A/N: Again, I want to thank you for the inspiring reviews as well as apologize that I haven't been able to reply. I read every one, and appreciate your lovely and encouraging words.

Remember at the beginning of this fic, when I warned you things may get silly? Well, here's the reason behind that, so prepare yourself. It will make it easier on all of us if you just relax and enjoy the ride…

Chapter 4: Poles Apart

The next morning, Lisbon found Jane fast asleep on his bullpen couch, a piratical eye patch on his injured eye. She could see the bruising just beneath it, and she shuddered a little just thinking of how much it must have hurt. And he'd gotten it for her.

She adjusted the blanket around him, then, heart racing a bit, she gently kissed his brow like she would have when one of her brothers was sick. It was obvious he was on pain medication, so unusually soundly did he sleep, even snoring softly in a way that made her smile.

Poor Jane.

Part of her also had looked forward to his reaction to her outfit this morning, so she was disappointed that he slept. It was a vintage skirt set she had found at a shop downtown on her lunch hour the day before. It was a light gray plaid and she wore it with a light pink blouse that tied at the neck, beige pumps on her feet. She'd set her hair on hot rollers that morning, pulling the sides back to clip high on the back of her head. She felt pretty and feminine—a feeling she certainly wasn't used to having on the job.

Other women had commented on how cute she looked both this day and the day before, and the men had smiled in appreciation. She'd tried not to dwell on what Jesse had said yesterday, about how some men had wondered about her sexuality. It shouldn't have bothered her so much, because she didn't feel exactly insulted by it, but she certainly didn't want to be sending eligible men the wrong message. Not that there was any particular man she wanted to attract. Okay, not one that didn't already know her sexual proclivities. Didn't he? Could that be a reason why he never-?

She laughed to herself. No, of course that couldn't be why he'd never acted on the love he'd proclaimed to have for her last year. That was ridiculous. It was because he still loved his wife, of course. Right? He'd known she'd been engaged before to a man, and she was pretty sure he knew about her one-night-stand with Walter Mashburn. Also, it was no real secret that she did go on the occasional date with a man, though it was never serious, and rarely turned into a second date. No, it had to be Jane himself that was standing in the way of what could be. Well, and he must have sensed her own hesitance, even though she loved him with all her heart.

She shook her head at her wayward musings, then tucked the blanket around Jane a little more tightly. People who judged her on her appearance should be ashamed of themselves, she thought. This was a government workplace, after all, and there was no room for overt sexual displays. But as she walked back to her office, feeling the gentle bounce of her curls on her back, she wondered if there wasn't some happy medium somewhere.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane sat up a few hours later, disoriented. The entire left side of his face hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, and his mouth was as fuzzy as his brain from the pain pills.

"You okay?" asked Van Pelt from her nearby desk.

"Yeah. I would kill for some tea though."

She smiled at him, having heard the whole story of his gallantry on the basketball court from Rigsby.

"And I'd be happy to get it for you. Don't get up—you look like a half-drunken pirate."

Jane attempted a grin, but it pulled at the skin beneath his eye and turned it into more of a flinch. He watched Van Pelt leave in her sixties sailor-themed dress, and turned his head toward where the men would normally be. They were gone, so he assumed they must be out on a case.

Lisbon had been watching through the glass walls of her office and happened to see Jane sitting up. She adjusted the bow at her neck and went out into the bullpen.

"Hey, sleepyhead," she said brightly. "How are you feeling?"

"About as good as I look," he grumbled, but his good eye lit up a little at her attire. "You, however, look adorable," he said.

She blushed, and to his great delight, she actually turned a quick little circle to show herself off. Aw, he thought, someone's a little more confident today.

"Lovely," he said.

"Thank you." She stepped closer to the couch, and to his immense surprise, she reached out and gingerly touched his sore cheek. "Can I get you anything?"

He swallowed, resisting the temptation to lean his burning face into her cool hand.

