A/n A bit of a fat author's note before this which isn't really about this work at all.

Lately I have lost faith in my writing which is a bit soul-destroying when I use it as a coping mechanism. I think the main reason behind this is every review I have had recently – and they have all pretty much been from one account – have been negative in some way. It is fine to have criticism, I am not naïve to think my writing is amazing because it isn't but I find it confusing when this person seems to continue reading my work so they must not completely hate my style or my ideas. It is becoming too much though.

I think as well, I wrote something I am really proud of, "Comatose", and I put a huge amount of effort into that. So a part of me feels that I can never better it.

Anyway, I do appreciate your support and I hope there are elements to what I write which is liked.

This one-shot idea was formed after I had a panic at work. I started to write it as a distraction but that does mean poor Jane suffers. It is not my greatest work but despite being reluctant to post, some people have persuaded me otherwise.

/

Tangible Demons

Some cases have the ability to pull the rug from everyone's feet. Even the toughest of cops can't help but be moved by some of the horrors they have to see – and Jane isn't even really a cop.

He took one look at the crime scene, it was more of a glimpse than anything, yet he had to get out of there as soon as the first wave of nausea hit him with full force. He didn't say anything to anyone, not even to Lisbon, who is inside now trying to keep her team together, treating this like any other crime scene whilst he is sitting on the sidewalk around the corner, being shielded from sight by his car. Someone could be watching him, but he wouldn't know, his senses are stifled and heightened all at once. Sudden sounds cut through him like a sharp blade, one that could have been used during the crime that he is meant to be investigating; however his vision is restricted as black spots blot anywhere he looks, even his hands that he is holding close to his face.

He manages to focus on his wedding ring and how even in the darkness it manages to shine despite the heaviness it brings him. He squeezes his eyes shut, his heartbeat is so loud that he can hear it in his ears and his mind is causing him great pain by reminding him of not only what he has just witnessed, but also what devastation waited for him on that dreaded night all those years ago at his house in Malibu.

His lungs are hurting now, roaring with pain whenever he tries to take in a breath but that just causes them to sting. He knows what is happening, this is a panic attack, but he is Patrick Jane, and he doesn't get panic attacks. In for seven and then out for eleven, he tells himself as he tries to get some oxygen back into his chest even though breathing is almost agony. It is better than the alternative. This crime scene is difficult enough without one of his colleagues finding him, passed out on the pavement.

A touch on his arm has him abruptly gasping while opening his eyes with a start, the person removes their hand and takes a step back from him, evidently worried that they have startled him. He endeavours to home in on whoever it is, but his brain isn't on his side in this moment, and it takes him a second to recognise her boots planted just a few paces from him on the tarmac. "Lisbon?" He breathlessly questions and looks up to see her brow dipped in concern. "Sorry."

"Shh…" Lisbon hushes and slowly lowers to her knees, not caring if she gets any muck on her pants. "It's okay." She tentatively reaches forward and softly swipes her thumb over his cheekbone and it is only now that he realises that he is crying. Her other hand is rummaging in her jacket pocket, searching for a tissue but she has no such luck. "Breathe with me." So instead, she gives up on that particular quest and turns all her attention back to her struggling partner. She exaggerates her own breathing, making it loud enough for him to hear because she suspects his vision is blurred with unshed tears – he certainly is avoiding looking anywhere but her.

It makes sense to her, his moment of weakness, she just wishes that it would have occurred to her before he had to lay eyes on the tragic crime scene. The similarities to his own tragedy are all too many: a slaughtered mother and young daughter being found by the husband/father. He was sobbing in the porch when the cops arrived, shaking uncontrollably and now she is wondering how her closest friend reacted having gone through the same thing. She has obviously seen him during his low points since being at CBI, but she saw the version of Jane after months of psychiatric aid, she dreads to think how he was to get to that point. Teresa hopes this hasn't set him back and after his six-month absence this is a genuine and fair fear to have. "I should have thought, I am sorry." She finds herself saying but then notices how his eyes are now pressed shut and his hands are covering his ears, her concentration must have drifted and now she feels terrible for a completely different reason. The one positive is that his breathing has seemed to have settled a bit, but she is getting the feeling that this is because of something he is doing rather than her helping him. She should be able to help him, they're meant to be partners.

Lisbon glances around their surroundings questioning whether someone has spotted them or not but considering that there are about twenty members of law enforcement trawling the area, she is staggered that she can't see a soul. She inelegantly shifts forward slightly on her knees, so she can get closer to him and goes to touch a hand on one of his knees, which he has pulled up against his chest, hoping that she won't alarm him this time, now that he knows that she is present. Jane does flinch but it is so minute that it is barely detectable as he releases a wavered breath. "Jane." She quietly utters, aiming to draw his attention to her but he doesn't move. "Patrick." She then tries and his eyes do open so that he is staring into hers, the blue of his irises appear much duller than usual, and the whites have become bloodshot from the tears. He unhurriedly removes his hands from his ears, but he looks unsure of where to put them, so she takes them in her own without even hesitating. Maybe the warmth of her hands will help comfort him… or maybe she is wordlessly praying that it helps comfort her. This is unknown territory with him. She has seen him vulnerable before, of course she has, but he usually runs before she can get involved yet he is here, letting her in. "I've got you. It is okay."

