Sincere apologies for the delay on posting this, but better late than never! Thanks to everyone who reviewed part 1 I really appreciate it.

Fear.

Lisbon spends the morning lying in bed, checking her phone every 2 minutes to see if Van Pelt has called and she has somehow missed it ringing, even though she is sitting with it grasped in her hand. She feels light headed and dizzy and every time she thinks of Jane she swears her heart misses a beat.

What if he isn't ok? A hundred different scenarios run through her mind and in the end Lisbon can't take it anymore. She flips open her cell phone and dials Van Pelt's number quickly before she can change her mind. The younger agent answers on the first ring.

"Hey boss, I was just going to call you," Van Pelt says.

"Have you spoken to Jane? Is he ok?" Lisbon asks urgently, fear causing her voice to come out an octave higher than usual.

"I don't know; I'm sorry I haven't spoken to him. His cell is going straight to voicemail and he's not responding to any of my messages." Van Pelt pauses and Lisbon can hear her take deep breath. "I heard what you said before, about not knowing where he lives, so I did a little research. He never sold the house he lived in with his family, and I've checked the records to make sure he's never purchased any other residence."

"You think he still lives there?" Lisbon asks, failing to keep the shock and doubt from her voice.

"I thought it was worth a shot so I looked up the address and drove out to the house. His car's here so I'm assuming he's in there as well, I was going to call to see if you wanted me to go in and check up on him?" Van Pelt asks.

There is a moment of silence while Lisbon runs through the options in her head.

"No," She responds eventually. "I really appreciate all your help, but I think this is something that I need to do myself. Can you come pick me up? My car is still at work"

"Of course, I'll be there as soon as I can," Van Pelt says before hanging up.

Lisbon scrambles out of bed, feeling more apprehensive than ever about the prospect of having to face the broken man she saw last night. She runs through a speech in her head while changing her clothes, trying to figure out some way to explain her behaviour and fix the mess she has caused.

By the time Van Pelt arrives to pick her up Lisbon is a nervous wreck inside, while still trying desperately to appear strong and calm on the outside. If the looks of concern Van Pelt keeps throwing her way on the drive over to his house are any indication, she is obviously doing a very poor job of hiding her distress.

As they pull up outside his house Lisbon has to force her legs to move. She barely hears Van Pelts whispered good luck as she exits the car; instead she focuses on putting one foot in front of the other until she makes it to the front door. She debates with herself for a moment, should she knock or just walk in? In the end she decides that knocking would be pointless because she knows he won't answer. She finds the door unlocked and takes a deep breath before pushing it open and entering the silent house.

Lisbon finds him on the second floor. To say she is shocked by the state of the rooms she has walked through would be an understatement, they are almost deviod of furniture and there are no signs that anyone lives in the house at all. She has almost convinced herself that he isn't there when she opens the door at the end of the upstairs hallway.

The first thing she notices is the smiley face painted on the wall. She can't help but gasp and she has to force herself not to turn away from the mocking smile, or close her eyes in disgust and pretend that she never saw it. Her eyes eventually drift downwards towards the man sitting on the mattress laid out on the floor, directly beneath the bloody signature. She swears her heart skips a beat at the sight of him.

Remorse.

She has never felt more remorseful in her life. Never wished that she could take back something she has said or done as much as she wishes she could take back the previous nights argument. He is just sitting there, staring at the wall, seemingly oblivious to her presence in the room. She stumbles across the room on autopilot, with no purpose in mind other than to comfort him and ease his pain.

"Jane?" She whispers as she falls to her knees in front of him. His eyes remain unfocused, staring at a point somewhere over her left shoulder. "Jane," She says again, more forceful this time, raising her hands to his shoulders and giving him a gentle shake.

He flinches back from her touch but otherwise remains unresponsive.

"Patrick?" She whispers eventually, tentatively raising her hands to his cheeks because although she's never been a touchy feely kind of person she thinks maybe she can make an exception for him. His skin is cool beneath her fingertips and she can feel the dried tear tracks which have run down his face. The realization that he has cried tears over her and for her makes her stomach turn over and for a moment she feels physically sick.

