Chapter 1: Free At Last!

Austin, Saturday

Sunlight lanced between mini-blind slats, striping the bed dark and light. Sable tresses glinted copper, bronze mane sifted gold.

Lisbon bolted upright. "We're late!" She jounced off the bed frantically seeking her clock.

"Ow-w-w!" His sprained back protested the jolt. "It's Saturday and," needling her for the pain, "we're unemployed."

"Oh." She wilted and sank back onto the bed. She registered the dig and flicked his arm. "Rude, Jane."

He smirked as he carefully stretched, "But true-." He motioned her closer for a good morning kiss.

"Getting up?"

"Think I'll sleep in." He snuggled down under the covers and turned away from the light.

Lisbon dressed and set about packing the last of their meager possessions in their two no-longer-connected apartments. There wasn't much. They hadn't done much other than hunt Blake since she'd moved to Austin.

That killed less than an hour. She took a cold Coke out of the bare refrigerator to stave off caffeine withdrawal and plopped down on the couch. Her deepest wish had been answered when Jane came back. After prying Jane out of detention from under Fischer's bizarre oversight she'd gladly left her nothing job in Cannon River to work with Jane and Cho. Abbott had mopped up the lower Blake Association members in the two years after McAllister's death. It took Jane to flush out the leaders. They'd then worked regular FBI cases under Tork and Pike – Frick and Frack, she thought scornfully – until a week ago when she'd strong-armed Abbott into cutting Jane a new deal. Still have to work six cases a year for Abbott for awhile. But at least we're out of Austin. Jane's free to work and live anywhere he wants. ... Anywhere we want. This was the start of their new life. She restlessly went to the kitchen table and flipped open her PC. She would put things in order, make a plan. Despite assurances to Jane, resigning from the FBI was a big deal – the first time in 25 years she didn't have a job. An income. A plan.

It seemed only an instant before Lisbon was back nudging his arm.

"I'm starving. There's no food or coffee."

He yawned and mumbled, "Wanted to sleep in."

"You did. Ten hours is enough. C'mon."

Fifteen minutes later he exited the shower. He'd barely dried off before Lisbon grabbed the towel. She threw sheets, towels and night clothes into the washing machine while he dressed. He ambled out of the bathroom while still buttoning his shirt. Lisbon had been busy. The bedroom was bare of personal effects, including the Violets print he'd bought after the art theft-murder case. He found Lisbon in the kitchen seated by her glowing laptop, surrounded by maps and printouts.

"What's all this?"

"Worked out an itinerary for our trip to California. Things we want to see, routes, schedule, hotels, et cetera. Gets us there with time enough to settle in before your–"

"–Our–"

"-plane reservations to London."

Jane's eyebrows rose but he passed on commenting. Now craving tea, he handed Lisbon her purse and shepherded her out to eat at a nearby diner. Upon return, the laundry dried while they schlepped their meager possessions to the car. Lisbon brought down her suitcase. Jane carried his suitcase and a box of books to the SUV.

They'd bought the SUV six months earlier after returning from their D.C. meeting with Stiles. Jane had gone to retrieve his Citroen from the impound lot where it was towed when they were suspects. The exotic little sports car would have been roadworthy despite bullet holes from the assassination attempt on Abbott. But inexpert towing ruined the transmission. It was one of the few times Lisbon saw Jane openly angry. After agitated pacing and muttered invective along the lines of 'gorillas,' 'ignorant,' and 'incompetent' he curtly told the lot attendant he'd have it towed later for repairs. Jane arranged for a classic car repair shop to tow and repair it. Lisbon didn't even want to speculate about what that would cost. The SUV was a stopgap. Lisbon would need one when they broke loose from the FBI. Having it would provide time for the Citroen to be repaired and shipped to Sacramento.

Jane put the box in the back. He turned and stepped aside to avoid crashing into Lisbon, using her shoulder to steady himself. She was staring at the box and suits laid across the back seat.

"Sorry," she mumbled, jarred from her reverie.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said too quickly. His expression said disbelief. She tipped her head. "Boxes. Your suits. Like when I left Sacramento."

He ducked his head to peer into her eyes. "We're moving toward something, Teresa. Together."

She took a breath. "We are." If only I felt that way...

