Hi everyone! I've written this fic a very long while ago (around season 2 I think) and I thought I had lost it. Fortunately, I found it back on one of my old plugs, so here goes :)

The fic is written and done, so I will update regularly (every 2 days or so).

Thanks to Chibi for beta-ing this back in the time ^^

Warning: AU all the way...Enjoy!

The Agent and the Host

1.

At first glance, you would never know the sober building was hiding beneath its walls. But as soon as the door opened, bright colours and elegant decoration greeted the visitor, along with the title 'Red Host Club' over the second entrance. Teresa Lisbon glanced at the snobbish paintings and statues on the side while she walked pass them. This looked more like a museum entrance than a club, but then she didn't step in these particular establishments every day.

At the end of a short entrance hall, a young woman was standing behind a desk. Lisbon took another deep breath and headed towards the reception. The employee had blond –almost white- hair and was dressed in a sexy scarlet shinny top, wearing a badge on which was written the name 'Betty'. As soon as she spotted her, the young woman flashed such a large bright white smile Lisbon was tempted to back off while she still could and pretend she never crossed the threshold.

"Good afternoon ma'am." Too late "Can I help you?"

"Hi," she replied uncomfortably. Oh come on Teresa she scolded herself, it's not like you haven't done undercover before. Stop sounding you're going to faint. "I…I actually…to be honest it's the first time I…" she added nervously. "I heard a friend talking…and I wanted to try."

Betty smiled understandingly. Lisbon figured she mustn't have been the first one to be so perplexed by the functioning of these businesses; a place to be courted by young men with no physical intercourse afterwards, just plain romance. Even if she was single for the moment, Lisbon knew she would never set a foot in these establishments willingly. Their public must be in really, really desperate lack of romance.

"Of course. A lot of people don't really know what to expect when they come here unknowingly. I will just ask you an ID and fill this form," she added, handing her a piece of paper. "The membership card is 150 USD and if you take it right away, you have a cut of fifteen percent every time you come around. Otherwise the entrance costs 250 USD. After that, we have different offers depending on the frequency of your visits."

Lisbon nodded numbly and did what she was asked to, settling on a comfy red couch near a table. Thankfully she wasn't using her own credit card or money to pay the membership; or she would have pulled a face at the price. She had never been part of a club whatsoever since her teenage years and the only card claiming she belonged to some group was her badge officer. Despite her lack of experience with associations and stuff, she didn't need to register in one to figure this was a bit expensive. But then, the Red Host Club was, according to rumours, a first class service. Returning her concentration on her form, she had a hard time restraining a blush on her cheeks when she saw the question 'host preference: man, woman'. She was so taking the man…

"Here," Lisbon said, handing back the filled papers with an ID. Betty checked something on her computer, collected the money and gave her a black and red membership card.

"I just need a signature here please…now if you allow me, I will call a host for you" she took the phone in her hand and dialled a number: "Betty here! Is Will free right now? Yes, a new customer. So is he…oh really?" a frown appeared on her face. "That's weird. All right then…of course, no problem. Thank you sweetie." She hung up and smiled again at the woman: "Someone will soon be there; could you please wait a few moments?"

Lisbon forced a smile and sat back on the couch, wishing this was already over.

Flashback

"Agent Lisbon, we have a new case."

The brunette stood up as her boss, a black lady named Madeline Hightower, entered with a file in her hands. She had that expression - she so often read on her former boss's face- meaning this was not going to be a piece of cake. Great, she thought inwardly. She hadn't been transferred for more than three days and already a big case on their hand. But then, this was the job and she hadn't been promoted senior agent for nothing.

"A man in his early thirties had been found early this morning, lying in a backstreet of a supermarket," Hightower blurted immediately, letting the file fall open on the senior agent's desk. "Paul Fricke, a former employee in a well-known Private Club in town. The case was given to Agent Hayce but we need your participation."

"How can I help?" she asked, wondering what she could do. After all, she heard Hayce had a reasonable rate of arrests and certainly did not need her for his investigations. The man was a bit of a sexist and –for what she understood the first time she met him- a bit pissed she, a female, had gained her title much earlier than he did.

