A/N1: I'm back with a new chapter and to make up for the longer than usual gap between postings it's a slightly longer one. No real warnings, though it's a bit angsty.


A/N2: I want to thank my faithful and fantastic beta "firstdown" once again for her excellent editing, her useful and encouraging comments and her helpful suggestions!


Teresa decided to try and talk about the whole contract situation with Patrick that evening. She felt like an indirect approach would be the best way. She thought she'd play him a bit, even if that was a tad dangerous, because you had to be extra careful when you wanted to outwit a master at his own game. But she didn't mean to outright manipulate him, just to ease into the topic, hopefully.

So when they came home from work after a not too constructive day – they were still waiting for the lab results and Keen still kept as silent as a post – Patrick went to the kitchen to fix them some dinner and Teresa accompanied him. She sat down on one of the barstools behind the counter and out of his way, because experience had shown, that she had a real talent for always standing exactly where it would most disturb his efficient work. He put a mug of tea in front of her soon enough – unsurprisingly tea was always the first thing he made when they came home and she had already gotten used to their little after-work routine.

A few sips later when she deemed both herself and him relaxed enough, she decided to broach the subject. "Patrick? We need to talk about money," she started.

He looked up from cutting vegetables and raised his brows. "Haven't we spoken about money more than enough during the last two weeks?" he inquired.

"I didn't mean it like that. I was thinking in more practical terms. Like now that you're living here on a permanent basis, we should talk about sharing the costs," she explained.

In all honesty she couldn't care less about him paying rent. He had paid for all their food ever since he moved in and he was certainly not stingy and only bought the best. And her income was generous enough to allow her to cover the monthly installment for her condo. But she wanted to force him to admit that HE didn't have the means. Or rather, that he had them from a source outside of his actual employment.

Not entirely unsurprisingly, his face didn't reveal anything about what he was thinking and neither did his voice. "That sounds reasonable. I'm sorry I didn't offer to do so myself. How much do you have in mind? I have no idea what lease costs are these days," he said nonchalantly.

She silently cursed him. This wouldn't be an easy task. What should she do now? Ask about an outrageous sum to make him buckle? Then she had a sudden flash of inspiration. She got up and disappeared for a moment, returning armed with some sheets of paper and a pen. "Let's see," she mumbled, starting to write down numbers. It was always good to make him curious. And he took the bait as hoped.

"What are you doing?" he asked, looking up from his food preparations again.

"Ah, just re-adjusting my monthly budget," she answered. "I do that once in a while. You know, taking a good look at my expenses and my revenue. Check how things work out financially. I also have some additional retirement arrangement. I'll get the benefit from the State of course, as an officer, but it's always good to have an extra plan." she explained.

He nodded, still not letting any obvious discomfort show, though she thought she could spot a slight hesitation. So she decided to continue, pointing at the numbers on the sheet, "This is my monthly income after taxes, about $3500. I'm paying off my condo, which is the biggest expense, $1500, Annie is my goddaughter so I've been putting away a monthly deposit of $100 for her ever since she was born. Food is about $300 a month. Other expenses for off-time stuff like yoga about $300 as well. Then there's all the other things like insurances and additional costs of living, all in all $ 400. And another $500 goes to my retirement provision. Which leaves me with a bit of spare money every month. Which incidentally will increase now that you'll take over part of the costs for housing." She grinned happily. "Not too bad to have a roomie I guess, come to think of it. Financially speaking, that is." She winked at him.

"No other benefits then?" he inquired, maybe a tiny bit afflicted, or so she hoped.

"Well, the food's good, too," she teased him. He was a slightly affected, she was sure of it, but he hadn't given her much so far. She probably had to up the ante. "Now, about your rent. Considering that I provide all the furniture and other appliances, I think it would be fair if you paid a bit more than half. How about $800? And we should probably have some kind of household budget. You know, pool the resources so to speak. With your exclusive tastes I'd say $400 each should do nicely. We can adjust it when we know for sure how much we actually use. Sounds alright with you?"

She had to admit to herself, that this was a bit cruel. She'd just asked him for all he got from the CBI – before taxes. And she'd actually seen him flinch slightly at the numbers. But he still kept his façade carefully.