The property manager was a welcomed distraction. He checked their apartments with close scrutiny to the repaired connecting wall. Surrendering the keys severed their last formal tie to Austin.

Jane tossed the paperwork into the glove box and winced as he eased into the passenger seat. Lisbon immediately put the itinerary pages within reach on top.

"You gonna be okay in a car all day?" She had to suppress a double-take every time she saw him. Jane wore casual clothes he'd bought after detention. His ranger shorts, gray-on-gray patterned tee and sneakers were infinitely more practical than suits for a road trip in the Southwest. She squelched a smile. Jane would pay two hundred bucks for a t-shirt. Brands I never heard of. And he's hiding the shaved spot. Jane had brushed his hair over the scabbed cut from Keller's attack. Contrary to her initial take years ago, she concluded Jane wasn't vain after he wore ugly 'grandpa' loaner shoes to irk her. But Jane looked good, knew it, cultivated it, counted on it. If she were honest, it was part of his appeal. Phfft. 'Appeal.' Admit it: Gorgeous. Even after all these years- His reply snapped her back to the present.

"If we stop occasionally."

She looked away and focused on driving. He'd tease her all day if he read her thoughts. Soon they were heading south on I-35.

Jane reopened the topic Lisbon had been ducking all week. "You renegotiated my deal with Abbott." I would've paid to see that.

She carefully kept her eyes on the road. Neutrally, "It was time."

"While I was out of the picture?" getting to his real question.

She shrugged casually. "Hey. We got what we wanted."

"No complaints with the deal. Why that moment?"

She sighed, knowing he wouldn't let it go. "The sooner the better. Wanted Abbott to handle it before he left for DC-"

"He could have done it from DC."

Increasingly tense, "Because of the last case. Last several cases."

"What about them?"

She grimaced. We've been over this! "Pike and Tork were a menace to your health."

Mildly, "Meh. Markham was a fluke because you got pulled off monitoring. The art case ended rather well I thought. And this last one – didn't go as planned but it would have worked out."

She pulled over, yanked up the parking brake and jabbed on emergency flashers. Eyes blazing, "'Worked out'?! You were chained and unconscious in a serial killer's truck!" voice rising.

Jane shied away. "Ah, can we talk calmly? –Minimize the hearing loss?"

No less angry, she managed a lower volume. "Dammit, Jane, you refuse to get it! No way life under Frick and Frack ends well. I couldn't manage the situation with those two."

Soothingly, "Of course not, they were the leaders."

Dangerously quiet, "You think a title makes them leaders?"

"I only meant they had the formal authority."

"Tork can barely lead himself. And Pike!" Scornfully, "Mister Cookbook Management. Follow protocol and CYA." She closed her eyes, paused, then turned to face him. Jane smoothed out his smirk from her scorching assessment of Pike. Quietly, "Jane, you are incredibly useful for investigating." He brightened until – "And near impossible in law enforcement. The only people you should work with are us – the team. It took years before we could predict when your schemes would go haywire." She looked away then continued, deadly serious. "You were living on borrowed time. The sooner I fixed that the better."

Jane puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled. "I am delighted to lose the Feebs. But you're just–" he skipped the word 'over,' "–reacting to last Thursday." Hurriedly before she could react, "Keller wanted me alive. I could have manipulat–"

Exasperated, "–Prefer Kevlar to talk when bullets are involved."

Jane's lips twitched. "That's where McKaye went wrong." Hoping to mollify, "Hey. Keller's house is on our way, right?" She nodded stiffly. "Let's stop. I'm curious about someone that fixated on killing psychics. I'll show you how I would have escaped."

She scowled at his certainty, then grudgingly allowed, "We can stop." Getting underway she muttered sarcastically, "'Would have worked out.' Right."

Twenty minutes later they pulled up to a shabby single story ranch like thousands dotting the Texas plains. The only distinctive feature was the basement with stairs to the outside. The house was unguarded. The ME had removed the corpse; Forensics, the other evidence. They ducked under the yellow and black crime scene tape. Jane pulled lock picks from his wallet. Lisbon frowned then reminded herself they had worked the case and were still FBI – technically 'active FBI on hiatus.'

The door opened to a dim interior lit by small, grimy windows. Jane wrinkled his nose at the faint malodor.

