Title: In the Cards

Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with The Mentalist, and no profit is being made by me, despite my growing stack of Christmas shopping bills!

Author's Note: Oh, you're still here! Good! This chapter was fun to write, though I'm not sure I've gotten them completely in character. We're getting close to the action of the story, so I hope you enjoy this rainy day in the cabin.

Chapter 9

It was a long morning, and Jane began to realize that being stuck in a house with one woman who had barricaded herself in her room to avoid killing him and another who deeply sympathized with her, with no chance of a case coming along to force them all to at least pretend to get along, was not a good thing. When the sky began to darken as a storm front rolled in, he decided to fix lunch a little early.

"There's a generator," Grace remarked.

"But does it power everything, or just some things?" Jane pointed out. "It's not like I'm otherwise occupied. Would you prefer tuna salad or chicken salad?"

"Chicken," Grace decided. "I'm going outside one more time before it starts pouring. Hey, do you think we should bring in some firewood?"

"Couldn't hurt," Jane said.

They ate a quiet lunch, and then Grace announced her intention of taking a nap since she would be up all night. "Will you be okay out here?" she asked.

"Of course. I may make a fire, or take a nap myself."

"See you later. Thanks for lunch!" she called, heading for her room.

Jane cleaned up, then decided to build a fire. It would make a nice contrast to the rain pattering against the windows. He didn't really feel like reading anymore, and he'd slept so well the first part of last night that he wasn't in the mood for a nap either. He ended up sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, watching the fire and thinking.

Things had been going so well. He'd enjoyed living in a house with other people around, even if one of them had been Mancini. Seeing new sides of Lisbon more than made up for the minor annoyance of her would-be boyfriend hanging around. But as usual, the specter of Red John had appeared to ruin everything.

No, he admitted, it wasn't Red John who'd ruined his little vacation; it was his obsession with him and the secretive habits that went along with it. Pretty much every serious disagreement he'd ever had with Lisbon was rooted in that. He realized he was tired of it, and he could only guess how weary of it Lisbon must be. And it looked like this trap was destined to remain unsprung, so he couldn't even console himself that he was any closer to his quarry.

His thoughts drifted to the version of his daughter he'd hallucinated and her impatience with his quest. Obviously part of his mind wasn't so dedicated to his obsession. Maybe a growing part. Was it possible he would someday reach a point where he wanted to give up? What would that even look like? He certainly wasn't eager to walk away from the CBI again.

The sound of a door being opened caught his attention, and he stayed quiet as he listened to Lisbon walk into the kitchen and open the refrigerator. Ah, someone was getting used to being fed regularly. He called out, "There's chicken salad in the green bowl."

The sound of something being dropped against a glass shelf told him she hadn't known he was there. "Geez, Jane," she muttered. "Where are you?"

"Down here." He raised a hand and waved at her. "The bread's in the breadbox, and if you insist on insulting my skill by slathering mayonnaise on the bread, it's in the door. There's a fruit salad in the blue dish if you like."

"Thanks," she said grudgingly.

He listened to her making her lunch, enjoying the homey sounds even though he knew this was only a temporary truce before the war resumed. She might decide it was useless to lecture him further, but without work to interrupt, he bet she could give him the silent treatment for days. He didn't look forward to it.

He was surprised when she brought her plate and glass of water into the living room, settling in the corner of the couch where she had a good view of his profile but he couldn't see her without craning his neck. Hm, this was a new variation on the silent treatment. Being stared at, even by Lisbon, was a little unsettling. He decided that trying to change the situation would only lead to more unpleasantness. Let her punish him in whatever way she chose, he thought. From her perspective, he certainly deserved it. Hell, from his perspective too.

He risked a glance at her when he heard her set her plate on the floor. She was lovely in the firelight, but the shadows made her look pensive and a little sad. That was so much worse than her anger. He began trying and discarding things to say that would take that frown off her face. Why hadn't he thought to put marshmallows on the shopping list? Roasting a few would be a perfect distraction.

The only warning he got was her intake of breath, steeling herself, before she asked, "When you said I could ask you for anything, was that a one-time offer?"