"Yes, no problem, " he replied, appearing totally callous again.

Damn him! Why couldn't he just acknowledge that her request was over the top and completely unfair? Because even though it was true that they were using all her furniture, he would be the one to pay more than half of the installment that made HER the single owner of the place one day in the not all too distant future.

"Are you sure, Patrick? Don't you want to take a moment and go over your own finances first?" she inquired carefully. "I mean, I would like to be sure you can afford that and that I'll get my money," she added, cursing herself in her head for being such a bitch.

"You think I'm not good for it?" he asked a bit miffed, cooking completely forgotten at the moment. "That I would double-cross you and live at your expense?" He looked at her with sad eyes. "How could you even think something like that about me? Because I'm a conman? Really, I would never…"

She interrupted him. "Of course not, Patrick. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way." She cursed herself again. Now she'd really gone too far and hurt him. She had known this would be sensitive subject. "It's just, I honestly don't know anything about your financial situation. Well, apart from the house in Malibu and those vintage cars you still own. Do you have a lot of money left from your old days?" she asked with caution.

"Ah, I see. You don't want my dirty money. Is that it?" he retorted, obviously still upset.

"Stop assuming things, Patrick. I just know that you can't possibly get by with your regular income," she replied a bit huffy as well now. It took her a second to realize that she'd actually made a blunder. She hadn't meant to mention that last part just yet and certainly not like this.

He'd reined in his features completely, wearing one of those masks she hated so much. "Ah. We're finally getting to the real matter at hand I guess. Well Lisbon, it's actually none of your business. I'm good for the money you want. That's all you need to know. In fact, it's all you're entitled to know. Let's leave it at that," he told her coldly.

Now she was both indignant and angry. "I'm your boss and your lover. Of course I'm entitled to know more about your finances, Jane."

"You didn't care before, and you don't need to do so now. Butt out, Lisbon, or you might not like the consequences," he warned her, voice still devoid of emotion.

Her eyes were as round as saucers by now and she'd jumped up from her chair. "Are you threatening me, Jane? Are YOU trying to intimidate ME? That's outrageous." Her expression turned furious. "And I warn you not to speak to me like that ever again. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Jane?" Her glare made him take a step backwards, even though there already was a counter between them. But a Lisbon in that mood was explosive and should be handled with the outmost care.

When she realized she'd gotten to him, she relaxed her stance and added in a friendlier tone, "I do care, always have. I was just negligent for once. But I've looked into things and I certainly won't shut up about it, now that I'm actually aware of the situation."

"There is no situation, Teresa, " he said quietly. "Please, just let it go, okay?" His eyes were pleading with her, though the rest of his face had remained carefully guarded.

She came around the counter, making him retreat further. She had to smile at that. He still was her little wimp. Slowly she approached him, and since his back was already in contact with the cupboard behind him, he didn't have any room to escape her. She raised her arm and was shocked when he actually flinched. She didn't like that at all.

"I'm not gonna hit you, Patrick," she said sadly, aborting the gesture she'd intended, namely caressing his cheek. She put her arms around his waist instead, pulling him into her until her head rested against his heart. The tension left his body with a deep sigh and he returned the hug. "I'm sorry, Patrick. This conversation wasn't meant to turn out like this. I know that money is a sensitive subject for you and all I wanted was to ease you into it." She pulled him even closer. "Guess, it didn't work," she mumbled into his chest.

"Let's leave this at least until after dinner, shall we?" he asked softly a while later, and she nodded against his chest. She inhaled his scent, this unique mixture of his shower gel, cologne, and, the best part in her opinion, his genuine Patrick Jane flavor. She'd always loved that, even before they'd become involved. His scent had meant that he was close enough so she could keep an eye on him, and it had meant comfort because he'd slowly turned into her best friend and biggest source of solace over the years. Now it meant a whole range of other things as well, all of which were good in her book.

Her arms came up from around his waist and circled his neck instead, so she could pull him down into a kiss. If she loved his scent, she definitely loved the taste of him. He returned her kiss, though she could sense a slight reluctance, and he was also the one to break it again – much too soon in her opinion.

"I should probably continue with the cooking. Earn my keep, so to speak," he said, only half-joking.

