Disclaimer: Still isn't mine.

Rating: T

You guys are wonderful to be so patient with me, and my very long gaps between updates. As a sign of my gratitude, this chapter is quite a bit longer than the others, so I'm hoping that'll score me some brownie points.

In all honesty, Lisbon had been shocked when Jane had actually heeded her words and gone upstairs to take his nap. He really must have been exhausted, for he'd barely bothered to fight her on it at all, just meekly obeyed. But in spite of this, Lisbon had still expected Jane to come barrelling back down the stairs less than half an hour later, citing that he was perfectly refreshed now when it was quite clear that he hadn't slept a wink. It was a stunt he often pulled at the CBI.

Lisbon knew perfectly well that when he was sprawled on his couch in the middle of the day with his eyes closed, the picture of innocence, that the chances of his actually being asleep were practically nil. She imagined that he probably just lay there and listened to everything going on around him, forming opinions, making judgements, his mind ticking over with information. It was like he was spying on them all, in a way, by lulling them into the illusion that they could speak freely around him while all the while he eavesdropped and took it all in, filed it all away, ready to be brought up later at the opportune moment.

She listened for any signs of life from upstairs. None. She hoped that meant he had really gone to sleep, and wasn't just lying around on the bed, brooding. She was doing enough of that for the both of them at the moment. His odd behaviour ever since he'd arrived back had been plaguing her mind ever since she'd sent him upstairs.

It was almost as though he were two different people, kissing her with such purpose and passion one minute, and then the next, freaking out like a little boy who knew he'd just done something wrong. When he'd appeared in the kitchen doorway he walked towards her like he couldn't get to her fast enough, but then after he'd broken off the kiss, it had been like he couldn't get away from her fast enough.

She just couldn't understand how he could make her feel so wanted and loved, and then so alienated in the space of about thirty seconds.

But that was Jane all over, turning his moods and desires on and off so erratically that it was impossible for even him to keep up, so God only knew how she was expected to. Damn the man for being so confusing.

She let out a long; low sigh as her cell phone rang.

"Lisbon," she answered, in a clipped tone.

"Tessie," Nick's warm voice came down the phone line. "How's my favourite CBI agent this afternoon?"

Despite her exasperation with her consultant, Lisbon managed a tiny smile at this comment.

"What are you talking about?" she said. "I'm the only CBI agent you know."

"Exactly. So you've got no competition."

"I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted."

Nick chuckled.

"As always, Tessie, you pull no punches. And much as I'd love to keep on chatting, this isn't purely a social call."

"It isn't?" asked Lisbon, noting the change from his pleasant tone of voice, to the more official one she herself used for 'business' conversations.

"Unfortunately, no. See, the thing is my superiors are on my back for an update on the progress. Raid goes down ten days from now; they're getting a little anxious for intel. So they asked, well ordered really, me to give you a call. See how things are going."

"Right," Lisbon said, riffling through her mind for excuses. Of course, she did have a reason for the lack of progress, but she had a sneaking suspicion that "I've been busy fighting with/making out with my consultant" might not cut it, somehow.

"So," Nick pressed. "How are things going?"

"Honestly?" said Lisbon. "Not as well as I'd like."

"That doesn't sound like you, Tess," said Nick, sounding concerned. "What's going on?"

More than anything, Lisbon wanted to tell him. She wanted to unload all the weirdness and awkwardness and confusion of the last few days onto someone else, if only to clear a little space in her head. Her mind was so crowded with conflicting thoughts about the 'Jane situation' it was like she could think of nothing else.

And Nick was one of her oldest, most trusted friends. She'd always been able to lean on him, back at the academy. Surely that would still hold true now, even all these years later.

But she knew she couldn't. This was her mess, her problem to solve. She'd allowed her personal feelings for Jane to interfere with her work, and now she just had to deal with the consequences. She had no business dragging Nick into her screwed-up personal life.