His mouth went suddenly dry. He was sure she wasn't going to take him up on what he'd been offering that night, which meant she had something in mind he wasn't going to like. But he was reluctant to take his words back, because damn it, he'd meant them. "No. You can always ask me for anything, Lisbon." He wanted to add something facetious about ignoring any petty requests like behaving on cases and not pulling stunts in courtrooms, but he sensed she was serious about this.

"Okay." Her voice was nervous, but determined. This was going to be bad, he thought.

She took another fortifying breath. "May I have one hour of honesty, please?"

He swallowed. Her polite phrasing was at odds with her firm tone, and he realized she expected him to refuse. She was making a point, which was that he was full of shit and she was right not to trust him. And she was using words that he had spoken honestly to do it. He'd be furious if he weren't secretly proud of her.

"That's what I thought," she said, standing. Anger and disappointment warred for dominance in her tone and, he saw when he looked up, her posture.

"One hour of honesty," he said resolutely. "I'm sure you have some ground rules?"

She looked down at him in astonishment. "For one hour, you tell me only the truth. No lies, no misdirects."

He returned her stare, equally determined. "Am I allowed to decline to answer certain questions?" He was going to do this, he thought, but he didn't have to unilaterally disarm.

Lisbon thought about it, while he enjoyed watching her try to outwit him. She knew that to agree would render the hour basically useless, but to compel his answers to any question she asked might prove damaging to more than his pride. "You may," she said, "but for each question you refuse to answer, I will add one minute to the hour."

Oh, she was good. "Agreed. And in return, I will agree that if this gets too painful for you, you may stop without forfeiting the time remaining. We can resume when you choose."

She looked surprised at the idea that he might not be the only one who would find this painful. Oh, Lisbon, he thought. Be careful what you do to us.

Because he could guess at least one of her questions, and he had no idea how to answer her honestly when he hadn't even answered himself.

mmm

Lisbon sat back down on the couch, a little dazed. She wondered if she might be dreaming; it seemed impossible that Jane had agreed to this. Or maybe he was playing her somehow. Maybe, she realized as she looked down at him, he was betting she wouldn't have the guts to ask anything too personal. Did he think she'd waste this opportunity talking about Red John? He'd tell her any thoughts on that eventually anyway, just not when she thought he should.

He had some nerve underestimating her. She jumped right in. "Why did you pretend to forget telling me you love me?"

Jane gave what looked like an involuntary smile, gone almost as soon as it appeared. He didn't take his eyes off the fire as he said, "It didn't seem like the time or place to get into a possibly lengthy discussion." He paused before adding, "Plus, you looked like you might bolt at any second. I had to help you get your head in the game."

She made a face at him, which he couldn't see. "We have time now. So what was that about? Panicked babbling?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't say panicked, but it was certainly unintentional."

She should have made him promise to tell her the whole truth, she thought. "Okay," she said. "So all that in the diner wasn't about love, just a passing moment of lust. Got it."

He opened his mouth, but caught himself, apparently realizing she hadn't asked a question. Then he grimaced and shook his head. "You're oversimplifying."

"What's to oversimplify?" she said, as if it didn't matter a bit. "You rediscovered the joys of sex, realized you missed it, and thought to yourself, 'Hey, I can talk Lisbon into anything, and she's not bad looking. I'll have a go at her.' Totally understandable, I guess. Though not really something a true friend would do."

"That wasn't what I was thinking, and you know it. I already agreed to be honest, Lisbon, so you don't have to try to make me angry hoping I'll let something slip." His usual smugness faltered for just a second, and she thought she saw anger there no matter what he said.

He was right. There was no reason not to be direct. "Do you love me?"

"Yes." He said it firmly, with no hesitation.

Dammit, that just raised more questions, she thought in annoyance. "Like a sister?"

He scowled up at her. "If I had a sister, I hope to God I wouldn't sit across the table from her thinking about what she'd enjoy in bed."

The thrill went straight through her, down to her toes. She couldn't speak for a moment, and her voice was a little unsteady as she asked, "What did you decide?"

Jane looked at her with that intense gaze he'd had in the diner, and his voice dropped into that low, rough tone that made all her hair stand on end. "I'll give you a chance to withdraw that question, Lisbon. Because if I answer it, you won't be able to get it out of your head. And we're not going to be in a position to do anything about it for a while."

She swallowed. "All right, I'll ask something else. What—what would it mean to you if we slept together?"

