Disclaimer: The Mentalist, its characters and universe belong to Bruno Heller and CBS. I'm only a fan, writing this for love of this TV show and personal pleasure.

A.N.: This is for 2x08 "His Red Right Hand". I don't usually do Jane's POV, but this came out rather naturally for me and I liked it. Also, drinking that much tequila while in mourning doesn't sound like such a good idea to me, so this was the result.

Loving Him was Red

Cold

As the sounds of the hummed Amazing Grace dimmed, Patrick Jane found his feet taking him up the stairs and towards the conference room of that fatal and gruesome shooting a week before. The yellow crime scene tapes were still in place as clean up had just barely started though the room had already been processed. He realized absentmindedly that he still had the tequila shot glass in his hand and put it down on top of a cabinet as he moved towards the several boxes labelled Red John. Grabbing the one closest to him, he hauled it over to the conference table and started taking out the files, going methodically through the many documents in them.

He'd been working for a while when he heard faint footsteps approaching in the hallway. The part of his brain that worked as his alert system recognized them, categorizing who approached him as non-threatening, so he remained fully concentrated, pouring over the papers in front of him.

"Hey. What you doing?"

"Lisbon?" Jane turned to her and frowned up a little in concern, as something about her voice drew his attention. He took in her appearance, noting her rosy cheeks, her slightly slumped posture as she leaned on the doorway, the glassy look in her eyes. "You're drunk."

"No, I'm not." She rolled her eyes belligerently at him.

"Yeah, you are." He continued to frown at her, mentally assessing just how much she'd had to drink that night. They'd started drinking that first bottle of tequila on their own before the rest of the team joined them, so most of it was consumed by the two of them. He also knew she'd skipped dinner, which probably contributed to her current inebriated state. "Where is everyone?"

"Oh they left," she replied airily, a casual waving hand gesture accompanying her words. "I didn't feel like going." She added with a shrug.

"Wise move, considering you're drunk and shouldn't be driving," he raised his eyebrows pointedly at her.

"Oh hush," she made another waving hand gesture and pushed off the doorway, walking up to the table to join him. "So what are you doing here?"

"I'm working. I need to catch up on the Red John case," he indicated with a hand gesture of his own at the files he'd been perusing through, as he pushed off the chair and stood next to her. "But come on, let me take you home."

"No," she frowned at him, her mouth set in a stubborn line. "If you're working, then I should be working, too."

"It's late and it's been a long week," he sighed heavily then gave her a tentative smile. "You're drunk. You should go home and sleep."

"I'm not drunk!" Lisbon protested loudly as she glared at him, her lips twisting in annoyance. "Stop saying that."

"Right," he said, his tone making it clear he didn't believe her.

This was uncharted territory, as Jane had never had to deal with an intoxicated Lisbon before. Sure, on occasion they'd shared a drink or two after work over dinner or even at the office after a few tough cases, but more often than not he was the one on the tipsy side of the scale while she was the designated driver. He'd never seen her like this. The emotional component was definitely affecting her psyche.

"Come on," he said, reaching over and putting a hand on her shoulder gently. "I think it's time for coffee."

After a tense moment when it looked like Lisbon was about to protest again she relented, allowing him to steer her away from the conference room. As they went back downstairs to the floor of Major Crimes and walked by the bullpen, Jane noticed the remains of their drinking party on the conference table, taking note of the second and equally emptied bottle of tequila.

Soon enough Lisbon was seated at one of the tables of their empty break room with Jane pouring her a cup of coffee. She raised an eyebrow as he sat down opposite her with a cup of his own.

"You're drinking coffee?" She asked him, surprised.

"Need something stronger than tea," he replied calmly. He wasn't drunk per se, or at least not as much as she was, but he could feel his sobriety level was somewhat affected by the tequila he'd had earlier. That and he wanted to keep her company─granted, she drank her coffee black while he added cream and sugar to his, but hey, he made an effort.

They lapsed into silence as they sipped from their cups. Jane watched her attentively, his eyes roaming her face as he took in her appearance. She was still a little flushed and her eyes somewhat glazed over, but the touch of hysteria that he'd detected in her before seemed to be gone now.

"Jane," she said then, her voice small as she frowned in thought at him. "Tell me the truth. What did you and Bosco talk about?"

He looked back into her eyes and remained in silence for a couple of beats as he read her. "I already told you."

"Wow, you must really think I'm an idiot," she exhaled loudly, rolling her eyes openly at him. At his raised eyebrow, she added, "I know you two were talking about Red John."

