Title: In the Cards

Disclaimer: I own nothing in here you'd envy.

Author's Note: Blink-and-you'll miss it spoiler for Red fic is now getting off the Season 5 bus and remaining firmly in its happy little Volker-less universe. I have no idea where the show is going but I have the anxious conviction I won't like it, so I'm going to pretend it's not happening. Because that usually works so well for me. Yep.

mmm

Chapter 4

Lisbon slammed the car door harder than necessary and turned on the ignition, not even waiting for Jane to finish buckling his seat belt before backing up. When she had gotten out of the driveway and could safely spare some attention from the road, she snapped, "Seriously, Jane?"

"I was working the case," he explained, as if not noticing her anger.

She imitated his voice badly, on purpose, as she quoted him. "I'd call you a jackass, except jackasses are more interesting than you are."

"And it was obvious he didn't care about being a jackass, only being called uninteresting. The man is proud of his jackassery, Lisbon. He craves attention and he has no compunction about how he gets it. A prime suspect if ever there was one." He settled back into his seat with the air of someone who has made his point irrefutably.

"Jane, I could say the same things about you," she pointed out.

"But you would be wrong, and you know it. It's not my socially questionable behavior I'm proud of, it's the results when they help us with the case. Which they nearly always do. It's behavior with a purpose, not merely attention seeking."

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Except when it's just because you're bored and you find other people's anger amusing."

"Lisbon, your anger is the only kind I find truly amusing. And that's just because it's the only time your reactions aren't filtered through your formidable socialization. I mean honestly, 'sheep dip'?" He snickered. "You're a cop and that's the best you can do?"

"Keep it up and you'll hear some new words all right," she muttered.

"Fire away." He grinned at her.

"Not if you're going to enjoy it." She kept her eyes on the road, trying to discourage any more conversation.

Jane looked out the window and didn't attempt to continue teasing her. Lisbon hoped he was thinking about the case, but she knew it was far more likely he was thinking about how to find Lorelei. So she was taken aback when he remarked, "We are all at the mercy of our subconscious. All those needs and desires we won't acknowledge or admit to, all the weaknesses we try and fail to overcome."

She had no idea what to say to that. Was he talking about the case? Lorelei? Himself? Silence was definitely the safest response, she decided, though she couldn't resist a quick glance at him.

"We humans are hard wired to seek out connection. Touch produces a biochemical reaction that can boost our immune systems, lengthen our lives, and alter our moods," he continued, still in that detached musing tone.

Lisbon was only mildly surprised when he reached out and took her right hand off the steering wheel, grasping it lightly in his. She adjusted her other hand to more comfortably steer by itself. "You're trying to alter my mood by interfering with my driving?" she grumbled.

He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Lack of touch has corresponding negative effects."

She swallowed her retort that she was getting plenty of touch these days, since she was actually dating. Sort of. If that was the conversation he was trying to start, he'd have to try harder. Or maybe he really was talking about himself, she thought. Who did Jane have to touch, after all? Oh, he shook hands and even occasionally hugged people when he found reason to, but when he reached out for comfort, it was always to her. He knew she knew that, so he knew she wouldn't pull away. He played on her compassion regularly, had been doing so since their first meeting. His cold reading of her had told him exactly how to get what he wanted from her. All he'd had to do was get rid of Hannigan and slide right into the role of troublemaker she kept trying to help.

She sighed wearily. "You're a manipulative son of a bitch, Jane."

He smiled sadly. "Yes, I am. But never to your detriment, Lisbon. Not on purpose, anyway." He began massaging her fingers gently. It felt way too good for her to make him stop, even though she knew she should. "Touch increases trust and reduces fear. It also increases empathy, though you have no need of that."

"So you're going to need my trust in the next few minutes and need a little help getting it?" she guessed.

"So suspicious," he sighed. "Maybe this isn't about you. Maybe I'm trying to reduce my fears, or working on my woefully short supply of empathy. If I had a little more of that, perhaps I'd behave more in accordance with your ideas of acceptable conduct. A little hand holding would be a small price to pay for that, wouldn't it?"

