A/N 1: Originally, this was supposed to be a light, fluffy, and short one-shot devising some silly little late-night idea I had, but it developed a mind of its own. Obviously, I wasn't able to produce something totally carefree at the time I started it, namely right after watching "There Will Be Blood". Thus this fic contains heavy spoilers for that episode and part of it deals with the aftermath of it. It takes place at some point between episodes 5.16 and 5.18. I hope that it still includes some of the humor I originally had in mind for it, even though some angst has found its way into it.

A/N 2: I have no knowledge about chess apart from the basic rules and some internet research. So please don't bump me off for any mistakes or inconsistencies regarding the intricacies of this immensely complex game.

And to those out there who don't play chess at all (like me!): don't worry, this isn't really a fic about chess.

Disclaimer 1: There might be some superficial parallels between one of my characters and a famous chess player in the real world. But I want to point out that I by no means aim to portray anyone in particular and that this story doesn't intend to insult anyone, let alone reveal anything even remotely true about real living people.

Disclaimer 2: I don't own the characters from "The Mentalist", which is a real pity, but can't be helped. Hence when playing with them, I only express my deep respect for their creators.

This fic is regrettably un-betaed, because my poor beta, the great 'firstdown', is busy enough as it is, editing my extensive story "Catch A Tyger By His Tail". English is not my first language, so please forgive me my many mistakes.

Sorry for the long author note, and now finally on to the story.

Check-Mates - Part One

)o()o()o(

Tuesday, early morning - bullpen, CBI HQ, Sacramento

"Jane? Don't make any plans for the coming weekend," senior agent Lisbon told her consultant upon entering the bullpen from the direction of her office, where she'd just finished a phone call. Her face sported a somewhat mischievous expression and her eyes carried a playful glint.

"Why? You asking me out on a date, Lisbon? How exciting," the curly blond man lounging on his famous brown leather couch answered with a smirk, opening his eyes lazily, no longer pretending to be asleep.

Her expression darkened for a moment at the inappropriate insinuation, which also had the rest of her team peaking up from their work with sudden interest. But she got her features under control again very fast, not wanting to give away her discomfort at Jane's teasing remark. Stepping closer to his resting place and stopping in front of it she glared at him. "In your dreams, Jane. Why the hell would I want to settle myself with you after hours? You're too much to deal with inside the office as it is, no need to spoil my time outside of it as well."

His lips turned into a pout giving him the look of an adorable five year old he knew she couldn't resist. When he saw that his gesture had had the desired effect on her, namely softening her features into a slightly apologetic smile, he grinned at her. "Really now, Lisbon. No need to get nasty. I'm known to be very charming and entertaining. I would show you the best time, you've had in years," he declared with confidence, his eyes challenging her to object.

"Even if that was the case, and I highly doubt it is, I'm afraid I'll never find out, because we'll never go out on a date, Jane," she replied with a conviction she didn't feel. Because in all honesty, she wouldn't mind going out with him at all, and considering her nearly non-existent social life his claim wasn't even a hard one to fulfill. But that was beside the point right now. Dating her consultant was a big no-go-area for many very valid reasons, so it was better not to think of it in the first place, which just had been made this much harder by the return of that enticing pout on Jane's lips. Damn, why had the man to be so infuriatingly appealing? And this in spite of her being really angry and annoyed with him due to his insufferable conduct during the last weeks?

"Never is a long time, Lisbon. But I've gathered that it's obviously not going to happen this weekend. A pity, really." He flashed her one of his most charming smiles and had the audacity to wink at her as well. "So enlighten me, my dear. Have you turned clairvoyant now and are predicting a homicide to happen on Saturday or what other plans have you devised to interfere with my well earned weekend off?"

She snorted. "Well earned? You think pissing off people makes you deserving of a weekend off? If that's the case, it would at least explain why you've been extra obnoxious lately."

Jane sat up on the couch and shot her another smug grin. "No, that was just for the fun of it. My weekend off was earned by solving no less than three cases, single-handedly I might add, during the last ten days."

"Single-handedly?" she inquired, her brows raised in astonishment at the outrageousness of his statement. "I seem to remember Van Pelt digging up the vital information on the first case and Cho cracking the perp of the last one. And the second one might be somewhat closed, but due to your illegal interrogation techniques the killer might still walk free in the end. One would think that after almost nine years of working with the police, you'd know better. "

"Meh. Semantics. I should have known that the intricacies of human speech would be wasted on the likes of you," he announced with an air of superiority. "I said I solved them, not that I closed them. I have to leave at least some of the work to you and the lawyers, or I'd really have a hard time living with my bad conscience. How else to justify your continued employment to the poor tax payers of California?" Another arrogant smirk crossed his face.

She shook her head in disbelief. "You're such a jerk, Jane. Does your ego know no bounds?"

"I wouldn't know," he answered merrily, "because should they exist, as of yet it has still to encounter them."

He looked up at her with an impudent glint in his eyes that made her want to smack him. She decided to give in to her urge for once. She bent forward and slapped the back of his head. With a great sense of satisfaction she realized that she'd managed to surprise him with her action this time. His dumbfounded expression went a long way to make up for all the additional paperwork – and several other grievances - he'd caused her lately.

"Did you just hit me?" he asked flabbergasted.

She snickered. "If you still have to ask that, I obviously didn't use enough force." This was followed by another slap, this time to his shoulder and with quite a bit more strength behind it.

He regained his poise immediately this time and cast her a sympathetic look. "Feeling better now?" he inquired, though it sounded more like a statement of fact.

"As a matter of fact, yes, I do," she conceded with a slightly apologetic glance. "I guess, I'm more frustrated with you than I was aware of." She blushed a little, embarrassment clouding her features.

He smiled at her knowingly. "Nothing like a cathartic outburst, Lisbon. At least you spared my nose this time." He chuckled.

"Sorry," she mumbled, still somewhat ashamed at her loss of control.

"Don't be. It has been a rather stressful week for you and I have to admit that I might have been a contributing factor. Irritating you was my way of dealing with the stress, so it seems only fair that you got to hit me. But don't make a habit of it," he warned her with a fond grin.

