A/N: So sorry about the delay in updating. I would have done it earlier, but I went to London, suffered from a seizure at the concert I attended (which is now under investigation) and have been exhausted ever since. Still no way near back to normal right now, alas.

Thank you to: idonthaveaname, Galxychld and fseventh for reviewing part five. It's very much appreciated.

x tromana

Part Six

Angela watched as Lisbon lightly touched Jane on the arm with two fingers. A flutter of jealousy ran through her as Jane smiled a wan smile in response to the woman's actions. When she had done the same, just moments beforehand, he hadn't even reacted. Hadn't even shivered slightly. Instead, he'd acted as if nothing had changed, as if she wasn't there at all. And yet, he was perfectly happy to receive comfort from Agent Lisbon and listen to her words of sympathy, regardless of whether or not she genuinely meant them.

If this was the afterlife, thus far, she wasn't very impressed.

Children were often told stories about heaven. How everyone they'd ever loved went there. That Nan and Pops were reunited and looking down on them. That it was peaceful, quiet and everyone had their heart's desire. And, if needs be, you could always speak to those who'd passed on. The afterlife was supposedly easy, something to look forward to after the trials endured on Earth. Angela had always believed that that was just lies. Simple platitudes to make the concept of death easier for young children to swallow. As far as she was concerned, adults simply labeled it as religion and clung onto that same childish beliefs.

However, this wasn't bliss, nor was it the burning depths of hell. Instead, it was just never ending frustration. How were people expected to continue existing without going insane when loved ones wouldn't even react to them? It was little wonder that the crazy guy who had labeled himself as the CBI Ghost had shed his name. Obviously, existence was so fleeting that there was no point in making attachments. Angela made a mental note to ask him what he believed happened to other 'ghosts' next time she saw him. After all, the impression she got was like living, breathing people, he believed that ghosts didn't stick around for long either.

He'd also said that his case had never been closed, too. Maybe it was a simple fact of unfinished business? If she wasn't in a coma and was indeed, dead, did that mean she had something to do in order to be able to 'pass over' as Jane phrased it whenever he was with a client.

Ignoring Lisbon, who was sitting to one side of Jane and Cho, who was standing behind the couch, Angela sat in front of Jane. Automatically, she reached out and rested her hand on his. As usual, he didn't respond and instead, stared at Lisbon intently as he recounted what had apparently happened the night before once more. Closing her eyes, Angela did something she had never felt compelled to do before and uttered a soft prayer. When she opened them, Jane was still looking at Lisbon, however, the brunette woman was looking warily in her general direction.

Angela frowned. That was not quite the reaction she had hoped for. However, it was better than nothing. At least it proved that she still had hope of getting through to somebody on this planet.

"Patrick," she whispered gently and tightened her fingers slightly. "Patrick, it's me. I'm right in front of you."

"Are you sure you can't tell us anything more?" Lisbon asked Jane quietly. "Even the color of his jacket would help."

"It was dark, there's not much light down that part of the river," Jane explained, but closed his eyes nevertheless. "But I think it might have been green. I'd be able to tell you more if it had been lighter…"

"Patrick, I… I love you."

When he didn't respond, she felt like bursting into tears. Angela knew just how desperate he had been to hear those three little words from her. And now she had finally mustered the courage to actually say them, she might as well have said nothing at all.

Angela stood and took two steps towards the door. Jane didn't even appear to notice that she was gone. Instead, he was discussing his interview with the two officers, in great detail. He was describing, in depth, one of the new runners and how he had thought there was something suspicious about him. That he had paid far too much attention to himself and Angela. Grumbling incoherently, she continued walking away. However, once she approached the door, somebody walked through it - literally - despite the fact it was closed and bumped into her.

"Oh, sorry. I thought somebody else lived here," the woman said by way of explanation. "They must have moved."

"How did you do that?" Angela asked, frowning.

"I'm dead. My mom and dad live - lived - here."

"I moved here a few days ago."

"I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"That you," the girl said, trailing off slightly as she spoke. "You know… so soon after moving here. This place must be cursed."