"If it came with a guarantee, maybe." She frowned. "What are you up to, Jane? You shut yourself up in that stupid attic despite all my attempts to get you to actually do your job, and now you want to play the lost, lonely little boy? Well, boo hoo. If you want human contact, try hanging out where the humans are."

He chuckled. "Always an answer for everything."

"You should try one of them sometime. You might be surprised. I can give pretty good advice."

"I have no doubt, and if I ever find myself needing to act in a wise and prudent manner, you'll be the first one I call," he promised.

"Please do. I'll sell tickets."

Jane smirked and went back to looking out the window in silence. Lisbon moved her hand so she could lace her fingers through his, grimly amused when he initially resisted, no doubt thinking she was trying to pull free. I am not the one pulling away, she thought. Well, she could also be the one probing for answers.

"You know, you can't complain if I choose to keep walking when you push me away," she remarked, trying for the same dispassionate tone he'd used earlier.

He took a moment to answer. "I assure you, I have no desire to push you away."

"Okay then, you want me to stand still while you walk away," she said. "It feels exactly the same from where I sit. And I don't like it."

"I don't expect you to."

"And if you try to sell me a load of crap about trying to protect me, I'll break your finger." She adjusted her grip and squeezed his little finger hard.

"Ow," he complained. "There's no need for violence, Lisbon. I said no such thing. I would never imply that you need my protection. You're the one with the firepower, after all."

"The deniability thing doesn't wash either," she said. "I get held responsible for your actions whether I knew about them at the time or not. It's my job to know what you're up to. If you are planning something stupid and you don't want me to catch flak for it, then you'd better resign."

He shook his head. "How far would I get without resources? Sorry, Lisbon. I can't give up, even for you."

"You're the one who said it's better to regret something you've done than something you didn't do. So if I'm going to catch hell, I'd rather it be for something I was involved in, instead of something I find out about right before I get suspended or fired."

"It's not your job I'm worried about."

She glanced at him again. "It's way too late to keep me off Red John's radar."

He grimaced, but didn't deny it.

"So what's the real reason you're sneaking around behind my back?" she demanded.

He was quiet for so long that she gave up on getting an answer. Lisbon held onto her temper by playing a little game she'd invented years ago. She thought of it as "What Would Jane Do If." For instance, what would Jane do if she pulled over and punched him in the nose? No, that was no good. She'd punched him before, and she had no desire to hear him whine about it while looking at her with wounded eyes. In all three of the scenarios she came up with in answer to the game's premise, whining featured prominently.

She remembered once when she'd been particularly furious, she'd come up with "what would Jane do if I kicked him in the balls?" He'd read that one off her expression and actually taken a step back. Then he'd looked at her smirk and taken another. That was a good one.

Then, of course, there were the ones she never, ever thought where he could see her, like "what would Jane do if I stuck my tongue in his mouth to shut him up?" She'd never decided if the scenario where he used it as blackmail material was realistic, but it was probably more likely than the one where he kissed her back with enthusiasm. The winning answer there was probably that he would just go on making his point when he got his lips back, she thought in exasperation.

Jane's voice broke into her thoughts. "Think of it this way: if you're springing a trap, you want someone you trust to remain outside the trap so they can get you out of it."

She mulled that one over. "That doesn't explain why I can't know about the trap ahead of time."

"When I have that figured out, rest assured I'll let you know."

"That's a nice try, Jane, but the truth is, you don't want me anywhere near you when you find Red John because you're afraid I'll get in the way of your vengeance. And you're willing to take the chance he'll kill you if I don't get there in time."

"And you aren't. Yes. Happy now?"

"Not even remotely," she snapped. "Hasn't it occurred to you that if he kills you, he might get away before I find you?"

"Unlikely. I have more faith in you than that."

"Flattering, but irrelevant."

"It's not irrelevant to me," he said. "It's a great comfort to me that if I fail, you'll finish him for me."

"Arrest him, you mean," she corrected.