"Van Pelt is off for my tea, but I might need someone to drive me to get something to eat in a bit; I'm on some pretty heavy barbiturates. Boy, did those pills give me some crazy dreams. I actually dreamed you tucked me in and kissed my forehead," he said.

Lisbon flushed to her hairline and dropped her hand. "Wow," she said, "you must be on drugs."

"Hm," he replied, with a small, knowing smile.

Her brow suddenly furrowed with concern. "Hey, we can call off tonight's payback if you like."

"No way. I never renege on a bet."

Her eyebrows shot up at that whopper, but in deference to his drug-addled brain, she let it slide for once.

"Okay, then. Maybe you should catch a ride from Rigsby."

"I might have to."

Van Pelt returned with his steaming tea, and Jane looked up at her gratefully.

"You, my dear, are a saint."

She smiled. "I hope I made it right." She set the blue cup and saucer in his hands.

He took a tentative sip of the hot beverage, then nodded his appreciation.

"Perfect. I'd make a witty remark about sailors and pirates, but right now, I got nothin'."

Van Pelt laughed. "That's okay."

"I'd say thank God for small favors," remarked Lisbon. "Let me know when you want to go to lunch, Jane. With Rigsby and Cho out, and Van Pelt having to man the phones, it will have to be me taking you."

"I have no objections to that," he drawled, looking up at her with one, slightly dazed green eye. "Where are the guys, anyway? I feel decidedly outnumbered."

"Rigsby took an early lunch to secure tickets to the ballet tomorrow night," said Van Pelt with a rather evil grin, "and I don't know what's up with Cho."

"He took some personal time," said Lisbon.

"Should we be worried?" asked Jane wryly.

"He's probably tired of the battle of the sexes around here lately," said Van Pelt.

"It's not so much a battle, as a skirmish, I think," said Jane. "Or maybe just a tiff."

"Oh, it's war, buddy," said Lisbon. "Don't ever doubt it for a minute."

Jane sipped his tea and watched Lisbon's gentle sashay back to her office.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane popped another pain pill before they entered the loud gentleman's club, charmingly called The Fox Hole. Rigsby had picked him up in front of his motel, grinning at Jane's much less formal attire-well-worn blue jeans, gray t-shirt, and Nikes, straight from the back of his closet. A lightweight blue jacket completed the casual ensemble, and Jane felt decidedly uncomfortable appearing with coworkers this way. He mainly only wore jeans around the motel, or if he had to run to the grocery store or laundromat. Lisbon knew well what would make him feel most uncomfortable, so kudos to her, he supposed.

The music was pumping out some hip-hop diddy from hell, and Jane's eye and head instantly throbbed in time. He followed Rigsby into the darkened club, his view of the stage blocked by the much taller man. Then Rigsby stopped at a table toward the front, and Jane beheld some of The Fox Hole's finest performers. The stage held four dance poles, and four dancing darlings, all in thongs and some with tasseled pasties, undulated and did daring acrobatic moves designed to show their best assets. Jane averted his eyes at the women dancing with their breasts bare.

Rigsby was grooving with the music, absorbing the preshow. They sat down and RIgsby leaned toward Jane with a gleeful smile. The guy was actually enjoying this already, Jane saw in disgust.

"This is the classiest joint like this in Sacramento," he said loudly, to be heard over the nearby speakers.

Jane's grin was strained. "That's a little scary," he said.

A waitress in short shorts and a halter that tied beneath her double-D's stopped at their table to take their drink orders. When she got closer, they saw that she wore what were meant to be fox ears nestled in her bleached hair, and a fluffy, red, fake fox tail emerged from the back of her shorts. Jane's eye scanned the room to see that every waitress was in the same getup, poor exploited girls.

"Welcome to The Fox Hole. I'm Marissa," she said, "What can I get for you handsome gentlemen?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask for tea, but one warning look from Rigsby and he ordered a Doppelbock. Rigsby rolled his eyes.

