Disclaimer: I own nothing related to The Mentalist. A/N: Still working on El Scorcho and World Your Rock, but this popped up. Before anyone loses their mind and flames me before or after reading, I'll point them in the direction of the pilot episode in which Jane less eloquently than Stuart Mill, through the use of a straw and nautical kitsch, made his belief that there is nothing to believe in quite clear. Rant at Bruno Heller if you have a problem with that particular part of Jane's character. I can't do anything about it.

Conversion

"I am thus one of the very few examples, in this country, of one who has, not thrown off religious belief, but never had it…" -John Stuart Mill, Autobiography

"It was an itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie,
Yellow, polka dot bikini,
That she wore for the first time today."

-Lee Pockriss & Paul Vance, "Itsy, Bitsy, Teenie, Weenie, Yellow Polka Dot Bikni"

August 2012 CBI Headquarters

It was a hot and muggy summer day in Sacramento and the occupants of the CBI building were feeling the heat. The state of California had the distinct misfortune of once being led by an adulterous, movie star with an environmental slant, and he'd left behind a little known-but largely loathed-annual practice. State employees were encouraged to go without their air conditioning for a twenty-four period if possible in order to help save energy, the environment and, though the Governator would never admit it, money.

There was no law forcing bureaucrats and civil servants to turn off their AC, it was just a patriotic and green thing to do, provided it caused just a little sacrifice, and no physical harm. Hospitals certainly weren't obligated to jump on board.

Of course, people can disagree on what constitutes a sacrifice, and how big or small it might be. At least three members of the California Bureau of Investigation were of the opinion that forgoing central air was a pretty tall order to get filled. The fourth was bothered by the heat, but was the kind of person who thought making sacrifices for the greater good was just how life was supposed to pan out.

The fourth person was not Patrick Jane, part-time consultant to the CBI, full-time skeptic and occasional jail bird.

"Can I just say," Jane muttered from where he was sprawled across his tattered couch in the bull pen. "That I hate Tracey Wilcox so bad right now, so bad."

Kimball Cho, the senior agent currently in charge of their team didn't even look up from the novel he was reading at his desk before uttering, "Ditto."

"Don't say hate Jane, hate is a very strong word."

Grace Van Pelt was a junior agent and never afraid, unlike most people, to scold Jane.

"Come on Grace, Jane is just joking," said Wayne Rigsby, who if their little team could be considered a family, was most likely to be the middle child. He didn't have Cho's seniority, but he was no rookie like Van Pelt.

"No I wasn't," Jane stated.

"See?" Van Pelt asked raising her eyebrows at Rigsby.

"Well, whatever," Rigsby replied and pulled off his tie while loosening his collar. "He's not wrong. We wouldn't be forced to work in a sauna if Tracey wasn't such a joiner."

"I hate joiners too," Jane offered weakly from the couch. He was too hot to exert the effort necessary to sound truly damning.

Tracey Wilcox was the head of Human Resources at the CBI, and she was probably also at one time Valedictorian of her high school, Prom Coordinator, head of her university debate team, not to mention the current chair of the PTA at all three of her children's schools and the first one to volunteer to bake a cake for a fellow employee's birthday. It was Tracey who had read about Governor Schwarzenegger's list of suggestions for a sustainable work place in a trade publication, and had decided to table a motion to adopt some of his ideas at the CBI during a quarterly HR committee meeting.

Thus, Jane, Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt would have had ample opportunity to veto Tracey's initiative to go green for a day if they'd only bothered to sign up for, and attend meetings of, their HR committee. That's the thing about joiners, you can hate them all you want, but you can't accuse them of apathy. There was only one person amongst them who was a member of both our aforementioned gang of four's team, and the HR Committee, Teresa Lisbon, their regularly scheduled team lead.

It was impossible to know just where Senior Agent Lisbon came down on the air conditioning versus no air conditioning for a day debate because for the first time in more than five years, she was vacation. Cho was in charge for the next two weeks, and it was just his luck that Boil Your Employees to Death Day occurred on his watch.

"That's it!" Cho cried and threw his book down on his desk. "I never thought I'd say this, but I really hope someone gets murdered today."

The look of shock on his teammates' faces caused him to rephrase his desires. "Okay," Cho conceded, "maybe not murdered, but attempted murder, or a felony at least! Whatever gets us out of this building."

"Might as well forget about that buddy," Rigsby said and leaned towards the fan on his desk. "This town is dead today. Even the criminals are too hot to bother with working."