"Keller Sr. was desiccated skin over bone, clothed and propped up in that little room with the water heater," she pointed. "The smell is decomposing blood. Keller Jr. dabbed it on the body to 'bind the spirit.'" She looked disgusted.

Jane nodded, looking around. He made a circuit of the room, noticing nails loosely driven into the tabletop from carpentry projects, photos, books, the water heater, a small fridge with bottled water, and chewing gum wrappers in the trash. He flicked the light switches on and off in the main room and the side room that had housed the corpse.

Lisbon eyed the concrete walls and narrow windows set near the ceiling. The metal door had a double lock that required a key to enter or exit. She waited silently, stomach churning as she imagined Jane trapped with the insane killer. When Jane stopped and looked her way she said grimly, "No way you could escape."

"Focus on the man not the setting," Jane said mildly, tapping his lips. "I would have played the psychic angle, kept him talking. I'd get rid of the cuffs and set up an explosion to disable him."

"How?"

Patiently, "Unless I found something easier, I'd pry up a nail to jimmy the handcuffs. The lights work and the gas water heater is lit. Keller had the keys with him since it's a double-keyed lock. Disable him, get the key and run."

"Except you had a concussion. And he'd just let you get loose?"

"Minor concussion – excuses any bobbles in my psychic reading. Get him to leave so I could shuck the cuffs." His eyes sparkled with pleasure at solving the puzzle. "Blow out the pilot light, stick a wad of gum on the bulb in the room with the corpse. What happens when I get him to check on his father's spirit or some such nonsense?"

Slowly, "He'd turn on the light. The bulb would shatter because of the gum."

"Very good. Propane gas plus electric arc and – voila! Explosion. Keller's disabled. I get away."

"Geez, Jane. Out of the frying pan! You'd be in that explosion too!" She shuddered remembering Malibu.

"Hey." Jane draped an arm over her shoulders. "Not saying it's ideal. Just possible."

She look askance. "I vote no kidnapping in the first place."

Jane locked the door and they stepped into the sunlight and clean air. Lisbon's hand stopped him. Intensely, "Promise you'll work only with me. Or the team," the only team that deserved the label – her old CBI unit.

"Lisbon, don't you think–"

"–Promise, Jane."

He rarely made promises. He assessed possibilities, limitations, effects intended or not. He caught her gaze. Deal breaker. He swallowed and chose. "I promise. Unless an emergency makes it impossible."

Her eyes narrowed. "An 'emergency.'"

He exhaled in frustration at being pinned down. "I will do whatever's required if you or anyone I consider family is in danger." He said grudgingly, "Otherwise, yeah, I'll only work if one of you is in the mix."

Lisbon's expression became even more determined, "Holding you to it. And don't think I'll forget."

San Antonio

Lisbon parked at the Alamo historical site after an easy hour-and-a-half drive from Austin. Jane stretched, back stiff from sitting in one position too long. They wandered around the historic Alamo Mission chapel and the Long Barracks museum. Lisbon satisfied her curiosity before Jane. She waited on a bench under a tree rather than rush him, repeatedly reminding herself that this was supposed to be relaxing – a vacation even. He finally appeared and sat beside her.

"Done?"

He nodded. "Always wanted to see this."

"Because?"

He shrugged. "I read about the Alamo in a comic book–"

"–Patrick Jane read comic books?"

"As a kid, Lisbon." She nudged him companionably with her knee and he continued. "They changed history."

She tilted her head. "So?"

He looked into the distance, unfocused. "Celebrates the individual." He shrugged with false diffidence. "Lots of examples. An east Indian Ramanujan made mathematical discoveries in the '20's that are helping explain black holes today. He prevailed despite prejudice and no credentials. ... A black messman on the USS West Virginia manned an anti-aircraft gun during the Pearl Harbor attack. Brought down several enemy planes."

Puzzled, "That changed history?"

"Shattered racial barriers in the navy."

She cocked her head. Tentatively, "Patriotic?"

"About some things. Why not?"

Suddenly feeling awkward, "A little surprising." Cautiously, "I thought carnies don't connect to regular society, much less government."

