I do not own The Mentalist and am not profiting from this work of fan fiction

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So far Monday was off to a great start: a witness had already thrown up down the front of Lisbon's shirt, and it wasn't even noon yet. Of course she'd kept her cool the whole time – please, don't worry about it, it's nothing – and continued to wear the shirt after nothing more than a few ineffectual swipes with a damp paper towel.

Unfortunately Jane's latest prank (he had hypnotized a city alderman on a dare from Rigsby) had Lisbon scheduled for a 2 pm chat with Minelli.

Lisbon's comment: "I'm going to need a different shirt for that."

"You really can't even tell," promised Van Pelt earnestly. They all contemplated the brownish stain.

"Maybe," said Lisbon, "But I'm pretty sure I smell. I need to go and buy a new shirt."

"And here I thought you cops always packed a spare," teased Jane. "What happened to being prepared?"

Cho answered for everyone. "That's the boy scouts."

"I do usually keep a change of clothes in my desk," said Lisbon unhappily. "I'm already wearing it. I went for a run this morning and changed when I got here."

"You can borrow mine!" suggested Rigsby. He held up a shirt that could probably fit a linebacker, but definitely not Lisbon.

"Not sure, but I think Minelli would notice that," said Lisbon. "Thanks anyway. I'll be back in ten minutes – Rigsby, go and interview the wife again, I want to hear her thoughts on this missing money. Van Pelt, go with him. Cho, if the brother-in-law gets here before I'm back, keep him on ice. And Jane – keep, uh, napping on the couch."

"You got it, boss!" said Jane brightly, from his usual spot.

Lisbon snagged her jacket from the coat rack in her office, feeling for her wallet in the breast pocket, and headed off in the direction of the elevators. Jane held his position for the count of ten, then leapt to his feet and hurried after her.

The other agents met each others' eyes and then looked away, mutually deciding not to comment.

--

Jane managed to keep sight of Lisbon's brisk little figure, cutting across the street on foot and ducking into a parking garage. He followed her to the building and out onto the street on the other side, where she crossed a parking lot to a shopping center he had never noticed before.

It was a crappy little strip mall, anchored by a Sears and a JC Penny. Jane hung back as she entered the front door of the latter, knowing she would notice him in the open space – then he trotted in after her. He felt a little bit like a stalker, but didn't let that stop him. Ah, there she was – just past the perfume counter. They both had to duck and weave around the strollers and straying children that crowded the center aisle.

Jane was enjoying the opportunity to observe Lisbon's natural behavior in the wild, like those documentaries of animals on the Serengeti filmed with aerial photography. She didn't look left or right as she passed the makeup counter and she cut through the rack of bright-colored dresses without slowing down. Of course she would avoid anything feminine or attractive.

He watched her head for the back wall of the Petites section and thumb through a display of white button-up shirts marked 20 % off.

Well, this was disappointing.

"I think that's the exact same shirt you're wearing," he announced, letting his disapproval read in his voice as he came up from behind her.

Lisbon didn't do anything nearly so entertaining as squealing, jumping, or grabbing her heart. She kept flipping through the rack without turning around. "I didn't know you shopped here," she said neutrally.

"In Petites? Oh yes, you know the sleeves on regular shirts are always too long," he responded, nodding. "I hate having to roll them up." He saw her back stiffen and hid his smile, knowing that she did find regular clothes too long on her.

"And in the women's section, no less."

"It hardly matters, since that shirt has no gender," he informed her, taking it out of her hands. Yup, it was a white button-up with a placket front and single needle top stitching. No doubt it was also machine-washable and wrinkle resistant.

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "There's nothing wrong with that shirt," she said.

"There's nothing right about it, either," said Jane dismissively. With more enthusiasm he continued, "You know what would look nice on you, with your coloring, is something in a jewel tone. You wear too many neutrals."

"Thanks for the tip. But I like neutrals, they're easy to match."

"No, you like variety, you just don't know it yet!"

"I don't like variety. I own the same pair of pants in three colors – black, brown and grey."

"You're killing me here."

Deftly, Lisbon snagged the shirt out of Jane's hands and spun on her (sensible) heels, heading for the check-out counter.

"Aren't you even going to try it on, see if it fits?" Jane wagered, playing for time.

"Why wouldn't it fit," said Lisbon blankly, "it's my size. C'mon, Jane, we don't have all day – that brother-in-law is supposed to come into the office this afternoon and I want to see what he knows."

Shaking his head, Jane trailed after Lisbon like one of the toddlers in the store, stopping to tug on items of clothing as they passed. "Look, Lisbon, this would look great on you!" he held up a dark blue silk shirt with capped sleeves and a ruffled front.

"Let's go, Jane," said Lisbon, not turning around.

"Look at the skirts! I bet you don't even own a skirt."

"I own skirts," she said defensively, over her shoulder. She got in line behind a hirsute woman whose arms were full of very large brassieres. "Definitely at least one. It's black, knee length, a whatchamacallit – pencil skirt."

"Fascinating," said Jane. He stopped to run his hands longingly over a cotton sundress in bright summer colors – orange and yellow. It actually wouldn't have flattered Lisbon (it was cut too low in the waist, he decided) but his wife had worn something similar sometimes, on lazy summer afternoons.

Ignoring the familiar stab of longing, he came to stand next to Lisbon in line. "What about a dress? You must wear something to the Policeman's Ball?" He kept his eye on the racks of clothing and not the rack on the woman in front of them. But he couldn't help glancing over once. Wow, she could actually go up a size, even. What were those bras, DDD's? No, no, those wouldn't do - she needed to be shopping in a specialty store.

"That's not a real event," Lisbon informed him with narrowed eyes, distracting him before he could make up his mind to offer the lady his advice. "Or if it is, I've never been invited. But yes, I have a dress. Navy blue, high neckline. It's nice."

"And shoes?"

"Navy blue pumps."

"Interesting."

"Actually I own the whole thing in black, too," said Lisbon, obviously amused now. "The same dress, same shoes. I have a necklace that goes with it either way."

"You don't want to look great," observed Jane, in wonder, watching the lady pay for the bras she would probably need to return.

"In my position, it's more important to look professional than great," said Lisbon flatly.

As she stepped up to buy her shirt, Jane turned to look back at the blue silk number and tried to imagine her wearing it. It was difficult to picture, actually: it was hard for Jane to imagine Lisbon as a regular woman, doing woman things, with her hair in foils or putting on mascara. He assumed she must participate in such activities – sometimes her hair was wavy and other times straight, so that implied that she spent time styling it, right?

Lisbon accepted her bag from the woman behind the counter and started to walk towards the exit. "Are you coming?"

Jane had to admit he'd lost this battle – in fact Lisbon had abandoned him and was already half-way out the door, having completely ignoring his wardrobe input. But he looked back at racks of clothing and reflected that Christmas was only six months away.