Title: Into the Dawn

Summary: Post 2x23, "Instead, we're going to skip all the usual questions and we're going to get straight to the point—what the hell are you doing in my bed?" J/L-ish

Disclaimer: I just play in the huge sandbox.

A/N: I absolutely love being able to dabble in feel good, humor fluff…especially when it's a birthday fic for someone as awesome as Chiisana Minako, hehe.

This entire piece has two parts, so I'll either have the second part up later tonight or have it up early tomorrow.

The light within her bedroom is off, at first, and the hallway light, dim at best; doesn't reach into her bedroom completely, but it doesn't stop her from taking the familiar path into the bedroom, her hands already fingering the hem of the drenched blouse from the sudden downpour outside, and it's really of no surprise that she doesn't notice the other presence in her room, until she starts to unbutton her blouse.

"I didn't think I was going to receive a show."

Teresa Lisbon stopped unbuttoning her shirt, her fingers going straight for her off-duty weapon in her holster. It didn't matter that when she turned around, her gun aimed in the direction of the intruder, that he could see a flash of white from her bra.

"Is this anyway to greet a guest, Lisbon?"

Light suddenly flooded her bedroom and she blinked a few times before her eyes adjusted to the bright light, in which she could finally focus on her queen-sized bed.

She blinked again, and again, and then again in disbelief.

Patrick Jane was on her bed; his legs under her light blue comforter, back pressed against her dark oak headboard, the grin on his face told volumes of just how amused he was with the current situation—was this some sort of a hallucination for not having slept in over forty-eight hours? Or did he really just break into her home, only to get under her comforter?

Either way, she decided with her eyes narrowed, he was going to explain.

"Firstly," Jane interrupted her train of thought. "I'm not a hallucination." The grin became a smirk, and she grimaced—if her hallucination was now telling her that he wasn't a hallucination, did it mean she was going crazy? "Secondly," he continued on. "I'm hungry—what are we having for dinner?"

Lisbon groaned, only the real Jane could ask such a question and make it sound as if he were asking what the weather was like outside.

"I'm not even going to ask how you managed to slip into my home." Lisbon told him, while she moved to place her gun back into her holster, because as much as she itched to shoot him, she doubted that Hightower would be as lenient with the action, if she did so. "Instead, we're going to skip all the usual questions and we're going to get straight to the point—what the hell are you doing in my bed?" Jane flipped another grin, and she grimaced in return. "Start talking or I'll find very good reasons to abuse my license to wield weapons."

Jane didn't even seem phased, which meant she quite possibly needed a new threat.

"Jane!"

"You never told me what we're having for dinner." Lisbon blinked again, frustrated with her consultant's lack of answer and she glanced over at the bedside table, to read the neon numbering of her clock: 11:59 PM.

"Jane, you're going to tell me what you're doing in my bed." He only grinned in response, and patted the area next to him. "I don't think so, I'm not about to get into bed with you, we're not even…" She paused, obviously realizing that getting her flustered was a diversion tactic. "Seriously, what are you doing here?" He shrugged.

"I thought this was my bed."

"Sure," she threw back. "…and let me guess, the clothes in the dresser you thought were yours too?" Jane beamed.

"Of course not, they're yours." She raised her eyebrow in question.

"What would my clothes being doing in a room with your bed?" Jane quirked his own eyebrow, before he responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"They were lonely."

"Lonely?" She repeated, slowly. "Lonely?"

"They feel that after the events of the past few days, they shouldn't be alone."

"Oh, so now you're the clothes whisperer or something like that?" Lisbon snared, she was tired and just wanted to sleep—but with her consultant before her, she was not about to climb into bed with him there—it just seemed odd and strange. "Jane, I'm too tired to put up with your crap—so…either you leave, or I leave—either way, I need the sleep." Lisbon spun toward her doorway to leave, when Jane's voice stopped her.

"They feel that after the events of the past few days, they shouldn't be alone." Jane repeated, and Lisbon paused in her spot to repeat the sentence within her own mind.

Jane was either pulling her leg, or he was trying to tell her (in his own little way) that he didn't want to be alone.

"Oh." Out of every word she could have possibly said, 'oh' just seemed to be the easiest.

"Yes." He replied, and she turned to glance at him. "I just don't think you should be alone."

Lisbon scoffed, "you just had a traumatic experience and you're telling me that I shouldn't be alone?" Jane only blinked in response, and Lisbon sighed before she warily rubbed her eyes—the weight of the past forty-eight hours was beginning to crash down upon her, and she certainly wasn't in the mood for his silly games or weird antics; all she wanted was a straight answer. "Jane, I think you're forgetting who carries the gun around here."

"All three of them, you mean?" he teased, and she rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Jane. All three of them." Lisbon turned around to face Jane, and stepped over to the bed to sit down on the edge of the bed, her eyes focused on the hardwood floor below. "What are you really doing here, Jane?"

He shifted in the bed before he glanced over at her, "I couldn't sleep."

The simple, honest admission caused her heart to break—she wished after Bosco's death, that she could have been just as honest with Jane about something like that, as he had just been with her.

"I…"

"If you want me to leave…" Jane moved to throw the comforter off his legs.

"No." Lisbon interrupted, as she pulled her legs up onto her bed and rested her own back against the headboard. "I guess my clothes would enjoy the company." He beamed.

"Thank you." His response was fairly quiet, but she heard it non-the-less.

"You're welcome, Jane."

The pair fell into a comfortable silence, and Lisbon had almost closed her eyes until Jane opened his mouth.

"I guess this means I don't get food?" She lazily threw her hand into his shoulder. "Fine, I'll take the hint—you're going to be a bad hostess, aren't you?" She only smirked in response, and allowed her eyes to close.