A/N: Okay, so I have no idea where this idea came from. Blame lack of sleep and a bout of silliness for this one. It is a loosely Christmas based oneshot that I have decided to extend into a short-ish multichapter. It is what I guess you'd call extreme AU. But I hope you like it nonetheless.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist; if I did I'd be spending Christmas in Fiji.

Serendipitous Saturation

Chapter 1 – A Safe Haven

Teresa Lisbon traipsed down the street, large puddles impeding her progress as she walked around them, her head down and leather jacket pulled tightly around her. While her sweater was saved from the worst of it, her blue jeans were soaked through and she knew she'd have to steep in a bath and scrub the dye from her legs when she made it home. The fact that the torrential rainstorm that had passed over Sacramento and had seemingly followed her for the past ten blocks had eased to a constant mizzle did not improve her mood. Trust her to have her car break down on Christmas Eve on the way back from a crime scene. Her team had all already flown or driven to their respective homes for the holidays and she had volunteered to work the end of the shift on her own. She tried to see the bright side that the man found dead an hour ago was a suicide so meant less paperwork but it was hardly something to celebrate. They were ten a penny this time of year.

Her chestnut locks drenched and no trace of the little make up she wore left on her freezing pale skin she trudged on, long given up in the hope of catching a cab. "Damn Christmas," she huffed under her breath as she watched shoppers and partygoers run past her, giddy with both kinds of Christmas spirit, oblivious to the incessant rain. She told herself just ten more blocks and she'd be home in her condo, the heating switched on and where a hot bath would await her, accompanied by a large glass of red wine. That is, if she didn't have hypothermia by then, she glumly forecasted.

She rubbed her hands together, blue from cold, checking shop fronts as she went by, looking out for a coffee shop where she could warm them for a few minutes around a hot steaming cup of Joe. But it appeared everyone had the same idea as she had and each one she passed was packed to the rafters, leaving standing room only and a queue to the door. Then she narrowed her eyes, wondering if her brain was playing tricks on her, if the downpour she'd encountered had made her have some kind of hallucination. A small diner stood in front of her suddenly, barely a customer present inside, like an oasis in the desert, festively fitted out with twinkling fairy tree lights around its windows. Probably empty as a result of the bad food it served, she told herself. But surely the coffee couldn't be that bad? And at least it looked warm and homely inside. Wasting no more time she ducked inside, a gold bell over the entrance announcing her presence.

Amid the Christmas music patrons turned around to look at her immediately and she would have blushed if her cold cheeks had allowed it. After a second where they stared her up and down they went back to their conversations or food with little interest in her. She took a step then stopped, the squelch of her boots now she was inside sounding like cannon fire to her. The glorious smells from the dishes she noted around her made her lick her lips, her stomach adding to the sound of her footsteps in agreement.

An attractive woman in her late fifties came up to her from behind the counter and greeted her with an enormous smile. "Jeez, sweetie, you look wetter than a dog's tongue!"

Lisbon frowned, the saying lost on her. "Uh-"

Before she had a chance to speak the blonde waitress had taken her arm in a vice like grip and led her to the counter. "I'll take a booth," Lisbon said as she gesticulated to the front window, but the older woman tutted and shook her head. "No, you will not, my dear. You'll sit up front beside the food warmer. I'll crank it up; you'll be toasty in no time. Now, tell me, what size are you?" She frowned as she gave her a quick onceover before nodding rapidly. "A 2 I'd say."

"Sorry?" Lisbon replied, wide eyed. She immediately decided the wacky waitress she'd just met must be partly or perhaps fully to blame for the lack of customers since the food smelled divine.

The older woman patted her affectionately on the shoulder and practically shoved her into a seat at the counter, "Don't worry, now take this jacket off, I'll figure something out for you while you get settled."

Lisbon found herself blindly doing as she was told and slipped off her jacket, hanging it off the back of her chair, utterly bewildered by what had just occurred. She felt like she'd just unwittingly been cast in an episode of The Twilight Zone. She took a breath and shook her head, drips from her dark brown curls hitting the shoulders of her red sweater and making her shiver. As if on cue the lamps on the food warmer at her right hand side began to turn from gold to orange and she felt some warmth hit her face at last. She cast her hair over her right shoulder, dragging the droplets of rainwater to its ends and using a napkin from the counter to try soaking up the excess.

