Disclaimer: Not mine. Never was. Never will be. Sad.

xxxx

"Are you in love with Jane?"

It's Grace who's posed the question, her expression serious. They are staying late at the CBI to do paperwork and they're alone in the bullpen.

Lisbon can only stare at the younger agent. She's too astonished to be angry. "N-no," she sputters.

In love? With Jane? The idea is ridiculous but also not. Odd.

"Are you sure?" Grace does not appear confrontational or even particularly intense. She seems merely curious, as though she's inquiring about the weather or what Lisbon would like for dinner.

"Very," Lisbon says firmly. "Why would I be in love with him? He's Jane."

"Exactly," Grace smiles. She studies Lisbon a moment longer and returns to her work.

Lisbon slams down her pen. "Jane is a pain in the ass. Not to mention he's completely, 100% emotionally unavailable."

Grace shrugs. "Not to you," she says. "I'm going to get some coffee. Want some?"

Lisbon can only nod, silent.

"What's going on between you and Jane?"

This time it's Hightower, facing her down with a rather mean stare. Lisbon blinks at her.

"Um, nothing," she spits out. "N-nothing's going on."

Hightower gives her a long look.

"Really," Lisbon insists. "We don't…we're not…" She shakes her head in frustration. "Besides, there are rules," she says, glad to cite something she actually understands.

"Rules don't matter to Jane," Hightower says levelly. She's not one to back down.

"They do when they might get him kicked off the team." Lisbon and Jane have never discussed this but she knows it's true. "We're his only hope of catching Red John. And Jane lives for revenge."

"So there's nothing between you. Not even a hint of something," Hightower says severely.

"Right." The word falls from her mouth without a second thought. Like habit. But as she leaves Hightower's office, she can't help but wonder why it felt a little bit like a lie.

"So, do you and that Jane guy have a thing going on or something?"

Now it's her brother Brian. He's in Sacramento for work and they're having one of their rare visits.

Teresa nearly spits out her iced tea.

"Wh-what?" she stammers. "What gave you that idea?"

"Um, you put up with him. And have you not noticed how he looks at you?"

Teresa just looks at him. He rolls his eyes.

"Come on, Tessa. You're smarter than that." He sounds exasperated, the way he used to when he'd try to teach her a card trick or a new wrestling move—weary and all-knowing.

"There's nothing!" she insists. "There are rules—at the CBI—and he's still in love with his dead wife and he's way too difficult and unpredictable and…"

"And the only reason I haven't heard you give is that you're not interested," he interrupts.

"I'm not!" She frowns and his disbelieving look. "I'm not!"

He grins, patting her hand. "You keep telling yourself that, sis," he says. "Maybe you'll believe it someday."

"Do you love him?"

The suspect—well, killer, it turns out—growls the question, holding a knife against her throat.

"What?" she asks hoarsely, stalling for time. She's tied to a pillar, bloody and bruised and half naked. She knows her team is looking for her and time is of the essence, so to speak."Your consultant, the charming Mr. Patrick Jane," Emmerson, the killer, says. "Do you love him?"

"I…I…"

She should say no. The word springs to her mind, even if it is just out of habit. She doesn't love him, no sir. But she can't say it. It catches in her throat, refusing to be said. Why does he want to know, anyway?

"Well?" Emmerson asks. The knife is right against her neck. One little flick of the wrist and she'll be bleeding out through the jugular.

"I…um…He's an asset to my team," she offers, still stalling.

Why the hell can't she just say no?

"Uh-huh. Let me repeat the question, Agent. Do you love him?"

She doesn't have to answer—she doesn't get a chance. The doors fly open and shots are fired. Emmerson collapses. It's only after he is bleeding on the ground, his knife beside him, that she realizes it's her team.

Why couldn't she just say no?

The question tugs at her mind as they untie her and she collapses into Rigsby's arms.

"Easy, boss," he says. "I've got you…No, no, don't try to stand up…There…" He carries her easily outside and to a waiting ambulance. She feels shaky and weak and her entire body hurts. The next thing she knows, she's lying on a gurney, speeding toward the hospital. Grace is hunched beside her, refusing to move as the paramedics rush around.

