Author's Note: My best friend was complaining about Father's Day because she and her husband got into a big fight, but she and thier kid still had Father's Day shopping to do. The soap opera aside, it got me thinking, what would someone who lost his entire family think when silly little holidays like this roll around? Thus, a plot bunny is born!

Disclaimer: This is done for love of the show and characters, and I own nothing but my own words.

Father's Day

For five years, Patrick Jane lived a bland, empty life. He hid it behind a quick smile and laughing eyes, but no matter how good the day turned out to be, his smile faded fast without an audience. He was broken, and he knew it. His work was filled with a never ending search for redemption and justice, and his nights with insufficient sleep and desperate attempts to distract himself. His grief was ever present, a constant ache he could even ignore, after a fashion.

But there were five days in the year when he couldn't ignore it anymore. Christmas brought a bittersweet ache, filled with memories of happy times and the longing for what was. His wedding anniversary was hard, and he usually spent all night talking to the ghost of his wife in an empty house. Her birthday brought restless dreams of a mad dash to the hospital, a newborn cry and images of little girl parties and messy birthday cakes. The day they died made him waspish and withdrawn as he struggled with his rage, and even the endless patience of his CBI colleagues would wear thin and ragged. He thought Lisbon suspected the reason, but she said nothing, kept the peace until the moodiness passed, and let him wander off alone when he needed.

Father's day, however, was the one that hurt. For weeks before hand, endless commercials and advertisements about gifts for dads taunted him. Usually, if he wasn't working a case, Jane would take a walk in the park or down the street on those lazy Sunday mornings just to people watch. But one Sunday in June, he avoided. Seeing fathers playing with children on that day, of all days, opened a wound that never really closed. Laughing sons playing ball, giggling girls giving orders to grown men, the loving looks of indulgent wives; it was just too much for him. It was like the universe conspired to remind him that he wasn't a father anymore, wasn't a husband. If he had been inclined to drink, this one day in June would surely have driven him to drown in a vat of alcohol.

This Father's day brought a murder. He awoke early and had been fixing his morning tea in his pajamas when his cell phone rang. He planned a day of hiding inside his home, perhaps reading that novel Cho had given him. Although he normally welcomed a case, today he didn't welcome anything that would take him out into the world.

"Jane," he answered politely, pleased his voice was steady.

"Okay, what's wrong?" Lisbon said in mild concern.

"Wrong? Why would anything be wrong?" Jane asked in confusion, fussing with his teacup. "You called me, remember?"

"You usually answer the phone with some pithy comment, Jane," Lisbon pointed out. Jane couldn't help but smile.

"You keep track of how I answer the phone? That's sweet, Lisbon," Jane said, his grin getting wider as he pictured her green eyes rolling.

"Jane," Lisbon said in exasperation.

"What? I just got up, that's all. You can't expect charming and witty until after my first cup of tea. I don't mess with you before you've had your morning coffee," Jane defended himself. "So cut me some slack, woman."

"Fine," Lisbon said. Jane could hear the trace of amusement in her tone. "I'm sorry I interrupted your beauty sleep. But we have a case."

"I figured as much," Jane said, sipping his tea as he headed for the bedroom to dress. "What's up?"

"A candidate for the Sacramento City Council was murdered last night," Lisbon explained. "I'll fill you in once I pick you up. I'm about 10 minutes from your place."

"Right," Jane said, setting his tea down and opening the closet. "See you in a few minutes, my dear,"

Exactly nine minutes later, a black SUV pulled up to Jane's quiet apartment complex. Lisbon knew he still had a home in Malibu, but had taken this little apartment to be closer to the CBI. Sacramento and Malibu were too far away for an easy commute. Lisbon was tempted to go up, to peek into the little place Jane kept. Little did she know, Jane had rented a furnished apartment, and hadn't bothered to personalize it beyond his clothes and a very nice copper bottomed tea kettle. Even the horrible wall art had come with the place. Before Lisbon could decide, she spotted Jane locking his door and heading down to her SUV.

An elderly woman in a big hat sitting near the pool waved cheerily to the leaving Jane, who gave her a wink and a smile. Lisbon tried to hide her smile as the older woman practically melted under Jane's charm. Today he was wearing his black suit and matching vest, white shirt with thin gray pin striping. His blond curls were mostly combed, and he hadn't had a chance to shave, leaving him with a slight stubble. Lisbon didn't want to admit the whole thing looked good on him.

"Who's the girlfriend?" Lisbon teased as she pulled into traffic.

"Mrs. Fremont," Jane smiled. "She's the landlady. So what's the story with the councilman?"

"Council person," Lisbon corrected, "Jasmine Zeller, and she hadn't been elected yet. She was a candidate, but looked really good to win. This morning, her husband came home from a business trip early this morning and found her body."

"Zeller," Jane muttered. "Isn't she running against that guy the hooker sold out to the tabloids?"

"Jorge Ramirez," Lisbon supplied. "That would be the guy."

"Hmm, guess he shouldn't have done that last line of coke off the hooker's stomach while her pimp took pictures," Jane said with a smirk. "But with Zeller gone, he wins his seat back."

"Hardly worth it at this point," said Lisbon with a snort. "His reputation is ruined and his career is over. Even if he is elected, there's already a petition going around to get him recalled."

"Still, it's a motive," Jane pointed out.

"How about we actually get some evidence before we start convicting people," Lisbon replied, doing her best to sound severe. "Maybe even see the crime scene first?"

Jane grinned at her and shrugged. He looked out the window as they passed a park, and his smile faded. A tall blond man in jeans lay on his side in the grass, his wife crossed-legged beside him, laughing as he tried to tempt her into eating a chocolate covered strawberry from a gift basket beside him. A little girl with her sparse hair in pig tails toddled up and fell right into her father's lap. Her parents cooed in amused concern, righted their little treasure and watched as she made her unsteady way to the picnic basket.

He remained silent, and ignored the frequent looks Lisbon shot his way. Luckily, it would be a short trip, but the silence was awkward. Finally, Lisbon couldn't handle it anymore.

"Jane? You okay?" Lisbon asked. Her concerned warmth drew Jane out of his shell enough to look in her eyes, and the half-formed platitude he was about to tell died on his lips. Today, he was just too tired of pretending it was all okay, and he didn't want to lie to the only person in the world who might understand. The sadness in Jane's eyes made Lisbon want to hold him close, but she knew she wouldn't. What she could do was wait, and let Jane share what he wanted. It was a delicate balance they had struck, and the trust was still fragile between two people who had trust broken once too often.

"It's Father's Day today, Lisbon," Jane said softly, and looked away again. Lisbon suddenly understood. She had lost her father long ago, first to drink and then to death, so the holiday held little meaning for her now. She mostly ignored it, and actually hadn't realized that it was today. But it obviously meant something to Jane. Lisbon reached out, and placed her hand on Jane's upper arm, and favored him with a gentle smile when he looked at her in surprise. Her hand dropped away, and they rode the rest of the way in silence, but it wasn't strained anymore.

Father's Day was still the one that hurt the most, but with Lisbon, maybe it didn't have to hurt as much.