"You might do better with this," a man's voice said to her left, amusement evident in his tone.

She turned her head and a blond Adonis in a slim fitting white T shirt dazzled her with a smile that made her stomach do a somersault. He paused for a second as he openly studied her, his green blue eyes seeking her emerald ones after making a quick detour to the rest of her first. "Here, try this," he said, taking a step forward and offering her a clean towel for her hair.

"Um...thank you," she said quietly, hoping she could blame the heater at her side for the sudden flush of her cheeks.

"My pleasure," he said smoothly with another smile as he leaned his elbows and crossed his arms lazily on the counter between them.

She hastily began to dry her hair and laughed nervously, "What kind of place is this? You offer towels to all your customers?"

"Only the wet ones," he replied, more than a hint of suggestiveness in his tone.

Her eyes widened at his remark and he began to laugh, "Sorry couldn't resist," he said, still chuckling softly at her shocked expression.

"I'm Patrick, by the way," he said, extending a hand to her.

"Teresa," she said, shaking it. She paused, "Though why I should tell you that after that remark, I don't know."

He held her gaze as well as her hand. "So then why did you?"

She licked her lips as her eyes darted to his full mouth opposite her. Maybe she was coming down with pneumonia and was fighting a temperature that was making her feel like some kind of giddy teenager. She pulled her hand away sharply as his finger lingered over her wrist, warming it instantly.

"Must be because I have a fever or something," she replied tersely to get a hold of herself.

He arched an eyebrow and nodded. "Of course, that must be why," he said in an assured tone that she knew meant the opposite.

She picked up the menu to focus on something other than the gorgeous man in front of her. "So, what do you recomm-"

She stopped the words just in time; realising asking that question might bring her more trouble from the man facing her who still hadn't taken his eyes off her. "What's good he-"

She rolled her eyes, suddenly everything she thought of saying sounded like an innuendo.

"You don't need the menu," he told her, taking it out of her hands swiftly and placing it behind him.

"I don't?" she asked, dumbfounded.

"Nope," he replied with a shake of the head. "I know what you need."

When he saw her eyebrows shoot up he laughed again. "And no, I'd never be so crass to say it was me you needed. Or something much smuttier, come to that."

His laugh warmed her blood more than the heat lamp beside her. Beginning to enjoy their flirtatious banter she said, "I can see why you don't have many customers if that's your attitude to them," she remarked. "Haven't you ever heard the phrase 'the customer is always right'?"

"Heard of it, of course. But it's total nonsense."

"Nonsense?" she laughed.

His eyes sparkled back at her. "Entirely. Take you, for example. You were going to order a chicken salad before I stopped you."

She blinked rapidly, "How did you know that?"

"Doesn't matter. The point is you were going to order it because it's good for you. What you really want...what you really desire, Teresa...is an enormous cheeseburger with onion rings." He'd leaned across the counter towards her as he spoke, his voice huskier with every word and the s's in her name turning into soft z's instead.

Her breathing quickened and she swallowed. "Why wouldn't I just order it then?" she just got out.

"That's an interesting question, isn't it?" he smiled. "Why don't you think about that while I get your burger? Be right back."

He sauntered into the back and she took a deep breath. She reddened when she realised why she'd bypassed the cheeseburger for the salad. She didn't want to appear to eat like a pig in front of him with ketchup dribbling down her chin. "Wise ass," she said under her breath.

Jane reached the sanctuary of the kitchen and took a breath, wiping his sweaty palms on his black jeans. What the hell had just happened out there? He'd flirted openly with the raven haired beauty at the counter. As soon as he saw her trying to dry her hair on that napkin he was entranced. And when she'd turned her head he was beckoned further with those shimmering pools of jade. Instinctively he'd just talked to her like he'd known her for years. Well, perhaps with a little extra charm and fake confidence sprinkled in so she wouldn't realise how affected he was by her, along with a little arrogance and assurance added into the mix to distract her further.

But if he believed in previous lives he would have sworn he'd met her in one. All at once he felt at ease in her company and wanted her to like him. With a few exceptions he usually didn't give a damn whether he was liked or not by anyone. But from how hard she'd tried to hide it from him he was certain she did. He hadn't talked with a woman like that since his wife died five years prior. Sure he'd been on a few dates but lacked interest in pursuing something more with any of them. He had his daughter Charlotte, his pride and joy and the only female who held his heart firmly in her tiny grasp since he'd lost Angela.

