A/N: Bonus chapter this week for Thanksgiving. I know this holiday is tough for a lot of folks this year, not being able to spend time with friends and family the way we usually do, so wanted to send a little more fluff out into the universe to cheer us all up. A chapter of fanfic is a pretty paltry offering in the grand scheme of things, but we all gotta play to our strengths, right? I'm so thankful for this lovely little community and want to extend my well wishes to you all. Sending you goodwill over the interwebs. :)
xxx
Lunch was a subdued affair. Jane was inclined to glower over his soup, and Lisbon picked at her food, feeling flat and depressed.
Finally, Lisbon, determined to get them back on track, said half-heartedly, "I don't supposed you've come up with a brilliant scheme to trap Sevechenko that you just decided not to mention before now, have you?"
"Not yet," Jane admitted. "I think we should plan to spend some time at the pool this afternoon, see if we can pick up anything. I think most of the other members of the therapy group will be there, and I think there's a strong possibility of Sevechenko turning up."
"Oh." Lisbon made a face. "I was hoping to blow off the pool. I still want to check out the conference, see if Sevechenko's contact could be involved with that event somehow."
"Mm. I suppose we could do both," Jane said moodily.
"Really?" Lisbon said, pleased. "I thought you were going to tell me the conference would be a waste of time."
Jane shrugged. "Can't hurt to check it out."
Accordingly, they went to the area of the hotel where the conference was being held, but after spending an hour milling around the booths and listening to one of the speakers, Lisbon was forced to conclude that the conference was a dead end.
"All right," she said, resigned. "Let's go to the pool, then."
Mercifully, Jane did not say 'I told you so.'
Xxx
When they got back to their room, Jane handed her a small tote bag. "I picked up a few things for you."
"What kinds of things?" Lisbon asked, taking the bag.
Jane shrugged, still glum. "Open it."
Lisbon took each item out of the bag and laid them out on the bed. A floppy straw hat. A sarong. A pair of sunglasses. A novel she'd been meaning to read for months but had never bothered to pick up a copy of. A jade green one-piece bathing suit. A bottle of SPF 85 sunscreen. And a pair of $40 flip flops.
She bit her lip, touched by his thoughtful choices. For some reason, the sunscreen in particular made her want to cry. She picked it up and raised an eyebrow at Jane. "Is this your way of telling me you don't think I can get a tan?"
He looked at her like she was crazy. "Of course you can't get a tan. With your complexion? You'll just turn the color of a lobster and then peel for a week."
She laughed, then surprised herself by leaning over and kissing him on the cheek. "You're a good friend, Jane."
"I try," he said gloomily.
"Seriously, all of this—it was really thoughtful of you. Thank you."
"Lisbon," he sighed. "Can you please not try to make me feel better right now? I know I'm not being rational, but I'm feeling a little emotionally vulnerable right now. I'm still recovering from the traumatic experience of watching you be massaged by another man, and I'm trying to deal with your rejection of me at the same time. Can't you just let me sulk in peace instead of pouring salt in the wound by calling me your 'friend?'"
"You are my friend. And I didn't reject you," Lisbon said. "You rejected me. And I'm not trying to make you feel better. I'm just trying to thank you. Because this was all really sweet, Jane."
"I didn't reject you," Jane argued. "I kissed you, remember?"
"You admitted you're going to continue to prioritize hunting for Red John over pursuing anything with me," Lisbon said. "That's rejection. One of a lot higher magnitude than refusing to continue making out with you in a public hallway."
"You could at least have the decency to be devastated and secretly pining for me," Jane said, still sulking.
Lisbon was both of those things, but she knew better than to let Jane know it. "I'm going to change. Meet you down at the pool?"
Jane sighed heavily. "All right."
Xxx
Ten minutes later, Lisbon examined herself in the mirror. The bathing suit Jane had selected for her was modest but flattering, and even she had to admit it did amazing things for her eyes.