The girl turned on her heels and walked through the closed door once more. Angela attempted to follow, but instead, banged her head on the wood. Rubbing her forehead, she frowned. How come the girl could walk through closed doors and she couldn't? If she was dead, surely it was an inherent ability she should now have? She was beginning to come to the conclusion that while ghosts may well exist, it didn't necessarily mean she was one (yet). All it meant was that she was in contact with the spiritual world, which she had denied all of her life, and that those in the 'real' world had nothing to do with her any longer. Almost like some kind of psychic or spirit guide. Or something, anyway.

This required some more serious thought.

xxx

Lisbon allowed her fingers to run over her cross. Her mom had given it to her two days before she'd died and since then, she had worn it every single day. She liked to think that as long as she had it with her, her mom was always standing beside. Always keeping watch and making sure her only daughter was safe. Or at least, as safe as she could be, given her job description. The Kingdom of God had welcomed her mother with open arms, albeit too soon, and that was something Lisbon had had to accept. Life didn't require explanations, you just had to learn to go with it.

She'd gotten over her childhood tragedy and therefore, she was convinced that Patrick Jane would be able to get over this one too. After all, if his image online was anything to go by, he was made of pretty strong stuff.

When she realized that Jane was observing her with interest, she dropped the necklace immediately. She had known from her research that he was a supposed psychic, or at least, he had an uncanny way of working things out about people. Who knew just how much she had told him, just by doing that single comforting gesture? But she couldn't help it; she was beyond exhausted. Lisbon often had a habit of fiddling with it whenever she was alone; it was just now, she was so tired that she was quite comfortable doing it in public as well.

She had listened with interest to exactly what Jane had made of the incident. In all honesty, apart from the simple fact that the man hadn't accepted Jane's offer of money, it sounded like a mugging gone wrong. Still, she had noted down everything that she could. Though he hadn't been able to offer her a detailed description of his attacker thanks to poor lighting and the clothing the man had been wearing, he had been able to recall quite a few details about the man's voice. However, that wasn't always of use. It was always harder to track down somebody based on a vocal recollection rather than physical. You couldn't draw up an image of what somebody looked like based on their voice.

"Mr. Jane, you work as a psychic, yes?"

"Yes, but I'm leaving the business."

"You are?"

"Yes. I'm going to consult for-"

"-the CBI, I know."

"You do?" he answered, looking uncharacteristically stunned for half a second.

"You were going to be assigned to my team," Lisbon replied.

"Oh, well, I guess this gives us an ideal opportunity to get to know each other as colleagues."

"Even if you do choose to work for the CBI still, you won't be working this case," she said stiffly.

"Why not? My fiancée was killed as a result," Jane retorted angrily, "if anyone has the right to-"

"It means you're a victim, not an investigator," she stressed.

"I'm not the victim, Angela was!"

His tone was bitter and Lisbon flinched in response. It was obvious that Jane had taken the word victim literally and seen it in black and white, rather than acknowledging the gray area in between. Just because he hadn't been the one shot to death, it didn't mean that the incident hadn't had repercussions on him. Lisbon understood all too well that it was something that was going to stay with him for the rest of his life, but Jane was in denial. He couldn't admit to it having a detrimental effect on him, not when it had cost Angela Ruskin her life. She bit on her tongue when it came to retorting; it was only going to make the situation worse.

"What Agent Lisbon means is that it is against CBI regulations for any member of staff to work on a case which they are directly linked with."

"Thank you, Cho," Lisbon replied, gratefully.

"Sounds more like waffle and excuses to me."

"That's still the CBI procedure, I'm afraid."

"Right, so you wanted to know more about my practicing as a psychic?" he said, swiftly changing the subject.

"If you don't mind?"

"Is there any angry clients out there who might, for some reason, wish harm upon you or the people you love?"

"No."

"Can you be sure of that?" Cho interjected.

"No."

"If possible, could we have a copy of your client list?"

It didn't take long to come back with two discs of data, which he promptly handed to Lisbon. She quietly thanked him, relieved that he was being co-operative. At least he seemed to understand that their questioning was simply protocol, that it wasn't them wasting time when they could be 'out there catching killers,' as some people thought.

"I will get them back, won't I?"

