I thought of this, and the second I did, I had to write it! I loved the idea as soon as it crossed my mind, and I hope you will too! Frankly I'm surprised that no-one's thought of this before! But I'm also glad, as it gived me the oppertunity to write it for you!

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again, Jane; just because you have an enormously smart-mouthed disposition and a death wish does not mean that you have to employ both traits around emotionally unstable and potentially violent suspects!"

"Come on, Lisbon!" Jane grinned sideways at her, still gingerly nursing the flaming red hand-shaped mark on his slightly inflamed cheek. "I let her slap me on purpose! You've been in a frankly foul mood all week, and I know how much you love seeing me getting injured on a case!" He shrank away from her as she threw a murderous glare in his direction.

"If I enjoy seeing you being hit so much, why am I not allowed to be the one hitting you?"

"There is, in fact, my dear Lisbon, a line between hitting and fatally wounding, believe it or not. If you start entertaining yourself at the expense of my face, I fear that line may be crossed."

Lisbon shook her head, disbelieving but unwilling to argue. "Why are we walking back to CBI anyway? I still don't see..."

"One simple reason; you need it. Don't attempt denying it!" He chuckled as she growled at him. "You know you need the fresh air. You've been cooped up inside for days, the longest amount of time you've spent outside is a brisk walk to the SUV. You're annoyed because La Rouche's been on your back about keeping me in line, don't ask me how I know, I just do, but even that's not the real reason you're so grouchy! You're currently pondering the most long-winded, drawn-out and probably painful ways of killing me because I just solved our first case for days in a matter of minutes!"

"You're just showing off now..." she grumbled at him, speeding up in an attempt to leave him behind on the sidewalk.

But he simply caught her up and smiled disarmingly at her. "Thus, we walk back to the office."

"Please tell me you didn't just say "thus"? You've just reached a whole new level of annoying!" Lisbon shook her head again, trying to look anywhere but at her insufferable consultant.

It was true that she'd been in a bad mood for a while. The cases that came in were few and far between, so the whole unit was bored out of their minds, so much so that even Jane had almost run out of ways to keep people entertained (short of being kidnapped and almost burnt alive again). La Rouche had been stalking her and Jane almost constantly, trying to wean information out of them about anything and everything. Jane however, was a lot more successful in his attempts at avoiding the annoying man that Lisbon was, and so whenever La Rouche did catch up with her alone and unawares, not only did she have to answer seemingly unimportant questions, she also got an earful about how Jane was out of control and needed reigning in.

Jane, being Jane, found the whole situation hilarious. He'd been annoyingly happy recently. Over the last few days Lisbon had noticed that he seemed incapable of keeping still; he always had to be doing something, be with someone, more likely annoying someone, usually her. Then they'd finally got an interesting-sounding case. But the blonde haired consultant had closed the whole thing in a little under fifteen minutes flat.

He was so infuriating!

Now they had nothing to do.

Again.

And it was all Patrick Jane's fault.

"Sulking doesn't become you, Theresa, it really doesn't. And no matter how much you try, you can't make it suit you!" Jane wiggled his eyebrows at her, probably expecting some kind of witty, snarky response.

But Theresa Lisbon found that, today, she just didn't care about fighting with him. "Shut up, Jane!"

He seemed to get the message that time, and finally lapsed into a sort-of silence. Knowing Jane, he would never achieve a full bona fide silent state, but a quiet humming was a considerable improvement to his usual near constant chatter, so Lisbon accepted that he was making an effort and left it at that. Clearly he sensed that she really wasn't in the mood.

So if she wasn't in that kind of mood, why was he?

True, the only time he really shut up was whenever a Red John case surfaced, and that was when they all started worrying for his mental health and physical wellbeing, but there'd been no sign of Red John for months. So therefore, Patrick had been happy, healthy, and annoying. But why was he suddenly so happy? Closing cases in record time was normal for him, and it was what made the Serious Crimes Unit so renounced in the CBI, but at the rate he was going he'd break his own record twice over if he wasn't careful.

