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I do not own the characters from The Mentalist and no copyright infringement is intended. No monetary profits have been made. Thanks, Mr. Heller.

AN: The title is one of my favorite Christmas songs, from Meet Me in St. Louis. I'm such a sap that the Karen Carpenter version is my favorite. This is pure, sentimental fluff, and I make no apologies. You have been warned. "Let your heart be light…."

Have Your Self a Merry Little Christmas

December 21st Sunday 8 pm Central

Lisbon dropped her bag wearily on the foyer floor as she held the door open for Jane. He stepped inside her house, his travel bag in one hand and a sack of Chinese takeout in the other. Lowering his suitcase to the floor, he headed straight for the kitchen, while she closed the door behind him.

She leaned against the door for a moment as she flipped the deadbolt shut, willing it to be a barrier from the horrors they'd been dealing with for the last two and a half weeks. A child smuggling ring had sent them from Mexico City to New Orleans to Detroit in a whirlwind investigation. But now they were home, the bad guys were in jail, and she needed to escape from the raw cruelty and pain they'd seen all along the way. She was exhausted both mentally and physically, and she knew it.

Lisbon padded into the kitchen where Jane already had two plates set out on the table. He was busy opening the white cubelike boxes of food, arranging them between the plates.

"Tea?" he asked, looking up.

"Please."

"Sit down. I'll take care of this," he offered, turning to put on the kettle.

She slid gratefully into the chair with a sigh. "Thank you." Patrick Jane certainly had his faults, but he was wonderful about helping out around the house, especially when she was tired, and that was a quality she had come to truly appreciate.

He was drained, too, she knew, feeling a pang of guilt as she let him serve her. Those bags under his eyes were real. And she knew how profoundly cases involving kids always affected him. He met her eye with a smile, however, and even gave a little flourish with his hand as he served her tea. "Bon appetit!"

"You're sweet," she said, tilting her head.

"Meh, I just have a lot of years to atone for," he stated good-naturedly. And with that, they dug into their supper.

"So," he started, his mouth half full of Pad Thai. "When are we going to put up the Christmas tree?"

"Oh." That was not something they had discussed, since they had been so busy at work. At the moment, the thought of all that mess just made her more tired. "I don't think we really need one, do we? Thursday's Christmas, and this week's going to be busy. We'd have to get decorations – I gave what I had in Washington away so I wouldn't have to move them here."

"Oh, okay," he said casually. He was trying to hide his disappointment, she could tell.

"I mean. I just think Christmas has become too commercial anyway." She didn't think she'd have the energy to go out after work tomorrow to shop for decorations that would only be up for a few days. "Maybe we could decorate next year? Give us time to find a few things."

"Okay, yeah. Sure. You're right. We don't have time this year."

Their conversation drifted to other subjects as they returned to their meal. When they were both stuffed, Jane rose. "I'll take care of this. Why don't you go on to bed? You're exhausted."

She started to protest.

"No, Teresa, just go to bed. I'm fine here. I slept a little on the plane."

A few minutes later, as she emerged from the shower, she heard the clank of dishes being put into the dishwasher. She slipped on her gown and crawled under the covers, closed her scratchy eyes, and two minutes later she was asleep.

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"Bzzzz. Bzzzz." Lisbon smacked the snooze button without opening her eyes, and swore. It was six fifteen. She'd slept nine hours, and she was positive she could sleep nine more if that noise would just go the hell away. It was warm and cozy here in the bed with Jane, and she wanted to stay.

The need to pee, however, was ultimately successful in getting her up. That mission accomplished, she stepped from the bathroom back into the bedroom only to hear the alarm buzzing again. Jane lay sound asleep beside it, oblivious.

She was slowly learning about the two versions of Patrick Jane. The one that napped on the couch at work could be alert and on the way to a case in mere seconds, but this one – the one warm and naked in her bed – could and would sleep through a bomb without stirring.

