Disclaimer: These characters are mine only in the sense that I love them.

Author's Note: Winding down from my Thanksgiving day, I was delighted to find my TV showing The Mentalist. Consider this the fic equivalent of pumpkin pie. :)

Jane lay on his comfortable couch, savoring the satisfaction of another case closed. There was nothing more gratifying than outwitting criminals, especially when the criminal in question was a doctor who'd killed a bright young girl out of greed. They were all frauds in white coats, anyway. And people accused him of operating by guesswork.

His satisfaction was marred, however, by the sense that Lisbon was more than usually unhappy with him. As they'd stood over the unfortunately single occupant coffin, he'd been too wrapped up in his own shock at being wrong to fully process her recrimination, but now it nagged at him.

"You promised me," she'd said. Just like Angela had so many times. The difference was, Lisbon would never show him her hurt.

Though hurt probably was a minor component of her unhappiness. Had her faith in him been shaken? That was worse, from his perspective. He needed her trust. He depended on it. And someday, when he found Red John, her trust might make the difference between his success or failure.

His encounter with Judge Fitzwilliams further unsettled him. She had lost a daughter, after all. He knew what that felt like. She might be an entitled tyrant who thought she should receive unquestioning obedience from everyone around her, but she was also a grieving parent. So he truly meant the apology he called after her.

He'd already apologized to Hightower during the case, and he'd just removed the threat to her career, so he didn't consider another one in order. A kiss on the cheek served both to express contrition for her anxiety and to throw her off balance, which he always enjoyed.

He liked Hightower. He did. She wasn't a manipulator on his level, of course, but he respected her for being a shrewd political operator. The problem was, he didn't allow anyone to manipulate Lisbon. That was a privilege he reserved for himself. She was the closest thing he had to family left on this earth, and he soothed his guilt for using her to accomplish his ends by shielding her from other users. So his liking for Hightower would always be tempered by his resolve to keep her from using Lisbon to attempt to direct his behavior.

Strolling away from Hightower, he saw that Lisbon had left for the night while he mused over the day on his couch. She usually said goodnight before leaving, so she was probably still upset with him.

Well, he could fix that. Maybe then he'd be able to sleep.

mmm

He frequently brought Lisbon peace offerings, but rarely to her home, so he was a little unsure what to expect as he waited for a response to his knock. He'd dismissed the idea that she might have had a date, but she could have gone to bed early. Though he wouldn't object to a sleep rumpled Lisbon, the grumpiness that would entail would make his objective much harder.

When she opened the door, she was still wearing her jeans and blouse from earlier, though. "Jane? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He wouldn't be insulted by her assumption that he was the harbinger of bad news. That would be unhelpful, and he couldn't really blame her. "I come with an olive branch. Groveling is also available by request." He held up the six pack of beer and grocery bag holding her favorite ice cream.

She eyed them warily, as if she thought snakes might be involved. "Did you get me fired?"

"No." Okay, that was insulting. As if he would ever allow that to happen.

"Did you get me suspended?"

"No."

"Did you get Hightower suspended?"

"Is that even possible? No. Hightower is as happy as she ever is, everyone is still employed, and Judge Fitzwilliams is willing to live and let live."

Lisbon folded her arms, scrutinizing him in a vain attempt to discern whether he was lying. "Was hypnotism involved?"

"For once, no. I apologized." Which was true, though she wouldn't have approved of the form.

"Really."

"Really. If you're going to continue interrogating me, can we at least sit down? It's been a long day."

Lisbon stepped back and let him in, closing the door behind him and then taking the beer. "Do you want one of these, or would you rather have tea?"

"You have tea?" He tried to convert his delight into skepticism but didn't entirely succeed. Lisbon's blush added to his pleasure.

"I think so, somewhere," she lied, turning quickly to go into her tiny kitchen.

Jane roamed the living room, noting that she'd unpacked a couple more boxes since the last time he'd been here. There was a book facedown on the couch, which answered the question of what she'd been doing. He flipped it over to look at the title: Tightrope: Management Techniques for Challenging Employees.

Lisbon found him as he was smirking at the blurbs on the back of the dust jacket. "So, Lisbon, you've finally decided to tackle the elephant in the office: the frustrated genius that is Rigsby."

"I'd rather have a frustrated genius than a frustrating one," she retorted.

"You think I'm a genius? I'm flattered."

"No," she lied. "But you think you're a genius, so I have to cater to your delusions."

"That's a fine way to talk to someone who brought you your favorite ice cream."

"Which you owe me for making me spend part of the night stuck under a coffin," she retorted.

"Crime fighting is hard. Suck it up."

A grin escaped her. He was pleased to see her enjoy their banter as much as he did.

"Says the man who spends most of his time at work napping on the couch."

"When I'm not interrupting funerals or setting off perimeter alarms," he pointed out.

Lisbon scowled at him. "Maybe I should chain you to that couch. It might keep you out of trouble."

"We'd catch fewer bad guys that way, you realize."

"But there'd be so much less complaint paperwork. It might be worth it."

"You can try it if you like," he shrugged. He could pick the lock or persuade one of his colleagues to free him, of course.