She leans forward slightly, trying to get his eyes to focus on her own, while stroking her thumbs back and forwards over his cheekbones lightly. She is unsure how long they remain like this before he seems to return to himself slightly. His eyes finally meet her own and she shudders at the intensity of his stare.

"Lisbon?" He whispers, so quietly that at first she isn't sure if she has imagined it.

"I'm here," She nods, pulling back slightly so she can see him more clearly. "I'm so sorry."

"Why?" He croaks, his voice sounding as terrible as hers did when she first spoke to Van Pelt. "You told me the truth."

"No," She says, more forcefully now. "I was so angry, not at you but I took it out on you anyway. You didn't deserve any of what I said to you."

"I deserve much worse than that." He responds. "You were right about all of it, I got them killed, and I should have noticed Rebecca. I'm sure the clues were there I just didn't..."

"Stop it, please," Lisbon whispers. "It wasn't your fault. If I could take it all back I would, but I can't change what I said to you. I'm telling the truth now, I promise I don't blame you."

He stares at her and she knows he is reading her in a way that only he can. For once she doesn't become uncomfortable under his intense gaze; she stares back just as resolutely, willing him to see the truth in her expression. He sighs wearily before turning away from her, staring at the wall once more.

"It doesn't really matter whether you meant it or not, it was the truth. I'm sure you just said what everybody else was thinking." He says after a long pause.

"No-one blames you. I know what I said about Rebecca was..."

"Don't, please. I don't think I can talk about it, at least not just yet," He whispers, his voice breaking slightly. He closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them again she can see that the mask he normally wears is gone. In it's place she sees him. The anguish on his face is clear and she notices a single tear fall from the corner of his eye. She can't remember one word of the speech she had rehearsed and she can't think of any words to comfort him; so instead she reaches out to him, wrapping her arms securely around his shoulders and he responds in kind, clinging to her so tightly it is almost painful.

She is vaguely aware of the tears falling from her own eyes as they cry together. For once she forgets all about her boundaries and personal space, and the thought that this isn't professional doesn't even cross her mind, instead she lets her body becomes limp in his arms as an overwhelming tiredness washes through her.

Fatigue.

Lisbon isn't sure whether she pulls him or he pulls her, all she knows is that they end up lying side by side on the mattress, holding on to each other desperately. Their arms and legs become so entwined it is difficult to tell which limbs belong to who, but she doesn't complain, she needs this closeness as much as he does.

Their tears dry up eventually but his body still shakes with sobs and Lisbon feels like her heart is tearing in two. She runs her fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe him while whispering random words of comfort in his ear. Eventually his body relaxes slightly and his breathing becomes deeper as he falls asleep in her arms. He rolls on to his back and pulls her with him so she ends up sprawled across his chest, arms and legs still intricately entwined. It isn't long after this that Lisbon falls into a slumber as well, lulled by the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath her ear.

She isn't sure how long she has been asleep, judging by the sunlight still streaming in to the room she doesn't think it can have been more than a couple of hours. She goes from being sound asleep to instantly wide awake in the space of a couple of heartbeats, and she knows Jane is already awake as she can feel his fingertips lightly rubbing circles on the back of her hand. She remains immobile in his arms, head still resting on his chest, as she tries to figure out what she should say next.

"I know you're awake," He whispers after a moments silence, his voice still sounding hoarse. His fingers never stop their movement on the back of her hand and she takes this as a good sign. She just nods her head nervously, unsure what to say and whether or not she has the courage to look him in the eyes after everything that has transpired between them.

"You're nervous," He states calmly, sounding a bit more like his usual know-it-all self.

She still doesn't respond.

"Look at me," He commands.

"I can't," She finally manages to say. His fingers stop drawing random patterns on her hand; instead he trails them lightly up her arm, over her collarbone and up her neck until he is cupping her cheek gently.