"Hmm," he murmured noncommittally, taking another sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Go ahead, deny it," she challenged him, slamming her cup down on the table loudly, her voice rising with anger. "Tell me I'm wrong, lie right to my face."

Jane maintained perfect composure, still cradling his cup with both hands as he looked her directly in the eye. For a few seconds they only stared at each other. Instead of doing as she said or trying to placate her somehow, he did neither and merely waited for her next movement.

"Would you for once tell me the truth? Why is that so hard for you to do? Huh? You tell me you trust me, you constantly ask me to trust you, yet you still keep me out. Do you know how frustrating that is?" Her green eyes were swimming in tears as she said this, but she managed to keep them from spilling over.

"Lisbon," he said tentatively, as he finally put his cup down.

"Don't. Don't you 'Lisbon' me on this," she shook her head, her cheeks growing redder. "Tell me the truth."

"He told me he loved you and that I needed to take care of you." He answered promptly, maintaining his calm tone, but his words came out clearcut, an unshameful attempt to rattle her and stop them from going down this road.

"I already know that. What else?" She volleyed back without hesitation, her eyes still shining brightly but never leaving his face, keeping him grounded to her.

"Listen to me, this is important," he said then, his words coming out in a more serious tone than he'd used so far. He could see it had the effect he'd hoped for, as she looked back at him and waited for what he was about to say unconsciously holding her breath. "If I don't tell you things, it's not because I don't want to. It's for your protection."

"Oh please," she breathed out, rolling her eyes at him almost with her entire body. "You need to stop this nonsense. I don't need to be taken care of. I'm a cop."

"That's not what I mean." His eyes searched for something in hers for a moment. "Deniability, Lisbon. Deniability."

"Oh right. Deniability." She nodded and smiled sarcastically at him. "So you keeping things from me has nothing to do with your incessant need for secrecy or your trust issues or whatever the hell is going on that you won't tell me."

"Lisbon, just let this go," he asked her quietly. "If he wanted you to know, he wouldn't have asked you to leave the room so that we could talk alone. You know that."

She took her breath in sharply and once more he could see tears in her eyes. "You know, you can really be a cold bastard."

"Yeah," he nodded in agreement readily enough.

"But I know that underneath this cold veneer," she said, her words coming out strong and clearcut, her own attempt at rattling him as she gestured at him with her hands, "this callousness and righteousness, this 'you need to think logically' crap there's someone who cares so much that it scares you."

Unexpectedly, his bluish green eyes flashed with something then and before he could stop himself the words were coming out of his mouth. "Yes, it does. Of course, it does. How could it not?"

She blinked up at him and he stared back at her, both caught by surprise by his near emotional outburst. This was the closest he'd been to being so open about anything he'd been feeling for the past week. It seemed that Lisbon hadn't counted on her words affecting him like this either so she wasn't prepared for a follow up to this, and Jane took advantage of this.

"Look, telling you won't change a thing," he said, attempting to recover his calm posture and a semblance of control of the situation, as well as effectively avoiding what he'd just said. "It won't bring him back. It won't stop you being angry with me."

"I'm not angry," she protested, suddenly feeling calm despite her earlier angry words, frowning in confusion at him.

"Of course, you're angry. I'm the reason he's dead. I'm the reason they're all dead," he said, his soft voice breaking a little on the last word and betraying his emotions once more, so he avoided her eyes and looked down at his cup.

"Rebecca Anderson is the reason they're dead. Red John is the reason they're dead," she countered, her voice firm and fire dancing in her green eyes. "Don't you dare add this to your list of things to feel guilty about. That's just what he wants."

Jane raised his eyes then and looked back at her. He could sense how strongly she felt about what she'd said, they weren't mere empty words just to make him feel better. He almost felt bad at nearly manipulating her to turn the tables on her and stop this argument.

"Anyway, I don't need you to tell me what you two talked about," she added after a moment, her voice softer. "I already know."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow at her sudden change in attitude.

She nodded slowly at him. "Bosco asked that you kill Red John when you catch him," Lisbon elaborated. Another moment passed as they only regarded each other then she shrugged matter-of-factly. "At least that's what I think. Like you said, I did know him well, and that's one reason I could think of why he'd ask to talk alone to you about Red John and that you wouldn't want to tell me."

After a moment a small smile came upon his lips. He didn't say anything to confirm or deny her supposition, merely bringing his cup back up to his lips. She also gave him just the barest of smiles as she also continued sipping her coffee. They didn't discuss Bosco's last words to either of them anymore. Lisbon reached out across the table and grabbed his hand as they finished drinking their coffees, then they left and Jane gave her a ride home.