Jane rested his elbows on his bent knees and let out a long breath. "There's not a short answer for that."

"Then give me the long one."

He was quiet for a while, fidgeting with his wedding ring as he often did when he was unsure about something. He didn't seem to know he did it, and it reminded her that he was fragile in unexpected ways. The symbolism of his unconscious gesture wasn't lost on her: she was basically thinking about sleeping with a married man. It wasn't so much that he was married to a ghost, but to his quest. She would only be his mistress, and there would be no divorce to clear the way for anything more.

She needed to stop this. She hadn't started it with any intention of touching off a seismic event in their relationship, the only stable thing in his life. It hadn't occurred to her until now that he might hide the truth to protect something so important to them both. "You don't have to—" she began.

He started talking at the same time. "I don't remember the last words I said to Charlotte. I know the gist of it—she was asking me for a new dolly she'd seen somewhere. But I was in a hurry, running late, and I basically blew her off." He took a deep breath. "That's the worst part about lasts. You don't know that time is the last, so you don't take the time to slow down, cherish the moment."

Lisbon kept silent and still, afraid any interruption would crack his composure.

"It's the same with my wife. I didn't know our last time was our last. It was just an ordinary night, and there was no reason to think there wouldn't be a thousand more like it. I can't tell you how many times I've tried to recapture it, but I didn't bother to commit it to memory at the time, and by the time I could think again, it was mostly gone."

Tears gathered in Lisbon's eyes, and she tried to blink them back. She knew how that felt; how many times had she tried to remember exactly what she'd said to her mother before she left that day?

"So you ask me what it would mean to me to be with you. It would mean a chance to really cherish a moment again, to wonder at what a lucky bastard I am. A chance to rest in the arms of someone who knows me and cares about me once more before I die. It would mean I could be grateful that for once I was giving instead of taking, that I could be sure you'd have at least one good memory of me, one moment when I knew you weren't regretting the day I came into your life."

He paused. "I don't really know what else to tell you, or if that answers your question. I guess I think of you as my last chance in a way. Who else would ever put up with me long enough to really know me? And I know that's selfish, but it's not a surprise to you that I'm selfish." His expression became wry as he tried for his normal tone again. "And I'm well aware that the emotional mess I just admitted to will most likely put you off the entire idea for good, since you've always dropped men like hot potatoes once you find out they have issues. The last thing you want is a needy emotional wreck."

"The last thing I want is another needy emotional wreck," she corrected. "You, I'm stuck with."

He grinned up at her, but it didn't reach his eyes, which were still sad. She swallowed the fierce urge to put her arms around him, knowing that wasn't what he needed from her at times like these. "Are you going to work an analysis of my behavior into every answer?"

The false grin converted into a smaller but more honest smile. "It's not against your rules, so probably. I have to have some fun."

Fun. That was what they needed after her ill-advised attempt to delve into his thoughts. She should have realized that forcing him to talk about his feelings robbed them of what should have been an intimate moment, changing it into a painful interrogation. How had her clever plan to punish him and satisfy her curiosity at the same time lost its luster so quickly? She could stop anytime, but she doubted she'd want to pick it back up again.

Jane took a deep breath. "Okay. Next?"

She grinned down at him as another brilliant idea struck her. "Poker."

Jane blinked at her, startled. She savored the expression. "You want to use your remaining minutes of honesty to play poker?"

"Sure. If you can't bluff, I might have a chance of winning, memory palace and all," she said triumphantly.

"Ah," Jane said, rubbing his hands together. "A challenge!"

mmm

Grace seemed amazed to find them playing poker and laughing together two hours later. Jane wondered if she was more surprised at their reconciliation or the fact that Lisbon's pile of corn chips was slightly larger than his own. Though surely she was used to the former by now.

The three of them passed a pleasant evening, taking turns coming up with ways to handicap him so Lisbon and Grace had a chance at beating him. He even agreed to play blindfolded, wrapping his fingers around Lisbon's wrist so he could read her pulse as he discarded. He lost, but not badly, and the sparkle of amused triumph in Lisbon's eyes evaporated the sting of defeat.

Really, he thought, he should arrange for them to be holed up in a safe house more often. At least once a year. Now that would be a New Year's resolution he could never admit to anyone.

