A/N: Hi, Donnamour1969 here! Welcome to the newest collaboration between myself and my long-time friend and occasional writing partner, waterbaby134. This fic is very loosely inspired by the Mel Gibson movie, "What Women Want" (If you haven't seen the movie, it's not necessary that you do so to get into this fic). We took the basic premise and twisted it into an AU Mentalist story, filled with humor, romance and a touch of fantasy. In this fic, you will find a Jane who is very much his fugue state personality from the "Fugue in Red" episode, but of course, it will take the love and understanding of a good woman to turn him around. In this story, there is no Red John, no murdered wife or child, so in that way too, he is the Jane from "Fugue in Red." I'm up first, then waterbaby, as we take turns, chapter by chapter. Enjoy!

What Lisbon Wants

Chapter 1

Patrick Jane awoke to the smell of coffee and the scent of warm woman. He was not pleased about either, and he rolled over in bed with a groan. His head was pounding, the bed was spinning a little, and his mouth tasted like old wool. The naked woman beside him didn't stir, not even when a second woman wearing his syrup-spattered Dolce and Gabbana dress shirt walked into his bedroom with a tray of coffee, pancakes, bacon, and an irritating "Good morning!"

It all came rushing back to him—well, most of it—and Jane lay back on his pillow, closing his eyes while the world spun on.

"I hate coffee," he muttered.

To his continued horror, Woman Number Two sat with a cheerful bounce on the bed and set the legs of the breakfast try on either side of his slim waist.

"Don't be such a grumpy pants," she baby-talked. "I made you a good breakfast. After last night, lover, you definitely deserve it."

Jane opened one eye. "Listen, uh—"

"Lorelei," she supplied, offended.

"Whatever—you and, uh—" he gestured lamely to his bed partner.

"Erica!" Jane flinched at her shrill pronouncement, and even the woman beside him finally stirred. Good, he thought. Glad she isn't dead.

"Yeah, right. I thought I told you girls last night I don't do sleepovers. And I definitely don't do pancakes." He grimaced. He would kill for a cup of tea right then, starting with these damn feminine squatters.

"But Patrick, I made these myself. From scratch."

"Congratulations."

On the bedside table, Jane's cell phone vibrated, rattling much too loudly against the lacquered wood.

He reached blindly for it, squinted at the text. It was from Teresa Lisbon.

Minelli requests the honor of your presence.

He smirked. Amazing how much sarcasm that woman could infuse into a simple text.

Jane sat up, pausing as a wave of nausea swept over him. He slowly thumbed out a reply.

Should I prepare to kiss his ring?

He'd set her up with the perfect opportunity for a racy comeback. Would she take it? He was surprised by how much he longed for her to. He watched as her cursor moved several spaces—more than enough to supply the obvious response. She paused, then backtracked, her final message much shorter than her initial instincts had led her.

Yes.

Forgetting his company, he chuckled out loud. "Someday, baby, you'll finally tell me what you really think." He was only slightly disappointed that it wouldn't be today.

He picked up the tray and absently moved it aside so he could get up, noticing dispassionately that Lorelei was still miffed with him.

"I have a client waiting. I need to take a shower. By the time I get out, I want both of you gone."

"But Patrick," she began again, but he ignored her. Erica sat up then, the sheet falling away from her bare breasts. He was no longer impressed.

Been there, done that, he thought uncharitably.

He got out of bed and padded, casually naked, across the hardwood floor toward the en suite bathroom.

"You call all your clients baby?" said Lorelei sarcastically. He didn't take the bait; somehow sarcasm on Lorelei wasn't nearly as appealing as it was on Teresa Lisbon.

"What's going on?" asked the groggy woman, sweeping long, dark bangs from her eyes.

But Jane had left the irate woman to explain his wishes to Erica and shut the door behind him. A thought occurred, and he peaked out again.

"Be sure to leave the Dolce," he ordered, nodding toward his stained shirt.