Well, he had Charlotte and the other woman in his life who he just heard call out his name.

"Patrick, are you okay?" the woman in question said as she made her way into the kitchen from the back stairs. He noticed she was carrying a pair of jeans in her hand. "Mom, really?" he said, shaking his head. "Don't tell me those are for Teresa?"

His mother's face brightened immediately. "Oh, you met her, did you?" she grinned. "I wondered what had just gotten into you. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on her that you two would hit it off."

He rolled his eyes. "I thought I used to be the fake psychic, not you, mother."

Sadness and regret suddenly filled her expression. "You know I don't like to think about those days," she said softly, extending her hand to brush a wayward blond curl from his forehead.

"I know but you can't just pretend they didn't happen," he said with affection.

"I can when it's Christmas," she argued, straightening up and planting a smile on her face again. "Now, I'll go talk you up to that lovely young woman out there while you make her something delicious to eat."

"I'm perfectly capable of talking myself up, thank you. And please don't start this matchmaking stuff again." He pointed to the pants in her hands. "And you need to stop dressing the customers."

"Oh hush," she said, raising herself on her tiptoes to peck his cheek. "It's not like you're any better, not even giving them what they order every time you feel like it or almost poisoning them if you don't like the look of them."

She bounded past him with a renewed spring in her step before he could respond.

"I can't believe your mother was able to persuade me to change into these jeans," Lisbon smiled as she ate a chunk out of one of the best burgers she'd ever had in her life as Jane sat beside her, his elbow resting on the counter and a cup of tea balanced in his other hand. After two minutes of trying to eat it delicately she'd given up much to Jane's gratification.

The jeans Alison Jane had given her fitted her pretty well around the waist when she attached her belt but she'd had to turn up the hems of them a few times to fit her height. But they were bone dry and she was glad to out of those wet ones.

By now the few customers had dwindled to just one straggler as well as Lisbon. Dirty coat and scruffy beard he looked like he didn't have anywhere but a wet doorway for company to bring in Christmas. Lisbon had noticed Jane providing him with free pie and coffee while she ate. She wasn't entirely sure if he had done that out of the goodness of his heart or to impress her. Perhaps a little of both, she figured. It warmed her heart, either way.

"I learned some time ago it was fruitless arguing with my mother over pretty much anything," Jane grinned with a long sigh, interrupting her musings.

"She really buys this stuff in charity shops?" she laughed, turning back to topic and running a hand over the jeans she was now wearing.

"She lives upstairs; believe me you don't want to see the stuff she has up there. She's a hoarder by nature. But, over time, she gets rid of most of it and has to restock. She's clothed most of the vagrants that come in here. Whether they like it or not," he added with a chuckle.

"She's a character, I'll give you that," she grinned.

He laughed again. "She is that. Like mother like son, as they say." Then he noticed the homeless man get up from his seat out of the corner of his eye. "Excuse me a moment," he said to her, getting up himself.

As she indulged in an onion ring she frowned as she watched Jane talk to the other man. Then she noticed Patrick give him a card. Jane was suddenly encased in a hug that he reciprocated briefly before opening the door and waving the other man off.

Jane strolled back to her, his eyes set, challenging her to ask the question. "Okay, what was that about?" she said after a moment where she didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"Just doing my little bit for charity since it's Christmas," he told her with a small shrug.

"Which is?" she probed, when he said nothing more.

He said nothing for a moment then picked up his cup slowly, smiling over the rim at her. "You're very impatient, you know that?" he said after a long sip.

"Tell me something I don't know," she replied with a glare and a pout that quickened his pulse.

"I could tell you many things about yourself," he said, his tone low as his eyes locked on hers, amusement vanished from his features.

A quiver ran through her body. "Oh, like what?"

He leaned back in his chair and smiled smugly. "Well if I tell you everything now what possible reason would there be for you to return to see me?"

"I don't know. Maybe to see if it's possible to actually get what I order," she came back with quickly.

He began to laugh as his mother swung open the door from the kitchen. She winked at her son and then at Lisbon, pulling her raincoat tighter around her. "You take your time," she said to Jane with another rather obvious wink that he rolled his eyes at while a faint blush came to his cheeks. "I'll take care of things at home for you," she added.

