I'm back from Hong Kong. I had a great time, though it was utterly exhausting as well - I slept over twelve hours after coming home. So much to see and do and so little time to accomplish it. And finally a place where getting delicious tea everywhere you go is a given! I took quite a bit along with me, some Oolong to die for as well as Osmanthus and Jasmine tea. I know a certain someone, who'd very much appreciated it there as well...

Anyway, thanks for all your kind reviews in my absence. I'll try to answer them all, but I thought you'd prefer to get a new chapter first. So here we go. You'll notice that it's a bit different in style, because I'm mostly recounting events. This'll also hold true for the next one. I'll be going back to my usual way of writing after that.

Warning: Sexual content.


During the next days, things calmed down a bit in the lives of Patrick and Teresa. At first, it had still been rather busy at work. Checking the wardens' duty roster, they'd found out who'd slipped the sedative into Alex Jane's evening meal in prison. But as the guilty guard had been bribed by Keen, no new leads had come up that way. Other than being corrupt, the guy had turned out clean enough.

On a more personal note, Patrick had spoken to his grandparents the day after their last, disastrous meeting and the old Jane couple had managed to convince their grandson that they still wanted to get to know him - more than ever in fact. He'd met them for lunch a few times and they had plans to go to the opera together on Wednesday night the next week. Even Uncle Matthew had called and apologized profoundly for his horrible behavior and told Patrick he would very much like to try for a fresh start, if Patrick was amenable, and that his wife and children were very curious about the new family member as well. He'd also written a public letter of apology, which had been posted in the bullpen, and at Patrick's insistence, Teresa had hushed things up, so there wouldn't be any legal consequences for Matthew.

Furthermore, the consultant had taken some time to sort through all the events that had happened and the feelings and emotions connected to them. Things had been a bit slow-going for him at work, so he'd used the freedom to either retreat to his hide-out in the attic or take long solitary walks and do some serious thinking and re-adjusting. He had tried to involve Teresa in the process and had made a habit of sharing at least parts of his insights with her in the evenings. It had helped him actually, especially when he had been stuck in some way, to discuss it with her. After all, she knew him very well and was always willing to give him honest and supportive advice or challenge his views. This held particularly true for those cases in which he had fallen back into his old patterns of self-loathing and blaming himself.

Teresa on the other hand had started to share some of her own insecurities with him, often in an attempt to show him that she understood him. At least that was how it had started. She'd quickly realized just how disburdening it was, to talk with someone about her childhood, the problems she had with her brothers, and the sadness connected with the fact that her relationship with her brothers was so strained. Patrick had turned out to be a good listener and his advice had been sound. With his encouragement she'd even brought herself to call each of her siblings and had been able to mend a few fences.


Mostly their talks had been happening in bed and were preceded by some intense lovemaking. Their desire for each other had only seemed to increase with every day and on one memorable occasion Lisbon had even made them be late for work. She of course still claimed that it had been entirely Patrick's fault, but he kept telling her that no jury in the world would agree with her. She had countered that argument by insisting that any jury in the world which consisted of over 50% females and/or gays wouldn't possibly lay any blame on her. It had all started with Patrick having a VERY bad morning:

First, Lisbon's alarm was extra loud and devious after yet another much too short night, then she pulled the comforter off the bed when she got up, leaving him freezing. When he finally forced himself out of bed, his eyes were still in sleep-mode and naturally he first run into the closet door Teresa had left open and then bumped his toe on the drawer beside the door.

Cursing, he staggered to the bathroom and into the shower where the shampoo promptly decided to become his mortal enemy by getting in his already bleary eyes, which led to him bumping his head on the shower wall. That it turned out to be a bad hair day with his curls doing whatever they wanted no matter how much he tried to tame them, and that he cut himself while shaving goes without saying.

He then had to change out of his favorite shirt because it had sustained a blood stain from his cut, and since he urgently needed to do his laundry, he was stuck with one he didn't like at all. So by the time he made it down to the kitchen, he was the most pathetic picture of desolation Teresa had ever seen: Both his shirt and vest were wrongly buttoned, his curls stood on end, he was squinting and, most prominently, pouting like there was no tomorrow. She found him irresistibly endearing.