"You had us a little worried, boss," she says, taking Lisbon's hand. Involuntarily, Lisbon squeezes.

"He asked if I love Jane," she blurts out. She feels faraway, distant. Maybe it's the pain medication they're already pumping her with.

Grace simply looks at her, waiting.

"I couldn't answer…I couldn't say no."

Grace squeezes her hand, giving her a knowing look. "I know," she says. "I know you couldn't."

"You love him."

Rigsby doesn't even pose it as a question—he's simply stating it as they speed toward an abandoned storage unit on the outskirts of the city. Cho is with their backup in the other car.

They're racing to catch Red John, who is holding Grace hostage. Jane is long gone, probably at the scene already doing God knows what.

"Excuse me?" Lisbon says, making a sharp right turn.

"You love Jane," Rigsby clarifies.

"This isn't really the time to discuss it, Rigsby."

"There's never a good time. And you didn't deny it."

She shrugs, keeping her eyes on the road. "Does it matter? He's probably going to commit murder today. I can't live with that and he knows it."

"Well," Rigsby says, grunting slightly as Lisbon turns again, so sharply the vehicle nearly tips to one side. "Maybe that'll change his mind."

"Not likely. Now focus on the job, Rigsby and not my personal life."

Rigsby sighs. "Fine. But Lisbon…Don't…don't close any doors without being sure about what's inside."

She doesn't respond, but she nods slightly, letting him know she's heard what he's said.

"How sweet, Teresa. You love him."

Red John's voice is smooth and silky but ice cold, like a serial killer's should be. Lisbon grips her gun tighter, aiming it at him.

And, as has become the usual, she can't formulate an answer. Red John laughs mockingly.

"You're trying to stop him because you love him." He gestures to Grace, who is bound in the corner, badly bruised with several deep gashes across her half-naked body. "I plan to let her go," he says. "I have no more use for her. She was a ploy to get you all here. I did have fun though."

Jane's hand twitches as he shifts his weapon, pilfered from Rigsby's desk.

"Jane," Lisbon says raggedly. If he does it now, like this, it will be murder. Red John is unarmed; he poses no threat. Shooting to kill is unnecessary. In the doorway, Cho and Rigsby are silent. The backup team is outside waiting.

Killing Red John now is not acceptable.

"Lovely," Red John mocks. "She doesn't want you to do it, Patrick. She doesn't want you to have your revenge."

Jane glances around nervously but he doesn't lower his gun.

"I'm going to sit in jail, Patrick," Red John sing-songs. "I'll sit in my cell and think about the people I've killed, the bodies I've mutilated. Like your beautiful wife and daughter." He laughs coldly. "Unless you kill me of course. Like you've dreamed about."

It is a game. A sick and horrible game. It's what the bastard's wanted all along.

Jane's gaze is steely and focused. He's taking aim.

"Jane!" Lisbon cries. She know she sounds desperate but she doesn't care. "Jane…please…"

Jane looks at her and she can see the fear in his expression.

"Put the gun down, Jane," she begs. "Please."

"Put the gun down, Jane," Red John echoes in a high, mocking tone. "Please?"

Lisbon ignores him. "Jane," she says levelly.

Slowly, switches on the safety and puts the gun on the ground before backing silently away to stand against the wall.

"Fool," Red John says, shaking with laughter. "You are a first rate fool." He turns as though to run but Lisbon is too quick. She takes aim and shoots him in the leg. He stumbles and she pounces, cuffing him.

The backup team is rushing in now so she lets one of them take over and rushes toward Grace, Rigsby and Cho at her heels. Only Jane is unmoving.

"Grace…Grace!" Lisbon calls desperately as they struggle to untie her. "Grace, hey!"

"I'm okay," Grace mumbles.

Cho shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around her. "An ambulance is on its way," he says. "Just hang in there, Grace."

