Author's Note: I'm finally better! Score. Prepare yourself for better... or at least faster, updates. And have no fear, I never leave anything unfinished.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Mentalist and would not be foolish enough to claim to.

Third Period Art was so charged now, he wanted to laugh. Instead of Teresa being oblivious to him up at the front of the class and he silently trying to keep his eyes off her and on his work, things had changed.

Their eyes kept meeting over their easels, grinning at each other like fools before looking away in a hurry, abashed by their own reactions. He couldn't stop smirking even when he looked back at his work. The slight blush that passed up her cheeks every time was too adorable. He could barely concentrate on the expanse of white paper before him. Cradled in his fingers, the soft, brittle charcoal he was still working with was almost warm to the touch, just waiting to rub more of it's black mark on the paper.

Frankly, he couldn't help himself. She reminded him the of the material too much.

Dark swathes set in slight curls stained the paper, meant for her hair. Deep, penetrating jabs for her eyes, nose and mouth. The way her shoulders sometimes slumped with shyness. Her ears... he paused. He'd never actually seen her ears. He looked up again and caught her looking at him too.

She peered back at her work furtively.

He grinned, a warmth wrapping around his insides. Right. Ears hidden by her hair it was. He added ears to the mental list of things to learn about the fascinating creature at the front of the class, mindlessly trying to get his marks to look anything like her.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped a little in shock. He'd been too distracted to even notice anyone come up behind him.

"Patrick." Mrs. Frye bent to whisper near his ear, her curly hair tickling his cheek. "We have few rules here. But, usually I discourage people from even trying to draw their classmates. It helps keep bullying to a minimum."

He flushed, but put on his best smirk, peering at the pretty woman out of the corner of his eye. "You think it actually looks like someone?"

His art teacher leaned back away a little and squinted at the paper. Her voice remained at a quiet murmur. "Well, I'll admit, if I hadn't seen for myself that you haven't taken your eyes off my TA for the better part of an hour, I probably wouldn't know who it was. However..."

"Then no one else needs to know, right? My drawing isn't hurting anybody." He reasoned, looked up at her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. Not quite a glare, but not exactly friendly either. Quite suspicious actually.

"I'm not the bullying type Mrs. Frye." He assured her, and looked back at Lisbon, heart swelling again. "Nothing could come close to the real thing anyway."

That clearly startled Mrs. Frye. She stared at him wide-eyed.

It had the same effect on him. He stared at his paper for a moment. Then he blushed, wondering what on earth had made him say that. He never had this problem before he'd met Lisbon.

The hand returned to his shoulder momentarily. "Next time, pick another subject please. However tempting it may be."

He nodded, taking the concession without further comment. He didn't want to make a complete idiot of himself. His embarrassment was sharp, like an icicle in his lungs, but when he looked up and Teresa's lips tilted in another embarrassed smile, he felt the feeling flee faster than it had arrived.

:)

Lunch was just as noisy as usual. Jane stood near the entrance to the cafeteria, looked over the crowd. Rigsby and Cho were talking to each other, though he had no idea what those two could have in common. Van Pelt was laughing at another jock, the O'laughlin kid he recognized from his first period and Rigsby's football team doing some kind of weird face in her direction.

James wasn't anywhere in sight.

Jane peered among the people, but couldn't spot him. Which was odd, because they'd gotten into a routine of sitting together every day at lunch and James usually beat him there. He turned and almost ran straight into who he'd been looking for.

Lisbon's little brother didn't do more than glance at him, before moving over to their table and sitting down a little stiffly.

Confused by his behavior, Jane followed. Slowly, he took the seat across from the kid, letting his tray slid into place without looking away from James' face.

Because there was a split in his lower lip. It was scabbed over, surrounded be a deep color of blue. A bit of a bruise.

It looked painful.

Sure enough, James grimaced as he took a bite of his food and his spoon scraped against the healing cut.

Rubbing his hands down his jacket front, Jane cleared his throat. "Uh, hey-"

Blue-green eyes looked up at him.

He felt awkward. Wanting to know more about what had happened was a lot different than asking, especially as he wasn't sure if asking would make things worse or not between them. He didn't want to alienate the kid and it wasn't just because he liked his sister. "You okay?" He finished lamely.

An odd, dismissing tilt of the kids head was his answer.

His next breath was both a sigh of relief and frustration, not that James seemed to notice.

They both turned their attention back to their food.

Abruptly, it dawned on Jane why Lisbon had seemed to hesitate this morning when he'd asked about the rest of her weekend. Obviously it had been anything but good. Not if her little brother looked like that.

A flash of fear shot through his insides. Did Teresa have a bruise like that? Maybe somewhere he couldn't see? His stomach curdled at the thought of her hiding something that painful. He tried to think back on their morning exchange and their art class. Had he missed something? Had she tried to tell him? Or had she specifically been hiding anything?

It made him feel sick to think that he had missed something like that. He pushed his tray of food away, barely eaten. His appetite had fled. He needed to find her. Talk to her. Make sure she was okay. He looked around. Like usual, she was nowhere to be seen. That left only..."James."

The kid looked up at him again. "What?"

"Where does your sister eat lunch?" He tried to keep his tone from showing his panic.

Surprised, James sat back a little. "She usually goes to Tommy's school."

Jane blinked. "Every day?"

James shrugged, suddenly looking a little uncomfortable. "Close to it. Tommy has some problems staying out of trouble. Reese bein' there seems to calm him down. Helps him get through the rest of the day without getting himself expelled."

Great. Jane deflated. Now he had to wait till their English class to get rid of this knot in his stomach. He dropped an elbow on the tabletop and tried to keep his disappointment off his face.

"It was something our mom used to do for us."

Looking up sharply, Jane almost thought he'd misheard. Neither of the Lisbon's usually talked about their home life, much less their mother.

Head tilted down toward his food, James murmured while picking at his plate. "She was a nurse and she was always really busy, but she'd take the time during her lunch breaks to come see us. Maybe sit with us in the car or outside. Even when Reese started going to a different school- she'd alternate. I liked sitting underneath the elm tree near the elementary school best. It was so... We'd sit in silence, or talk about anything. Always felt like we could talk about anything there. Like it was magical." The kid shook his head, as though shaking away his melancholy thoughts. Shaking her memory away, because it was too painful. "So Reese does that. So that Tommy has something like that too. He doesn't remember our mom much. He wasn't even in school, too young when-" He cut off abruptly. His hand released his spoon so it clattered against the tray. Just as suddenly, he stood up. "'m not hungry. I'll see ya later man."

Jane watched him go, aching keenly for his young friend. He knew what it was like, to lose someone so important to you. Whatever had happened to her.