A/N: I appreciate all your great reviews so much! Thanks for the time you take to tell me what you think and offer such wonderful encouragement. Thanks also to those who are favoriting this fic, as well as my older stuff. I really do write these fics for you guys, along with my personal desire to revisit the world of The Mentalist.
That being said, I apologize that this chapter isn't as long as usual. I've hit some writer's block, but I thought that since it's been over a week since I posted a chapter, I would at least give you what I have so far. Thanks for your patience.
Now, to get you off that evil cliff I left you on…
Chapter 4
The first thing Jane felt upon waking was a drop of cool water on his cheek, closely followed by a pounding pain at the back of his head. His vision cleared next, the darkness lightening gradually, until he realized he was still in Lisbon's hotel room, though the lights were on now. He was still where he'd fallen in the foyer, but his head rested on something soft—a woman's bare thighs. He blinked.
"Jane?"
Lisbon.
"Oh, thank God," she was saying, as he focused on her face. Her brows were knit in concern, her green eyes bright with tears, her hair dripping wet. She was wearing only a towel.
He tried to sit up.
"Lisbon? What happened?"
"Easy," she said. "I hit you on the back of the head with my Glock. What the hell were you thinking, sneaking in my room like that? How did you get my key?"
He was still disoriented, his adrenalin still up from his fear Red John had taken Lisbon, his frantic race to her room.
"I—" he began to explain. And then he looked at her, and he felt the fear of the last several minutes colliding with the intense relief that she was okay, that she was sitting before him now in only a towel, smelling of shampoo and lilac body wash and Lisbon.
His head emptied of coherent thought, Jane grabbed her damp, bare shoulders, pulling her to him to capture her mouth with his. His kiss was passionate-almost angry, and at first her lips were still beneath the surprising onslaught of his emotions, but she couldn't resist his warm, seeking mouth, and she opened to him like a flower in the sun. His hands moved to her cheeks as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping through her mouth in rich, heady strokes.
They both went up on their knees, and he felt her hands in his hair, his own gliding now over soft, damp skin covered by rich, white terrycloth. He drew her closer till he swore he could hear her pounding heart echoing his.
"Teresa," he said, releasing her mouth in a ragged breath. He moved his head against her hand and let out a sudden moan as a wave of nausea swept over him. He left her on the floor and stumbled blindly toward the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time.
Lisbon sat back on the floor in a daze, her hand going to her swollen lips. The sounds of Jane heaving in the bathroom shook her out of it, and she rose awkwardly to her feet, adjusting the slipping towel that she'd knotted just above her breasts.
He was hugging the commode with as much passion as he'd just embraced her, his face white as his body convulsed a few more times. He sat back against the coolness of the tile wall, closing his eyes and moaning again. She took a washcloth from a shelf and wet it at the sink, then squatted beside him to wipe his clammy brow.
"You have a concussion," she said softly.
"That must be it," he said. "Nothing personal." He attempted to smile, then flinched as pain and nausea rolled through him again. He leaned over the toilet, but his stomach was disappointingly empty. He sat gently back against the wall, mindful of his aching head, and the coolness of the tile was somewhat soothing.
She got him a glass of water and some Tylenol from her toiletry bag near the sink, which he took gratefully, then reached over and flushed the toilet. He would have felt embarrassed for vomiting in front of her, except he was currently blaming her for the whole goddamn mess, and, kiss notwithstanding, he was pretty pissed off at the moment.
"Why didn't you answer your phone?" he asked weakly, wiping his face and mouth with the wet washcloth.
And why are you only in a towel?
But he didn't ask that, figuring her current attire—or lack thereof—would somehow be part of her explanation. She also looked very fetching, and his stomach clenched for an entirely different reason than his concussion. He couldn't believe he'd been kissing her not five minutes before.
Feeling suddenly self-conscious as his hooded gaze swept over her half-nakedness, Lisbon blushed and reached behind the bathroom door to retrieved the hotel robe.
"You called me?" she asked, slipping it on over the towel.
"Yes," he ground out in annoyance as he remembered how he'd felt when she hadn't answered.
"Well, I guess we've both had an adventure. After you left, I waited thirty minutes, like we agreed. I went back to the other motel parking lot where I'd left my car about a half-block away, but the damn thing had been towed. According to the manager, I needed a permit to park there as a motel guest. Since I knew you were waiting for me at the casino, I decided to deal with the car later and get a cab. Apparently there's a big convention in town, and I couldn't find one to save my life. So, I jogged nearly two miles in the 95 degree November heatwave, arriving at the casino sweating like a pig with a blister on my foot from those damn sandals. Plus, the whole way, I had the funny feeling I was being followed."
