A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to get back to this fic, but as you might have noticed, I've been working on two other projects this week, lol. Thanks as always for the lovely reviews. I hope you continue to enjoy this fic.

Chapter 4

"Tell me, Mr. Lewis, did you sexually molest your daughter?"

Sitting on the couch in John and Terry Lewis's upper class home, Teresa felt like melting into the floor.

"What did you say?" sputtered the middle-aged man. Beside him on the opposing damask settee, his wife gasped.

"Dr. Jane," growled Teresa, too far away on their couch to kick him. "I apologize," she rushed to say to the Lewis's. "He's just a consultant, as I said, and new at working with witnesses."

"It's a simple question," said Jane politely, picking up the cup of tea the maid had just filled. He met the forty-something woman's eyes and smiled his thanks. The woman looked quickly away, startled at his pleasant expression after the bombshell question he'd just dropped. She finished with her duties and high-tailed it out of the tension-filled room.

"The kidnapper is usually someone the child is close to, isn't that right, Agent Lisbon?"

"Yes," she said tightly.

"I'm fairly certain that you as Bethany's parents were the first to be investigated."

The couple looked at Teresa. She blushed. "Yes, I'm afraid that's standard procedure," she admitted. "But you were cleared," she reassured them, directing a warning glare at Jane.

"Then why are you back here asking insulting questions?" asked Mr. Lewis. "We thought you might have some news, or we certainly wouldn't have subjected ourselves to such insults."

"We've brought Dr. Jane in to hopefully garner some new insight. I'm afraid we've reached a dead—uh, a brick wall."

Jane smiled at her near slip, and Teresa was tempted to move closer to him so she could do much more than kick him.

Mrs. Lewis, a woman much younger than her husband, turned her face into Lewis's sleeve and cried softly.

"I didn't ask if you'd kidnapped her," said Jane pointedly. "I asked if you'd molested her." Mrs. Lewis wailed anew.

"I think it's time for you two to leave, Agent Lisbon," said Lewis, rising to his feet, wrapping his arm around his sobbing wife. "And don't come back unless you have a concrete lead about Bethany. Louisa," he roared, "show our guests to the door!"

The maid scurried in, pausing midway between the living room door and Jane and Teresa, who were standing as well.

"This way, please," she said, her accent heavy.

Jane and Teresa followed her to the door, stepping outside onto the front porch. Before Louisa could shut it behind them, Jane put his foot in the door and met her eyes.

"Thank you, Louisa," he said sincerely. He saw a hint of fear there, then she nodded and Jane removed his foot.

"What the hell good did that do?" asked Teresa, when they were back inside the company SUV. "We'll never be welcome there again!"

"The maid has Bethany stashed somewhere," said Jane calmly.

Teresa turned her head so fast Jane wondered idly if she'd have whiplash.

"What? We've already checked out all the employees that work at the Lewis house."

"Did you go to their homes?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," she replied defensively. "Louisa was clean."

"How about the homes of their relatives?" asked Jane.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Jane, but we don't have the time or manpower to send someone to every relative of every suspect."

"But you should have with Louisa there. Didn't you see how frightened and tense she was?"

"Lewis is a blowhard," explained Teresa, starting the vehicle and pulling out through the gates at the end of the driveway. "I'd be tense to work for him too. Besides, she's still there working for him."

"She needs the job," said Jane. "She's left Bethany with someone she trusts. A mother, an aunt…"

"But why would she take her? She could see the girl every day."

"You saw how she reacted when I asked if Lewis had molested her…"

Teresa's eyes widened. "You think she took the girl away to protect her from her own father? There's no proof of that—you just have a hunch, at best."

"Get the addresses of all of Louisa's nearby relatives, and you'll find your proof, I guarantee it, and the sooner the better. As a matter of fact, I'd bet that right now Louisa is inside calling whomever has Bethany to check on her."

Teresa hesitated.

"You're wasting time," said Jane softly. "You have to trust me on this."

