AN: I love Christmas. So you're all getting Christmas. I don't know how many installments this is going to be at the moment. I do what the voices in my head tell me to do.

AN, part II: I wasn't going to post this until closer to actual Christmas, but apparently I have no self-control. And, hey, I watched "A Charlie Brown Christmas" last night; ergo, it is officially The Christmas Season.

Disclaimer: What, you think they're mine? Aww, you're cute. They are on my Christmas list, however, along with a dishwasher that also sweeps the floor and makes really good martinis.

Starlight and Silent Nights

Patrick Jane despised holidays. Oh, it wasn't that he objected to the general principle of the things, certainly not. People should assuredly take the time to be with their families, to be grateful for what they've been given, and to make happy memories.

It was just that he loathed holidays as they related to him.

He had no family to be with. Well, that wasn't strictly true. His father was still alive, he assumed, somewhere in the midwest. He hadn't seen him since he and Angela had left their close-knit community one day in late October.

His mother, too, he presumed was still living, though he wasn't sure that anyone would think to tell him if she wasn't. Unlike his father, he couldn't begin to imagine where she was. It didn't particularly matter; he had no more desire to see her now than he did when he was twelve and she walked out on them.

There was no compassion in his heart for people who abandoned their children.

Second on his list of reasons to dread the coming of holidays was the concept of being thankful. On most days, he was grateful for what he had. He had somewhere to sleep, tea whenever he wanted it, friends that cared about him, and he had Teresa Lisbon at his back.

He was lucky, no doubt there.

Except that on those special, gilded days, he was forced to remember what he didn't have. And he couldn't be thankful for that.

Finally, the idea of making happy memories depressed him so terribly it was almost funny. Now, he had plenty of happy memories, ones that he would cherish until the end. Images of Angela and Charlotte flickered through his head, touching his heart with both warmth and sadness.

He had made new memories in the past ten years, and he would carry those close to his heart as well. Lisbon's face as she opened her office door to find a pony, nights on the late shift spent teaching Rigsby card tricks, literary discussions with Cho, teasing Grace about her naive beliefs.

It was just that there was nothing beyond friendship. Had he never been married, never been a father, never known what more life could offer, he doubted he would have minded. But he did know, and he did mind.

He missed the sense of belonging fully to a family, the sense of knowing that where he was was where he should be.

It was his own stupid fault that he was lonely, though. And it was impossible to get over that enough to make the sort of memories holidays were supposed to have.

However, he hid his blossoming bitterness and sadness from the rest of the team. They were all looking forward to their upcoming time off for Christmas, and he wasn't going to ruin their happiness.

Grace was flying back to Iowa, eager to see her family and meet the new niece that had joined her family a month ago.

Rigsby was going to the southern part of the state on Christmas Day, once he picked up Ben, and had made plans to spend time with his extended family, catching up with the aunts, uncles, and cousins he hadn't seen since his father's funeral.

Cho...well, Jane wasn't entirely sure where Cho was going, but wherever it was, he was looking forward to it. The usually stoic agent had been spending an awful lot of time on the phone lately, and Jane had even caught him smiling after he hung up.

Whatever it was, Jane hoped he enjoyed himself.

It was Christmas Eve, and they were all (Jane excluded) hurrying to finish up their last bits of paperwork before they took off. Someone had been inconsiderate enough to get murdered just a few days ago. Fortunately, the case had been fairly easy to solve, made more so by the fact that the team all worked liked fiends, terrified their plans would be ruined by their inability to catch a killer.

Around noon, Grace tossed down her pen with a flourish, body language screaming that she was blissfully finished with work. Scooping up her coat, she smiled at the three men sitting in the bullpen.

"I'm taking off, guys," she said. "My plane leaves at three and I need to finish packing."

Since it was Grace, she hugged each of them individually, wishing them all a merry Christmas. Jane noticed that Rigsby's arms lingered around her, his nose skimming her hair.

He sincerely hoped those two would find their way back to each other. Everyone deserved a little happiness.

After lunch, he wandered into Lisbon's office without knocking, having grown tired of watching everyone else work.

She glanced up briefly as he entered before turning her attention back to her computer screen.

In deference to the season, he heard Christmas music playing softly from her speakers.

As he passed her desk, he sat down the cup of coffee he had grabbed for her in the break room. Bringing Lisbon coffee was always an excellent way to get her in a better mood.

"Thanks," she said, wrapping her fingers around the new mug. "How'd you know I was thinking about getting some more?"

He shrugged, dropping onto the couch with his own cup of tea. "I can read minds, obviously. I thought you knew that."

She smiled. "Of course. How silly of me to forget."

He blew across the top of his steaming tea. "Leaving early today?"

Her happy expression faded a bit. "I don't really have a reason to," she said, purposely keeping her voice light.

Due to one circumstance or another, she wasn't going back to Chicago this year. It had something to do with one brother and his family going to Florida and the others deciding to just celebrate their holidays separately. Lisbon had been disappointed, but had reasoned that it wasn't worth flying all the way there to not see everyone.