"He'll have a Bud Light, along with me. No, make that a pitcher; we're expecting two more."

"Sure thing, sweety," she said. Her bright blue eyes raked over the two men, apparently liking what she saw. Rigsby gave her his best smile.

"Domestic beer?" said Jane. "Seriously?"

"What's Lisbon gonna say when she sees you drinking that snooty imported stuff?"

"The agreement was beer," said Jane, "she didn't specify a particular brand."

"Well, I saved you more ribbing, so you can thank me later."

"Not when my mouth tastes like the dregs of a backyard still," he mumbled so Rigsby wouldn't hear him.

He watched the dancers dispassionately, wondering what had led them to lower themselves in such a manner.

"That girl on the far left," he began to Rigsby.

"Yes, oh my God! I love it when women have dimples on their lower back like that."

"Well, judging by the shape of her navel, Dimples there has at least two kids at home, probably from two different fathers. That tattoo on her thigh is fake. See, the eye of the tiger is actually right over the cigarette burn daddy number two gave her this morning when breakfast was undercooked."

Rigsby's smiled faded. "You're really taking all the fun out of this."

"Wait'll I get started on bachelorette number two…"

"Please, don't."

Jane sat back in his chair and grinned. Now he was starting to enjoy this. He looked around, watching the reactions of the other patrons, most of them men, of course, and many there for phase one of a bachelor party. He wondered where Lisbon was. Maybe she wouldn't show up and he could go home, claiming he'd made the requisite showing and had gone home with a migraine.

Their beer arrived and the waitress poured them their first glass, standing purposefully close to Jane, her breast brushing suggestively against his shoulder. She smiled, and her foxtail bounced enticingly behind her when she walked away.

Jane took a drink of his beer and grimaced. It reminded him too much of his poor carnie days. Lisbon and Van Pelt soon arrived and sat down beside them, grinning from ear-to-ear at Jane's obvious discomfort.

"Hey," she said near his ear, inadvertently giving him a slight chill. "Nice outfit. Why don't you stand up and let me see it from all angles." She rotated her finger for emphasis, and Jane had to smile.

"Sure, why not?"

He stood, holding out his arms and turning slowly in a tight circle. His raised arms allowed both Lisbon and Van Pelt a good look at his very sexy, denim-encased ass, and they nodded to him in genuine approval. Van Pelt even clapped, as did a couple of waitresses who'd had their eyes on Jane since he walked in the club.

He bowed and smiled shyly, pretending it didn't make his eye throb, then sank gratefully back into his chair.

"Where's that fetching suit you were wearing earlier?" he asked, noting in minor disappointment the return of her jeans and button-up blouse.

"Oh, I'm off the clock. Even sixties girls slipped on their peddle-pushers after work."

"Van Pelt still has her outfit on."

They both glanced over to the other side of the table, where Grace and Rigsby were pointing out different women in the room and laughing together. Lisbon's eyes narrowed, and she looked pointedly away. She didn't want to know.

"How's the eye?"

"It feels like someone is stabbing it with a hot poker, but other than that…thanks for asking."

He took a sip of beer.

"Sorry," she said. She was about to thank him for the reason he'd gotten himself injured, but this wasn't exactly the time or place. Also, it was a little surreal speaking to him while four half-naked women undulated on poles in front of them.

"You like any of these ladies," she teased. "Pretty damn sexy, don't you think?"

She smirked, for it was obvious he'd rather be about anywhere else in the world at the moment.

"Oh, they're all right, if you're not a big fan of the feminine mystique."

"Now that's not the attitude of a hot-blooded male," she said dryly. "Loosen up and enjoy the scenery. That's the point of all this, remember?"

His eye roamed over her pretty face, almost as familiar to him as his own. "I happen to think the most attractive location for dimples is on a woman's face," he said seriously. Her hair still hung in curls, and he reached out, allowing one to coil around his finger a moment. Then he sat back, picked up his beer, and took another sip, his good eye still on hers as he drank.

