A/N: This chapter sort of ran away with me, and became much longer than usual; hope you don't mind ;). Waterbaby and I were very pleased at the reception of the near-kiss in the last chapter, along with all your wonderful reviews, favorites, and alerts. Thanks so much!

Chapter 4

ADX Death Valley was a supermax women's Federal Detention Center, built in the likeness of its masculine counterpart in Florence, Colorado. Jane was duly impressed (an experienced jailbird himself) at its imposing high razor wire topped fences and even higher walls as he stopped at the guardhouse and handed over his two forms of ID. While those were being carefully scrutinized, another heavily armed guard set his leashed German shepherd to sniffing around his Citroen. The guardhouse men perused his CBI card as well as his driver's license, cross-referenced them with computer records, gave him the eye at least twice, and returned them with a still-suspicious nod, waving him through the sliding electric fence. The entire process took a grand total of eight minutes, twenty-five seconds.

Jane parked in the nearly empty lot of the huge prison. He had heard that Lorelei Martins was its first and only prisoner. A familiar woman exited the main building and walked across the parking lot to meet him. He opened his car door, and the desert heat of Death Valley greeted him, nearly taking away his breath. He got out, feeling the sweat immediately gather at his brow as he smiled in greeting, opting to leave his suit coat in the car.

"Susan," he said, genuinely surprised to see her. "Nice to see a friendly face after that Mossad-like greeting at the gate."

Agent Darcy smirked slightly, shaking his hand. "Yeah, well, it's not called supermax for nothing." They began walking back toward the entrance, and once inside, Jane had to show his ID yet again to the control desk guard before going through a metal detector.

The nearly empty building was eerily quiet. "We were lucky to get this place," Darcy continued, once they'd both passed through security. "It's set to open in two weeks, so we have it all to ourselves until then. If we didn't have her on federal kidnapping charges, she'd be awaiting trial in a minimum security pen in Nevada. Given her association with a known serial killer, the Bureau thought it was an ideal location to protect Miss Martins, considering the fate of Red John's other cohorts that have been captured."

Jane nodded as they stopped before an elevator. "Good thinking; I had the same concern. Oh, and let me formally thank you for getting me out of those charges in Vegas."

"It wasn't easy," she said, entering the elevator and pressing the button for Sub-Floor Two. "But the Nevada AG decided to extend you a professional courtesy, given your association with the CBI. The cop whose face you punched had a real problem with your untimely exit, however."

Jane shrugged sheepishly. "I'll send him a fruit basket."

She almost laughed.

"I'm surprised to see you here, Susan. I figured, after the unfortunate incident with Wainwright, you'd want to step away from the Red John case for awhile." He was actually being disingenuous; he knew she wasn't the kind to give up.

"Are you kidding? I want that bastard now more than ever. And since I'm banned from the field until the investigation into Luther's death is concluded, I requested my desk confinement be here instead of the office in Sacramento."

"How resourceful of you," he said, in true admiration. She could have decided to be very angry with him, after all his lies and deceptions, could have even blamed him for the accidental shooting of Luther Wainwright. Now that she knew first-hand what Red John was capable of, she seemed to have come around to his way of thinking. Very Lisbon-esque of her.

The elevator slid open and they walked down sterile white corridors that smelled of fresh paint and oiled metal. Along the walls were doors that resembled large submarine hatches that would secure future inmates to solitary confinement twenty-three hours a day. Jane knew it would be a punishing existence, but for those who were too volatile and unmanageable for lesser prisons, and for those who were in danger from other inmates, or forces outside the razor wire, this was an ideal situation. Besides, it was no less than people like murderers, terrorists, serial killers, and Lorelei deserved.

Darcy stopped at an interrogation room where Jane could see through the one-way window that Lorelei was already waiting for him, handcuffed to the table before her, her small ankles encased tightly in manacles. He felt a sickening pang in his gut at the sight of her, but his determination to tear her apart psychologically outweighed his sudden attack of nerves.