The moment he shut the door again, he heard a loud thump. A teacup, from the sound of it. He hoped absently it wasn't his mother's old Fiestaware. After that parting shot, he locked the door to the bathroom on the off chance his guests decided either to attempt murder, or more likely a fourth round in the shower. He'd spare them all the embarrassment.

"Bastard!" Lorelei called after him. He was sure she said more, but the rest of it was mercifully drowned out by the gentle spray of his custom installed rain shower.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

An hour later, Jane arrived at the Sacramento branch of the California Bureau of Investigation. He was impeccably dressed and coiffed: blue three-piece suit including gray silk tie, his cheeks closely shaven, his wild curls tamed and swept back from his forehead. He was hoping his usual flash would hide his bloodshot eyes.

With his Consultant badge he was able to pass easily through Security, smiling broadly at the woman attendant despite how it made him grimace in pain afterward. Since he still managed to[DR1] elicit a blush from her, he felt it was worth it, a reassuring indication that he could still impress, even while hung over.

"Have a good day, sir," she said breathlessly.

"You too, Merilee." He grinned again.

The poor girl nearly swooned behind him. The other officer, a man, merely rolled his eyes.

Jane stepped off the elevator to be met by junior Agent Wayne Rigsby of the Serious Crimes Unit, who reminded Jane of an overgrown puppy.

"The boss is waiting for you," he said, tagging along after Jane as they moved toward Lisbon's office.

"Pint-sized Boss, or Big Boss?"

"Pint-sized." Rigbsy barked out an embarrassed laugh. "I mean, Lisbon. They're both in Minelli's office."

Jane bypassed Lisbon's empty, glass-walled space and headed for the Special Agent in Charge. The door was slightly ajar, and Minelli waved him in from behind his big desk.

"See ya," Rigsby said, anxious to get back to the other commoners in the bullpen.

Teresa Lisbon sat in one of two uncomfortable chairs before the Big Boss's desk, slack-clad legs pressed demurely together, matching black blazer mercifully unbuttoned over her one concession to fashion—a silk shell of scarlet red. Therein lay the proof to Jane of the woman's true passionate nature. If only she would allow herself to express it.

He grinned at her, slowly and wickedly, but the woman was annoyingly immune. Or just seemed to be, he told himself. His smile widened at the thought.

"I hear you are awaiting me with barely contained excitement," he commented wryly, watching a frown bring her dark eyebrows together. But when her lovely eyes met his, she noticed instantly the one chink in his otherwise perfect armor he had hoped to hide. She smirked.

"Rough night?"

His smile didn't falter. "You should see the other guy," he quipped. "I mean, guys."

She took his meaning and her eyes flashed in disapproval. A brief image of all the alcohol he'd consumed along with the sensual positions he'd been in mere hours before, and Jane actually felt his face grow warm. He cleared his throat and turned to Minelli, reaching over his desk to shake the man's hand, momentarily discombobulated at his own discombobulation. Like a balding Yoda, Minelli's sparkling blue eyes missed nothing, and he gestured for Jane to take a seat.

"Thanks for coming in, Patrick. We have a case that's stymied us, and thought maybe your particular expertise would help us get past the brick wall we've hit."

"My pleasure," said Jane. He unbuttoned his suit coat and sat, crossing his legs and pulling down his vest al a Jean-Luc Picard. He risked a sideways glance at Lisbon, and couldn't miss the stubborn line of her lightly glossed lips. She didn't approve of him personally or professionally, even though he'd helped them solve about five cases over the last six months. Clearly she didn't believe in psychics or ménage a trois, evidenced by the plain gold cross that suspended from her delicate neck.

"What's the case," he asked, forcing himself to focus on Minelli.

"Wouldn't a psychic already know what the case is about?" Lisbon asked.

"Lisbon," Minelli admonished.

