A/N: This is my first Mentalist fic. I came up with this idea a while ago but luckily it doesn't have any specific info and therefore could have made sense in the timeline before or in the timeline now. It doesn't reference any specific episode.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Something

Lisbon surveyed the new crime scene but something nagged at her in the back of her mind. Something that had nothing to do with the dead drug dealer in front of her and everything to do with the man standing beside her. Jane was being his usual smiling, perceptive, obnoxious self but something, something was different about him. She had no idea what it was: he seemed normal, but there was something. And it was bugging the hell out of her.

She scowled down at the victim; nothing with Jane was ever simple. She considered just asking him but she had a feeling he would simply deny it, somehow turn it around and tease her or something else along those lines. She needed to bide her time until she had more information. Yes, waiting would be the best way to go. Patrick Jane was a man who needed to be treated with caution, preferably from a safe distance; a very safe distance.

No one else on the team seemed to notice anything was up with Jane, though it was hard to say. She was pretty sure that Rigsby didn't notice anything different, focused on the case at hand and any stray thoughts most likely focusing on the redhead across from him. Cho was impossible to read, per usual. Van Pelt was focused on the case, disgust toward the drug dealer conflicted with the need for justice of a murder. There was also the additional distraction of Rigsby, all which accumulated to her having no extra time to notice whatever subtle change had come over Jane.

The rest of the day continued as it usually did: Jane caused trouble, Van Pelt did computer research, Cho interviewed and Rigsby did paperwork. She tried to repair relations with the latest person Jane had managed to alienate. Once she finished talking the offended party out of trying to cause physical harm to Jane, she went to her office, tired.

As she passed the entrance to the bullpen she noticed that her team was looking at Jane who had vacated his couch to go over to them. He seemed to be explaining something, his back was to her but judging his, along with the others, slightly hunched posture, she guessed that he was proposing another one of his crazy schemes that somehow seemed to end up working ninety-nine percent of the time. She sighed: while she was glad he helped close cases, she still disliked the questionable nature of his plans and the mess they caused her after their inevitable conclusion.

She decided not to make her presence known. Rigsby and Van Pelt were voicing concerns but she knew they weren't seriously considering his proposal because neither of them had glanced at her office to see if she was watching yet. Jane continued trying to convince them to go along with him, while divulging as little information as possible, and now began employing hand gestures. She rolled her eyes at his enthusiasm before she frowned, eyes narrowing in on him. The voice in the back of her mind was clamoring for attention, exclaiming that whatever had been bothering her should be obvious now.

And then, she saw it. Her eyes went wide and it was all she could do to stop from gasping or making some other appropriate sound. Her gaze was focused on his left hand. There, on his finger, was only a tan line to show that he used to wear a wedding ring. He never took the ring off; that she knew very well. She didn't pay that much attention to it and he only drew attention to it when the odd woman asked him out and he claimed marriage as a way of turning her down, But she had always been aware of the fact that he considered himself still married. She expected him to continue wearing it until after Red John was caught. In fact, she had thought he would wear it for long after that, perhaps for the rest of his life.

The idea that he would take it off was such an alien thought that she continued to stare at his bare finger, just to reassure herself it really wasn't there. Even so, the possibility she was imagining things seemed more likely. She quickly closed her mouth, but kept her eyes focused on him, wondering what could have prompted this abrupt change. Though perhaps it was only abrupt to her and he had been thinking about it for a long time.

The thought stirred up a bunch of feelings for her. Lisbon couldn't deal with this now. She needed to hold them back until she was in private. She tried to compose herself and decided to try and focus on other things, like whatever Jane was planning at the moment. Should she stop it or not? It's a bit early in the game for a Jane scheme, she decided. Grace glanced over at her a few seconds later and froze; obviously surprised and previously unaware she was there. This caused Cho and Rigsby to pear around Jane and see her as well. Cho remained impassive as always, while Rigsby copied Grace and froze.

Lisbon raised her eyebrows, clearly communicating "do you really think you should be doing this?". Jane turned around and saw her disapproval which caused him to smile in return. She shook her head and went back to her office. She decided to wait and process this after the case was done. She buried herself in work, putting that thought process on hold but resolving to contemplate what this meant later, preferably at home and far away from Jane.

After a few hours the team had made headway with their research and believed they had found the warehouse where the victim had stashed his drugs. They coordinated a raid and caught another drug dealer and his henchmen trying to steal the deceased's drugs. In fact, most of the evidence pointed toward this drug dealer for being the one responsible for the others death.

Lisbon called for the local PD to haul them away after the team had apprehended them. She assigned Rigsby, Van Pelt, and Cho to load the crates of drugs into the car as evidence. Jane came in when they started loading now that the chase and such were over. He surveyed the rest of the team as they began to pick up the large crates to take back to CBI. They glared at him as he talked, making no move to assist them, not that they really thought he would.