"Jane? You need to clean up a bit. You are a mess," was the first thing she told him, teasing him with nearly the exact words she'd used on him nine years ago at their first meeting. Then she laughed her head off. He turned on his heels, grumbling about her being mean and how he was going back to bed because the universe was out to get him today due to some cosmic conspiracy. And then he stumbled up the stairs again with as much dignity as possible, which, in Lisbon's opinion at least, wasn't that much.

She followed him, partly to taunt him some more and partly to make sure he didn't hurt himself any further. After entering the bedroom, she told him very clearly that he couldn't go back to sleep. And then he stood before her, puppy-dog eyes alternatingly looking at her and the bed with longing, and she was unable to resist. She jumped him, pushed him onto the bed, and ravished him with sudden urge.

In her haste she ruined his last clean shirt, having no patience for all the stupid buttons on it, and she took great pleasure tousling his curls even more. The sex was rough, wild, and unrestricted because she was so immensely turned on by his disgruntled state and he had had a frustrating morning so far.

After they'd both reached their releases, they spent some time sharing avid, open mouthed kisses, nearly devouring each other, which turned into another round of love-making, albeit a tamer one this time.

When they were both finally sated, she insisted they take another shower - together. He warned her that that wouldn't be a good idea, but followed her lead. This resulted in round number three and Patrick's instant reconciliation with both the shower stall and his shampoo.

Afterwards it had taken some serious convincing on Teresa's part to make him do the unthinkable and go to work wearing only a t-shirt under his three-piece-suit. So by the time they made it to HQ, it was already almost 10 am and they got quite a few surprised looks from their teammates. Lisbon mumbled something about checking out a lead on the way, but her faint blush ruined the effect of her lie completely.

Patrick just rolled his eyes at her obvious inability to fib even the slightest bit. And when asked about his lack of proper outfit, he used his answer to get her out of the line of fire. He promptly spun an elaborate, completely outrageous tale about a suspect trying to bunk and him heroically both chasing and tackling the dangerous man destroying his last clean shirt in the process, and all attention was pulled from Teresa immediately. She escaped to her office half-way through his rendition with a bright smile on her face and the firm conviction that she'd just fallen in love with him all over again.


In regards to their investigation of Alex Jane's murder, they were stuck waiting for the results from the secret DNA analysis and trying to get new information out of Keen. Patrick had conducted several interviews with him, but after the one following their initial questioning of him, he'd clammed up completely. Jane was still trying to find out why because he'd been convinced he'd cracked Keen during their second talk.

Obviously the man had revealed something important during that time, which had scared him so much he'd decided not to talk at all anymore. But Patrick couldn't for the life of him figure out what it had been, though he'd gone over the whole conversation hundreds of times, repeating it in his head word for word as if it was happening right now, so he wouldn't miss anything important. It had played out like this:

"Patrick! So nice of you to visit me again. And another tea – how considerate of you," Keen greeted him.

"Sorry to disappoint, but the tea's all mine, Little John. Nothing for you, I'm afraid," Patrick answered coldly and took a seat beside him like during their first interview, and once again Lisbon sat facing them both.

"Don't call me that, you bastard," the mole predictably protested.

Jane cast him a sideways glance, smirking in his face. "My offer still stands, Little John. You address me with respect and I just might be convinced to do you the same courtesy – or not."

Keen turned red with anger, which Patrick immediately commented on, telling him that now he even looked like a Little Red John.

"You're nothing but an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, Jane. I don't see what's so special about you. You're just a sad, bitter man, nothing special," their suspect ranted.

"I've never claimed otherwise, Little John. But it certainly seems to be a sour spot for you. Are you jealous of me, maybe?" Patrick taunted him.

Keen boiled with anger after that. "Jealous? Of you? Never!" he spat.