She met his eyes, and saw that for the first time since she'd met him, he seemed absolutely serious.

She drove a few moments in silence, then pulled her cell phone from her blazer jacket pocket and called Cho.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You sure you don't need backup?" asked Jane, looking a little nervously around the sketchy neighborhood in East Sacramento.

"We're just questioning them. If I see anything suspicious, we'll leave and call for the rest of the team and SacPD."

"Okay," he said mildly, "you're the expert."

"That's right. Now, let me do the talking, at least at first, all right? You piss someone off in this neighborhood, it won't be the maid escorting us out, got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said wryly.

She shot him a warning glance and knocked on the barred door.

A woman in her late thirties came to the door, but didn't open the barred glass that stood between them.

"Are you Maria Ramirez? Louisa's sister?"

"Who are you?" she asked.

Teresa held up her badge. "Teresa Lisbon, CBI. This is, uh, Dr. Jane."

"What do you want?"

"Ma'am, we need to ask you a few questions. May we come in?"

"You're the police?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"She's got a gun and everything," Jane added.

"Look we're not from immigration-this is about another matter. Now, you can invite us in, or we'll have SWAT knock down your door."

In that moment, Jane found Teresa almost unbearably sexy.

After another hesitation, the woman opened the door. Teresa and Jane followed her inside to a living room, shabby, though neat as a pin. On the floor by the couch were two small suitcases.

"Going somewhere?" Jane asked.

"May we sit?" asked Teresa, when Maria Ramirez didn't answer.

"I have to go to work in a few minutes."

"This won't take long. Where do you work?" asked Teresa.

"No, let me guess," said Jane. "You work at a daycare."

"Yes. How did you know that?"

"We did our research," said Teresa, barely succeeding in not rolling her eyes at Jane.

"Where's Bethany?" asked Jane suddenly. He'd seen how Maria was glancing toward the hallway nervously, and getting more and more agitated the longer they were there.

Maria's hesitation was just a beat too long to be innocent. "Who?"

Jane nodded his head toward the hallway. "She's down there," he told Lisbon.

"What?" Teresa's hand went to her sidearm, as she looked toward the hallway in alarm.

"She's down that hall, I'm telling you," he replied, agitated himself.

Something clicked deep within Teresa, something that made her trust him, almost blindly.

"Is Bethany here, Maria?"

The woman was shaking her head rapidly from side to side, wordless.

"I'm gonna have to ask you to lead me down the hall," said Teresa.

"No," she pleaded tearfully. "Don't take her back to that man."

"We'll do what's best for her, I promise. Now, lead the way."

Jane wasn't waiting. He moved quickly, albeit gracefully past the two women, feeling compelled to find this girl himself.

"Jane!" Teresa called, falling back on the CBI habit of referring to coworkers by their last names. She turned to Maria, pulling out her gun. "Go!"

At the end of the short hallway, a single door was open, and Maria and Jane followed him inside. He was kneeling on the floor beside a little girl, around three, who was playing with her Barbie dolls. Teresa recognized her from her picture immediately.

She pulled Maria out of the doorway, out of sight of the little girl who had been in her care for two weeks.

"You're under arrest," she said quietly, retrieving her handcuffs from her belt. She escorted Maria outside to the SUV, where she slid her into the backseat and locked her in to await backup. She looked up to see Jane on the other side of the barred door of the Ramirez home, holding Bethany's little hand, a brilliant smile upon his handsome face.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You did so many things wrong in there, that if we had any witnesses, this thing could get thrown out of court."

"Are you kidding me?" said Jane. "We got that little girl back. What else do you want?"

"There are certain procedures, protocols—"

"Meh, this is why there are so many missing children in the world."

"Now that's not fair. These laws were put here to protect people. My team and I do our very best."

Teresa pulled the SUV up in front of Jane's office, where she'd picked him up earlier that morning. She realized she might have sounded a bit too harsh, so she turned in her seat to look at him straight on.

