A/N: Alright, so guys, this is pretty much what it says on the tin, the sequel to Secret Drawer. When Lisbon finds the drawer. This one is also for chizuru_chibi, because it sprung out of her original prompt/story. (Which P.S., Chibs, you are very much two for two on the prompts, I have to say). It's a sequel to the original, or maybe a tag (yes, I apparently writing tags to my own fic. Don't judge me). I hope you all enjoy it. This is all for me, for the near future.

Finding the Secret Drawer


"You know," Lisbon murmured, as she guessed another letter in their hangman game. "You don't need to spend so much time up here anymore."

"Why wouldn't I?" Jane asked as he drew an arm on the little hangman. "I like the attic."

Lisbon scowled, and guessed again. "I just meant now that, well... things are different."

"Now that Red John's ashes are lying anonymously somewhere in a crematorium?" Jane supplied, filling a single 'L' into the puzzle in front of them. "You can say his name you know. I won't have a mental breakdown."

"I didn't think you would," Lisbon said quickly, tapping her pen on the wall behind them. "I just, we have a whole bullpen two floors down," she reminded him. "Where there is actual light, and furniture. Where you have a very nice couch, if you recall."

Jane grinned. "I do recall," he told her, smirking at the woman sitting next to him on their makeshift seat. "But maybe I like it here. And anyway, this room wasn't just for working on the Red John case."

"It wasn't?" she asked sceptically.

Jane shook his head. "No. It's for all kinds of planning and thinking. It's my thinking room, Lisbon."


Jane grinned. "Besides, for someone who claims not to like it, you sure spend a lot of time up here," he pointed out, poking her in the thigh with the end of his pen.

She swatted at his arm with her pain. "I don't hate it," she admitted. "I guess it has its advantages..."

"Like the fact that no one ever comes up here and so we can sit play hangman," Jane supplied.

"I just thought you might want to slowly shift to doing some of this stuff downstairs," Lisbon murmured.

Jane raised an eyebrow at her. "Why would I want to go to the bullpen when you always come up here?"

"To see other people?" Lisbon suggested.

Jane just shrugged.

Lisbon grinned, trying not to look too pleased by the compliment (and its implications).

Jane winked at her.

Lisbon suddenly busied herself with their hangman game. Then she sighed in frustration. "My pen's out of ink," she told him, standing to look for another one.

Jane frowned and watched her scan the room for a second pen (he'd long ago given up suggesting she share his; Lisbon was very adamant about having her own pen for these games). Now she'd gotten up. When she found a satisfactory pen she'd better sit back down exactly where she'd been sitting before. Sometimes she sat across from him instead of next to him, and that just wasn't as good.

"You know, if we were downstairs it'd be easier to find a working pen," Lisbon grumbled, scanning the attic.

"There are plenty of pens up here," Jane told her easily, standing to help her look.

Lisbon started randomly opening drawers trying to find some kind of writing utensil.

Jane didn't give it much thought, until he realized what side of the attic she was on.

"Lisbon!" he said, a trifle panicked.

But he was too late. Lisbon had already pulled open his secret, not-junk-disguised-as-junk, drawer. His secret drawer of memories, their memories. Of his time with her.

Jane tried to distract her with his most casual tone of voice, "Oh, I'm pretty sure there's nothing to write with in there. Don't bother with that stuff. It's nothing, it's just..."

Then he trailed off, suddenly noticing that she'd frozen in place.

Lisbon turned towards him, her eyes practically boring into his. "It's just what?" she asked, her voice low. "What is it, Patrick?"

Jane stared at her, desperately searching her face. For once, words failed him. It didn't even register that she'd called him by his first name, "It's..."

"What?" Lisbon whispered breathlessly, her heart racing.

Jane's eyes widened. "You know what it is," he said, his tone half statement, half wonder.

Then, Jane felt time freeze, up there in the attic. In their own little private spot.

Lisbon knew what the drawer was.

His secret, hidden drawer.

Lisbon understood it somehow. She'd barely even glanced at it, and she... She...

She knew.

Jane took a shaky breath and the world seemed to start again.

Lisbon took a step towards him.

Then another.

"Of course I know," she said hoarsely.

"Good memory," Jane said, trying to joke, and suddenly unsure what to do with his hands.

Surprisingly, that made her smile. "You think you're the only one?" she asked, taking yet another step, trying to ignore her shaking fingers.

Jane suddenly seemed incapable of moving. The world may have started up again, but he was still frozen. Luckily Lisbon didn't have that problem, her steps towards him slow and steady.

"Well, you know how it is," Jane murmured. "The stuff you toss in a drawer."

"The stuff you save," she corrected softly.

Softly but firmly. Jane felt his skin start to tingle at just how sure she seemed to be.

And rightly so.

He couldn't deny it.

He didn't want to deny it.

And maybe, maybe Lisbon didn't want him to. (She was standing right in front of him now.)