"Sorry," she said, remembering herself. She blushed in embarrassment that Jane had goaded her into unprofessionalism, but Jane was struck by how the rosy tinge of her cheeks was enhanced by her blouse. Add a little perspiration at her brow, and he had no doubt this would be how she'd look post-orgasm. He shifted in his seat.

"I can't always control when the gift of insight comes."

But what did come easily was his usual bullshit explanation, disguising the fact that he really wasn't a psychic. He was just a self-taught expert in human behavior, as well as a damn good guesser. But no one hired a good guesser without a college degree or a private investigator's license, especially not rich housewives who wondered if their dead mothers approved of how they redecorated the kitchen.

"Of course you can't," Minelli was saying. He slid a CBI folder across his desk and Jane moved to retrieve it, settling back in his chair to peruse the information inside. He was greeted by the smiling face of a beautiful little girl, her eyes wide and pale green, her hair long and curly, like a little blonde mermaid, or perhaps a fairy princess.

"This is Charlotte Kincaid," said Minelli. "She's been missing for a week. Her father is the online toy store magnate, and we're certain it's only a matter of time until we get a ransom demand. But—"

"No," said Jane, abruptly closing the folder and tossing it back on Minelli's desk. "I don't do cases involving children."

"What?" said Lisbon. "Why not?"

"I don't like them."

"What kind of person doesn't like children, for God's sake?"

"Lisbon—" began Minelli.

"I'm sorry, Boss, but you gotta be kidding me. She's not just a child, Mr. Jane, she's a vulnerable human being, possibly being victimized by an unknown assailant. She's terrified and misses her parents—both of whom are scared out of their minds themselves. As much as I hate to admit it, you do have a gift. Not a psychic one of course, but you can figure things out and find people faster than I've seen anyone else in the CBI ever do, even, I admit, my own team. I can't believe you would sit by and let all these people suffer just because you have an aversion to children. I have an aversion to psychics, but look at me, I'm putting that aside in the interest of this defenseless little girl. I'm willing to swallow my skepticism and do anything to find—"

"It's been a week?" Jane interrupted. "You both know she's probably dead anyway. Here, give me something of hers and I'll give you a quick reading."

Minelli knew by now how Jane worked, and took a small Teddy bear from his desk drawer. He handed it to Jane, who carefully removed the well-loved toy from the zip top evidence bag.

Jane closed his eyes and thought of nothing for exactly sixty seconds. He opened his eyes as if he'd been in a deep trance—not too difficult given his hangover-and he'd certainly appreciated the brief respite from Lisbon's haranguing.

"I'm sorry, Virgil, but I'm afraid I get no reading at all from this."

Lisbon scoffed audibly in disgust.

"So that means…." Minelli prompted.

"She's either dead or the spirits are blocking me from sensing anything."

Jane returned the bear to its plastic home, like a little toy body bag, he mused darkly. Jane rose and deposited the toy back on Minelli's desk.

"I hope you find the little girl, truly I do, but I honestly don't think I'll be of much use to you this time. Please call me again when you get another case Lisbon—I mean, the team—can't handle. So if you'll excuse me, I have a reading at eleven o'clock in El Dorado Hills…"

"You sure, Patrick?" Minelli asked, his wise eyes boring into his. Jane had great respect for the lead agent, and his expression made him feel a bit like his father was disappointment in him, a rare feeling for Jane. His real father was only disappointed in him when he'd done something right. It was very confusing, but Jane was used to ignoring his conscience, and only felt the overwhelming need to get out of there and on with his day. Maybe he'd even have time to stop at a nearby bar for the hair of the dog; his head was pounding like hell.

"I'm sure, Virgil. Sorry, again." He glanced fleetingly at Lisbon. "Agent Lisbon," he said with only a slightly mocking tone.

The relief as he left Minelli's office was incredible, like he'd dodged a very big, complicated bullet. Then he heard the soft click of Lisbon's heeled boots behind her and his stomach dropped.

"Mr. Jane?" she called softly after him. Naturally, he ignored her.