"She still refusing a lawyer?" he asked.

"Yes, which makes our task somewhat easier, I suppose. You know, Patrick, I was disappointed that the CBI forgot to record your interviews with her when she was in Sacramento." She shot him a look of mild exasperation.

"Oops," said Jane unapologetically.

He'd seen to it that Lisbon's taped interrogation had mysteriously disappeared, and when he had spoken to Lorelei last, he'd merely neglected to press the record button. He really was glad Darcy didn't have access to the personal stuff they'd discussed, not to mention the additional embarrassment of his last failed interview.

"You didn't miss much," he hastened to reassure her. "She's been well indoctrinated by Red John. I've had some experience deprogramming so-called brainwash victims, but she's an entirely different case. I see some evidence that she might have been hypnotized, but her devotion to Red John seems completely voluntary. You don't get that wild-eyed craziness that I've seen in his other disciples."

"Hmm. I've seen what you mean. In my interviews with her, she struck me as highly intelligent, though not highly educated. Nothing in her background indicates that she has been a danger to anyone in the past. She was kicked out by her parents at age seventeen after she got pregnant. Medical records state she lost the child, but she never returned to her family home in LA. Since then, she's travelled all over California and Nevada like a gypsy, mainly holding down waitress jobs, except for a brief stint as a showgirl in Vegas."

Jane nodded. Van Pelt had done a similar background check for him, and the file was in the backseat of his Citroen, despite the fact he'd committed it to memory.

"Let me guess—she's revealed nothing about her initial meeting with Red John."

"Nope. She'll pleasantly talk about a variety of benign topics, but except for the usual dogma about Red John's quest to enlighten the world, she's a locked box. I've already had some of the FBI's best interrogators on her without success. You really think you can open her up?"

"Yes," he said confidently. "But it will take some time to chip away at her defences, to find a way to make her trust that I only have her best interests at heart. That's why I'm here for two weeks."

"Lisbon didn't come with you? I'm surprised. I thought you two were joined at the brain. Well, except for that six-month sabbatical you took."

"She's working on a case," he said noncommittally, ignoring that last jab.

In truth, he was torn about leaving Lisbon again so soon, but if he wanted to avoid a repeat of his last disastrous interrogation session, it was probably best she was safely back at CBI headquarters. But he found that she was all he could think about during the eight-hour drive, as he remembered in vivid detail how soft her cheek had felt beneath his lips, how lovely and dazed her green eyes had been before he'd gotten out of the car several nights before.

They'd barely spoken to each other since, and a strange awkwardness had settled between them, so that in some ways their newest separation was somewhat of a relief. He knew from their conversation in the diner that she'd forgiven him, but it seemed that with his slightly more than friendly kisses, they'd taken another step backward. She'd been skittish as a little fawn ever since, and he had been equally distant. He shook his head; they were quite a pair.

But he couldn't afford to focus on that particular frustration, not with the serious business at hand. Breaking Lorelei would require limited distractions, and it was terrifying just how distracting Teresa Lisbon had suddenly become.

Darcy nodded toward Lorelei. "You ready?"

Jane allowed himself a deep, cleansing breath before smiling disarmingly at Agent Darcy. "Ready or not...Oh, and Susan." He hesitated, something Jane rarely did. "I might say some things in there that could be stretching the truth a bit. Just to get a rise out of our prisoner, you understand."

"No need to explain, Patrick," she said dryly. "I've got my grains of salt all ready."

"Thanks," he said, and his grin returned.

Darcy instructed one of the two guards to open the door to the small room where Lorelei waited impatiently in her prison issue, khaki jumpsuit, one of her small, slip-on sneakers tapping on the tile floor. Her smile upon seeing Jane was big as Texas and no doubt as genuine. Her eyes sparkled as if meeting a long-lost friend.

"Patrick! You haven't forgotten about me after all."

"Lorelei. You look lovely as ever," Jane said pleasantly. "Settling in?" He took a seat in the chair across from her.

