Disclaimer - The Mentalist belongs to Bruno Heller and CBS. Not me. Obviously.

A/N - Hello! This story is a bit of departure for me and I'm pretty nervous about it to be honest. All the stories I've written so far on this site have been in the Harry Potter realm, but obviously this one isn't.

I've loved The Mentalist since it first made its way across the pond into Britain, and Patrick Jane is one of the most fascinating characters around. I took a break from it for a while, but recently I've been re-watching Season 3, and it was that which gave me the inspiration to write this little story.

Thank you to Nerwen Aldarion for all your help with it. It's set at the end of Cackle-Bladder Blood (S3, Ep 2), and I really hope you like it!

Blood Ties

Part One

Sighing slightly as she glanced around her darkened office, Teresa Lisbon put down the report she'd been reading and ran a tired hand over her face. It had been a very long day – satisfying, since the team had solved yet another murder – but very, very long.

It was getting close to midnight now, and she had sent her team home hours ago. The only reason she herself was still in the office was because she had finish up all the paperwork pertaining to the case. It had been pretty messy towards the conclusion, especially with Jane's plan to use his con-man brother-in-law, Danny Ruskin, to catch the murderer - by faking his own death, no less. Lisbon, needless to say, had been left with a lot of reports to fill in over the incident. Danny had eventually been cleared of the murder thankfully, but she knew he was by no means an innocent man. The only reason she had let him leave at all was because of Jane.

The case had been hard on him from the start.

Her paperwork, therefore, wasn't the only reason she hadn't gone home yet. Jane had been quiet from the moment Danny had 'escaped', and it was obvious, to her at least, that he was dwelling on something troubling, even more so than usual. He'd so far kept his thoughts firmly to himself though, and since she lacked his special talents, Lisbon knew she'd never be able to guess what was going on in his head.

It didn't stop her worrying though.

Obviously, even discounting the return of his late wife's brother, Jane had clearly not enjoyed dredging up his past. He'd been light-hearted and cheerful from the beginning, but Lisbon hadn't missed the slight tightening of his jaw or the narrowing of his eyes when they'd first arrived at the carnival, nor the uneasiness with which he talked about his life in that circle. He always claimed that he didn't have tells, but Lisbon had known him long enough now to know when he was uncomfortable. And from the moment they had stepped on carnival ground, it had been clear to her that Jane had wanted to be somewhere, anywhere else.

Why though, she couldn't even begin to guess. Jane had had his mask on firmly from the start.

Lisbon shook herself slightly and stretched, pulling herself wearily to her feet. She had stayed there long enough; Jane was a big boy, and no matter what was bothering him, she was sure he'd be fine. It wasn't as if she could make him confide in her, and truthfully, it probably wasn't any of her business. They all had their secrets after all.

No, she'd waited long enough. It was time to go home.

As she made her way quietly out of her office, turning the light off as she did so, Lisbon's eyes wandered over to the corner of the bullpen. She sighed slightly, but in truth she wasn't all that surprised to see her blond consultant lying there on his worn-out couch, apparently fast asleep with his head resting in his arms.

The bullpen was quiet, since everyone had gone home for the night, but Jane had obviously decided that he was staying in the office tonight even without the company. She briefly considered forcing him to go home, but she dismissed the idea almost immediately. In the end, Lisbon couldn't seem to make herself do that to him. It was no secret that he suffered from insomnia; if he felt he could get more sleep here, who was she to question it?

A sharp ringtone interrupted her thoughts. Instinctively her hand moved to her own phone, but after a moment she realised the tone was actually coming from across the room; from Jane. She watched as he stirred in his sleep at the shrill sound, pulling himself up wearily as he reached to take the ringing phone out of his vest pocket and put it up to his ear, stifling a yawn as he did so.

She considered leaving then, but something compelled her to stay. Jane rarely got phone calls when they weren't on a case, and when he did, it almost always meant trouble. She frowned as she watched Jane from the doorway of her darkened office. He hadn't noticed her yet, which was worrying in itself.

Lisbon felt a tingling of apprehension run through her as a maelstrom of emotion crossed Jane's face, the phone still firmly fixed to his ear. Even from the other side of the room, she could see that he was distracted; upset and shaken by whoever he was talking to. Immediately her thoughts went to Red John, and she found herself hoping beyond all hope that it wasn't the monster torturing Jane. It was the last thing any of them needed, least of all him, especially after this case.

But then, who else would affect him this badly?