"You sure, mom?" he asked. "I won't be long, have a few things to do still."

"Yes, you do," she told him, her eyes darting to his companion.

He shook his head at her but smiled. "I meant at home. Take a cab, will you, it's still wet out."

"Patrick, I'm not an invalid," she pointed out before pecking him on the cheek. She turned to Lisbon. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Teresa. I hope to see you again." She gave her son another pointed look as Lisbon tried to stifle a giggle. "It was nice meeting you too, Mrs Jane," she said when the woman turned her head again, attempting a straight face.

"Alison, my dear. Alison, like I told you."

"Okay, Alison," Lisbon smiled.

"That's better."

When she left Jane emitted a long sigh. "You see what I mean? I'm over thirty and she thinks I'm ten years old sometimes." Melancholy filled his face towards the end of the remark and Lisbon could see he was transported back to that age. While his mother and he seemed to have a strong relationship now she felt that perhaps it hadn't always been that way.

"What is it?" she asked softly.

He shook his head then grinned. Cheerfully, "Nothing. A story for another time. Assuming I get the chance to tell you."

She nodded, deciding not to push whatever lay in his history, and her heart racing at the idea of seeing him again. "I like her, your mother," she stated instead with a smile. "I get the feeling not too many people can tell you what to do."

He chuckled softly. "Just a couple. I get much the same feeling about you. You like to be the one in charge."

She shrugged noncommittally. "So, tell me about the homeless man."

"You're a detective, I'm sure you can guess."

She had purposefully taken off her badge when he'd gone into the kitchen to fetch her burger and had stayed away from her livelihood as a topic of conversation. Instead she said she worked in a government department. It was loosely correct. There were so few men she connected with but she liked this one more than any she could remember. But she'd found that normally when she told men who weren't cops what she did for a living she got the immediate brush off. "How-How did you know that?" she stammered.

"Come on, what else would you be?" he said with a wave of the hand. "It's obvious."

"It is?"

"Yep."

She couldn't see how it was so obvious but evidently she must have some sort of 'cop vibe' to her. "It doesn't...put you off?" she asked him.

"Put me off what?" he smirked.

Now they were alone she felt foolish. Perhaps he was just trying to cheer up a miserable single woman who was evidently spending Christmas alone if she was hanging around a diner at ten pm on Christmas Eve. Performing another act of charity for Christmas. He had a family, well a mother at least, to share the holidays with.

"Doesn't matter," she said quickly, getting off her stool and fetching some notes from her purse while avoiding his gaze.

"No," he said, touching her elbow gently and making her look up at him as he stood opposite her. "It doesn't put me off one bit," he added with absolute seriousness, his breath quickening at the thought he'd played it so cool she thought he'd rejected her. Perhaps he was out of practice at this dance, after all.

"Oh," she nodded before a smile crept across her lips.

He looked around the deserted diner and cleared his throat that suddenly felt parched. "Uh...it's getting late-"

"Of course," Lisbon said, shoving her hands through the arms of her leather jacket. "I'm sure you have lots to do, I better get going."

"Keep me company while I tidy up here first," he urged.

"Okay," she shrugged.

After clearing up he walked her outside and locked up behind him. She said, "Well, rain's stopped," as she looked up to the star scattered sky.

"Good, that's...good. I thought maybe...um...well...I could give you a ride home," he said as he bit on his bottom lip.

She crinkled her nose as she observed him, the bravado gone from his demeanour and replaced by nervousness instead.

"I understand if you don't want me to," he continued. "I mean...we've only just met-"

"Where's your car?" she grinned.

His teeth shone at her in the dark and he extended his right arm for her to thread her left one through. She rolled her eyes but did so anyway, the soft wool of his black winter coat warming her like a kitten's fur.

"You gave him a credit card," Lisbon said after they took a few steps together arm in arm. She was surprised how natural it felt to walk with a relative stranger like this, as if they'd been strolling down the street like this for years, their steps perfectly in tune with each other. "The homeless man," she clarified.

"Perhaps," he smiled as they reached his car and he reluctantly let go of her arm but allowed his fingers to ghost over hers briefly before they lost contact with each other as he opened the passenger door for her.

After they drove a few metres and she gave him directions she confirmed, "You gave a homeless man your credit card."

He glanced over at her. "I did. One of them."

"Isn't that...I mean isn't that incredibly...reckless?"

