A/N: So sorry there were apparently problems with this site when I posted chapter 2 on Sunday, so if you haven't read that chapter yet, please take the time to go back and do so. This chapter hopefully moves the plot along a bit. I hope it's not too dry for you. Oh, and special thanks to BFangz, for his wonderful technical advice.

Chapter 3

Lisbon sat in her car in the parking lot of CBI Headquarters for a full ten minutes before going in to face LaRoche. At first it was to get hold of herself after the painful confrontation with Jane, but then it was to muster up the courage to go in there and try to defend him to their boss. She didn't know how she was going to do that. She was so hurt and angry that part of her wanted him to be punished for keeping things from her, and it was even tempting on some level to ask LaRoche if he knew what else Jane might have hidden, so she'd have the pleasure of punishing Jane in her own way.

Lisbon took a deep, cleansing breath, let it out, then resolutely got out of the car and walked into the building. It was strange to see the place so vacant on a weekday, and as she got out of the elevator on the floor housing the Serious Crimes Unit, she felt her heart pick up speed, unaccountably nervous. She paused outside Hightower's old office, a wave of longing nearly overcoming her. She still missed her old boss, still felt that somehow what had happened with her had to have all been a mistake. How could she have so completely misjudged a person? Hightower had been so much more tolerant of Jane's antics, and Lisbon would have been able to convince her that he hadn't meant any harm in owning a gun. But it wasn't Hightower in there anymore, and she had to face the harsh reality that was LaRoche.

She tapped on the closed glass door, and the big man motioned her inside with his stubby fingers.

"Agent Lisbon," he greeted. "Please, sit down."

She did so, and noticed immediately the wooden box on his desk.

"Is that it?" she asked. He nodded. "May I see it?"

He opened the hinged lid and slid the box over to her. It was a Colt .45 in a presentation case, very expensive.

"Oh," she said nonchalantly. "This must be the gun he got from Max Winter."

LaRoche's eyebrows rose. "You knew he had this?"

"Yes sir," she lied. "I didn't realize he'd kept it here. It was a gift after he'd helped solve a case a few months ago. I should have reminded him to take it home."

He eyed her as she sat there, guilelessly looking back at him. She could almost see the neurons in his brain firing as he pondered the truth of her words. "You know that all weapons on CBI property need to be registered and accounted for, correct?"

"Yes sir. I'll be sure to have him take care of that." She reached over to pick up the box, when LaRoche snapped it shut, just missing her fingers. His hands rested possessively atop it.

"Thank you, Agent, but I'd like to talk to him myself, if you don't mind."

"Uh…no sir. Of course." She stood, wanting—needing—to get out of there as fast as she could. "Is there anything else, sir?"

"No Agent Lisbon. Enjoy the rest of your time off. I'll see you back here Monday."

"Yes sir. Thank you sir." She turned back toward the door, but just as her hand rested on the knob, his soft voice reached her ears again.

"One more thing."

She stopped, her heart pounding wildly because she'd almost made her escape. She looked over her shoulder. "Yes, sir?"

"Did you talk to Jane about this?"

"Absolutely not," she replied, without hesitation. "You ordered me not to."

He nodded once, but still looked suspicious. "Very good. Good afternoon, then."

"Good afternoon, sir."

Lisbon left his office as casually as she could, suppressing the need to run as fast as she could to the elevator. She'd done it now; lied to LaRoche for Jane. Put her job in jeopardy yet again. For Jane. She made a decision right then that she would demand the truth from him, give him an ultimatum if she had to. He could keep his secrets, or he could keep her. She hated to have to do that to him, to them, but if she was going to risk her job and his life, the least he could do was tell her what was worth risking everything for.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Mr. Jane. This is J.J. LaRoche. I realize this is your vacation, but it is imperative that I speak with you in person. Please come in to HQ as soon as possible. Thank you."

The message ended, and Jane pocketed his phone. He stood in the empty parking garage beneath the CBI Headquarters, waiting for the pit-bull to leave for lunch. An obvious idea struck him, and he pulled out his phone again.

"LaRoche," answered the man after the first ring.