"We need an agent undercover to infiltrate the Host Club as a new member and interrogate some staff discreetly. You are new around; so not exactly well-known in the neighbourhood. I read in your file you performed a few…a problem, Agent Lisbon?"

The brunette woman realised then she had been frowning and replied as coolly as she could:

"This is a murder investigation. Why should we go undercover in a Club of all places for interviews?"

Hightower sighed and pointed the portrait of a woman cut from a piece of newspaper. Because of the black and white format, she couldn't get the colour of her hair or eyes; but according to her thin frame and features, despite the dark eye-patch covering her left eye, she knew without a doubt she must be a stunning woman.

"Meet Rouge Johnson, the owner of the Red Host Club, Paul Fricke's previous boss. She is suspected of various crimes, going to prostitution to drug dealing and murder; but we never managed to get a grip on her; always slipped between our fingers because of her contacts. She has a long arm and friends in politics Lisbon; and we cannot allow ourselves to show we are officially investigating on her. You will be given a fake ID and credit card. If you don't think you can make it, say it right now."

Lisbon glanced again at the picture of the victim. The man was lying on his back, eyes half-opened and red cuts over his face. The pained expression betrayed the fact he had been likely tortured before being given the last strike. She frowned in wonder. There was something familiar about the position of the corpse and its apparent wounds, but she brushed the thought away. Hightower was still staring at her when she raised her head and put the picture back in place.

"I'm on it."

Flashback

Her thoughts were cut when she felt someone stopping next to her. She raised her head and…her eyes crossed the most stunning blue gaze she had ever seen. Blond curls were falling around a charming face in a mess, like he hadn't arranged his hair for days; contrasting a little with the impeccable three piece suit he was wearing –red vest, white shirt and grey pants. For some reason, she thought the outfit suited the newcomer.

"Good afternoon Miss," he greeted her with a fascinating smile: "My name is Patrick and I will be your Host for the first time. May I have you name?"

Too focused on memorizing the stunning appearance, Lisbon nearly missed his question.

"Uh…Te –Sarah," she replied, almost forgetting about her fake name; "Sarah Jenkins." Her hesitation seemed to go unnoticed as the man nodded solemnly.

"Welcome to the Red Host Club, Miss Sarah," he said with a flashing grin. For a few seconds, Lisbon wondered if he used any ultra white-Colgate for his teeth; she had never met someone with such an immaculate smile. "Would you follow me to the living room or somewhere more private?"

"Private," Lisbon managed to utter without making too much a fool of herself, and added to justify her answer: "I'm…I'm not at ease if…"

Why did he have to be so distracting without even trying? Good-looking people like him should be forbidden, she thought bitterly. Her impulsive response seemed to amuse her host though, and she suddenly felt the urge to slap that Cheshire smile off his face.

"I understand. Please follow me."

He lead her gentlemanly through a bunch of elegant corridors, went up a stair, crossing another host surrounded with two clients –horrendously rich she supposed, according to their clothing and make-up- and stopped in front of a simple door. Patrick unlocked it, pushed it open and invited her to enter first.

The door opened on a small, cosy room. Warm green walls and soft lights invited to a clear intimacy and calm atmosphere. Lisbon found it nicely decorated and adequate to her actual mood. Slightly relaxing, even.

"I figured you had a tiring week, and you needed some quiet and soothing colours. Does the atmosphere suits you?"

She had a hard time suppressing the need to roll her eyes –what a show off!- and instead nodded slowly.

"Why don't you take a seat?" he offered charmingly, turning his back to her to head towards the small bar. "I am positive you will enjoy our lemonade; it's homemade by Ludo, our chef, and you won't find better in the city."

Okay, Lisbon thought. This was enough for playtime. They were isolated, hopefully with no bugs hidden, and he looked like he would be cooperative.

"Patrick," she started, turning into her 'agent' mode "I am not…"

"Take a seat" he repeated more firmly, without looking at her, filling a glass of lemonade. The shift from sweetness to slightly authoritarian unsettled her. "And don't worry; you can skip the whole 'revelation' part, Agent Teresa Lisbon."