"It's not the MGM Grand, but it has all the necessities and three squares a day. I've stayed in much worse, believe me. It's actually been nice to be alone with my thoughts, sort of like a mini vacation."

"Well," said Jane. "Glad we could oblige. You know, I have been thinking about you quite a lot lately. I think there are a few things you should know about Red John that perhaps you don't already."

Lorelei sat back in her chair, one sceptical eyebrow rising at his words. "That's the tack you're taking, eh? I'm disappointed in you, Patrick. Red John has told me everything about himself. We're very close, he and I. Nothing you could possibly say would shock me or make me love him any less."

"Humor me, will you?"

She shrugged. "Sure. What else do I have to do?"

"Thank you. Tell me, do you know how many known victims Red John been either directly or indirectly responsible for? How many he has butchered like they were animals, or shot, or poisoned, or had burned alive? Do you know?"

"No," she said softly, but her eyes had grown suddenly cold.

"Thirty-three; many of them innocent young women like yourself."

"They deserved it, I'm sure. Justice can be harsh sometimes."

"How about young children?" he ventured. "Do they deserve to be carved up and left to bleed to death?"

"You're speaking of your child, Patrick. I know all about it. It was truly a shame you had to go and slander Red John. You brought on her death yourself, you know."

"You really believe that? Children should be sacrificed for the sake of Red John's ego?"

She remained stubbornly silent, so he went on. "What if it had been your child?"

Her stare was no longer so blank. "What?"

"You had a child too, didn't you? A girl, like my Charlotte? You named her Hailey. She died in your arms two days after she was born. You think she died because of your mistakes?"

"Yes," she said, her eyes watering. "I mean, I should have taken better care of myself while I was pregnant. Sort of hard though when you're living on the streets..."

"You wish your daddy had been there to take care of you along with your unborn child? What about Hailey's father? Where was he?"

"My father was a judgemental old fool who deserved the heart attack he died of five years ago," she said angrily. "As for the father of my child—he knocked me up after a one-night stand. He didn't deserve to be involved in her life, or in mine."

"But Red John's been like the father you always wanted, hasn't he? Taken care of you, seen to your every need, right? In return, you allow him to control your every thought, your every action. He even prostitutes you out from time to time, doesn't he? Is that a fair trade? Is that the behavior of a loving father figure?"

She refused to answer, and he allowed his questions to hang in the air for a few moments, until he could almost hear her calculating mind working, could see her eyes taking on a confident glow.

"Nicely done, Patrick, bringing up my daddy issues. You have some of those yourself, don't you? From what I hear, your father made you rip off old ladies and invalids in your carnie days, didn't he? He made you the fine man you are today." Her comment was liberally laced with sarcasm.

He briefly gritted his teeth, but then he smiled, leaning forward upon the table that separated them.

"We've already established that I've made mistakes. But none of what either of us has done justifies the deaths of our children, does it?"

When she didn't respond, he knew he'd made his point. But Lorelei wasn't one to simply give up; she was too well-trained by her master to do that.

"Tell me, how did Agent Lisbon enjoy our last little talk?"

And here we go again, he thought, but he was better prepared this time. And Lisbon wasn't looking over his shoulder now, distracting him.

"She was pretty disappointed, actually. You didn't give her any new information to help us capture your benefactor." He was being purposefully obtuse, and he actually got an eye roll out of her.

"I was actually meaning the revelation that you'd been saving yourself for me," she clarified.

"Funny you should mention revelations. I had one myself the other day."

"Oh?" she said, amused. "Do tell."

"It would seem your attempts to discredit me in front of her have had the exact opposite effect. I've discovered that absence has made my heart grow fonder-fonder in fact than I had even imagined possible, but not for you, I'm afraid. I'm in love with Teresa Lisbon, you see, and I guess I have you to thank for it."

She laughed in disbelief. "No way. That's priceless, really." She shook her head in wonder. "And does the lovely Miss Lisbon feel the same?"

