So I have so many Mentalist projects in the works already... and as I was looking through them I found this idea of Jane being hit on by another guy. I had absolutely no clue what I had in mind when I wrote that, but I'm guessing it wasn't what it turned out to be. I'm sorry, I just suck at writing humor and nice!Jane, so I ventured into my familiar territory again: drama and even the slightest hints of angst. I don't even know if I like it myself, but I'd be very happy to hear your thoughts on this. :)

It's set somewhere after S04E08, but there aren't any spoilers.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

Jane looked up at hearing the unfamiliar male voice. "No, it isn't." A quick glance down the bar learned him that plenty seats were available, but for some reason the dark haired man standing next to him requested the one next to his.

He sat down on the bar stool and flashed him a smile. "Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome."

Nursing his drink he was still wondering about the guy's apparent need to sit next to him. Did he know he worked with the police? Lisbon and the team were investigating a murder that happened two blocks away and he'd told them he would go and see if there were any locals who could tell them what happened. He'd entered the nearest bar, but not with the intention of collecting information. The man had been killed at four in the morning in a dark alley, no way anyone would've seen what happened. No, he'd wanted to get away from the team, away from people who wanted to know what went on inside his head.

Of course, Patrick Jane could always lie and talk himself out of things, but he didn't want to. He was tired of keeping up his mask. Lately he was having trouble constraining himself, letting his control slip ever so slightly. A few weeks ago Lisbon had finally confronted him about the reappearance of Red John. There'd been so much he'd wanted to tell her – wanted to yell at her – but he knew he shouldn't. Knew he couldn't. Yes, he'd told her before that Red John was still alive and it was her own fault for not believing him. He'd told her before that he'd kill him and then proceeded to shoot a man posing as Red John and she still seemed determined to change his mind. He knew she couldn't, she'd had to know this too. Leave it to Lisbon to try and change him. She meant all the best, he knew that, but some things should be left alone. Red John was his, and no matter her good intentions, when she tried to interfere with his business he wanted nothing more than for her to disappear.

So here he was, sitting at the local bar, still staring at the scotch in front of him. He'd been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed the man next to him asking him a question. It wasn't until he felt someone touching his arm that he became aware of his surroundings again. He looked aside, finding the man's striking blue eyes that locked onto his, and let a tired smile appear on his face. "I'm sorry, can I help you?"

The man grinned. "I was just asking you if I could buy you a drink."

His eyebrows raised as he curiously stared at him. "Eh, no, thank you. I'm fine."

"Ah, okay. No problem." The man signaled the bartender for a drink, seemingly aware of Jane's eyes still on him as he looked aside again and shot him another smile.

Jane couldn't help a grin from appearing on his own face as he processed what was going on. He'd seen this happen many times before – granted, not with another guy, but still – but it didn't feel the same as previous occasions. Last time a woman had come up to him he'd felt threatened, sick to his stomach at the thought of someone trying to gain his attention, but this was different. There was no way anything could happen and Jane liked those odds. Not that he'd ever consider dating again, but there were still biological components involved and at least now he wouldn't have to fear certain desires trying to convince him otherwise.

"So, I'm guessing you're not from around here?"

Jane smiled. "What led you to this conclusion?"

He shrugged. "I don't recall seeing you before and I'm sure I would've remembered a guy as handsome as you."

Just as he suspected. As the man took a few sips from his drink he decided that he shouldn't lead him on.

"Listen, Sam –" He ignored the surprised look in his eyes at the mention of his name (he wasn't going to tell him that he overheard the bartender when he served him his drink) and placed a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested."

He saw a brief flash of disappointment in his eyes, but he blinked and it was gone.

"I figured." He saw Jane's look travel to his wedding band as he removed his hand and took a hold of his glass again. "I just thought I'd try my luck. It was pretty obvious you're straight, but a guy can always try, hm." He took another sip. "I'd noticed the wedding ring, but I've been married myself, so..."

Patrick never liked talking about himself and he especially didn't like the way this conversation was going, so he wanted to steer it back to the man sitting next to him.

"You've been married? Just for the sake of starting a family or did you think you were straight?"

"Little bit of both, I think." He stared over his glass before picking it up again and placing it against his lips. "I loved her, but not in the way that she loved me. We got a son together, best thing that ever happened to me..."

Patrick recognized the hurt in his voice all too well. "What happened to him?"

"My wife took him with her when she moved out. I haven't seen him since, she... she thinks I'm a bad influence."

Patrick could feel for the guy, how could he not. Losing a child is the most devastating thing that could happen to a parent. If there was anyone who knew the impact of such an event, it was him. Even if his son was still alive, he wouldn't wish a fraction of that pain on anyone.

"You may not be able to spend time with him or even talk to him, but at least he's out there. If his mother loves him as much as you do, he'll grow up happy. He'll be okay."

"You're right," he said, refusing to look back at him. He downed the last of his drink and ordered one more. "I know I shouldn't be selfish, that my boy's happiness is all that matters. But it's hard." Then he turned his head and gazed into his eyes. "You look sad. Do you have kids?"

Patrick ignored the lump in his throat. "I had a daughter. I lost her."

"She got killed?"

His voice was slightly hoarse as he answered. "Yeah." He didn't feel the need to tell his life story to a stranger, but he felt that the man understood his refusal to elaborate on the subject.

They stayed quiet for a while, Patrick taking another sip from his drink, Sam's fingers caressing the double vodka and coke in front of him.

"You should try attending an AA meeting."

He looked up at him, slightly aggravated but also caught by surprise. "How come –"

Patrick's voice was soft and filled with what seemed to be genuine concern as he looked at the dark substance and then back at him. "You've downed your entire glass in the time it took me to take two sips, not to mention that the bartender knew your favourite drink. Your sexuality isn't the only reason your wife divorced you and doesn't want you near your kid. Get help, get healthy, find a good man for yourself and apologize to your wife. You deserve some happiness too."

The man seemed to ponder and his gaze returned to his glass. "I never realized," he said. "You see, I once fell in love with this guy who –"

"I don't need to hear it," he said, not at all condescending but rather gentle. "The past is the past. You need to get over things before they get to you. Talk to people, you'll feel better."

The man stood up and put some bills on the bar. Then he looked him in the eye and put a hand on his shoulder. "I never caught your name."

"It's Patrick."

"You know, I came here tonight looking for a good time. But I think what you gave me is more than I ever could have hoped for. Thank you, Patrick."

"Good luck Sam, you deserve it."

With that he turned around and left.

"Jane?" A familiar voice sounded behind him. He turned around and a grin immediately formed on his face.

"Ah, Lisbon. Just in time, I was about to go down to the precinct to ask how you were doing on the case." He paused and studied the look she was giving him, knowing – as always – just exactly what went on in her mind. "But you don't care about that, you want to ask me what that guy was doing over here."

She opened her mouth and wanted to disagree with him, but knew that he'd see right through her obvious lie and as such she just waited for his answer.

"Nothing important," he said, shrugging. "He was just telling me that he'd never seen such a handsome man before."

He inwardly laughed at the shocked expression that appeared on her face as she connected the dots but didn't believe the conclusion she reached. Then she burst out laughing.

They walked back to her car as she continued to chuckle, telling him that she'd always known this day would come. He humoured her with a few other quotes – some were true, the most flattering ones he made up – and let her insult his good looks.

Sure, tonight might've seemed like it had been all about superficial things like sexualities and cheesy lines, but he didn't feel like telling her what had followed next. No need for her to know the whole story of the man whose life he had probably saved just now. Superficial was good, that way he wouldn't have to think about things that didn't really matter.

Because until he killed Red John, nothing else did.