wasn't the first time and she doubted it would be the last. It had been particularly realistic, too.

Her living room was a little chilly, and she cursed herself for passing out on the couch. Dimly, mind still catching up, she wondered where her phone was. Marcus was probably concerned that she hadn't called...

There was a clattering in the kitchen, like someone was searching through cupboards and she sat up. Jane's jacket fell to the floor from where it had been tucked around her like a blanket.

For just a heartbeat, she stared, uncomprehending.

Then it all rushed back. Jane, the plane, being kissed in a TSA interrogation room, the horrible phone call to Marcus, being kissed in this very living room, Jane's arms around her.

She ran her hands through her hair, smiling stupidly.

The scent of coffee reached her about three seconds before she made it to the kitchen. She took a moment to simply look at what was waiting for her, one hand resting against the doorframe.

Jane was standing in front of the stove, shirtsleeves rolled up, hair a wild mess, stubble glinting gold in the morning light, a dishtowel thrown over one shoulder. He was barefoot.

To her, he had never looked more beautiful.

She crossed the floor, the tiles cold under her own bare feet. Jane turned just before she reached him, opening his arms, and she stepped gratefully into his embrace.

"I've been unpacking your kitchen a little," he said to her hair. "Sorry if I woke you. I was trying to find something that would pass for breakfast."

She pressed a kiss over his heart. It was true - her house was covered with boxes. But she would never be happier to unpack. "Any luck?" she wondered.

He sighed. "Of course not. Which means you need to go change your clothes so we can go out."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, do I?"

"Yes," he said shortly. "Get moving. I'm starving, woman."

He stole a kiss as she turned to leave, handing her a cup of coffee.

"Teresa," he called after her, and she paused, waiting.

His smile was blinding. "I love you."

Her heart felt like it was going to burst. "I love you, too."

The look in his eyes was extraordinary, and she stared as he walked over to her, taking her still-full mug and setting it carefully on the counter before resting his hands on either side of her face and kissing her until she was shaking and breathless.

When he pulled back, she found she was gripping his shirt with all of her might, as though she would fall if she didn't have something concrete to hold on to.

Grinning broadly again, Jane dropped a small kiss on the tip of her nose before handing her the coffee cup back.

"Sorry for the distraction," he quipped. "Continue on your way."

Her fingers were still trembling as she found fresh clothes. Her first sip of coffee burnt her tongue, but it hardly seemed to matter.

The mirror in the bathroom told her she was very pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, despite the dark circles that still lingered. She smiled helplessly at her reflection, then quickly ran a brush through her hair. Since they were likely headed to the office after breakfast, she applied her makeup, managing to avoid jabbing herself with the eyeliner.

Jane was waiting when she re-entered the living room, jacket slung over one arm. He held the other one out to her. "Ready?"

She worked on behaving normally while eating her omelette and hash-browns. It was alarmingly difficult, especially since Jane had stretched his legs out under the table, resting them against hers.

It could have been her imagination, but she thought she felt a great deal of eyes on her when she entered the FBI forty minutes later, Jane close to her side.

She figured it was all Jane's fault. After all, no one really knew who she was - Patrick Jane was the golden boy, the one the FBI had gone to such lengths to get. Besides, his exploits were already legendary in Texas. The story of his sprint down a runway had no doubt made the rounds already, and now people wanted to know who it was that had caused such a reaction.

She found she rather preferred anonymity.

Still, she had to hide a smile when she caught a distinctly envious stare from a female agent who worked a few floors above them.

Wylie had hugged her when he'd caught sight of her. "I'm glad you're staying here," the younger man had said, grinning. "We have the best unit in the entire FBI."

She'd smiled back. "You're damn right we do."

The morning was quiet. She unpacked her desk, Jane gave a statement about their last case and brought her fresh coffee.

Around noon, Fischer sought her out, looking a little unsure.

"Lisbon," she said, half-chewing on her lip. "Do you have a second?"

"Sure," Lisbon replied, standing.

Fischer was silent as they made their way outside, strolling slowly around the perimeter of the building. She was clearly nervous about something and trying to work up her courage.

Eventually, she took a deep breath. "I'm transferring," she said. "I'm taking the position you passed on in DC."

Lisbon stared.

"I know it's sudden, but it's really a great job, something I truly want, and I'm from Virginia, so DC's a hell of a lot closer than Texas and-" She broke off abruptly, waiting for a reaction.

Lisbon hugged her. "Good for you," she said, and she meant it. "I'll miss you," she added.

Kim looked relieved. "I just didn't know how you'd feel about the whole thing. I mean, after all, it was supposed to be your job."

