A/N: Alright, well, this is really an episode tag for 4x01, but it is also a snapshot of a moment with jisbon so I'm posting it here :) At the very end of the ep. Jane and Lisbon get into the car together, this is a little peek into their heads during that moment, it's short and bittersweet. Hope you enjoy!

"I'm getting weary waiting for the harbor lights to change.

I've forgotten what I do it for, but I tread water just the same.

Never let this pair of hands forget to pull their weight.

This burden may be more than I want to bear

But still it's less than I can take."

He walks out the doors, into the open air, a free man, judged and decreed innocent. He breathes in and looks around, feels like maybe he should be seeing things differently, but no, there is no new light shed on his surroundings, no renewed appreciation for freedom. Everything looks the same, smells the same. The same wind in his hair, the same sun on his skin, the same green eyes watching him.

She lounges in a chair across the street, waiting for him - always waiting. Their eyes meet and his wave beckons forth her crooked smile. She pushes to her feet, stepping forward to meet him as he crosses the street, her eyes sparkling with relief. They stand together, each with one hand curled around a door handle.

And for one brief and fleeting moment, a man - just a man - stands on a street in front of a courthouse with a woman - just a woman - only the width of a car between them. He is free and she has been waiting. There are no demons left to fight; they are simple and blissfully ordinary. A man and a woman smile at each other, walls crumbled and barriers fallen- the air between them open and light.

A fracture of reality splinters the moment and his smile, bringing with it a wave of actuality and truth. It crashes down, sweeping away the man and the woman, the peace and openness. It leaves behind two individuals with walls and barriers newly forged. His smile, now only the ghost of an impression around his lips. Hers, fading along with the light in his eyes. His head tips down, severing the connection, and she blinks long and slow.

Two pairs of hands pull on opposite door handles, they sit in silence for a moment, each mourning the loss of that man and that woman. They grieve for the memory of that simplicity, but push it aside, shrugging into their battle-worn armor, it settles onto their shoulders along with the knowledge that the war still rages on. They have succeeded in winning one small fight, but the true battles are yet to come.

He breathes out, and she breathes in, and they sacrifice who they could be for who they are.