"Mr. Jane!" she repeated more emphatically, when he didn't turn around. People in the office were beginning to stare at the diminutive boss nearly running after the handsome consultant, but he only stopped abruptly when he'd reached the elevator landing.

"May I help you, Agent Lisbon?" His voice was clipped now with irritation. He'd had enough of people pricking at his conscience for one day.

"You damn well can," she said angrily. "That little trick with the Teddy bear was low, even for you. What's it really going to hurt for you to take a moment, look at the evidence, and give us your best guess of where to look for that girl? You won't even have to deal with the child if you don't want to."

He took a deep breath and turned to face her, unprepared for the pleading in her green eyes. He schooled his expression though.

"No."

"Well why the hell not? And don't give me that crap about the spirits or hating kids."

"It's not a lie. I hate kids. They're dirty, loud, rude, and demanding. Look, there's no deep, dark secret here. I wasn't bullied. I didn't lose a child. I don't have some deep-seated resentment of them. I simply don't like them."

She eyed him for a moment, her shrewd gaze sizing him up like a perp in her interrogation room. "You're full of shit," she concluded.

He shrugged. "You're free to believe what you want, Teresa, but I'm taking a pass on this one. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

He reached out and touched the down button for the elevator. She stood there, stewing in her anger while he unsuccessfully attempted to ignore her.

"Is there anything I can possibly do to change your mind?" she asked finally, just as the elevator dinged its arrival. It was oh so tempting to make an indecent proposal after that loaded question, but she wasn't finished with her own offer. "I could ask Minelli if it's in the budget to pay you a bit more—"

He laughed, and reached out to hold the door. "Come on. You don't really think I've offered my time here for the money, do you?"

"Then why?"

"It's the cachet, Agent Lisbon. You know how many clients—wealthy clients—I've garnered since I appeared on the nightly news after I solved the Hendrick case? The fact that you guys at the CBI take me seriously adds a certain gravitas to my business that goes even beyond my weekly segment on the local talk shows."

"Ah, so you're in it for the money, just not the CBI's money."

He grinned. "Exactly."

"Your mother must be so proud."

"I'm sure she's smiling down from Heaven as we speak."

Lisbon's face fell. "Oh, I'm sorry, Jane, I didn't realize…"

But the open elevator door buzzed in protest, and Jane walked inside. "See ya around, Agent Lisbon."

When she joined him inside just before the door slid shut, he was pleasantly surprised that she wouldn't take no for an answer either. It stirred his blood.

"Is there nothing else I can do to get you to take this case?"

He looked into her eyes at this, found himself taking a step forward. Maybe there was something after all. Her eyes widened at the sudden determination she saw in his face, and she took her own step back.

"Go out with me," he whispered.

"What?"

He could actually hear her breathing quicken in the small space.

"You heard me. If I find this girl, you'll agree to go out with me on a date. Someplace where you could maybe get rid of the pantsuit and wear a nice dress. Something with cleavage." His eyes dropped to her breasts, which were rising and falling at an abnormal clip. Jane felt suddenly very warm but he resisted the urge to loosen his collar.

He knew immediately he'd gone too far, and before his eyes met hers again, he saw her right hand form a serious fist.

"You're a pig," she said. Points off for lack of originality in the insult department, he thought in amusement.

"Now, Teresa, wasn't it you who said not ten minutes ago that you'd do anything to find this girl? A date with a handsome man shouldn't be that much to endure, if it reunites the little angel with Mommy and Daddy."

He had her there and they both knew it.

"I never said I'd be willing to compromise my morals or principles, however."

"Morals? Principles? It's just dinner, sweetheart. Maybe the theatre. Why, was there something more on the table you were offering?"

She flushed pink, and it was even more becoming than what he'd witnessed in Minelli's office.

"Just dinner," she stammered. "And I'm certainly not sleeping with you, and that's definitely not on the table."

"How about on a bed, Teresa? Not sure my back could take the table anyway."

"I hate you," she declared passionately.