"Nothing's wrong," she lied. "It's just taking a little longer than I expected."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," she said, deliberately colouring her voice with a confidence she did not feel.

"Well, in that case," said Nick, though he still sounded doubtful. "The guys upstairs have asked that I pass on a friendly little reminder to you, Tessie. Time's ticking on. We need results. Soon."

"I hear you," she said. "And I promise we'll get something soon. We've been mixing with the locals, making contacts, it won't be long now."

"I hope so," he said. "I'll call again in a day or two, assuming I don't hear from you first."

"Sure."

"OK." There was a pause, in which she thought that Nick might be thinking of saying something else, so she quickly sought to counteract it.

"Talk to you later, Nick."

"Take care, Tess."

She ended the call, relieved.

Jane opened his eyes, with a curious heavy sensation in his head. It seemed that his usually inexhaustible energy supplies had finally given out on him, and he had actually managed to fall asleep. Sure, it had only been a short nap, but it was better than the half-hour's sleep he'd managed to get last night, and certainly better than nothing.

His mind seemed to be taking a little longer than usual to wake up this afternoon. He was having some difficulties remembering how he had come to be here, in Lisbon's bed. He was sure of that much at least, as it was the only bed in the house.

He remembered the diner, Annabelle, coming home, taking Lisbon into his arms and kissing her (and if there were any justice in the world, he would never, ever forget that part.) Everything after that was kind of a blur. He remembered feeling immensely guilty about something, the concern in Lisbon's eyes, her telling him to go get some sleep.

He pulled himself gingerly into a sitting position, yawning, glancing around the room. If he hadn't known better, he never would have suspected that Lisbon had been inhabiting this room for the better part of a week. All the surfaces were bare, no toiletries or personal items on the shelves or chest of drawers. There weren't even any of her pyjamas under the pillow. It was like she was trying to personalize the room as little as possible, making it clear to anybody who cared to know, as well as herself, that this situation was 100% temporary.

The only clue that she had been here at all was her suitcase, tucked neatly out of sight inside of the closet.

Typical Lisbon, everything in it's place, ordered and organised. Even here in the bedroom, her place of sanctuary in their strange new life, she was unable to fully unwind or relax. Her guard remained up, 24/7. Well, except for last night's little lapse…

He tried not to think about how good it had felt to have her in his arms, how well their bodies had fit together, and especially not about just how intoxicating those kisses had been. The idea of taking this nap was to try and clear his head, not to jumble it up even more.

Still, he could not think about it as much as he wanted, but it wouldn't take away the fact that the apple scent still lingered on the pillow even now.

Just as a reminder that he probably couldn't stop thinking about her for even one second.

He got up off the bed, sighing, and walked out the door.

All too soon, Lisbon heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Her awkward conversation with Nick was still weighing heavily on her mind, and now she had to deal with Jane as well.

He appeared around the door, and grinned at her.

"Good afternoon, my dearest."

In spite of her apprehension, she had to admit that she was pleased to see that big smile again, and to hear the typical charming, yet totally unprofessional greeting. The enforced downtime had done him good. His skin was no longer as pale, and his eyes had their cheeky twinkle back. In essence, he seemed more like himself again.

This was a relief. She'd spent the last few years doing her best to decipher the many moods of Patrick Jane. She'd learned how to ride out the phases of revengeful mania, to give him the space he needed during the periods of despondency that sometimes bordered on clinical depression, and how to keep her cool when he was being his usual pain-in-the-ass self. Together, they'd experienced both the highs and lows of police work, laughed together, planned together, and stuck together (to a point) in times of adversity. She'd always thought that she knew him better than most people, indeed she was something of a Patrick Jane authority around the office or as Minelli had once put it, she was 'the only person who could even begin to know how to handle that lunatic.'

But this morning, she'd seen a whole new side to him. She'd seen more of his guilt and uncertainty in those few short minutes than in years of having known him. It had unnerved her to see him so uncontrolled and vulnerable, his personal demons out in the open for all to see.

