A/N: Thanks so much for the wonderful response to my first chapter! I'm dreadfully behind as usual in responding to your reviews, but I will try to catch up soon. Your kind words continue to inspire me to write.

The plot in the chapter (such as it is) thickens a bit, but beware the absurdities ahead. The word count is a little lower than usual, but that's because there's lots of dialogue and not as much exposition—hope you don't mind

Chapter 2: Martians

"No way she did it," said Van Pelt the next day, after murder charges had been filed against Rita Morrison.

"That's not what Ardilles thinks," sang out Rigsby. He was about to give Cho a high-five, but when he saw his lover's face, he wisely resisted.

"Tests showed she fired a gun recently," said Cho.

"Yeah, but so did Zack Ezzell," countered Van Pelt. "It's really his word against hers."

"And don't forget Billie Sue Dixon's," piped up Jane from his couch in the bullpen. He was looking down intently at his cell phone, satisfied that he'd figured out (on his own) how to text Lisbon a picture he'd found on the internet.

"She's covering for him, obviously. They had been lovers too, right? And she and Rita didn't get along, so she set her up, saying she'd been worried about Jerry and followed him to the park that night. I don't believe her for a minute."

"So, not every woman is innocent by virtue of her sex," suggested Jane.

"No, of course not. You men were the ones making this case about sex."

"Everything's about sex," said Cho.

Everyone turned to look at him, shocked he would have such an opinion. He shrugged. "It's true."

"Right you are, Kimball," said Jane. "And you can always depend on women playing the sex card when things aren't going their way."

"Hear, hear," agreed Rigsby.

"That's a very sexist thing to say," said Van Pelt with a sniff.

Just then, Lisbon practically marched into the bullpen, and went right up to Jane, shoving her cell phone into his face. "Not gonna happen, Jane."

"Is that a picture of Joan from Mad Men?" asked Van Pelt, who'd gotten a brief glimpse of the photo Lisbon was flashing.

"The redhead?" asked Rigsby. "Oh my God, that woman has the most incredible—"

The women turned on him with angry glares. "—acting skills," he finished lamely.

Cho's lips quirked, but he said nothing. Let Rigsby dig his way out of that one.

"No Joan?" said Jane, clearly disappointed. He flipped through more photos on his phone and then held up another picture. "How about Peggy? She's not nearly as well, voluptuous as Joan, but I like the girl's style. You could work with that, couldn't you, Lisbon?"

"This case isn't over yet," Lisbon said through clenched teeth.

"Not until the skirted lady sings?" quipped Jane with a grin.

"No one said anything about singing," she said, eyes narrowing dangerously.

The rest of the team were looking back and forth between their boss and the consultant, all of them wondering what the hell was going on with them.

"Never you mind," Lisbon warned their audience.

Then she turned to Van Pelt. "Come with me, Grace. I need your help with something."

"Sure, Boss," replied the junior agent curiously. In a rare display of immaturity, Van Pelt stuck out her tongue at Rigsby on her way out of the bullpen. Jane chuckled.

"Where are they going?" asked Rigsby, supremely annoyed to have Van Pelt mad at him. That didn't bode well for their evening activities.

"They're going to keep working the case without us," said Cho.

"Why? Seems pretty open and shut to me," replied Rigsby. He hated being relegated to staying in the office while Van Pelt was out in the field with the boss.

"You really don't know much about women," stated Cho.

"No arguments there," said Rigsby, his eyes going longingly to the bullpen door.

"Above anything," Jane explained, "they hate losing, especially to men."

"You should read Men are From Mars, Women are from Venus," suggested Cho.

Rigsby laughed. Of course he'd heard of the book years ago, but it always sounded like pop psychology clap trap to him. "Don't tell me you've read it, Cho?"

"I have."

"Me too," said Jane. "It's actually a pretty accurate thesis on how men and women are from two different worlds."

"Well, Mars seems like a lot cooler place to be from than Venus," said Rigbsy petulantly. "I mean, Mars was named after the god of war, right? It's also more capable of sustaining life than Venus. Why would anyone want to be from a hot, gassy little planet?"

Cho shook his head. Some guys would just never get it.

"That," said Jane, in a very Yoda-esque tone, "is why you fail…"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"First thing we do is go back to Billie Sue Dixon's house," said Lisbon in the SUV. Van Pelt rode shotgun, feeling very much like Mom loved her best at the moment.

"I can't believe those guys," muttered Van Pelt. "They are so stubborn."