He got up from the couch and started to walk in the direction of the break room, leaving her standing in front of his now empty resting place like a fish out of water. "Where the hell are you going, Jane?" she asked, a new wave of irritation darkening her features. "I'm not ready dealing with you."

Jane turned around and flashed her one of his mega-watt-smiles. "Somehow I think I'll need a cup of tea for the rest of our lovely talk. You've still not divulged my plans for the weekend and I must say, I'm a bit, shall we say, disconcerted about it. And you, my dear Lisbon, are in an even more dire need of a relaxing cup of tea as recent events prove."

He continued his progress to the small kitchen area and Lisbon was left standing in her spot rolling her eyes in annoyance. She decided to do the unthinkable and in an act of utter defiance she sat down on his sanctuary. The three agents on her team gasped and cast horrified glances in her direction.

"You think that's wise, Lisbon?" Rigsby asked carefully.

She looked at him and huffed. How dare they question her right to be wherever she wanted to be in this office? "Last time I checked, I was still the boss around here. I can sit wherever I want to, Agent Rigsby. It would be in your best interest not to forget that again." She glared at the tall man.

"Yes, Boss," poor Rigsby replied meekly, looking utterly sheepish after having been chastised like that.

Lisbon took in his expression and felt bad about her harsh words immediately. In a moment of sudden insight she realized that she'd been short and snippy with all of her team for weeks now. And she knew that it wasn't fair to them at all. Her frustration lay with one person, and one person only, namely her stupid, irritating, selfish, inconsiderate, obsessed consultant.

It had started after that whole Lorelei debacle. She'd been alright for a while. Had successfully pretended that she was okay with the things that had happened. But she could see now that it wasn't true. The unresolved issues between her and Jane were affecting her working relationship with the rest of the team and that was unacceptable.

She sighed. Obviously they – as in Jane and her - had to have that Talk (and in her mind it was definitely spelled with a capital T) after all. She dreaded it. Had avoided it with a vengeance (no, wrong word, she chided herself). He'd hurt her enough as it was and she knew a conversation with him about it all would most likely be even more painful. But it seemed she couldn't escape it, if she didn't want to destroy her team or do more than just slap him the next time. But she wasn't ready yet. She would at least wait until after the weekend.

He came back into the bullpen carrying two cups. He raised his brows when he saw her sitting in his favorite spot but had the decency (or sense of self preservation) not to comment on her obvious act of defiance. He walked over to her and handed her the red cup and saucer he almost always used when preparing tea for her.

She looked up at him and their eyes locked for a moment. He saw her barely concealed anger, which he knew masked a range of other emotions she wasn't quite ready to acknowledge, mostly hurt and disappointment.

She wasn't quite sure what to make of his expression. She recognized genuine warmth, but was afraid there might be some pity mixed into it somewhere, and the mere possibility made her heart grow cold.

He read the change in her eyes at once and shook his head. "No!" he insisted vehemently.

"What do you mean?" she asked, put out by the ease with which he knew how to read her every thought.

"You know, what I mean, Lisbon. And it's not true. I would never do that to you." He sat down beside her, close enough that their legs were touching. She was a bit uncomfortable at his sudden proximity, but she manage to hide her unease if not from him, at least from the rest of the team. "I think, we need to talk," he added in a low voice so it was only audible to her.

"Yes, I guess we do," she answered just as silently. "But not today and not until after the weekend." She took a sip of her tea, thus avoiding to have to look at him anymore.

"Ah yes, the mysterious weekend. Are you going to tell me about it any time soon?" he asked teasingly, trying to ease the mood. "I'm really anxious to know, what nefarious intent you have in mind for me."

She was only too happy to follow his lead and leave the heavy topics for another time. And the whole matter of the weekend was more important at the moment anyway. Well, kind of. "Jane, do you know who Harry Mascarov is?"

He looked at her with complete disbelief. "Is that supposed to be a serious question, Lisbon? Honestly, woman. Who doesn't?"

They could hear someone clearing his throat in the background. "Well, apart from Rigsby, that is," Jane added with a smirk. "Not much of a chess player, are you, Rigs?" he teased the tall agent with a pointed look in the direction the harrumph had been originating from. "So, what about Mascarov, Lisbon?" he added, refocusing on her.

"He's in the US at the moment, promoting some book he's written. Something about how politics mimic chess and vice versa, as far as I know." She turned her head to get a better look at her consultant. His expression showed that she'd sparked his interest. "He'll be in Los Angeles this weekend. And smartass that you are, you probably also already know that he used to be part of some American governmental project about security policy." He nodded his acknowledgement. "Well, turns out Bertram knows someone who knows someone who's close to him, and so the director has managed to persuade Mascarov to be part of the CBI's annual fundraiser."

"Okay, I can follow you so far. But what has this got to do with me?" Jane asked in honest puzzlement.

"You know that Mascarov's still very popular here. Not so much for his books though, because who the hell bothers with reading boring books about chess?" At his incredulous expression she continued, "Well, apart from freaks like you, Jane." He grinned merrily at that. "Anyway, people prefer seeing him play, not hearing him read from some nerdy book."

She could see his eyes widen the moment he caught on to where this was leading. "No, Lisbon. No way. Forget it."

"Well, there's no way around it anymore, Jane. The moment word got out, the members of LA's high society practically fought each other for the chance at a ticket. There'll be a party-dinner after the event as well. And they'll even broadcast it on TV. Bertram's managed to secure fifty percent of all the advertising revenue. He's on cloud nine right now. He called it the biggest coup in the history of CBI fundraising."

Jane's face had blanched more and more while she spoke and he shook his head violently. Lisbon couldn't quell a grin at his obvious discomfort and decided to finish her tea in an attempt to conceal her mirth.

"No, Lisbon. There's no way I'm doing it. And it won't be much of an event. It'll probably be over in a matter of minutes. It's a stupid idea, really, and I won't do it," he insisted stubbornly.

Rigsby, who – like the rest of the team – had followed the development of the latest drama between their boss and their consultant with keen interest, chimed in at that point. "I don't get it. What's going on? What's the big deal with this Mascara-guy anyway?"

Cho answered his partner's question with one of his typical to-the-point explanations. "He's a former world chess champion, one of the chess grandmasters. Some consider him the best chess player of all times. The Boss wants Jane to play against him. And Jane's smart enough to know that Mascarov'll wipe the floor with him."