"Yes, J.J., Patrick Jane here." It amused Jane to call him by his incongruous first initials. "I got your message, but I was just about to go out to lunch. Since it's about noon, you're due for a break, aren't you? Could we meet somewhere, two lonely bachelors who have no one at home to pack our lunches with chicken salad?"

Jane could almost see the slightly ironic smirk on the man's thin lips. Given the topic of conversation, Jane wondered at first if he'd be refused, but he'd guessed correctly; LaRoche was intrigued by the suggestion. "Sure…where do you have in mind?"

Jane mentioned a restaurant overlooking the river, a place that would take at least thirty minutes to get to in lunch hour traffic. That should be more than enough time…

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Earlier, Jane had parked his car two blocks away and walked in through the front gate of the property, nodding pleasantly to the lone guard, telling him he'd felt like walking today. He saw that Lisbon's car wasn't in the outside parking lot, so she must have left already. So now, inside the parking garage, it was just a matter of waiting for LaRoche to come down in the elevator and drive away in his late model boringmobile. Truly, the man had no imagination.

Jane stood up from his hiding place behind a company SUV. He knew where all the cameras were in the building, knew it was pointless to try to avoid them, so he simply walked casually off the elevator, then through the halls, pretending he was supposed to be there. He walked past Gale Betram's office, past the camera mounted unobtrusively in the alcove by his door. Out of camera range, Jane stood on the chair beneath it and reached up to pull on one of the wires as hard as he could. There was a slight give, and he was pleased to see the light atop the camera go dim. He took out a handkerchief and wiped off the places he'd touched on the camera and the wall beside it. With one last look around, he successfully picked the lock and went inside.

Jane walked past the secretary's empty desk, then picked the lock to Bertam's interior office door. Several more lock pickings of filing cabinet drawers, and Jane pulled out J.J. LaRoche's personal file. It was surprisingly thick. Jane glanced at the clock on the wall, then wiped up behind him and made his way out of the building, file stuffed inside his dress shirt. He walked swiftly back to his car. He had a lunch date to keep.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

LaRoche had obviously been waiting awhile at the restaurant, and Jane was very apologetic, using the ready excuse of traffic. He couldn't tell if the unit director believed him or even if he was annoyed; his face rarely changed expressions. Jane felt a little like he was flying blind with him. He shrugged internally. It just makes reading him more of a challenge. He gave his boss a blinding smile of greeting.

"Please, sit down, Mr. Jane. I already ordered for myself, I hope you don't mind."

The waitress arrived and Jane ordered a cup of tea and a club sandwich.

"So, what's this all about, J.J.?" A slight downturn of his mouth did show that he likely didn't care to be on a first name basis with him.

"We did some spring cleaning of the CBI offices," he began, getting right to the point.

"Oh? I look forward to a fresh, aired-out office on Monday. Nothing like clearing out the cobwebs," Jane commented cheerfully.

"Yes. Well. In the process of this cleaning, we found your gun in the attic."

"Gun? What-? Oh!" Jane put on a stricken look, as if he'd forgotten all about it. "You mean the gift from Max Winter? Yes. I wasn't aware that would be a problem. One never knows when one needs to defend oneself, does one? Lord knows, if I'd been closer to it, maybe I could have avoided being taken hostage by Hightower."

LaRoche was silent a moment, picking up his iced tea and taking a considering sip. Jane watched as he watched Jane, evaluating, processing. Sort of like a robot.

"Have you ever spoken to Agent Lisbon about this gift?"

"No. Should I have?"

LaRoche shook his head, and he almost smirked. Jane had the dreadful feeling that he'd failed some sort of test. "Of course not," LaRoche replied. "All of this was a misunderstanding, I see. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, however, but you are no longer allowed to occupy the attic. Your bedding and other personal items are stacked on your desk—downstairs. The attic is for storage purposes only. Security informs me that it isn't safe for you to be up there. There are a few loose boards that could be a safety hazard. We wouldn't want you falling through the floor, now, would we, Mr. Jane?"

Jane was furious, but he hid it well. "Couldn't you maybe…have them fixed?"

"Not in the budget, I'm afraid. Besides, you have a nice, comfortable couch in the main office for those all-nighters you seem to have so frequently, if your upstairs bed was any indication."

