A/N: So, last week I bought Paloma Faith's second album, Fall to Grace, and have been kind of addicted to it since. Unfortunately (or fortunately?) I found many of the songs inspiring, especially for Jane/Lisbon, and as a consequence, decided I had to try and write one in for each track.

I'll be dealing with the songs in order, and the fic titles will take on the title of the track in question.

That's it for now.

x tromana

Title: Picking Up the Pieces
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Jane/Lisbon
Summary: There's days when he just looks at you and you have to wonder what's going on in his mind.
Disclaimer: Not mine
Notes: Written for the Paint It Red Monthly Challenge. Prompt: Three words that can change your life forever. Also for Prompt Table D on Paint It Red. Prompt: 03. Chasing Ghosts.

Picking Up the Pieces

You've inherited the husk of a man. Patrick Jane isn't whole and you suspect that he never will be. All you can do is try and help him get by. It's a task you take on willingly; being the fixer is an inherent part of your characteristics. That's something you've had to do since childhood and never really grown out of. Why would you, after all the conditioning you went through as a kid?

Despite telling yourself not to fall for him and that it'd only end in heartache, it still happened. Deep down, you know that it was inevitable, but it doesn't abate the deep seated fears that quell inside. Everything about this situation is wrong. He's not ready and you sure as hell aren't, either. However, the heart is stronger than the mind and you're learning that the hard way.

Just because you're convinced that this is only going to end in pain, it doesn't mean it actually will. You can't see what the future will hold, can you?

But that thought isn't enough to prevent that irritating itch at the back of your mind.

There's days when he just looks at you and you have to wonder what's going on in his mind.

If he's comparing you to his deceased wife.

What similarities you and she share.

If he resents you from being too alike – or too different – from her.

You know so little about Angela Ruskin-Jane that it's hard to tell. In theory, you could press him for information about her, ask what she was like, why he loved her so, what made her tick, but it isn't your place to ask. Not even now, when you've been dancing towards a relationship for years, and have finally given into the need for one another.

Although, you can never be sure if that need is equal, can you? While there's no doubt in your part, as much as you think you know Patrick Jane, you're certain there's more to learn about him. Always two steps behind him, that's the way you see it.

And, yet, it still feels like you're destined just to help patch him back together, no more and no less.

Deep down, you know he's still capable of love, which is why you willing accept the scant breadcrumbs he throws in your direction. They're a promise of things to come, you have to tell yourself. Or at least, that's what you say when the cynical devil on your shoulder claims otherwise.

It never gets any easier, competing with a ghost. There are good days and bad days, and sometimes you cannot be sure if the positives really do outweigh the negatives.

But there has to be a reason he said yes, doesn't there?

He had even been willing to run the risk with Red John breathing down your respective necks. Just as you had been; if you hadn't, then this beautiful mess would never have been on the table.

You wouldn't have been filled with self-doubted and have continual crises of confidence.

However, Red John isn't an issue any more.

You remember the day he died, as clear as day.

How Jane had broken down in racking sobs and you'd held him, unable to offer any other kind of support. This had been a relief reserved especially for him. Even though you've had your own trials and tribulations in the past, and even though you were inexplicably linked to the Red John case, you couldn't understand just what it's like to come home and see that smiley face on the wall.

It's a fear that had been instilled in you until the very moment you received the phone call stating that he'd died. What if Red John had gotten bored of targeting Jane, and decided to play with you instead? After all, there had been occasions when he'd shown a vested interest in you as well.

But that's beside the point now. He's dead and gone.

Even if it had been in one of the least expected ways. You'd always hoped to apprehend him, to put him behind bars and on death row, just as he deserved. And you know that Jane always kept clinging hold of his latent desire of revenge. Whenever he stated he wouldn't object to your arresting him, those seeds of doubt sprouted in your mind. However, neither of you had gotten you way. Instead, Red John had died in a freak accident. The crash of a private airplane had claimed his life and ended his scourge on the state of California.

It's not enough to quell the arguments though. The spats seem to get more heated and more personal each time.

The team always knows when you're fighting; they always did in the past, so why would it be any different now?

Neither of you is above the silent treatment, nor damning the other one to hell. Eventually, shame-faced, one of you (usually you), relents for the comfort of the other's arms. Even with your problems, the seemingly unbalanced relationship, your desperate doubts, you know you work better together.

It's the reason why he's still on your team. And why you'll never kick him out of your home, now that he's (sort of) moved in.

A work related argument so easily turns into a personal one. On this occasion, you're as mad as hell at him for winding up the ADA and getting you both kicked out of court. He cannot see the problem because the case was an open-and-shut one and he doesn't even know why he needed to give evidence this time. Sometimes, you wonder if Jane can go anywhere without causing a scene. Usually, you just claim that it adds color to the day. However, there are occasions when you just wish he would hold his tongue.

Somewhere along the line, he brings up Angela and it shocks you to the core. You don't talk about his family and for good reason. It's the one wound of his you've never been able to heal, even if you have managed to put a band-aid on it and cover it up.

"I'm always going to be second best, aren't I?" you explode, in a fit of rage and immediately regret it.

This specific argument has hit its peak now and you can feel the energy ebbing out of you. This isn't fair, but then again, it was never going to be. You've always known that being with him isn't easy, that you've got to take the rough with the smooth. However, it's times like this which make you wish you could take a step back and walk away.

But you can't, because that's just not you.

"No, you're not," he whispers and takes a step towards you.

His simple statement takes you aback. It's the last thing you expected to ever slip out of his mouth. After all, how could you ever compete with her? Grief means that Jane pictures her with the rose tinted glasses firmly on and you cannot fault him for that. Even so, it doesn't change the fact that you're just here, dealing with what's left with him.

And that still applies even now, after Red John.

He catches hold of your wrist and ordinarily you'd snatch it back in a pique of rage. You know that he's doing this simply to measure your pulse, to read you via something as uncontrollable as your heart rate and you don't like it when he plays his tricks on you. However, you're sick and tired of this and don't want to start off yet another argument.

"You never were," he adds eventually, staring you directly in the eye.

You can't help but wonder if – finally – he actually means it this time.

All you can do is hope that he does.