A/N: I don't know how long it's been since Jane's family died, so I just pretended it was 5 years. *Hangs head in shame*

Disclaimer: Yeah, right, okay. And while I'm at it, I also own Lindt...*drools*

Patrick Jane lay on "his" sofa at the CBI, staring into space. The ring he wore on his left hand was being twisted up and down his finger restlessly. It had been five years since Red John had killed his wife and daughter. During the first three, he had never contemplated taking it off. It was the only uncontaminated link to his family. Red John had taken everything else. Even the sight of the once much-loved house made him nauseous, and the need for vengeance coursed through his veins, making his blood boil. Ever since he joined the CBI, more specifically, Agent Lisbon's team, he had started to smile again. Not that he had never smiled before them, he had, but it had always been part of his show, his mask.

Cho, with his monotonous sarcasm and stoic exterior was a true challenge to read, though he'd never admit it. Rigsby, with his childlike enthusiasm for junk food and the way that would annoy health-food obsessed van Pelt was hugely amusing. And of course, Lisbon, tough-as-nails, and yet a few well chosen words from him could make a blush cross her cheeks, was the thing that made Jane laugh in real amusement. When he was with them, he almost forgot about his family. And that terrified him, with a side of of guilt. They were murdered in cold blood. How could he forget them? He loved them, so, so much, and he missed them every day. He would sell his soul to the devil to spend one more day with his precious wife and daughter. He wanted Red John to suffer for what he did, suffer like he had.

But at the same time, when he thought about finding him, the team's faces would swim in his vision. Rigsby, with his head in the fridge, van Pelt smiling and bringing lightheartedness to the team, Cho, with his nose in a book, and Lisbon's eyes lighting up in pure delight as she saw the pony he bought for her. If he killed Red John, they would hurt. They would hurt deeply.

And that made him angry. He didn't deserve that. He couldn't protect his family, he didn't deserve to be cared for again. He was always getting them into trouble. They shouldn't care. And yet they did, they had proven that when he had resigned from the CBI to get Jared Renfrew out of jail. They had gotten suspended for him. Well, kind of. But they had been willing to risk the most important thing in their lives. For him. He couldn't imagine what kind of pain they would go through if they had to arrest him.

Lisbon had told him that they needed him, that they cared for him. But he had promised his wife, his child, and himself that he would avenge their deaths. He would just have to make sure they didn't know where he had gone off to when he found and murdered Red John. He would make it impossible to find evidence. He owed them that much.

His attention was brought back to the ring he was playing with. The past two years with Lisbon's team had made him almost human inside. Their attempts to understand...their encouraging...the way they cared...it was amazing. He was sure he didn't deserve it. Without thinking, he pulled the ring off. The sight of the tanned skin around the band of pale sent a jolt through his entire body and he quickly slipped it back on. Jane looked around quickly,wondering if anyone had noticed. As his ever observant blue eyes took in the room, he saw that no one had. Cho was reading a thriller, Rigsby was doing paperwork, munching on carrot sticks (no doubt some of van Pelt's habits had stuck with him) and van Pelt herself was researching something on the computer.

He felt a stare on the back of his head and quickly turned around, seeing a wide-eyed Lisbon standing outside her office staring at his hands. She flushed immediately as they locked gazes.

"Guys!" she called, the mask of professionalism slipping back into place. "Gear up, we got a case. Head over to 241 St. Hyacinth, 2 miles west from here. A body was found in an orchid, stab wounds to the chest."

There were mumbles of "About time," and "Thank God, I thought I was gonna go crazy doing paperwork!". Lisbon rolled her eyes good-naturedly and and herded them out the bullpen.

Jane was slow to get off the couch, still staring in shock at his ring.

"Hey, Jane!" Lisbon called. He looked up, sure she was going to yell at him to hurry up, and already formulating the perfect response. "That took guts," She said, green eyes softer than he had ever seen them. "I'm...I'm really proud of you."

He gave her a smile, one of the rare real ones, although it was still shaky. "I appreciate that Lisbon."

"I mean if it were me, I would've...what I'm trying to say is that I know how hard it is...well, I don't know specifically what you went through, of course..." she trailed off, looking frustrated. "I'm rambling, aren't I?"

He chuckled. "Afraid so, my dear."

"Wonderful," she grumbled, exiting the bullpen with Jane in tow.

He guided her out, resting his hand lightly on the small of her back. "On another note, I must say, I'm flattered I can make you speechless."

Jane held in a chuckle as he watched the flush spread across her cheeks for the second time in ten minutes. If he had laughed outright, he knew he would have been tasered. Or worse, she would have taken away his precious couch. Suppressing, a shiver at the horrible thought, he watched her mouth open and close soundlessly.

"Bite me, Jane." she managed at last.

"Anywhere for you," he replied easily. She growled and almost ran for the elevators. He would probably get a stapler thrown at him later in the day for that, but watching Lisbon get flustered and let down her guard was completely worth it.

"Jane! Are you coming or not?" she called, holding an elevator door open.

He sauntered towards her, grin firmly in place, ready to face another day. Maybe tomorrow, the ring would come off. Patrick Jane had finally realized the ring wasn't important. It was the memories, of his wife laughing and squealing as he and his daughter sprayed her with water guns on a hot summer's day or of his daughter saying her first word. It was the memories that would stay with him.