She glared at him once more. "Stop that, Patrick. I want you here with me and I wouldn't care if you were the worst cook in the world. I appreciate that you like to cook, because I'm not overly fond of doing it myself, but that's most certainly not the reason I like to have you around. You do know that, don't you?"

He shrugged his shoulders and turned away from her and back to his preparations. Sometimes she really felt like throttling him. She left the kitchen and retired to the living room to calm down, maybe watch some TV, so she wouldn't say or do anything else she might regret afterwards.


Half an hour later she was relaxed again and had realized just how royally she had screwed up that particular conversation. She couldn't exactly blame him for his reactions. Instead of playing him a bit and keeping things light, she'd put him on the defense right from the start – not a clever move, considering she had originally wanted to show him, that he was worth a lot more than that horrid contract indicated.

What she'd conveyed instead was that she got substantially more money than him and that she wanted to profit from him being here with her. No actually, that he had to pay - both with money and rendition of services - to have the right to be here with her. It was so incredibly far off from what she'd really wanted to impart, that it would have been comical if it weren't so sad.

Patrick called her from the kitchen informing her that dinner was ready. Mostly they ate their evening meals right there for convenience, only when he'd gone all out and prepared something special did they bother to use her – no, she corrected herself – their dining table. She went to join him, the smell from the food delicious as ever. He'd made au gratin potatoes and a salad, and he'd already laid the table, or rather counter in this case, which was normally her task. She desperately hoped this wasn't a sign he thought he had to serve her now. He already did more than his fair share of chores, truth be told, and after their earlier conversation she was afraid he might assume it still wasn't enough to be wanted here. "Thank you, Patrick. It smells wonderful."

He cast her a tentative smile, but kept his silence. They both sat down and dug in. He seemed to be deep in thought and she sensed and honored his obvious need for peace and quiet. When they were both finished eating he started to clear their dishes wordlessly, but she intercepted him. "Here, let me do that. You already did all the cooking."

"It's no big deal, Teresa," he replied neutrally and continued with his work. "Why don't you just go back to the living room and relax?" he offered. "I can make some coffee for you if you want."

She shook her head at his stubbornness. "No, Jane. You got the cart before the horse, I'm afraid. You go and rest on the couch now. I will clean the kitchen and make some tea for you. Got that?"

He held his hands up in a pacifying gesture. "Okay, whatever you want, Agent Lisbon. You're the boss. Got it." He turned to leave the kitchen.

She grabbed his arm and stopped him. "Patrick, please. Don't be like this. I'm sorry. I know I said some pretty stupid things earlier. Things I certainly didn't mean the way they came out. I'll explain, I promise." He gazed at her, neutral mask still firmly in place. She looked at him pleadingly. "Soon, okay? When I'm finished here and we're both calm and resting on the sofa – together. But please stop shutting me out like this."

He nodded and she could see some warmth in his eyes again, though his face still didn't give away much. "I'll be waiting for you in the living room then." He faltered a little, "I bought some ice cream, if you like…"

She released his arm, pecked him on the cheek and said with a small smile, "Alright. I'll bring some of that as well."


Patrick sat on the sofa solving Sudoku puzzles when she came in with tea, coffee, and ice cream on a tray. He looked up from his booklet and put it away as she approached. "Need a hand?" he offered.

"No, thank you. Everything's under control," she answered with a warm smile. She sat down her burden, handed him both a mug and a giant bowl with ice cream and two spoons in it, making it clear, she intended to share it with him. He took a sip of his tea and put both the beverage and their treat down on the coffee table, when he noticed her hovering uncertainly by his side without actually taking a seat. "I… This is a bit awkward," she murmured.

"Can't have that, can we?" he said carefully. He leaned back on the couch and patted his lap. "Come, sit with me, Teresa."

She cast him a thankful but uneasy look and lowered herself haltingly on his lap. He pulled her legs up, so she was sitting crosswise, her feet on the sofa beside his thigh. One of his arms came around her waist and he rested his hand on her thigh, stroking it lightly. She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder for a moment. "Comfy?" he asked with a grin.

She nodded and pressed a kiss to his neck. "So you aren't mad anymore?" she inquired with caution.