It was like she'd been given a glimpse into the innermost sanctum of Jane. And she hadn't liked what she saw.

Truth be told, she much preferred laughing, joking, asshole Jane to the version she'd experienced today. She knew how to handle the asshole version. When it came to this new type, she had nothing.

And besides, even after all this time, it never got any easier to see him in pain. Asshole or not, she still cared about him. A lot. Maybe even a little too much, by professional standards. She pushed that thought away. Just because she wanted him to be happy didn't mean they were crossing any kind of line. But to be on the safe side, she'd better not tell anyone that she'd always kind of liked the way his eyes lit up with mischief whenever he was up to something. It made her think there just might be hope for him yet.

But now, she just had to pray that he didn't want to continue their conversation from before.

"Hey Jane. Feeling better?"

"Much."

"That's good."

"How long was I out?" he asked, sitting in the chair across from her.

"About two hours. I was just about to make myself a coffee. Want some tea?"

"Yes, thanks."

She turned around to the coffeemaker with a growing sense of unease. Something about this situation just didn't sit right with her.

Jane apparently was thinking along the same lines.

"Is something wrong, Lisbon?" she heard him ask.

She didn't dare turn around just yet, lest he see the apprehension she was sure was all over her face.

"What makes you ask that?" she said as calmly as possible.

"Well, since when do you and I ever have quiet, polite conversations?" said Jane.

"There's always a first time," she said bringing the two cups over to the table, and handing one to him.

"I guess," he said. "But I don't think politeness really suits us. It's so boring." He grinned at her again.

"There are a lot of words that come to mind when I think of you Jane, but 'boring' isn't one of them."

"See, there you go, a thinly-veiled insult. That's more like it."

She couldn't quite suppress a smirk at this remark, and when Jane caught her eye the weird atmosphere in the room suddenly broke. She felt herself relax as they fell into their usual routine of bickering. She hadn't even realized how hard she'd been gripping her cup of coffee until she let it go.

"If that was too subtle for you, I could always just punch you in the nose instead," she offered, taking a sip of the coffee. "I could enjoy that."

"I'm sure you would, my dear. And all in the name of clarity for me, of course."

"Of course. That's just the kind of person I am."

There was a silence for a moment as they both sipped some more of their drinks.

"Nick called while you were sleeping," she said. She saw Jane's eyes narrow, the way they always did whenever Nick was mentioned.

"Oh really? And what exactly did Mr Sheens want with you? A booty call? You know, for old time's sake?"

She scowled at him. "How many times do I have to tell you? It isn't like that. Nick and I are friends. That's it. We don't see each other that way."

"Yeah right," he said rolling his eyes. "Lisbon, any man who can look at you and say he doesn't want you is one of two things: either an idiot, or a liar. Which is he?"

"Which are you?" she shot back.

"Trust me," he said, looking deep into her eyes. "When it comes to you, I'm not either of those things."

To her embarrassment, Lisbon felt herself beginning to soften. So she ordered herself to snap out of it. She absolutely refused to be drawn into this line of conversation. After his minor meltdown this morning, she had made a promise to herself never to discuss that, or last night with him ever again. It was in the past now. But all the same, it was probably best to change the topic sooner rather than later.

"Actually he wanted to know what was taking so long with the case," she said. "Apparently the Feds think we're not working fast enough."

"Oh come on," he said. "It takes time to build trust. And if these people don't trust us, we'll never convince them to tell us anything. What else do they want us to do?"

"I don't know," she said. "But if we don't come up with something soon, we could blow the entire operation."

She'd been worrying about that ever since she'd gotten off the phone with Nick. She didn't like not being able to finish what she'd started. If they couldn't figure out who was running this cocaine ring this whole assignment would turn out to be totally pointless, and she'd have had to endure all of these crazy mind games of Jane's for nothing. There had to be some other way that they could approach this, rather than waiting around in the hopes that somebody would let something slip. They had to get more proactive.