Lisbon finished up with the local PD quicker than expected and came over. She noticed Jane standing idly by and the self-assured way he acted, confident he wouldn't have to help. She scowled: that simply wouldn't do. "Jane!" she said sharply, and he turned to look at her. She gestured towards the rest of the team, "Don't just stand there. Help!"

His eyebrows lifted in surprise, "But..." he feebly protested.

She glared, "Look Jane, we're a team and all team members help out. Besides the quicker we get this done the soon we can go home." She saw he was going to continue to protest, this time with an actual excuse.

"You aren't helping," he pointed out to her.

"I will now that I finished with the local PD." She took off her jacket and grabbed a box. She noticed he hadn't moved after she straightened. "Now, Jane!" she ordered.

He sighed before removing his own jacket. She nodded and brought her own crate back to the truck they were using to transport the evidence back to the CBI. As she went back to get another crate, she saw Jane heading this way carrying his own. She smirked, glad she had been able to convince him, especially since she'd been half sure that he wouldn't actually do it. As she passed him she noticed something.

The way he was carrying the box pulled on his shirt, making it tighter than normal, and she could see something. It was the outline of a chain with something circular on it. It took her a second to realize what it was. It must be his wedding band – he was wearing it around his neck now, instead of his finger. In a way she was almost relieved – it was too weird that he would take it off completely. This still meant something was up; it was merely a more conceivable something.

Luckily the few seconds it took her to figure out what it was around his neck was enough time for him to pass her and therefore he hadn't been able to see her face when she realized what it was. She didn't know how he would react to her knowing about the change. Perhaps he already knew that she knew, perhaps he didn't think she would be able to tell, perhaps he didn't want her to know, perhaps he did.

She shook her head: Jane was just too unpredictable to know what was really going through his mind unless she confronted him about it and the more she thought about it the more she decided that she wasn't going to say anything. If he wasn't going to mention it, neither was she.

Too many hours later, she opened the door to her home. She flicked on the light, put down her things and made her way into the kitchen for a midnight snack – she hadn't eaten since…well, she couldn't really remember and that probably meant she was due for some nourishment. After she procured her nourishment she went over to her couch. She set it down on the table and went to the stereo to turn on some music. As she settled back down onto the couch the thoughts she had been holding back all day swept over her like water escaping from a vanished dam.

Question after question filled her mind. Did this mean he was starting to move on? What did it mean if he was? Did this mean he might not try and kill Red John in cold-blood? Was he trying to make her think he wasn't going to, so she would let her guard down? Did he know she knew? Did he want her to know? Did he think she would notice, and now think she didn't? Did he think she wouldn't notice, but now know she did?

She had too many questions and no answers. She decided to simply go with what she felt was the truth. That he was indeed moving on, one small step at a time. He had fought against it for so long but she thought that just maybe he was starting to give in. To realize that there was more to life, that people cared about him, that he would be missed, that he was important. She hoped so at least. She decided she needed to believe this was a positive development.

And it was a sane development – when the fact that he had it on chain now was revealed, she was relieved. It had truly scared her when she saw that it was gone, because he could never completely let go of her, them. But this, this was perhaps the best he could do and she was fine with that, accepted it, even understood it. After all, did she not wear her own mother's cross around neck?

She knew, better than most, that when you lose someone so close to you, someone you care about and depend on and love, that they are never truly gone. But she also knew, and it had taken years, that you need to learn how to live again. And you do – for some it takes days or weeks or months or years but you breathe because you're still here. It's difficult and sad and so very hard, but you do because, as human beings, we survive. We pick ourselves up and keep moving – even when we can't, when we don't want to – because it's instinct and part of life and our nature.

And she's so glad he's finally moving again – not just for them, but for himself. In fact, the extent of her happiness over this simple gesture frightens her a bit, because she's realizing she cares about him, that he's important to her, in ways she hadn't previously known or acknowledged. While she should be relieved that he's starting to repair himself, she feels more that just the happiness of a colleague, coworker, friend and she knows that she shouldn't and that it isn't right or good or healthy.

So once again she shuts out those thoughts, forcing herself to live in the present and not the terrifying future: it's how she's always been, ever since she was just twelve and already an adult, in many ways. Focusing on the here and now, and perhaps a few days or weeks in advance, but avoiding the distant future because it was simply too vast, too full of endless possibilities that she couldn't begin to comprehend.

She got up, put her dishes in the sink, and turned off the stereo on her way upstairs. And when she got into bed and closed her eyes, already drifting off into the realms of sleep, she did so with a small smile on her face. Because as much as she wanted to stay realistic and not think about the questionable future, part of her couldn't help it. Because maybe, just maybe, something else had changed too.

A/N: There you go. I hope I was able to keep everyone in character and the like. I would love to get reviews - as with any writer. Please let me know what you think. I will post an story that will be almost a prequel to this one that focuses on Jane, does that sound interesting? The more response the quicker I'll write it. ;)