"Please look at me, Teresa," It is the use of her first name which shocks her enough to tilt her head back slightly, aided by the gentle pressure of his fingertips on her cheek, until her eyes finally meet his own blue gaze.

"I forgive you," He states simply, and it weren't for the honesty and truth she can read on his face she would swear he was joking. How can he possibly forgive her just like that, after all of the harsh words she had thrown at him?

"How? Why? I don't deserve it," She says sadly. She tries to sit up to put some distance between their bodies as his close proximity is making it difficult for her to think, but he clings to her tighter, holding her in position against his chest.

"I won't lie to you, what you said hurt, I think it hurt more coming from you than it would have from anyone else. But I don't blame you for saying what you did...I should have picked up on her."

"I know that Bosco didn't have your skills and he couldn't read people like you do,"She says hesitantly, unsure whether he is ready to talk about it yet, "but he was still a damn good cop and he spent more time with her than anyone else. So if he didn't realize that something was wrong then why should you? You're good at what you do, but you're not perfect and you make mistakes just like the rest of us."

"I can't afford to make mistakes when it comes to Red John," He says sadly.

"If we've learnt anything about Red John from this, it's that he makes mistakes too. We'll get him one day, hopefully sooner rather than later, but we'll get him." She says firmly, more determined now than ever to catch the man who has caused so much pain.

She opens her mouth to apologize one more time but it seems he has anticipated what she is going to do and he speaks before she can.

"Don't apologize again," He says, shaking his head slightly. "There's no need, I forgive you."

"I know you said that already but I have a hard time believing you," She says softly. Her hands have dropped to his shoulders and she finds herself nervously fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

"Why don't you believe me?" He asks gently.

"Because I was so cruel, I don't deserve your forgiveness."

"I happen to disagree. You deserve much more than I could ever give you," He pauses and she tilts her head back so she can see his face. "But I'm a selfish man and knowing that you deserve better than me isn't enough to make me walk away from you."

She studies his expression intently, trying to understand what he is saying. Her heartbeat quickens in response to his words and the intimate tone of his voice, and his fingers which are drawing patterns on her wrist cause goose bumps to rise on her skin.

"What are you saying?" She asks eventually, when the tension between them becomes too much. He doesn't respond, instead he just continues staring at her intently. His scrutiny makes her nervous and she wants to look away to break the connection, but her body remains frozen and her gaze is locked on his own.

He leans forward and presses his lips to her own quickly, almost chastely, before pulling back to judge her reaction. She is stunned for a moment, unsure whether to berate him for inappropriate behaviour or demand that he kiss her again. In the end she does neither, she just waits for his next move.

He leans his head down slightly so that their faces are inches apart, his eyes flicker down towards her lips before meeting her gaze again, making his intentions clear.

"Tell me to stop," He whispers, even as he raises his hand to cup her cheek and pull her impossibly closer.

"I wish I could," She says breathlessly.

It appears that this is all the answer he needs because she has barely finished speaking before he leans forward slightly to capture her lips with his own. She raises her hands to his neck and clings to him as the kiss turns from sweet to passionate in the space of a heartbeat.

He leans backwards, pulling her with him, so he is lying flat on the mattress with her body lying flush on top of him. She feels one of his hands trail down her side until he is gripping her waist, while the other hand tangles in her hair.

When they finally break apart she knows her face is flushed and her breathing is embarrassingly fast. He maintains his tight hold on her and she makes no moves to distance herself from him, instead she leans her head down and rests it on his shoulder while she catches her breath.

When she tilts her head back to look up at him he just smiles at her, and although it isn't his usual mega-watt grin it seems genuine, enough to make her believe that maybe he isn't completely broken after all. It's enough to make her think that maybe, just maybe, they have a chance. It's enough to give her hope. She returns his smile with one of her own when she realizes how she feels.

Optimistic.

So, that's it. Any thoughts? I may write a sequel to this so keep checking back for updates. Once again, thanks for reading and I would love to hear from you.