"There has to be something more we can do," she said to Jane. "We've still got that list of drug dealing hotspots that Minelli gave us. We need to visit a few, and see what we can find."

She retrieved the envelope from the drawer where she'd stashed it the day they arrived. She could hardly believe it had only been a few days ago. So much had happened since then, it felt like at least a month, or more.

One name right at the top of the list was familiar: Iridissia, a bar a couple of blocks away.

"Vicky Madress mentioned this place," she said, pointing to it. "She said her husband likes to hang out there."

"Oh yeah, I've heard of that," said Jane. "A few of the guys were talking about it at the poker game. Sounded like it was pretty exclusive."

"I can't believe we didn't put it all together sooner!" she said, running her fingers through her hair in frustration. "We could have had this case closed days ago!"

"Don't beat yourself up about it," said Jane soothingly. "What's done is done."

He sounded a lot calmer than he felt. He too, was surprised that it had taken this long to make the connection. He'd let everything that happened with Lisbon get in the way of what they were really here for. Indeed, he'd barely had a non-Lisbon related thought in days. Being this close to her, for this long was screwing around with his objectivity, playing havoc with his ability to concentrate on other things. He hadn't been able to compartmentalize the way he normally did.

He disliked feeling so out of control of his own mind. He'd forgotten that this was what being in love did to you. It had been a long time.

"It wouldn't have mattered if we had figured it out sooner," said Lisbon, irritably. "How the hell are we going to get in?"

Jane thought for a moment, and then slowly, a smile spread across his face.

"What are you smirking at?" she asked him, still fuming at herself for her own stupidity.

"I can get us in."

"Sure. What are you going to do? Hypnotize the bouncer?" she asked, scathingly. "Irritate him to death?"

He sighed, pointedly. "Well I was just going to get our names on the list, but the whole murder by irritation thing sounds way more fun…"

"You have ten seconds to get to the point or so help me, when we get back to the CBI, that couch of yours is going to get acquainted with a pair of very sharp scissors." She glared at him to emphasize the point.

He smiled benignly at her, knowing that it would only make her more irritated.

"Can you hold that thought for just a minute? I just have to make a call."

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, feeling her eyes following the action.

"Five seconds Jane, or I swear to God that couch is history!"

"OK, OK, simmer down grumpy. I'll explain. One of the guys I was playing poker with was shall we say…betting beyond his means. He owes me."

"So?"

"Did I mention he's a part-owner of Iridissia?"

The sarcastic comment Lisbon had been preparing died on her lips.

"Are you serious?" she asked. Really, was it possible that they could be that lucky? But then again, she supposed she shouldn't be that surprised. She had never known anyone better than Jane at pulling a proverbial rabbit out of the hat.

He shook his head at her as he dialled the number. "Really, my dear," he said as he put the phone to his ear. "You need to have a little more faith in me."

After a few seconds, the call connected.

"Hank!" he exclaimed. "Will Hayne here, I'm sure you remember. Listen, I need you to do me a favour…"

Two hours later, Jane was to be found squinting into a mirror at the bottom of the staircase as he checked his tie was straight. He didn't often wear them, but tonight had called for him to trade his usually grey daywear for something a little more evening-appropriate.

There would be no room for error tonight. These people, if what he and Lisbon suspected of them were true, would almost certainly be on the alert for anything that wasn't as it should be. They had to blend in with the crowd and that meant dressing to impress.

From his psychic days, he knew enough about mixing with the beautiful people to have a reasonably good idea of what they could expect tonight. Annabelle's party had been child's play. This was the big leagues.

There was a knock at the door. Once satisfied with his tie, he went to answer it. He was unhappy, but unsurprised, to see Nick Sheens standing on the other side of it. Lisbon had insisted on calling him to let him know about the plan, and he in turn, had insisted on being a part of it.

"Agent Sheens."

"Mr Jane."

Reluctantly, Jane stood back to allow him into the house.

"Almost ready to go?" asked Nick.