The consultant nodded his head in agreement and took a sip of his tea before he spoke again. "See, Lisbon. Even Cho concurs with me. This is an utterly stupid idea."

"I didn't say that," Cho objected. "I wouldn't mind watching someone smashing you, Jane. I'd even pay real money for it."

"That won't be necessary. The whole team's been invited to attend," Lisbon explained merrily.

Jane had started to become frantic beside her. "Wait a moment. I haven't agreed to any of this, and I sure as hell won't. This isn't gonna happen. I don't care, if they've already sold tickets. Even I'm realistic enough to know that they've paid to see Harry, not some hapless state employee." He got up from the couch and started pacing in front of it, his tea cup still in his hand. "I'm sure, it won't be a problem to find some local chess champion who'd love to get a chance to play the grandmaster."

She watched him with amusement. Maybe his ego was finally encountering some bounds after all? The thought made her smile, and she had to admit that she took more pleasure in his unease than she probably should. And in light of Cho's statement and the matching grins on the other agents' faces, she wasn't the only one who labored with unkind feelings towards the consultant at the moment. "Sit down, Jane. You're making me nervous with all that pacing. And it's certainly not going to help your case," she informed him matter-of-factly.

Jane continued with his fretful gesture and she had to stop herself from taking pity on him. He didn't deserve her sympathy and she would stay adamant, she chastised herself in her mind. "Jane, I asked you to sit down. Do it!" she ordered.

He stopped his movement and looked at her intently. When he realized that she really meant business, he let out an annoyed sigh and followed her request. "Happy now?" he asked sarcastically from his sitting position by her side.

"Ecstatic," she replied in a similar vein. Narrowing her eyes at him and using her most commanding voice she went on, "Maybe I didn't make this clear enough, but the matter is not up for discussion. This is a fundraiser for the CBI and as such, it would be absurd to ask some random chess player. Bertram seems convinced that you're the best man for the job and I tend to agree. Even at the risk of stroking your ego unnecessarily, but I'm rather sure, you're the best chess player the CBI employs. End of discussion."

"But Lisbon," he whined. "I know, I'm a capable player, but he is a grandmaster. I haven't played a single challenging match in years. Chess is a sport. You need training to stay in shape. And with all due respect-," he cast her a mock-apologetic look, "-sharing the occasional late-night match with you, my dear, isn't exactly the kind of exercise I'm talking about."

"Arrogant bastard," she murmured angrily. "Just for this one you deserve to be crushed by Mascarov. Maybe that'll teach you to be a bit more humble. Though I doubt that anything could ever faze you enough for that to happen."

She was relatively sure, she'd seen a very short glint of honest hurt in his eyes at her words, but only a second later his face showed one of his usual masks – one of the smug ones, which he knew she hated. His tone when he started speaking again, however, was cold and assertive. "I mean it, Lisbon. I'm NOT going to do it. Especially not in front of a TV audience. You might assume otherwise, but I'm not that masochistic. I guess I understand why you would all enjoy watching my complete humiliation, but I'm not going to provide you with that pleasure."

He got up from the couch once more, took hold of his tea cup and started to walk in the direction of the exit. Lisbon, who'd realized that he was really serious, got up as well, before her consultant had the chance to retreat to his sulking spot in the attic. "Jane, stop. My office. Now!"

He turned around and faced her with an expression devoid of any emotion. She didn't like it. It made her shudder with dread. She didn't know how, but in some way his reluctance was obviously connected with Red John, because this was one of the distinct looks reserved exclusively for the serial killer.

)o()o()o(

Tuesday, still rather early in the morning – Lisbon's office, CBI HQ, Sacramento

She was glad, she'd asked him to join her in her office, because this conversation clearly required some privacy. He followed her with great reluctance. She took a seat behind her desk and motioned for him to sit down in the visitor's chair opposite her. He placed his cup on her desk and complied. The way he sat there reminded her eerily of the two conversations they'd had in this very position a few weeks ago during the latest Lorelei debacle. His head was bend and he avoided her eyes. All in all, he resembled a boy in the principal's office who's undecided whether to be contrite or defiant.

He'd looked just the same when she'd found him in Julia Howard's house in Orchid Lane, but it was first now she allowed herself to take the time to reflect on it. She'd only focused on the defiant part back then, but now she could see clearly how truly conflicted he was. And considering that he had looked exactly like that those other times as well, it stood to reason, he had also been just as ambivalent during the previous occasions.

It certainly gave her food for thought, but now she had to address the matter at hand. "Jane, look at me and tell me, how this chess match could possibly be connected with Red John."

She realized, she'd surprised him again. He flinched and raised his head in astonishment. His brows were furrowed and he examined her carefully. "You're getting good at reading me, Lisbon. Bravo," he finally said in a patronizing voice that managed to put her on edge at once.

"Can't you abstain from being a jerk even for a moment, Jane? Sometimes I really don't know why I bother with you anymore. Why can't we just have an adult conversation for once?" she huffed.

"Ah, good old Lisbon. You've never been one to accept a compliment with grace. Too modest for it," he stated with a smirk.

She took a moment to rein in her emotions. Giving in to her anger now would play exactly into his cards. She wouldn't get anywhere with him like that. He had turned the whole deflecting-awkward-questions-thing into an art form after all. When she was sure her features were somewhat back under her control, she turned pleading eyes on him. "Please, Jane. Can you cut the crap for once and talk to me? I know what you're trying to do, but it won't work today."

He watched her with apprehension. She looked and sounded tired and defeated and he didn't like it at all. "I'm sorry," he said gently. "I know, I've been a lousy partner lately. And I wouldn't even mind being trounced by a grandmaster, knowing it would help you to alleviate some of your aggravation with me. But I can't do it."

"Then tell me why, Jane! It's just for fun and it'll raise a lot of money for a good cause. And even though people pay mostly just to see Mascarov, a lot of the allure derives from the fact that he'll play one of the employees of the Bureau."