Grace nods slightly, wincing in pain. It almost makes Lisbon ill to look at her; she's covered in dark, angry bruises and deep cuts. Her long red hair has been chopped so it falls unevenly around her shoulders.

"Grace," Lisbon says, trying to sound a lot calmer than she feels. "Try and stay with us, okay?"

"Mmm. Lisbon?"

"Yeah?" Lisbon has to lean close to hear her weak voice.

"About Jane…" Grace licks her dry lips. "You should tell him," she murmurs before going limp and passing out. As Cho and Rigsby try to shake her awake, her words play over and over again in Lisbon's head.

You should tell him. You should tell him. You should tell him…

"You really do love him, don't you?"

Lisbon straightens up in her chair to look at Cho. He's striding into Grace's hospital room, coffee in hand. He hands the cup to Lisbon, who sips it gratefully before setting it on the nightstand.

"Thanks," she says.

He nods briefly. "You love him," he repeats. "Jane."

"It doesn't matter," she says flatly. This is neither a denial nor a confirmation. But Cho knows what she means.

"I think it does," he offers. "It matters a lot. We might not have caught Red John if you didn't. Or Jane might be in jail right now…or worse."

"Maybe," she agrees.

He pauses, looking at the unconscious Grace.

"Will she be okay?" he asks.

"Yeah. The doctor was in a little bit ago. Says she just needs rest." Feeling oddly maternal, Lisbon brushes Grace's now-short hair off her face and straightens the sheets. "Has anyone heard from Jane?" she asks.

"Nope. Not since he took off at the scene." Cho crosses his arms. "You should go home and get some rest, boss."

Lisbon shakes her head. "I don't want to leave her alone. And we both know Hightower won't hear of Rigsby staying the night."

Cho chuckles. "True," he says. "Boss? Grace is right, you know. You should tell him." With that, he squeezes her shoulder, kisses Grace's pale forehead and slips from the room.

"You…you…do love him."

Lisbon jumps at the sound of Grace's weak, whispery voice.

"Hey!" she says, ignoring her observation. "How are you feeling?"

Grace pauses, swallowing. "A little sore," she rasps. "But okay."

"Do you want to sit up? Here." Lisbon adjusts the bed so Grace is in a sitting position. "Are you thirsty?"

"A little."

Lisbon quickly grabs a pitcher and cup from the nightstand and pours some water. "Here you go," she says, helping Grace to sip some.

"Thanks."

Lisbon takes her hand. "God, Grace," she says. "I'm so sorry. He took you right out from under my nose…"

Grace waves her off. "It wasn't your fault. And I'm fine."

"I'm still sorry," Lisbon says, tucking some hair over Grace's shoulder.

"That'll take some getting used to," the younger agent comments, referring to the hair's shortness.

"We'll get it fixed up," Lisbon assures her. "My neighbor's a hair stylist. She can help you out."

"Thanks." Grace pauses. "So, about Jane…"

"Does it matter?"

"It definitely does." Grace squeezes her hand. "Don't sell yourself so short, Lisbon." She looks like she wants to say more but they are interrupted by Jane himself striding in, a large bouquet of flowers in his arms.

"Hey, ladies," he says cheerily, setting the flowers on the windowsill before bending to give Grace a peck on the cheek. "How're feeling?" he asks her.

"Much better. I'm fine, Jane." She smiles at him reassuringly.

"Where have you been?" Lisbon asks him. He shrugs.

"Around. I talked to Hightower." He grins, looking like his usual self. "She likes me. Says I solve cases and she wants me to stay on."

"And?" Grace asks.

"I'm staying," he confirms. "I'd never give up my couch! Besides, you guys need me." He beams proudly. "Anyway, I've gotta run. I'm going apartment shopping. See you later!"

"Jane!" Grace calls out, stopping him.

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't you do it?" she asks. "Shoot Red John?"

He shoves his hands in his pocket, looking nonchalant. "Because Lisbon didn't want me to," he says. "Anyway, see you later. Lisbon, go home and rest, you look like hell."

Then he's gone, disappearing out the door. Grace fixes Lisbon with a meaningful stare.