She lathered herself up with sunscreen every place she could reach, and resolved to find a shady spot to sit so she wouldn't have to ask Jane to put sunscreen on her back for her. Given the whole massage/hallway debacle, she figured even thinking about the possibility of Jane rubbing his hands all over her bare skin could only end in disaster for both of them. She thought back to their interlude in the hallway, before he'd confirmed all her worst fears. This would be so much easier if he wasn't such a damn good kisser, she thought with annoyance. Heat pooled in her belly, thinking of his mouth hot on hers, his hands in her hair.
She shook herself out of it. She put the thought firmly out of her mind, then went out to the main room. She put the things Jane had bought her back into the tote bag, then headed down to the pool. She managed to only let herself get sidetracked by the thought of Jane's mouth—and his words—twice on the way down.
Okay, three times.
When she reached the pool, she discovered Jane had been right. All the couples from the therapy group were there. She waved at Shelly and Michaela, who were chatting to one another on the opposite side of the pool, and then went to find Jane.
He'd saved her a spot in the shade. She bit her lip again, fighting the warm feeling in her chest, and went to join him.
He was wearing swim trunks and a t-shirt. Okay, seriously, it was not okay for him to look that attractive after everything he'd put her through on this assignment so far. It was impossible to stay sensible when he looked like that. Hm. Maybe she could get some special glasses that she could wear when Jane was in her direct line of sight. Glasses that could somehow obscure his true appearance and make him less attractive. Or perhaps a pair of contact lenses that would make him blurry enough that she wouldn't be able to see every perfect line of him in such vivid detail.
He looked up as she approached. He went still at the sight of her in the green swimsuit and sarong he'd picked out for her.
"Hey," she said, tossing the bag on the lounge chair next to him. "See anything interesting yet?"
He was staring at her again. "Uh—what?"
She jerked her head in the direction of the patio, where the rest of the couples were lounging about. "The case, Jane."
"Who cares about that?" he said, his eyes wide and still fixed on her.
"Jane," she said, exasperated. "Are you planning to spend the afternoon congratulating yourself for getting me to wear this swimsuit you picked out, or are you going to focus on the case?"
"I'm not congratulating myself," he said, his eyes roving over her. "I'm chastising myself for making a terrible mistake."
She arched one eyebrow. "Are you? Because your chastising looks like a lot like ogling."
"Believe me, I'm kicking myself over my selection. I would have picked out something far less enticing if I'd known how torturous it would be to see you in it after the, ah, events of the morning."
This was a serious problem. Though she would have denied it to her last breath up until last night, she could now admit to herself that she and Jane had, on occasion, ventured into territory that some—not her, but some—might call flirtatious. But that kiss—those kisses—had broken a dam. She and Jane were now openly appraising each other with outright lust, and it was clearly affecting their judgment. She was proud of how she'd held herself together in the hallway, but if he kept looking at her like that, she was going to lose it any moment and lunge at him over the deck furniture, consequences be damned.
She cleared her throat, reminding herself she couldn't afford to lose sight of the consequences. "Jane, I, uh, I really think we should focus on the case right now."
He snapped back to reality, meeting her eyes. "Yeah," he said, his shoulders drooping. "Okay."
She sat down on the lounge chair next to him. She put the hat and sunglasses on and put her feet up, leaning back to survey the other guests.
Tony, Scott, Yvonne, and Andrea had found a beach ball and were playing a modified version of volleyball in the pool. Lisa was sitting on a lounge chair at the end of the pool, watching the volleyball game with an impassive expression. Michaela and Shelly had stopped chatting but were sitting next to each other on adjacent lounge chairs, both with their noses buried in books. Isaac was swimming laps in the pool, ignoring the others.
Various members of the hotel staff made their way through the pool area, taking drink orders and bringing food and drink to the guests.
Lisbon studied the four playing volleyball in the pool, alert to any suspicious interpersonal interactions. She focused on Scott, wondering if he might have occasion to come to San Francisco frequently as part of his work. Could he have met Sevechenko in this hotel before? Or another, similar one in a different city?