Jane's voice rose, and she heard snippets of the angry conversation, even from her position by her office. And though her mind told her she was being nosy and intrusive, Lisbon couldn't help but strain her ears. Someone was bothering him, and whether he liked it or not, that made it her problem too.

"...No, I don't want to meet you." Jane snapped. "I left that life behind for a reason."

Lisbon, despite her apprehension, began to suspect that this wasn't Red John at all. Aside from Jane's words, there was a distinct absence of fear in his eyes. It was that emotion in particular, however, that she had come to associate him with every time a Red John murder came up; sadness, anger, and always a little bit of fear. The fact that fear was absent now, especially in his expression, gave Lisbon a little bit of hope to cling to.

Not that Jane was ever scared for himself, of course. No, he was simply terrified about what Red John would do next and who else would be killed. He was scared of not being able to stop him.

It was something she could sympathise with. She shared that fear herself.

"...Don't bother trying to contact me again. Goodbye."

She watched with no small amount of concern as Jane snapped the phone shut and closed his eyes, obviously trying to calm himself down after the phone conversation he'd just had, all traces of sleep now gone. With a dawning sense of fear, Lisbon realised that Jane really was rattled.

Jane was never rattled.

Slowly, Lisbon made her way across the deserted room and over to his couch. As she approached, Jane didn't even open his eyes, but nor did he put down his phone. He was perfectly still, but she wasn't fooled by his lack of reaction.

"Eavesdropping, Lisbon?"

Lisbon simply sat down beside him on the couch, choosing not to reply. A small amount of guilt rose up within her but she pushed it down in favour of trying to help him. She knew all about his personal vendetta against Red John, they all did, but if Jane had been contacted by the serial-killer, they had a right to know, whether he wanted them to or not.

Jane still kept his eyes shut, but Lisbon could see annoyance flash across his face, along with something else that she couldn't quite identify. She steeled herself, ready to defend her actions, but one glance at his slightly shaking hands and she changed her mind.

"Jane?" she asked cautiously. "Everything alright?"

"It wasn't Red John," he said, opening his eyes as he turned on the couch to face her. His expression was serious, but there was sincerity there, and she felt relief flood through her.

"How did you – ?"

"Please, it was obvious you were dying to ask, Lisbon." Jane rolled his eyes, but there was something wrong about the action; almost as if it was more forced than usual.

Jane turned his attention back to the phone in his hands, apparently lost in thought. Her relief at realising it hadn't been Red John was quickly replaced with apprehension. Jane had his fair share of enemies, but she'd rarely seen him as shaken as he was now.

"Then who?" she asked quietly, unsure of how much he'd be willing to reveal.

He sighed deeply, his eyes dropping back to his hands. "My father."

Jane kept his eyes fixed on the phone in his hand, determined not to meet her gaze after his admission. In all honesty, he wasn't sure why he'd revealed the truth to Lisbon. Obviously she would never have left without an answer, but he could've lied to her quite effectively, they both knew that. It wasn't like he hadn't lied to her in the past.

But it had been a long time since Jane had heard from his father, and apparently he was more shaken by it than he'd first thought. He'd almost been expecting something like this, ever since he'd realised that he would have to make contact with some of the old crowd on the Carnie circuit. There had always been the possibility that someone, one of the older acts who had been around when he'd been growing up, would let Alex Jane know what had become of his son. He'd hoped that wouldn't be the case, but he'd tried to prepare himself anyway. Apparently the phone call had affected him more than he'd originally anticipated.

Turning slightly, Jane glanced at Lisbon. She wasn't looking at him, but Jane could see her expression as clear as day; shock, confusion and something he couldn't quite identify. Pity? Sympathy?

Jane shook his head slightly, trying to get a hold of himself. He could tell Lisbon was dying to know more. It was one of the things he liked most about her actually. She an insatiable curiosity within her that gave her an almost innate desire to know everything. It was part of what made her such a good cop.

Of course, unlike him, she also possessed boundaries. Lisbon would never ask him about the phone call herself, and if he chose not to expand on what he had already admitted, it was highly likely she'd drop the subject and never mention it again.

But did he want that?

Lisbon, he realised, was one of the few people he knew who perhaps could understand why this phone call had affected him so badly. Their pasts were not too dissimilar after all, not that he had ever revealed as much to her of course.

He knew, for example, that she had suffered at the hands of an alcoholic father, but she in turn knew next to nothing about his own childhood. Obviously she knew he had grown up amongst carnies, and that he'd learnt his tricks there, but he'd purposefully kept everything else to himself.