"I wasn't mad, love. Just very, very confused, to be honest. But I'll get really mad if you don't grab that ice cream bowl immediately. I would do it myself, but I'm – shall we say – otherwise occupied right now…" he answered teasingly.

Teresa shifted her head so she could press a kiss to one side of his grinning mouth, sporting a relieved smile herself. Then she bent to the side and retrieved their dessert. Patrick blatantly ignored the spoon she tried to hand him. She eyed him warily. "I thought you wanted ice cream?"

"It'll taste much better from your spoon," he stated as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

"Oh really?" She raised her brows, looking rather skeptical. She dug the spoon into their treat and filled it with a generous portion.

"Yep, " he confirmed. "It's a proven fact." And as if to emphasize the truth in his statement he promptly stole the first spoonful from right outside of her open mouth.

She growled and glared dangerously, reminding him that it was never a good idea to get between Teresa Lisbon and ice cream. And so as a peace offering, he kissed her, sharing the ice cream in his mouth with her. She moaned with obvious pleasure, and they continued to devour both the dessert and each other that way until the bowl was empty. "Best ice cream ever," she sighed afterwards and he couldn't agree more.


They sat a while in silence, her head nestled up in the crook between his throat and shoulder, her lips nuzzling the exposed skin there. "You promised me an explanation, Teresa," he finally said with a sigh, reluctant to break the peace.

"Yeah, you're right," she mumbled against his throat.

He started to play with her hair in a comforting manner. "Why are you so hesitant? I'm not gonna bite - well, at least not unless you want me to." He tried to ease the mood.

"I'm very comfy right now, and I won't be anymore then," she mumbled against his skin again.

"You know, you just have to turn your head a tiny bit so your words won't be quite as blurred. Other than that you can stay right where you are." He started to massage her scalp gently.

"You might not want me to after my explanation." She turned her head and looked up at him with unhappy eyes.

"Nonsense, Teresa. I'm rather sure I've figured out most of it already anyway and you're still sitting here on my lap. So no worries, okay? Just talk. I want to know we're on the same page." His hand continued the tender ministrations to her head.

Her eyes widened. "What do you mean, you've figured it out?" He raised his brows and grinned. "Ah, never mind, of course you have, oh great psychic one."

"No such thing as psychics, Lisbon." He played along, trying to keep the conversation light and open. "Now fess up, woman."

"Why don't you tell me? You said you already know anyway, so…" she replied a bit sullen.

He sighed. "Is it really that hard to talk about for you?" She nodded. "Fine. Feel free to interrupt and correct me, should I err. Not very likely, but who knows…" He said with a smirk.

"Cocky bastard," she murmured.

"Nah, just an excellent observer, my dear. Well, okay. You read my contract last night and you're not happy with the content, " he started.

"It's outrageous!" she interjected, anger visible on her whole face.

"As I said, you are not happy with the content. And you think it shows that I don't value my work and myself enough because I let myself be treated like that. Am I right so far?" he inquired.

She nodded.

He looked satisfied with himself. "Now we're getting to the slightly confusing part. Because instead of confronting me with your concerns you started an absurd conversation about money, which doesn't fit in with the rest. One which indicates you're not content with our current living situation and…"

She interrupted him vehemently at that point. "No! You've got it all wrong."

"Oh, really? I think I fully understand it. It was very remiss of me not to offer you any rent. I'm sorry I didn't hit on it myself. I didn't mean to take advantage of you like that," he admitted shamefully.

"No, Patrick, it's not like that. I invited you into my home and there were no strings attached to that offer. In fact I neither want nor need any money from you. You've been buying all our food, that's more than enough in my book," she hurried to object.

He snorted. "Come on, Lisbon. Don't insult me like that. I'm an adult. I'm perfectly capable of providing for myself. I don't want or need any charity. I want to be on equal footing with you and I won't let money issues stand between us."

"They won't. It's just that right now you certainly don't have the means and…" she tried to explain.

"Stop right there, Teresa. You don't know anything about my financial situation, okay? I get by obviously, don't I? There's no reason for you to suddenly doubt that. I've been doing alright. I WILL be paying my fair share from now on. I won't back down on that one," he answered with determination.