"Did you see who it was?" Jane asked, frowning in concern.
"No," she said. "Anyway, when I passed through the casino, I didn't see you, so I figured I had time to run up to my room and shower and change out of these sweaty clothes and shoes. The second I got into my room, I took out my Glock and tossed my purse onto my bed. When I took off my wig, I looked like a drowned rat, so I decided to wash my hair too. You must have called while I was in the shower. I'd just turned off the water when I heard someone opening the door to my room. I knew it couldn't be the maid because I'd put out the Do Not Disturb. I'd been in such a hurry that I hadn't turned on the room lights, so I turned off the bathroom light too, grabbed my gun, and slipped out. I saw a dark figure creeping into my room, and, given my suspicions about being followed, I decided to hit first and ask questions later. The rest you uh, know." Of course she was thinking of their passionate kisses on the floor, and she blushed, feigning sudden fascination with the shower curtain.
"How long was I out?" he asked.
"About two minutes. We should probably get you to the hospital and get you checked out."
"No. I'm already feeling better."
He didn't look any better.
"I'm sorry," she said again.
"Don't be," he said, his anger abating. "You did the right thing. The reason I was so frantic was because Red John knows you've left Sacramento."
"What? How?"
"I'm not sure, but I figure he's got someone on the inside of the CBI, watching us."
"A mole?" she gasped. "Dear God."
"Yeah." His sentiments exactly. "I called Cho to tell him about it, so at least they can watch what they say about you and Red John."
She nodded. "Good idea."
They were both thinking about how Red John's infiltration into the CBI could be an indicator of a much larger network of followers than they'd thought.
"If someone was following you," Jane said ominously, "they may have recognized you and followed you here."
"Dammit," she swore, just contemplating the ramifications for their plans.
"We might have to scrap this whole thing," said Jane, tossing the washcloth down angrily.
"You don't know that yet."
Jane tried to get up, and Lisbon rushed toward him to help. He stood a moment with his hands on the sink, feeling dizzy, though his stomach only roiled a little.
"Mind if I use your mouthwash?" he asked sheepishly, picking up the small bottle the hotel provided.
"Knock yourself out."
He gave her a sidelong glance at her choice of words.
"Sorry," she said, flushing. She left him to his privacy.
He gargled a good long while, then rinsed and gargled again before splashing his face with cold water. When he left the bathroom, he felt almost human again, except for the throbbing at the base of his skull.
She was there to help him onto her bed, where he stretched out with a moan the moment his head sank into the pillow.
"How did your meeting with Lorelei go?" she asked him. She settled at the end of the bed, and he focused with keen interest on the quick flash of thigh as she sat down, one leg tucked beneath her.
"Well, I'm more than welcome to join the Dark Side, I just need to kill you to ensure my trustworthiness."
"Me? Why me?"
"Because they know you're the most important person in my life," he said simply. Her eyes locked with his, and her breath caught in her throat.
"Oh," she managed lamely. "So you have any idea what we should do now, I mean, if you have decided against the killing me part?"
"I don't know," he teased, "I felt like killing you when I was hugging your commode."
She smiled guiltily. "I can imagine."
"You must have aced pistol whipping in cop school."
"Top of my class."
They both grinned, and the air in the room seemed much warmer all of a sudden. Lisbon's hand went involuntarily to the V of her heavy robe, parting it a little more while Jane's eyes darkened at the wider patch of skin she'd exposed. He knew exactly what she had on under that robe—what she didn't have on. He cleared his throat nervously, forced himself to meet her eyes.
"Teresa…about earlier," he began tentatively.
"Yes?" He wondered if her pulse was racing as fast as his was.
"I guess I was a little out of it, what with the concussion and all."
"So you're blaming kissing me on head trauma?" she said with an amused smirk. Her voice only shook a little.
He was the one to blush this time. "Well, yes and no. If I say I was out of my mind when I did it, that still doesn't sound very complimentary to you, does it?"
"No. But then…what was my excuse?"
She reached out, touched his knee, looked at him with such longing that it made his head swim.
"Come here," he said softly.
But her decision was taken from her when a muffled ring came from her purse, still on the other side of the bed where she'd tossed it. She stretched over his legs to reach for it, and he caught the sash of her robe, toyed with it as she fished out her cell phone.
"Cho," she said into the receiver.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. Fine. Jane said he called you. Are you in a place you can talk?"
"Yeah. I just got off work. I'm in the park across the street from the office. I've been calling you. Thought I'd try again."