Apparently, avoidance of the issue wasn't going to work now though, and he found himself infinitely glad that the bullpen was deserted and that it was just him and her. His past wasn't something he wanted the rest of the team to know. They all had their fair share of secrets, but this was one that no one else could possibly understand, and their pity would be unnecessary and unbearable. Lisbon though...

If he was the poster boy for messed up childhoods, she was the poster girl.

They had both been motherless from a young age, and both of their fathers had left much to be desired. Jane knew, from what little Lisbon had revealed to him over the course of their friendship, that she'd had to become responsible and independent from a young age, and that was another experience Jane shared with her, though not quite in the same way. Lisbon, he knew, had effectively raised her three brothers almost single-handedly after her mother's death, whereas he'd been forced to earn and save enough money to keep him and his father in food and shelter, while at the same time trying to keep them both out of jail.

Oh, there was no denying it. He and Lisbon had both been forced to grow up far too fast.

Of course, they had both reacted very differently to their equally bad circumstances. Like the coward he was, instead of facing up to the problem and standing up for himself, he had run away from the carnival and from his father and had never looked back. In the years that had followed, as he'd moved on with his life, instead of dealing with his past, Jane had forced his mind away from any thoughts of his childhood and his father, barely ever dwelling on it.

In fact, whenever he thought of his childhood now, however rare the compulsion was, Jane always tried to focus on the few good memories he had from that time in his life. He had always ruthlessly ignored anything to do with his father since any memories involving the man were invariably bad.

His childhood experiences were actually one of the reasons he avoided physical conflict so much now, although Lisbon and the team weren't to know that. They thought it was simply because he was a civilian, unused to violence, but that wasn't quite true. No, violence always reminded him of a part of his life that he'd always tried so hard to forget.

Lisbon though...when she'd been faced with bad circumstances, she had met the problem head on. Glancing at her now, Jane knew that she'd probably never even once considered running away, no matter how bad it had gotten for her. She'd just taken the burden on her shoulders and carried on, and it had made her a better person for it. Jane found himself slightly envious of her. She had buried her demons long ago.

Maybe she could help him bury some of his too.

"My father just called me," he repeated quietly, his characteristic grin nowhere to be found. His light green-blue eyes rose to meet hers, and for once he didn't bother to put on his mask.

Lisbon had been watching him closely as he'd lost himself in his thoughts, and Jane saw a flash of understanding cross over her expression. In all the years that he had worked with her, he'd let certain parts of his past slip - particularly during their last case - but such instances had always been few and far between. It definitely wasn't much, but now he wondered how many of the gaps she had filled in herself.

"Is everything okay?" she asked again with a frown, and he decided that for once he would be completely truthful with her. It was late, he was tired, fed-up and more than anything, he hated the fact that the unexpected phone call was forcing him to deal with things he had long tried to avoid.

"Not really," he replied quietly.

Jane knew, without even looking at Lisbon, that her concern for him had just doubled. It was rare, almost unheard of really, for him to admit that things were bothering him, since he preferred more often than not to simply joke and smile his way through life. Even when Red John cases came along, he usually just became quieter and more intense than usual. More focused. It might have been clear to the team that he wasn't okay, but never had he really admitted it before, and he knew that it had shocked her slightly now.

She didn't reply though, instead waiting for him to elaborate, and Jane found himself amused slightly, even despite his rather rattled mood. Lisbon probably didn't intend it, or even realise it, but she was working with her cop instincts, waiting for him to make the first move like she often would during an interrogation. However, even though he knew she was only doing it out of concern, he couldn't help but be slightly insulted that she was treating him like a suspect who was hiding something.

Jane decided it was time to take a little control of the conversation.

"You're a Catholic," he began, turning on the couch so that he could see her properly. She seemed surprised by the turn of the conversation, and he found himself trying to hide a smirk. "Does that whole...confession jazz help? Does it make you feel better?"

"We don't confess to make ourselves feel better, Jane," she replied, her tone reverting back to annoyed almost immediately, something he was infinitely more used to dealing with when it came to Teresa Lisbon.

"I know," he said, rolling his eyes. "But does it? Does it help?"

"Sometimes," Lisbon nodded, her brow furrowed slightly in confusion at what he was trying to get at. "Not always...but yeah, sometimes."

Jane lost himself in his thoughts, steeling himself slightly. The only person he had ever talked to about his father had been Angela, and she'd already known most of it already. This was going to be infinitely more difficult, but he didn't see any other option. He honestly didn't know how to deal with the phone call from his father, and as much as he would like to just pretend it hadn't happened, Jane knew he had to deal with it, in one way or another.