"Still think it doesn't matter?" she asks.

"Are you in love with Patrick?"

Lisbon blinks at Jane's new girlfriend, Lynn, her hopes of never hearing that question again dashed.

"Excuse me?" she asks.

Lynn crosses her arms. They're out for pizza with the team and she's cornered Lisbon by the jukebox. "I asked if you're in love with Patrick. Because it seems like you are," she accuses.

"We work together," Lisbon responds. She can't ever seem to deny it anymore. The words always die on her lips.

"Not answering the question," Lynn presses.

Lisbon tries to step around her. "He's really not my type," she says firmly. "Trust me, Lynn, he's all yours."

Lynn sighs, sounding exasperated, and steps aside. Lisbon slips past her, grateful to escape.

"What was that all about?" Grace asks, moving to her side.

"She asked me if I was in love with Jane."

Grace winces. "Lisbon…Why don't you do something?"

Lisbon looks back to the jukebox. Jane has joined Lynn and they're laughing as they peruse the selections. She's leaning back into his chest and his arms around her waist. Lisbon might not be right for Jane, but Lynn is. She's laid back, adventurous, unrestrained. She's funny and quirky with an off-beat sense of humor. And she's a widow so, like Jane, she's just a little bit haunted. They fit.

"Lisbon?" Grace prods.

Lisbon crosses her arms. "Because," she says softly, "he's happy."

"You love him."

Rigsby is matter-of-fact. It isn't a question or an accusation. It's just a fact.

"Don't make me answer that," she says.

"It wasn't a question and you know it. Do something, Lisbon."

She shakes her head. "He's got Lynn. And he's going to propose. He showed me the ring." She doesn't mention that while she admired the diamond ring and listened to his proposal plans, she'd been fighting the urge to throw up, that she could hardly breathe the entire time.

His face falls anyway and he pats her small hand with his enormous one.

"I'm sorry, boss," he says. "I'm real sorry."

"Do you have a thing for Patrick?"

Lisbon turns to see Courtney, Lynn's rather abrasive best friend, facing her coldly. They are at Jane and Lynn's engagement brunch, sipping mimosas and trying to be civil.

"Um, no," she manages to say. At least she's managed to say it this time.

Courtney fixes her with a harsh stare. "You mean to tell me you don't have any feelings for him whatsoever. Right."

"He's my friend."

"Uh-huh." Courtney reminds her a little bit of a vulture, circling until you're down for the count and then swooping in to pick, pick, pick at your remains.

"It's true," Lisbon defends. "We're just friends."

Courtney grabs her arm. "I don't really care what you are," she says. "But I've watched Lynnie go through hell and back and now she's finally happy. And you'd better not mess it up."

"I have no intention of messing anything up," Lisbon assures her, scowling. Courtney looks unconvinced but stalks away. A moment later, Jane appears, frowning slightly.

"What was that all about?" he asks.

"Courtney thinking I'm going to steal you away from Lynn," she huffs. "She seems to think I plan on interfering or something."

"Oh," he says. "Well." He reaches out and brushes some hair off her shoulder, his fingers a soft caress. "She just doesn't know you," he offers. "You've got way too much class for that. Standards."

"Right," she mumbles.

His hand lingers on her shoulder. "You're a good woman, Lisbon," he says. "And the best kind of friend."

She forces a smile. "Thanks. Um, you should go back to your party."

"Right. See you." He turns way quickly, but not so fast that she can't see the apologies in his eyes. Later, she catches him watching her from across the room.

The apologies linger.

"Do you love me?"

She has to force herself to look up. It's late and they're alone at the CBI. He stands in the doorway to her office, hands in his pockets.

"Don't make me answer that," she says. He's getting married in two weeks. What she may or may not feel doesn't matter. It never really did.

"Lisbon," he sighs. "Teresa…"

She holds up a hand. "Don't," she chokes out. "Please."

He moves further into her office and she gets to her feet, intending to leave.

"Teresa," he tries again.

"Stop!" She tries to step past him but he grabs her arm.

"Do you?" he asks. "Do you love me?"