"Yes, I believe so. After I kissed her the other day, it seemed pretty apparent. You'll have to ask her though, when next you meet."

Which will be the day after never, if I have anything to say about it.

"Huh. I'm happy for you, really, Patrick. Red John and I both agree it is long past time you found someone new and stopped pining for your dead wife. I do find it hard to believe that Teresa is going to forgive our little indiscretion so quickly, though. She seems to be a woman who values her own self-worth too much to fall for an emotionally crippled, vengeful narcissist like you."

Despite the truth in her hurtful words, Jane grinned. She was good at this. "Your jealousy is showing."

"I've no reason to be jealous, lover. I've had the best, and believe me, it wasn't you."

"And where is he now, this paragon of the bedroom? Why hasn't he rescued you yet? Or, more in keeping with tradition, why aren't you dead?"

"You did manage to isolate me in the country's newest supermax prison," she suggested. "A rescue mission will take some planning, even for him. That should explain why I'm still alive. Obviously, he loves me."

"Or, maybe he just doesn't care. Maybe he's not worried that you are close enough to him to think twice about, that he hasn't shared anything of actual importance with you that we can extract. He allowed you to be captured, didn't he? Or, alternatively, with this tight security, you owe us your life because we're in effect, protecting you."

"Or," she added caustically, "maybe he's kept me alive because he knows I can mess with your mind just as easily as he's always done with you. From our last conversation, Patrick, you know I'm right."

Jane put on a look of pity. "Why don't we test my theory first? We'll let security go lax. Give him every opportunity to save you. Or...kill you."

"You're bluffing. The Feds wouldn't let me go, and they believe they're protecting me just like you said."

"Are they? If we loosened security, say, accidentally left the front door open, it would be like putting out the welcome mat for him. Hopefully, we'd be fast enough to catch him before he smeared poison on your arm like he did Rebecca, or set you on fire, like he did Todd Johnson. Or maybe he'll simply cut you up like he did Jared Renfrew. Anyone of Red John's followers who has ever been captured, or has information that could lead us to him, has been killed in a horrible way. I fear for your life, Lorelei, I really do."

"Nice to know you care," she said, but the good humor had gone from her eyes, and he detected an involuntary spark of fear there as he'd detailed the possibilities. It took her a moment to collect herself, and when she did, she let out a loud, pretend yawn. She covered her mouth.

"Oh, pardon me. Much as I'd like to continue this conversation, it's about time for my afternoon nap. You mind?"

Jane met the eyes of one of the guards. "No problem at all. I'll be back tomorrow."

Her eyes widened, but not with pleasure.

"Yeah, I've got two weeks to spend with Red John's favorite girl," he said happily. He reached out to touch her hand, pleased to note it was ice cold, and he was pretty sure it wasn't because of the air conditioning.

"In the meantime, watch your back..." He winked at her conspiratorially.

Both guards entered then, escorting her out of the interrogation room and down the hallway. He could hear the echo of her rattling chains for some time. Jane let out a satisfied sigh, pleased that he'd been the one to get to her this time. The first step in deprogramming her would be to begin to tear down her image of Red John, make her see that she meant nothing to him. He would help her to understand why she had been devoted to such a monster, and slowly begin to extricate him from his role as savior. Next, he must make her so paranoid she would turn to him for help, thus gaining his trust by singing like a proverbial bird. He felt confident that he'd laid the groundwork for his multi-pronged attack.

He turned to look at the black window behind him.

"Well?" he asked.

"Bravo," said Lisbon, stepping into the room with him. "Score one for our side."

"Lisbon," he said, numbly rising to his feet. "How-?"

She smiled, taking great pleasure in watching his cheeks flush a little in embarrassment, somewhat for being taken off guard, but mostly for his latest confession to Lorelei that she had obviously witnessed.

"I thought you were working a case," he said. Darcy joined them, her own Cheshire cat grin spreading across her face. He shot her a look of annoyance at her deception.