"Yeah, well so are we," said Lisbon. "We are women—"
"Hear us roar," concluded Van Pelt.

They both grinned. Sisterhood was a powerful motivator, especially when it was against a mutual enemy—sexism.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"She recanted," announced Lisbon to the bullpen two hours later. "Billie Dixon recanted."

Jane set down his newspaper. "Really?" he said, genuinely surprised.

"You didn't even bother interviewing her, Jane, or you would have seen it yourself. I'm no mentalist, and it only took a couple of questions to break her down."

"Ardilles is the one who got her statement about witnessing the murder," added Cho. No way he would have missed her lying either.

"Well, now they've got both Rita and Zack back in custody," said Lisbon, trying to contain her glee. "Better dig out your old jeans from the bottom of the drawer, Jane."

"You guys made some sort of a bet, didn't you?" said Van Pelt. "Well, whatever it is, I'm in."

"Are you sure?" asked Jane, eyes lighting up.

"Well, tell me what the bet is then," she said.

"Jane—" Lisbon warned.

"That's okay, Lisbon. The more the merrier."

"Can Cho and I be in too?" asked Rigsby.

Lisbon laughed. "I'm afraid it would be no real hardship for you and Cho if you lost."

Jane explained the wager, and by the time he finished, the entire team was laughing. Well, except Lisbon.

"So, you see, boys, you'd actually have fun if you lost. No deal," said Lisbon.

"They could go the other way," suggested Van Pelt. "They would only drink tea, and wear their suits, even at home. They could take us to the symphony or better yet, the ballet, or God forbid, read a classic novel."

"Cho wouldn't mind any of that," said Jane. "Either way, he'd be fine. He's what you might call a Renaissance man, our Cho."

"I never said I was in, anyway," said Cho. "Count me out."

"Well, Wayne?" said Van Pelt. "You scared of a little culture?"

"No, but then no way I'm losing this one." They shook hands on the deal, and Jane grinned from his place on the couch. Lisbon rolled her eyes, excusing herself to return to her office.

"I can't wait to watch you walk around the office in a tight little dress all day, fetching my coffee," Rigsby whispered to Van Pelt.

"Well, you'd better line up those ballet tickets," she replied mockingly, "Swan Lake is coming to the Forum."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A while later, Jane wandered in through Lisbon's open office door. She was on the phone, chasing down some lead, apparently, so he sat in the chair before her desk, waiting patiently for her to end her call.

"That was the medical examiner," Lisbon said. "Interesting thing about Jerry Morrison…seems he fired a gun that night too."

"Huh," said Jane noncommittally.

"Another interesting thing—Ardilles sure made his arrest quickly. He didn't even wait for all the examiner's reports. Now he's had to shuffle around his suspects. I bet he's pretty pissed off about that. It sure doesn't make him look good."

"It certainly doesn't," said Jane, pokerfaced.

Lisbon leaned forward against her desk, staring into Jane's seemingly guileless eyes.

"What did you do, Jane?"

"Now why would you think I did anything, Lisbon?"

"Ha, don't give me that." Then a horrifying thought occurred to her. "You talked to Ardilles didn't you? You somehow got him to arrest Rita."

"I don't know where you get these crazy i—"

"What do you have on Ardilles, Jane?"

"Nothing."

"Okay, what does he think you have on him?"

"I've often heard that in situations like these, I have the right to remain silent."

Lisbon's hands slid into her hair and she closed her eyes, groaning as if she were in intense pain. Which, in a way, she was.

"I can't believe you would jeopardize a murder investigation just so you could win a childish bet."

"Well, the truth is," he admitted reluctantly, "they're both guilty."

"How do you figure that?"

"They made a pact, Lisbon. They both held the gun to Jerry's head, they both pulled the trigger together, so neither of them could rat the other out."

"Well, how do you explain the fact that Morrison shot a gun too?"
"The best I can figure, they thought after the fact of making it appear to be a suicide, so they put the gun in his cold, dead hand and shot the thing out the window."

"Then why didn't they leave the gun in his hand to complete the ruse?"

Jane chuckled. "Maybe they saw someone coming—Billie Sue?—they panicked, and stupid Rita accidentally took it with her."

"And why couldn't it have been stupid Zack?"

"Back to that, are we? It's always about sex with you," he mocked.

She ignored his wisecrack. "There's no proof of any of this, and Billie Sue recanted. And without a murder weapon…"

"Ardilles will sort it out. I bet he has the state police dragging the river right now."

