I have such a bad conscience for doing that to you, but I have a certain way I want this story to go, and believe me- the angst will pay off! Chapter 3 is simply bitter, chapter 4 is bittersweet- and chapter 5 will earn this story it's rating ;D! So bear with me!

Thank you so much for all your support and your feedback- it's SO MUCH appreciated, believe me!

And now- on to the angst…

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist, and I don't make money from fan fiction.

Chapter 3

Jane sat in his hotel room and watched the darkness creep up in front of his window.

What the hell was the matter with him?

He was supposed to be the wonder boy with the golden tongue, the devil who could charm anyone, anytime, with a few well-chosen words.

So why did he lose all of his precious abilities when it came to Lisbon? He NEVER insulted anyone if he didn't WANT to, and still he had offended her without meaning to- twice. In one day.

He'd only been like this with one other person before.

His smile was sad and woebegone. Angela Ruskin. Damn, had he stumbled over his tongue on countless occasions when he'd been with her… she had slapped him about twenty times before she had stooped to kiss him.

One time, before they had really been a couple, he had told her: "I don't want all the beautiful girls- I want you!" Ouch. She had locked him into a stationary cupboard he had the bad luck standing right in front of at that very moment. He had peed his pants before she'd finally let him out of there.

He smiled at the memory, tears welling up in his eyes.

Maybe it was better if Lisbon thought that he didn't find her beautiful. Maybe it would protect her. It was a great idea to make her hate him.

If it only wouldn't hurt so much. He couldn't let her run around in skimpy bikinis, flirting with lecherous men just to get back at him. Damn, he was stupid. But he had no choice. Love made a babbling idiot out of him, which was why he had been so intent on avoiding it for the rest of his life. But his fierce little minx had come and taken his heart in the still of the night, and he was fighting a losing battle in trying to keep things friendly. There was nothing friendly about his dreams. The need to touch her. The way her closeness gave him peace, grounded him, made him feel honorable and worthy again. And, yes- it made him horny, too.

He got up slowly and walked to the window, looking down to the sparkling row of lights, the brightly dressed party-crowd moving along like faceless animals.

He should let her in peace, allow her to find a good, dependable man, to finally get happy after all the years he had drained her of her energy.

But he was selfish and scared, so he needed to watch her, follow her everywhere to make sure she was safe. He hated this holiday on unknown territory, hated that he wasn't back in his car in front of her apartment where he had slept those past weeks, arriving like a thief in the night, to watch out over her like a dark guardian angel. It was his need, he went crazy when he didn't know where she was, who was with her, if she was really, really safe.

Although she'd never be safe as long as she was with him. He had brought this upon her, had lured Red John out of hiding, had made the killer more dangerous than he'd already been. The fun was over, and all he could do was holding his hand over Lisbon as good as he could.

He got antsy, his need to see her right now as insurmountable as a fatal disease. He couldn't let her go.

And he sure as hell couldn't let her believe that he didn't find her beautiful.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Turquoise? Seriously?

Lisbon sighed an exasperated sigh and continued to be decidedly… indecisive.

These weren't her colors, there was no doubt about it, and how stupid was the male population that it was totally oblivious to that? She was pretty much flashing "awkward" with every step she took. But it was unbelievable how many compliments she got, a great bunch of them by men much younger than she was.

She'd been shy at first. Then she had started smiling back.

But all the flirting didn't help the fact that she was terribly lonely.

Jane hadn't been sighted since they had the little fight after she had made the arrest. He'd been gone all the time, while the team had conducted the interviews and wrapped the PD an airtight package.

She had found herself standing in front of his hotel room more than once, but had never dared to knock.

Why wouldn't he fight for her? Oh, yes. He didn't want her, right. He possibly saw her as some kind of little sister… she grimaced involuntarily. If he knew what she was doing to him every night in her dreams, when it seemed safe to let her fantasies rule the game….

She groaned, angry at herself. Would she ever get over this? She guessed not, since she had never been in love like this before. How had he done it? Tenderness flared inside her like a flame, and she felt the tears well in her eyes. She loved him. Period. There was no denying it, no smoothing it over with less dangerous words, she couldn't even hide it from herself any longer.