He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "My father and Pete come from a long line of Irish Showmen and Travellers. Alex only talked about making money. Pete and other carnies told me stories about life in the old country–"

Curiosity had prompted Lisbon to look up "Showman" after Jane's description of his father in the Schneiderman case. Though Jane had referred to himself that way over the years, that was the first time she realized it was more than simple description. That led her to information about the Irish Travellers, a nomadic, insular cultural group marginalized and shunned by regular society. Their culture persisted among emigres fleeing the Great Irish Famine. Parallels with carnies were plain: A precarious peripatetic lifestyle, poverty, and isolation from regular society. Negative stereotypes were inevitable, deserved or not. She blinked and tuned back into their conversation.

"-didn't fare too badly in Ireland or the UK, but European Romani were killed or worked to death by the Nazis. Some were friends or distant relatives."

"That's how you knew about Defiance in the Schneiderman case."

He nodded. "Carnies appreciate American freedom and safety. No place is perfect but people on the margins do better here than a lot of places. At least now." He cleared his throat and straightened. "Time to get going."

She nodded and pulled the itinerary from her bag. "Six hours to the Big Bend National Park." They stopped for lunch first. To Lisbon's surprised amusement, Jane insisted they stop to buy hiking boots, hats, and canteens before leaving San Antonio.

Big Bend National Park

Lisbon wearily set the brake and switched off the ignition. It was long after they left the interstate, long past sundown. Wending their way to the reserved park cabin had stretched six hours into over seven.

"Didn't realize the back roads would take so long."

"Yeah."

Jane had been uncharacteristically quiet. She knew why when the dome light came on. His lips were pressed thin and his forehead was furrowed in pain. She hurriedly opened the cabin door. Jane got out and gingerly stretched. He brought in their suitcases, setting them down with a sigh.

Frowning, "Geez, Jane. Say something next time. We could have stopped!"

"No where to stop. Would only make it longer." They moved their suitcases to stands and rummaged for toiletries and night clothes. "Mind if I shower first?" At her "Go 'head" he disappeared into the bathroom, then stepped back to grab his muscle relaxant and pain meds.

Lisbon pulled off her shoes and puttered around. She popped a coffee pod in the machine and was relieved to notice the pods of tea. Jane'll diss the tea but at least we won't be driving around at midnight trying to find a store. Speaking of driving, since when does Jane suffer in silence?

Lisbon showered and they turned in. They contentedly spooned for the body heat in the cool spring night, bringing their first day of freedom to a close.

"Lisbon." She twitched at the rush of cold air and pulled the covers higher. "Lisbon!"

"Wha– whazzit?"

"C'mon, get up. You have to see this."

She rolled onto her back and grumbled. "Really, Jane?"

"Yes. C'mon." He reinforced his insistence by waving fresh coffee past her face. She reluctantly shook herself awake, sat up and reached for the cup. Barely half way through he slid the cup from her hand – "Hey!" – and grasped her arm to urge her up. She grudgingly stood and let him wrap her in the complimentary bath robe. She slid into slippers and he guided her out onto the porch. He turned them to face east. She pulled the robe tight against dampness and chill.

Dim pre-dawn light painted the world in ghostly grays. Sparse trees and bushes were radiographs against a brightening sky.

"Geez, Jane. Not even dawn yet," she yawned, freezing and still sleepy.

"Just wait," he breathed softly next to her ear. He pulled her back against his warm chest and folded his arms around her. Pink slowly suffused the drab eastern sky.

"What–" She stopped. Brilliant rays shot over the hills, shadowing the near side until the sun inched higher and– "It's beautiful!"

Spring rains and the warming ground triggered botanical imperatives. Plants sprouted and blossomed in days, exploiting every molecule of moisture in the arid land. Amazed, she stepped forward, drawn to the dazzling, back-lit blanket of yellow and blue, red and purple wild flowers. They stood silent in rapt appreciation. In Austin, springtime had barely registered against work and the urban setting.

A shiver reminded Jane she wore only the robe and an over-sized tee. They reluctantly turned and went in. He rubbed the goose bumps from her arms. She turned and mirrored his smile.

"Always wanted to see the desert bloom."

"I had no idea, Jane."

"Let's hike today! Scenery's s'posed to be magnificent." He motioned vaguely toward a brochure on the table.

Eyebrows raised in disbelief, "You're seriously gonna go hiking?"