"But… But that contract, Patrick. You only get what? Maybe a thousand after taxes? That's not enough to get by. It's a scandal, really. I can't live with that. You have a job, an important one. You're a top-notch investigator and the CBI should be grateful to have you. That outrageous piece of crap they call a contract doesn't reflect that at all and…" she ranted indignantly, until he interrupted her.

"Please don't concern yourself with my contract, Teresa. It's fine. Don't worry about it, okay?" he tried to pacify her.

She shook her head in defiance. "No. I can't let this go, Jane. It's just not right. And I can't believe that Minelli or Hightower would be part of such a farce. I have half a mind to visit Virgil and punch his nose for this and…"

Patrick stroked her back in an attempt to calm her down and detain her rant, "They didn't. Please cool down, love. My contract wasn't always like this. Please relax, okay?"

She looked at him in astonishment. "It wasn't always like this?" she repeated. "But what changed and why and when?"

He tsked. "So many questions… I… It's only been like this since after the whole Timothy Carter incident. And it's okay. Please just forget about it. I should've never mentioned that damn contract to you, but I thought you already… anyway. It's fine, okay?" He tried to wave the whole matter aside.

"So this is Bertram's work? Should have known," she huffed. "Still, I don't get it. I mean, I would have kind of understood it, if the CBI had decided not to reinstate you at all, all things considered. But why would they employ you under these conditions? It doesn't make sense. And I won't accept it. Never!"

Patrick sighed. "You really have to let it go Lisbon, please. Just forget you ever saw it. Believe me, it's better that way," he pleaded with her.

"No! I won't, no matter what you say. And frankly, I don't understand why you let Bertram treat you that way. You're not usually one to cower to him. More the opposite, actually," she answered, chin raised, stubborn expression firmly in place.

He took a deep breath and sighed again. Then he closed his eyes and looked completely defeated. "I did it for you," he finally mumbled, barely audible.

"What?!" she asked. "I'm not sure I heard you right. What did you just say?"

"I said, I did it for you, Teresa," he repeated a bit louder this time, but he avoided looking at her.

She sat on his lap with an open mouth. Surely she couldn't have heard right. Composing herself again, she inquired quietly, "What do you mean, Patrick? And please look at me."

He did as told and raised his eyes. "I thought you knew. I mean, I thought you'd seen my old contract and my new one as well. So I figured, you already knew," he said with a subdued voice.

"Knew what, Patrick? Please explain because right now I honestly don't get it," she said, caressing his cheek.

"It was the price Bertram asked for, you know. To reinstate you," he replied sheepishly. "And I'm willing to pay it, so please just let it go, okay? I nearly cost you your job – many times in fact – and this is the least I could do. I know how important it is for you and I couldn't let Bertram turn you into the scapegoat for my idiocy. And I thought you knew it anyway." He lowered his eyes again.

Teresa was speechless, completely and utterly speechless, which was a very alien feeling for her. Patrick had done this for her? Two years ago? And he'd assumed she'd figured it out and accepted this ridiculous gesture from him without any protest? That she had stood for the exploitation of one of her team, of her family, in exchange for her job? How could he think something like this?

On the other hand, why shouldn't he? He couldn't have possibly known that she'd never even taken a look at his contract, either before or after the Carter affair. And she remembered that Bertram had sent her the document FYI. She'd just not paid it any attention. But Jane couldn't possibly have known that because it was admittedly totally contrary to her usual way of operating. So the only logical conclusion to draw for him was in fact the one he had drawn, namely that her reinstatement was more important to her than fair working conditions for her consultant.

Consequently, she'd been right in a way, that him accepting this contract showed his lack of self-esteem once more, just not in the way she'd thought. It was worse actually. The blame lay with HER. She'd made him believe he wasn't worth more to her.

Silent tears of sadness and frustration ran down her cheeks. How must their earlier conversation have sounded to him? Her asking for all that money from him and telling him how much she got for her work for the CBI? Like she was taunting him? Rubbing it in?

The only comforting thing right now was the fact that he knew and had known for a few days that she actually didn't have any prior knowledge of this whole mess.


TBC

As usual: I appreciate all and every bit of feedback, no matter how short or long, positive or negative.