A/N: This is the second chapter I've posted in as many days, so if you are behind, please go back and read Chapter 10 first, which I posted late Sunday night. I'm trying to finish this story before the season finale, since I have a feeling a lot of this fic will be obsolete after that. So, please be on the lookout for the final one or two chapters to be posted by this Thursday.

Chapter 11

The next day, LaRoche was moved out of ICU and into a private room. He could now receive more than one visitor at a time, and Jane was the second one in line. He smiled at Jessie, already at his bedside. She was wearing the same thing as yesterday, and the purple beneath her eyes attested to a restless night.

Jessie didn't return Jane's smile. "I think you should leave, Patrick. Your being here might upset him."

The patient opened his eyes at the sound of her firm tone. His eyes swung to Jane.

"That's okay, Jessie. I'd like to talk to Jane, actually. Why don't you take a break—go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat."

"But, John—"

He saw LaRoche squeeze her hand. "Please, sweetheart," he said softly. "I'll be fine."

"Alright," she consented. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes." She gave Jane a warning glance, to which Jane smiled again and nodded in understanding.

"She's very protective of you," he commented when she'd gone.

"Yes. I'm a lucky man."

There was an awkward silence, then LaRoche began to talk. "I want you to tell me why you tracked down Jessie, set us up at that inn—everything. You were obviously trying to mess with me for the gun incident. Seems a funny way to get back at me-giving me my heart's desire?"

Jane took a seat in the chair Jessie had abandoned. "Simple. I want you out of the CBI—at least, the Sacramento branch. I figured Jessie was just the person to distract you. I didn't like how you handled the Todd Johnson investigation, or your demotion of Lisbon. And I especially resented being kicked out of the attic, one of the few places I felt comfortable enough to think. And also, I don't think you are worthy of filling the shoes of people like Virgil Minnelli or even Hightower—"

"You don't think I'm worthy of filling the shoes of a murderer and a kidnapper?" LaRoche interrupted. "My, my, Jane. That's rather harsh criticism," he said, his tone laced with suspicion.

The two men regarded each other a moment. "Nevertheless," Jane continued, "I don't think you're a very good fit for this office."

"That's not really your choice now, is it? I could fire you right now for gross insubordination."

Jane chuckled. "But you won't. I'm the golden boy around here. Bertram may not like me either, but he knows I make the CBI look good by all those cases I tend to close, which also makes him look good for his constituents."

"Except the Haskell case. Didn't appear to me that your head was in the game on this one. Two people ended up shot, including yours, truly."

"But I wasn't the one Bertram was blaming last night, was I?"

Jane had him there. "I'll take part of the blame," LaRoche conceded, "but maybe Agent Lisbon should share in this too. After all, she's Rigsby's direct supervisor. She's also been on suspension a few times herself, mainly for being unable to control her people. More specifically—you. Maybe she's the one who should go."

Jane's eyes narrowed dangerously, as he leaned closer to the bed. "Listen, you little worm, this is between you and me. Leave Lisbon out of it and we'll settle this like men."

"You're very protective of her," he said mildly, throwing Jane's words back at him. "Almost like you would be toward a…lover. But that couldn't be true. Lisbon knows it's against CBI regulations for two members of the same-"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

LaRoche shrugged. "It's not fun to have some outsider interfering in your personal life, is it? But cameras don't lie, do they?"

Jane's mind was racing. He and Lisbon had been so careful to avoid physical contact at work. But last week, on the couch in the bullpen…Dammit!

"How long do you plan to sit on this information?" Jane asked quietly.

"I don't know. How long do you plan to go after my job?"

"Anyone ever tell you you're a real bastard, LaRoche?"

"Not as many that have likely told you…Jane."

"I guess we're at an impasse," Jane said coldly, but he felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. He rose just as Jessie was re-entering, carrying a covered to-go cup and a white paper sack.

