A/N: This takes off directly after the final scene in "Something's rotten in Redmund". I'm delving into my usual angst, however I'm undecided whether to follow my muse into the dark or if I should struggle and try to infuse some light into the fic. So be warned this might turn dark.

Lisbon watched Jane walk away. To a casual observer there was nothing unusual about his demeanor, but for Lisbon's finely tuned senses his whole being radiated pain; his slightly hunched shoulders, his barely tilted head and the tightly coiled muscles in his back.

Jane was clearly headed to his room in the attic and by the looks of it, wanted to get there sooner rather than later. As Lisbon tracked his progress with her eyes, he reached the bottom of the stairs and practically leaped up them in his haste to leave the room filled with chatter and pictures of a newborn. Only Lisbon saw him leave.

Cho and Van Pelt were bickering whether newborns could be called ugly and barely acknowledged Lisbon leaving the table. She walked slowly towards the stairs, not quite sure what her feet seemed to be doing on their own accord. She didn't know what she could say to make Jane's pain any less, but she had to try something. He was her friend and she would do anything for the few friends she had and it severely pained her to see the consultant in pain.

He had been fraying around the edges for some time now and to add Rigby's newborn baby to the mix might be the proverbial last straw that broke the man's back. She was worried for him already and now she was getting seriously concerned.

As she approached the closed door to the attic, her heart constricted in a worry. She came to a stop and stared at the door and life of pain and sorrow that it contained. She lifted her hand, knocked once and quietly slid the door open and slipped inside, letting it close behind her.

The room was dark and quiet except for the muffled sobs. Lisbon's eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness and in the faint light of the street lamps, she finally could see Jane. He was standing facing the large window, head bowed, his hands clenched into fists, his shoulders shaking.

He must have been aware of her presence, but he didn't acknowledge it. But then he didn't tell her to go away either. It was always difficult with Jane as he kept himself so closed and didn't let anybody see more than glimpses of him, that when he did let you witness his true nature, you felt slightly off balance. And privileged. Or at least Lisbon did.

She stood still, observing, not quite sure what to do as there was no logic that she could lean on. She sighed and braced herself as she needed to play this by ear and with Jane it was always difficult as you never knew where you ended up with.

Lisbon slowly walked up to Jane, coming to a standstill behind him, slightly to the left enabling her to study his profile in the shadows.

Her aching heart leaped up to her throat at the sight of the tears on Jane's face as he valiantly tried to stifle the sobs that were wrenched free from his throat.

Lisbon shuffled a little bit closer, until she could feel the heat radiating from Jane and slowly reached for his left hand while leaning against his arm. After some gentle stroking and tugging, his fist relaxed and Lisbon was able to twine her fingers with his.

She breathed in relief as at least Jane allowed her presence and whatever little relief it would bring him. She leaned her head against Jane's shoulder and held his hand, while he was immersed in his own, private hell, weeping now openly.

XXX

When Jane saw the picture of the newborn baby boy, he didn't expect his heart to shatter into pieces. He thought that the pain had diminished by now, but obviously he shouldn't have assumed anything.

He knew that Lisbon's eyes were on him and that his hasty withdrawal would result in her coming after him, but it didn't bother him. In his pain, he didn't even notice or stop to dissect the fact that he was perfectly fine for Lisbon to see him and his pain. He just needed to leave the room immediately.

Without quite knowing how he managed it, he found himself standing in front of the large window in his attic room. It was dark and quiet, but the only thing he could see and hear were his own memories of his daughter being born and being handed to him. The heart swelling love and protectiveness that he had felt when he looked at her sleeping face and the heart wrenching pain, when he couldn't protect his sweet girl, when he was holding her in his arms, her eyes closed as in deep sleep but this time her blood staining her clothes in her death.

He let the tears flow freely as there was no way he could have stopped them now. He tried to keep the sobs tightly inside him out of years of practice, but the pain was too much and he wept openly.

He was half aware of another presence in the room, but his nose told him it was Lisbon and that seemed to pacify his brain and his mind slipped back into the red haze of pain.

It was only brought back when he felt Lisbon trying to gently tug his fist open so that she could hold his hand and instinctively he did what she wanted. When he felt her leaning against his arm and lowering her head against his shoulder, his final barriers crumbled and the grief and the pain that had festered for years, came rushing out. He could only hold on to Lisbon, when he was taken under, trusting her to anchor him as he became lost.

TBC