He had to bow out to fix dinner, a simple meal of spaghetti since he was starting too late to undertake anything complicated. Lisbon and Grace kept playing, and their good-natured smack talk kept him amused while he worked.

"Wine?" he asked as he began setting the table.

"I'm on duty." Grace shook her head.

"We're all on duty," Lisbon agreed.

"It was just a thought," he said, shrugging. That was the problem with using a serial killer to set up this little interlude, he thought. He'd given up on Red John making a move, pretty much, but the minute Lisbon did, this would all be over. "It's not every night I get to have a nice dinner with my two favorite women."

Grace and Lisbon looked at him with identical "you're so full of it" expressions. Grace said, "Do you even know any other women, Jane?"

"Know, yes. Slave away in the kitchen for, no." He set the huge serving bowl of pasta down on the table.

"That smells great," Grace said.

"Much more of this and I'll have to go on a diet," Lisbon remarked.

Jane let out a bark of laughter before he could stop himself. "Lisbon, that is the most delusional thing I've ever heard you say. We'd have to be here six months at least before you were anywhere near overweight."

"All I've done is sit, sleep, and eat. I'll be pulling out the fat jeans in no time," she lamented.

"And what are those, a size two?" he scoffed. "I am prepared to lay out one entire paycheck that you'll leave here weighing no more than you did this time last year."

"I don't bet paychecks," Lisbon replied, taking a heaping helping. "Think of something else."

He was delighted. He won either way, after all. He'd like to see her angles smoothed out, just a little. Although she could get downright pudgy and he'd probably still find her ridiculously adorable. "Okay. I'll bet you a month's supply of diner pie."

She gave him a look that started as surprise and heated to speculation. "I don't know. Seems to me I get fat either way. How about if I win, you start jogging with me?"

Grace choked on her drink. Jane said, "With stakes like those, I may be forced to extreme measures to avoid losing."

"Oh, like you wouldn't anyway," Lisbon said. "Take it or leave it, Jane."

"You're on," he said. "Though I seem to be at a disadvantage here, since I'll have to take your word for how much you weighed last year."

"What, the master of observation can't estimate my weight at a glance?"

"I learned early in life that guessing a woman's weight is a no-win proposition," he replied. Reflectively, he added, "That was the first time I ever got punched in the nose."

"Who was she?" Grace asked.

A knock on the door startled them. Lisbon immediately got up, drawing her weapon and motioning for Grace to come with her. "Under the table," she ordered him.

"Really?" he whined. "Won't that look pretty stupid if it's just a neighbor? Besides, Red John doesn't knock."

"Get out of sight," she hissed.

"Teresa?" came Mancini's voice from outside. "It's just me."

Lisbon and Grace exchanged glances but remained on alert as they approached the door. It was just Mancini after all, though, looking slightly less dapper than usual as a result of the steady drizzle.

"Gabe," Lisbon said, surprised. "We didn't expect you. Is everything all right?"

"Yes," he said. "I just missed you." He leaned in for a kiss, and Lisbon let him, though Jane could see she wasn't comfortable with an audience.

Grace smiled. "You're just in time for dinner."

"It smells great. Did you cook?" He smiled back.

With a laugh, Grace said, "Oh no, Jane hasn't let me in the kitchen at all. It's nice to have a home cooked meal I don't have to cook!"

"Glad you enjoyed it," Mancini said, "because I checked in with Cho before I left, and he told me they caught a new case. And Rigsby's boy has gotten worse, so he wondered if you might go back and help out. I took tomorrow off, so I can cover for you."

Jane was pleased that Lisbon glanced at him, looking for his take on this, before turning back to Mancini. "Oh, no, poor Ben! What is it, did he say?"

"No, but apparently teething is also involved," Mancini said. "Poor kid."

"Should I go, Boss?" Grace was clearly torn. "I hate to leave you guys alone up here."

Lisbon looked at Mancini, then at Jane again, obviously hoping for a clear read. He gave her a little nod, his heart speeding up. Mancini was definitely not telling them everything, but they had nothing to gain by calling his bluff at this point. They couldn't check with Cho without the risk of revealing their location, after all. And if this was the beginning of a gambit by Red John, he'd just as soon have Grace out of it.

Lisbon said, "Finish your dinner before you start back. You might as well enjoy the sole perk of this assignment."

