A/N: Last of my genre fics... for this round at least. Not sure if there'll be another round or not. It depends.

Thank you to: TwilightLover-CarlisleandEsme, Iloveplotbunnies, SharpestSatire, matsu23 and xJadeWEAPONx for reviewing Define Trust. Also to anyone who +alerted or favourited this little collection.

Would love to know what you think.

Finally, nominations for the Paint It Red Awards are still going ahead. If you know of any stories that are deserving of a nomination, please head over there and do so! Thanks!

x tromana

Title: Do You Remember
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Jane/Lisbon, Jane/Angela, Charlotte
Summary: Tamzin Dove has a proposition for Jane
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Spoilers: Only season one, really.
Notes: Written for 15genres1prompt. Genre: time travel. I finished it! I had to really, didn't I? Not entirely happy with the ending of this one, it feels more like the start of something. But who knows if I'll ever get a chance to continue.

Do You Remember

"Ah, Patrick Jane," Tamzin Dove stated warmly, with a coy smile traced across her features. "I expected you would come."

"Why?" Jane quipped back immediately, before he'd even bothered to set foot in her home. "Because you were responsible for Tori Matthews' death?"

"Goodness, no. Do you really think I am a killer just because I am a witch?"

She stood to one side and indicated that he should enter. With a slight nod, Jane complied and followed her through to the kitchen. As she'd stated, Tamzin Dove didn't at all seem fazed by the fact he had suddenly appeared on her doorstep. On the contrary, she seemed almost thrilled and was buzzing with a nervous energy at the fact he had returned into her life. It didn't matter that it was as a result of the death of another one of her young associates; it almost felt as though she spent two years waiting for this moment.

"So no more killing spells then?"

"Killing spells?" she queried, sounding amused by the concept. "No. They don't exist."

"That's not what you said last time. "

"Last time, I was testing you. I wanted to see if you were as all knowing as you claim to be."

"I've never claimed to be all knowing," he answered back, immediately having to correct her. "Witchcraft isn't amongst my interests, so forgive me for failing your supposed test."

"Debating the uses of witchcraft isn't really why you're here, and neither is Tori's death. Please, take a seat. "

Jane ignored the request and remained standing. Though she clearly believed otherwise, he had genuinely only came to ask her a few questions about the case. He would have come with one of the others, but Lisbon had a meeting, Rigsby and Van Pelt were busy questioning the parents and Cho still had an aversion to witchcraft. So, he had decided to take the initiative and go it alone. He knew it would ruffle a few feathers when he got back to the headquarters, but the victim had been a minor. Whenever children were involved so intricately, he felt compelled to work ten times harder. That was something that should theoretically please Lisbon, but for some strange reason it only seemed to succeed in irritating her further.

"Even you have to admit that it is rather odd that children you take under your wing seem to end up dead. "

"I never had an interest in Cody Elkins. His brother, however, is turning into a fine young man."

"Close enough."

"If you say so," she answered with a wave of her hand. "I more believe it's serendipitous, a coincidence."

"I'm not sure Mr. and Mrs. Matthews see it that way."

"Tori's death was a tragedy; she was a bright soul and had a good spirit. She didn't deserve to die like that."

"I still think you're involved," Jane answered. It wasn't often that he spoke so openly about his hunches, but he had a feeling that it didn't make too much difference to Tamzin whether or not he remained coy about it.

"You only believe that because you wanted to have justifiable cause to see me again. In reality, you felt a calling to come. Can I offer you a cup of tea?"

He shook his head. Despite the fact Jane had a weakness for the drink, he didn't trust her not to have addled with it somehow. Of course, she would merely claim that her meddling was beneficial somehow, that all the magic she did was for good but as far as Jane was concerned, it was all masquerades and lies. It was little better than when he'd lived his life as a psychic, claiming to be in contact with the spirit world on order to fleece innocent victims out of substantial volumes of cash. The main difference was that Tamzin actually believed she could do magic and was therefore completely delusional when it came to her abilities. She shrugged and made herself a cup before gesturing to the table again, indicating that he should really take a seat.

"Fine, let's get this silly charade over and done with," she acquiesced and sat down on the wooden chair. "Though you have to promise that you will listen to what I have to say afterwards."

"Fine," Jane answered and he took a seat opposite her.

Tamzin placed her mug of tea down and turned it clockwise three times before looking up at Jane. Though he had agreed to hear out whatever it was she wanted to get off of her chest, Jane hadn't explicitly agreed to take it on board. He'd listen, but then promptly forget about it. She wasn't going to tell him anything of great import. No, she was most likely going to suggest some kind of magic spell, potion or lotion to rid him of his great, unequivocal sadness. That she was probably highly disappointed that it was still holding him down, like a great anchor around his neck. And he didn't want healing or saving or the like. He had his own agenda to sort out first. His quest for Red John was practically infamous now.