He shrugged. "It's only money. Plus, there's a relatively small limit on it." He laughed softly. "I'm not stupid, just generous."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Who are you, the real Santa Claus?"

"I don't know if red is my colour," he smiled. "But I've thought about growing a beard."

"Come on, you're having me on."

"No, I think a beard would suit me, don't you think?" he grinned.

She rolled her eyes. "Not about that. Why did you give him the card?"

He shrugged, "Why not?"

Another eye roll later she realised he was intent on keeping this particular conversation going around in circles. She was glad she'd never had to arrest him; she'd have no chance in getting anything out of him he didn't want to tell her.

"Just turn right up here," she said as they approached her street. He swerved the car and she pointed at her condo where he pulled up at the kerb beside it and killed the engine. She saw that tenseness in him again as he fiddled with his fingers for a moment before facing her.

"Thanks for bringing me home," she said before he spoke, feeling awkward herself now they were in such an intimate setting. "And thank your mother for the jeans," she laughed, hearing the uneasiness in it immediately.

"My pleasure and I will," he nodded as he chewed on the inside of his cheek momentarily. "So, I never asked...what are your plans for tomorrow?"

"Work, I'm afraid," she said with a shrug.

"Well that doesn't sound like some festive fun," he smiled.

"It's okay. Hopefully it'll be quiet and I'll get some paperwork done."

"And that sounds like one of the saddest things I've ever heard in my life," he laughed.

She shrugged again. "It'll be fine. Gives me a chance for some quiet for a change. I could use it, to be honest."

He nodded, expecting she was telling the truth. Her job must be taxing on her and filled with chaos every day. It would do her the world of good to have some calmness in her life, even for a day. Him entering it may not be the right way to help with that, he thought ruefully. But the need to see her again overruled any further consideration into that line of thinking. "Look," he said, licking his lips, "I'd...well I'd like to ask you to my place tomorrow but-"

"No!" she laughed in astonishment. "We've only just met. It would hardly be appropriate to spend Christmas together, Patrick."

"Yeah, suppose not," he agreed, looking at his hands. If it weren't for Charlotte he'd have had no qualms about asking her to spend any or all of the day with him and doing everything in his power to ensure she acquiesced. He frowned as that thought took root in his brain, surprising him that he felt that way about her so quickly.

But Charlotte always came first and he could hardly introduce her to a woman on Christmas Day he'd just met. The truth was he hadn't encountered anyone he was so romantically interested in since his wife passed away that meant a meeting with his daughter was necessary. He wasn't entirely sure how she'd cope if it became so.

Silence began to encroach upon them as he battled with himself over the pros and cons of seeing her again now he'd had more time to think. "I better go in," she said.

"How about the day after tomorrow?" he said quickly and instinctively, looking back up from his lap. "Are you free then?"

"I-I think so," she replied tentatively.

He furrowed his brow. "You need to check your social calendar?" he smiled.

"No," she confirmed, with a shrug. "Sorry, I...I don't date much." Then she looked panic stricken. "It was a date you were suggesting, wasn't it?"

"I think so," he said slowly with another smile. He laughed softly. "I don't date much either."

She drew her head back. "I find that hard to believe."

"I'm flattered," he grinned. Before she began to ask more questions about his past or his reasons for not dating he added, "So, how about I pick you up around...seven? We could go to dinner. Somewhere with cloth napkins instead of paper ones, perhaps."

"I don't really need all that fancy stuff."

"That's precisely why you deserve it, then."

"Okay," she said quietly. "I guess I'll see you the day after tomorrow."

"At seven," he confirmed.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip for a split second before leaning in quickly to kiss him on the cheek. She heard him take a small intake of breath as her lips brushed his face and smiled as she retreated back to her seat, "I'll see you then," she said with more confidence, her smile widening when she saw him nod and look flummoxed by her gesture.

"You certainly will," he said gently after a moment. He took a breath as she opened the door beside her, "Merry Christmas, Teresa," he smiled.

She stooped to look back at him just before she closed the door. "You too, Patrick."

As he started up the engine again he viewed himself in the rear-view mirror, a soppy grin plastered across his face. He had no idea what the future might hold with this woman but he knew he had to take a chance and find out. Hopeful excitement coursed through his veins for the first time in years. "My mother will never let me hear the end of this," he said to himself with a chuckle.