Disclaimer: Hey, if it's up for grabs, I'll take it! Um, can somebody give me a loan?

Author's Note: This is AU, and I'm glad. Just a "what if?" story of the path not taken to get us through these emotional times.

Chapter 1

My phone rings, and I pull it out of my pocket. Cho barking my name and Fischer swearing under her breath both become unimportant when I see Lisbon's name. "Lisbon! Anything wrong?"

She chuckles a little. "You're just convinced I can't get by without you, aren't you? No, everything's fine."

Good, but she doesn't call me often. Occasionally she'll text me pictures of things she knows I'd like, but I can count on one hand the number of times we've spoken since that last painful goodbye.

"Hey, man, put your fucking hands in the fucking air!" screams the innocent but stupid person waving his gun around in my immediate vicinity. I put my free hand up to placate him.

"Jane?" Lisbon overheard, because she sounds worried,

"Just another day on the job," I assure her. "Cho and Fischer are here. They say hi." I tilt the phone away from my mouth to call, "Hey, guys, Lisbon says hi."

Cho commands, "Get off the phone, Jane!"

I ignore such a silly directive. This is Lisbon; I'm not hanging up on her. "So how is Marcus?" I ask her.

"Fine. Working a lot."

Ah. All is not well in paradise. I suspected as much.

"Look, the reason I'm calling is I have to testify in the Parsons case next week. I'm flying in Sunday night. I'd love to see you. All of you."

My heart does a weird little leap. "We'd love to see you too. Can I pick you up at the airport? I'm testifying too, so no need to rent a car."

"You're testifying? Abbott lets you take the stand?" Lisbon sounds like she doesn't believe me.

"Jane, call her back later!" Fischer yells.

I spare a glance for our wild-eyed suspect. "He's not going to shoot me," I assure them all. "He just has unresolved Daddy issues and is terrified of authority figures. Which I'm not. Put your guns down and he'll be fine."

"I'll, um, text you my flight information," Lisbon says quickly. "Do what Cho says, Jane. You hear me?"

"Got it. See you soon." I hang up the phone, to everyone's relief, and turn my attention back to getting us out of this cul-de-sac in our investigation. I have important things to do. Lisbon's coming to town!

mmm

I last saw Lisbon seven weeks, two days, and going on four hours ago. I have missed her every minute of that time, even the ones when I'm asleep. Maybe especially those, because she's all I seem to dream about.

I knew when I decided not to interfere with her happiness that it would be hard for me without her. And it has been. It's like phantom limb pain; I'm constantly turning around to say something to her or thinking I see her in crowds. Last week I automatically made a cup of coffee with my tea and was halfway to her desk before I realized she wasn't there and probably never would be again. I gave the coffee to Cho, who took one sip of the sugary brew and rolled his eyes at me. But he didn't say anything. He's a good man.

He and Fischer have been watching me like hawks, no doubt on Abbott's orders. I'm amusing myself by subtly convincing them that they have a crush on each other. It's pathetically easy because it happens to be true. If they don't tear each other's clothes off by the end of the month, I've lost my touch. Just because I'm miserable doesn't mean others should pass up happiness.

Lisbon's flight is scheduled to arrive at six o'clock Sunday evening. Perfect. I'll take her to dinner and then get her checked in to her hotel. I text an offer to let her stay in the Airstream, but she declines as I knew she would.

Just the thought of seeing her again makes me giddy. I spend Saturday shopping and badgering a tailor to alter my new suit in a rush. On Sunday I swing by a car rental place and pick up a sporty little convertible I think she'll enjoy, then retrieve my new suit from the tailor, fetch my new shirts from the 24-hour dry cleaner, stop by the shoe shiner, and head home to change and shave. When I'm done I look almost like my old self—not the con man, but the CBI consultant of yore.

I want to look like the man she loved, not the man she left.

And I want her to see I'm doing fine, that she doesn't have to worry about me. If Cho and Fischer have been using words like morose and sullen and depressed to describe me, I want her to decide they were exaggerating. I'm not going to negate my sacrifice by letting my misery cloud her happiness.

And that reminds me: if I'm going to pull off the happy and healthy act, I need to take off my ring. So I do, slowly and painfully, and put it carefully away. My finger feels wrong without its weight, but I tell myself I'll get used to it. Eventually.

I'm just about to leave for the airport when she texts me that her flight is delayed. I'm crushed with disappointment but keep my texts cheery, joking about taking a hot air balloon instead because, you know, Washington is full of long-winded politicians spinning airy promises. Lisbon doesn't seem amused, but I enjoy her crankiness after such a long deprivation.