His stubborn look didn't appear to recede at all. She sighed before continuing with hesitation, because part of her next words could be considered as stroking his ego once again while the rest could open Pandora's box. "You've been the most successful fundraiser ever since you started working here, and Bertram's very adamant about this whole thing. After that whole fiasco with Homeland Security taking over the Lennon-case, he's not happy with you."

He nodded his understanding of the situation and signaled for her to continue. "Well, to be frank, Jane, your job is on the line this time. The director is very close to terminating your contract. He told me, he doesn't trust you to have the CBI's best interest at heart anymore." Jane interrupted her with a snort, which made her roll her eyes, "Yes, Jane, I've always known that you don't give a damn about the Bureau and I can live with that. But now I have reason to doubt your commitment to my team, and I can't tolerate that."

She renewed the contact between their eyes and cast him a very serious look. He answered it with a sad, but knowing expression. She held on to the connection to make it clear how sincere he should take her next words. "So I'm forced to give you another ultimatum, Jane. Either you'll participate in that chess match or you're off the team. Your choice. It's as easy as that."

This time, he didn't even try to make a joke about her poker habits. He just lowered his head and fidgeted nervously with his fingers. "I… I can't," he stammered in a broken voice only daring to cast her a very furtive glance. "Please don't make me," he added even more subdued.

She felt sorry for him, she really did, even though she still couldn't see how this whole chess thing could be connected to Red John even remotely. But she'd made up her mind. She had to reassert her authority. She couldn't let him dictate her life anymore and she had to stand up to him, before she lost every last ounce of self-respect she owned. To him, her team might appear like nothing more than a bunch of tools to be used in his quest, but she wouldn't allow him to treat them like this anymore.

They all wanted to catch the serial killer and admittedly not strictly for merely professional reasons either at this point. But she couldn't watch him compromising his own integrity – and hers by means of association – any longer. He had to make some important decisions in that respect, and if this fundraising event had to be the catalyst for it, so be it. She hated to make him choose like this and she feared the outcome of his decision even more, but enough was enough.

It would hurt like hell, should he decide he had to leave, but she had to stop burying her head in the sand and pretend the problem would disappear if she just ignored it long enough. She wasn't usually like that, but with Jane, well… She knew, she was hopelessly entangled with him.

And lately, the repressed emotions of nearly nine years of acquaintance with him seemed to be determined to leave their hiding place in the furthest recesses of her mind and break through the surface and out into the open. Which brought her thoughts back to the Talk, they needed to have soon – or not, if he decided to go against her now.

She noticed that he watched her intently, while all these thoughts flashed through her head. And she was sure that he'd been able to recognize quite a few of them on her face. This time she didn't mind it at all. He was supposed to understand that she meant business, that she wasn't willing to play push-over anymore.

And sure enough, he finally nodded his head reluctantly after a few minutes of awkward silence. "Okay. I'll do it," he conceded, albeit with an air of resignation she didn't relish as much as she might have expected she would. And she didn't like his hunched posture and deeply sad eyes either.

Still, she breathed out in obvious relief at his submission to her authority. "Jane, I'm sorry it had to come to this," she told him with honest regret. "But you've left me with no other choice. I had to make sure that your priorities are still within the realms of what is acceptable for me." She tried to lessen the harshness of her words with a warm smile. "You know, I'm willing to go very far in my support of you, but there're lines I can't cross." In a softer voice she added, "Not even for you."

With the same broken, subdued voice she'd heard him use several times during the Lorelei situation he answered, "I understand, Lisbon. Really, I do. And I'm sorry I've forced your hand like this." He lifted his head a bit, eyeing her warily while he continued, "I still don't think this is a good idea. It's only been two weeks. I really don't think I should flaunt myself in front of TV cameras at this point." He pleaded with his eyes. "You saw it, didn't you? He… I mean, she… she was placed on a stage, Lisbon." His voice broke completely when he went on, so his words were nothing more than a whisper, "He put her on a stage for me to find, to taunt me with my past."

Comprehension dawned on her. His reluctance to participate in the chess match started to make perfect sense now. "Oh, Jane," she said with compassion. "I'm so sorry, I didn't make the connection. I mean, I realized that he was sending you a message. With all the carnival equipment at the scene it was hard to miss." Her expression was really apologetic now and her voice rather sheepish. "But I didn't consider your previous experiences with TV appearances when I talked to Bertram. I'm afraid, it's too late to stop it at this point, I'm really sorry, Jane."

He nodded once again in understanding and made a visible effort to regain his poise. "Hell, who knows, he might just take pleasure from watching my public humiliation. Something you can share with him for once," he tried to joke, but his attempt fell a bit short this time and the smile he'd plastered on his face didn't even come close to reaching his eyes. He lowered his head again afterwards and took a sudden interest in his fingernails. "I guess that was in bad taste."

She shook her head in exasperation. "Jane, please stop mimicking a beaten puppy. It wasn't exactly the best joke you've ever made, but I'm not that touchy either and you know it. I'll even grant you points for effort."

He looked up again, rather tentative, but with a genuine smile this time. "Are we okay, Lisbon?"

The senior agent sighed heavily. "I wouldn't call it that, yet, Jane. But I hope we'll be. Soon."

Her consultant nodded once again, his shoulders still hunched and his posture indicating a sense of defeat. She'd never seen him that open in his body language, at least not in a candid way. Usually he used his gestures to manipulate his opponents, but right now she was convinced for the first time in a long time that she was allowed to see a glint of his unaltered mental state. And his next words confirmed this.

"For what it's worth. I'm truly sorry we're so at odds right now. And I know that it's my fault entirely." He lifted his head another smidge and looked her straight in the eyes with sincerity. "It was never my intention to hurt you, Lisbon. I want you to know that. If you can't trust me with anything else, please trust me on this one. I know that I did it anyway, but it was never meant to happen."

"I believe you, Jane. And I know we have to have a serious talk one of these days. But I'm not ready yet." Changing her voice from grave to teasing she added, "Maybe I'll be, after I've seen your ego being thoroughly trampled down on Saturday."

"Yeah, I bet, you'll enjoy that." He grinned at her. "What are the specifics anyway? I'm familiar enough with Bertram's way of thinking to know that he's not daft enough to try and sell tickets for one match that's hardly going to last for more than a few minutes."