She looked sideways at him out of the corner of her eye and caught the look on his face. For a split second his mask had slipped. For that flash she'd seen the pain and anger and sadness that he was hiding. Only now could she see just how hyped-up he was. He was practically running on empty. Now that she thought about it, she couldn't even remember a time in the last few weeks when he'd retired to that attic at CBI that he seemed to have claimed as his own, and she hadn't noticed him sleeping on his couch. Had he been sleeping at all? Looking at him now she could see the bags under his eyes, the faint trace of stubble that he was only just hiding, the way his skin was far too pale and his eyes lacked that twinkling spark he always had that seemed to light up his entire personality. He'd been running around solving so many problems and generally keeping himself busy it didn't look like he'd had any time for himself at all. Why?

She mentally started to run through all the dates in her head that were bad for him. It took her under a second.

It was almost as if she'd walked straight into a brick wall. One moment she was walking with a perplexed edge to her features, the next she'd stopped dead, a look of horror on her face, her hands clenched into fists, cursing her own stupidity and selfishness.

Jane carried on for a few seconds before he noticed she'd stopped, he was so engrossed in his humming and a passing butterfly. He turned when he noticed her absence, looking at her in puzzlement. "Lisbon?" he asked.

"Oh God... Jane?" she whispered.

"What? What is it? What's wrong?" Shocked, he rushed back to her, worried.

Suddenly all his recent erratic behaviour made perfect sense. He was trying desperately to distract himself, keeping himself busy with all the work, entertaining her when she was down, pulling tricks on the team and telling jokes, always doing something, never being on his own for too long.

Slowly, as if she were scared he'd run for the hills, she met his gaze, and felt guilty for the frantic worry she saw she'd planted in his eyes. "It's today... Isn't it?" she said carefully.

The effect was instantaneous. He froze, staring unseeing into her face, so many emotions swirling in his eyes she felt she'd drown in them. He was almost robotic the way he slowly stepped back a few paces, arms slack at his sides, eyes downcast, head bowed, shoulders shaking, his whole body quivering slightly. It was a few seconds before he spoke again, and when he did the sound shook Lisbon to her core.

"It doesn't matter..." His voice was empty, drained of any feeling. He shook his head slowly. "It doesn't matter..." he said again, quieter this time.

Lisbon rushed over to him, taking his hands in hers. "Of course, of course it matters! Why didn't you tell me?"

"What good would it do?" he snapped, his voice suddenly cold, steel hard and angry. "What good would anything do? Nothing I do would make any difference. Nothing will bring them back, what should I do? What would you have me do?" He snatched his hands away, turning his back to her and beginning to walk.

She jogged in front of him, placing a firm hand on his chest, halting him mid-step. "You should have told someone. If not me than someone, anyone. Rigsby, Cho, Van Pelt? Hell, even La Rouche if you wanted! Then at least someone would be with you!"

Lisbon took a deep breath. "You always help people with their problems, yet you won't let anyone help you with yours. Today of all days, you should not be alone, and you know it. You should have someone to help you, to talk to you, even just to be with you. We all would, Patrick, all of us. All you have to do is ask. But you won't will you? You won't ask, because you're too proud. You think that just because you ask us for our help, Red John will target us. But you don't know that. Still, you won't take the risk. We deserve to be able to make our own decisions, to look after ourselves. We can look after ourselves, and we can look after you too. You make our decisions for us. Well, I'm not going to let you this time, because you don't know what's best. You think you do, but you don't. So here's what we're going to do; we're going to go back to CBI, we're going to get Van Pelt, Cho and Rigsby, we're all going to take the rest of the day off, and we're all going to have a good time! And you will enjoy yourself, or so help me, I will shoot you! Clear?"

Jane was silent. He simply stared at her, she could almost see the wheels turning in his head, trying to find a way out of it. She waited. Today, on the day his family died, Theresa Lisbon was not going to take no for an answer.