"Yep," came Lisbon's voice from behind them as she hurried over to join them. She was wearing a new dress provided by the CBI tonight, a deep red this time, strapless, a little longer than the first one but just as form fitting. And he also couldn't help noticing the fantastic things it was doing for her cleavage. He wondered if Nick had noticed that too.

Not for the first time, he really wished she'd kept those emeralds he'd bought her back at that casino in Nevada. They'd have been perfect for tonight.

Nick wolf-whistled. "Wow, look at you Tessie. You look amazing in that dress."

She smiled a little, embarrassed.

"Oh, shut up."

"No, he's right," Jane chimed in. "You're stunning." He paused for a moment before adding "And the dress is lovely too."

She flushed a deep red and Jane sent a triumphant look over at Nick, who to Jane's disappointment merely raised an eyebrow. It seemed he was quite a cool customer. Never mind. Jane had extensive experience in messing with people; all he had to do was find the right button to push.

And make no mistake, when he found that button, he'd be jabbing at it with all his might.

"Now," said Nick, suddenly business-like. "This is how it's going to work. Tonight is a kind of reconnaissance mission, so all we need you guys to do is establish contact with these people, and figure out who the main players are. Don't do or say anything to try and make them incriminate themselves just yet, if we try and do this too fast they're going to be onto us in an instant."

He produced two small wireless microphones. Jane attached one to his lapel, and Lisbon to the top of the dress.

"No-one'll notice them if you don't draw any attention to them," he said.

"Oh damn, I'm glad you told me that," said Jane sarcastically. "I was just going to point it out to every person I talked to. 'I'm a snitch! Check out my awesome FBI-issued microphone. Now is there any criminal activities you'd like to confess to?'"

Lisbon gave him a hard, sharp slap on the arm. "Stop it Jane!" she hissed.

"OK, that's gotta stop right now," said Nick looking anxiously from one to the other. "From the second you walk out that door to the second you walk back in it again, you're not Teresa Lisbon and Patrick Jane. You're Will and Rachel Hayne. You're not work colleagues, you're a married couple. You're in love. Make them believe it, even though it's not true."

Who said it wasn't true? Jane thought to himself. Well maybe not the 'married' part, but the 'in love' part? He had that covered.

Lisbon was nervous. So many things could go wrong with this plan. One mistake, and the whole thing could be ruined. She took a deep, calming breath and forced herself to think rationally. It was up to her to make sure they didn't make any mistakes. It was her job. And if there was one thing Teresa Lisbon was good at, it was doing her job.

She shot a sidelong glance at Jane, now adjusting the microphone on his lapel. She had noticed that he did look particularly sexy in his black suit. Dark colours worked for him. His hair was in its usual state of messed-up perfection. Basically he just looked drop-dead gorgeous from head to toe. Surely it couldn't be that hard to pretend to be in love with him for a night.

'Sure Teresa," the irritating little voice in her head piped up. "Pretend."

She wanted to tell the little voice that it was wrong, but then he turned towards her and smiled at her, and for some reason, her mind went completely blank.

OK, so she probably wouldn't have to do much pretending after all.

Nick drove them both to Iridissia, and parked in the shadows a block away. It was all far too cloak-and-dagger for Jane's taste. They were, essentially, going for a drink, not staking out a terrorist cell. But Lisbon raised no objection, so he kept his silence.

"OK," said Nick. "I'm going to go find a place where I can keep an eye on the door. Give me ten minutes and then go inside. Remember: play it cool, don't draw too much attention to your mikes and don't break cover."

Lisbon nodded. Jane rolled his eyes. As if he needed any kind of instruction about how to deceive people. It was how he made his living for heaven's sake.

"Good luck," said Nick.

They listened to his footfalls dying away.

"You ready for this?" asked Jane.

"No way in hell."

"It'll be fine," he said, bracingly. "Just look like you're having fun, flash your cash around, make it look we've got money to burn and we won't even have to find these people, they'll come to us."

"So you say."

