A/N: So, here it is, as promised, the continuation of my long-ago one-shot. You might want to go back and read chapter 1, which is the original tag, to refresh your memory. This picks up the Monday after Jane's drunken pass at Lisbon. Enjoy!

Chapter 2: Monday, Monday

Monday morning in the CBI HQ found the Serious Crimes Unit busily finishing up the reports for the Nurse Bloom arrest.

"Boy, Jane was sure smashed Friday night," Rigsby said conversationally between bites of cruller.

"I've never really seen him drink before," added Van Pelt. "He seemed like a happy drunk. I figured he would be one of those dark and tortured drunks, given his history."

"No, that's Cho," said Rigsby. "Or should I say, Mr. Morose."

"You've never seen me drunk," Cho countered in his usual monotone.

"I've seen you knock a few back. You become even quieter than usual."

Cho just shook his head and began typing in earnest, a small smile hovering about his lips. In fact, the last time he'd allowed himself to lose control enough to get drunk, he'd sung "YMCA" at a Karaoke bar and took two waitresses back home with him for an encounter that even now made his stomach clench with remembered desire. But that was long before he'd met Rigsby, and Cho didn't think his partner would be able to handle that particular tale.

It was at that moment that Patrick Jane made his grand entrance, his usual pleasant morning grin lighting the room. Van Pelt could never stop herself from smiling in return.

"Morning, Grace. How was your weekend?"

"Oh, it was great! Craig and I went to Napa and stayed at the sweetest B and B."

Jane didn't have to look to feel Rigsby tense up and focus with exaggerated gusto on his own report.

"Sounds lovely," Jane said, meaning it. He glanced at the two men. "Gentlemen," he said by way of greeting, and received a chorus of "Jane," in return. He looked toward Lisbon's office, noting that the blinds were closed.

"Lisbon here yet?" he asked.

"Yeah. I think she's in a meeting with LaRoche," Van Pelt supplied helpfully. Jane nodded his thanks and made his way toward her office to wait. He planned to thank Lisbon for helping him home and apparently tucking him in. He also was hoping she'd fill in some of the blanks from the blackout he'd experienced. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd missed out on something important, and he hoped she wasn't too angry to tell him.

They'd exchanged texts Saturday afternoon, but it had been terse and impersonal.

R U OK?

Fine. Head aches.

Sorry.

And that had been it. She hadn't replied to any of his other texts or calls, which had only confirmed that she was uncomfortable with something he'd done. He'd contemplated going by her apartment, or even coming in to HQ, but he decided he'd wait and see if he remembered Friday night on his own. As of that morning, he had not, and he'd experienced enough blackouts to know that he would have to write it off as lost time.

He entered her empty office, surveying the neat stacks of paper on her desk, the large white couch that looked by the rumpled blanket and haphazard throw pillows that it had been recently slept on. Absently, he picked up the blanket and began to fold it. If Jane were totally honest with himself, he was a little afraid to see her. But it was Monday now, and the last thing he wanted was for things to be uncomfortable or tense between them. He valued their working relationship above all others, and he was willing to swallow some pride and face her so they could get back to normal, or their version of such.

He'd just settled onto Lisbon's now neatly arranged couch when she entered through the office door he'd purposefully left open; it was never a good idea to take a cop by surprise. She came up short when she saw him, and a telltale blush stole over her pretty face, her full mug of coffee sloshing dangerously against the sides. Her eyes brushed fleetingly over his features, no doubt taking in the slight blackening beneath his eyes which he figured was a byproduct of his aching nose. Her blush deepened even more at the sight. His sore nose was another mystery he hadn't been able to decipher; all he knew was that it had felt suspiciously like all the times he'd been punched in that location. Her eyes skittered away from his, and she covered her awkwardness by sitting in her chair, setting down her steaming cup, and getting right to work, her dark hair falling forward over her pink cheeks.

Jane's mouth went dry, and he felt the unfamiliar heat in his own face. He swallowed.

This was bad.

"Good morning, Lisbon," he said brightly, hoping to set them both at ease by acting normal. "How was your weekend?"

"Fine," she said. So they were back to terse.

Jane stared at her, trying to use all of his skills of observation to figure out what was going on in that mysterious brain of hers. That she was embarrassed by his presence was painfully obvious. It was the why that bothered him. Well, he thought, at least she's not angry. But anger was an emotion of Lisbon's that he was familiar with, that he knew how to handle. This discomfiture was another matter entirely. It was one thing if he'd intentionally made her blush, like when he pretended to read her mind or bought her unexpected, extravagant gifts. It was quite another when he had no idea what he'd done to cause it.

