A/N: I don't like this one too much, it is QUITE the Angst Monster. I dunno if I like the ending too much. Oh well, enjoy, please review. (:

Elements

Thunder roared.

It yelled with its tumultuous voice, angry. It reached out with its arms of lightning, striking the earth and lighting up the churning sky. The clouds smothered the sun completely, basking everything with its darkness. Rain fell in sheets, relentless as it bathed with its intense shower.

Patrick Jane wistfully remember something about how being in a car was one of the safest places during a thunderstorm. But he didn't feel very safe, sitting alone in the middle of the parking lot.

I'm twenty minutes early, He had thought. I can sit here a moment, I can think for a minute.

And a single minute turned into forty-five, and here he was in this predicament. He could get up and walk, but he hadn't brought an umbrella, and he was all the way on the opposite side of the parking lot. All the closer spots had been taken while he dozed.

"Dammit, Jane," he swore. He ran his fingers through his blonde curls, blinking angrily at this difficult situation. He glanced out the foggy windows, but no such luck. The rain wouldn't spare him today. But he did not defy the elements. No one did, but especially not him.

I should go home, he thought. I should just leave.

He shot a look at the clock. The numbers glowed with the time, day of the week, and, of course. The date.

The date. The anniversary.

He blinked sadly. At least the weather was fitting.

Jane sighed, and closed his eyes. The rain pounded on the metal shell of the car, and he was lost in his memories.

His wife and daughter, smiling and laughing.

The faithful day, a kiss goodbye. Exchanging "I love you"s.

Walking into the door. Up the stairs.

Something wrong.

Horribly, horribly wrong.

The letter, the crying smile. Bodies. Blood. So, so, so much blood.

Laughing.

Jane's eyes shot open. His breathing was heavy, his pulse racing. What time was it?

Another glance at the clock. His stomach dropped. Damn.

And, hey, it didn't even stop raining. Not even a little.

Sighing, he decided he should just go inside already. It was just a little water. He was more afraid of what Lisbon would do to him because he was so late.

He gathered all his supplied and clipped on his ID. Jane took in a readying breath and opened the door, soon accosted by the rain.

He shut the door and took a few steps forward. "Shit," he thought, turning around.

He opened the door and picked up the briefcase he had so empty-headedly forgotten.

He trudged to the building, taking his time and feeling the cold rain drench him. It seeped through his clothes and hair and slipped down his neck.

He looked to the skies and let the water blur his vision. He felt the urge to drop his case and splash around in a puddle, drive to the river and drown himself on its overflowing banks.

But he didn't.

He headed into the building, silently, into the elevator, and up, up, up.

He walked the unusually long hallway, leaving a trail of water in his wake.

Patrick Jane fumbled with the door handle. He finally got it open, but instead of dropping immediately on his beloved sofa, he deposited his suitcase and headed to Lisbon's office. She was still there, but the bullpen was empty. Everyone else was probably off doing important things while he wallowed in his memories.

"Lisbon...?"

He gently opened the door, not even bothering to knock.

The brunette looked up immediately. "Jane?!" She rose and cautiously approached as he took several steps in.

Jane was quite a sight. Soaking, dripping wet, bags under his eyes, face etched with exhaustion and sadness. Lisbon had never seen the cocky blonde this way before; it scared her.

"Where were you, Jane? You didn't call ahead, and Van Pelt tried you at home, but you didn't answer... Did... Did you happen to fall in the river?"

Jane cracked a small grin. "No, not quite." Though I wish. "I was in the parking lot, actually. Seems I had dozed off... How irresponsible of me, no need to say it. But, I'm here now." He smiled again, but it just didn't have heart in it.

"You're dripping all over my carpet."

"Sorry."

Lisbon looked at him in disbelief.

"Jane!"

"Yes?"

"Go home."

"Lisbon?"

"What, Jane?"

"I'm sorry."