"Why are you asking me this?" she demands. "You're with Lynn. She makes you happy."

"She does," he agrees. "Happier than I've been since before my family died."

She tries to wrench free of his grasp but he's not letting go.

"You love her," she says.

"I do."

"And she's right for you."

"She is."

She stamps her foot in frustration. "Then why the hell are you doing here, asking me questions I can't answer?"

"Because I want to hear what you have to say."

"But it doesn't matter!" she cries. "What I say doesn't matter. You're marrying Lynn. You love each other; you're right for each other. You fit."

"Yes," he agrees.

"Then stop asking me questions and fucking go be with Lynn, damn it."

He pulls her sharply into a hug, holding her head against his chest. She lets out a few shuddery sobs before pulling away. He catches her by the shoulders, halting her.

"Stop!" she says raggedly, swiping at the tears on her face. "Just stop!"

"I'm sorry, Lisbon," he says, kissing her forehead. "I'm so sorry."

Then he's gone, leaving her alone in the darkened office.

"You love him!"

Lisbon turns to face Grace, who's crossing her arms and wearing a sour expression. They're at Lisbon's apartment, getting ready for Jane and Lynn's wedding. They'll be driving there together since Rigsby and Cho are groomsmen.

"Grace," Lisbon sighs, struggling to fasten a bracelet on her wrist. Grace strides over and grabs her arm.

"You love him but he's marrying someone else," she says, clasping the bracelet.

"Exactly. He's marrying someone else." Lisbon turns to the mirror and evaluates her reflection.

"You look beautiful," Grace offers.

"Thanks. So do you."

Grace studies her sadly. "Why are you doing this?" she asks. "You love him but you've just stood aside."

"It wasn't even a possibility until we got Red John," Lisbon tells her. "And then…Lynn makes him happy. She makes him whole again and it doesn't hurt him to be with her. I can't give him that. And I know she loves him and he loves her. He's happy, Grace. And I'm not going to take it away."

Grace shakes her head. "I'm sorry," she offers gently. "I'm really sorry, Lisbon."

"Yeah," Lisbon sighs. "Me, too."

"Do you love him?"

Lisbon looks exhaustedly at the ICU nurse who's been monitoring a comatose Jane since his car accident eight weeks ago. He was hit by a drunk driver on his way home from a late night at the CBI.

It's been seven years since he married Lynn. They're happy, blissfully so. They have a five year old daughter, Lily, the spitting image of Jane. Lisbon's heart breaks for Lily now as she recalls the pain of losing a parent.

"I'm not his wife," she tells the nurse.

"Oh, I know. But you've been here even more than she has."

"Well, she has a five year old. And I'm his friend…" Lisbon trails off, knowing her argument sounds foolish. "I'm not his mistress if that's what you're thinking."

"I wasn't. I was thinking that you were the woman who loved him with all her heart but let him go."

Lisbon doesn't respond to that. It's more or less the truth.

"Are Lynn and Lily taking a break?" the nurse asks.

Lisbon nods. The nurse touches her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she says simply before slipping from the room. Lisbon takes Jane's limp hand in both of hers and holds it to her face.

"Damn it Jane," she chokes as tears fall down her cheeks. "Goddamn it."

"You really loved him. And you never stopped."

Lisbon lifts her head from where it's been resting on her desk. Cho is standing in front of her, arms crossed.

"Please," she says. "Don't ask me that."

Jane is dead. His body's in the morgue and the funeral is tomorrow and none of it really matters anymore. If it ever did at all.

"Okay," Cho says gently. He walks around the desk and crouches beside her chair. "I am so sorry, Lisbon."

She lets out a dry sob and falls into his arms. He holds her tight, rocking back and forth.

"I'm sorry," he says again and again. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

So is she. She's so damn sorry.

"You were in love with him."

It's Courtney again but she isn't accusing this time. She simply looks sad.

Lisbon doesn't answer.

"You loved him but you didn't take him," Courtney continues, her gaze on Lynn and Lily, standing near the front of the chapel.