Jane fumed in silence, pouring a cup of tea from the little pot the waitress set beside him. LaRoche was trying his best to get to him, to piss him off. He wasn't going to give the man the satisfaction. He looked up from his tea with a plastered on grin.

"Yes, I suppose that would be best. Nice of you to be so concerned with my safety and comfort," Jane said dryly.

"You're an important member of my team, Mr. Jane. It's my job to look out for you."

Jane made a noncommittal noise just as the waitress arrived. She refilled LaRoche's iced tea, then set down two identical sandwiches. Jane smiled when he realized they'd ordered the same thing. Jane flirted a little with the waitress, who blushed and simpered at the attention of such a handsome man. It was all designed to show LaRoche that his passive aggressive taunts were having no effect. Jane was about to take a bite of his sandwich when LaRoche reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a familiar slip of paper. Jane felt his face go white before he could kick in one of his biofeedback tricks.

"I almost forgot. I believe this belongs to you." He slid the paper across the table. To give himself more time, Jane took a bite, chewing slowly. It was LaRoche's suspect list for the Todd Johnson murder, the list Minnelli had procured for him. Jane swallowed and looked into the other man's eyes, which, if you looked closely, almost appeared…triumphant.

"What's this?" Jane asked, picking up the list. It was a copy of LaRoche's actual memo to Gale Betram. His mind whirled, trying to figure out how LaRoche had gotten his hands on it. Obviously, he'd found it in the attic.

"It was slipped under your makeshift mattress in your makeshift office. From the look on your face, you forgot you'd left it there."

Shit. How could I have been so careless?

"Me? How do you know someone didn't plant it there? Someone who wants to implicate me in some foul deed."

"Like who, Mr. Jane?"

"Hightower," Jane replied with the most likely suspect. "Maybe that's why she kidnapped me. I interrupted her trying to set me up."

LaRoche finished chewing his own bite of sandwich. "That makes a very convincing story. It would certainly explain things. Unfortunately, the notes at the bottom of the memo are in your handwriting. Where did you get this, Jane? Only Bertram and I were privy to this list. How did you come by it?"

"Look," Jane began, dropping all pretenses, now that he'd been clearly caught. "I admit I had the list. What difference does it make now? Your killer has gotten away."

"I could bring you up on charges of interfering with a criminal investigation."

"How did I interfere?" asked Jane. "Except to get in the way of Hightower's very lethal weapon?" He grinned ironically.

LaRoche changed tactics. "Who gave you the list, Jane? There might be a mole in the CBI, and it could very likely be you."

Jane chuckled. "Someone slipped that list under my apartment door, and I have no idea who. And yes, I kept it. Do you really blame me? You were investigating my friends and me. We had a right to know that we were suspects."

LaRoche's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "You got an anonymous tip. Who would do that?"

Jane shrugged. "Don't ask me; you're the investigator." He took another bite of his sandwich, satisfied that his lies seemed nearly impossible to disprove. LaRoche had nothing but unsubstantiated suspicions now. The two men continued to eat in silence; they were at a grudging impasse. When Jane finished his last bite, he rose to his feet, reaching into his wallet to draw out a few bills. He tossed them on the table.

"Thanks for the enjoyable company," Jane said wryly. "We must do this again sometime."

LaRoche reached into the empty chair beside him, and picked up Jane's gun box. "I believe this belongs to you. Don't bring it back to the CBI unless you get it registered and put on file with the weapons clerk."

Jane took the box. "Of course. How silly of me." He gave another disarming grin, which also encompassed the waitress who had arrived with the check. "See you Monday, J.J."

"Yes you will…Patrick." And damned if the man actually smiled.

A/N: So, moving right along…yes, a lot happened in this chapter. To sum up: Jane still has to win Lisbon back, topple LaRoche, and reinstall Minnelli. Lisbon has her ultimatum ready. These problems and more will be addressed in future chapters. Thanks for hanging in there. Also, I used some poetic license by making up CBI gun rules and putting Bertam's office in the CBI Headquarters. I couldn't remember if it was there, or in some other building. Please correct me if I'm wrong about that, and I'll be happy to correct this chapter. I always try to be accurate. Okay, let those reviews fly…please?