A/N: Welcome to the fourth installment of my AU series, set in season three. It's not totally required that you've read the other stories, but you certainly are welcome to go back and start with "Red Ryder." I'll try to catch you up a little along the way, but you newbies should know one important detail before proceeding: Jane and Lisbon are together, but keeping their love secret. This story takes place post-"Red Queen," so LaRoche is in charge now, and things are a little less predictable for our CBI team.

The results of the informal poll I took after "Royal Blood" showed a tie between my continuing this series and adding to an old episode tag I wrote for "Jolly Red Elf." So, since that poll didn't give me a definitive answer (thanks to those who voted), I chose to begin this one, since the first scene that follows popped into my head yesterday. Those who voted for JRE, don't despair. I promise to come back to that idea in the future. I still hope you like this story. I'm looking forward to continuing it.

Red Tape, Chapter 1

"You're not peaking, are you?" asked Jane, looking critically at Lisbon. He waved a hand before her blindfolded eyes, just to be sure.

"You can stop waving your hand. I swear, I can't see."

"Then how did you know I was waving my hand?" he asked suspiciously.

She sighed. "I felt the stirring of the air when you did that. Plus, that's usually what people do to test if someone is blind."

He grinned. "Very good. See, you are already utilizing your other senses. The purpose of this exercise is to hone your observational skills, to allow yourself to stretch out with your feelings."

He watched her lips twitch in amusement. "No, Obi-wan, the purpose of this exercise is for you to fulfill your weird fantasies and get your jollies at my expense."

Jane's eyes swept slowly down from his grinning lover's sensual lips to follow the lines of her beautiful, naked body, and he couldn't deny the truth of her claim. She lay on his bed, spread trustingly before him, his fantasy come to life. He took a moment to admire the view, to indulge in the wonder that was Teresa Lisbon. Her bones were small and delicate—her clavicle, the hollow at the base of her neck, her slim fingers, small feet and toes. But belying her petite frame, Lisbon was also made of lean, strong muscle, finely toned arms and thighs, her abdomen clearly defined from the two hundred crunches he watched her do every day. After five months of exploring, Jane was still not the least bit tired of just looking at her.

"Jane?" she inquired, after his extended silence. She reached out and touched his bare thigh to reassure herself that he was still there. He broke out of his reverie and suddenly became all business. He got up from the bed, and she heard him walk to his closet.

"Hang tight, Lisbon. Your instruction is about to begin."

She heard what sounded like the creaking of wicker, heard Jane drop something on the floor beside the bed. She felt the give of the mattress as he returned to sit beside her.

"What's in the basket?" she asked.

"That's right; it is a basket. Very good, Lisbon. The contents of said basket will challenge your perception as you guess the identity of each item, through every sense but sight. Now, are you ready for item number one?"

"Please, proceed," she said mimicking his scientific tone.

He smiled at their dry banter, and brought out her first test—a fluffy ostrich feather. He started by tickling her neck a little, then swept it back and forth across her breasts, encircling her navel, then sweeping down her right thigh. Jane was tremendously enjoying her little cringes, wiggles and barks of surprised laughter, for it did heavenly things to her body. He decided to end with a soft tickle on the bottoms of both feet.

"Stop!" she said breathlessly, for he knew through past experience that her feet were extremely ticklish. "It's a feather, okay? Stop!" Her giggles subsided, and she relaxed once more.

"Very good. Now, the next one is not so easy."

"No more feet tickling, Jane, or this test is over."

He sighed indulgently. "Your feet could play an important role in an investigation, Lisbon. Don't discount the value of any body part, even what seems to be the least significant."

"Well, next time I'm barefoot in a dark field of feathers, I'm sure your training will come in handy."

He tsked indulgently, then brought out item number two. It was a silk scarf, and he delighted in rubbing the smooth material over her arms and legs.

"That's not hard; it's silk. I have a robe like that."

"Well done. Item number three." It was a long-stemmed rose, fully opened. He ran it along the inside of her thighs, watching with a tightening of his groin at how the muscles there trembled in reaction. He then traced it up her side to her chest, the soft petals caressing her as he'd done with his fingers on many occasions. She smiled in pleasure.

"A rose." She caught his wrist and directed the flower to her nose, inhaling. "By the scent, I would say it is…pink."

"Impressive. I didn't realize there was enough difference in the scents of each rose color to identify them so specifically."

"Now, who's the master?" she said proudly.

He chuckled, putting the rose back and bringing forth item number four. From a fair distance he dropped small drops of sandalwood scented massage oil, making a trail from her chest, between her breasts, down her stomach, finally, filling her navel to the brim. The oil was cold, and she twitched as each small splash hit her naked torso.

"It's obviously oil," she said, and she preened happily when he couldn't resist using his hands to blend in the smooth substance, both of them enjoying the feel of her slick skin beneath his hands. Their breathing had increased a little by the time he was done, but he resisted climbing atop her and ending the game right then.