"Despise maybe. Revile even. But hate me?" He lightly touched her cross. "I think not."

They'd reached the first floor, and the elevator door slid open. A pair of Sacramento police officers moved aside to let them exit, but Jane pressed the third floor button again and stayed inside.

"We forgot something upstairs," explained Jane. He stood aside for the officers to enter beside them. It was very crowded with their new friends, and Lisbon was forced to stand in front of Jane. He inhaled the warm scent of coconut and vanilla that wafted up from her hair, and he purposefully moved closer.

"I didn't say yes," Lisbon muttered.

"Well I'm saying it for both of us," he replied near her ear. He saw her tremble as his breath stirred her chestnut hair. "But before I go against my own principles, I need to get a look at that file. Time's a-wasting for that poor girl."

"Pig," she said again, with even more venom than before.

One of the cops gave her a dirty look.

"Not-not you guys," she stammered, obviously mortified.

Jane grinned like the devil he was.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Jane and Lisbon arrived back at Minelli's office, he was on the phone. With a raised eyebrow, he waved them both in.

"Set it up, Cho," he was saying to his agent in the field. "Keep me updated."

He hung up his desk phone and turned to Lisbon and Jane. "Cho says there's been a ransom demand. He and Van Pelt have been with the Kincaid family in case this happens," he explained to Jane. "Turns out we might not need your services after all. Nice to see my best agent was able to get you to reconsider though."

"She can be very persuasive," Jane said with not a hint at their agreement in the elevator. But he wasn't quite ready to give up on their deal yet, despite the ransom demand. The more he thought of seeing the staid Agent Lisbon in a clinging dress and heels, the more he wanted to be of some assistance on this case. "Good news about the ransom. But now I'm curious to see how this all turns out. Mind if I hang around until we get the sweet little urchin back?"

Lisbon frowned, no doubt the relief she felt at her narrow escape turning to dread once more.

"Not at all. We might still find something else for you to do, especially in the unlikely event that the kidnapper manages to get away."

"Great," said Jane and Lisbon together, but with comically different inflections.

"You two are so cute," commented Minelli in dry amusement. "Now, head over to the Kincaid home and do what needs to be done. I'll put SWAT on standby in case we need them for the ransom drop."

"Yes, sir," said Lisbon miserably. Jane held the door open for her and she marched past him angrily.

"I'll get my keys from my office," she said, and meet you downstairs. She didn't fancy another elevator ride with him, apparently, he thought with a grin.

"Okay. As long as you don't ditch me and slip down the stairs to the parking garage."

"I would never even think of doing such a thing," she lied. Foiled again, sweetheart.

"Right."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The ransom drop was to revolve around a white utility van at the southeast edge of a mall parking lot. The kidnapper, his voice disguised, had used a burner phone to set up the drop, with the usual caveat that there be no police around or Charlotte would die. Charlotte would be waiting inside the van, he said, and the kidnapper would open the door remotely once the million dollars was placed beside the van by Charlotte's father—he was adamant that it be him alone.

Naturally there would be police, in the form of well-hidden CBI agents, most of whom would be waiting in nearby cars. A driver would pretend to park and enter the mall, leaving another agent or two hiding in the backseat. Jane would stay with Lisbon, while Agent Grace Van Pelt left the minivan and walked casually toward the mall's main entrance. She would also be watching from inside the mall's glass doors. Agents Kimball Cho and Rigsby would tag team it in their own company SUV, Mr. Kincaid in the driver's seat.

When the CBI's vehicles arrived one at a time and parked in different locations, the white, windowless van was already in place. There was no one in the driver's seat of the vehicle, and while there was no proof anyone at all was in back either, they had to assume that Charlotte was in there, possibly with a gun trained on her should the police attempt to storm the van or Mr. Kincaid fail to bring the ransom.

In the back of the minivan parked about 300 yards from the target utility van, Jane and Lisbon waited. The windows were tinted as dark as the law allowed, and from this vantage point, Lisbon was able to use her binoculars to closely survey the van as well as the perimeter.