Meticulously, he recorded every detail she said relating to Tori Matthews, however. Jane had an inherent distrust of anyone claiming to be in contact with the spiritual world one way or another. Though she hadn't been guilty of Cody Elkins' death a couple of years ago, it didn't automatically make her innocent when it came to the Matthews case.

"So, Mr. Jane, tell me," she started, pausing briefly to take a sip of her tea. "If you could change one thing in your past, what would it be?"

"You tell me," he challenged.

"You're right of course," she said with a shrill laugh, one that was more suited a girl at least fifteen years younger than she was. "Your regrets are obvious to anybody who has even the slightest interest. "

She stood and headed straight to an oak cupboard. Jane watched warily as she started rummaging through it. Eventually, she was triumphant and as Jane suspected, she returned with a small packet of herbs. Gently, she placed it on the table and sat back down opposite him.

"The spirits told me you would return shortly after I saw you last. Of course, they couldn't tell me it would take three years," she said, again with a girlish giggle. "They informed me how to concoct this little thing. "

"And what is it meant to do?" he asked, pretending to be intrigued, when in reality, he didn't care in the slightest.

"What do you think? "

"Nothing at all," he answered honestly. "It's just a bunch of herbs."

"That's where you're wrong," she said, with a confident air about her. "Of course, you'll never believe me if I told you what it's meant to do. You're going to have to try it for yourself."

Jane immediately pushed it back towards her, but she was insistent, to the extent that she actually placed it on his palm and wrapped his hand gently around it using her own. As she did so, she told him the precise instructions on how he was meant to use it. The spirits had been insistent, down to the finest detail, apparently. When he finally managed to escape from her clutches, Jane was faintly surprised that she hadn't asked for payment. Most con artists fooled people into taking the supposed goods, acting as if it were goodwill and then asked for the money afterwards. On the contrary, Tamzin had claimed that money was of no import when it came to something of this magnitude.

Not that it had any seriousness whatsoever as far as he was concerned. It was just some miscellaneous herbs, dried and carelessly thrown together. Then, she had probably uttered some nonsense over it, while waving her hands in a random manner. Considering how old the herbs were, they probably wouldn't even be any good for cooking now. Still, he pocketed them and thanked her for her time. After her performance, he didn't have the heart to repeat that he wouldn't be taking them, that he didn't need them. Instead, he'd just dump them in the nearest trash can and forget about it.

xxx

The herbs rested heavily in his jacket pocket. Not because of what Tamzin had informed him that they did, but because of the memories that she had dislodged by dredging up the past. She may have been more than a little bit delusional, but she was good at her act. Especially so considering she had succeeded in ensuring the thoughts remained firmly in his mind. Then again, all she had been selling him was hope, a wish. Who didn't have regrets that lingered behind them, things they wished they could go back in time and change? It was simply a give fact that his were of a considerably higher magnitude than the average person's.

When he arrived back at the headquarters, he was so engrossed in his memories that Lisbon picked up on his supposed prickly mood almost instantaneously. Jane knew that he shouldn't have been surprised; out of anyone living, she understood him the best. However, it still irked him. He didn't like the concept of other people being able to read him so easily. It made him wonder if this was how they felt when he pulled his tricks on them. And besides, he had always believed that his tells hadn't been particularly obvious. That he knew how to mask them so that people couldn't get that foot in the proverbial door.

It appeared that he had been wrong on that count twice in one day now. Obviously he was just having a bad day. It wasn't possible that he was losing his touch; that very concept was simply inconceivable.

Still he tried to let himself become engrossed in their current case. It was pretty dull; a mugging gone wrong, with a very poor cover up afterwards. Something which Tamzin Dove was more than capable of doing, in Jane's opinion. It was also the kind of case that he always considered as being one where they didn't need his help to close it. They were, after all, highly skilled individuals and they could easily do their jobs without his help. It just so happened that for some unfathomable reason that they preferred to have his input as well. Probably because it increased their closed case record considerably, though he did suspect that it was because they were equally fond of him too. And that meant Tamzin was right, in some respect. Sheer intrigue had led him back to her doorstep, rather than it being purely a case-related meeting.

Throughout the afternoon, Lisbon kept an especially close eye on Jane. That annoyed him, as had her initial reading of him. It meant that the damn herbs still weren't far from his mind and that she was itching to ask him what was wrong. Sometimes he wanted, needed her care and attention, even. At this present moment in time, he would have much rather do without it. Jane was finding it suffocating, almost, as he often did whenever he was thinking about his family with her in close proximity. Though he had revealed the barest of details about them to her, they were still something which he preferred to keep fiercely private. He almost felt as though sharing his memories with somebody else – especially someone he cared about – would somehow tarnish them, mean they weren't so clear in his mind.