"Firstly, it won't be an outright speed match, so if you take your time in between moves, you might be able to prolong the inevitable." She smirked at him evilly and was delighted to hear him chuckle in response to her slight. "And secondly, it will be a 'first one to three' contest, so you'll have enough time to thoroughly savior the feeling of your total defeat and humiliation."

"I appreciate your obvious concern for my well-being," he replied cheerily. "I'm certain, it'll give the people of California a comforting sense of security to see a member of the highest ranking police agency in the state being made a fool of in public. Generous donations aplenty are almost guaranteed after that. If you add the little detail of me actually being a part of the team with the highest closing rate, even Red John might be inclined to contribute out of sheer pity." He added a histrionic groan for good measure.

Lisbon couldn't stop herself from laughing out loud at that point. And it felt incredibly liberating. They both ended up grinning at each other like loons and for the first time in weeks she felt like they would really be okay.

"Don't count on my help for the rest of the week, Lisbon," he announced a moment later. "I'll be very busy. And I'll need a laptop. I have to prepare for a match. The honor of the CBI is at stake."

"And yours, I presume." She snickered once more. "Can't promise you anything apart from a computer though. It's up to the criminals whether they want to grant you some peace or not." This last part was added to make it clear to him that she expected him to contribute to the daily work again from now on and that she wouldn't allow his continued absence anymore. He'd spent too much time on his pet project and holed up in the attic as it was. She knew, he'd be able to read the double entendre from her statement with ease and he didn't disappoint her, if his sheepish expression and nod were any indication.

"Maybe we could play a match or two one evening?" he inquired hopefully.

Her eyes turned warm and she felt a sense of well-being in her body that had been absent for weeks. "Even though I'm not much of a challenge?" she retorted teasingly.

"Well, you'll have to do, I guess. Not much in the way of a live human challenge anywhere nearby. So since I'm in dire straits here, you'll have to serve as the next best thing," he teased her back.

She cast him a fake death glare. "Now I feel really appreciated, Jane. Just you wait. I'm gonna beat you one of these days."

"Hope is such a powerful and beautiful emotion, Lisbon. Don't ever give up on it, even after I've smashed you again and again and again," he mocked her.

"Arrogant jerk! I'm just glad, you'll get your comeuppance on Saturday," she retorted defiantly. "We'll see, how mighty you'll feel then."

"Ah. But then again, I don't entertain even the tiniest bit of hope, hence my disappointment won't exactly be that big. I'll try to meet my Waterloo with as much dignity as possible," he replied with an air of superiority.

This time she didn't take offense. Her mood was too good right now and she enjoyed their banter too much to be miffed by his antics. And furthermore, she knew that he wasn't quite as arrogant as he tried to make people believe. At times she was rather convinced that under all his bravado, he was actually a deeply insecure individual. But it was hard to know with him…

"We'll fly down to LA already on Friday night. There'll be all kinds of important meet and greet things going on for most of Saturday and Bertram wants us all to attend." Her face showed openly her disgust at the whole concept of this part of fundraising. She hated to make small-talk with people she didn't know and didn't even want to know.

In her daily work she mostly had to deal with VIPs only when they were dead, and she quite liked it that way. The victims' relatives tended to be bad enough, acting like they deserved special treatment. On those occasions, she was actually kind of glad she had Jane. While she always had to maintain her professional behavior and was forced to endure insults and rudeness, her consultant knew no such bounds. She often enjoyed his way of taking down self-important people a peck or two, and had a very hard time dressing him down for it afterwards. He always took it in stride, because he knew when she really meant business and when she scolded him to keep up appearances. Sometimes he brought it up and teased her with it, sometimes he just cast her a knowing look.

A lot of their communication was non-verbal. Maybe not too surprising considering her consultant's special abilities, or maybe it was, because she could read him too – at least relatively well. Though admittedly probably only when he allowed her to.

"On a positive note: We'll be treated to rooms in a really upscale hotel, the same place the whole event will take place," she added, but he could see clearly that she only considered this a very small consolation.

He grinned at her discomfort at the thought of mingling with rich suckers. It seemed he wouldn't be the only one suffering that weekend. And speaking of suffering he stated, "I won't be needing a room. I can spend the nights in Malibu."

She cast him an incredulous look and then her brows furrowed angrily. "No, you won't," she told him with finality.

"Why ever not? Just think of all the precious money it would save the CBI. Bertram might even declare me employee of the month for it," he replied merrily.

"Jane," was the only word she said in response and in a sad voice.

"Yes, Lisbon?" he challenged her with raised brows.

She pursed her lips and put a strand of hair behind her ear in an attempt to play for time before she had to come out and vocalize her thoughts. Damn the man for forcing the issue, even though she knew that he knew what she meant.

She looked at him in defiance. "Fine. Since you obviously want me to say it: I don't want you to spend time in that mausoleum."

He actually flinched at her harsh words and a shadow of pain fell over his face, but he collected himself immediately. "Ouch, Lisbon," he answered with fake cheerfulness.

But she didn't let him deter her from talking sense into him this time. "You wanted me to say it and I did. Live with it. And isn't it enough self-flagellation already that you spend your days and nights holed up in that god-awful man-cave of yours up in the attic? When was the last night you actually used a real bed to sleep in?"

"Wow, Lisbon. What do you want me to say to that?" he asked, shoulders hunched. "Maybe that I prefer couches anyway?" he added with a mirth that was so obviously forced that Lisbon didn't need to be a mentalist to see through it.

"I don't want you to say anything, Jane. Just be honest with me or at least with yourself for once," she replied carefully and with compassion.

He released a heavy breath and looked up at her with the expression he always wore when talking about his pet project. She hated it with a passion. "You know, I've been busy creating that list of possible names. I just don't have the time for mundane things. Why bother leaving for the night and waste valuable time? I hardly sleep anyway. And it's still the only tangible lead I have in the Red John case, and until Lennon regains consciousness it'll stay that way. You know that."