Grace's smile lit up her face. "Thanks!"

"And don't worry," Mancini added. "I won't let anything happen to Teresa."

Jane noted that he made no promises about him. So much for what had looked like a lovely evening.

mmm

At least Mancini, the only one of them who'd worked all day, went to bed first. Jane felt it was the least he could do, since he was such a poor substitute for Grace's company. He'd ended up banished to the couch to read, because it was so awkward sitting at a table with one person who did his best to pretend he wasn't there and another who was making every effort to include him in the conversation, even if it was about basketball or some such nonsense.

Once Lisbon was finished with the obligatory goodnight kiss in Mancini's doorway, she joined him on the couch. He put down his book and smiled at her, looking for clues about her mood.

"So?" she prompted.

"I won't be bothering to put on my pajamas tonight," he replied.

"You own pajamas?" Well, he couldn't blame her for her surprise. He slept in his clothes at the office, and often when they were staying in a hotel.

"I do," he said. "Not nearly as nice as your lovely robe, though."

"Oh, that. James' wife is always trying to bring out my feminine side," she sighed. It sounded like a quote.

"Well, I for one am grateful for her gift, if not for the misdirected impulse behind it," he said. "It made a very soothing blanket."

She gave him a solemn look. "Sleep in your room tonight with the door locked. Promise me."

"I will if you will."

"Deal." She turned sideways to face him, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. It was a self-soothing move, and he hoped he wasn't the reason she needed comfort. "So you think this is it?"

He dropped his voice to match her quiet tone. "Maybe. It's hard to be sure. It could really be that Ben is worse. And of course you are irresistible, well worth a long drive to see even without the possibility of sex."

She rolled her eyes, her normal response to his compliments. He regretted not getting in a few while he was still in the hour of honesty so she couldn't easily dismiss them as teasing or outright mockery.

She was looking troubled. Well, it couldn't be easy to think her boyfriend was using her in one of Red John's games. At least he'd had no illusions about Lorelei. He selfishly hoped this would help her see that encounter in a new, more sympathetic light.

"I want to thank you," she said softly.

He blinked at her. Had she really just said that? Or was he hallucinating? Maybe Mancini had slipped something into his after-dinner tea? "What for?" he asked, letting his incredulity show.

"For today. I know that wasn't easy. It wasn't my intent to be cruel."

He shook his head. "You weren't. I've been far more cruel to you at times." For six months, for example.

"True," she said thoughtfully. "But I was angry, and you could have blown me off, but you didn't. I appreciate that."

"There's a time for everything, even honesty." He smiled as if it were a joke, even though it wasn't. "And you let me off easy, all things considered." Though he'd known she would. Showing her his scars was a sure way to defuse her anger. Her compassion was stronger than her fury, every single time.

"I just want you to know," she said slowly, picking her words with unusual care, "you can always ask me for anything, too."

He was touched, he really was. But she was being absurd. "Lisbon, I ask you for things on a nearly constant basis. And you say yes far more than you ought to. Your generosity is one of the wonders of my world."

She smiled, accepting the compliment for once. "I feel like I spend a lot of time telling you no."

"Not about the important things. No other person in the world would have let me talk her into a scheme after admitting I'd been conning her for six whole months, especially since I did it in the most heartbreaking way possible."

He expected her to deny the heartbroken part, but she didn't. "I know you never hurt me for the sake of hurting me," she said. "It's always collateral damage from your quest. A quest I want to help you with, by the way. Even though we might not agree on the ending."

He nodded. They definitely didn't agree on that, and never would. Though he suspected her thoughts might be evolving, she would never admit it, least of all to him.

She unfolded herself and got to her feet, to his great disappointment. "Promise you'll go to bed soon and not wander around in the night."

"I could sleep on the floor in your room if it would make you feel better," he offered with a sly grin.

"Only if you agree to be handcuffed to something," she retorted.

"Oooooo. Tempting." He got a kick out of the momentary panic in her eyes before she mirrored his own mischievous expression.

"I will keep that in mind."

Then she was gone. He waited only a few minutes before fulfilling his promise and going to his room. Much as he was tempted to play bait, he didn't want to compromise her safety. And he knew she would come to check that he'd done as told before she allowed herself to fall asleep.

They both needed their rest. Tomorrow was shaping up to be an interesting day.