She looked at him in confusion, but blushed at the heated way he was looking at her rather than the strippers onstage. How many men besides Patrick Jane could be in a strip club and ignore the stage. Lisbon took a hearty drink of her own beer to help calm her sudden nervousness. But their momentary spell was broken by the drastic lowering of the music and a white spotlight shining brightly on the stage. A brawny man in a beautiful suit emerged from behind the red curtains, a microphone gripped in his hand.

"Gentleman, and you ladies out there," he began, nodding at Lisbon and Van Pelt, "I'm pleased to formally welcome you to The Fox Hole. I hope you're enjoying yourselves so far."

There was a cacophony of calls, claps and whistles, and the MC smiled widely.

"Well, if you've had fun with Sugar, Amber, Honey, and Ginger"-each of the girls on the poles did a last sensual move, then bowed and made their exits amidst enthusiastic applause—"you're gonna love the main attraction." The music rose slightly, and the opening riff of Jimmy Hendrix's "Foxy Lady" filled their ears.

"Whooo!" called Rigsby.

"There's something we have to face, gentleman," continued the MC. "This is no longer a man's world. Times have changed, and women aren't just housewives or school teachers. Some are even…doctors!"

From behind the curtain stepped a woman in a white lab coat, a stethoscope around her neck, black stilettos on her feet. She had a serious expression on her face as she walked to the end of the runway that jutted out into the crowd.

"But even doctors have to let their hair down at the end of a long, hard day."

She pulled her lab coat open and revealed a luscious physique beneath in an emergency red string bikini. The men roared their approval. She danced around a bit, shaking her ass and squatting near the edge of the stage to allow the patrons to slip bills into her g-string. Slowly, her skimpy top disappeared, and she continued to dance a while longer, collecting tips, completely topless.

Suddenly a wad of ones appeared in Jane's hand.

"Go on," said Lisbon. "Part of the deal, remember?"

Jane looked from the stack of singles to Lisbon. "Must I?"

"Yes," she said, her eyes sparkling. Like a man condemned, Jane stood and walked to the stage, waving the cash so the good doctor would look his way.

He found an empty space on her g-string and slipped the entire stack against her damp, glittery skin. She looked down at the gorgeous, one-eyed blond and smiled her thanks. He returned his best grin, thankful the pills must have kicked in and it didn't hurt so badly just to smile. She stumbled a bit on her stilettos in awe of his beauty.

Lisbon shook her head. Not even strippers were immune to the man's charm.

"Thank you Dr. Love," called the MC when she'd finished her performance. She made her way to one of the empty poles.

Lisbon leaned close to speak to Van Pelt. "And here I was accused of setting back the women's movement. It's like time has been frozen in here."

Van Pelt laughed wryly.

"You know, gentlemen," continued their host, "you will even find women are the bosses in the world of business…"

Out came another woman, this one in a tight skirt, white collared shirt, hair in a bun, with horn-rimmed glasses resting on her creamy cheeks. She even held a briefcase. The strip tease and money harvest was repeated, and she too took a pole.

Next came a construction worker, complete with hardhat and work boots, while the MC continued his ironic narrative of women's rise in the world of work. After Miss Hard Hat left the main stage, suddenly, the lights dimmed, Jimmy Hendrix's slow, sexual beat was replaced by the startling cacophony of sirens blazing. Automatically, the three CBI agents went for where their guns normally would be before they remembered they were all unarmed for the evening.

Jane grinned in supreme amusement. Once a cop…

The lights strobed bright red, and a bit of a commotion began behind them at the club's main entrance.

"Oh, my God, ladies and gentlemen! It's a raid!"

Down the center aisle came a woman dressed as a police officer—minus the pants—blowing on her whistle and bouncing a billy club against one hand. She wore aviator sunglasses, her black leather jacket opened to her cleavage, the requisite thong, and her dark hair piled beneath a police cap.