Jane watched lazily as Rigsby turned his fan up. The younger agent stuck his face extremely close to the appliance and began making moaning sounds into the blades.

"Cho check this out, remember this?" Rigsby asked and settled back against the fan. "Luuuuuuke I aaaam youuuur Faaaaaather."

"Yeah, Tommy Boy, funny," Cho replied mirthlessly.

Mindless entertainment for the mindless, thought Jane, but Rigsby's little show did peak his interest for another reason. A quick scan of the office told him nearly everyone was employing some form of personal fan, in various sizes, to cool themselves while they worked. He didn't begrudge them this luxury, but one had to wonder if they didn't sort of defeat the point.

"What's the deal with all the fans?" Jane finally asked. "I mean whatever energy we're saving by turning off the AC we're burning up again with the fans. Probably more energy. I should go find Tracey and tell her."

"No!" Cho snapped. Jane had already riled Tracey up enough earlier that morning.

The spritely blond had shown up in the bull pen ready to spread good cheer and bottles of water to help cool down her colleagues. Jane had rewarded her efforts with a one fingered salute followed by a lecture on the environmental disaster that is bottled water. Tracey had endured his abuse, then turned up her nose and announced that he was right about the environmental impact of plastics, but health and safety protocol dictated that it was the only way for her to distribute water, and maybe they'd have to consider not turning on the AC tomorrow to make up for the bottle usage.

The entire office had overheard the exchange, and the prospect of another day without central air had not gone over well. In fact, Jane had been banned from using his ration of water as punishment. Soft hearted Grace had come to the rescue however, and given him one of her bottles.

"Not a chance Jane," Cho said in a more even tone. "I agree with you that Tracey is a harpy joiner, but I can't do this again tomorrow man, I just can't."

"Please," Jane said. "You were in the military. Aren't you supposed to be able to function no matter what the conditions?"

"I didn't have to work with you in the military."

"Touché."

"Hey you guys, that's enough!" Van Pelt cried. "We shouldn't be getting down on Tracey or the work conditions. We have a lot to be thankful-

A chorus of boos from her male compatriots cut Grace off but she wouldn't be deterred.

"We have a lot to be thankful for," she said again. "Jane," she pointed at the man on the couch, "is not in jail anymore and he won't be going back and-

"Right now I'd rather be in jail," Jane growled. "They had AC."

"AC and anal rape," Cho said."I'll deal with the heat thanks."

Van Pelt's frustration was written all over her face, and Rigsby, ever her champion, felt he should jump in. "Don't listen to them Grace. What else should we be grateful for?"

Van Pelt smiled brightly again and continued. "Well, Jane's not in jail, I got reinstated and Lisbon's shoulder is really coming along. She only has physiotherapy once a week now, and almost full range of movement. We're a lot better off now then we were this time last year-just saying."

The three men had the decency to look thoughtful for several seconds after Grace's soliloquy.

"She's right," Cho stated. "We're acting like babies. Tell you what. I'm going to go get us all iced coffee and donuts, on me. Then we're gonna sit here like bosses and sip them while everyone else melts in their underwear. Sound good?"

"Sounds great!" Rigsby cried. Donuts were never a bad idea in Wayne's world. "I'll come too. I wanna get out of here even if it's just to go down the road to Marie's."

"Alright," Cho said, and swept his car keys up off his desk. "Let's go. Jane, Van Pelt, you hold the fort."

Jane made a vague waving motion from the couch and Van Pelt gave Cho a salute. Once Cho and Rigsby were gone Grace attempted to do a little paper work, but it was hot, and she was bored. Plus, she'd been waiting for a moment like this-a moment to talk to Jane alone- for several weeks now. The events of the past year-her former fiancée turning out to be one of Red John's tools, having to then shoot said fiancée, Jane killing Red John and his subsequent incarceration and trial-engendered her with a strong sense of fellow feeling for the consultant. They had both lost loved ones to the serial killer, and suffered no small amount of shame along the way.

Van Pelt was dealing with it all as best she could. It had been gut-wrenching and world destroying to find out the man who claimed to love her was simply manipulating her for Red John's purposes. Couple that with Craig shooting Lisbon in the shoulder, forcing Grace to shoot him, and it got exponentially worse. She'd been reprimanded for letting O'Laughlin anywhere near the safe house he'd died in, and then relieved of duty for the duration of Jane's trial. Her only consolation was that she'd been suspended with pay, and that her friend did not get locked up for many years to come because he'd shot Red John.