She sighed in resignation. "You know what, Jane? You win. I give up. I don't have the energy to have this pointless argument with you anymore. Do whatever it is you think you have to do. You won't listen anyway." With a sad look at him she added, "You obviously prefer to be miserable and alone. Who am I to stand in your way? You don't let people care for you and I'm tired of trying. I don't know, why I still maintain the illusion that you want me as your partner, when it's so obvious that you don't heed any of my advice." And in a lower tone she continued, "Sometimes I feel like I'm nothing more than a pesky mosquito to you, one that keeps interfering with your grand plan." She averted her eyes avoiding contact with him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I…"

"You keep saying that, but I don't think you really are, Jane," she interrupted him. "At least not for the right reasons."

"I've really screwed it up this time," he stated more to himself than to her, his head bent forward. But then he seemed to come to a decision. He sat up straighter and his voice was firm. "Lisbon, please look at me." With great reluctance she did as he asked. She found his expression to be unguarded and open and she was relatively sure it wasn't a mask. "You are not just a pesky nuisance to me, Teresa. Far from it. It might seem as if I dismiss your suggestions, but I take everything you say into careful consideration. I might not follow your advice very often, but it influences my decisions. Never doubt that."

He sighed. "I know, I'm a selfish bastard and that I have a tendency to place my quest for vengeance above other matters. But you…" He paused and took a deep breath. "I do value our relationship and I consider you to be me partner or rather my friend actually. I really appreciate what you're doing for me, Lisbon. I know, my behavior doesn't reflect that, but it's true nonetheless." With pleading and urgency in his eyes he added, "Please don't give up on me."

"I won't, at least not yet," she whispered. "But I'm more afraid that you've given up on yourself, Jane." She examined him sadly.

"What do you mean?" he inquired with confusion.

She locked eyes with him and spoke as urgently as she could, "You're a good man, Jane. I've always firmly believed that. But lately, you're losing yourself in this game you're playing with Red John. Look at yourself. You tried to justify torture to me a month ago! What's next? Will you be the one to actually perform it next time? When will you cross a line from where there's no turning back? Where do you draw the line anyway? I'm not sure I know you anymore. I'm not sure to trust you not to do something so unforgivable that I can't work with you any longer." Her gaze turned beseeching and her voice pleaded with him. "I don't want to lose you to that monster, Jane. I don't want you to turn into that monster."

"You think, that's gonna happen?" he asked in honest shock.

"I think it's possible, yes. You've been walking a very fine line for years and it's getting thinner and thinner," she explained truthfully.

He nodded thoughtfully. "I hear you, Lisbon," he finally said.

"I'm glad you do, Jane."

"She said practically the same thing to me," he mumbled barely audible a moment later.

Lisbon eyed him with a puzzled expression. "Who?"

"Lorelei. When we met in Orchid Lane. She said, she didn't want my help and that she had to continue on her own. That she'd done unforgivable things. That there was no turning back for her, but that she hoped that I travel on a different road," he told her hesitantly, well aware that this was a very touchy subject between them.

She followed his explanation with astonishment. Yes, it hurt her to hear him talking about that woman, but this time her amazement outweighed her other feelings. "I… she, she honestly cared about you," she stammered. "She actually cared about you!" She shook her head to clear her jumbled thoughts. "That's the real reason why she didn't tell you his name and broke her promise. Wow! I never would have guessed that." She looked at him in complete surprise.

"No. She just wanted the revenge for herself," he objected.

"I don't believe that. If she told you all those things, it means that she cared about you. And if she did, she wanted to save you from a fate like hers," Lisbon told him with conviction. "I only ever wanted to see her as the mistress of a serial killer, but there was more to her than that. I can see that now. Maybe your trust wasn't as misplaced as I originally assumed. She was still a woman and she cared for you. That's why she wanted to save you." At his disbelieving look she added quietly. "Believe me, I know the feeling."

She blushed and averted her eyes. This was getting dangerously close to the Talk, she wasn't quite ready to have with him. In an attempt to divert the conversation from this loaded issue, she decided to ask him about the details of what had transpired in Jason Lennon's house. "You never really told me what happened at Lennon's, Jane. All I know are the facts you gave Kirkland, and somehow I doubt you gave him more than the absolute basics."

His mind was still reeling from the insights that Lisbon had revealed not just about Lorelei, but about her own feelings as well. This was dangerous territory. They had to speak about all of it at some point in the near future, but Lisbon had told him repeatedly that she wasn't ready yet. Not that he was either. But he knew he had to explain himself a bit more, especially when it came to the nature of his feelings for Lorelei. Unfortunately, Lisbon's last question wouldn't exactly help deflecting the issue. Quite the contrary actually.

"I'm not sure, you really want to know, Lisbon," he finally said in a resigned voice.

She looked put out. "Why ever not? I should actually. I'm your boss after all." She took in his pained expression and finally understood what was keeping him from telling her. Something more had transpired between Lorelei and him and he didn't want to hurt her with the details.

This was not acceptable. Now that she had allowed herself to realize that the other woman had still been a human being with some left-over decency and that she actually seemed to have shared a common goal with herself, she knew she would also be able to come to terms with whatever had happened between her and Jane. It touched her a bit that her consultant wanted to spare her from further pain, but she was a big girl and didn't need his protection. Even though she wasn't ready to have that Talk yet, she sensed that it wouldn't be much longer before she would be willing to have it.

"It's alright, Jane. I'm okay with hearing it. You don't need to try and spare my feelings. And I would really like to know. I…" she paused for a moment before she continued softly, "I think it would help me to better understand everything."

He nodded. "Okay. It's your call."

And then he proceeded to tell her what had happened from the time he'd called her to the final moments between Lorelei and him. "When Lennon had revealed the truth, I asked her to tell me Red John's name. She said, I should ask Lennon, because she needed a head start and he was weak-minded anyway. She continued to pack her things and I reminded her of our agreement. She told me she wasn't keeping it and that she'd done much worse than that and turned to leave. I grabbed her arm and tried to detain her departure and…" He had to stop at this point, because he simply didn't know how to continue without hurting the woman in front of him.

She might've asked for the truth, but this would just reinforce her notion that he had feelings of a romantic nature for Lorelei. It was complicated or rather complex. He couldn't deny that he'd found her appearance appealing enough. But their one and only sexual encounter hadn't been about anything but the con. He'd known exactly who he was sleeping with and why Red John had created this little test for him. The bastard had kept a pretty close eye on him and had known that he had stayed faithful to his wife for all those years. And to convince the monster that he'd truly given up, it had been necessary to sacrifice this last connection to Angela.