"Ah, I guess we can safely assume I'm right then. Green-eyed like our Agent Lisbon here, just not so beautiful, I'm afraid." Jane decided to rub more salt in this particular wound. This earned him a rather deadly glare from his lover as well, but he could live with that.

"No, I'm not. And I don't see a real reason why I should be. I can't understand why he talks about you like that all the time. You're just an ordinary man," the SacPD officer tried to taunt him back.

"So he talks about me all the time? That must be tedious. I understand your discontentment. Though, compared with you, I guess I must be pretty remarkable, huh, Little John?" Patrick smirked at that.

Keen was seething. "Stop calling me that. I'm fed up with it. Fed up with you." He rolled his eyes. "My Patrick this and my Patrick that, all the time. You're practically the only thing he talks about these days. I can't stand it anymore. Why the hell does he love you so much?" he asked.

"Love me? Come on. That's absurd." Patrick answered.

"No, it's the truth. He loves you. Not like the primitive fling you have with your cop whore here. No, his love for you transcends ordinary human categories," Red John's disciple explained earnestly, sounding like he was reciting his master's words.

Jane shook his head and chuckled. "Gosh, Little John. You are one messed up puppy. You really believe that bullshit? I can assure you, I'm certainly not keen on – sorry for the pun – his supernatural kind of affection. I'm really sorry he doesn't concentrate his feelings of fondness on people who'd actually appreciate his sick advances - people like you."

"You are a moron, Jane. You should be honored, a great man like him has taken an interest in you." Keen looked at him with envy. "He would be willing to share his empire with you. He'd lead you to real greatness, reform you, develop your potential. If you have as much of that as he claims you have. I would give anything to have that. You just threw it in his face in Vegas. And still he loves you." He lowered his head, his dismay obvious.

"You know what, Little John? Most people would be elated to know they are not the object of some sick affection from some deranged, psychopathic serial killer, and I would certainly count myself among them, though unfortunately I don't have that luxury." He sighed heavily. "I'd say there's something seriously wrong with your perception of the world, Mr. Keen. You might want to meditate on that for a while." And with an evil grin he added, "Or you might want to talk it over with your boss at some point. Tell him you feel neglected. I'm sure some fun with one of his knives would make you feel a whole lot better about yourself."

"He's your boss, too, Patrick. And her's as well." He indicated Lisbon. "You shouldn't forget that," their suspect answered.

"I think not, Little John. I'm my own man, and though my life's certainly been influenced by his actions, he's definitely not my boss," Jane answered with absolute conviction.

Keen grinned in his face at that. "That just shows how little you know, Patrick," he taunted.

"Oh, I know enough to be sure of that. Lisbon? This is getting rather boring again. I'm out of here. I really hope we'll get another case soon. He's not a challenge of the same mold I'm used to. The CBI's not paying me for this kind of trifle," Patrick said in a blasé tone.

"Well, Jane, that's part of your job description as well, I'm afraid," Lisbon answered playing along with him, rolling her eyes at his arrogance.

Their suspect laughed evilly at that and said, "She's right, you know, Patrick?"

Jane just got up from his chair, shrugged and moved to the door. "Too bad. In that case: maybe we'll meet again, Little John. Not if I can avoid it, but hey, if it's in the job description…"


He'd left then and Lisbon had followed him out. They'd reconvened in her office and agreed that they'd certainly made some headway. This was one malcontent disciple and his obvious jealousy was the perfect angle from which to crack him even more.

"But this whole love-nonsense is rather creepy. Didn't I tell you that note he left with Alex's body sounded eerily like a love letter?" Patrick had added with a disgusted shudder.

"Oh, but it's a higher kind of love that transcends what we have, Patrick," she'd teased him.

The door and the blinds in her office had been closed, so he'd dared to embrace her and had whispered seductively in her ear, "I'm not sure I would survive something even higher, my dear. This is already nearly transcending my imagination as it is."

They'd shared a short but passionate kiss and gone back to work afterwards with promises of later things to come.

After that, Keen hadn't so much as uttered one word during Patrick's interrogations other than asking for tea.


TBC

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