"I know," he corrected her. "They're always looking for rich suckers that they can get hooked on the stuff. Instant new revenue stream." She shot him a thoroughly unconvinced look, stretched her arms towards the ceiling, and sighed.

"How long has he been gone?" she asked.

Jane glanced at his watch. "Two minutes."

She laid her hand on the seat between them and started drumming her fingers nervously on the leather. He let this go on for about a minute before he gently put his hand over hers. She immediately started trying to pull her hand back.

"What do you think you're doing?" she snapped.

"Testing out how you'd react. And it's a good thing I did. If you reacted like that in there, you'd give us away."

She stopped trying to pull her hand away.

"Crap."

"We're supposed to be in love, remember? That's generally not what wives do when their husband tries to hold their hand."

"You're not my husband!"

"You heard what Nick said," said Jane patiently. 'Until we get back to the house I'm your husband and you're my wife."

She swallowed. Much as she hated to admit, Jane was right. People were counting on them. She owed it to everyone to do this properly. She nodded.

"Ready to give that another try?" he asked.

She shrugged. He let go of her hand and instead began to lean forward. Oh no, she couldn't let him kiss her again, she needed a clear head for this…

But as he got closer she noticed something else. She pulled away from before he got the chance to kiss her into oblivion (again.)

"I can see your ring."

"What?" he asked, confused. "Of course you can see my ring." He waved his left hand with the fake ring in front of her nose. "It's not exactly hard to spot…"

"No, not that ring you idiot, the other one!" She pointed to his neck, and then Jane understood.

"Oh." His hand went to the chain around his neck automatically, feeling the small circle there.

"You have to take it off," said Lisbon. "Someone might see it."

"I'll just hide it under my shirt," he said, tucking it out of sight. "Nobody will even know it's there." He hoped she would leave it at that.

"We can't risk someone seeing it. It'll undermine the whole operation. Take it off."

Jane didn't know what to do. Taking his ring off completely was a gesture of such finality that he wasn't sure if he could physically do it. But he could also see the sense in Lisbon's words. He couldn't guarantee that he could come up with a plausible cover story if someone saw it.

"You can put in the glove compartment," said Lisbon, coaxingly, sensing his hesitation. "It'll just be for a couple of hours. And when we come out you can put it right back on again."

Without really registering what he was doing, he reached up and undid the clasp, just as Lisbon had done three days ago in the kitchen. The chain slid free from his neck and he held it out to her. She took it from him carefully.

"Thank you."

He watched her as she leant over to stow it in the glove compartment, fighting the sudden mad desire to snatch it back off her.

"How long now?" she asked, turning back towards him again.

"Ten minutes."

"OK, let's do this."

They got out of the car, and almost mechanically, he offered her his arm. She slipped hers through it, and began to walk.

An hour later, they were both holding a glass of champagne seated on stools near the bar of Iridissia. Elegantly dressed people were mingling, sipping drinks that had probably cost a week's pay, out of glasses that had probably cost a month's.

They'd run into Hank after they reached the bar.

"Our plans for tonight fell through," Jane had lied. "And Rachel's been dying for a night out, haven't you honey?"

Lisbon had played her part well, shaking Hank's hand and thanking him most graciously for getting them in at the last minute. She was quite the actress, Jane thought. He'd noticed Hank's eyes lingering a little too long on the neckline of her dress and hurriedly asked Lisbon if she wouldn't mind ordering them some drinks.

The minute she'd turned away, Hank had let out a low whistle. "That's your wife?" he whispered. "Now I can see why you were in such a hurry to get home last night."

Jane shrugged noncommittally, but silently agreed with Hank wholeheartedly.

As he sat sipping his champagne, his thoughts floated to his wedding ring, safe in the glovebox of Nick's car. Part of him wanted to run back and get it, and part of him wanted to stay right here and see how long he could stick it out. He'd never even considered taking it off before this case so he'd never given a moment's thought to how it might feel.