"How does it feel to be denied important information?" Darcy asked triumphantly. Jane ignored her.

"Cho's got it." Lisbon replied to his supposition. "I decided helping you with Lorelei was more important, don't you agree?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure. How long are you staying?"

"Two weeks, or until you break her—whichever comes first."

"I appreciate your confidence."

"Well, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone," said Darcy dryly. "I've got a few calls to make. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," said Lisbon and Jane in unison, which only made Darcy's smile widen in amusement.

"Thanks, Susan," said Lisbon.

"You're welcome—both of you. I assume you can find your way out. Good night."

"Night."

They watched her leave, the familiar awkwardness returning. Finally, he met her eyes, despite the rather large elephant in the room.

"Why the ruse?" He asked, suddenly feeling a little miffed with her. "We could have ridden together."

He held the interrogation room door open for her and she walked out, then waited as he caught up and they made their way down the unnaturally quiet corridor side by side, their shoes clopping loudly on the industrial tile floor.

"Things have been...strange between us since you got back. And then, the other night...Frankly, the idea of an eight-hour trip alone with you seemed, well...daunting."

So, she couldn't even bear to spend time in a car with him? Jane added hurt to his list of swirling emotions

"And...?" he prompted as they stood before the elevator, because he knew that wasn't the only reason she'd kept her travel plans secret.

"And I knew you really didn't want me to be here," she finished in a rush, just as the elevator dinged its arrival and the door slid open.

It was true, but he had to ask: "Why would you say that?"

The elevator started rising, and he turned to look at her. She looked lovely today, in a sage green Henley beneath a lightweight gray blazer jacket and matching slacks. Her gold crucifix glinted in the dim light, and his eyes were briefly drawn there, where her blouse was open to the fourth button, leaving an enticing V. He met her eyes, reflecting the green of her top beneath straight, dark bangs.

"Because you didn't like me hearing the intimate details of your relationship with that—"slut? Whore? Bitch?-"woman," she finished tightly.

"There was no relationship. I was using her."

She laughed without humor. "Well that makes it okay, then."

He sighed. "Please, Teresa, can we just stop talking about that? It's true; I didn't want you here, mainly because I find that now the whole topic rather uncomfortable for me. I did what I thought I had to do to gain her and Red John's trust. Would I do it again? I don't know. Depends on what I can extract from her. Hell, I'd sleep with Red John if it meant the chance to—"

"Please, just don't finish that thought," she said, holding up her hands in surrender, but this time there was real amusement in her expression; he could tell by the dimple. He smiled in return. Impulsively, he reached for her hands, lacing his fingers briefly through them until their palms touched. He felt her pulse jump, then race beneath her delicate wrist. He wondered if she could feel his doing the same.

"You hungry?" he asked, riding on the coattails of her returned good humor. Besides, he hadn't eaten since he'd driven through a fast-food joint at noon, and it was well past six o'clock. He dropped her hands reluctantly when the elevator came to a stop.

"Yes, actually. I skipped lunch so I was sure to beat you here."

He shook his head ruefully at her sacrifice to carry out her plan.

"It seems that lately we can relate better over a meal," he commented as they walked out into the heat, still over a hundred degrees even this late in the evening.

She nodded. "Susan said the restaurant at our motel is pretty good. I'll meet you there. My car is parked in the employee garage," she told him, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the nearby building.

"Wait—our motel?"

"Yeah. Van Pelt told me where you booked your room..." If he asked about her flushed face, she would blame it on the heat.

"Well, I guess I'll see you there, then," he told her with a small smile, then walked toward his car, already dreading getting inside its oven like interior.

"See ya," Lisbon murmured in satisfaction. It felt very rewarding to have pulled one over on the great Patrick Jane.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She hadn't asked him about what he'd said to Lorelei during his interrogation that day, but he knew she was thinking about it. Hell, he could think of little else while they chatted about the case she'd left in the rest of the team's capable hands. He was still thinking about it when their cheeseburgers had arrived in the booth of the nondescript restaurant adjacent to their nondescript motel. He was still thinking about it when he'd walked her to her door later, just two down from his.