"He used to beat me when I was a kid," Jane said suddenly, his tone matter-of-fact despite his heavily beating heart. "My father, I mean. It wasn't anything near to what you went through, but obviously it still wasn't particularly...pleasant."

She looked shocked and concerned, but not necessarily surprised. "Jane..."

"Hear me out Lisbon," he interrupted, steeling himself once again. "I'm going to give this confession malarkey a go. And since we're a bit short of priests here at the CBI, you, my Catholic friend, will have to do."

She nodded reluctantly, but didn't say anything and he took that as permission to go on.

"It didn't happen often," Jane continued, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "The other carnies liked me, and they'd look after me from time to time. Whenever he was particularly angry, I'd always sleep in one of their trailers instead to give him time to calm down. Pete's trailer mostly. Of course, there's only so much they could do. I was still his responsibility after all. Carnie rules are different to normal society. There's an unspoken rule that everybody minds their own business, and everyone deals with their own."

"So no one did anything?" Thankfully there was no pity in her expression, only understanding, and Jane counted himself lucky to have a friend like her.

"I didn't go to school, Lisbon," he reminded her with an uncharacteristically awkward smile. "And we moved around too much for anyone to take much notice. It doesn't help that most people don't see carnie folk as real citizens. 'Normal' people just don't want to get involved."

She looked sad at his last admission, but thankfully she didn't ask him to elaborate. Jane wasn't sure what else he could say.

"Your father didn't let you go to school, did he?" she noted instead, and it was a statement rather than a question. She'd taken the conversation in her stride so far, which he realised had been exactly what he'd needed.

"Meh," Jane shrugged unconcernedly, though he didn't meet her eyes. "He didn't want me seeing how good other kids had it. I knew though. I was always more observant than most."

He smirked at her, and she offered her own small grin at his words. Jane felt a little relief flood through him. She was still his Lisbon, and more importantly, she was still acting normally towards him. He didn't need or want pity, but she seemed unwilling to give it to him anyway.

"It's not like it mattered much anyway," Jane continued, his smirk growing as he boasted, falling into his cheerful persona with ease. "I was probably better teaching myself anyway. School curriculums are so...constricting."

She rolled her eyes, and he beamed at her, glad that they could still enjoy their banter, even during a conversation like this. Lisbon truly was unlike anyone else he knew.

"What did your father want?" she asked after a long moment, and the question sobered them both up slightly. "Not that I blame you, but I get the feeling you don't talk much with him."

Jane nodded at her deduction and moved to explain.

"In the carnie world, you're either in or out," he began quietly. "Once I ran away with Angela, I was out. He hasn't once spoken to me, or tried to contact me since then. Not even when Charlotte was born. Or when Red John..."

"Jane..."

He soldiered on. "For him to want to meet up with me now? I suspect he's dying," Jane continued bluntly. "Either that or he's in some sort of trouble, and he needs my help to get him out of it. I can't say I care much whichever it is. I always knew he might try and talk to me once I returned to the carnie world, but I admit, I had hoped that he wouldn't hear about where I was or how to contact me."

Lisbon nodded like she understood, and he supposed she did in a way.

"Was it only beatings?" she prompted after a long moment, and Jane found himself surprised that she was going to question him about this. Part of him wanted to stop this conversation now, but he knew from the look on her face that she was getting no pleasure from this. She was trying to help him, and he decided for once to let her.

"I didn't have a bed when I was a boy," Jane admitted. "I slept on the couch for most of my childhood because we couldn't afford a trailer with two bedrooms."

He saw dawning comprehension light across her face as she glanced down to the worn old couch they were sitting on, and he felt himself suppress a smile. It was true, after all. There was something about sleeping on a couch that still brought him a little comfort, a sense of familiarity. Yes, it reminded him of his childhood but, despite the abuse, it had been a simpler time, a time in which he'd still had a little bit of innocence left. And to be fair, it hadn't been all bad.

"What about your mother?" she asked gently, her green eyes boring into his, and his thoughts turned serious once again.

"Dead," Jane answered bluntly, but he forced himself to go on. "She died when I was five."

It must have been clear to Lisbon that he didn't want to talk about his mother, because she fell silent then, apparently content at this point for him to direct the conversation himself. She was quiet but her expression was firm, simply waiting patiently for him to speak whilst also making it clear that she wasn't about to go anywhere. Strangely, Jane felt relief flood through him at the thought, although he wasn't quite sure why.

