A/n Thank you for all the comments/reviews on the first part, they were all so kind. I'm glad people have taken to the overall idea of this fic because it has been a nightmare to write haha.

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Therapy – Like Father Like Son

He almost didn't get out of his car. The nausea he was experiencing was so extreme as he gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter. He knew Lisbon could tell before she left for work this morning that there was a slim chance that he wouldn't go through with it. He tossed and turned all night, supportive touches and reassuring kisses only helping a small bit. It has been so long since he has had to speak about what happened to his family, properly, in depth, he isn't even sure how much he has said to her before. Most of her knowledge is from SacPD police reports.

When he kissed her this morning, he lingered a little more than usual, almost like it was a promise that he was going to try his best to do better, to be better. She threaded her fingers of one hand through his curls and held him there, and with the other she led his own hand to her bump. They didn't need to say anything to each other, enough was said through their actions. "How are you feeling today Patrick?" Dr Mary Bailey breaks through his thoughts, forcing him to come back to the present. A week since his first visit and he is back for his first proper session, and he did get out of his car. "Nervous?"

"Slightly." This is a lie, he is more than nervous, he is scared about what can of worms this session could open.

The redhead smiles at him, and he can tell that she knows that his statement was a fib, but she doesn't fight him on it. Instead, she opens her notebook in preparation for the hour session. "I thought we could talk a little bit about your childhood first if that's okay?"

Jane's childhood could probably be described as undesirable. It was chaotic at times, he had no stability, no schooling to speak of and his father wasn't exactly the best role model. The carny life was an odd one because yes, if you weren't with the show then you were a mark, but to his father, Alex Jane, everyone, including so-called friends, were marks. He promised himself as a young teen that he would never be like him, but then he sort of became him for a short time. But he didn't know any other way.

He was the Boy Wonder from the moment he could talk. At first it was cheap tricks led by his father but him, being a cute young boy with bouncy curls brought in the crowds and therefore the money. There was nothing to stop him from being used by his father like this, his mother left them when he was a small toddler, ran away with the bloke who used to sell popcorn and other confectionary. He doesn't remember his mother, or the man she supposedly ran off with. It never bothered him as much as it probably should have done because he just told himself, from a young age, that she didn't want anything to do with him so he should be thankful that there are people around him who do. "That's a very mature attitude for a young child." The therapist comments and he shrugs.

"You have to grow up quick on the carny circuit." He kind of just went along with everything he was told, so they could survive. Sometimes he enjoyed the travel, being able to explore new places was interesting and he was a bright kid, even without his schooling, so he liked being able to learn new cultures. Even though he hated his act and deceiving people, he also didn't know any other way. Maybe that's why it was so difficult to leave it all behind, even after he left.

Being the fake psychic, the guy who knew all, was his life. He had no qualifications or prospects. Even though he and Angela wanted to leave the carny life behind, they needed to make money, so he did in the only way he knew how. "Angela?"

He didn't even realise he said her name out loud. He has definitely been rambling for the past few minutes, probably down to anxiety and being uncomfortable, but she has obviously managed to follow him. "My err… ex-wife. Red John he…" He decides not to say anymore, he doesn't need to, and she hums.

"How did your father react to you leaving the carny life?"

"You see that guy there." A young Patrick Jane points to a man wearing a bowler hat in the distance, queuing to buy food from a stall. "I bet you he orders a bottle of beer and some chips."

"What's the stake?" Angela asks with a giggle leaning closer to her best friend in attempt to get a better look of 'the mark'.

"How about if I guess correctly, then you let me take you out for dinner tonight?" He suggests and a blush paints her cheeks making him grin.

"Dinner? How fancy…" He has been building up the courage for several months now to ask her out, they've grown closer and closer as the weeks go on, their shared dislike for the life they live being at the forefront of their conversations. Maybe, one day they will leave. "You're on."

They have known each other for quite some time, their families are friends and they've got on since they were young but as they both transitioned from being children to adolescents, a new type of liking for each other blossomed. Actually making the move felt so difficult though, like if it went wrong then it would ruin everything. Patrick no longer thinks like that because he's older now, he knows that his life is in his hands. "Come on man in the bowler hat." He leans forward, eyeing up the man, hoping his prediction is correct.

But he never finds out. The sound of his name being called repeatedly, urgently, forces him to tear his attention away.