"Eventually."

"Good."

"Mr. Jane, as a psychic, is there any way of you contacting Angela, now that she's…"

Lisbon trailed off. She had been cringing as she'd asked, but she had felt the need to. After all, it wasn't every day that the significant other of a murder victim was a psychic. And besides, if he wasn't lying through his teeth about it, as she had suspected all of yesterday afternoon, it may well provide some useful information. If he had contact with the afterlife, then maybe, just maybe, she would have been able to pass information onto them. It was a long shot, but Minelli had said that she ought to think outside of the box when it came to Jane's placement on her team.

And maybe he would have half a chance of explaining why the hell she had thought she had heard Angela in the early hours of this morning.

"Ah, Agent Lisbon, Agent Cho. There's a reason why I'm leaving the psychic business."

"And that is?"

"Real psychics don't exist. I'm a conman, a fraud," he explained, keeping his tone surprisingly light. "Angela wanted me to do some good in my life. So, that's exactly what I'm going to do."

"Excuse me?"

"I trust you both to keep that information confidential, of course."

xxx

Like beforehand, Angela hitched a ride back to the CBI headquarters with Cho and Lisbon. She didn't know anywhere else she could go. However, she did know that she would be able to find the one person who seemed happy to help her and that was the CBI Ghost. Perhaps, if she told him that she believed she was a ghost too, then maybe he would be willing to help her out, instead of just giving her infuriating little hints.

In a way, the man reminded her a bit of Jane. Or at least, the Jane she saw whenever he took to the stage or in front of the cameras. It seemed like this strange man back at the CBI headquarters was the kind of person to drip-feed information, to only give as much as he needed to to get what he wanted. Maybe he had enjoyed seeing her frustration at her new-found situation and was practically mocking her?

Or maybe, he just understood that this was something she could only come to terms with on her own.

As soon as they arrived at the headquarters, Angela made a beeline for the battered old couch on the third floor. When she saw the man reclining on it, she smiled slightly. It was just where she expected him to be. After all, it was a pretty damn comfortable couch and nobody else seemed to take any interest in it. She wove around the desk and the other people and quickly closed the distance between him and herself. He didn't even open an eyelid as she glared down at him. Roughly, she nudged the couch and he opened one eye to look up at her.

"Back so soon?"

"Well, where else was I supposed to go?"

"I don't know, home?"

"Went there. Patrick didn't notice me."

"Of course he wouldn't, sweetie. You're a ghost."

"So you keep saying."

The CBI Ghost swung his legs around and sat up, allowing Angela to sit beside him. She nodded her gratitude as she accepted the unspoken offer. They remained in silence as Rigsby, Van Pelt and Cho milled around them. The agents never once acknowledged their presence, something which Angela still found very disconcerting. If they just looked at them and smiled, or even just asked what they were doing there, she would have felt better. But they didn't, because, according to everyone she had spoken to (excepting Lisbon, albeit briefly), had said they were dead. That the living were just incapable of noticing because they were blind to the presence of ghosts.

"So?" he prompted.

"If I'm a ghost, why can't I walk through walls?"

"You saw somebody do that, huh?"

"Yeah. Well?"

"Were you born capable of walking and talking?"

"No, but…"

"Well then."

"It's something I have to learn?"

"Precisely."

"Teach me," she demanded.

"Why should I?" he retorted back.

Angela stood and glared at him. Why was he suddenly being so uncooperative? Earlier, he had been fine. Had been willing to answer her questions, within reason. But now, he had suddenly clammed up and was acting as if she had wronged him somehow. Was it really that much of an ask to be taught the skills he'd learned? If she was a ghost, like him, then surely it wouldn't have been that much of a problem?

"You think because you're young and pretty that you can come in here and demand things of me?" the CBI Ghost questioned angrily. "Well you've got another thing coming."

"I didn't mean-"

"You think I asked to be killed, don't you? That it was some kind of sick suicide by cop?" he suggested, his tone raising with each question. "That I deserved it?"

"No, I never…" Angela muttered quickly, desperate to placate him.

"Get out!"

"But…"

"I said… get out!" he repeated.

"I…"

"Out!"

TBC...