At first it seemed that he was a conundrum – full of contradictions like these. But she was gradually realizing that there were differences between the public Jane and the private one. The cocky, unflappable, "has an answer for everything" Jane versus the vulnerable, unsure, and tender Jane. The Jane who had no problem enraging and insulting a suspect just to read him, versus the Jane who wilted visibly if he accidently caused her the smallest displeasure here at home.

Oddly, she found she liked both Janes, and once she got the hang of this, she was confident she could deal with the dichotomy without a problem. The Jane asleep before her right now was definitely the open, honest one and she planted a kiss on his cheek, rubbing his shoulder gently with her hand.

"Hey," she said quietly. "Wake up, sleeping beauty."

His eyes fluttered open, squinting at the bathroom light, but he smiled when he saw her. "Morning," he croaked.

"Time to get up," she said as kindly as possible.

"Umm." He stretched and then, as if something had occurred to him, became suddenly alert. "How long have you been up?"

"Just long enough to go to the bathroom."

He sat up quickly. "You know, I thought I heard something last night, Teresa."

"Huh?"

"Clatter. The neighbors, maybe? The ones with the cats?"

"I was out like a light. I didn't hear a thing."

He smiled and pulled on his boxers as he got to his feet, and then he reached for her hand. "Come with me."

"Jane, I've got to get…"

"This will only take a minute."

She rolled her eyes, but let him lead her out of the bedroom. On the little hall table, he picked up a stick-like device with a star on one end. She'd certainly never seen that before. What exactly was going on here, she wondered.

As they turned into the living room, he made a swipe though the air with the stick, which made a melodic, sparkling noise. She looked across to the corner of the room, where a six-foot tall Frazier fir lit up in a myriad of colored lights, seemingly at the command of the wand. In addition to the many tiny lights, closer inspection revealed scores of origami animal ornaments, which had been folded out of shining, sparkly paper. They reflected and scattered the light, which made the entire tree twinkle and glow.

"Oh my God!" she cried, her eyes wide with wonderment. "It's beautiful!"

When she was able to tear her eyes from the magnificent tree, she turned to Jane, who was fairly glowing with pleasure himself.

"When did…"she sputtered. "Did you stay up all night?"

"Got to bed about four thirty," he admitted.

"You shouldn't…"

"Shhh," he said, halting her objection. "It's not quite done." He reached down and picked up another ornament from the couch. This one was an angel who held a lighted star in her hand, and it was made to plug into the other lights. "Here, you put this one on top and I'll plug it in." He pulled a chair over to the tree for her to stand on, and she climbed up and secured the ornament on the top branch. Jane reached up and plugged it into the receiving plug he had arranged in position for that purpose, and the little angel's star lit right up.

Holding onto his arm for support, she stepped down, and he moved the chair away. Together they moved back in the room to admire the tree, now complete with the angel and her shining star on top.

'Oh," was all Teresa could squeak out as a tear rolled down her cheek.

"And here we see the mighty Lisbon, felled by a tiny angel," he quipped with a smile.

She reached to smack him, but at the last instant she pulled him into an embrace instead. "Merry Christmas, Teresa," he whispered in her ear. She kissed his cheek, and then his lips, and then one thing led to another.

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Lisbon made it to work with one minute to spare. Jane sauntered in about fifteen minutes later looking like the cat that ate the canary. He made a beeline for the couch, and was horizontal in a flash. Snuggling into the leather, he turned onto his side, lying with his hands between his knees. "Wake me up when the paperwork is over," he said to her, yawning.

"There's a meeting at nine," she informed him in a prim and proper voice, and when he failed to respond, she glanced over her shoulder. She wasn't the least bit surprised to find he was already dead to the world. "Merry Christmas, you ridiculous little man," she said under her breath. "I love you."

And she didn't wake him up for the meeting.

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The End.

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"Through the years we all will be together,

If the fates allow

Hang a shining star upon the highest bow

And have yourself, a merry little Christmas now…"

Merry Christmas everybody!