"Oh man, oh man! She must be here to make an arrest!" said the MC. "I'm sure none of you will come quietly with her as your arresting officer!"

There were a few laughs at his obscene joke, and Officer Friendly began surveying the room in search of a likely suspect. She stopped along the way, mock-frisking a few men in exchange for tips, until she found her man, who by the will of the gods happened to be Jane. She stopped before him, pointing her club at his groin.

"Mister," she breathed, moving closer to him, legs spread wide. "You're under arrest!"

"What's the charge," asked Rigsby around his chortles of laughter.

"For being criminally handsome and stealing my heart."

The crowd laughed and cheered, while Lisbon looked heavenward.

Jane's eye widened as the stripper set her club on the table and slowly unsnapped her jacket, so everyone could clearly see she wore nothing underneath. She slowly reached up, giving him a glimpse of one tan breast, and removed her cap, shaking her long hair out so it floated about her shoulders. She kept on the aviators, and his eye went blearily to his own reflection.

"Put your hands behind your back and spread 'em," she ordered, stepping closer to insinuate one shapely leg between his thighs where he sat on the chair.

"You have the right to remain sexy. If you say anything, I will be held against you."

By this time, the combination of pain pills and alcohol were catching up with Jane, and he woozily complied. The cop's hands came to rest on Jane's shoulders, and she began frisking him, her long red nails gliding over his chest, then slipping beneath his shirt to skate fleetingly across his stomach. Jane gasped at the unexpected sensation while a new, pulsing beat picked up from the speakers, the red strobe lights making him feel a bit off balance.

Beside him, Lisbon tensed. She could only see Jane's profile, but he seemed sort of out of it. What the hell was wrong with him? She watched in awe as the woman lowered herself onto his lap, her buttocks squeezing as she moved forward atop his groin, holding onto the back of the chair for support. The crowd cheered and whistled.

Jane was only vaguely aware that he was receiving his first official lap dance, and he became a little confused. Things around him began to spin, and he felt like he was on the edge of consciousness. The face of the girl before him began to take on the characteristics of Lisbon's face as she leaned forward and whispered, "I love pirates. You want me to walk your plank, Captain Hook?"

"Teresa?" he said, his senses and body playing tricks on him. Lisbon's eyes shot to Jane in horror. Did he imagine this "cop" was her?

"No, baby, I'm Loretta," the stripper said.

This was not what Lisbon had envisioned for the evening at all.

"Hey," she said, getting up from her chair. "Get off of him!"

"Don't you mean, get him off, honey?" Loretta smirked. She was just doing her job; the dark-haired hottie at the other end of the table had paid her well to dance on this blonde hottie. Not a bad day's work.

"Get up, now," Lisbon practically growled. She whipped out her badge from her jacket pocket. "I'm a real cop, lady."

"Boss—" Rigsby began in alarm. It was just a lap dance, sheesh. What did she expect? He looked around in embarrassment.

"All right, all right! We were just having a little fun, weren't we baby?" Loretta said to Jane, who was leaning against the back of his chair, eyes closed.

The manager of the club was making his way over to them, while the crowd started booing in confusion.

"Come on up here, Officer Friendly. Looks like someone's had too much to drink." His eyes were on Lisbon, however, not Jane. Lisbon gave him a dirty look and focused on her partner.

"Everything all right over here?" asked the manager.

"Yes," said Lisbon. "Police business." And she showed her badge again.

"We don't want any trouble. Loretta was paid extra for this." He shook his head and wandered off, putting as much distance between him and the cop as possible.

Lisbon looked angrily at Rigsby, who withered under her gaze. "Sorry, Boss; I thought it would be funny."

"Well it's not. Something's wrong with him."

"He only had one glass of beer," reasoned Rigsby, picking up Jane's empty glass.

"Did he have any more pain pills?" asked Van Pelt. Lisbon checked his jacket pocket and found the prescription bottle, which clearly stated: Do not use alcohol while taking this drug.