"And you think that's realistic? Think seriously about it for a minute, Lisbon. You walk in the room, gun drawn, and find him standing over my bloody, gutted body with a dripping knife. And you expect to just calmly pull out your handcuffs? I don't think that's what happens next."

Against her will, a picture of the scene formed in her head, followed immediately by a rush of rage so strong her vision blurred momentarily.

"Ow!" Jane yelped, managing to yank his hand out of her white-knuckled grip and flexing his fingers as if he feared they might be broken.

She didn't apologize; it was his own damn fault for starting it. She wondered when they had shifted to playing "What Would Lisbon Do If." Well, the likely scenarios didn't involve calm, that was for sure. She thought she'd probably blow Red John's head off. Or maybe shoot him right through his black heart. Or maybe shoot him in the gut so he'd die slowly while she made him very, very sorry he'd ever laid a hand on Patrick Jane.

"Goddammit, Jane," she snarled, annoyed that her voice shook. "If that image shows up in my nightmares I am going to walk straight up to you the next morning and punch you in the nose."

"Fair enough," he murmured. "Care to share? That certainly didn't look like an arrest you were thinking about."

"I'm a cop. I'm trained not to let anger sway my judgment, especially while I'm pointing a gun at someone," she said firmly. "Would I want to kill him? Yes. But I'd know it was wrong."

Jane grinned. "You are adorable when you try to lie to me. Ow!"

It was her turn to grin as he rubbed his shoulder in pain, and then pouted and whined, "Really Lisbon, I compliment you and that's how you respond?"

Yep. She'd won another round of her game.

mmm

Lisbon had already left for the night when the call came in, but she met them at the scene, for which Jane was grateful. It was no fun making wisecracks about the victim's profession with only Cho to pretend to ignore them. "So Lisbon, d'you suppose someone found out what was really in the sausage?" he called without looking up from where he was crouching beside the body.

The shoes that came into the edge of his vision were shinier and more pointy than usual, and he looked up in astonishment, following lovely bare legs up to a shorter-than-expected skirt of a dress, of all things. Ah. She'd been on a date, and not just any date. He grinned up at her and let out a wolf whistle, because he knew it would annoy her and make her feel less awkward.

"Shut up, Jane," she warned. "What do we have, Cho?"

"George Mercer, local butcher."

"And he's our problem because?" Lisbon demanded irritably. Jane deduced that she hadn't gotten to eat her dinner, though from her slightly looser than normal posture, he'd bet she'd managed a before dinner drink. Doughnuts were clearly called for before the night got much more advanced.

"This side of the street is state property," Cho replied.

Jane tuned out the cop talk. Really, it was perfectly obvious the man had been on the losing end of a domestic dispute. He was far more interested in how Lisbon's dating life was progressing. Still no consummation yet, he could tell, which seemed odd. Lisbon was the down-to-business type normally. She wasn't looking for anything long-term, so there was no reason to wait for the perfect moment or dither over whether he was "the one." If she didn't want to sleep with Mancini, why keep seeing him?

The answer that sprang to mind was one he wanted to reject, but it was the most likely. If sex wasn't her interest, then she was either taking goodwill-building to new heights of absurdity or she still thought he might be Red John's mole. In which case, there was a word for what she was contemplating doing, a word far too ugly for him to apply to Lisbon. He wondered if he might be able to steer her away from her course without her mistaking his motive for jealousy.

Then he wondered if he was just a tad jealous. Well, yes, he concluded. Sitting across a dinner table from Lisbon in that dress, drinking a nice wine and trying to be unobtrusive about looking at her cleavage, sounded like a fine way to pass an evening indeed. There was no reason Mancini should be allowed such a treat, particularly if something about him was making Lisbon suspicious.

Obviously he needed to pay a little more attention to Lisbon, without letting up on his quest to interrogate Lorelei. He could start tonight. If he played his cards right (and he always did), he could finish out the evening sitting across a diner table from Lisbon, eating eggs and pretending not to notice all the things her dress revealed that he normally didn't see. Or maybe he would ogle her in a friendly, teasing way.

He would decide when he got there.