Lisbon keeps silent.

"Lynn was right," Courtney says. "You're a good person. Remarkable even." She folds her hands in front of her. "Patrick always did call you 'the best kind of friend.'"

Lisbon speaks now, her voice low and ragged. "I know," she says softly. "That's what he always said."

Courtney touches her arm, her gaze suddenly compassionate. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm really, really sorry."

Lisbon can only nod, watching her walk away.

"I know you loved him."

Lynn's voice is soft and modulated. Utterly non-confrontational. There's not a hint of jealousy in it, no animosity.

The funeral is over and they are alone in front of the grave. Lynn's parents have taken Lily home and the rest of the mourners have departed. It is just them.

"It's okay," Lynn adds. "You were never anything short of amazing."

Lisbon clears her throat. "He loved you," she whispers.

"And you. He loved you, too. Don't doubt that for a second, Teresa."

"Then he didn't love me enough. He loved you more." Lisbon crosses her arms and kicks at a clump of grass.

Lynn smiles sadly. "He chose me," she says. "There's a difference." She steps closer to Lisbon's side. "I have a theory, Teresa, if you want to hear it."

"Sure." Lisbon doesn't really care at this point. Jane is gone and so is whatever she and Lynn might've had in common.

"He loved you," Lynn says. "God, he loved you. And he also loved me." She rakes her fingers through her hair, sighing heavily. "Your relationship was so complicated from the start."

"It was," Lisbon agrees.

"He was always so haunted by what happened to his family," Lynn says. "Even after you arrested Red John, it stayed with him. He would always be loyal to his first wife. And I think…" She trails of briefly, closing her eyes. "I think," she resumes, "he couldn't let himself be with someone he loved more than her, or even as much as her."

Lisbon frowns, unsure of what Lynn is getting at. Seeing this, Lynn smiles faintly.

"He loved you at least as much as he loved her," she says. "He loved me, certainly. But not like he loved her—or you."

Lisbon can only stare at her, astonished.

"I think he thought that being with you was a betrayal of his first wife. He was scared to death of hurting you. A little ironic, considering that's what he ended up doing anyway." Lynn shakes her head sadly. "We had a good life together. We have a beautiful daughter and she's my whole world. But he loved you, Teresa. It was always you."

"I'm sorry," Lisbon manages to say. "I…I never meant…"

"I know." Lynn wraps her in a tight hug. "You've done nothing wrong. You were always perfectly gracious. I'm the one who's sorry."

"You?" Lisbon asks.

"Yes. If I'd been a better person I'd have given him up, told him to be with you."

"No," Lisbon says. "You made him happy in a way I couldn't. He loved you and you were right for each other. I'm grateful to you."

Lynn hugs her again. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Me, too."

Lynn steps back, wiping her eyes. "Come visit sometime. Lily will want to see her Aunt Teresa."

"I will," Lisbon promises. "And Lynn? Thank you."

Lynn nods, knowing exactly what she means.

"I loved you."

Lisbon speaks the words aloud in a dry, ragged voice, kneeling in front of Jane's grave.

"I loved you," she repeats. "Damn it, I loved you!"

She loved him. She loved him and she gave him up. She let Lynn have him and now he is dead. He is gone and she feels like the grieving widow.

"Lisbon?"

Her team approaches cautiously and circles around her. Rigsby takes her hand while Grace slips an arm across her shoulders. She fan feel Cho's hand resting on her back.

They are silent for several minutes.

"He loved you a lot," Cho says finally. "He never blamed you for what happened with Red John."

"He was grateful," Grace adds. "And he really, really loved you. Too much, maybe."

"Too much," Lisbon echoes. Rigsby squeezes her hand.

"Did you love him?" he asks gently.

She lets out a soft sob. "Yes," she murmurs. "Yes. I loved him."

And then they are all hugging her, wrapping her in a tight, protective embrace while she cries against Grace's shoulder.

Because she loved him. The answer to years and years of countless questions…

Do you love him?

Do you love Jane?

Are you in love with him?

The answer was yes.

She loved him.