A/N: Here we go again. I'm aiming for only five chapters, as I am running out of time for the challenge. If I had the internet at home, mother, the whole fic would probably be published already and I wouldn't have to worry about deadlines. Anyhow, in this installment, we find out more about Daren and Christie. Jello at the end, because I love ya!

Disclaimer: List of things I don't own: the rights to The Mentalist, the internet, a car, Simon Baker, a llama, Hollister (the store or the city)… need I go on?

Warnings: OOC and language.


Lisbon sat on her bed, crying yet again and for almost the same reason. But this was different. Her mind flashed back to the crime scene once more, making the tears fall faster.

Local police cruisers are everywhere, lights flashing and radios buzzing. They don't need to be here, but Lisbon isn't in the mood to argue with the sheriff at the moment.

As they walk to the body, a man introduces himself as Officer Ryan Scott. He's the one who discovered the body, having come upon it while driving through town. It was a John Doe, however: no identification on him, no criminal record. And no witnesses.

"Right around here," Officer Scott says, leading them around a corner. They can now see the victim. "We did have to move the body—"

Lisbon interrupts him with a choked cry. She rushes to the man dead on the ground, bleeding from a single gunshot to the head, and kneels beside him. Taking his upper body in her arms, she whispers, "Daren, oh, Daren, I'm so sorry," and begins to sob. Two officers immediately try to pull her away, but she snarls at them, a wild look in her eyes, and they back off.

Jane walks up and kneels beside her, putting his hand gently on her shoulder. He says nothing, but his presence is enough.

Lisbon howls as if she were dying in some horribly painful way. She blames herself for Daren's death; she never should have left. But she had been a coward then.

She finally calms down enough to tell Officer Scott that the victim is Daren Hawthorne, age 35. Then she leaves without another word. Not even Jane follows her.

So here she was: alone, half-blind from all the tears she had cried, and feeling like the world was going to end. Hollister had taken Christie and now Daren. Was she next? Lisbon wished she could have prevented both their deaths, but she hadn't been there when either had happened. She just kept letting all the people she loved down.

Is Jane included in that group? a little voice in her head whispered. Lisbon had no answer. She hadn't thought about it because she already had so much to worry about. Did she love Jane? Did he love her? He had covered the kiss with his, "Your wish is my command," but that was just it. She had wanted him to kiss her. Why?

A sharp knock at the door startled her. A piece of paper slid into the room through the space between the door and the carpet. Cautiously, Lisbon rose from the bed and picked the paper up. It was a note.

Teresa,

I'm alive. Find me.

Christie

This wasn't a joke. Lisbon could feel it. Christie's alive. She's alive… She flung open the door, but no one was there. Not even a footprint. Damn. How was she supposed to find her if there weren't any directions? Van Pelt could do a search, but there could be fifty Christina Smiths in Hollister. Maybe… maybe Jane could do his Jane thing. Like get a… something… whatever. It was worth a shot.

But first, she really needed a shower. She began walking to the bathroom, getting ready to pull off her shirt, but stopped when she heard something. It sounded like a scream.

All personal problems forgotten (for the moment), Lisbon was immediately in agent-mode. Walking quickly to the door, she put her ear against it, trying to hear something else. Another scream, some scuffling, and… Jane?

Lisbon threw open the door to see Jane being smacked repeatedly by a tiny woman, who apparently was staying in the room directly across the hall.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry—ow!—I thought—ow!—woman, calm yourself—ow!"

"Jane, get over here!" Lisbon hissed.

He turned and scurried inside, cowering behind her. She closed the door and faced him.

"Women can be…" He trailed off when he saw her face. "Oh, Lisbon," he said softly.

She ignored him, putting her hands on her hips and raising an eyebrow. "Why was that woman out there screaming?" she asked.

"I thought it was your room," he answered simply.

"You picked the lock."

"Well, I knew you wouldn't let me in if I didn't—"

"What if I had been changing?" Lisbon demanded. She had been about to undress for her shower! Blushing slightly, she continued. "You can't do things like that, Jane."

But Jane wasn't listening. He was looking at her strangely, and his eyes didn't seem to be on her face…

"Jane?" It was almost the same look he had given her in the car before he had kissed her. But it was almost…hungry. "Jane, you look like an idiot. Knock it off."

His eyes moved back to meet hers. "Go take your shower. You need it."

Lisbon didn't ask questions; she wasn't sure she wanted answers. She hurried to the bathroom, and, just before she closed the door, said, "Pick the lock on this door, and you'll wish that I'd left you out there with that woman."

"Yes, ma'am."

She knew he'd want to talk when she came back, but she didn't know how many more of their "talks" she could handle. She also knew that he was just trying to help, but he was going about it the wrong way. Even he should know that. For now she would just prolong her shower as long as possible. Jane had been thinking about what would have happened if he had walked in on her and she had been half-naked, and he had liked what his mind had come up with.

A month ago, she would have been entirely freaked out about this, but now, she wasn't so sure.


A/N: Oh, I almost forgot: for those of you who have seen it, how TOTALLY AWESOME was Blood Money? My mind wouldn't let me stop thinking that a little something-something happened that they didn't show. Grrr…

Please review! (And I won't be offended if you tell me I'm weird and I talk too much.)