He'd been tempted to kiss her cheek again, or maybe even take the chance and find her mouth with his. Instead, he'd settled on a final caution about the pervasive scorpions in the area, and she'd quipped that she'd always hated that band anyway. It was a lame joke to deflect what they were both really feeling, what they really wanted to be talking about instead.

She'd heard him say that he loved her, that he suspected she loved him too. He longed to tell her that he'd meant it, that it wasn't just a way to get Lorelei off the subject for good. He supposed he could simply come right out and say it, confess all and wait, trembling, while she decided whether to believe him or not. But he didn't know how he'd be able to handle rejection from her, and so he'd said nothing and left her with visions of wayward scorpions slipping under her door while she slept.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

At two a.m., Lisbon awoke, drenched in a sweat. It took her a few disoriented moments to realize that she was hot because the window unit air conditioner was no longer working. She wiped at her brow and got up, fiddled with the controls for a few minutes, before grabbing the bedside phone and calling the front desk.

"Sorry, ma'am. Our heat and air guy doesn't come in until eight in the morning. Is your ceiling fan working?"

"Sure," she said in annoyance. "But it hardly makes a difference when it's ninety-five degrees outside."

"I'd move you to another room, but we're totally booked. You're welcome to cool off in the lounge or maybe you could ask that friend you came with—Mr. Jane was it?—if you could share his room. Other than that, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do tonight. I'll give you a refund for the night and try to relocate you tomorrow if it can't be fixed. Again, my apologies."

She sighed. "Thanks, anyway. I guess these things happen."

Resigned to her fate, she changed from her sweaty football jersey nightshirt to a tank top and shorts, slipped on her flip-flop sandals, grabbed her room key and walked outside to find Jane's room. He was probably awake anyway, and when she saw the light on beneath the door, she knocked softly. When he didn't come to open it, she knocked harder, and called for him, hoping she wouldn't disturb the other guests. She was about to give up when she heard a splash in the swimming pool across from their rooms.

She'd noticed earlier that the pool closed at eleven, and all the lights were off around it save a lone security lamp nearby. Naturally suspicious, especially when someone was blatantly violating a rule, she wandered over to the gate and saw that the pool's occupant was busy swimming laps. The swimmer was methodical, doing the breaststroke with perfect form, the water sluicing over his pale, lithe muscles as he reached one end, then somersaulted beneath the surface to emerge again, halfway to the other side. There was something familiar about him, but it wasn't until she witnessed a tenth lap that she realized she had been ogling Patrick Jane.

Naturally, that was the very moment he chose to end his exercise, stopping at the edge of the shallow end, smoothing back the slick hair that had fallen in his eyes. Of course, his gaze went immediately to the figure standing at the gate, and he grinned when he saw that it was none other than the lady of his thoughts.

"Hey, Lisbon," he called. "You should join me—the water's great!"

She was grateful the dim light hid her embarrassment. "I don't have a bathing suit," she replied.

"Me neither," he said, and he laughed at her expression. "I'm not skinny dipping; I'm wearing shorts. Just come in as you are; you won't be sorry."

She was still incredibly hot, and despite the fact that the sun had been down for hours, it still felt like she was slowly roasting out there.

She tapped the sign on the gate meaningfully. "In case you can't read, the pool's supposed to be closed."

"What can I say, Lisbon? I'm a man who likes to live on the edge."

He was making fun of her inherent, by-the-book mentality. She frowned in annoyance as well as burgeoning temptation.

"Come on, Lisbon; live a little. I dare you. I double-dog dare you."

Well, that did it. She opened the gate, flinching and looking around nervously as it squeaked in protest. His soft chuckle irritated her to no end. She kicked off her sandals, carefully setting her room key on the patio table, and, before she could change her mind, dove cleanly into the deep end of the pool. The water was cool and refreshing, and she broke the surface at the shallow end with a sound of pure contentment.