The evening wears on, until around eight Lisbon lets me know they're finally boarding. She tells me she doesn't want to drag me out so late and she'll just take a cab to her hotel.

Nonsense, I text back. You know I don't sleep much. I'll be there to meet you with bells on.

That better be a figure of speech, she responds. Doors are closing. See you in a couple hours.

mmm

I'm jittery with anticipation as I wait by the security checkpoint, scanning anxiously for the one face in all the world I want to see. When I finally spot her, I swear my heart rams into my ribs, trying to get to her. Her precious face is pale with fatigue and crinkled with annoyance, but it's the best thing I've seen in months. I can feel myself beaming like an idiot but I don't care.

She's cut her hair to about shoulder length, reminding me of when we first met. Women sometimes cut their hair as a sign of mourning, but in her case I wonder if she was celebrating having a great weight lifted from her by escaping my gravitational pull. Whatever the reasoning, it looks good on her. She doesn't look a day older than when I first saw her, I realize. Well, if anybody deserves eternal youth, it's Teresa Lisbon.

Her face lights up when she sees me, and she gives me a big, happy smile with teeth. I scoop her up in a bear hug, lifting her off her feet for a moment, and she laughs a little breathlessly as I set her down. "Missed me, huh?" she says.

"You have no idea how much," I tell her truthfully.

"I missed you, too," she says, wrestling with me as I try to take her bag. After a second she lets me win, and we head out to the car while she tells me about her flight.

"And I was really wishing I'd learned how to hypnotize people, because he just would not shut up. He seemed convinced that telling me stories about how great he was would make me want to go home with him, no matter how many times I told him I was with somebody."

Take a number and get in line, buddy, I think to her seat mate. She already has an FBI agent boyfriend and an FBI consultant waiting in the wings if her first choice doesn't work out.

I stop at the little convertible and load her bag into the trunk while she stares. "When did you get this?"

"Oh, not long ago. What, you were expecting the Airstream?"

"Well...yeah." She gets in after I open the door for her.

"It's a bear to park," I reply. When I'm settled in the driver's seat, I add, "I thought you'd like this better."

"Yeah." She looks at me closely. "The beard's gone."

"It was time," I say. "The beach bum look was getting old."

She looks unsettled for a moment, then smiles. "Well, you look good."

"Thank you. You look lovely, by the way. I like the new haircut. Pike must be taking good care of you."

She snorts a little. "I take care of myself." Then she adds hurriedly, "He's very good to me. Just...really busy with work. There's a lot of travel involved. He says he'd like to take me to Paris one day with all his frequent flier miles."

"Everybody should see Paris at least once in their life," I say, remembering taking Angela there after my first big break.

"Yeah," Lisbon sighs. Then she yawns.

"Ah ha," I say. "You wanted the Airstream so you could take a nap."

"No. But I am really tired. It's past midnight in DC."

I notice she didn't say "at home." I'm torn between sadness and relief that she doesn't seem happy in her new life: relief because I'm not sure I could stand to hear her gush about it, and sad because I gave up my happiness for her, but it doesn't seem like that made her happy.

Apparently it's beyond my ability to make her happy no matter how hard I try.

I do the best I can, though. I drive her straight to her hotel and pull her bag out of the trunk, handing it to the bellhop with a generous tip so he'll treat her like a princess. Then I walk her to the door, reluctant to let her go. I need more time with her.

"Cho and Fischer and Wylie are going to meet us after the trial tomorrow for drinks," I tell her. "Abbott might even come. They can't wait to see you."

She smiles. "That's great. I can't wait to see them too."

On impulse, I blurt out, "Let me take you to breakfast in the morning."

"Oh. Um. There's free breakfast here," she says, hesitating.

"Meh. You should have a real breakfast. I know a great place. The bear claws are to die for," I wheedle.

She smiles at me a little wryly. "Okay. Seven?"

"Seven." I could dance, I'm so happy.

"Thanks for coming to get me," she says softly.

"Anytime, Lisbon. Anytime," I assure her.

Then, because I'm tired of passing up chances, I lean forward and kiss her smooth cheek. "Sweet dreams," I whisper.

Surprised, she raises a hand to the spot my lips touched. Then she smiles. "You too."

I watch until she's safely at the check-in desk, then head back out to the car, already committing the exact silkiness of her cheek and the herbal scent of her hair to memory.