"Holy shit, Jane! How many of these did you take?"

"Hmm?" said her consultant, looking up at her with a beatific grin. "Do you like pirates, Lisbon?"

"Let's get him out of here," said Lisbon, and the MC was gearing up for the next show.

Rigsby put his arm around Jane. "Can you walk?" he asked him.

"Maybe, but I'm setting out with bare poles, matey," he said, with a pirate's voice.

Lisbon rushed to get on his other side. "Lean on me, Captain Jack," said Lisbon sarcastically, and between the two of them, with Van Pelt clearing a path to the door, they managed to get Jane out and into Lisbon's car.

"He shouldn't be alone tonight, in case he gets sick…or slips into a coma, the idiot."

"I'd offer, Boss, but I don't have a couch," said Rigsby sheepishly. "I just have two recliners in the living room. Should I follow you two to your place and help you get him inside?"

Lisbon sighed. She supposed she could call Cho, but she didn't want to bug him on his night off, not with something that was technically her fault to begin with.

"Yeah, that's fine. I have a perfectly good couch, because that's what grown-ups do."

Rigsby shrugged. "I hate couches. They're never long enough for me…"

"You sure we shouldn't get his stomach pumped," said Van Pelt.

Lisbon looked at the bottle of pills, at the pill count listed on the label. She opened the cap and dumped a few into her hands.

"By my count, he's only had three total. I know he already took one or two last night, so he couldn't have had more than two today. I think he'll be all right."

"You want me to come with you and help you get him settled?"

"That's okay, Grace. You go on home. Thanks for coming. I feel like I keep getting deeper and deeper in debt with this stupid bet."

"If that's what you want…"

"See ya later, Grace," said Rigsby. And Lisbon ignored the impression she got that things were definitely on again with these two. Was the whole planet peopled with idiots, male and female alike?

By the time they reached Lisbon's apartment, Jane was completely passed out. RIgsby threw him effortlessly over his shoulder, sack of potatoes style, and laid him as gently as he could on Lisbon's very grown-up couch.

"Thanks, Rigsby. And in the future, if you want to change the terms of our wager, would you let me know, please?"

Rigsby flushed. "Sorry, Boss. Call me if you need any more help with him. Looks like he'll be out for the rest of the night, I'm guessing."

"Okay, see you tomorrow."

Lisbon shut the door behind him and turned to her unexpected guest. She switched on the lamp by the couch and busied herself pulling off his shoes. She knelt down beside him in order to lean him forward and remove his jacket. As he rested, a dead weight, against her shoulder, she took a moment to breathe him in.

His cologne smelled clean and subtle and infinitely arousing, and his hair was soft and fine as a child's. Her hands toyed with his curls for a moment while enjoying his comforting warmth against her body. She reluctantly settled him back against the throw pillows. Lisbon felt a familiar, sweet tenderness toward him, an ache in her heart for all he had gone through in his life, especially for what he'd done for her yesterday.

"Aw, Jane," she said on a sigh. "You are such a complicated man. And I'm the idiot, for even trying to figure you out."

His eye patch had been knocked askew and she gingerly lifted it to check how well his eye was healing. She knew these things usually looked worse before they got better, so if that was any indication, it should be all downhill from here. She put the patch back in place.

Lisbon retrieved a top sheet and blanket from the linen closet, draping them over his still body. She'd often dreamed of being alone with Jane in her apartment, but the circumstances she'd imagined had been much different from this scenario. She smiled and leaned over him for the second time that day. This time, however, she pressed her lips to his for a brief, tremulous moment, savoring their fullness, their softness. This would provide all new fodder for fantasies to come, with the added bonus of the rakish eye patch.

"Good night, me hearty," she said with a grin. Then she turned out the light to let him sleep it off.

A/N: Okay, so this was totally silly and would never happen in a million years, but I had fun. Did you?