)()()()(

Lisbon kicked off her shoes and collapsed thankfully onto the hard hotel bed, listening to the hum of the traffic outside. It had been a long day, explaining the intricacies of the various murders tied to the case; she couldn't deal with even one more grim-faced, fashion-challenged g-man and his endless questions.

Tossing her jacket over the nightstand and wriggling out of her formal pants, she snuggled into the scratchy bedding wearing only a shell and her trouser socks, burrowing down like a hibernating creature. Which, considering the temperature, felt about right.

When she left Sacramento, it had been fifty degrees and sunny. In DC in was hovering close to zero and had been snowing ever since she arrived.

The buzz of her cell phone from the bedside table had her groaning, and even though she'd sworn she was done for the day, she was reaching for it in the next minute (well, it could be important). When she read the screen she made a face and decided not to answer. He'd call back.

The phone rattled insistantly as she lay back, irritating her just like he would do, if he were here. She had been deliberately not thinking about Jane all day, but just like always, he kept pushing to the forefront of her mind.

It was just that, lately he had seemed so - different. For one thing he was actually smiling, and not his usual mocking smile, lips curling in distain, but a real smile, directed at her. How could she ever refuse him anything, when he looked at her like that?

But loving him would be the second-worst mistake she could make . . . and the worst would be to ever let him know. Jane used weakness, he found all the cracks in a person and exploited them, until they broke apart. He wanted his own way before anything, or anyone, even if having his way left nothing but a pile of rubble at the end.

She was the one who held things together.

She closed her eyes and let out a slow breath, counting to ten. She could do this. She could keep them both in one piece, whether it meant keeping his head down in a shootout or smacking him upside the head herself. And if it meant sleeping with him, she would do that.

Yeah, big sacrifice.

And one day, maybe, when they were old and grey, after everything was over . . .

She turned onto her side and buried her face in the lumpy pillow.

The next thing she was aware of was the sound of the key-card in the door, and she had the sense of light flooding the room from the hallway – and then it closed, and the light was extinguished. Before she could even gather her thoughts enough to panic she had an impression of his general shape, and the noiseless way he moved across the carpet -

"Lisbon?"

No, this wasn't happening. She wasn't here. If she didn't answer, maybe he would just go away.

She heard him come up to the bed, feeling his way in the dim room - she felt his hand, over the blankets, touching her shoulder, the back of her head, then moving down her spine, lingering over the curve of her hip – to her – "Jane!"

"Oh, it is you," said Jane innocently. "I wasn't sure."

Lisbon threw back the blankets, grumbling, and then squeaked in surprise when the cold air hit her. "Oh, it's freezing."

"Ah, that it is." He turned on the bedside lamp and she rubbed her eyes at the sudden light. He dropped his suitcase next to the bed and shrugged out of his coat, which he hung carelessly over a chair.

She watched him move around the room, shedding clothing - that damn three-piece suit. "What are you doing?"

"Well, my dear, I'm plumb worn out," he told her. He was down to his undershirt and pants. "You know, I've been on my feet since 3:00 this morning."

"What?"

"Oh yes. My plane was diverted to Newark. By way of Des Moines." Of course, he had taken the red-eye. "I waited in the airport for sixteen hours." There went the pants. Hmmm. "Finally I just rented a car."

He disappeared into the bathroom with a bag, and in the next minute she heard him brushing his teeth. "Of course, the highways were terrible," he said, the words coming out garbled. She heard him swishing and spitting, then the sound of the faucet. "I'm lucky to have survived."

"Not if I end up killing you now. So - what are you doing here?"

"Did I mention I slept on a bench in the airport?" he asked, when he re-emerged. "It wasn't nearly as comfortable as our couch at home."

Was he referring to the CBI offices as 'home?' That was either sweet or pathetic. "But what are you doing here?"

"I really suffered." He stood next to the bed, shifting on his feet. "Is any of this turning you on?"

"Yeah, travel delays get me hot," she retorted, rolling over to check the clock. "Seriously, Jane, what - ?"

She felt the bed dip under his weight, and then she was snuggled against his cold chest, his arms locking tight across her middle. "Ja -" she started to complain, but was cut off when one of his icy hands snuck up under her shirt. Yikes! Unrepentantly, he twined his sock-covered feet with her bare legs and Lisbon gasped and socked him. "Jerk!"

"Shh," he muttered sleepily against her neck. "Tired now." He nudged his knee between hers and huddled up around her, drawing the blankets over them both, like children playing in a fort.

She felt herself relaxing, although she should really be working up to kicking him in the `nads.

"Bad news," he whispered, into her hair – she shuddered at the feeling of his cold nose next to her ear. "We're going to get stuck here a few days."

"What?"

"There's a travel advisory," he said, sounding suspiciously not at all upset about it. "They're calling for another six feet, the airport's closed. You're not going to make your flight tomorrow."

Lisbon closed her eyes. Great.

"Lisbon," he whispered, nuzzling her cheek with gentle, hungry lips. "I've been thinking about what you said."

"What - "

"Shhh, just . . . just listen, for a minute." He took a breath, barely a flutter of air against her temple. "I want to tell you - I know what I want. You think I don't know, but I do."

"Jane - "

"Ah-ah," he tutted, "let me finish. I just - have to say something." And then he was silent.

She rolled her eyes. "You're such a - "

"Just - don't say anything, no matter what. Okay?"

After a long moment, she nodded, knowing he could feel the movement. "Finally," he muttered, planting soft, sucking kisses down her side of her neck. Teeth, ever-so-gently, biting at her nape. Lisbon closed her eyes. "I love you," he whispered against her skin.

She had to keep perfectly still, with her eyes clenched shut, because she didn't want him to see her cry. "Jane . . . "

"Wait - don't answer," he insisted stubbornly. "I'm not asking, I'm - I'm just telling you - just - let me." She could feel his strong hands, moving over her shoulders, down her arms. "Let me . . " he whispered. "Please."

So she did.

Maybe it wasn't very much to go on. Maybe, despite their best intentions, it would all go bad before the end. But for the first time in a while, Lisbon felt something tingling at the back of her throat -

It might have been - hope.

FIN

A/N: Aw, I'm kind of sorry to see this story end! Thanks so much to everybody who read or reviewed.