So that night had been nothing but an act – in every sense of the word. He thought he'd performed adequately. It had obviously been convincing enough to satisfy both Lorelei – again, in every sense of the word – and Red John and to assure them of his seriousness. All in all, the whole matter had only been bearable for him emotionally, because he had believed the end would justify the means.

He didn't have any firsthand experience, but he imagined that the sex had been a lot like what one would have with a prostitute, and in many ways Lorelei had been exactly that. She'd been sent to him by her pimp, had done what Red John had asked her to do. Only difference: she'd actually been the one to pay money for it, namely his bail.

When she'd blatantly called him lover throughout the interrogations after her apprehension it had been nothing but a provocation, directed mainly at Lisbon. And it had confirmed his suspicions, that both Lorelei and Red John knew about his close bond with his boss. Asking for Lisbon's dead body had been a strong indicator as well, but Lorelei's attempts to drive a wedge between Lisbon and him had been the final proof.

Needless to say that he hadn't harbored any positive feelings for the mistress of his nemesis at that point. All he'd wanted was to break and turn her, and he'd had to play along with her charade of them being lovers. But since the Feds had abducted her so soon after her capture, he hadn't been granted enough time to gain her trust. In hindsight he had to admit that he might not have succeeded that way in any case, but that was a moot point now.

Anyway, this had been exactly the state of affairs at the time he'd broken her out of prison, or rather Stiles had done so for him. Their reunion had been devoid of any kind of favorable feeling on his part, and she hadn't been too happy to see him either. During the time they'd spent together something had changed though. The night they'd camped out at the beach had been the turning point for him.

She'd made sure to keep her distance from him until then, making it blatantly clear that their sexual encounter hadn't meant anything to her beyond satisfying her master. And he would've been completely alright with it if not for the little fact that he'd originally deemed their night in Vegas his only entrance ticket to her trust.

He'd been wrong and he'd realized that quickly during their drive up to the ocean. From the moment he'd changed tactics and pretended to stop manipulating her she'd come to him of her own volition, which had been a much better outcome than he'd hoped for.

First, they'd shared that meaningful moment watching the sails disappearing in the sunset. He'd recognized her longing for freedom, when she'd wondered where the boats were going. That's when he'd understood that they were both victims of the same man, had both been robbed of their liberty by the same psychopath. It had caused him to see her as more than a stepping stone to Red John.

Later, during the night when he'd sensed her petite form snuggling up to him beside the campfire in an act of tentative trust, counting on him not to exploit the situation, he'd felt the first tendrils of real sympathy and warmth for her.

Still, there hadn't been any romantic feelings involved. Seeing her taking a bath in the nude hadn't done anything for him other than confirming that she'd started to feel at least somewhat comfortable around him. He'd nearly blown it though, when he'd cold-read her during their ride afterwards. Leaving the key in the car while buying some necessary items for them had been his – successful – attempt to regain her trust.

He hadn't known about her sister at that point. But when she'd told him about her, he'd gotten at once, how Red John had managed to convert her, exploiting her moment of weakness and vulnerability. After his short talk with Lisbon on the phone learning about the cruel fate of Lorelei's sister at the hands of that monster his disgust and hatred for the serial killer had increased yet another notch if possible. How completely perverted, deprived of even the slightest spark of human decency must that bastard really be? Not that this was news to him, but the level of sheer ruthlessness still had the capacity to shock him.

And yes, his sympathy with Lorelei had also grown in light of this new information. He'd even felt some sense of tenderness and an urge to protect her, because she'd been through a trauma he himself was very much familiar with.

Not even her physical attack on him, after she'd realized he'd omitted to tell her that she'd supposedly kidnapped him, had been able to change that. And in light of what he'd watched her doing to Julia Howard and now that he knew what she would've truly been capable of, she'd merely given him a friendly slap in comparison anyway.

That she'd accused him of being just like Red John had hurt, even if it had led to that slip-up of hers that still was his best lead in the case. Becoming just like the monster he was chasing was a secret fear of his, one he'd never shared with anyone (and Lisbon had reinforced this fear with her words today). He was realistic enough to know that he was walking on a dangerous path. Being told this by someone who actually knew both him and Red John personally had deeply unsettled him.

But he hadn't allowed himself to focus on it at that moment. He'd rather zoomed in on her admission that her master was a manipulator and her obvious anger at the fact. It had showed him, that she wasn't as firmly in Red John's camp as he'd feared.

It had decided his next cause of action, namely setting her free to come to her own conclusions. Before that, she'd tested his trust as well sending him up to the cabin on his own, which could easily have been a trap. He'd followed his gut instinct at the time and relied on the dawning of doubts about her master he'd sensed in her. A kind of agreement had been forged between them afterwards, the very one she'd broken about four weeks ago.

And then she'd kissed him. He hadn't really returned it, not fully that is, and he'd broken it relatively fast. At least to him, and he was rather sure this held true for Lorelei as well, it hadn't been about any romantic feelings between them. It had only been some kind of confirmation of their connection, their bargain. Like a thin thread of mutual trust being spun between them, sealed with a kiss. It had held a promise.

Their last kiss in Lennon's house, the one he was not comfortable telling Lisbon about at the moment, hadn't been like that. Well, it did hold some similarities, but it had had a very different purpose, or better: purposes. Because he knew, it hadn't meant the same to Lorelei as it had meant to him. They'd both entered into it with a sense of desperation and they'd both known it meant goodbye. But while she'd been in a state of something like euphoria at the thought of avenging her sister's murder, he'd known that the next time he'd see her she would be dead and it would be at the scene of her murder at the hands of Red John. Though he'd still held a slight hope he might be able to prevent it, until she'd turned around and shot Lennon the moment their lips had stopped touching.

Mentalist or not, he had to admit that he hadn't seen that one coming. She'd caught him completely by surprise with it and until today he'd firmly believed that Lorelei had played him the whole time and had wanted to deprive him of his own revenge. He'd assumed that since she'd manage to throw him a curve with Lennon, she'd been able to pull the wool over his eyes the rest of the time as well. He'd thought that Lisbon had been right all along and that his involvement – though it wasn't romantic at all – with Lorelei had clouded his judgment so much, he'd been totally blinded to the reality of things.