"Dr. Jane, don't get me wrong. What you did back there, how you managed to figure out where Bethany was—that was brilliant, really. And I share in her parents' gratitude—"

"I don't want gratitude," he bit out coldly. "I want that bastard whose been molesting her to go to prison."

Lisbon sighed. "Bethany will be with Child Services until a full investigation can be completed. But to be honest, it'll be hard to take the word of a kidnapper."

"Jesus," he said, his hand sliding through his hair in frustration, "no wonder you feel like you need a shrink, having to deal with this kind of crap on a daily basis. Hell, I'd be drinking too."

She looked at him a moment, shocked at his hurtful words and his vehemence in saying them. He caught her expression, and his face softened.

"I'm sorry, Teresa. You're right—I'm being unfair, and maybe a little harsh."

"A little?" she said tightly. "Thanks for your help. The CBI greatly appreciates it."

She pointedly unlocked his door.

"You're mad," he said, uncharacteristically stating the obvious.

"Wow, you are good. If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work."

"I said I was sorry. I got caught up in the drama of the situation. It infuriates me to see a child ill-treated. Forgive me…please?"

She made the mistake of looking at him again. A pleading Patrick Jane was almost as irresistible as a smiling, charming one. And then he reached over to touch her hand, which was gripping the steering wheel like a vise.

"I'll see you Friday for your session," he said hopefully.

She smirked involuntarily at his audacity. Before she could protest, or answer at all, for that matter, he'd gotten out of the vehicle, and with a sunny smile, waved before going to his door.

"Asshole," she said to herself as his blonde head disappeared inside his office. But she was smiling when she said it.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So," said Jane, four days later. "How was the rest of your week?" He gave her a wide, knowing smile, noting that she really wasn't angry with him anymore.

Teresa sat in her usual spot on the couch, pillow protectively in her lap. "A pediatrician examined Bethany," she said gravely. "There is evidence of long-standing sexual abuse. It'll be difficult to prove it was Lewis though."

"Did his wife move out yet?" Jane asked, immediately sobered by her statement.

"Yeah—how did you know? She left so she could get Bethany back. She put a restraining order on her husband."

He nodded in satisfaction. "Good."

"You know," said Teresa tentatively, "law enforcement hires consultants all the time to give insight into cases. You're good at what you do. It's a gift. Could we call on you again sometime?"

"And what will Minelli think of that?"

She blushed. "I had to break down and tell him what happened, how you helped. The kidnapping was big news, as was our solving of the case. It was Minelli's idea to extend you the offer."

Jane's eyebrow shot up. "Not yours, eh?"

She blushed. "You're my psychologist," she said. "I think it would be too complicated to combine work with uh…this." She gestured helplessly at the room in general.

"Hmmm," he said. "You're probably right. Let's get back to work on you. How's the drinking been this week?"

Her eyes widened. "I haven't had a drink since last Friday at O'Malley's," she said in some surprise.

Jane smiled. "See? Something new came into your life, shook it up a bit. And you successfully tied up a case. You're not an alcoholic, Teresa, you've just had a case of ennui."

"Someone," she countered.

"Hm?"

"Someone new came into my life." She looked him boldly in the eye, and he swallowed hard at her unmistakable admiration.

"It didn't have to be me," he said, forcing himself to keep a neutral expression. "It could have been anyone or anything new to spice things up a little. Now, it's your job to get out there and attract new people and experiences into your life. You have plans for tonight?"

Now why did that sound like I was asking her out? he thought, struggling with his poker face.

"Well, actually, the guys wanted me to contact you and invite you to Luigi's to celebrate the closing of the Lewis case-they have great pizza. You game?"

He dropped the mask and looked at her honestly, no longer ignoring the hum of attraction between them.

"Do you really think that is a good idea, Teresa?"

"No," she said. "But I'm inviting you anyway. You wanted me to work on getting out of my comfort zone. Well, that's what I'm doing. Call it…extra credit homework."