She had almost died from jealousy while Lorelei Martins had been in his life. But truth was, she wasn't any closer to his heart now. Because he just didn't have any feelings for her.

"Whatcha drink?"

The bartender was a gray-haired, bearded trunk of a man, smiling benevolently at her. She hadn't even noticed that she had stepped up to the counter of a cozy-looking beach bar, lost in futile thoughts that would kill her one day.

But why not?

"Beer," she nodded, "preferably so cold it numbs my tongue… and everything else while it's at it."

He chuckled.

"Comin'."

A solid body brushed past her, and she felt two hands on her shoulders.

"Excuse me," a warm male voice drawled, and he lingered a bit longer than he should have.

Lisbon turned a little. Young, muscular, shaggy surfer hair. AND HE WAS TOUCHING HER. She almost slugged him, her forced smile obviously coming over as pretty hostile given the slightly scared face he made.

She almost sighed in relief when he took his hands from her skin.

Damn, how would she ever attract a man if she couldn't stand being touched?

Truth was simple and painful: she wouldn't.

She took a sip of her blissfully icy beer and felt so lonely it hurt like a hole in her chest.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Jane straightened when this obnoxious guy didn't take his hands from her shoulders immediately, but Lisbon took care of it herself and glared him away seconds later.

He behaved like an idiot, dammit. He WANTED her to find a nice guy, remember? But deep down, he did a poor job hiding the fact that it was the last thing he wanted.

Heavens, she was breathtaking. He wouldn't have been able to look away if he'd tried. Her body was slim and toned, she was lithe and graceful, every movement a soft, dancing slide now that she didn't need to adopt her usual cop-stance. He had never seen her in holiday-mode, and it did unbelievable things to his equilibrium. He didn't like it at all.

He had followed her all day, keeping his distance so he wouldn't alarm her, watching closely for anyone who could pose a threat to her. Secretly hating the guys who stared at her, wishing she would cover herself, hide what was so precious and beautiful to him it made his eyes water with longing.

He licked over his dry lips and ordered another tea with a short movement of his hand.

It was plainly visible that she was uncomfortable, playing a role that wasn't her, and Lisbon had always been a total failure at pretending. They were two lonely strangers in a world where everything was fake. Despite the outrageously flashy colors and the embarrassingly small amount of fabric she wore, she looked so innocent like this, as if she had shed her armor and stood before him pure and vulnerable, even smaller than she looked in her smart suits. Everything about her was tiny, and all he wanted was to pull her into his embrace and tell her that everything was alright, that he could see her, that there wasn't a reason to playact.

But she wasn't his. Red John was lurking, and he had no doubt he would enjoy killing his second wife as well. Show him there was nothing he couldn't, wouldn't take from him.

He straightened again. Lisbon was talking to a guy who seemed to be a little smarter than the other ones had been, at least she didn't push him away. White-hot jealousy pierced his heart like a flash of lightning, and he had to grit his teeth not to make a sound.

It took only a few minutes before the stranger touched her, putting his hand on her bare back, and while she still shrunk away a little, she didn't stop the travesty.

Jane almost screamed, his insides clotted with noise, his stomach knotting into an angry fist of fear and hate. He couldn't lose her. But she wasn't his, dammit! He followed them when they got up, his knees wobbling dangerously when he swiftly paid his bill.

He couldn't be losing her. He was a selfish bastard, but there was no way in hell how he could let her go.

His absolution. His angel. His one source of warmth in a world made of ice.

But the tenderness was undermined by a rage he had hardly ever felt before, coloring his vision bright red, turning him into a vicious, vengeful beast.

Xxxxxxxxxx

James was good-looking and extremely nice, and Lisbon felt torn between her wish to gently get rid of him and just give in, start anew, burn her charred emotional bridges once and for all.

But her feelings for Jane throbbed like a separate pulse deep inside her heart, and even now, she couldn't stop thinking about him, wondering where he was, if he was safe and content.

She smiled at James, who made polite, interesting conversation, and knew she couldn't do it. But something inside her guided her along as if she were on autopilot, an urge to survive, to prove to herself that she could still do it.