Slowly, she shook her head. "Nah," she said quietly. "I'm supposed to be here."

The other woman smiled. "Maybe you're right. These are your people, aren't they? Jane and Cho? Wylie, too, I think."

Lisbon nodded. "They're my people." It was true, and she felt a sense of rightness. Yes, she needed to be here.

After lunch, Abbott called her into his office. She met Jane's eyes as she walked across the bullpen, silently asking if he knew what this was about. He shook his head, eyebrows furrowed.

"Have a seat, Agent Lisbon," Abbott said, waving a hand at the chairs in front of his desk.

Trying to not let her confusion (or nerves) show, she folded her hands in her lap and tried to look competent, her standard operating procedure when dealing with a superior.

Abbott steepled his fingers, and fixed her with a steady gaze. "Kim told me she spoke to you earlier about her decision to transfer."

Lisbon nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm personally sorry she's going, but happy for her professionally."

"I second your sentiments, Lisbon." There was a pause. "However, now I'm short an agent in charge of this unit. I'd like you to fill the vacancy."

For the second time that day, she was dumbstruck. "Sir," she began, searching for words, "it should go to Cho. He has seniority."

"He does," Abbott agreed easily. "You, however, have a large amount of leadership experience. You ran the Serious Crimes Unit of the CBI that was responsible for uncovering one of the largest criminal conspiracies in the history of this country. You had one of the highest case closed rates in the state."

"Because of Jane," she broke in, unable to help herself.

"It wasn't all Jane," Abbott corrected. "He certainly played a part, but he wouldn't get far without you and the agents under you."

"I appreciate that, sir," she replied, "but the position still should go to Cho. He'll make a great leader."

Abbott smiled unexpectedly. "I'm sure," he said. "He learned those skills from you. And besides, when we talked about it earlier, he told me in no uncertain terms that he wasn't taking the job."

"What?"

There was a mixture of amusement and affection behind Abbott's next words. "He said he didn't want the paperwork that came from being responsible for Jane. He also said you were the only one Jane would listen to. I've found that to be true, and I imagine doubly so now."

"Sir," she said again, but then stopped, unsure of what to say.

"You're an excellent agent, Lisbon. The job is yours, if you want it. It comes with better pay and an office." He smiled a little. "I took a great deal away from you back in California. Let me give it back."

When she left, she was grinning from ear to ear.

She could feel Jane looking at her questioningly, but he could wait. Instead, she scanned the room, looking for Cho. He was headed back to his desk, a file in hand.

She hugged him fiercely tight for just a second. "You're an idiot," she whispered. "That job should have been yours."

Cho patted her back. "Don't know what you're talking about, boss."

Her heart swelled. "Thank you," she told him, stepping away, and Cho graced her with a rare smile. Like always, it transformed his face.

"Celebratory drinks tonight," she went on. "For all of us, okay?"

"Deal," the other man replied.

She felt a little strange when she walked back to her desk. Well, her desk for the next few days. Stupidly, she realized she had to pack her stuff back up.

She'd miss Jane being right behind her, but she had a suspicion there would be a couch in her new office before too long. Probably before the first day was over, actually.

She sat, swiveled in her chair to look at Jane.

"Well?" he asked expectantly. "What was that about?"

Still in disbelief, she recounted what had transpired. Jane was grinning proudly by the end. "I'm happy for you," he told her, and she knew he meant it. "You're supposed to be in charge. I know you've told me it's easier this way, but I also know you miss it more than you'll admit."

She absently damned the man for being correct, but she was too happy to get worked up. "I told Cho we're all going out tonight for drinks."

Jane's smile took on a different cast. "Going to get me liquored up and take advantage, Agent Lisbon?"

Her cheeks heated, but she looked primly back at him. "Only if you ask nicely."

Then, before the conversation could get more dangerous, she turned back to her work.

At six thirty that night, she ordered her first beer, wondering about the twists life had been throwing her these past few months.

It was a warm night; the resident FBI agents had all gathered on the back patio of the bar, the moon already bright in the vast Texas sky.

Cho and Fischer were there, this turning into a bit of an impromptu goodbye party for her. Wylie had a mixed drink in hand, and even Abbott was present. Jane was at her side, would be coming home with her tonight, and she was visited by the idea that all was right with the world.

It was about then that the report of a gun rent the peaceful air.

Instinctively, she ducked, one hand going to her hip, the other pulling Jane down next to her. There was the sound of breaking glass and people screaming. And, much closer, frantic yelling.

She scanned the area, noting the shot had come from above them, then stared in horror.

Cho was lying across Fischer, face deathly pale.

His shirt was stained a bloody red.

And even as she watched, his eyes closed.

She screamed.