AN: This is my favorite thing I've written in a while. I hope you guys like it as well.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.

"Sounds like an amazing woman."

"She was."

In that moment, I'd give anything to hear Jane be able to talk about his wife in the present tense. The past is just too damn painful.

I'd always wondered what Angela Ruskin Jane was like. And now I've gotten a glimpse of her – or, more accurately, a glimpse of her ghost. It occurs to me that her ghost, as well as Charlotte's, follows Jane around like a shadow. His smile can be so radiant that sometimes I forget darkness tends to follow him, too.

The door slides open behind me, a scraping sound echoing around the room, and I make no effort to move. I can't very well pretend that I haven't been doing exactly what I've been doing.

"Lisbon?" comes Jane's voice.

I look over my shoulder and meet his confused stare. "I'm sorry," I whisper, gesturing helplessly to the computer. "I shouldn't have –"

He realizes a second later what I have seen, and I watch him closely, waiting for the mask to slide into place.

But it doesn't.

Instead, I watch his shoulders drop a fraction of an inch as the tension leaves his body. Then he shrugs. "It's okay," he says quietly. "If our situations were reversed, I'd be curious, too." He sits on the bed, and I pivot around to face him, placing my arm on the back of the chair.

"I was surprised," I admit, "at how honest you were." A thought occurs to me, and I amend my statement. "Or, at least, it seemed like you were being honest."

Jane looks down. "I was."

"I thought, when the video first started, that…you might actually be considering dating again. That would be a major step for you." My voice drops in volume and pitch as I say this, and Jane determinedly stares at his hands as though they will reveal all the world's mysteries. For me, sometimes they do.

He nods. "Yeah, it would be."

I don't dare inquire any further. I've already bypassed toeing the line for stepping over it altogether. But Jane takes matters out of my hands, the words flowing out of his mouth like a stream over a waterfall.

"Do you think she would want me to?" he says in a rush.

"What?"

His eyes finally meet mine, and I can tell he's trying very hard to keep his expression more or less neutral. He almost succeeds.

"Do you think Angela would want me to…consider dating again? Or would she feel like she was being replaced?"

I want to tell him what he wants to hear so badly. I tell him the truth instead.

"I don't know," I admit. "You would know better than I would." I take a deep breath as I consider his question. "If she was alive and you were dead, what would you want for her?"

"I'd want her to be happy. I'd want her to find someone who made her happy." The words come without hesitation.

"And you said in your video that you thought your wife was better than you are. A stronger person. Don't you think that means she would want the same for you? Even if the person who made you happy wasn't her?"

I'm not sure how sound my logic is, but it seems to get through to Jane. He nods.

I sigh. "But you've known that all along, haven't you?"

"Yes," says Jane. "She would, without a doubt, have wanted me to move on."

"So why ask me for an answer you already knew?"

"I guess I needed to hear someone else say the words out loud."

"Do you believe them now?"

He doesn't answer, but to me, that is answer enough.

I open my mouth, not sure what to say but knowing I have to say something. Jane cuts me off. "What about you?" he asks.

I'm caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

"You saw my video," he says. "What would yours say if you made one?"

I can't help but roll my eyes. "First of all, I'd never willingly make a video like that, and, second, it's not like I'm in a place in my life where I want what those videos typically lead to."

Jane considers this. "Maybe not now," he says finally. "But you want that someday."

I shrug. "I'd need a reason. I haven't found that reason yet."

He reacts strangely to this last sentence, twitching slightly in a way that looks like he's recoiling. At my words, perhaps? I narrow my eyes at him, perplexed.

"Fair enough," he grants me, recovering. "But come now, Lisbon, you can't say you haven't daydreamed once or twice about the possibility."

"The possibility of the future?"

He just looks at me.

I sigh. "Of course I have. More than once or twice."

His eyes urge me to continue.

So I do.

"I try not to actively look for someone," I admit, dragging the toe of my shoe through the dust on the floor. "But if I was looking, I'd want someone who I could build a family with. Someone who makes the nights less dark." I glance up to meet Jane's eyes again before looking away. "Someone I can trust."

We're silent after that, lost in each other's thoughts. A minute passes, and then another, and I realize belatedly how late it is from the darkness of the sky. I stand up, reaching for my computer, and take a step.

"I hope you find him," Jane says, his voice steady, sincere, and something else I can't quite name. Regretful? Jane continues. "He sounds like an amazing man."

I hold Jane's gaze this time.

"He is."