Instead of dwelling on it though, Jane decided to simply take the opportunity she was offering.

"I hate him, you know," Jane said, looking towards the phone that he still hadn't put down. "Part of me...part of me blames him for what happened with Red John."

She seemed confused, and in all honesty, he couldn't blame her. "What do you mean?"

"If he hadn't made me what I was," Jane began somewhat shakily. "If he hadn't started me on that path...I wouldn't have taunted Red John, and Angela and Charlotte would still be alive."

"Jane..."

"I know it's still my fault," he interrupted, waving off her concern. "But a part of me can't help but blame him too. I can let the other things go, but that? I'm not sure I can forgive him for that."

Lisbon was silent for a long time then, and he wondered if he'd bothered her by bringing up Red John. She usually didn't like the way he talked about the serial killer, and Jane supposed he couldn't entirely blame her for that either.

"Then don't meet him."

"What?" Jane asked, surprised for once by her answer. "I'd thought for sure you be all 'Let bygones be bygones.'"

She levelled a look at him that told him she thought he was being stupid again. "Me? With my family history?"

"I'm not you, Lisbon."

She shrugged. "You're not that different."

He didn't agree, despite his earlier thoughts, but he let it go for now. Sighing slightly, he stretched his legs and ran a tired hand over his face. For the first time since Lisbon had come over to talk to him, he realised how late it actually was.

"Shouldn't you be at home by now?" he asked quietly. "It's late."

"I'm fine, Jane," she answered, but the tiredness in her eyes was impossible for her to conceal.

"Go home, Lisbon," he said, his tone mock-stern. "I have no desire to deal with any crankiness from you tomorrow, so please go home and sleep. For all our sakes."

She ignored the insult and looked into his eyes, as if trying to work out if he could really be trusted to be left alone. He felt mildly insulted and was about to defend himself when she pulled herself off the couch.

"Look after yourself, Jane," she told him, concern clear in her green eyes.

"Ah, you know me, Lisbon," Jane said, his tone joking. "It's not like I'm known to obsess over these things or anything."

Lisbon let out a small snort at that, but there was still a little bit of worry still there, and Jane found that he wanted to ease that worry a bit.

"There's something to be said for this confession thing, though," Jane said with a grin. "Maybe I'll join you in church on Sunday."

His tone was teasing and she caught his mischievous grin almost immediately. She replied with her own teasing grin.

"I'd shoot you before you got through the door," she smirked. "And there's not a judge or a jury in the land that would convict me."

Jane simply replied with a grin, his smile becoming more and more natural the longer he talked to her. After a long moment, in which she seemed to scrutinise his very sanity, Lisbon turned and began to walk to the door, turning back to face him only when she reached the threshold.

"Night, Jane," she said, her face serious but with amusement still dancing in her eyes. Jane didn't reply at once, his thoughts sobering slightly.

"What would you do?" he asked with a frown, ignoring her goodbye for the moment. His expression was vulnerable in a way it rarely was these days, and Lisbon seemed to have caught the seriousness of his question.

She paused, but seemed to consider her answer carefully. "I'd call him back and listen to what he has to say. It'd be good to get some closure at least."

Jane nodded as her words sunk in. "Night, Lisbon," he replied with a genuine smile. "And thanks."

She nodded in acknowledgement but didn't say anything as she turned to leave. As she finally left him alone in the bullpen, Jane was slightly surprised to find that he missed her presence. He'd gotten very used to being lonely in the last ten years, but for the first time in a long time, part of him wished he wasn't quite so alone now.

He almost called her back, but in the end he didn't. She was clearly exhausted, and as much as she had helped him clear his thoughts about his past, it was his burden to bear, and his alone.

Sighing deeply, Jane realised that for the first time in a long time, he felt ready to bear that burden. Over the years, a lot had been taken from him and he had been pushing things away for a long time, but he didn't want to run from this anymore.

Closure sounded good.

Mind made up, Jane flipped open his phone and brought up the number of the last call he'd received. Pausing for only a moment, Jane pressed the call button and brought the phone to his ear, waiting for the call to be answered. After two rings, it was.

"Patrick?"

Jane sighed slightly, but didn't hang up.

"Hello, father."

A/N - So how was it? This story isn't going to be very long (I think I'll maybe add one or two more chapters at most), but I'd welcome any suggestions you have of things you might want to see. Jane's past is something that has always fascinated me, and I really hope that there are others like me out there. I'd really like to hear from you! Thanks for reading!