He chuckled—he couldn't help it. "All right. But it's all in an effort to advance your therapy, agreed?"

She smirked. "Whatever you say, Dr. Jane."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Apparently, the guys had scored last-minute tickets to an Oakland A's game, so they barely had time to scarf down a couple slices, toast Jane with a beer, and head off to Oakland. They hadn't invited Lisbon because they knew she found baseball tedious. She was more of a football or basketball fan, or even hockey, so she had no hard feelings about being left in the lurch. Besides, with them gone, she was alone once more with Jane, and to her, that was infinitely more entertaining than any competitive sport.

"So tell, me, Dr. Jane, how do you usually spend your Friday nights?" She took a drink of her beer and grinned at his sudden tense expression.

"Wait—let me guess."

His face relaxed into his familiar grin.

"Okay, this should be interesting. Shoot."

She cocked her head a little, feeling the slow buzz of her third beer. She wasn't drunk, but the alcohol had certainly relaxed her, loosened her tongue.

"I've been working on a theory about you, Doctor. I think that you spend your Fridays doing paperwork, just like me."

"Well, you'd be wrong," he said. "I record all my notes and my secretary transcribes them. Closest thing to paperwork I do is signing bills and insurance forms. I despise paperwork."

"Well, you don't go out, that's for sure. You still wear your wedding ring, so I'm guessing you don't date much."

Jane peered down into the remnants of his first and only mug of beer. "True."

Lisbon grinned and tapped her temple. "See? I've been trained too—in criminal profiling. I might not be as intuitive as you, but I'm no slouch in understanding human behavior."

"I didn't think you were," said Jane. He looked into her bright eyes, at her flushed cheeks, and satisfied grin. She'd certainly pegged him. "I haven't dated anyone since my wife died," he admitted.

"No one?" She was genuinely surprised. I mean, look at the man, she thought.

"No. I haven't found anyone to compare to her, so what's the point? It's too much pressure to put on any woman, and I don't have the patience."

"I don't imagine anyone could ever replace her, Jane," she said sympathetically. "But you deserve some happiness, don't you?"

Her words reflected his thoughts of the other day, but he still was afraid to move on, that if he put himself out there, all he'd meet with was disappointment, not to mention, residual guilt.

"Someday," he replied cryptically. "Maybe."

"Physician," she chided, toasting him with her mug, "Heal thyself."

"Funny," said Jane, pushing his empty glass away.

"Not much for being psychoanalyzed, are you?"

"No, that's why I'm the doctor, not the patient. Speaking of which, have you been on the lookout for a man lately? I hear church is a great place to meet a partner with one's same values."

"Who are you, my Aunt Minnie? When have I had the time?"

"There have been two weekends since we started our sessions."

"Now you're my priest?"

"God forbid," quipped Jane.

She eyed him a moment. "Say, am I off the clock right now?"

Jane grinned, grabbing a cold slice of the leftover pizza. "Free advice," he said over a mouthful of pepperoni.

"Good," she said, "because I can only afford one more session."

He tossed his pizza back on his plate, his appetite gone. "What?"

"I'm not submitting any claims to CBI Insurance. I don't want anyone in the agency to find out I'm seeing a shrink. I've been paying in cash each time, didn't your secretary tell you?"

"No. She knows better than to bother me with such trifles."

Teresa laughed. "Of course not."

"We can work out a payment plan," said Jane, suddenly earnest, his hand atop hers on the table. "I really think you need another month, at least. Maybe six."

She felt a shiver from his touch and looked up into those beautiful, soulful eyes of his.

"Gee, thanks."

"We've only just scratched the surface," he continued. "I'd really like to delve further into your father issues. I'd like to know why you don't have any female friends, or where you see your life going—"

"I'm sorry you see me as such a basket case, Doctor, but I'm afraid I only budgeted for a month of Fridays, and that alone will take away most of my Christmas savings. One extra session and no dollies for my niece, Annabeth this year. Not to mention the fact that I need to buy a new car tomorrow."