"I still see no reason why you had to be here," she complained as she scanned the area.

"Daddy said I could," Jane said with a grin. "Besides, if Charlotte isn't really in that van, as I suspect she is not, you'll still need me to find her. And that means our deal is still on."

"Why don't you think she's in there?"

"Too many things could go wrong for the kidnappers, for one thing. For example, once the money's been dropped and Charlotte is supposedly released, what's to stop the police from just hanging out to wait until the kidnapper shows up to collect the dough? It makes no sense."

"Some criminals are actually very stupid, Jane, which is often why we're able to catch them."

"True, but some criminals are very clever, which is often why they get away with it."

Lisbon lowered her binoculars to look at him with her usual annoyance.

"This was the hand we were dealt, Jane, so we're going to play along as long as we can in order to protect the life of that little girl. And remember, we're pretty clever ourselves. We've thought of every contingency." Snipers were on the roof of the mall, and Kincaid would wear a bullet-proof vest.

Jane looked skeptical, but he didn't comment—at least on that topic.

"So, any idea where you'd like to go for our dinner?"

"McDonald's drive-through," she said without missing a beat.

He chuckled. "And let a bunch of pimple-faced teenagers ogle your low cut dress from the drive-through window? I don't think so. Tell me your favorite type of food, and I'll pick the restaurant."

"Italian-German fusion."

He couldn't help smiling at her stubbornness. "Boy, will you be sorry if I find such a place. Wiener Schnitzel Carbonara? Gastronomical warfare. Besides, you remember how well that particular union worked out in World War II. Might I suggest something from only one of the Axis powers?"

Lisbon pretended to ignore him, and then, glancing at the time on her cell phone, she picked up her Walkie-Talkie.

"Send in Kincaid with the money," she said to Cho.

"Copy that."

Lisbon had set down the binoculars, and Jane picked them up out of boredom. He focused first on the white van, then on the various shoppers heading into the mall. Kincaid with his briefcase full of money, appeared came into view, and Jane saw the man was trembling, his back ramrod straight with tension. When he was almost to the van, a glint of metal from across the street caught his attention. He trained the binoculars on it, focused, and saw that a man was leaning against his car and had taken out his cell phone. He was watching the scene around the van intently, his finger poised over a button.

"We've gotta stop him," said Jane.

"What?" said Lisbon. "Who?"

"There's no time!" he said as he slid back the door of the van. Without thinking of himself for the first time in years, Jane began to run toward Kincaid.

"Jane! Stop!" Lisbon pressed the button on the Walkie as she followed after him. "Stand down! Stand down!" she yelled into the speaker at the snipers. "The crazy bastard is a friendly!"

"Kincaid! Get away from the van!" called Jane. By then, however, Kincaid was nearly at the drop off. He turned sharply around toward Jane, just as the whole world seemed to explode.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane awoke in a hospital bed, his head throbbing from where the blast had thrown him to the hard pavement of the parking lot. He opened his eyes, his vision a bit blurry at first, before he focused on the nurse that was checking his vitals.

Dammit, I was just about to get off work when this guy comes in. Stay until he wakes up, they tell me. If I miss fuckin' Grey's Anatomy again, heads are gonna roll…

"Sorry to hold you up," said Jane softly. "McDreamy fan?"

The nurse looked at him, startled. "What?"

"From what I hear, McSteamy isn't bad either."

Is this guy psychic or something? What the hell?

"Yes, as a matter of fact I am a psychic. How'd you know? Did Lisbon tell you?"

Jesus! Who is this guy? "Uh, I'll tell the doctor you're awake." And she made a hasty retreat.

Jane's eyes drifted shut again and he remembered suddenly why he was there. The van exploded. Did Kincaid survive? Had the girl been in the van? He moved to get out of bed.

