Disclaimer: The Mentalist show and characters are the property of Bruno Heller, Primrose Hill Productions, Warner Bros. Television, CBS,…

Author's Notes: All your reviews had me grinning like an idiot all day. I take this opportunity to thank you all again for your insight and motivation. This chapter has been difficult to write; obviously dialogue is not my strong point. I'm not really sure about this but I've done enough tweaking. I hope you like it either way. Beware of swearing.

Enjoy.

Their fifth meeting was all talk and no sex.

Had she known she would have forgone her glass of white wine and gone straight to the motel they had chosen. Yes, she picked sex over talking and sharing feelings any day. In the end he was the one to start the conversation. He always surprised her like that; it was another of his traits that she didn't really appreciate.

Subconsciously she knew they should have talked directly after last time. But she had been scared and always pushed it for later until she almost forgot about it. Now here they were.

"I know you've been having questions about last time." His voice was soft but his eyes were trained on his beer bottle. She could almost pretend he hadn't spoken.

"Jane… "

"I think we need to talk."

"I don't," she faltered, "I don't know what to say."

"You know what you want to say, you're just afraid." There was a tinge of anger in his voice. Why was he angry with her? She hadn't been the one to ask for more. He had done that on his own.

"Why are you angry with me? I didn't ask anything from you." It was an angry whisper. She didn't want to do this here. She didn't want to do this, period. She was sure she was going to lose her control at some point and she didn't want any witnesses.

"I'm angry at the situation." Of course he would be the one to remain calm and matter of fact. She hated it.

"We shouldn't do this here. Come on, let's go." She stood up and put on her jacket. She fished a bill out of her jeans pocket and gave it to the bartender, mentioning it was for both of them. She was ready to turn around and leave when she noted he hadn't moved. "Fine, whatever. Stay if you want to, I don't care."

"You care. Don't pretend otherwise, you always do." He was smug, like he knew more about her than she ever would. He probably did. The nerve of the man.

She glared at him, huffed, turned on her heels and left. She would show him. She was almost at her SUV when someone roughly grabbed her by the arm. She bit her lip to refrain from screaming and was going to defend herself when she saw the blonde curls and three-piece suit. His body was close and his face dark. "What the… ?"

"Don't you walk away from me," he hissed at her, "don't you leave me like this."

"Jane, let me go." Her voice was enough to make him realize what he was doing. He let her go as if the leather was burning him and took a step back for good measure.

She stared at him while he tried to put his mask back together. It seemed they were going to have to talk now, whether she liked it or not. She admitted a dark, deserted parking lot wasn't a better place but at least they didn't have an audience.

He took a deep breath, "you shouldn't keep it all bottled up inside. You know we have to talk; we can't let things get bad between us. It wouldn't be beneficial for our working relationship."

For some reason the mention of work made her even angrier.

"Don't you think I know that? Don't you fucking think I know that?" His eyes widened at her use of profanity. "You want to talk? Let's talk then! Why do you think we have been doing this? I don't want you to feel or care for me. Why do you think I chose you? For your good looks?" She let out a hollow laugh. "Jane, it's because you're a safe bet. You're the only person I know who could do this and wouldn't want more. At least that's what I thought." She shrugged helplessly, still seething inside. What now?

"Of course I don't want more! I did what I did because you deserve it. You deserve to be taken care of. You always do for others and never expect anything back in return, always so hell-bent on controlling everything. You should let go once in a while. Let me do this one thing I can for you, my way of repaying you for what you're putting yourself through." His eyes were pleading with her to understand. To accept his reasoning.

"I'm not putting myself through anything." She stared at him in defiance.

"Oh please, Lisbon, you're doing this to punish yourself. I haven't figured out why though. Tell me, why do you do this? Huh? Misplaced sense of guilt? Afraid to get hurt if you get too involved so you chose the only man who is as emotionally unavailable as can be? Or maybe you were abused as a kid and it fucked you up so bad you think you're unworthy of love and affection?" His voice held disdain and contempt. He would have continued with his tirade if it weren't for the way she flinched at the last remark. Oh. Damn.

He immediately felt sorry. He hadn't wanted to hurt her. He just wanted her to open up to him, to tell him things. He had pushed and gone too far.

"I'm sorry," he said lamely.

She looked away, "it's okay."

"No, no. I didn't mean to... "

"Drop it." Her sharp voice interrupted him. The cold glare convinced him to let it go. For now.

They looked at each other for what seemed like hours, not knowing what to do. It was as if they were miles apart although, in reality, mere centimeters separated them. The expression in her eyes clearly told him how upset she was. He could only stand there and look at her with his sorrow filled eyes. Sorrow for her, for them, for the situation. For everything that had gone wrong in his life.

"Are we okay?" He seemed uncertain, his body rocking from one foot to the other. He reminded her of a little boy that had done something wrong. It wasn't far from the truth.

She was rigid before him, her stand defensive. She was confused and upset. She should just walk away and let him drown in his self-pity. She couldn't do it though, couldn't leave him like this. She used to be stronger than this, damn it. Used to let nothing and no one past her defenses. Until he came into her life, until Minelli had the wonderful idea to put this broken and troubled man into her trusted hands. Now here she stood. Unable to make a decision, unable to leave, unable to move.

She made the mistake to look into his eyes and understood what her heart had known all along. She couldn't leave him. So she stayed.

"We continue what we've been doing so well." Her lips stretched into a small smile. He grinned back, that beautiful smile that lighted up his whole face. The smile that made you want to grin like an idiot in return. She managed to hold back, had had a lot of practice in that department over the last few months.

"On one condition." Her gut twisted in anticipation. What was he going to ask of her now? That she use his given name? "Let me be an equal. It would mean a lot to me."

She looked at him, unsure if it was a wise idea.

"Please," he begged, "it won't mean anything more. Just pleasure."

"I don't know if…" She trailed off, not knowing what to say. How to explain her fears and apprehensions.

"Lisbon, I know you don't want more. Like we mentioned before I don't want more either. This doesn't mean we shouldn't experience equal pleasure, shouldn't both give and take."

His eyes were honest and really, his explanation seemed logical. It didn't mean anything. This was just about sex. She could deal with that.

"Okay. I guess."

She didn't have the time to react before he was hugging her tightly to his familiar and strong body. She was too surprised to respond, her arms hanging uselessly by her sides. Only one thought kept running through her head.

She gave into him. She always gave into him. She could only hope this wouldn't end up in a disaster for both of them.

She tentatively hugged him back.