"But—"

"You've helped me, Doctor, you really have. I've seen now that drinking is not an addiction for me, that I'm bored with my life, and that I need to start looking for more stable, long-term relationships. I'm practically cured." But her voice had a melancholy tone when she spoke of ending their patient-client relationship.

Jane felt an irrational wave of panic. One more session? One more week, then she'd be out of his life? But maybe this was for the best. She was a complication that he really didn't need right now. He wasn't ready for anything serious—not ready for any kind of relationship, to tell the truth. But Teresa Lisbon was ready. So why did he feel an ache in his heart at the thought of never again seeing her dancing eyes or sweet dimples? Suddenly, he couldn't bear it.

"You ready to go?" he asked, raising his hand for the waitress to deliver their check. He fished out his wallet.

"I was thinking of having another beer," she protested, and it was also dawning on her that a week from now, he would be out of her life.

"Don't you think you've had enough? Moderation, my dear," he said, tossing a hundred-dollar bill on the table.

"I'm not drunk," she said.

"You're tipsy. Let me drive you home. How embarrassing would it be if you got pulled over, half-drunk in the company SUV? I'll call a cab from your place."

"But you're not authorized to drive that vehicle."

"Meh," he said, and dangled her key ring before her eyes. Somehow he'd picked her pocket without her even knowing it. Maybe she was drunk.

"Hey!"

He got up from his chair and headed toward the door. "You coming?" he asked, but he didn't even wait to see if she followed. Of course, she did.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Outside her apartment building, Jane pulled the vehicle into a parking space. He got out and walked around, fully intending to open the door for her like a gentleman. She beat him to it, hopping out on her own.

"See, this is why guys aren't banging down your door. You're way too independent, even for the modern male, and you carry a gun for God's sake. Very intimidating."

"More free advice?" she asked sarcastically.

"And you have a very sharp tongue," he added, with a disapproving tsk. "Will you allow me the honor of walking you to your door, without running the risk of further emasculation?"

"Knock yourself out," she said, but she found that her heart was racing. She should say good-bye now, not invite him to her apartment.

He followed her to her ground-floor unit, presenting her keys to her with a flourish in the dimness of the small security light.

"You're in for the night, I trust," he said, holding them just above her reach. "No going back out to find a bar, right?"

"Give me the damn keys, Jane," she said, leaving off the Doctor. He found he liked it. No one else in the world called him that.

He handed them to her somewhat reluctantly, but they slipped out of her grasp, both of them reaching for them at the same time, bumping head to head. They stood up again, groaning and laughing and holding their aching foreheads.

"I thought that only happened in bad movies," she said.

Once again, her laughter transformed her face, making her infinitely attractive. His smile froze in place before he dipped his head and found her mouth, forgetting all the reasons why this was a bad idea.

She gasped into the kiss, both for the sheer unexpectedness of it, and the shock of pleasure that shot through her body. He kissed her like a man inflamed, holding her so tightly that she could barely breathe, ravaging her mouth with a fire that left her burning and shivering at the same time. Her hands looped around his neck and she opened to his seeking tongue. Their mutual moans at the intimate touch hummed deliciously through them both, his hands moving to her waist, then lower, to her buttocks, pulling her closer to his desire. She pushed against him instinctively, and he groaned again.

Finally, he came to his senses a little, dragging his mouth away from her lips to pant into her neck.

"We…can't do…this," he said.

"No," she agreed, trembling so hard she was grateful he was holding onto her. "You're my…psychologist."

For a moment, all either of them heard was heavy breathing and pulses thrumming in their ears.

"I quit—" he said.

"You're fired—"she breathed.

There was a bark of mutual nervous laughter, before it was smothered by another frenzied kiss.

A/N: Shall they go inside or stop before things get out of hand? I'm still contemplating that…you'll have to tell me what you think. Thanks for reading.