The inspiration for this story comes from the story Long Lost (Long Last) by hardly loquacious. I think I might've already had a vague idea for a Mentalist fic, but the idea of Jane having a hobby got me thinking even more. Anyway, LL (LL) is a really good story. Go check it out!

Shout out and many thanks to: hardly loquacious for beta-ing/editing this for me.

Disclaimer: I'm female. Enough said.

As the head of the Serious Crimes Unit, Teresa Lisbon had seen many odd things. A case being solved by a gold feather, a team member losing his memory, going to the circus and being called 'Pepper'… It was enough to make one wonder if the Serious Crimes Unit was misnamed as some kind of sick joke. A Serious Crimes Unit should have more, well, serious crimes. Straight forward ones, if you will. Not ones even remotely having anything to do with tigers digging up bodies.

But the Serious Crimes Unit sounded better than Odds & Ends Unit or Misc. Unit or The Weird Cases Unit… The CBI did have some pride after all, no matter what certain people said.

Of course, Lisbon was 99% sure that the reason most of the cases turned out the way they did was because of a specific person.

Upon reflection, as Lisbon sat at her desk, she saw things on a normal basis that other cops only saw in their cases, oh, every ten years or so. Or not at all. Ever. Maybe. She doubted anyone else had watched a speedboat explode as they approached it with their team.

Yes, Teresa Lisbon had seen many odd things.

But sitting at her desk and eyeing the bullpen, she thought she was seeing the oddest thing of all.

Patrick Jane was sitting at his desk. Reading a book. Albeit a book that probably wasn't CBI or case related, but he was sitting at his desk.

If Cho walked in with a tiara on his head, Lisbon wouldn't have been surprised. Jane had been gone for six months, but that hadn't changed everything about him. Certainly not this, she knew.

She tried to work. Really, she did. But finally she had to admit defeat. She approached Patrick Jane warily. He was still sitting his desk. Now… jotting down notes?

She stood in front of his desk for a full minute. There was a goodly sized box next to his elbow that looked like it had thrown up its packing material all over the desk. Clearly, he was reading an instruction manual of some sort, which came as a relief to some degree. Cho had once come upon Jane reading a CBI rule book (brushing up on regulations before he defended himself in court), but Lisbon had yet to see it herself.

Jane's fingers were covering the title. It could be anything.

He finally looked up. "Lisbon."

"Jane," she acknowledged. He went back to his reading and scribbling notes, while she went back to her staring (and telling herself this was not one of the signs of the apocalypse).

She was just reminding herself of this fact again – after all she was a Catholic, however lapsed - when Jane looked up and blinked his blue eyes once. "Can I help you with something, Lisbon?" he offered solicitously.

"What are you reading?" she asked warily.

"A manual."

"A manual for what?"

"The thing that I ordered."

Lisbon gritted her teeth. Jane smiled.

"What did you order, Jane?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Nothing to bring about the end of the world, I assure you," he replied, without looking up. "I could feel you imagining all sorts of terrible things from your office so, in answer to your question, I am sitting at my desk because there was more room to spread out and open my package. I was being logical. Aren't you proud of me?"

Lisbon decided not to address that loaded question. "I didn't ask why you were at your desk. I asked what you were reading."

"I may not be psychic, my dear, but you were practically screaming the question."

Lisbon frowned at Jane. She could feel a headache forming behind her brow. She hated this. This kind of thing usually ended with her being yelled at by… Never mind. She refused to think about Wainwright just now. She refused to let Red John's actions ruin a single, simple conversation with Jane.

Jane interrupted her thoughts, as he was wont to do. "Redgrave sent me a letter and a photo."

"Huh?" slipped out before her mind caught up. "Oh, the Wyck Theissen case? The washed-up fashion designer from a while ago?"

"Right in one, Lisbon." Jane closed the manual for "what he ordered," scribbled one more sentence and clicked off the pen loudly.

Why was a state of confused frustration so common around Jane? Did he do it purposefully or was it just Lisbon he deemed worthy enough? She'd say getting information from him was like pulling teeth, but she was sure pulling teeth was easier.

"Why would Redgrave send you a letter and photo?" she asked after a moment.

"Because." Jane began, ever so succinctly and helpfully. He started lifting random packaging off the desk. "The letter's on my couch, actually. He sent it a while ago. Go ahead and read it."

Lisbon walked towards the couch. A piece of square shaped styrofoam was bumped off the desk by Jane, followed by a box landing were Lisbon had just been standing.

"It's not your couch and I hope you know you're cleaning that up," Lisbon said, eyeing the mess as she sat down with the letter.

"Yes it is, and yes I will clean it up, boss," Jane said cheerfully. "Ah ha!"

A handful of packing peanuts went flying.

Lisbon shook her head, feeling her headache start throbbing its way back to life. She unfolded the letter.

Mr. Jane,

I won't lie. I take pictures for the money and the models. But from time to time, I take a picture for art's sake. You can communicate a lot by glance or body language, as I'm sure you know. People frozen in mid expression, their feelings and subtle messages forever stilled - I love it.

Say hello to Teresa and Grace for me.

The letter was signed with a sharp and spiky scribble that was barely readable as 'Tony Redgrave.'

Lisbon frowned, a sneer crossing her face as she thought of the man who, frankly, creeped her out. He wasn't an artist so much as a pervert hiding behind a camera and the name of art.

She pulled the photo out facedown. Redgrave'd written a message on the back.

Want to write a caption for this one?

Lisbon flipped the photo over and her eyebrows drew together in confusion. It was just Jane and her, standing down the hallway. The background had almost been blurred to the extreme, obviously professionally, so that they stood out clearly, not even facing each other entirely. She could barely make out Van Pelt's form arresting Sasha.

In the photo, Lisbon was glancing up and to the left, a slight grin on her lips. Jane wasn't quite looking at her anymore and had an expression hard to pinpoint on his face.

"Jane," she began, looking between the letter and photo, "I'm still confus - "

"Fascinating," Jane mumbled.

As a general rule, when Jane mumbled things like that you should quickly find what he was looking at. When Lisbon looked up, she was blinded by the flash of a… camera? She blinked rapidly.

"Patrick Jane," she burst out furiously. "You delete that right now!"

"Wow," Jane said, ignoring her to look at the small screen on the shiny blue (of course) camera he was holding. "Redgrave was right. I wasn't sure, seeing how irksome he is, but I'm glad I ordered this. Smile, Lisbon!"

Another flash of irritating light and Lisbon was on her feet and after Jane in an instant.

And that was how Jane came to have a camera (and discover how camera shy Lisbon was).

Sometimes I wonder if I purposefully try to make things difficult for myself. I'm doing Camp NaNo in August, but posting this now. How bright is that? There's still roughly 5 chapters left for this too... So by next week I'll still have to edit the next chapter and work on my NaNo novel. *headdesk*

Anyway, review please! :)

-SS