"Well," he coughed, awkwardly. "I've always been a bit of a packrat."

"Yeah, that's you," Lisbon said dryly, still smiling (slightly nervously) up at him. "All about the worldly possessions. How long has it been since you bought a new pair of shoes again?"

Jane felt the strangest urge to laugh. "Lisbon..."

"I can't believe you stole my Spice Girls CD," she murmured.

"Yes you can," he replied, finally finding a cautious smile of his own. "Besides, you bought a new one."

Lisbon rolled her eyes at him, "That's not the point!"

"Interesting that you didn't try and deny buying the new CD, dear," Jane said softly, inching closer. He'd used the endearment many times before, but somehow it tasted different on his tongue this time.

"Didn't see the point," Lisbon murmured, biting her lip and watching him.

"I suppose you'd like me to explain..." he said, still softly, wrapping his fingers around her elbow. Not touching her just suddenly seemed no longer feasible.

Lisbon shook her head, shifting closer into his touch.

"You don't need to explain," she assured him just as softly.

Jane mused about how he rarely had to explain to Lisbon, she always just knew. She understood. He finally let himself consider the possibility (one that he'd never let himself consider before) that she might understand this as well.

That was when Jane suddenly closed the remaining twelve inches between them.

And then he was kissing her.

When he felt her lips sliding against his, responding, he reached a tentative hand up to her cheek, letting the other shift down to graze her hip bone.

Lisbon`s movements were just as uncertain. Half afraid to push too hard for fear it would all disappear, she slid one hand up to rest on his shoulder, letting the other land on his side, near his vest pocket.

Very reluctantly, Jane stopped his attempt to determine the exact flavour of her lip gloss and released her, smiling when he realized her eyes were still closed.

She opened them after a moment.

She didn't speak.

He didn't know what to say either.

But Lisbon didn't seem bothered by the silence. After four tension-filled seconds (at least for Jane), she stretched back up on her toes and kissed him a third time, her hands tightening around his shoulder and side.

Jane's left hand shifted to the back of her head, tangling in her hair, while his right slid along her waist, guiding her slightly towards him.

Lisbon willingly let herself relax against him, indicating her pleasure by something between a sigh and a moan.

Jane decided he needed to hear the sound again.

At least daily.

After a much longer moment, Lisbon released him.

Jane watched her bite her lip, his fingers stroking idly along her lower back. He wondered if she'd mind if he stole the lipgloss from her left pants pocket; he'd noticed it earlier. It would make a nice addition to his drawer.

Somehow he thought she might like that.

Which reminded him, he probably owed her some kind of explanation.

Jane rested his forehead against hers, unwilling to give up this newfound proximity. "I know it's a bit well, odd," he said, shrugging self-consciously. "The drawer, but..."

Lisbon didn't let him finish his sentence. Placing a hand on his shoulder she cut him off with another kiss. "It's not odd," she murmured.

Jane blinked at her. Searching her eyes, he tightened his arm around her waist.

Now it was her turn to look slightly self-conscious as she pushed him gently back towards their previous seat, settling them back the way they were earlier. Except not quite the way they were earlier, his brain couldn't help pointing gleefully out as it registered all of the differences. Now she was closer (instead of the feared farther away). Now almost the entire length of her leg was pressed against his. And she was leaning slightly into him, her head ducked under his chin. Jane slid his hand closer to her hipbone, pleased when the move elicited an almost inaudible sigh as she shifted infinitesimally nearer.

"Remember when you told me about your memory palace?" Lisbon murmured. "Years ago."

Her question was surprising enough to shift Jane's focus from her proximity to the words coming out of her mouth. "Of course," he murmured, brushing his nose against her temple. "It was Van Pelt's first case."

Lisbon took a deep breath and tilted her chin up to face him more directly.

Jane pulled back slightly as well, suddenly aware that this was important to her.

Lisbon reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. "I think it's time I told you about mine," she breathed out.

Jane nodded, running his thumb along her knuckles, more than happy to listen.

Lisbon bit her lip again, obviously pleased. Then she gathered her courage around her and started talking, "When I was growing up, my grandparents had this massive old cupboard in their living room..."


The end

Really this time

A/N2: And with that, I am done my holiday fics. 29 fic. 31 days. Two days off. Thank goodness I started writing in October. If I am industrious, I may post a summary post on New Years. Not going to lie, I may not be industrious. Now it is time for my fic break. (Who knows how long that will actually last for...) Look for a possible expansion to Tarot Cards in the New Year. (I would say if there's interest, but let's face it, I'll probably write it at some point regardless of interest, because my muse seems to like the idea. Again, don't judge me.) Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed my holiday fics! I appreciate each and every one (even if I am sometimes slow at replying). I hope you enjoyed the stories. I definitely enjoyed doing them, even if now I need at least a week of absolutely no writing.