Surprisingly, it wasn't as bad as it might have been. Sure, the physical symbol was gone but the removal hadn't done anything to get rid of the memories. He could still recall Angela's face as easily now as he could yesterday. He still remembered how many sugars she'd liked in her coffee (three) and her favourite colour (green.) He still lamented her death just as much.

But now the ring was off, he could look across at Lisbon and think she was beautiful without feeling guilty about it as quickly. He could have five seconds to contemplate what exact shade of green her eyes were instead of one. It was like the lack of the physical reminder delayed the onset of the guilt for just a little longer.

It might take a long time (if ever) to feel no guilt at all, but now at least there could be hope. He might be able to get there someday.

He looked across at Lisbon again and saw that she was looking at him too. She smiled at him, and he returned it. He reached for her hand and she let him take it. He still thought of Angela but now he thought he eventually might be able to honour her memory, but feel love for Lisbon at the same time, instead of feeling like he had to choose.

Because in truth, he didn't want to lose either of them.

Lisbon wondered what Jane was thinking as he squeezed her hand. She knew he'd never tell her if she asked, but it didn't stop her from being curious. There were many things about him that she wondered about. She wondered what he did on the nights he went home instead of staying at the CBI. She wondered what he did for fun, if anything. She still wondered how good a lover he could be if he wanted to. Her feminine intuition had high expectations in that area.

She wondered if she'd ever find out.

The night wore on, and Jane was surprised to find that he was actually having fun. True to his predictions, within hours people were flocking towards himself and Lisbon, offering drinks, chatting about everything from politics to cars, inviting him for a hand of poker or two (and quickly regretting it.) So far, there'd been no alarm bells about the people he'd met but he was confident that it was only a matter of time.

The best thing of all was that he discovered just how much he could get away with under the pretext of 'cover.' When Lisbon came to stand next to him, he was allowed to put his arm around her waist, citing 'cover' as an excuse.

Brushing hair away from her face. Cover.

Kissing her cheek to thank her for bringing him another drink. Cover.

Quickly extricating her from Hank's clutches when he asked her to dance. Cover.

For the first time, he was permitted to show his affection for her with no fear of rejection, for at the end he could just say he'd been acting. And every time he felt guilty about it, he tried to push it away. For now, he wasn't Patrick Jane.

He was Will Hayne tonight.

Something strange had come over Jane, Lisbon thought. He seemed to be touching her at every opportunity.

Something strange had come over her too. Not only was she enjoying his attention, she was reciprocating.

She felt strangely free playing this character of Rachel Hayne. It was like she'd been given a free pass, a break from being straight-laced Teresa Lisbon. She didn't have to hate herself for what she feeling. For this one, limited time, she was allowed to act on it.

It was OK if she wanted to lean over his shoulder at the poker table and whisper something in his ear, just because she felt like it. And she could thread her arm through his and glare at other women giving him the eye with having to ask herself why.

She could get all this crazy lust and desire out of her system without hurting anyone, jeopardizing her career or her integrity.

Jane had just won yet another hand of poker against a guy named Jesse Hopkins who was rude, arrogant, and quite frankly, needed to be taken down a peg. So Jane had obliged by making him part with over two thousand dollars. Hopkins lumbered off, swearing under his breath while Jane made a show of counting his takings.

"Nice win."

Jane swivelled around in his seat to behold a heavyset man with a pig-like nose and coppery hair.

"Thanks."

"You're on a hot streak," said the man. "And not just at the cards." He inclined his head towards Lisbon who was chatting to a young blonde woman a few feet away.

"I'm a lucky man."

"Yes you are. But is it enough for you?"

"What exactly are you asking?"

The man took a swig of his drink. "I can tell from the way you play cards, and your taste in women that you like to live on the edge, my friend. I like that."

"And?"

"Y'know, the thrill of winning gets old after a while. What if I told you I knew another way for you to get your thrills?"

"I'm listening."

"I'm having a little get-together at my place tomorrow night. Maybe you should stop by. Here's the address."