"I'm sorry." He murmurs and scrunches up his features in both shame and stubbornness – he doesn't want to cry in front of her anymore.

"Shh, don't apologise." She is immediately stating, not wanting to hear it. He is permitted to not be strong all the time, in fact it is good to see that he is able to express some difficult emotions without bottling them all up. "I know you push me away…" Her comment has him quickly becoming aware of their current predicament, it is sobering, and not necessarily in a good way. "But I am here for you. Okay?"

The truth is that before his six-month hiatus, he realised that he let her get too close and that his feelings for her were becoming almost rampant. It had turned perilous, their friendship, and he greatly worries about what Red John would do if he knew. When he came back with a plan to get rid of him, he allowed his walls to fall and his mask to slip out of place, he told her that he loved her but that was a mistake. It is unsafe for her to love him, tonight has proven that. Red John may have not committed this crime, but it has served as a reminder of what happens to people who get close to him. They die. More than that, they get destroyed. Still, he nods, agreeing with her, because currently he hasn't got the energy to cause her pain – she has enough on her plate with this massively distressing case. "This is so unprofessional." He criticizes himself and gazes up at the sky, gently hitting the back of his head on the pale blue door of his Citroën.

"Since when do you care about professionalism?" She teases, in desperation to lighten the mood but his silence tells her that it has completely backfired. Lisbon sighs. "Jane it is okay to feel something. There isn't a single cop around this place who doesn't feel sick to their stomach right now and that is without having been through something so awful like you have." His focus begins to draw back to her and although his expression is etched with anguish, she believes it is softening which is enough to drive her on. "I'm trying to work out what is more dangerous, me letting you work this case or giving you the time off so you can obsess about Red John." To her it looks that either way she is going to lose and have a big pile of mess to clear up later, whether it is in a week's time or a year or however much longer it is going to take for them to catch the notorious serial killer.

"I want to work the case." His response surprises her, she doesn't think he has ever chosen anything else over his quest for vengeance before. It is definitely a first. "That poor man has to have answers." And suddenly, she understands.

"I don't know Jane." She shakes her head and straightaway he is huffing.

"You're worrying about me for no reason." He attempts to persuade but if the bemused look on her face is anything to go by, she is not convinced. Jane has to dig deep, find some courage from somewhere to really put forward his thoughts just so she lets him in on the case. His cold shoulder will have to wait until after. "It isn't that I can now see my wife and daughter dead whenever I close my eyes, that was happening anyway..." He gravely admits, the honesty taking her back whilst she thinks that she feels her heart breaking. "But I can now see someone else's wife and daughter too." He hasn't even met the bereaved husband and father, but he is already putting himself in his shoes, because he can all too easily. "He is never going to be able to move on. His dreams will always be nightmares, his wedding ring will feel heavy on his hand, and he will carry his guilt everywhere." The more he reels, the more Lisbon's anxiety for him grows and she is starting to question whether his fake breakdown that had him leaving CBI, was all that fake after all. She needs to keep an eye on him, if he lets her. "Guilt that he wasn't around to protect them."

Jane very rarely gives her any idea of what goes on in his head, but when he does it seems ground-breaking. "Is he alright?" She abruptly hears at their side and in unison they turn to glance at Cho whose face may be stoic, but the slight – however barely detectable – urgency in his tone says that he is just as much concerned as she is.

The consultant looks back to her, silently pleading that she makes some excuse, but she doesn't plan to be dishonest to her team, especially Cho who is like a brother to her. "No, he's not." She reveals and promptly he sharply exhales, expressing his disappointment, but she chooses to ignore it. "I need to take him…" Somewhere, she doesn't know where. Home, is what she wanted to say, but he doesn't really have one and if she takes him to his motel then she will just sit in her office worrying. What if he runs away again? "Cho, will you guys be okay if I leave?"

"Of course, boss."

"Can you help me get him in the car?"

Jane hates being treated in this way. Weak, helpless, a burden yet he still lets them assist him to his feet. He peers over the roof of his car back towards the house swarming with cops and now decorated with yellow police tape. He can almost sense the prying eyes of the neighbours, the nudging of the curtains and the creaking of the doors. People have no shame, he muses, whilst his friend snuggly wraps an arm round his waist, just in case he collapses as Lisbon reaches past them to open the car door. His legs are feeling a bit weak, his knees practically giving him no support at all. Cho thinks he can perceive his shakes and he must resist in frowning, not just for the mentalist's pride but because he needs to remain strong for his boss. It is his time to step up. It doesn't take much to help his friend into the car, he is a strong man and even when fragile Jane doesn't weigh a tonne. He also appears to accept his fate and just this once he is going to let them help him.

Just this once.