The white china teacup
"I can't believe he's actually dead. Red John died of lung cancer. It's more than ironic… it's insane."
Lisbon kept on stroking his hair. "Well, it's over anyway. It's really over this time."
"I… I don't know what to think – or what to do, for that matter."
"Then just stop thinking about it, Jane."
Reluctantly she left him alone for a moment – retreating into the kitchen in order to fetch his tea. When she was back she noticed his fingers skimming over the armrest of the sofa.
"I just hope you didn't fall for my sofa", she threw in as a joke. "Your old couch would be jealous otherwise."
A smile slowly lit up his eyes. "I don't mind. I like it."
"Come on. You'd never cheat on your faithful leather couch."
"Don't tempt me."
He was staring intently at her now – and suddenly she wasn't so sure whether they were still talking about pieces of furniture.
"Here's your tea."
As he took the white cup from her hands his fingers purposely brushed against hers. "Thank you, Lisbon."
A slight blush spread over her cheeks. "You're welcome."
She sat down next to him. Neither of them talked for a remarkably long time.
Then all of a sudden Jane broke the silence. "I like your apartment too."
Her lips twitched in an amused smirk. "I'm glad to hear that."
He carefully placed the china teacup – a beautifully crafted one, his mind vaguely noted – on the coffee table just beside him.
"I feel safe here."
For some inexplicable reason, she was unable to find a proper reply. That simple remark had deeply moved her somehow.
"Thank you for what you've done for me, by the way. I might even have to thank Wainwright as a matter of fact."
"You don't have to, Jane – not as far as I'm concerned, at the very least."
"I'm sorry you actually didn't spend your vacation with an handsome and stinking rich man though."
"Well, I don't know about rich, but I was beginning to appreciate Luther's company along the way."
That made her laugh. "What? Mature women might find his childlike candor rather attractive."
"I understand. Are you going to mother me as well in the near future, by any chance?"
Again she had a feeling that he was only half-joking. His eyes were actually searching her own.
"Would you like that?", she asked on a sudden impulse.
"Well, maybe", was all she got by way of an answer – a moment before he lured her into his arms.
Perhaps he was going to take Red John's final advice after all…