"Yeah right. Like that wouldn't get me fired." She rolled her eyes at him.

"I think Hightower might choose to overlook it for at least a day," Jane chuckled. "Do you have bowls for the ice cream or shall we just eat it out of the container?"

The kettle began to whistle, and Jane realized that she truly was prepared for him to visit. Maybe he should drop by more often.

"I'll bring some spoons," she called over her shoulder as she went back to the kitchen.

A few minutes later they were comfortably settled on the couch passing the pint of ice cream back and forth while his tea cooled next to her slowly warming beer on a TV tray. There was a boring football game on that Lisbon was watching with increasing disgust, to his amusement. Since by now it was past midnight, he assumed it was a replay. "Why don't you just skip to the end?" he suggested.

"Because it's how they get there that matters." She took a swig of beer, then added, "See, this is what you don't get about our work. It's not just about closing the case. It's how we close it that matters. Arresting the bad guy doesn't mean much if he can't be convicted because of your antics."

"Meh. That's the DA's job, not mine."

"Wrong. We're all part of the same team." She snatched the pint from him and took a spoonful.

"You're part of the same team. I'm a consultant."

"You're saying you'd approach things differently if you were a full time employee?"

"Undoubtedly. Because that assumes I would pass the training to become an agent, and to do that I'd have to submit to the brainwashing." He reached out his hand for the pint, and she took another hasty spoonful before handing it to him.

After she swallowed, she said, "I'm not brainwashed. At least, not by the CBI."

"Ah." Jane glanced at her as he put his spoon in his mouth and savored the ice cream. "I take it that means you're concerned you may be unduly influenced by me. How did Minelli put it? That you've drunk the Kool-Aid?"

"I trusted you when I shouldn't have," she grumbled.

He gave her back the ice cream. "Not so. You had every reason to believe I was right. Statistically, it was a safe bet."

Lisbon shot him a sour look. "Except that it wasn't. You were wrong."

"Temporarily wrong. I was right in the end."

"After you disrupted a woman's funeral, humiliating us and subjecting a grieving family to unnecessary distress. That was cruel, Jane." This was, he realized, why she was so upset with him. "If you'd been right, it would have been even more cruel. Did you think about that?"

"No," he admitted. He'd been focused on solving the case and finding Abby, not on her family's grief. "No, I didn't. But what would you have me do, Lisbon? They were having a graveside service. Unless you wanted to wait until they put the coffin in the ground, we were going to have to interrupt at some point."

"We could have done it more discreetly. But no, you had to put on a show."

That was undeniably true. It was his great weakness, this need for admiration and applause. It had gotten his family killed, and now it had angered Lisbon, not for the first time. "It's what I do, Lisbon."

"I know that." Her flash of anger cooked into weariness. "Which is why it was my fault. Hightower was right. I should have used my own judgment instead of relying on yours."

"You did. Your judgment was to let me do what I needed to do, which generally is the fastest way to solve a case."

"Except this time it wasn't."

"Bad luck, that's all. And we did solve the case." Jane reached for the pint and was disappointed to find it empty. He set it down and reached for his tea instead. "Even I'm bound to be wrong once in a great while, Lisbon. I'm sorry, but I really am only human."

"I'm glad you realize that," she said dryly.

"I know why you're really grumpy," he announced.

Lisbon rolled her eyes at him again. "Oh? Because it couldn't possibly be about you behaving like an ass and nearly getting me fired. Again."

"You're upset because you think I broke a promise to you."

"You did," she retorted.

"I didn't. The killer did try to put Abby in the coffin, and we caught him."

"Just admit it, Jane. You promised something you couldn't deliver." She aimed her best glare at him.

"Fine." He needed her to move past this. "I promised, and I was wrong. I apologize. Again."

"Apology accepted," she said after a moment.

"And," Jane added, "I will be more careful what I promise you in the future. Because I will never willingly break a promise to you, Lisbon. I need you to know that." He held her gaze steadily, hoping she could see his sincerity.

She returned his look with her wide honest eyes. "Okay," she said after a moment. Then she turned back to the game. "But next time you want to disrupt a funeral, the answer is still no."

"Fair enough." Jane finished his tea, set the mug on the tray, and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

Lisbon jumped a little, turning a look of astonishment on him. One hand went to her cheek reflexively, making him smile.

"I'll get out of your hair now. It's late; you should get some sleep." He saw her relax as she realized he didn't expect her to react to the kiss.

"You should too. Not in the attic, either."

"No, I won't go back to the CBI tonight." She'd sleep better knowing that, he hoped. "No need to see me out."

She got up anyway, following him as he set his mug and spoon in the kitchen sink, then made his way to the front door. He smiled at her as he opened it. "Thanks. For everything."

"Thanks for the ice cream," she replied. "Good night, Jane."

"Sweet dreams, Lisbon."

He headed for his car, waving to her as he got in. She didn't close it until he started the engine, watching to make sure he was safe. She was such a worrier, he thought fondly. Really, a little ice cream and conversation were a small price to pay to set her mind at rest.

And from now on, he would only make her promises he was sure he could keep. Lisbon's trust was precious to him, and he would protect it.

That was a promise to himself.