"Yeah, that's what I heard. And thanks for sharing all your insight with me, first," she said sarcastically.

"We were in a competitive situation, Lisbon. I couldn't divulge information that might give you false hope."

"Gee, thanks for that. But damned if you couldn't get Ardilles to arrest Rita first. Your plan kind of backfired, though didn't it?"

"Actually, no. When I figured out what really happened, I thought this plan would buy me some time—enough time for me to get at least a couple days of you in a skirt. I underestimated how long it would take for the evidence to catch up with my steel trap mind." He tapped his temple for emphasis.

"You're a pig."

"Now, Lisbon, calling me a name like that is far beneath you, and certainly a sign of a poor loser."

"How about jerk? Idiot? Jackass? I could go on and on…"

He grinned. "I suppose pig is acceptable."

They were quiet a moment, regarding one another with amusement and resignation, respectively.

"So I guess this nullifies our bet," Lisbon ventured hopefully.

"Why do you say that? You were clearly wrong in your conjecture. Rita shot him."

"Well, for one thing, if what you say is ever proven, we were both wrong. Zack did it too, by your own admission."

"So, we were both wrong. Or we were both right. Either way, we should both meet the terms of the wager, if only to be fair."

"You've got to be kidding me. On what planet does that even make sense?"

"It would make sense on Mars," Jane replied, a secretive smile lighting his eyes.

"Yeah, well, that's the only place. This is Earth, by the way, since you obviously need reminding."

"So, we start tomorrow? Do you need to take off early to buy a new dress?"

"No."

"Well, I for one am looking forward to it." He stood up, suddenly dying for a cup of tea.

"Hey, wait," Lisbon said. He stopped at the door and turned back to her. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What's that, Lisbon?"

"Why, your end of the bargain. I think it should start tonight. Shooting range after work?"

Jane grinned. "It will be my pleasure."

"But more mine, I'm sure," Lisbon said, looking forward to the pitiful spectacle that would be Jane with a gun.

He winked at her, and went off in search of tea, his happy whistle echoing in the hall.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You old hustler," exclaimed Lisbon, as the target stopped on its return track right in front of them. Every one of Jane's shots had hit either the heart or the head of the mock perp target.

"Where the hell did you learn to shoot like that?" she asked him. He took off his goggles and ear protection, setting Lisbon's Glock down carefully on the counter.

"Carnival shooting gallery," he said simply.

"So, all these years your gun-shy reactions were just an act?"

He shrugged. "I know my way around guns, doesn't mean I have to like them."

He did save her life with one once upon a time. She should have known. It was obvious he'd had some practice and training somewhere along the way, however, with real weapons.

She shook her head at him. "Then why'd you let me stand behind you at first and show you how to shoot?"

"Far be it from me to turn down the help of a beautiful lady."

She blushed.

"Pig," she muttered, for the second time that day.

Jane smiled. "You did well too, Lisbon," he commented, admiring her own target. "The fact that they are all head shots indicates you have some rather deep-seated resentment toward intelligent men."

"You don't know the half of it."

"You want to go again? I feel the testosterone coursing through my veins like never before."

She took her Glock and re-holstered it, then removed her own protective wear.

"No," she said. "I'm tired. It's been a long day." If he didn't know her better, he'd say she was pouting.

"Don't be a sore loser, Lisbon. I could give you a few pointers—"

"Go to hell, Jane."

He followed her out of the CBI shooting range and out into the cool evening air. He escorted her to her Mustang, wishing her a fond farewell and again expressing his anticipation for her next day's ensemble.

"Remember, it's all in the attitude too, you know."

"Yeah, remember that tomorrow night, when you're out on the basketball court."

For the first time, he looked genuinely concerned. "Are you playing?"

"Nope. It's all boys. But I'll be cheering you on from the sidelines."

She opened her car door and slid inside, and Jane pushed her door gently closed. She rolled down her window and he leaned down, his face closer to hers than she was expecting. Patrick Jane's broad smile up close was dazzling, even in the half-light of early evening.

"You and Van Pelt should coordinate your wardrobes," he suggested. It's going to be an exciting day at the CBI tomorrow."

"Don't forget your gym shorts and sneakers," she said with a grin of her own. She started the Mustang and drove away, satisfied that she, for once, had gotten in the last word.

A/N: Okay, I know there might be holes in the case you can drive a truck through, but I hope you'll forgive those in the interest of the silliness and romance to come. Yes, the romance will be amped up soon.

Thanks for reading. Reviews are always welcome and much appreciated!