When he took her hand, she didn't object, although something inside her told her to run. And when he leaned over to press a soft kiss on her lips, she felt paralyzed with a mixture of shock and confusion.

"Lisbon!"

Jane's voice was a dangerous growl, but loud enough to pierce the lush evening's quiet with ease.

James backed off, casting a confused glance at her.

Jane's vibe was possessive and territorial, he eyed James like a piece of vermin, his glare so intense the taller, younger man shrunk in front of her eyes.

"Time to scram." Jane whispered menacingly, tilting his head in the general direction he thought James should vanish.

James' breathing accelerated.

"Weeeellll… I'll leave you two to… sort out your differences."

He was off so fast his steps echoed from the pavement in a rapid staccato.

"What in hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed.

"What do YOU think you're doing? Are you out of your mind? Picking up total strangers in a beach bar, dressed in… IN THAT?"

She couldn't help the notion that somehow, he was right. She felt cheap and stupid, the imprint of James' kiss burning unpleasantly on her lips. How could she have let him kiss her? She had felt nothing for him!

But she would NEVER tell that to the annoying, outraged guy in front of her.

"That's none of your business, Jane. Remember? You didn't find me that attractive, so don't get hysterical when other men do!"

He leaned down, thoroughly invading her personal space. She caught his scent, clean, masculine, slightly spicy, clearing her mind while making it fog over at the same time. She inhaled deeply, the pheromones inside her blood making her panties wet. His lips looked so luscious. Pale and soft, curving over perfect, pearly teeth. His eyes were glowing beacons, bright, jade-colored crystals drilling into her soul.

But his next words made her feel as if she had been doused with a bucket of ice water.

"This is not about my feelings! It's about the fact that you have been behaving ridiculously ever since this holiday started! I have to say, your midlife crisis is starting mighty early! This isn't you, Lisbon, strutting around with an "Eat Me" label around your neck, trying to attract any stray cat you can find. Look at you, dammit, you are dressed like a whore!"

She could see the shock in his eyes, saw him recoil as if he expected the sting of her slap, and she was truly, sorely tempted.

But she felt as if her flesh was scraped from her bones, raw, vulnerable, so emotional there seemed to be an ocean of pain and un-cried tears filling her, making her burst at the seams.

And no matter how hurtful his words were- he was right, and inside all the aching woundedness, she felt almost relieved. She could stop pretending now.

She approached him cautiously, saw his wide eyes, moist, horrified. He had lost control when he never did, not when Red John wasn't involved. But his nemesis' threat had messed with his mind, and things had changed between them. His protectiveness was frantic, uncontrolled, and he was obviously shocked at the force himself.

She stood ramrod straight, turning her glare to ice.

"You know what, Jane? You're right. This isn't me. I tried to play a role to find a place where I can belong, and that was stupid. I'm a bad actress, a bad liar, and this is all fake. The make-up, the bikini, the ridiculous stiletto heels."

She slipped them off and threw them as hard as she could, taking a deep breath of relief when they hit a dumpster with loud metallic clatter.

She looked at him, feeling much calmer than she had thought she would.

"If you'll excuse me now. I would like to take a bath. I hope you have a pleasant evening."

Slowly releasing a pent-up breath, she turned and walked away, putting her chin up regally.

Something inside her hurt so bad. But now, she was almost used to it.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Jane looked after her, shocked into speechlessness. Everything inside him screamed, bloody claws raking over his torn flesh. What had he done?

He wanted to run, catch her, shove her against the next wall and pour the truth into her face, let the caress of his lips say what he couldn't, mustn't tell her.

He couldn't believe she hadn't slapped him, when he had longed to slap himself, hard.

His hot blood cooled down, and he felt dizzy all of a sudden, sinking down on the pavement, clutching his aching chest while he tried to catch his breath.

And the darkness around him was nothing against the blackness descending over his soul, for his light was gone.

TBC

Ouch, ouch, double ouch. Sorry for that. But Thalia is not feeling happy right now, and she's whispering all kinds of moody things into my ear… things will light up, really! Next chapter up- tomorrow! It's already written, so I can PROMISE it!