It is Pete Barsocky who eventually finds the young man with golden curls sat at the top of the hill with his love interest and Patrick knew from the grave look on his friend's face that whatever it is, isn't good. "I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"I'm sorry." He apologises with a frown as he clumsily gets to his feet. "Is everything okay?"

"No Patty, it isn't." Pete puts a hand on his shoulder as a way of comfort before even uttering the solemn three words. "It's your father."

"How old were you?"

"Seventeen. Almost an adult…" It was strange, the day he lost his dad. The man had a heart attack suddenly, passed on his own whilst setting up some chairs in their tent, ready for their act the following day. "He didn't live a healthy lifestyle. Smoked and drank a lot, never touched a piece of fruit or vegetable in his life." He didn't grieve like perhaps people were expecting. He was just so shocked that suddenly he was alone… luckily, he wasn't for long. He then had Angela. "He wasn't the best of men, but he made sure I was fed and clothed. There was a short time when I was twelve, he spent some time inside for a failed con and I was placed into care, and I realised then that even though I hated him at times he was my father and I also loved him."

Suddenly Jane gets the feeling like he has said too much, poured his heart out to the wrong person. He wishes it was Lisbon sat in front of him whilst he speaks so candidly, but he also knows that it wouldn't be fair to burden her with so much baggage. That's what having a therapist is for. But perhaps later he will tell her some elements about what he has disclosed today. Dr Bailey sees his shoulders tense almost a mile off. "It is totally normal Patrick, having moments when you feel like you've said too much."

"Currently though I am doing a lot of talking and you're not doing a lot of therapy-ing." He retorts.

"Me listening to you is a big part of the process. Once I fully understand your problems, I will start suggesting solutions."

"We could be here a while."

"That's okay."

"You would say that. I am paying you after all." He's becoming frustrated now, that much is obvious, he's never really been the most patient man after all.

His therapist leans back in her chair and cocks her head at him, as if she is trying to read his innermost thoughts. He knows that isn't possible, even if he did make quite a good living pretending it was for some time. "So you left the carny life with Angela?" She asks, moving on from his earlier gibe with ease. She's used to her patients becoming defensive.

After his father's death, he hung around for over a year more, not leaving until he was nineteen. He surprised himself for staying so long but he felt lost, like he had no idea what he could do next. It was his girlfriend, who then became his wife at twenty, who persuaded him that leaving was the best thing for them and he was so glad that they did. Things may have been difficult initially; they were living off nothing and their prospects weren't the greatest but at least they had each other.

However, when things didn't look like they were getting better, he turned back to his showman ways and became a fake psychic once more. It was never meant to be forever, but when the money started to roll in, he couldn't stop. She wanted him to, but he was blind sighted by the fame and the lush lifestyle. He regularly tried to persuade his wife that it was for the best, that he was doing it for them and for Charlotte, but he knew that she wasn't stupid. He was more like his father than he previously thought. "Tell me about Charlotte."

Some days Jane thinks he could talk about Charlotte until the sun goes down and the rest of the city sleeps, but other days it is too hard. As time has passed it has become easier, Lisbon can see that because he now more casually talks about his daughter than he did when they first met. Back then it was just too painful. Whenever he reminisced about her it was sometimes pleasant at first but then the memory of her murdered flashes in his mind and suddenly, he has to stop. "She was perfect. Bright, beautiful… my little girl." His face twists in pain and he has to force himself to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Patrick, you're home!" Angela exclaims, with a smile as wide as she could manage. He's been away for almost two weeks on business, travelling to clairvoyant conventions in New York and Florida. He's home now though and she's not only very pleased but relieved, she has been waiting eagerly for his return because she has great news to share.

He walks in clutching a paper under the arm of his shiny suit, his hair slicked back and an air of importance around him. She knows that he's letting the fame get to him, but she still loves the man underneath. He is a good man really. His greed doesn't define him. "There's some great property listings in here." He indicates to the paper. "A few in Malibu."

"Malibu?" She can't hide her shock. "I didn't realise we are doing that good."

"We are." He chuckles, somewhat smugly. "How are you my dear?"