"Next," he said, and she grinned when his voice broke a little and he had to clear his throat before continuing. And so it went on, as he experimented with a scratchy pumice stone, the leather fringe of an old western vest he'd found in the back of his closet (she couldn't get him to admit where that had come from), an ice cube (that one took much longer than he'd planned), and a swatch of fake rabbit fur. Lisbon guessed them all, as Jane knew she would.

But lastly, he came to the pièce de résistance. He took a bite of the object, enjoying the sweet juice in his mouth. Without warning, he rubbed the fruit on the tip of one breast, and she gasped in shock at the coldness and the strange new texture. He moved to her other breast, circling around the areola before lightly flicking the nipple. His pulse quickened as he watched the juice turn her small, high breasts even rosier, the coldness tightening the dark pink buds. She was panting a little, squirming at the erotic sensation. He removed the small instrument of sensual torture and brought it to her slightly parted lips, tracing them with the fruit, and he trembled slightly as her tongue came out to taste.

"Oh," she exclaimed softly in delight,"a strawberry." He held it against her lips and she leaned forward slightly as he slipped it into her mouth. She took a bite, her lips pressing against his fingertips. He swallowed loudly as she chewed, then licked the residual juice off his fingers. This proved a bit too much for Jane's self-control.

"Lesson over," he growled, nearly pouncing upon her and devouring her strawberry flavored lips. He was just about to see if her breasts tasted as sweet when Lisbon's cell phone rang. They both moaned in simultaneous frustration, as he reluctantly moved off of her and she sat up, pushed up her bandanna blindfold, and reached for her phone on the bedside table.

"Lisbon," she snapped into the receiver, her arousal making her voice much gruffer than she'd intended.

"Agent Lisbon," came the soft tone of their new unit director, J.J. LaRoche. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

She rose and grabbed her bathrobe, feeling a little creepy talking to the man in the nude even though of course, he couldn't see her. Jane closed his eyes and ran his hands through his already tousled hair.

"No, sir. I'm on call, after all. Is there a new case?"

Due to California's economic problems, especially in funding state agencies, a decision had come down from Gale Betram that a week's forced vacations would be necessary to cut down on the cost of utilities, transportation and salaries. If a case arose that local police couldn't handle, members of the CBI would be called to come in.

Lisbon lived to work, but Jane encouraged her to look on the bright side. They would have an entire week off together, making love, eating home-cooked meals, watching old movies, making love…It didn't take much to persuade her. So now, on day four of their furlough, just when they were beginning to feel comfortable being together twenty-four-seven, LaRoche had to call with his own particular brand of controlling, passive-aggressive behavior.

"No, Agent, no new case, but I would like you to come in to my office as soon as you can, if it's not an imposition, of course."

She shot a disgruntled look toward Jane, who shook his head in annoyance, empathizing with her completely once he'd figured out who was on the other end of the line.

"It's something we can't discuss right now?" she asked, praying that he would save her a trip and let her get back to all the lovely possibilities the rest of Jane's bowl of strawberries presented.

"I'm afraid not," he replied in his usual dry monotone. "You see, I used everyone's absence to do a thorough spring cleaning of our offices. It seems something troubling was discovered in the attic, a location never meant to be used for workspace, by the way. And since Jane is a frequent visitor to that part of the building, it makes the discovery even more disturbing."

"What did you find?" she asked, a bad feeling unaccountably increasing her heart rate. She looked again at Jane, who was pulling on his pants in resignation. At the worried sound in her voice, he met her eyes, a fearful knot in his gut at what he saw there.

"I'd prefer we not talk about this over the phone, Agent Lisbon."

"Please, sir. I really don't like surprises. You can count on my discretion."

"Even if this involves your colleague, Patrick Jane?"

"Yes," she said, her voice nearly a whisper.

"Very well. We found an unregistered gun in the attic. And I'm afraid it has Jane's fingerprints on it."

She closed her eyes, words of denial dying on her tongue. "I'll be right in, sir."

"Thank you, Agent Lisbon. And I trust you won't discuss this with Jane."

"Of course not," she said, knowing it was a lie.

She broke the connection and stood looking at the man she loved, so beautiful as he stood before her, shirtless and vulnerable, claiming to love her, but still keeping secrets.

"Where the hell did you get a gun, Jane?"

TBC

A/N: Well, nothing like a bit of love and lies to start out a fanfic, eh? For the record, I don't want Lisbon to discover Jane's hidden weapon on the show, at least not yet, but I needed something that would challenge their new-found relationship in this fic, to test them, and see if they can come out okay on the other side. That's what this story is about. Don't worry, it won't be all angst and drama, but there definitely will be some of that, interspersed with some comic relief along the way. Thanks for reading. I encourage you to log in and let me know what you think, because that encourages me!