"Not so fast," said the beautiful young doctor as she rushed to his bedside to push him gently back down on the pillow. "You're in no condition to be getting up right now."

Not another one. This hospital can't afford to be sued again if another patient slips and falls on his way to the bathroom.

"Don't worry," said Jane, "I don't want to fall either."

The doctor knitted her brows in confusion. Did I say that out loud? Must be hour twenty of my twenty-four-hour shift. She shook her head to clear it.

"Well, Mr. Jane," she said, after shining a bright pen light into his eyes and instructing him to follow her finger. "You've got a mild concussion and a fairly big lump on the back of your head. Vision seems fine, and you're going to have quite a headache for a few days, but if you take it easy you'll be up and at 'em in no time."

I wouldn't mind if he was up and at me, she thought. Yum. Good God, a girl could drown in those eyes. And that hair—wish my hair would curl like that…

Jane looked up at the lovely doctor with sudden interest. "Thanks, Doc, but it's not so fun in the humidity," he said.

She took a step back, her body going still. "What isn't?"

He grinned. "My hair, of course. Other things can be extremely fun on a sultry day, however," he added suggestively. "Leave me your number and when I'm up to it…"

She blushed furiously. "Uh, Mr. Jane, I'll leave you with a prescription for mild pain killers and anti-nausea pills. Come back to my office in a week for a follow up, or right back to the ER if you have uncontrollable dizziness, vision or hearing loss, or an unbearable headache. I'll send the nurse back in with an appointment card, but I'd like you to stay overnight for observation."

"Is that really necessary?"

If it wasn't necessary, I wouldn't have ordered it. Men.

"Yes, I'm afraid it is, just to be safe."

And don't even think about skipping out of here against doctor's orders.

"Don't worry, Doc, I'm happy to follow any orders you give me. I'd never think about skipping out on you."

"Uh, good," she said lamely.

She turned and left as quickly as the nurse had, but not before he heard her final thoughts:

Shit! I definitely need to take those vacation days I've been saving...

Jane, a little more awake now, stared after the doctor. Now that he thought of it, both the nurse and the doctor were acting very strangely around him, not to mention how they were saying things out loud that normally people kept to themselves in a professional atmosphere. He was certainly used to getting hit on everywhere, as well as engaging in his own flirtations, but something seemed off somehow. Was there something they weren't telling him? Had his head injury caused him to hallucinate?

Just then, Lisbon walked in, looking flatteringly concerned. He met her eyes, but before she opened her mouth, it was as if all her thoughts came pouring into his brain, fast and disjointed as thoughts often are:

Oh, thank God! I was so worried. What a jackass! If he'd ended up dead it would have served him right. How can his still look so damn beautiful even in that silly hospital gown?

"How are you feeling?" she asked aloud.

He stared at her a moment, trying to process the difference between what he thought he'd heard coming from her head and what had actually come out of her mouth.

"Fine," he managed. "Head aches, but fine. I'd really like to get out of here. Any way you could talk the doctor out of keeping me overnight?"

What are you, an idiot? You'll do what the doctor says.

Oddly, she said the exact same thing out loud, and he heard it in his mind and in his ears at the same time, in stereo.

Jane narrowed his eyes in thought. He must really be out of it.

"The little girl?" he managed to ask.

"No bodies were found in the van. Kincaid didn't make it though; he was too close to the blast. We were totally taken off guard. I didn't even think this was a possibility. I mean, who blows up a million dollars? Obviously, the real target was Kincaid himself, and that means Charlotte is still out there." She was extremely frustrated and angry with herself, and her thoughts reflected it.

It's all my fault. Kincaid's death, Jane's injuries. Jesus, what a complete and utter dupe I was.

"It's not your fault, Teresa," he said gently.

She looked taken aback, as if he'd actually read her mind, and it was then that Jane realized that he no longer had to fake being a psychic.

He was one.

A/N: Hope you liked the little homage to another great episode, "Bloodshot." Waterbaby is up next! Thanks for reading.

[DR1]