Her eyes strayed to Lisa, grave and unsmiling. Lisbon's heart sank in sympathy, remembering the younger woman's palpable grief when she'd told her story that morning. No, surely Scott couldn't be involved. Surely.
Jane flagged down a member of the wait staff and ordered five drinks. An old-fashioned, two iced teas, a Diet Coke, and a lemonade.
Lisbon turned her head to look at him quizzically. "Thirsty?"
"They're for you," Jane said. "Well, except for the second iced tea. That's for me."
"For me?" Lisbon repeated. "I can't drink all that. And I hate Diet Coke. If I'm going to drink Coke, I want the real thing. Full sugar."
"I'm perfectly aware of that, Teresa," Jane said. "You're going to take the drinks to Lisa, Shelly, and Michaela as an excuse to engage them in small talk. The old-fashioned is for Michaela. The iced tea for Shelly. The Diet Coke is for Lisa. Oh, and the lemonade is for you," he added as an afterthought.
"And what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to sit here and see what I see," Jane said with infuriating calm.
Lisbon sighed, knowing it was useless to argue. "All right."
The waiter brought the drinks in record time, handing four of them to Lisbon on Jane's instruction. Lisbon looked down at the drinks in her hands, then looked at Jane in exasperation. "Why didn't you just have the waiter take them to the others directly? I'll be lucky if I make it halfway around the pool without spilling this all over the concrete."
"This will add a personal touch," Jane said. "Besides, you can go to Lisa first and ask her to help you carry them to make sure she joins in with the others. She won't be able to refuse a request for help."
Lisbon shook her head but did as he said.
She walked over to Lisa's chair, managing the four glasses with some difficulty. "Hi, Lisa," she said awkwardly. "I hope you're thirsty. This is for you," she said, handing her the Diet Coke.
"Oh!" Lisa blinked and took the drink. "Thank you."
"I'm going to take these over to Shelly and Michaela," Lisbon said, raising the other glasses. "Mind giving me a hand?"
"All right," Lisa agreed, and took the old-fashioned from her.
The two of them walked over to Michaela and Shelly's chairs, drinks in hand.
"Hi," Lisbon said with a nervous smile when Michaela and Shelly looked up at them. "Mind if we join you?"
"Of course not," Shelly said warmly. "Please, have a seat."
"This one's yours, I think," Lisa said, handing the old-fashioned to Michaela and sitting down on the end of her lounge chair.
"My favorite," Michaela said, taken aback. "How did you know?"
"They're from Patrick," Lisbon explained. "He's good at guessing things like that." Mindful of her un-sunscreened back, Lisbon perched on the foot of Shelly's lounge chair in a spot that kept her torso in the shade.
"That was kind of him," Shelly said, accepting the iced tea that Lisbon handed to her. "What made him think of it?"
"He's thoughtful like that," Lisbon said. She gave a self-deprecating smile. "And I think he thinks I need help making friends. I get so caught up in my work—well, I'm not exactly a social butterfly."
Shelly patted her on the knee. "I'm sure you do just fine, dear."
"Thanks." Lisbon took a sip of her lemonade. "So what do you all think of the retreat so far?"
There was an awkward silence.
"Yeah," Lisbon agreed. "I feel the same way."
"I suppose it's a good thing," Shelly said cautiously. "Getting us to talk about our feelings in a way we wouldn't necessarily do on our own."
"I don't know," Michaela said doubtfully. "So far it seems like it's just dredging up a lot of unpleasantness that would be best put in the past."
"Hear, hear," Lisa muttered.
"I know what you mean," Lisbon said. "Feelings are the worst." She raised her glass. "Here's to repression and denial."
The others laughed, and they all raised their glasses in turn. "I'll drink to that," Michaela said with feeling. She clinked her glass against the others, and they all drank.
The tension broken, the four women chatted. Lisa was still inclined to be quiet, but she revealed that Scott had been traveling even more than usual for work the past few months. He came to San Francisco regularly to meet with clients. Shelly commiserated, telling them that Isaac traveled frequently for work as well, though she seemed hazy on the details. "He can't tell me that much because of his security clearance," Shelly said, dejected. "So we can't even talk about his work. And since he's always working, that doesn't leave us with much to talk about the rest of the time."
