I'm infinitely grateful for all your wonderful reviews! Thank you so much! I'm still afraid this story isn't that good after all, but today I read an interesting quote on twitter: "Fear is the enemy of storytelling." (Miguel Arteta). That ABSOLUTELY rings true, so I'll take a deep breath, suck it up and post the next chapter for you- enjoy!

It might be slightly OOC for the Jane we know to want to find that girl so much, but I stand firmly by my decision. I think he's a good guy, and it would bug him that he'd hurt an innocent. But feel free to tell me if you think otherwise!

Memory Palace

Chapter 3

Lisbon almost smiled when Jane stormed into her office. Yes, it was good to have him back, and she welcomed the slow spread of warmth that wriggled its way into her woebegone heart.

He looked good, and his presence gave her a sense of wholeness she hadn't felt for some time now. And hope came with it.

She would get through all this suffering. And he would still be there, HER Patrick Jane, mocking her, annoying her. Being the center of her life.

"Lisbon" he said urgently "I need your help. I had a girl with me Monday night."

Lisbon felt her insides go icy. Her mind felt numb for a second, not really able to think. She swallowed several times.

"A…a girl?"

"Yes, at the hotel where I've obviously been staying" Jane said, pacing the room restlessly "dark-haired, petite…she left in the morning. Crying, Lisbon. Crying…very much. A porter saw her. I need to know what I did to her. Please, Lisbon- you know I do need to find out, don't you?"

He placed both hands on her desk, leaning over it, his face very close to hers.

Lisbon had no idea what she should do now. Damn. That couldn't be happening. She tried for damage control.

"That's nonsense, Jane" she said firmly "we had you under surveillance the whole time. There was no girl. You were flirting at the pub, but you took nobody home."

She felt his gaze. Slicing through her lie like a laser through butter.

"You've seen her," he stated calmly "Lisbon, I'm not fooling around here. I need to find her."

"There was no girl, damn you."

"You're lying." he pressed out between gritted teeth "What do you think, Lisbon? Jane had his fun, a little harmless one-night-stand and we never tell him? I made her cry, Lisbon. I made her cry. I'm not a monster, damn you. I need to find her."

Lisbon averted her gaze. Damn for the man being a walking lie detector. And she was a bad liar to begin with.

Jane put his hand beneath her chin and made her face him. His touch felt like an electrical shock, jolting through her system like a sharp, stinging pain. She felt the heat grow. Her eyes getting haunted, feverish.

"Don't you understand, Lisbon" he said, his voice much softer now "I'm not like this. I might have been a cheat and a liar, but I…I'm not like this anymore. And- it's important for me not to be like that. I don't want to hurt anybody- I caused enough pain to last me several lifetimes. I can't add this to my personal pile of debris…I need to find this woman and try to find out what I did. Okay, I have a strong hunch about what I did- but I have to know …how bad it was. It could be really bad, Lisbon. I remember nada. Even if I just said something really nasty...I want her to know that- that wasn't me. Please, help me. Help me find her. You will help me, won't you, Lisbon? You always help me. You're my avenging angel. My shield and sword. Help me. Please. I thought I could live with not knowing. I can't. Help me."

Lisbon looked at him and tried to bite back the tears.

And damn- she knew he noticed.

"Lisbon," he whispered- low. Threatening. "tell me the truth. Now."

"It was me, okay? It was me, and I'm fine." Oh no, why in hell had she just said that?

"I can see that you're not fine, Lisbon." He said softly "and if it was you…damn, it was you."

He could see it in her eyes. She couldn't lie to him. He read the truth without any difficulties. Like he always did.

"Why have you been crying?" he breathed "What have I done to you?"

She could see the anguish in his eyes. She had known how deeply she had fucked up the moment she'd left the hotel. Had known that she couldn't stop the disaster that was certain to follow. And maybe this was what she deserved for indulging her cravings. For giving in to a longing she had hidden so deep inside her she had almost forgotten all about it. Almost. But not quite.

"I haven't been crying" she stalled, futilely, but she had to try "the porter was wrong."

He straightened and looked at her with a mixture of incredulity and disappointment on his face. His beautiful, expressive face.

"How long do we know each other, Lisbon?" he growled "Don't you dare to lie to me- it's demeaning for both of us."

She got up, turned her back on him and was almost floored by the wave of dizziness that grabbed her whole body.

"You…you said some mean things, okay?" she hissed "But…you weren't yourself, and I'm…I'm okay now. Everything's fine, really."

The silence behind her was like a brick wall, thick, impenetrable. She turned slowly and saw Jane pacing the room again, pushing his hands through his hair.