"I'm good. I'm good." He watches her eyes nervously dart down to her feet. "We may want to hold off spending all our money for a bit…"

Charlotte wasn't planned, he definitely wasn't expecting to have a child in his early twenties, but it was one of the greatest gifts he was ever blessed with. And then she was cruelly taken from him, with his wife, and a part of Patrick Jane died that day with them. "It was my fault." His statement is out of the blue and makes Dr Bailey furrow her brow.

"What was?"

"The murders of my wife and daughter." He declares, like it is the most obvious thing in the world. "I incensed a very bad man and he punished me for it."

He remembers vividly, the feeling of dread at the pit of his stomach when he read the note taped to the door. Red John was right in some ways, he may have not been a real psychic, but he knew what waited for him on the other side of the door. He knew the woman he loved, and his darling daughter were dead, as soon as he started to read the serial killer's message. Maybe he shouldn't have opened the door, maybe he should have just rung the police and asked them to look so the images weren't intensely imprinted on his mind for the rest of his life. No other sight would ever horrify him more and he's seen some horrifying things through his work. Even dead and butchered, he could see the fear in his wife's eyes. She was terrified, they both probably were and that's something he has had to live with. "It's all my fault." He chokes and drags both of his hands down his face, suddenly feeling very overawed.

The redhead leans forward, wanting to place a hand on his knee in attempt to calm him but she knows that probably would not be wise. He needs to be able to deal with this, it has been years since their deaths, and she can see that he still hasn't got to grips with that. He can't keep hiding from his emotions. "Patrick, it isn't your fault."

"It is." He asserts. "I went on TV, gloated about how I was helping the police get a read on him and my family paid the price. I was cocky, arrogant, and so stupid." His voice is raised now but she knows his anger isn't aimed at her but at himself, that much is obvious.

"Red John was an evil man who had many victims. Did all his victims have family members rile him up? No. He just killed them randomly." Since their first session, she did some research about the serial killer and about his eventual demise at the hands of her newest client. She may have expressed last week that she prefers not to do internet research on her patients, but she realised very quickly that this is a complicated case, and she probably needs the preparation. "Even if you hadn't spoken about him on TV, he could have still murdered them."

"You don't know that."

"And you don't know that he hadn't planned to kill them anyway." She firmly retorts and he glances down at his hands ringing together, hoping to find some poise. "Theorising about the man's actions is pointless. No-one knows but him why he did what he did and torturing yourself trying to understand is not worth your time or headspace when he is dead." They can't exactly ask him. Definitely the biggest con of taking his life away but he still has no regrets. "So how about whenever you think that your about to spiral into these thoughts, try your best to keep busy."

Fortunately, he's very busy at the moment. Rushing to get the new house remodelled before the baby arrives. It is a big task when doing it mainly by yourself, especially since now Lisbon is no fit state to do any strenuous tasks. She's five months pregnant next week. Over halfway in the pregnancy.

When she arrives home from work, another day of desk duty that has become her life since revealing her impending motherhood to Cho, she finds her husband in the kitchen cooking their dinner. She can tell as soon as she walks in that today has been hard, the therapy session was difficult and now he's feeling vulnerable and a little overwhelmed. He sends her a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes and she's immediately striding towards him to engulf him in a loving hug. She senses him sink into it and she rubs his back in attempt to soothe him. "Tough day?' She asks, although she already knows the answer.

"Yeah." He confesses and pulls away so he's able to plant a soft kiss on her forehead, all while his hand brushes her bump. It is important for him to try and stay in the moment, he didn't need his therapist to tell him that, it is kind of common sense. "We talked about my dad, leaving the carny life and what Red John did to Angela and Charlotte." He explains with a sigh, and he doesn't need to say anymore.

"That sounds heavy." She then gently kisses him on corner of his mouth, using both hands to keep his face still. He relishes the touch and presses himself into it. "Do you want some alcohol-free beer?" What he wants is something much stronger but showing solidarity with his pregnant wife, they've not had any alcohol at the condo.

"Sure." He lightly chuckles and watches as she makes her way to the fridge in search of two bottles. His eyes linger on her for a few seconds, how her blouse is wearing a little tight so he can catch a glimpse of her swollen belly between it and her maternity suit pants. They're going to have a child and although that doesn't make up for the horrors of his past, they are in the past and there is nothing he can do to change them. His future though, that's in his hands and he's excited.

Very excited.

A/n Episodes flashbacked:

None lmao