"Well, I just wanted to thank you for driving me home Friday night. I was pretty out of it."

"You're welcome," she said, eyes still on the computer screen. Jane sighed, deciding there was no other way to get past this than to just rip off the Band-Aid.

"So, what exactly did I do to make you so uncomfortable, Lisbon? Did I dance on any tables? Do a strip tease in the parking lot?"

Her eyes flew to his. "You uh, don't remember anything?"

"No."

Instantly, he caught the relief on her face, and she genuinely laughed. "No, nothing like that. You uh, relieved yourself in a cactus bush, but other than that, you were just a more giggly version of yourself."

Cactus, eh? He shifted uncomfortably. Well, that explained that particular mystery he'd discovered first thing Saturday morning. Then a mortifying thought occurred to him.

"You didn't see, uh—"

"No," she replied quickly. "I didn't see anything at all. You were in the bushes."

Jane's eyes narrowed. She was hiding something. "What else did I do?"

"Nothing. I got you home, helped you into bed, left you some aspirin, and then I left. End of story."

"You're lying, Teresa."

She shrugged innocently. "Well, you did throw up in your bathroom, but that's about it."

"Any idea why my nose throbs like it was on the other end of one of your famous right hooks?"

As good as she was at hiding her thoughts, Lisbon hadn't mastered the art of biofeedback where her blushes were concerned. "You ran into a door," she said quickly, reaching down to take a shaky sip of her coffee.

"You're lying," he repeated softly. "You should know better than that with me."

"I told you everything important that happened, Jane. I guess you'll just have to take my word for it." She faced him boldly now, confident that he hadn't been toying with her, that he truly had no memory of what had transpired that night. Jane was surprised at his sudden anger. As hypocritical as it was coming from him, he hated when important information was kept from him.

"If you're hiding something from me, I'll figure it out eventually. I was hired to sniff out the guilty parties, remember? And I'll do it in this case too, even if the guilty one turns out to be me."

She was startled at his outburst, but anger was an emotion she understood too. Her eyes went cold, and she regarded him warily. "Be careful what you wish for, Jane. Now, if you'll excuse me, these reports are due by two." She nodded toward the door, and he realized he was being dismissed like a punished child sent home from the principal's office. Jane rose from the couch and stalked out of her office, marching to the bullpen past the curious gazes of his colleagues.

He practically threw himself down on his own couch, laying flat and closing his eyes in consternation, effectively shutting himself off from any prying questions. His three teammates looked at each other in surprise, wondering how in the world a five minute conversation with the boss could have made Jane so put out. But put out he was, and they all figured it was best they not disturb him in this mood. They only saw him this way when Red John was a factor, and it occurred to them that maybe Lisbon had given him some new information that had brought up his ire. Each of them expected their boss to come out of her office at any moment and give them the bad news, but several minutes elapsed with no sign of her, so they relaxed and became caught up again in their work.

Jane lay still, willing his heartbeat to slow and his anger to abate. When he was much calmer, he began to analyze his overreaction to Lisbon's lies. He supposed he was hurt more than anything. He thought they were closer than that, friends even. Maybe even best friends. If he had done something untoward, he had a right to know, didn't he? If only so he could mend things between them. But she seemed satisfied that he'd forgotten the incident. No, he amended. Relieved was the better word.

Then her warning began to sink in. Be careful what you wish for.

Now what the hell could she have meant by that? Was what he'd done so terrible that he should be glad he couldn't remember? No way. This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all. Jane was promptly thrown into familiar obsession mode. He had to know or it would haunt him forever. He considered self-hypnosis, but he had never been able to do it effectively. He was too aware, too conscious of himself to get to that state where he could let everything go and delve into his hidden psyche. Frankly, the idea scared him a little; what he knew of his own psyche was terrifying. He could bring himself to a state of extreme relaxation, but his pain and depression ran too deep for him to help himself. He'd tried more times than he could count to make himself forget, so he very much doubted he could find a way to make himself remember.

While self-hypnosis was out, he did have another option, and as the idea took hold, a grin overtook his face, and he felt himself relaxing at the thought. While he might not be susceptible to hypnosis, he knew a certain petite brunette who was highly suggestible, given the right setting and technique. He'd done it before. Jane had no doubt he'd be able to do it again.

Okay, Teresa. If you won't tell me the truth, I have ways of making you talk.

As he contemplated this idea, hashed out the details of his plan, the morning slipped by swiftly, and he even snuck in a brief nap.

A/N: Be careful what you wish for, indeed, Jane. Hope you like this new beginning. Next up, Lisbon's reaction to Jane's reaction. Please let me know what you think!