"What did I tell ya?" Jane asked, and he was much closer to her than she'd realized.

She pushed back her hair and looked at him. She'd only seen him shirtless on one other occasion—that time when he'd nearly drowned and the paramedics had needed to work on his bare chest. She had been so frightened of losing him that day, the pain of that moment just as sharp as when he'd stepped into that CBI elevator six months ago. Seeing him now, standing in the shallow water of their motel swimming pool, half-naked and smiling, made her heart squeeze in gratitude that he was here with her, safe and sound, hers alone once more.

She saw his eyes lower to her breasts, clearly visible now through her wet, white tank top, and felt stunned by the impact of her desire. She felt the water lapping sensuously against her torso as she moved even closer to him, but he just stood there, frozen in place, trying to read her intentions in the near-darkness.

"Lisbon?" he whispered uncertainly, his breath catching in his throat.

She walked the last few steps until she was standing right in front of him. She reached out with both hands, watching in fascination as she slid them up his lightly muscled arms and then over to his chest, smooth and wet and pleasantly defined. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her hand and she looked boldly up into his unfathomable eyes.

She couldn't believe she was doing this, touching him as she had in countless dreams—let alone that he was letting her. Her hands found their way to his neck, warm despite the coolness of the water. Wet, Jane's hair was silky and straight, slippery beneath her fingers. His eyes were closed now, his breathing unsteady, as he patiently waited for what she might do next.

Lisbon's own eyelids drooped closed, and she found herself going up on tiptoe to press her seeking lips to his experimentally. When he didn't move to return her tentative kiss, she pulled back slightly to gauge his reaction. If he hadn't been fairly panting by now, she would have swum away in mortification. But his hands now rested on her tiny waist, and his eyes glittered down at her with desire...and encouragement.

It occurred to Lisbon that he was letting her set the pace, likely fearful that he'd frighten her away if he let himself do what his body was telling him to do. She knew the feeling well, but she chose to be brave enough for the both of them, and found his full lips again. This time, she wrapped her arms about his neck, using her buoyancy in the water to bring her body closer to his, pleased when he moaned against her mouth and pulled her tightly against him. His lips parted, and she didn't hesitate to slide her tongue inside, the feel of the hot interior of his mouth a delicious contradiction to the cool water around them.

She felt him walking backward toward the end of the pool, carrying her with him, and when he found the tiled edge, he set her out of the water and onto her bottom, her legs parting, her feet dangling in the water. His hands roamed her body, until he slipped them beneath her shirt to caress her finely toned back. His kisses became wilder then, more passionate, and she felt like she was becoming drunk with them.

Her own hands moved between their bodies, and he trembled when they explored his flat stomach, fairly shook when they hovered around the waistband of his navy blue shorts.

"Lisbon," he breathed, tearing his mouth away and bringing his hands down to cover hers. His dropped his forehead against hers, their ragged breathing making them both lightheaded.

"What are we doing?" he whispered harshly.

"Well," she said with a tremulous laugh, "if you have to ask..."

A/N: There is actually no women's supermax prison in the US, but there is a men's in Colorado, like I mentioned. I figured that if they had to keep Lorelei from getting killed while they got information from her, they had to find someplace virtually impenetrable, and so I had to invent one. I also did some research on deprogramming brainwash victims, and while there is some controversy over whether someone can truly be brainwashed, there are plenty of agencies out there that work to help people who have been in cults. I hope Jane's approach here rings true, because while I doubt he really wants to help her, he realizes that in order to get what he wants from her, he has to get her to let go of Red John's power over her.

Anyway, thanks for reading this. I hope you enjoyed it enough to review. I've left it hanging so waterbaby can have a juicy part to play off of. I'm sure she'll do an excellent job. Please stay tuned...

P.S. If you loved waterbaby134's great fic, "It Takes a Village," please vote for her in the CastleTv dot net awards! She is certainly well-deserving!