In all the years he had known her, she had never spent Christmas by herself before. He wondered how she was going to handle it.

It would probably be a very sad, lonesome day for her. She'd likely eat ice cream and watch old movies, her favorite guilty pleasures, but he doubted there would be much pleasure in them this time.

He understood the feeling, and his heart suddenly went out to her.

Everyone else got to be happy and surrounded by family. Those that didn't felt like lepers this time of year. He had grown used to it, but it would be all new to Lisbon. She certainly didn't deserve the pain it would bring, not someone as selfless as she was. He wanted to hug her, but she would push him away, he knew.

First and foremost, Teresa Lisbon always stood on her own two feet. It didn't matter if she was hurting.

Maybe, though, he thought abruptly, he could make her holiday a little bit better.

"Lisbon," he said, fleshing out his new idea even as he spoke. "Be my Christmas Eve date." The words came out without thought, but it was too late to take them back.

And he was fairly certain he didn't want to, anyway.

She stared. "What?"

He put his tea cup down. "My Christmas Eve date," he said again, gaining momentum as he went on. "Obviously, I have no plans. You don't either. So let's make plans. No one wants to be alone on Christmas." Not even him, not really.

She studied his face, and he could see the hope that was beginning to bloom in her eyes. "Are you serious?" she finally asked.

"As a heart attack," he assured her. "It'll be fun," he added. "We'll do Christmas stuff."

A small smile flashed across her face, and he knew that regardless of whatever protest she would make, he had already won.

"Christmas stuff," she repeated. "Like what?"

He thought rapidly, making most of it up as he went along. "Um, dinner. People eat on Christmas, right? And since I know you think you'll burst into flames if you don't, we'll go to church." For a moment, he couldn't believe what had just come out of his mouth. The last time he was in a church, he had been crawling up the aisle to talk to Lisbon without being seen.

"You're seriously willing to go to church with me?" She looked skeptical, and he couldn't blame her. Organized religion was all a cult to him, something to be mocked. But there was no going back now.

"I'm willing," he said. "I can't promise I won't crack some jokes during the service, but I can promise that you'll be the only one who hears them."

Slowly, she shook her head. "Jane..." she said slowly, and he knew she was going to give him one, last-ditch attempt at a protest.

So he played his trump card. "Please? I don't want to drive to Malibu tonight." It was something he normally never would have said, and originally he had only planned on using it to get her to say yes. But now that it was out there, he realized that it really was true. He wanted to be here, in Sacramento, with her.

And if he wasn't with her, he would spend his night surrounded by silence, dust, and dim, shadowy memories. In that moment, the thought of returning to his vacant, tomb-like house was nearly unbearable.

"Okay," she acquiesced, "Dinner and church." Her voice sounded as though she was unsure of what she had actually said, and her eyes told him his words had made her sad.

He smiled again, widely this time in both relief and happiness, trying to erase the effect his previous statement had caused. "Oh, that's not all we're doing," he promised. "But it's a start."

She immediately looked suspicious and he congratulated himself.

"Looks like you have a reason to leave early now," he said cheerfully.

Cho stuck his head in the door at that moment, saving her from having to reply. "I'm out of here, boss," the other man said. "Just wanted to say 'Merry Christmas.'"

Lisbon smiled at her second in command. "Merry Christmas. See you in a few days."

Cho nodded, then turned to Jane. "Merry Christmas, man."

"You, too," he replied, grinning. "Have fun with whatever the hell it is that you've managed to keep secret from me."

For just an instant, Cho smiled blindingly. "I will," he said, and then he was gone.

As soon as he was gone, Lisbon turned to him again. "What's he doing to do?"

Jane shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. It's very difficult to be nosy where Cho is involved." Not that he hadn't tried.

She frowned thoughtfully, staring at the empty doorframe.

"If I had to guess," Jane went on, "I'd bet that he's going to see Summer."

He had her full attention now. "Summer? His CI? I thought she wasn't working for us anymore."

He smiled slowly. "She's not, not that I know of," he said. "Ah, my oblivious Lisbon. Is this where I get to tell you that Cho and Summer were an item for some time?"

"An item?" she echoed. "As in, they were dating?" She let out an exasperated breath. "What is it with people in the office and their total lack of understanding about who they can be in a relationship with?" Abruptly, she fixed him with a probing stare. "Rigsby and Van Pelt aren't back together, are they?"

He chuckled. "Not yet, but it's probably only a matter of time."

Under her breath, she swore quietly, taking an angry sip of coffee.

"Oh, stop being so uptight," he told her. "Grace and Rigsby only run into problems when they're not dating. Let's face it, with the exception of Rigsby, Grace apparently only dates men who wish very bad things upon me."

She took a moment to consider his statement.

"It's true and you know it," he said, picking his cup up from the side table. Hurriedly, he swallowed the rest of the brew, then rose.

"Where're you off to?" Lisbon demanded, still clearly put out by the new knowledge he had thrown at her.

He paused at her door. "I have a date to get ready for," he said, as though it was obvious. He'd gotten another idea, and it required a little bit of planning.