Attending Jane's trial had given Grace a reason to get out of bed every morning. It reminded her that someone else-someone she cared about-was in a much worse position than her. For months she'd left her home only to attend the two C's; court and church. Eventually she'd joined a support group at her church, and the weekly meetings were helping restore her to the happy-go-lucky individual she'd been before the CBI, Red John and Craig. Her innocence was lost forever, she'd never again trust that easily, but she was starting to recover her happiness, and that was truly a miracle.

It was so miraculous in fact, that Grace longed to share it with Jane. If she could come through her experience with Red John, then surely he could. Granted, Red John hadn't murdered her entire family, but he had ruined her life and destroyed her unceasing belief that the world was in the end a good and honorable place, full of good and honorable people. Jane's recovery would no doubt take more time than hers, but Grace had to believe that now, eight years later, and after having gotten his revenge, Jane could finally make some tentative steps to heal.

To that end Grace swiveled her chair around to face her weary colleague and said, "Jane I'm bored. Let's play slap."

"Slap? Really Grace? It's so warm. Can't we do something that doesn't require me to sit up?"

"No, I want to play slap and you promised to help me get better at it. You're the one who said it would improve my poker face, and help me gauge other people's facial expressions."

Jane threw an arm over his eyes and groaned inwardly. "That was before, when we had AC."

"Please Jane? Please, please, pretty please? I'll give you my last bottle of water."

Jane opened one eye and peered out from under his arm at her. Grace was all smiles, and her hair was coiled around her head like Heidi. It was the result of a stifling and slow work day.

Her earnest smile and child like braids reminded him of another tiny face that would often greet him far too early in the morning with a beseeching wail of, Daddy I want to plaaaaay! Get up Daddy! Please, please, please!

And he always did. Like every good father he'd haul his ass out of bed and spend the next few hours doling out breakfast while allowing his person to be used as a human jungle gym. That's what great Dads did no matter how much they really wanted to sleep in or maybe, finally, have some post-children sex with their wives.

"Fine Grace," Jane said while leveraging up into a sitting position. "Let's play slap." He offered the red head a blinding smile, and held out his hands palms up.

Grace scooted her chair closer so that she was sitting directly in front of Jane, and with a nervous giggle she placed her hands, palms down just above his. With only millimeters between their hands Grace did her best to school her features into an expressionless mask.

"Good," Jane said when he noticed her effort. "Because what did I tell you the first time we tried this?"

"Not to laugh like a school girl because it was a dead give away I was about to pull my hands back, and you'd slap me."

"Correct," Jane replied. "Now I want you to really concentrate on not giving me any signals. Don't let me know when you're going to pull your hands away. Concentrate Grace. Don't let your mind scream at me."

"If you're not really psychic my mind can't scream at you," Grace quipped and pulled her hands back, but not before Jane's came down on hers with a soft smack.

"Wrong," he said and once again held his hands out, palms up. Grace fitted hers over top. "I can tell simply by the hitch in your voice, the way your eyes change focus, and by the fact you still smile slightly when you're contemplating pulling back. Your mind is regulating all of those unconscious responses Grace. This isn't something supernatural and beyond your power of control. You can stop me from anticipating your next move. You just have to try harder."

"Speaking of changing one's mind…did you read any of the stuff I left on your desk?" she asked, and hoping her question diverted Jane's attention somewhat, pulled her hands away from his.

"Nope," Jane said and quickly slapped her fingers.

"I hoped you would, but I figured you wouldn't just because the pamphlets came from my church. But, it's not a religious thing. The group counseling is for anyone Jane. You don't have to be a believer, and despite your low opinion of us, religious people actually do things out of the goodness of their hearts with no ulterior motive once in awhile."

"Conversion under the guise of group therapy is by definition an ulterior motive Grace."

Slap!

"There's no conversion! It's just people talking and healing together. There are people of all different beliefs in the group. Mr. Tan is a Buddhist and last week he taught us how to meditate."

"Whenever a church brings emotionally wounded people together in a group setting they intend to convert. It's just a matter of numbers. Some will resist, others will give in easily. The more people you open the group up to the more likely you are to yield high results."

Slap!

"Ouch! Jane!" Van Pelt drew her hands into her chest and looked at him sharply. "That one hurt! You've never really slapped me before."