Annoyed, "Hiked all the time on the island. I'm not anti-exercise."

"Forgive me for noticing the ninety-nine percent of the time you spent on the SCU couch–"

"–My couch," he corrected. "I exercised. Sometimes."

"When?"

Expressionlessly, "When I needed sleep."

"Oh." When you were desperate. You were exhausted most of the time.

Enthusiasm returning, "Anyway, up for a hike?"

"After a good breakfast." She stepped away to make more coffee to warm up. "Weather?"

"Perfect. High of 80. No rain."

Hours later they mounted the last, steep section of trail and paused. To her relief, Jane's back was fine so long as he avoided twisting. They turned slowly, looking out over the world laid at their feet. After checking for snakes, they gratefully sank down on a sun-warmed rock outcrop.

"Can see for miles," Lisbon said, still a trifle breathless.

"Clean air, low humidity." Jane pointed to the silver Rio Grande ribbon snaking its way below. "Gorgeous." He leaned forward and peered. Lisbon tracked his gaze to the distant river. Black dots moved across the surface. "Animals? People?"

Eyebrows knit, she speculated, "If not animals, illegal aliens or they'd use the legal crossing."

He frowned. "Tell me you're not going all FBI to apprehend them or something."

She shook her head. "I assume Border Patrol has it covered. Too far away anyhow."

Jane relaxed against the rock. He reveled in the wild beauty, gaze returning to the river as the last dot disappeared into trees on the US side. "Porous borders invite drug- and human-trafficking. But I'd cross too to escape poverty and violence."

"Why have borders if we don't enforce them?" She sighed. "I know most are just trying for a better life. But with terrorism, we can't ignore the illegals."

Puzzled, "Terrorism?"

Bristling at his apparent challenge, "What would you call it?"

"Call what? What are you talking about?"

Her searching glance detected no deception, no mocking. "Mexican drug cartels are helping Middle East terrorists across our southern border. Yeah, there are visa overstays and people radicalized through the Internet. Doesn't mean we can ignore potential terrorists sneaking in."

He blinked in surprise. "Since when?"

Lisbon sat straighter. "For years." Slowly, "Jane, what do you know about terrorist attacks in the US and Europe?"

Taken aback, "Well, 9-11 of course. And Fort Hood. I, uh, I didn't pay much attention after that."

For minutes the silence was broken only by the fitful breeze and hawks calling. 'After that.' Timothy Carter. Vegas. And 2,700 people he shook hands with. McAllister. Venezuela. Jesus. She tilted her head. "The Boston marathon bombing? Charlie Hebdo and the Paris theater attacks? San Bernadino?"

He shook his head slightly. "No English language news in the island village."

"The Orlando, Brussels, and Nice attacks happened after you came back," she pointed out.

Relieved, "I recall those. I was kind of focused on Blake though."

She ran her hand down his arm. "Sorry, didn't mean to accuse. It's just – well, terrorism is metastasizing. I thought you'd know even in South America."

Expression troubled, "Illegals from the southern border committed attacks in the US?"

"Not so far. Our borders are vulnerable though." She shrugged. "Never mind."

"Ah." Grateful, he vowed to look it up when he had the chance.

Late afternoon found them pleasantly tired and ready for less strenuous enjoyment. At a visitor's center they watched an orientation film – whose warnings about bears and cougars shocked Lisbon ("The name 'Panther Junction Visitor's Center' could be a clue, detective," Jane whispered with a grin). They browsed the fossils, learned about the natural and cultural history, and looked over a 3-D model of the park in comfort. Lisbon joked that they should have walked the short nature trail before hiking so she'd know what she was looking at. They dined at a nearby restaurant and were back at the cabin by mid-evening.

Lisbon exited the bathroom brushing her damp hair. She paused by the bed and nudged Jane's foot with her knee.

Without opening his eyes, "Y-e-e-e-e-s?"

"Too early to turn in. Movie?" Even their simple, remote cabins had satellite reception.

"Nature? Science? Animal anything?" he yawned.

"How about one involving actual, you know, people?"

Neutrally, "If you wish. You choose."

She tossed the hairbrush on a chair and lay down beside him. "What have you got against movies with people?" She idly traced patterns on his chest.

