Disclaimer for the entire story: I do not own any rights to The Mentalist as they belong to Bruno Heller. No copyright infringements are intended and I am not being paid in any way to write this story.

My Muse is AWOL on the other stories for the present so we're wandering through a darker place that will hopefully lighten before we're done. ~Calla

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Sweeping into the mostly deserted break room to fix her sixth cup of coffee of the day, Lisbon could feel Jane's eyes boring into her. That was the mostly part and she'd had enough with the disapproving stares already. She knew he thought she drank entirely too much coffee. He'd murmured about it for years. He'd even threatened to take action when she'd gone on her last caffeine fueled all-nighter and driven him to distraction though they'd solved the case at the crack of dawn. They'd solved it, meaning her team, with no thanks to Jane since his spidey senses had suddenly gone MIA. Lisbon resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him childishly in response.

Turning her thoughts back to coffee, Lisbon ruminated on the demise of her personal coffee machine earlier in the day. Her beloved top of the line stainless steel number with all the bells and whistles she'd splurged for a month ago. The one in her office no one else dared touch for fear of losing life or limb. The one coming with the stainless steel holder filled with all those neat little cups of flavored coffee she'd always wanted to try. The ones she was thoroughly enjoying with a smattering of cream from her mini-fridge and sugar from her grandmother's antique sugar bowl. She'd been in coffee connoisseur heaven the last five weeks.

Now, she'd been catapulted straight to hell, not purgatory, h-e-l-l. As for her coffee maker, it had suddenly up and died with a painful sputter not two freaking hours ago. She'd stared at it in utter disbelief for a full five minutes then felt like a total idiot for fifteen more. That thing had worked just fine this morning only to go on the fritz not long after she'd noted Jane loitering about suspiciously.

Lisbon ignored the sensible part of her brain reminding her there would have been nothing suspicious about his actions on any other day. Just today, when she suddenly found herself with a dead machine and boxes upon boxes of prepackaged mini tubs of brew that were basically useless for the foreseeable future. Until she lost her mind a second time and bought another one of those elitist coffee makers everyone including Wieseman in Narc coveted. Her charge card would never be the same.

Then again, it was a splurge she couldn't really justify since she could go to the break room like everyone else. Or bring her functional old coffee maker from home. Besides, it was a defenseless machine Jane would probably just melt the insides of when she wasn't looking again. She wasn't sure if he'd done it to royally pee her off because they weren't getting along at the moment or if he'd reacted out of some misguided desire to protect her from herself. Truthfully, she didn't know he'd done it for sure; but, she wasn't going there. She preferred thinking he had. It made the evil Lisbon in her head happier than thinking she'd bought the one defect in the whole store. She was a cop. Her luck was better than that. She knew it was.

An ugly bark of laughter passed Lisbon's lips at the thought the moment she got the first piece of corroborating evidence, that stuffed shirt of a golden haired Jerkosaurus she was staring at was going to wish he was dead. She didn't care what Minelli had to say about it or how he felt about violence between agents. As a consultant, Jane didn't really fall under the protection of that hallowed rule. She knew because she'd checked the all knowing rules and regs book. The way she saw it, after judicious research, was Jane was just a free range chicken while she was a circling hawk waiting to strike when he least expected it. And strike she would.

The moment she got that proof, she was dragging the creep by those floppy golden curls way past needing a cut three weeks ago to the ladies' room where she was going to stuff his head in the nearest toilet and flush again and again until someone saw fit to stop her. Or he drowned. Whichever event came first. Somehow, Lisbon didn't think there would be all that many takers for that particular challenge any time soon.

She mentally tallied the list of everyone who was ticked with Jane at the moment. He'd alienated almost everyone in the office recently and without her smoothing the ruffled feathers, it would take a while for the worm to charm his way back into almost everyone's good graces. She honestly wasn't holding her breath.

LaRoche was disgusted with Jane for sleeping with Lorelei and complicating his dealings with the press. Minelli was put out with him for being unforgivably snarky with a wealthy suspect on a totally different case and refusing to apologize. Jane was on the outs with the team because he'd let her get blindsided by that whole insane "Lover" thing when all he'd had to do was tell her what he'd done. As crazy as it sounded, she would have understood eventually. She always did. Van Pelt hated his guts right now because she knew, being a woman, exactly how deep that betrayal cut.