Jane took the paper and slipped it in his pocket without reading it.

"By the way, I'm Bruce Fredrickson."

"Will Hayne."

"See you tomorrow night."

As suddenly as he'd appeared, he left.

Jane pulled Lisbon away from her companion.

"We're in."

"Fantastic. Let's get out of here."

Nick met them back at the car, as Jane retrieved his ring and put it in his pocket.

"Good work guys," he said. "Tomorrow night, we can get into phase two. We're going to get this done!"

"Thanks Nick," said Lisbon, smiling at him.

"Do you want a ride back to your place?"

As soon as they got back to the house, this little fantasy evening would be over. They'd have to go back to being Patrick and Teresa and have all the emotional baggage that came with it. Jane for one, was keen to spin it out for just a little longer.

"Actually," he said. "I think I'll walk." He looked to Lisbon. "How about you?"

"You read my mind," she said.

It wasn't far to walk back to the house, but they made the most of every second. He kept his arm around her the whole way. They didn't talk much, because it was enough just to be together. Too soon for both of them, they were heading up the front walk.

"You were great tonight,' he told her, as the approached the front door. "I had no idea you were such a good actress."

"I played the lead in my high school play," she said mildly.

"Really?" he asked, surprised. He never would have guessed that in a million years.

"No," she laughed. "I can't believe you fell for that!"

For a moment, he was frozen, not quite believing she'd been able to pull one over him so easily. But her laughter was infectious, and soon enough he was joining in.

"Wow, Rachel you sure are nasty," he said.

"And Will, you sure are gullible," she countered.

He turned towards the door fumbling with the key.

For the life of her, Lisbon would never understand what made her do it. Maybe it was because she just didn't want this to be over. As he opened the door and faced her again, she pulled him to her and kissed him.

Somehow he managed to stumble backwards through the doorway with her legs around his waist and her lips on his. They got all of two steps into the house before he gently prised her off of him, but only so he could push her up against the wall and attack her neck, shoulder blade, and collarbone with his lips while she moaned with pleasure. His hand crept up her thigh under the hem of her dress, while hers were clutching at the front of his jacket.

He let her help him dispense of it, and it hit the floor in a heap. She unbuttoned his shirt, pulling one of them loose in her haste (that was two shirts she'd cost him now.) His hand roamed higher and higher under her dress, fast approaching the point of no return.

"Bedroom?" he panted, in between hot kisses, now fumbling for the zipper at the back of her dress.

"Uh-huh."

Getting up the stairs was a slow process, as they could scarcely go one step without feeling the need to ravish each other some more. His shirt was gone by the fifth stair, her dress by the eighth, and his belt buckle by the twelfth. Once they finally reached the top, he looked at the few feet separating them from the bedroom. Too far. He scooped her up bridal-style and carried her the last few steps.

He put her down gently on the bed, joined her a moment later and before he knew it she was on top of him again while he fought with the irritatingly stubborn clasp of her bra. It took a while, but he won in the end. No piece of fabric and metal was going to stop this now.

He was a little hesitant at first; it had been a long time after all, but he got over that fast. And Lisbon had her answer.

Was he a good lover?

Yes.

He was passionate and tender, and she'd been right. He really was a fast learner.

Lisbon woke up on the fifth morning of their stay in the same bed as usual. But today she wasn't alone.

There was an arm around her torso, and a leg around her waist. She didn't have to look to know whose. She should have known better, but last night she'd let her emotions run away with her. She'd had the perfect situation, and now she'd blown it.

Because she just hadn't been able to help herself.

And now, she was in big, big trouble.

Did I go too far with the undercover thing? I think I went out on a limb with this one. I thought it was the only way to be able to get them together after what happened at the end of the last chapter without contradicting myself. But you guys will have to be the judge of that.

P.S As far as I know Iridissia is not a real place. It's just a name I came up with off the top of my head. If by some chance, there is such a place, this is me hereby saying that I don't own it.