He made a face, then rolled onto his side. "The tells are distracting," he explained as he toyed with her hair.

"You read the actors in the movies?"

"It's automatic." Her surprise encouraged him to continue. "Unless actors are immersed in the roles, their tells are inconsistent with on-screen action." He chuckled, "Often unintentionally hilarious. –Hard to predict if I'll like a movie."

She looked at him speculatively. "Foreign films?"

"Very good, Lisbon." He rolled onto his back, his embrace bringing her to rest against his chest. "If the culture is different enough, tells are less distracting." He shifted to settle her more comfortably.

"Thought tells are universal?"

"Oh, they are. But behavior is overlaid with cultural norms." His voice rumbled pleasantly against her chest. "You've heard this example. –In some cultures people of inferior social status look downward as a mark of respect. Unlike here, looking straight-on is considered brazen. Insolent."

"So?" She punctuated her question with a kiss on the side of his mouth.

"Different norms are a kind of 'noise,'" he said between kisses. "Harder to read body language, easier to enjoy the movie."

"Now I know." A decade and I'm still tripping over new quirks. Huh.

"I know a better way to spend the evening." He clicked off the lamp.

** M-rated **

He found the hem of her shirt, the feather touch triggering a shiver of desire. Impatient, she pulled cami and sports bra over her head and onto the floor. Her hands slipped under his tee, petting the planes of his chest and thumbing his nipples. He helpfully raised his arms as she divested him of shirt. He filled his hands with the exciting mounds of her breasts, traced the subtle bumps of ribs and spine ending with his fingers slipped under her waistband. They rolled to the side to attack buttons and flies. Her shorts and panties disappeared with one caress. She tugged his shorts and boxers off over his erection.

A muffled question about his sprained back was swallowed by kisses, nibbles and fondling. Languid became torrid – nipping, stroking, teasing. Breathing fast he knelt before her and guided himself to her entrance, barely remembering to check if she was wet. One strong thrust sheathed him inside – slick, tight ecstasy. He set a punishing pace. Swept along, her hips rose to meet every thrust with legs wrapping his waist to deepen penetration. Unbearable tension broke as she came with his next rough thrust, clenching around him. Her orgasm drew him over the edge and he came with a half shout, half sob. Boneless and enervated, he muttered and rolled off so she could breathe. Recovering, she nestled against his side and pulled up the covers. He was fast asleep. Just before dropping off she realized what he'd muttered: Free at last.

** End of M-rated **

Lisbon stirred at the loss of Jane's warmth alongside her. They'd fallen asleep so early that waking in the middle of the night was inevitable. Not bothering with a light she padded to the bathroom to relieve herself. After donning robe and shoes, she slipped outside and joined the dark shape leaning against the railing.

Stars blazed in the infinite depths. Violently beautiful. Overwhelming.

His voice startled her. "Puts us in perspective, doesn't it?"

In awe, "How can you not believe in God?"

He exhaled, condensed breath faintly visible in the starlight. "Humility." She snorted. "We're like one-celled animals explaining the universe from a puddle."

"You're making my argument."

"Astronomers say most stars have planets. What conceit to think we can know the how and why of creation, that we're the point of all this."

"Faith."

Wryly, "Not my strong suit." He allowed for the possibility out of respect. "I can't say there isn't God. I just don't know that there is." Not after Angie and Charlie... He draped an arm around her and changed the subject. "The Lowell Observatory's in Flagstaff. Obsolete, of course, but could be fun."

"How'd you get interested in astronomy?"

"Some clients had observatories. Neat that individuals can get good images."

"Something you want to do?" He shrugged. "You're free now. What do you want to do?"

"We agreed to start an agency in Sacramento," the seeming non sequitur achingly relevant.

She cocked her head at his deflection. "Not what I asked. What do you want?"

He fell silent for a bit. "Damned if I know. Question was irrelevant for 13 years."

"I, I thought after McAllister–"

"Only now am I free to choose where I live, what I do and with whom." Slowly, "I enjoyed solving crimes at the CBI. Returning to Sacramento and working with you feel right. Beyond that – I don't know."

She gave him an encouraging hug. "That's a start. We'll figure it out." After another long look at the sky, they went inside to snuggle and doze till morning.