She, Lisbon, wasn't too happy with Jane because he'd been a dark, cruel s.o.b. lately much as he'd been so long ago when she'd rather effectively stopped his descent in the shadows. Even to her. She hadn't liked that character years ago and she didn't like him now. Not one bit. And because she thought he'd murdered her coffee machine. In her opinion, all of that was more than enough without the Lorelei baggage that wasn't going away. The baggage she wasn't yet ready to look at much less exorcise any time soon.

Swiping the next to the last of the apple glazed Crullers Henderson brought in this morning off the plate, Lisbon knew Jane thought she ate entirely too much sugar too. Well, he could stuff it. This was her first doughnut of the day. Who was he to talk anyway? Though she shared a cup every now and then, or she used to, Lisbon thought Jane drank entirely too much tea. He was such a prissy sissy at times and now was one of them.

"Got something to say, Jane?" Schooling her features into a sterner expression, Lisbon turned to face her consultant. She couldn't resist dipping her doughnut into her cup before taking a bite followed by a long, lip licking gulp of coffee. She smiled at Jane's very visible cringe.

"We both know you drink a little too much of that stuff. Other than that I'm just having my afternoon tea." Lisbon almost laughed out loud at the snippy tone.

The man was so full of it. The next thing he'd do is try to make her feel like their being on the skids was her fault when nothing could be farther from the truth. She wasn't the one who'd slept with Lorelei and thought to hide it. Well, maybe not thought to hide it; but, he'd certainly not been man enough to put on his big boy briefs and own up to what he'd done. Oh, no, he'd preferred to let that foul mouthed harpy spring it on her instead. That whole unpleasant 'Lover' thing she found hard to forgive.

"Yeah, well, you drink at little too much of that stuff, too." Lisbon resisted the urge to do some cringing of her own at how childish they sounded. Like a couple of toddlers facing off across the sandbox shovels in hand.

"Lisbon, honestly, is this what we've been reduced to? We sound like kindergarteners scrapping over a toy." He looked like one, too, with that lost expression on his face.

Feeling the weak part of her beginning to melt, Lisbon forced herself to remember the petulant expression just on his face. She reminded herself quite forcefully that that was the Jane she'd been dealing with the past six weeks. The curt, cutting, waspish Jane she'd gladly let retreat back into himself in favor of self-preservation. She couldn't have stopped him if she'd tried. Not like she had before. Dealing with Lorelei had made him a different man. A difficult man and a man she didn't enjoy being around.

She needed to remember that when he showed hints of vulnerability. When she felt the iceberg in her soul beginning to thaw as a part of her wanted it to. Now wasn't the time. She'd only get hurt a whole lot worse than she'd already been. This Jane wasn't interested in anything but getting Red John and using Lorelei to do it. He'd use every trick in his arsenal and play any game he believed he must. All bets were off when it came to trapping a particular serial killer.

Lisbon wasn't a hundred percent sure Jane couldn't force himself to sleep with Lorelei again if he thought that would get the job done. She wasn't a hundred percent sure some primeval part of him wouldn't enjoy it. Even knowing what he did and the self loathing that would follow. Not that he'd get that opportunity. Everyone knew he wouldn't and not that she truly believed he wanted to. But, the thought still made Lisbon want to puke.

What she did know for certain was Jane would kiss Lorelei smack on the lips and act like he meant it. She'd seen him in action more than once. She absently shook her head at the thought in his current frame of mind Jane would destroy her without meaning to and be sorry after the fact. She wasn't remotely interested in actively participating in any of that.

"Yeah, Jane, at the moment I think it is." Lisbon said as she chewed that last bite of Cruller and swept out of the break room coffee in hand knowing his eyes were following her every move.

Stopping by the bull pen, Lisbon summoned her team into her office for a meeting Jane wasn't invited to. They'd be watching the videos of his latest visit to Lorelei. The visit he'd so recently come back from. It was the way Lisbon spent most of her afternoons. Watching the tapes she'd promised Jane never to watch. She'd known at the time it was a promise she couldn't keep. They'd both known. Reviewing them was part of her job and something she'd always done alone before today.

For some reason, the thought of doing that now seriously turned her stomach so she was doing it surrounded by her team instead. Whatever they saw, Rigsby, Van Pelt, and Cho were adults and they could handle it. Watching her team wriggle out comfortable seats around her desk, Lisbon conveniently ignored the reality there was a reason she watched these videos behind locked doors…she usually broke down before they were done.

Clicking the play button and watching the integration room fill her screen Lisbon reminded herself she wouldn't be doing that today. She couldn't. Her team would kill Jane if she did and, even as angry as she was, she didn't want that to happen. They wouldn't like jail at all.

They really wouldn't.