"You're making me nervous, you know," she warned.

He shook his head. "Lisbon, part of our night involves going to church. How nervous could you possibly be?" Without waiting for a reply, he added, "I'll pick you up at six."

She was left staring at his back as he exited, taking a moment to toss his tea cup in the dishwasher in the break room. He said a quick good-bye to Rigsby, handing the man a package wrapped in brightly colored paper.

"For Ben," he said, smiling as he grabbed his coat.

It was colder than he'd expected outside, the gray clouds in the west threatening snow. Snow in California on Christmas? The stars must be aligned in some once-in-a-century position.

He stopped at the nearest gas station, wandering inside to pick up the day's newspaper. Back in his car, he scanned the pages until he found what he was looking for. Then he put the Citroen in gear and headed out, his mind on a different mission.

As he turned another corner, he felt a tiny bit of guilt sneak up on him. He was, for the first time in a decade, unexpectedly anticipating a holiday. Through whatever combination of circumstances, he was going to spend Christmas with someone he loved, and he was genuinely looking forward to it. The guilt was never far away, however.

On a whim, he changed direction, mouth tightening as he got close to his destination.

The cemetery was silent, cold, and he had no idea what he was doing there. Since Angela and Charlotte died, he could count on one hand the number of times he had been in this place.

Still not sure why his brain had decided to take him here, he followed the route that would take him to the place where they lay. To his immense surprise and disquiet, there were fresh flowers resting between the stones.

His first thought was Red John, but he dismissed that almost immediately. Red John would have had no way of knowing that he would be here today. After a moment or two of shocked contemplation, he figured it was either Grace or Lisbon.

Probably Grace. She was romantic enough to do something like that and not tell him. They had been closer since he'd returned from Vegas, almost actual friends, and he knew she had a heart large enough to spare a thought for his family, too.

He was touched in some secret part of his soul.

For a second, he could hear Angela's voice in his head. See, idiot? You're loved, in more than one way by more than one person. Now don't waste it.

Abruptly, he knew what his purpose in coming here had been. He was in danger of being happy, and he thought that seeing the evidence of his greatest mistake would be enough to stymie it.

Instead, the opposite effect had occurred. He felt...better.

And now he was off to have a Christmas Eve date with Teresa Lisbon. He smiled.

In a moment of indulgence, he blew a kiss at the memory of his wife and daughter. Then he turned on his heel, the ground hard under his feet.

The temperature continued to fall as he drove back to his hotel room. God, it really was going to snow. He turned the heater on in the room, then started absently flipping through his closet.

If he was going to call it a date, he was going to act like it, too.

He showered, shaved, did something to his hair. The digital clock beside the bed told him he still had time to kill, so he shrugged into his coat and headed for the supermarket. Scotch was more Lisbon's style, but wine was more Christmas-like.

He wasn't sure what compelled him to buy wine in the first place.

Really, he needed to work on some impulse control. The damn things were getting him in trouble today.

Snow had started to drift down lightly from the sky by the time he pulled into Lisbon's parking lot. Unaccountably nervous, he took a deep, steadying breath, fingers wrapped around the steering wheel still.

This was silly - he was going to be with Lisbon, for God's sake. It wasn't really a date - they were just two lonely people who were going to be slightly less alone tonight. They were friends, that was all.

He made a mental note to avoid any mistletoe, and then wondered if that was truly what he wanted. Kissing her wouldn't be a chore, that much was certain. Her lips would be soft and warm and welcoming, all of the things he had been missing in his life, had been denying himself for a decade.

Abruptly, he reigned his mind back in. Perhaps the smartest thing to do would be to turn the car around and hide in his hotel. Maybe he could get roaring drunk and forget about how his life had turned out.

But, no. He had promised Lisbon a date, and that was what she was going to get. He wasn't going to ruin her Christmas further by being unable to keep his daydreams in check.

The car door slamming shut sounded unnaturally loud. Falling snow had a silencing effect on the world around it. He may as well have been the only person alive in the whole city.

Shadows stretched across the lot, and he felt a sense of eager anticipation, one that was unique to Christmas Eve. Like the whole world was waiting.

He shook his head. There was definitely something wrong with him. He could wax poetic to perfect strangers all day long, but very rarely did he do so inside his own head, especially about things that were so ridiculous.

As he approached her door, he found his heart was beating faster than normal. He should have used biofeedback to relax, but it was an almost pleasant sensation.

The last time he was on anything resembling a date, his heart had been beating too fast, too, but the whole thing had been laced by a heavy thread of guilt and remorse. Kristina Frye had been a bad idea, almost from the start.

This was different.

This was Lisbon, his rock, his salvation in more than one way.

Lips quirking slightly, he raised his hand, then stopped, poised above the solid wood of the door. He took one more deep breath.

He knocked.

AN: I wasn't sure about the bit with Grace and the flowers, but I wanted our beloved Patrick to figure out that he wasn't as alone as he thought, and it needed to come from more places than just Lisbon. Besides, I think it sounds like something she'd do.