AN: Originally, there wasn't going to be a chapter two, but I discovered that I had more to say on the matter. Also, I just felt like writing something...so this is what happened.

Whys and Wherefores

Chapter Two

The rational part of her brain informed her that she shouldn't sleep with him that night. He had literally just kissed her for the very first time, and there was no reason to start tearing his clothes off.

However, when Jane found a pressure point behind her earlobe with his lips, the rational part of her brain promptly shut down.

Before she knew how it happened, before she could commit every single second of this to memory, she was underneath him, still on top of the comforter, legs wrapped around his waist, her wordless groans muffled by his mouth.

She didn't want gentle, languid lovemaking. She had waited forever for this, and she wanted the confirmation that his passion was as strong as hers was.

He gave it to her, heart pounding, panting breath, fine sheen of sweat collecting on his warm skin.

When it was over, he lay quietly in her arms, lips pressed to her collarbone. She couldn't remember the last time she'd held a man like this, and then she wondered if the last person Jane had been like this with was his wife.

She'd never asked him about his time on the island, if there had been another woman to help him pass the time. Truth was, she didn't want to know.

Eventually, Jane sat up far enough to pull the edge of the duvet up and shimmy them both beneath it. This time, she was the one curled against him, head on his bare chest, arm wrapped around his waist.

There was a lot to think about.

He had come here tonight asking for a chance. To be with her. She wasn't even sure where that had come from. They'd hardly spoken in the past few months, and now he was suddenly trying to have an honest to God romantic relationship with her.

To be honest, looking back now, she could see where he had been making an effort. She had firmly rebuffed him every time, even as he own instincts had told her to drop whatever she was doing and go along with it.

Her heart had taken a series of beatings that would kill a lesser being over the years, and now that it had regained some semblance of normality, she would fight to keep it (mostly) whole.

Well, she thought, closing her eyes as Jane ran a hand through her hair, that had all gone out the proverbial window tonight.

God, but it was nice to not just have to wonder what this was like. Now she knew. Knew what his eyes looked like when he relinquished control over himself, knew precisely what the weight of his body felt like on hers, knew that, yes, he was every bit as good as she'd always thought he would be. It was more than that, too.

It was having the right to touch him, something she had mostly gotten in the habit of not doing.

He nuzzled the top of her head with his nose and she smiled.

It was amazing, the difference an hour made.

Of course, that was the story of life. Mere seconds sometimes made all the difference in the world. Lives changed in a heartbeat. She knew that. Jane knew that, too, probably better than she did.

She yawned widely, muscles protesting as she stretched. She in better shape than the average person, but there are some muscle groups you can't exercise in the gym without getting banned for life.

The silence in her bedroom was warm, peaceful, slumberous.

And then Jane's stomach rumbled.

Loudly.

She sighed, propping herself up on one elbow. "Is this where you make a crack about working up an appetite?"

He grinned, in even in the dimness, it was like a sunrise. "No, this is where I tell you I wouldn't be hungry at all if someone hadn't stormed out of the restaurant a few hours ago."

She was quiet for a moment, then soundly hit him in the face with a pillow.

"Ouch, woman," he protested, grabbing her wrists. Then he shook his head sadly. "This is never going to work. We've been together two hours and it's already come to blows."

She tried to free her arms, but Jane stretched them above her head, pinning them to the mattress. He grinned down at her.

"Really, Lisbon, I was under the impression we were going to be very happy. Have I been laboring under the wrong impression?" His lips were inches from hers, and she remembered the look in his eyes from just an hour ago.

"Hmm," she said playfully, wriggling closer as best she could. "You might be right. Fighting already. Not a good sign."

Softly, he kissed her, and she marveled once more that this was really happening. "No," he breathed.

"But," she went on, voice low. "maybe we should see how the make-up sex goes before we jump to any conclusions."

"What a wonderful plan," he murmured, and then he said nothing except her name for some time.

Later, they sat beside each other on the couch, a pizza box resting on her small coffee table.

"Mm," he said appreciatively, eating what she thought was his fourth slice. "You just could not get good pizza on that island. Not enough grease. I had to eat healthier. It was torture." He took a swig of the beer she'd had in her refrigerator.

"Poor baby," she said with a distinct lack of sympathy. "I'm sure the perfect weather and the beautiful beaches were some small comfort, however."

He shrugged, meeting her eyes. His were warm. "Paradise is only paradise when you have someone to share it with."

She squeezed his hand. "Have I told you how very glad I am that the FBI tracked you down?"

"Actually, no," he said, eyes opening wide. "And it's too bad they didn't send you after me."

She laughed. "They probably thought I'd just run away with you."

He was serious now. "Would you?"

She thought for a second. "Well, that depends."

He looked vitally interested. "On what?"

"On what you were offering." She smirked, then leaned forward for a quick kiss.

"Hmm," he hummed, considering. "Let's see. I've got...an Airstream that gets horrible gas mileage, the highest level security clearance the FBI can give, a smartphone that I don't know how to use, and I've sold my soul to the federal government for the next five years."

She kissed him again. "I'll take it."

"Such low standards," he teased, smiling against her mouth. "But I guess it's settled. We're running away after my term of indentured servitude is up."

For the first time, she fell asleep in his arms that night, back under the downy mass of her blankets. Jane was a cuddler, she discovered, and he wrapped himself around her so tightly it was almost uncomfortable.

However, she would rather die than tell him to move.

The strangeness of waking up next to a man she had dreamed about for so long took some getting used to. It was the best kind of adjusting, though.

He made breakfast in the morning, barefoot, clothes unbelievably wrinkled from where they had laid on the floor for most of the night. The image he presented, however, deeply tempted her to just jump him in the kitchen.

She wondered if they should slow down, take their time. But then he smiled at her, and she told herself that twelve years was slow enough.

Over the next two weeks, they fell into a routine. He came to her place after work (if they weren't on a case) and she could honestly say that she had not ever been happier. They went out to dinner, watched crappy television, and one Saturday morning, he even went grocery shopping with her.

Half of the tea that went into her cart wound up in her kitchen cupboards.

It made her smile whenever she thought about it, but not as much as the man himself did.

Jane behaved himself at work, at least, mostly, and she came to appreciate being his partner again. She had avoided him for months, despite the good she knew they did together, and having him back was like a cool rain after a long drought.

He was warm, romantic, and his ability to read her moods perfectly probably saved them a lot of fighting.

And his wedding ring stayed gone.

The first night he told her he loved her would remain one of her favorite moments. Unlike the first time he'd said the words, there was no urgency, no panic, and no one was armed. They were whispered softly into her ear as she drifted off, secure in the circle of his arms.

She opened her eyes enough to see him smiling, returned the sentiment, then fell asleep listening to the beat of his heart.

He sent her flowers the next day at work, carefully not signing the card, and she had to endure Fischer's endless speculation about who had given them to her. Someday, she was going to tell the other woman. But she just wanted to keep Jane to herself for a little while longer.

Depends on what you were offering, she'd told him.

The answer to that was clear, at least to her.

Everything.

She had taken him up on that. And there was no going back now.

Thank God.