"Everything okay here?" she asked, looking from one man to the other. LaRoche seemed quite at ease, but now Jane seemed distant, withdrawn.

"All is quite well, my love. Jane was just leaving."

"Yes. Feel better soon, Agent LaRoche," Jane said without sincerity. He nodded respectfully toward Jessie and left the hospital room.

"What was that all about?" Jessie asked, and Jane waited for his answer, standing around the corner, out of sight.

"Just shop talk. I don't think he'll be bothering us again on the personal front."

"Why not?" Jessie asked skeptically.

"Because he understands the value of privacy, that's why." LaRoche sounded like he knew Jane was still listening. "Sit down, Jessie, and show me what you have in that bag that smells so good…"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon had tried all day to get Jane on the phone, and he hadn't come in to work, so by five-thirty, she was so worried that she decided to leave earlier than usual and try to track him down. Since there was no active case, the rest of the team had left, and as she tapped her foot impatiently by the elevator, she heard the sound of metal upon metal and much cursing. It was coming from upstairs. Apparently, the CBI's attic had one very large rat.

Lisbon took the stairs and found said rat struggling with bolt cutters to remove the huge padlock LaRoche had spitefully slapped onto Jane's dirty, old rat hole door. Sweat had gathered on his brow, and his suit jacket and vest lay over the nearby railing. He was huffing with exertion, and she could see that he'd torn the skin of his hands in his vain attempt at breaking and entering.

"I believe your bolt cutters aren't big enough," she said, trying not to smile. "I'm afraid in some cases, size does in fact matter."

He stopped what he was doing to look at her amused expression. "You gonna berate me, or give me a hand here."

"I told you, your tool is too small. Maybe you can get a refund at the hardware store."

"Gee thanks, Lisbon. Just what every man wants to hear."

He groaned in frustration, then hit the lock with the cutters. He leaned his back against the door, sliding down to sit his tired ass on the floor. The cutters hit the linoleum with a clink of finality. "Shit!" he yelled at the top of his voice. Lisbon slid down beside him, and they sat together on the hard floor. Jane's breathing slowed, and he wiped his brow with his sleeve, closed his eyes, and banged the back of his head against the door a few times for good measure.

"You know," she ventured, "instead of trying to get back into your man cave, you could always try talking to me."

"The purpose of a man cave, Lisbon, is so man doesn't have to talk to woman."

"Well that's pretty cowardly, don't you think?"

He didn't dignify that with an answer.

She looked down at his hands where he'd hurt them in his struggles, and reached over to pick them up and examine the damage. She was surprised when he let her. "These abrasions will get infected if you don't wash them and keep them clean." He didn't comment. "So, you just trying to break in to spite LaRoche? Looks like you sure showed him," she said, shaking her head at his injuries.

"Well, while the cat's away…"

"The rat will play," she finished, smiling at her private joke.

He removed his hands from her grasp and fisted them in his lap. "It's all falling apart, Lisbon," he muttered. "I've lost this one."

"What are you talking about? LaRoche is out, at least for awhile."

He laughed shakily. "He'll be back. He's got something on me. On both of us, Lisbon. He knows about us, and he's blackmailing me now."

She drew in a shocked breath. "How? We've been so careful."

"He's an investigator, Teresa," he said tiredly. "He actually checks those surveillance tapes, the paranoid creep. He apparently saw the video of us making love on the couch last week."

She struggled to find her voice, then: "Why didn't he confront us with it right away?"

He turned his head to look at her, and it filtered into her mind that LaRoche just wanted a way to control them.

"It's all falling apart," he repeated. "This plan of mine. I'm losing my touch, I guess. If anything about Red John comes up now, he's not going to tell me. He's not gonna let me anywhere near such an investigation. It'll be like Bosco all over again."

Lisbon tried to ignore the involuntary squeeze of her heart at the mention of her old mentor and friend.

"You don't know that. LaRoche isn't Bosco."