When he turned back towards her, his smile had disappeared and his right hand was now holding a black shinny gun. Lisbon straightened and raised slightly her arms at the sight of the weapon. Screw the nice façade; whoever Patrick was, he busted her cover in seconds.

"I have no intention of harming you," he said dryly, eyes narrowing at her. "But I am curious. What are you doing here?"

Lisbon breathed deeply. One glance was enough to inform her that she was not facing any gullible guy. Patrick…whatever his last name, was smart. She kept her cool nevertheless. Maybe there was some hope she could patch up some broken pieces.

"I registered as a member of this club Patrick," she said coolly. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"A few agents registered in the past," he replied pleasantly. "But none of them felt the necessity of changing their names."

Lisbon managed to "blush in embarrassment" convincingly.

"Well maybe I was ashamed of trying this kind of place and made a fake ID. It's not exactly hard for me to do. And I did tell you I was uncomfortable."

Contrary to what she thought, he chuckled amusingly.

"Of course…with your body language screaming 'I want to get out of here'? And no-one asks for a private room before having met the rest of the crew, that's our number one rule that you should have noted if you had read the regulations…showing that you were indeed interested. But you were too fast and didn't want to waste time figuring if I was a safe bet or not," he snorted and shook his head: "You people make me laugh sometimes…too impatient. You managed to fool Betty, but you won't go pass me. Now," he added on a colder tone, stepping slightly closer, still aiming at her, "sit down and tell me why you are here."

The agent reluctantly settled on the couch; he was too far for her to attempt a move to disarm him and she disliked the glint in his eyes. He knew he was in control here. He knew it, and she already hated him for it. Patrick took a seat in front of her in another sofa, not letting her out of his eyesight, and waited, elbows resting on his knees.

"I'm waiting Agent Lisbon."

"What are you going to do to me anyway?" she asked as self-confidently as she could. "I am a police officer."

Patrick shrugged.

"I could bring up assault I suppose? Despite your coolness, I can see you are the hot tempered kind and the lovely agent Hightower will not have your back if you do a mistake, since you are newly transferred. So, why are you here?"

Lisbon sighed and shook her head. Well, this was not exactly the kind of interrogation she was hoping for but in the end it was about the same result.

"Do you know a man named Paul Fricke? Mid-thirties, dark hair…"

Patrick frowned and tilted his head on the side, thinking. If she wasn't under the threat of a gun and on a job, Lisbon would have indulged herself a little bit of checking-out. Not that she was into younger men, but which sane woman would deny he was very, very attractive?

"Paul Fricke…I haven't heard that name for about six months. He used to work here. Why? He has problems?"

"He was found dead this morning."

The blond man stood silent for a few moments. A series of emotions passed on his features, but too fast for her to be able to read them. The only one remaining in the end was coldness and indifference.

"I see," he simply stated. "Well I can't say I am exactly sad about this. He left the business for some woman out there. You see," he added, lowering his head, but still holding the gun. "The 'Red Host Club' is like a second house. Mr Fricke…you could say he was…the black lamb. No-one appreciates when a member walks out. But no-one kills a traitor either; we don't need that kind of publicity around. So the house's answer is 'no, we do not regret his death but we did not do it'. Now ma'am," he added, standing up without leaving her out of the weapon's aim, "I will ask you to get out of here and never come back if you don't want troubles…this is my first and last warning."

Lisbon narrowed her eyes at him, but didn't reply. She stood up in turn, picked up her handbag and left, but not before throwing a last glare at him. On her way out, she ignored the confused look of Betty and bumped in a man walking out of a room on her way out but couldn't care less. All she wanted right now was jumping into a cab, be back to her office within the hour and forget about this humiliation ASAP.

FYI: Host Clubs do exist in Japan, so I'm not inventing much. I'm not sure if they've made their way in other countries yet...

The victim Paul Fricke was a pick up artist from 1x14, Crimson Casanova.

Till next time :)