He kept his hand firmly placed on his left jacket pocket, where the herbs had been hidden since Tamzin had handed them to him. Jane wasn't about to tell Lisbon any time soon. He didn't require her input to know just how ridiculous it was that this was bothering him so much.

xxx

Instead of returning to the motel room he was currently renting out, Jane headed, instead to his family home. It wasn't too far from central Sacramento, after all. Not like the other place, in Malibu, which he had promptly sold soon after his release from the mental institution. He would have gotten rid of this one too, were it not for two very important details.

Firstly, this was the place that Charlotte was born.

And secondly, it was where she had died, along with her beautiful mother.

Like he always did, Jane ignored the furnishings, the mess and the dust. Instead, he headed straight for the staircase and upstairs. He felt compelled to go to the master bedroom, where it had happened, where his life had essentially been turned upside down. It was almost as if he was working on autopilot, or at least, being dragged there by unfathomable forces. He felt his muscles getting heavier, his mind slowing down as he got closer and closer to the room. Automatically, Jane reached into his pocket and grasped hold of the small packet of herbs. Now he was here, he could barely remember Dove's instructions. Nor did he care what they were.

All he wanted to do was sleep.

It was only a matter of seconds before he collapsed on the mattress in a boneless heap and soon drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

xxx

"Daddy! Daddy, daddy, daddy!"

Jane's eyes sprang open at the sound of his daughter's exuberant voice. It was almost as if he'd last heard it yesterday. After his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight pouring in between the curtains, he took the time to take in his surroundings. The bedroom was a mess. That was something to be expected considering that Angela wasn't the tidiest of people and their daughter had taken directly after her in that respect. Nervously, he sat up. Everything was as it once was, before…

Before…

His eyes were automatically drawn to the wall. It was bare, a blank magnolia, as it once had been. Angela had always complained, stated that they should have gotten a nice photo frame and put up a montage of family pictures, or something. Jane, on the other hand, had always stalled. He had always appreciated the simplicity of the bedroom without the clutter of family portraits. It was bad enough that he had to endure the mess of her clothes scattered on the floor, never mind anything messing up the walls. Still, there was something missing from it. He knew exactly what, but he barely dared think about it. What a life would be like without that blood red smiley face painted on this precise wall. Carefully, he drew out where it should have been, where it would potentially still appear.

He shook his head, attempting to drag himself back to his senses. Then, he touched his wrist, carefully feeling out his pulse. Of course it was there, why wouldn't it have been? He took a deep breath of air and the smell of pancakes lingered. Angela had obviously decided that that was what would be suitable for breakfast. That felt surprisingly good. Then, he pinched himself, just to be sure that he was awake, that this wasn't a dream.

That Charlotte and Angela hadn't been killed by Red John.

That Tamzin Dove's concoction of magic herbs, that her little spell, had indeed, worked.

"Daddy!" Charlotte shouted once more, imploringly.

Jane turned, with his arms outspread, ready to take hold of his daughter and swing her high into the air. It had been such a long time since he had last been able to do that, and now, he was relishing the chance to do so again. He called for her, told her it was okay to come in the bedroom instead of making all that noise just outside. Eventually, she did rush inwards, but she didn't coming running straight into his arms. Instead, he looked to his left and there was another Patrick Jane, beaming widely and tickling the little girl until she shook with laughter.

His face fell. That couldn't be right, could it?

And it was then when he realized everything he had lost by not disposing of the herbs, by letting them linger in his mind for so long after. Now, it appeared that he was doomed to live a half-life, watching himself make all the same mistakes again and lose his loved ones once more. On top of that, there were the people he'd left behind, in the future, of sorts. In the life he'd carved out for himself within the CBI. Rigsby, Van Pelt, Cho.

Lisbon.

Especially Lisbon. He'd always let himself get close to her, even when he knew that he shouldn't have done so.

As much as he loved seeing his daughter again, listening to her laugh and shriek and giggle, watching her play, he wasn't sure that this was worth it. After all, he couldn't touch her, couldn't interact with her. All he could do was watch himself tickle and taunt her. Watch another Jane kiss his wife tenderly on the lips. Observe as he swindled innocent person after innocent person out of their life's savings.

See how he lived his life from another perspective.

If he really thought about it, this was almost some sort of hell. Then again, he had unintentionally delved into the unknown, despite the fact he had always been reluctant to believe in magic and witchcraft. Somehow, he had been conned into participating in something he wasn't even sure he'd wanted to do in the first place.

And now he knew.

He wanted off.

The question was how. There had to be a reverse button, didn't there?

Or was a spell once cast permanent?

All he knew was that he had to try.