"Thanks. So you know about the possible mole."
"What do you want me to do about it?" he asked.
Lisbon glanced at Jane, put the phone on speaker. "Jane's here listening," she told him.
"Keep this quiet, Kimball," Jane answered his question. "It could be anyone."
"What about Rigsby and VanPelt?"
Lisbon's green eyes appealed to Jane, and he relented. "I think we can trust them," said Jane. "But no one else. There's no telling how far Red John has infiltrated the CBI. Until we get back, just tell Wayne and Grace to watch what they say at work."
"Boss?"
"I agree," she confirmed, being Cho's actual boss. "But there's something else going on here in Vegas." She looked at Jane, and he nodded his consent. Like it or not, he realized, they might need backup. He closed his eyes and listened while she spoke.
"We may need your help. Jane's been in contact with one of Red John's people. All that crap with Jane six months ago was an act, a way to catch Red John's attention so Jane could infiltrate his organization. Only trouble is, I'll have to die to make it happen…"
She went on to tell her number one everything, including how Red John very likely was on to her. "When Jane and I come up with a plan, we'll let you know about it. Be on standby to maybe fly out here at a minute's notice."
"I could come there now," said Cho.
"Too suspicious if Lisbon's gone, and then you all of a sudden disappear," said Jane. "He's watching everything, remember that."
"Okay," said Cho. It was obvious he didn't like this plan one bit. His boss was possibly in trouble, and he was forced to keep his hands tied and his mouth shut. Being proactive was definitely more in his nature.
They hung up, Lisbon agreeing to keep in close contact.
"So now what?" she said to Jane.
"We tell Red John the truth."
Her heart gave thump. "Which truth?"
He grinned. "Now you're thinking like a conman. The truth that you came looking for me from Sacramento on your own accord, that I didn't send for you or make contact with you. But now you're here, and you're trying to get me to come back with you."
She thought about this a moment. "You're putting me in competition for Red John's affections. Upping the ante."
"Yes. Hopefully this makes him fight harder to woo me."
"I'm not sure I want to be caught up in some sick love triangle with you and a serial killer, especially one who wants me dead. Why wouldn't he just kill me and knock out the competition?"
"Because he wants me to choose him. If he kills you, he knows he's lost me for good. But if I am the one to kill you…"
"Well, that puts us back to where we started, doesn't it? How does this solve the problem of your actually having to kill me?"
"I haven't worked all that out yet," he admitted. "But it does solve one more immediate problem: it saves you from being killed by Red John. He finds out I've been lying to him, he might actually kill us both. Right now, he must see you as an annoyance, a distraction from his current game with me. But if I explain the new rules, he'll be all in, and you'll be safe."
"Safe?" she repeated in disbelief. "No one is safe around that devil. But aren't you forgetting something? He knows I'm with the CBI, that I would do whatever it took to have him arrested. He's not going to take the chance that I call in the cavalry—"
"He's not afraid of that," Jane countered. "He's gotten away with this so long, he's become complacent. He believes he will never be caught. No, his primary concern right now is winning me over." Jane's eyes widened in sudden epiphany. "That's it!"
"What's it?"
"Teresa, my dear, you have just helped me to plant the seeds of a plan. I'll need a bit to work everything out in my mind, but I think this could be the answer."
To her surprise, he sat up beside her, swung his feet slowly to the floor, one end of her robe belt still in his hand.
"You should rest, Jane. Or, better yet, go to the doctor—"
"I'm fine. The Tylenol is kicking in."
She felt a slight tug on her belt, and as she looked at the hand that held it, she was reminded of a book she'd read in high school, where a man described the connection with his lover as an invisible string that tied them together. Lisbon realized it wouldn't take much effort for Jane to pull her closer to him, perhaps to continue what they'd started on the floor. And she knew she would go to him gladly. It had always been that way, this control he had over her, an invisible thread that had drawn her to search for him, to follow him to Vegas, that made her come to his aid or at his whim whether he'd asked her not. But she had deep doubts about how strong her hold was on him.
He had once said he would always save her, but had he really meant it? Did he feel that same pull that she did, that strong, internal link that she felt for him? She couldn't answer that yet, so, for her own self-preservation, she pulled the belt from his hand and rose from the bed.
"I should get dressed," she said. "Let you grow those seeds, or harvest your plan, or however you want to continue that lame metaphor."
"Teresa," he beckoned, but she couldn't look into his eyes, otherwise that invisible string would become inexorably tied in knots. Good thing he couldn't really read minds; that was the lamest metaphor of all.
A/N: Thanks again for reading. A longer chapter next time, I promise J