Then he smiled. Suddenly, his arms were around her, holding her tightly, hugging her with all the strength he had left in him. She returned the gesture whole-heartedly, smiling happily.

"Thank you, Theresa..." he whispered in her ear. "Thank you so much..." He kissed her hair, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Then he straightened up, sniffing lightly. "And you know I'd never tell La Rouche!"

Lisbon laughed, slightly amazed that she'd done it. Draping one arm over her shoulders he started walking again, pressing her tightly to his side in a half-hug that made moving slightly difficult, but neither of them cared at all.

"Come on then!" Jane said loudly. "But I'm-"

He broke off suddenly, staring straight ahead.

"You're what?" Lisbon looked up at him. "Jane?"

His face split into a smile that she'd seen too many times before. Before she could groan to herself, he was off. "Look at that, Lisbon!" he shouted, jogging ahead to get a better look at the object that had so entranced him, leaving Lisbon to run after him, sighing.

It was a box. A big, blue box. A big, blue, wooden box with "Police Public Call Box" written near the top. It even had a light on its roof that Lisbon assumed would illuminate appropriately. Lisbon could see nothing to get excited about, but Jane was practically jumping for joy at his new discovery.

"Look how blue it is!" he said in awe. "I've never seen one of these before! They used to have these in London in the nineteen hundreds. Police could lock people they arrested in them until they could facilitate them at the station!"

"Fascinating..." Lisbon drawled. "Come on, Jane, we have to go. I need to get everyone ready!"

"Can't you feel it though?" he gazed at her, seeming genuinely surprised.

"Feel what?"

"It!"

"Feel what?"

"It!" He said again, gesturing with his whole arm to the box. "Doesn't it just feel off to you? Weird and sort of wrong. Like you shouldn't be able to see it?"

"Then maybe you should pay attention to that feeling, quit seeing it, and get going back to CBI?"

He ignored her. "I wonder what's inside?" he thought aloud. He pressed how whole body against the box, one ear stuck to the wood, his face screwed up tightly, listeing intently for any sound coming from inside, palms flat against the surface, as if he could pass right through to the interior.

"Seriously, Jane, if you don't go now I'm gonna-"

"Watch out!" a loud voice called. The voice was British. Both the CBI employees turned just in time to see a tall man with wild brown hair in a pinstripe suit and a woman with long ginger hair come tearing towards them, a silver key clutched tightly in the man's outstretched hand. The pinstriped missile tripped a few feet away from the box, the key entered the lock and turned, the stranger crashed into the stunned consultant and they both tumbled through the open door of the box and vanished inside, the door closing swiftly behind them.

At this, Lisbon drew her gun. "CBI! Stop where you are and put your hands in the air!" There was no response from inside the box. "Let that man go and we can sort this out nice and quietly!"

"Jane certainly knows how to get abducted in style..." she thought quietly to herself.

"There's no time!" shouted the ginger woman from close behind the agent. "Get inside or get away!"

The woman grabbed Lisbon around the shoulders and shoved her into the box as well, falling in a heap on the floor as the door close behind them. Jane, it seemed had also tripped on entry, and now the strange man, Lisbon and the loud ginger were all lying on top of him.

But he didn't seem to mind. He was too busy staring in confusion, awe and disbelief at the room that surrounded him.

As entrys to strange situations go, Patrick Jane's and Theresa Lisbon's hadn't been the most graceful, or original, or memorable. The scene was made worse by the fact that only one of them had the decency to be properly impressed by what he saw, no matter how uncomfortable they were, no matter how many bodies were lying, winded and panting on top of his back as he lay on his chest on the metal grating that formed the floor of their new surroundings.

"Whoa..." Jane gasped.

I don't know how many chapters this will be in length, but I will get this done. It won't be very long, but it will be very emotional on Jane's part.

Let me know if you liked it?

Reviewers get bananas!