But today, Lisbon had thrown him for another loop with her insistence that Lorelei had actually tried to save him from becoming what he feared: a callous monster with no heed for others, only hell-bent on vengeance.

That cast a whole new light on the meaning of that last kiss as well, because before it had happened, Lorelei had been about to leave and it hadn't looked like she had planned to shoot Lennon. Had the kiss caused her to act that way? Was Lisbon right? Had Lorelei really, honestly cared for him? And had their final kiss led to her resolve to save him from himself?

This had him really stumped. Had the very act that he'd assumed to be the ultimate proof of his utter foolishness for trusting the mistress of a serial killer actually been a token of the opposite?

It was first at this point that he realized he'd zoned out from his talk with Lisbon for at least ten minutes while sorting through his relationship - or whatever one wanted to call it – with Lorelei. And he might not have noticed it for a while longer, if it hadn't been for the next words coming out of his partner's mouth. "Yes, Jane, she did care for you. I'm absolutely sure of it now."

He flinched violently and it suddenly dawned on him that he'd in fact let his guard down so completely for once, that he hadn't even noticed he'd actually vocalized his thought process with Lisbon as the unintentional witness.

It was a habit of his to vocalize things while contemplating, it helped him sort things out. But usually he made damn sure he did it only in the security of his attic hide-out or another place where he couldn't be overheard.

This was not good. Completely embarrassing, no humiliating. He didn't dare looking up at Lisbon, too aghast at his loss of control. He'd practically stripped himself naked in front of his boss/partner/friend – or whatever title she'd allow him to use for her these days. He'd revealed his deepest, darkest secrets, a lot of which had a great potential of hurting her, let alone disgust her.

"You weren't supposed to hear that," he finally pressed out, still examining the flooring beneath his feet rather than her, while squirming in his chair.

She chuckled. "I know."

She was enjoying his discomfort. This had been the most enlightening fifteen minutes she had ever experienced - at least with him - and though he might think that he'd destroyed their friendship, nothing could be further from the truth: she was ecstatic!

For once she'd been granted insight into his mind, and his recount of the time he'd spent with Lorelei Martins had alleviated so many of her fears that she felt like dancing. And it hadn't just revealed to her the true nature of his feelings for that woman, no, it had first and foremost given her the chance to see HIM for once, without masks, without any subterfuge, without reservations.

And she'd liked what she'd found behind the curtain and she had to admit that she relished the fact that he'd been the one to lose control for once. And not just a little either… He'd been so deeply lost in his own world that he'd blanked out his surroundings completely.

She knew, he'd beat himself up over this. Mr. Aloof-and-Self-Control had pulled a number on himself this time. But she liked to think that what it also showed was his ease around and trust in her. She was relatively certain that this wouldn't have happened to him otherwise. He was too aware to let something like this occur under different circumstances and when it could actually hurt him.

"Why didn't you stop me? It would have been the decent thing to do," he asked with a slightly accusing tone to his voice.

"Are you mad? Why the hell would I have done that? You aren't granted insight into Patrick Jane's mind that often, you know," she replied with mirth.

He groaned. "I think, I've corrupted you, Agent Lisbon." He still didn't look up and she didn't like it.

"You sure have. But usually you don't complain about that, namely not when I support you during one of your totally illegal schemes." She changed her voice from teasing to tender, before she added, "Jane, look at me please."

He cast her a furtive glance.

"No, really, Jane. Look at me."

This time he obeyed her request and lifted his head so their eyes were level. He looked ashamed and insecure.

"Nothing you said will leave this room, Jane, you know that, don't you?" she asked carefully.

He nodded and averted his eyes again.

She sighed. "I'm very glad, you shared your thoughts with me, even though it wasn't entirely voluntarily," she said warmly.

"Not entirely voluntarily?" he asked with raised brows. "More like totally involuntarily."

"You don't believe that, do you? You, Mr. Jane? Mastermind, firm supporter of the power of the subconscious?" She raised her brows as well. "We both know that some part of you wanted me to hear all that. Don't try to deny it."

"Okay. So maybe I wanted to share my innermost secrets with you, Lisbon," he said, sarcasm dripping from every word, before he continued with a voice devoid of any discernible emotion, "I'm not all that convinced this is true, but let's assume it for a moment. Where do we go from here?"

Well, obviously he wasn't ready to admit it yet. She could live with that. Now that she had a better idea where they really stood, she was in no hurry to explore their entanglement any further and risk destroying their friendship in the process.

"Now, I'll continue with my paperwork and you'll do whatever you were doing before, probably napping. Or should you feel a bit more adventurous, you'll read one of those boring chess books. Might do you some good. And on Friday we'll go to LA, enjoy that fancy hotel, have a nice team dinner courtesy of the CBI, and on Saturday you'll wipe that grandmaster's ass at the chess board, or rather the other way around," she explained. The last part was accompanied by a devious smirk.

He snorted. "Alright. Let's just forget the last twenty minutes. Business as usual. I can live with that."

"No, Jane. I sure as hell won't pretend this didn't happen. I just think that we should let it stand as it is for the time being. And I'll certainly need a while to stomach all this new, groundbreaking information," she told him carefully, while she tried to convey the warmth she felt for him with her eyes.

He watched her intently for a long minute. She almost started to squirm under his scrutiny, but finally he seemed satisfied with what he could read from her body language. "So, are we okay now, Lisbon?" he asked tentatively afterwards.

"Yes, Jane, we're okay now. More than okay."

She smiled at him and he returned it.

"Good," he said getting up from his chair. He retrieved his empty tea cup from her desk and turned to leave her office.

When he had nearly crossed the entrance, she addressed him one last time, "Jane?"

He turned to face her with a curious expression. "Yes, Lisbon?"

"Thank you for your trust," she said sincerely, though her eyes held a very teasing glint.

"Don't mention it," he replied and the double entendre of the statement didn't escape her at all.

She shot him an understanding grin, which she found mirrored on his lips for a second, before he left - for good this time.

)o()o()o(

TBC in Check-Mates - Part Two