He chuckled at her credulity. "Oh yes I do know. LaRoche is an even sneakier bastard. At least Bosco had principles. You know what Bosco said to me on his death bed, Lisbon?"

Lisbon held her breath. Here was another secret he'd been keeping from her. "What?" she prompted in a whisper.

"He told me that Red John likely had plants all over law enforcement. That anyone could be his mole and we wouldn't know it, just like his own secretary was sent in to gain his trust and then shoot him down. Just like someone on the inside killed Todd Johnson. Maybe it was even LaRoche himself. Bosco told me not to trust anyone."

"But it was Hightower who killed Johnson, remember? You know, the woman who took you hostage so she could get away with murdering her lover's killer?"

He turned toward her, and realized that this was it. He was giving up on trying to run around LaRoche, and the law and…Lisbon. He'd thought that maybe, with Minnelli back onboard, he'd be able to have someone he trusted handling Red John. But with LaRoche still in, that wasn't to be. He'd run out of ideas. Hightower was right; he couldn't do this alone anymore.

"No," he said. "It wasn't her. Johnson worked for Red John, and someone killed him to shut him up. Hightower was set up to take the blame, and I helped her escape."

She looked at him in stunned silence. Her mind was whirling, her heart pounding. She couldn't even wrap her brain around where to start asking questions. Her overriding feeling, however, was betrayal, and it was in that emotion she found her voice again.

"Why couldn't you tell me about this? Is it because of what Bosco said—trust no one?"

"No, Lisbon. No. It was to keep you safe, I swear. The fewer people who knew, the fewer Red John had to target."

"Where is Hightower now?" Lisbon realized suddenly that she'd been right about her old boss all along. And Jane had let her believe the worst of someone whom she'd just begun to admire. Lisbon didn't know quite how to process that yet.

Jane shook his head. "I don't know where she is. She's with her family in some place safe, I hope. I told her I didn't want to know anything so there was no chance Red John would find out. There's still a mole in the CBI, Lisbon, watching us, reporting back our every move."

A thought occurred to her. "How do you know Johnson worked for Red John? There was nothing about his case that resembled anything Red John's done in the past."

He sighed, then reached for her hand, wincing at the sting from his wounds. "He told me this thing with him was bigger than I could imagine, and on his death bed, he quoted from Blake, just like Red John had. I somehow don't think that was a coincidence, do you?"

"No." Then, a buried memory assailed her, bringing forth a chill of dread. "Gale Bertram quoted Blake to me the night Hightower escaped."

"What?" It was Jane's turn to feel shocked. "What did he say?"

She shook her head. "I can't remember, but LaRoche was there. Maybe he can tell us."

"We can't ask him, Lisbon. He may be our mole."

"But I can't remember on my own. Too much time has passed, and at the time I didn't find it significant. If only you'd told me about Red John's penchant for Blake, we would have been able to pounce on that lead right away. See what your secrecy has done!"

"I'll get my Blake books, and you can look over his poems, maybe recognize the words. And if that fails, I'll hypnotize it out of you."

She nodded, and he felt such an overwhelming feeling of love for her, that he reached for her, gathering her into his arms and holding on tightly. But despite the partial feeling of relief, he was also feeling intense fear. "Oh, God, Teresa, I'm so sorry. For all of this."

She pulled away slightly to look at him. "I know you had your reasons for keeping these things from me, but I hope you know now how misguided you've been. I'm a damn good investigator myself, and by not sharing this, you might have kept me from seeing other clues. Now…is there anything else?"

She could tell by his guarded expression that there was. Then, surprising them both, a slow grin spread across his face at the memory of his Christmastime visit with Minnelli.

"Well," he began, "there's the matter of a certain list…"

A/N: Okay, all the cats are out of the bag (being a cat lover, I hate that expression, by the way). Anyway, the next chapters will deal with the fallout of all Jane's revelations, as well as LaRoche's injury. I hope you liked this chapter enough to review. Thanks in advance!