Out of the corner of her eye, Lisbon saw Sevechenko appear at the entrance to the pool, a beautiful young woman on his arm. He made an imposing figure despite wearing a pair of swim trunks entirely too small to be considered fashionable in the U.S., with his massive, hairy back and the confident air of the rich and entitled.
His gaze landed on the four of them as he approached with his beautiful companion, and he nodded to them with a leer. "Ladies." His gaze lingered on Lisbon's green swimsuit, then flicked to her face and lingered there, too. He grinned and winked at her as he passed them. Lisbon flushed and met his gaze, but didn't smile.
"Do you know that guy?" Michaela asked Lisbon curiously.
Lisbon shook her head. "I've never met him."
"He winked at you," Lisa said, frowning.
"Well, Teresa looks a picture in that bathing suit," Shelly said. "It's hardly surprising a strange man might notice her, even if his manner wasn't entirely in good taste. Especially considering he has a girlfriend with him."
"I don't know," Michaela said, looking after Sevechenko's retreating figure. She turned back to Teresa with a quizzical expression. "It seemed like he knew you."
Mortified, Lisbon flushed. Remembering Jane's advice that the best lies were concealed with shades of truth, she said, "Oh, well—it's so embarrassing. I don't know if I can bring myself to tell you."
"Well, now you have to tell us," Michaela said, smirking.
"Agreed," Shelly said, straightening in anticipation. "You can't tease us like that and then leave us hanging."
Lisbon cleared her throat. "Last night, when Patrick and I were on our way into the party, we got a little…side-tracked."
"Don't tell me," Shelly breathed.
Her face flame red, Lisbon admitted, "That guy saw us making out in the foyer. He and a couple of his friends. We'd gotten a bit, um, carried away. He made a point to let us know he enjoyed the show."
Shelly started to laugh. "Well, at least one of us hasn't lost the fire in her marriage," she said, raising her glass to toast Lisbon. Her eyes drifted over to Jane. "I must say, I can't blame you. Not with a husband like that."
Lisbon's eyes followed and came to rest on Jane as well. "Yeah, well. Fire isn't everything," she said unhappily. Though it was certainly something, she thought, thinking of his hot kisses again.
Shelly patted her hand. "Of course. I'm sorry, dear. I shouldn't have—"
"No, it's okay," Lisbon said. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be a downer."
"Don't apologize for that," Lisa said. "We're all here for the same reason, after all."
Lisbon was touched. "Thanks, Lisa."
She let her eyes linger on Jane, and was unsurprised to see him get up and approach Sevechenko. Of course Jane couldn't go five minutes without poking a bear, if there was a bear to be had.
"What's Patrick doing?" Michaela asked, frowning at him.
"Something stupid, probably," Lisbon sighed. She debated getting up and intervening, but decided to let Jane put his play in motion without interference.
The four of them watched Jane talk to Sevechenko for a few minutes. Then a waiter walked by and magically stumbled in a way that caused him to spill a pink, sticky looking drink all down Sevechenko's front.
"Did Patrick just trip that guy?" Lisa said, her eyes wide. "The waiter, I mean?"
"I wouldn't put it past him," Lisbon said, resigned.
Sevechenko snapped at the waiter, then stormed off to clean himself up, leaving Jane alone with Sevechenko's beautiful companion.
"Uh," Michaela said, darting a nervous glance at Lisbon. "Do you want to, um—go see what they're talking about, Teresa?"
Lisbon shook her head. "No, I'm good. I'm sure he'll tell me later." Jane would undoubtedly get more out of the young woman on his own, anyway.
Michaela gaped at her. "Wow. You have a lot of trust in him."
"He's not the cheating kind," Lisbon explained. Then, feeling this was insensitive, given Michaela and Yvonne's situation, hastily added, "I mean, not when it comes to other women. He'll lie and cheat at poker or any other game of chance, given the opportunity."