It was true. He didn't have the heart to really slap poor Grace competitively. Plus, it wouldn't help her learn to control her reactions if she feared being hurt while playing. Now, if he'd been playing with Lisbon on the other hand, they'd both have red fingers by the end of it.

Still, even the best Dads have their limits, and Grace's constant needling about her church group was wearing on his last nerve. Nonetheless, an apology was in order. Grace was not his child, she was his colleague and theoretically a grown up, and thus his equal.

"I'm sorry Grace. You're getting better," Jane said, lying easily. "I had to use more force to catch you."

"Really?" she asked, smile back in place. This was why Jane considered Grace only a theoretical adult. She was too easily pleased.

"Really," he answered. "Alright, let's go again, but this time it's my turn to try and read you. I get to do the slapping."

"You know you actually have to catch my hands to slap them right?"

"I'm confident in my abilities."

"Whatever you say," Jane held his hands out, palms down.

Grace moved to place her hands underneath his, but before she could do so the phone on her desk began to ring shrilly.

"Hold on," she said and swung around to answer the phone. "Good morning, California Bureau of Investigation, Grace Van Pelt speaking. Oh, hi, Lisbon! How is two weeks off working out for you?"

Jane listened intently to Grace's one sided conversation. He could hear the inflections of Lisbon's voice coming from the phone, but he couldn't make out what she was saying.

"Did you get the right one?" Grace asked. "Tell me what the bottle says…no, yeah that's the right one. I put it on about fifteen minutes before I go out, then I do twenty minutes on my front, and twenty minutes on my back. You might want to start out with like, five or ten minutes."

What the deuce where the two women taking about? Bottles? Front and back? Jane couldn't make hide, nor hare of it.

Grace exchanged a few more pleasantries with her boss before hanging up and turning back to Jane.

"What was that all about?" Jane asked.

"Oh, it was Lisbon," Grace said as if that fact wasn't plain as day to Jane.

"And?" he asked expectantly while quirking an eyebrow.

"Well, she decided to use her first day off to sun bathe down at the Pier. And, she wanted to know what tanning lotion I use, because lets face it," Grace said extending her bare and golden arms, "It works."

"Lisbon is sun bathing?" Jane asked incredulously.

"Yeah, she bought this new bikini that sounds super cute, I haven't seen it, but she told me about it, and of course she's not totally comfortable wearing it because she's Lisbon, but I told her to go for it. You might as well, even on a stay-cation."

Jane continued to stare at Van Pelt as if she'd just told him that Lisbon was killing and eating babies.

Grace noticed his strange expression and misread it to mean condemnation.

"I know, I know, tanning is bad for you, it causes cancer, blah, blah, blah. But, I don't drink, I don't smoke and I eat well and work out. A girl's got to have one vice right? And Lisbon rarely takes any time off, so it's not like tanning is going to be a regular occurrence for her-

Jane pushed off the couch and made for the bull pen's exit without so much as sparing Grace a backwards glance.

"Jane!" she called at his back. "Where are you going? Wayne and Cho will be back any minute now!"

The consultant stopped just shy of the glass partition between their office and the hallway before spinning around.

"I don't like the sounds of this whole Lisbon lying in the sun with only tanning lotion for protection situation. What's the SPF factor in your beloved lotion?"

Grace grimaced. "It's six or eight. Eight I'm pretty sure."

"Eight!" Jane cried. "That's nothing! No, this won't do at all. Lisbon's as Irish as the bogs, and she'll burn to a crisp. Someone's going to have to bring her some SPF 50, and admonish her for being so fool hardy. And well, I'm the only one besides yourself who knows where she is, and unlike you, I'm not strictly an employee of the state. I'm free to come and go, so I think I'll being going. Bye, Grace, tell Cho I left to ensure our fearless leader doesn't get sun stroke."

"He won't like that!" Grace yelled at Jane's retreating form.

Jane, as expected, made no indication he cared one way or the other. He plunged into the elevator, and pushed the down button without a second thought for what Cho may, or may not, like. Lisbon's well being was on the line, and it gave him the perfect excuse not to have to listen to Grace's proselytizing anymore. The promise of seeing Lisbon in a possibly itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie, bikini, was in no way an extra enticement. Bringing his boss sunscreen was an act of unadulterated charity, just like Grace's church, and its inter-faith group sessions for the depressed, lonely, and easily lead.

TBC…this one won't be long, just another short chapter. Seems I enjoy the fluff in summer. Also folks, always wear your sunscreen.