"Oh my god." He whispered, his eyes wide with shock and confusion "Oh my god, we… I…I woke up with this terrible headache and had no idea where I was. The bed was disheveled, I was sticky and smelled like sex…oh my god. Tell me it didn't happen."

"It didn't happen, Jane."

"Oh my god. What have we done?"

xxMentalistxx

His tea cup was rattling on the saucer, Jane's hands were shaking that much.

He hated it. Hated the amnesia. The murderer who had attempted to kill him. Hated himself for being the most disgusting failure he knew.

He snorted. Damn, Jane, get a grip. Okay, you had sex with the boss. You're both adults, you obviously didn't rape her. So how bad can it be?

Why was his mouth so dry all the tea in the world wouldn't be able to get rid of the sensation?

He just couldn't believe that he didn't remember anything. Couldn't accept it. He'd wrecked his brain for hours, tried every trick in the book to make him remember.

Her skin. He had kissed her. And he didn't know her taste. Had it been good for her? No- he shouldn't think about this.

He chuckled humorlessly. He knew full well that he couldn't stop thinking about it.

She had refused to tell him why she'd cried when she had left in the early morning hours. But there was no need to spell it out: he could read minds, couldn't he? Yeah. He could read hers. And damn, was she a bad liar.

He'd never wanted to hurt her. Never. He'd felt safe under her protection. She had looked out for him, stopped him from doing stupid things. They were a team.

He sighed. Longing tore at his heart, its lure so bittersweet he wanted to cry. Glimpses into a future that would never be.

He placed the teacup on his desk and lay down on the couch, looking at the Elvis-shaped spot on the ceiling.

He remembered the soft tune Charlotte had hummed when she'd played with her dolls in the hallway, her blond curls pulled back into a ponytail. He'd hated it when her stuff cluttered the hallways, but he could never deny her anything. She'd been pure and sweet. As beautiful as her mother. As stubborn as himself. And her little body had been warm and soft when she'd snuggled up against him in the evening while he had read her a story. Jack, the willful bunny. Her favorite book.

He closed his eyes on a sad smile. As usual, he had to force himself not to connect his sweet memories of them to the gruesome images of their corpses. He clenched his hands to stop his mind from wandering to the brutal pictures. To the sight that would continue to destroy him to the day he died.

Love had fled his life that day. Forever, and the verdict was irrevocable. He had lost the right to love. And he would honor the memory of his beloved ones by staying alone. He couldn't fall for Lisbon. His angel with the flaming sword.

So why did his chest hurt as if he had a heart attack? Why could he sleep even less than before the assault that caused the fateful memory loss?

Why was he constantly wondering, asking- how had her touch felt on his skin? How had her kiss tasted? Which sounds had she made in the throes of her passion? Had he satisfied her? Or had she fled from his room longing and unfulfilled?

His eyes snapped open.

He knew she hadn't been sated. Hadn't been happy. Had cried because he had broken her heart. Because he couldn't give back the love that shone in her eyes, sparkled there even now, when he'd obviously managed to royally screw up. Love for him. The most worthless bastard he knew.

Confusion and heart-ache made him get up. He had to find out what it was he was feeling. Because his exceptional observational skills tended to leave him when he needed them to take a closer look at his own emotions.

Better not to feel at all, hadn't his past taught him as much?

Why had he broken this most important rule of all?

He moved to the window and looked out over a wintery Sacramento, his shoulders hunched against a cold that didn't permeate the room. But he felt it everywhere inside him, the frozenness, numbness. The bleakness of a dull winter night.

He hurt so much. Hurt like he'd never thought he could hurt again, feelings a tumbled mess inside his head, and he wasn't used to confusion, hated it to be swept under the surf.

For a moment he indulged thoughts of being an ordinary guy. Taking her out to dinner, and damn, finding out what her taste was like. The smell of her hair. How her soft lips relented under the pressure of his kiss.

He closed his eyes and swallowed several times.

Because that was exactly what he couldn't do: allow agent Lisbon to get under his defenses.

When he looked up again, he could almost believe that he wasn't feeling anything. But no matter what- the time had come when Patrick Jane needed to talk.

He walked CBI's hallways slowly and entered the lift with a sigh. Who would have thought it would ever come to this?

Okaaaaaay, next chapter up TOMORROW! Thank you so much for your support!

One last word about Jane wanting to find the girl because he needs to know what he has done- Bruno Heller said that the audience, watching Jane stealing and seducing (in ep.4.10), would realize how much integrity Jane has gained after the tragedy…I did realize that long before: I think Jane is basically a very good person, and he has lots of integrity. He is a master in disguising his "goodness", but it's there. So for me, it makes sense that he wouldn't want to hurt an innocent bystander.

That said- see you tomorrow :D!