"Really?" Shelly said doubtfully. "He seems like such a nice young man."
"He is nice," Lisbon said. She clarified, "As long as you don't get on his bad side."
"What gets people on his bad side?" Lisa asked curiously.
"He doesn't tolerate bullies or petty tyrants," Lisbon said.
Sevechenko was returning to the pool area, glowering. Mr. Rutherford, the hotel manager, appeared in his path and stopped him, addressing him in low and urgent tones.
Lisbon straightened, watching the interaction with keen interest.
Jane excused himself from the young woman's company and returned to his spot in the shade, leaning back with his hands folded behind his head, the picture of relaxation.
Sevechenko glared at him malevolently and brushed off Rutherford to rejoin his companion. A moment later, Tim, the bellhop, appeared at his elbow, offering Sevechenko and his date a pair of complimentary drinks.
Lisbon frowned. The bellhop's uniform seemed out of place, when there were plenty of wait staff at the pool. Why was Tim going out of his way to engage with Sevechenko?
She cast a look at Jane across the pool to see if he'd noticed the unexpected pairing. He gave her a small nod to indicate he was tracking the situation.
Satisfied, Lisbon returned to her conversation with the other women, continuing to watch Sevechenko out of the corner of her eye.
Scott hauled himself out of the pool and strode over to the four of them, dripping water all over the deck around them. "Hey, babe," he said to Lisa, beaming. "You having a good time?"
Lisa tensed. "Fine," she said brusquely.
Yvonne climbed out of the pool, looking like a modern-day Venus in her coral bikini. She came over and sat down next to Michaela. "You guys started partying without us? No fair." She took hold of Michaela's old-fashioned and took a healthy slug.
Michaela wrested the glass from her. "You don't even like old-fashioneds," she reproved.
A waiter appeared at Yvonne's side with a tray. "A cosmopolitan," he said, offering it to Yvonne. He handed Scott a beer. "And for you, sir."
"Thanks," Scott said, blinking. "Uh, I didn't order this."
Michaela looked at Lisbon and raised her eyebrows. "From Patrick?"
"That'd be my bet," Lisbon agreed. "Would you all excuse me for a minute?"
"Of course," Shelly said. "Tell Patrick thanks for the drinks, won't you?"
The others chorused their thanks in turn, and Lisbon promised to pass on their expressions of gratitude.
She stood and crossed the patio to the other side of the pool where Jane was still sitting, looking like a model, the long lines of him stretched out in beautiful repose. Seriously, she really needed to invest in those special glasses she'd thought about earlier.
She sat back down next to him, swinging her legs up on the lounge chair and turning on her side so she could face him. "Well?" she said expectantly.
Jane turned his head and raised an eyebrow. "Well, what?"
"What'd you learn from Sevechenko?"
"What makes you think I learned anything from Sevechenko?" Jane said archly.
"Come on, cut the crap, Jane. I know you got something, or you wouldn't bother making me drag it out of you."
Jane sighed. "Sometimes you really know how to take the fun out of a reveal, my dear. Anybody ever tell you that?"
"You're the only one who would ever tell me something like that in the first place," Lisbon said, unimpressed. "Now, spill. Did you find out who his contact was?"
"No," Jane admitted. "But I found out how he's smuggling the women into the hotel."
"How?"
"Through the front door," Jane said. "His lovely friend Irina told me. He finds girls in poor families and promises them modeling contracts abroad for an upfront fee paid to their families. Then he gets them into the country with false papers and uses a combination of bribery and coercion to keep them in line. By the time they get here, they don't feel they have any other options but to go along with his depraved intentions. Most of them keep quiet and go along with it so they can keep sending money home to their families. The ones that don't—" he shook his head.
"Those poor women," Lisbon said angrily. "We've got to stop him, Jane."
"Yes," Jane agreed. "I'm working on a plan. Don't worry, Lisbon. We're not going to let him get away with it."
"Good," Lisbon said, satisfied, and sat back to finish her lemonade.