A/N This is a bit of a different kind of story for me. It turned into something I didn't really expect.

I'd like to dedicate this to my grandma, who's currently in hospital recovering from a stroke. I got the idea for it while I was at her place getting her things for her stay in hospital.

Rated K+

Disclaimer: Not mine.

If someone had asked Grace Van Pelt how she thought her workday would end, she probably wouldn't have answered 'riffling through her boss' underwear drawer." Though she supposed that was the thing about working for CBI, you never knew what might come next.

Flushing in embarrassment, she dragged out some plain black panties and a matching bra and stuffed them into the bag at her feet. There were just some things she didn't want to know about her friend and mentor, and her taste in underwear was one of them. She consulted the scribbled list in her hand, and then wrenched open another drawer, snatching up a pair of socks.

Of course, she didn't generally make a habit of going through Lisbon's personal property, (she wasn't Jane after all) but tonight she was on a mission.

Lisbon was in the hospital. She'd received a hard blow to the head from a tire iron during a suspect's attempt to escape, resulting in ten stitches and a moderate concussion. Thankfully, the damage was a lot less severe than it might have been, but the doctor had still insisted on keeping her in overnight for observation.

After trying in vain to talk him out of the idea, Lisbon had eventually given in and asked Van Pelt to swing by her place and pick up some things she'd need for the night, after forcefully declining Jane's offer to perform the task. Grace could quite easily understand why. Having an unsupervised Patrick Jane poking around her apartment was no doubt a rather distressing thought.

Closing the dresser drawer with a little more force than she'd meant to, a photograph perched on the top skittered a little and fell on its side. She picked it up and examined the picture of three young boys, presumably Lisbon's younger brothers. Clearly this was quite an old photograph, as they would have all reached adulthood by now. The three boys all had brown hair like their sister, in varying shades of darkness, but it seemed that none of them shared her green eyes.

She'd always been curious about her boss' family background, but after being reprimanded for asking her about it once back when she'd just been appointed to the team, hadn't done so since.

She set the photograph back in its original place with a little sigh. No doubt Jane knew the whole story by now, the two of them were notorious for keeping things to themselves and for disappearing periodically into Jane's attic hideaway to discuss God-only-knew-what for hours upon hours.

She often wondered what he could possibly be doing up there that was so important, and so secret, that nobody but Lisbon could be trusted with the knowledge. In a way, it was almost insulting. Hadn't she proven to him by now that she was no friend to Red John? She'd killed her own fiancé for heaven's sake, after finding out that he was the serial killer's mole. She approached every aspect of the Red John case with the same dedication and thoroughness as she would any other. And yet, more and more these days, Jane and Lisbon seemed to be forming their own little sub-team of two, while she, Cho and Rigsby constantly had to play catch-up.

But she digressed.

She proceeded across the room to the bedside table, where Lisbon had indicated she would find a book she was currently reading. Her sleeve brushed against something small, sending it tumbling to the floor. She picked it up and examined it with slight confusion. A bedside table to her had always been reserved for the most treasured of treasured possessions. She herself kept an antique mirror in hers; handed down from her grandmother. But what on earth could be so special about this paper frog? It wasn't exactly in pristine condition; the paper was crinkled and torn in places, indicating it was some years old. But Lisbon had held onto it, even had afforded it the place of honour by her bedside. It clearly had some kind of sentimental value. An old gift from her niece, perhaps?

She picked up the book and the small booklight beside it, and dropped them both into the bag.

She went to the closet and packed a pair of jeans and a sweater, and then the bathroom, where she gathered together some basic toiletries. The bag now was nearly full, and she pulled out the list one more time to double-check that she hadn't missed anything. She ran her finger down the list, mentally ticking things off, eventually pausing next to 'cell phone charger.' She couldn't help but smile; it was so typically Lisbon to want her cell phone in a hospital, where she wasn't even supposed to have it on. She walked out of the bedroom and crossed through the small living area towards the kitchen, where Lisbon had told her she'd find the charger plugged into the wall.

The living room was small, just a couch, a coffee table and a TV. It all seemed like the décor of a mostly solitary existence; she could imagine her boss sitting here on her own in the dark after a long day of work. It was a sad thought.

On the coffee table was another photograph, this time of the team. She remembered the picture being taken at last year's Christmas party. Brenda Shettrick had been prowling around the room, constantly looking for good PR opportunities, and she'd come across them all gathered at a table near the back. After some negotiation, which had included an attempted hypnotism by Jane, and a threat of Bertram's wrath by Brenda, Lisbon had irritably consented to one photograph.

Their boss's reluctance aside, it had turned out to be a great picture, and Grace made a mental note to ask Brenda for a copy the next time she saw her.

She got back to the hospital to find Lisbon sitting up in bed, and Jane lounging in the hard plastic chair at her side as though it were as comfortable as his couch. He'd been close to frantic when they'd first brought her in, but now it was clear that she was going to be all right, he seemed a good deal calmer.

"Thank you, Grace," Lisbon said, as she placed the heavy bag at the foot of her bed. "I'm sorry to put you out like that."

"May I remind you ladies that I was more than willing to do it, and save Van Pelt the bother," chipped in Jane.

"Over my dead body," Lisbon snapped. "The last thing I need is you invading any further into my life."

"Or is it that you've got something hidden there that you don't want me to find?" he countered.

Lisbon's reply was silenced by the arrival of a young nurse holding a cup of tea, which to Van Pelt's bemusement, she handed to Jane instead of Lisbon.

"Here you go, Patrick," she trilled, blushing, as he smiled in thanks.

"Nicole, you're an angel," he said.

"Oh, stop it," said Nicole, in a most unconvincing display of embarrassment. "A girl ought to watch her step with men like you around, Patrick. I'll bet you've broken more than your fair share of hearts."

"Not to mention state and federal laws," said Lisbon, in a perfectly audible undertone, which Jane ignored, as Nicole batted her eyelashes at him once more, and sauntered out the door. Lisbon glared after her.

"You're on a first name basis with the nurse?" asked Grace, incredulously.

"He's got the entire nursing staff twisted around his little finger," Lisbon explained, rolling her eyes. "He not only managed to get me into a private room, but somehow got himself unlimited visiting time too. Whether I want him here or not." She glowered at him.

"I just told them that I couldn't bear to be away from her for the night, and they were all very accommodating," he said.

"Accommodating, my ass," Lisbon snorted. "I'm sure they're all standing around out there hoping I'll die in my sleep, so they can be extra 'accommodating' to you tomorrow. Nicole in particular, she doesn't seem like the type who would leave a grieving man alone in his hour of need. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to console you in any way she could."

Grace stifled a laugh.

"Lovely as green looks on you, Lisbon, this petty jealousy is beneath you," Jane said with a smirk.

Lisbon rolled her eyes and turned to Grace. "I want my gun," she pleaded. "Just for a minute."

"Not in here, boss," she said, shaking her head. "Anyway you don't want to shoot him in a hospital. Where would the fun be in that, when there are so many other cool things you could do?"

"I could get him put in a medically-induced coma," Lisbon suggested with a grin. "Stash him away in a hospital room for a few years, give us all a break."

"And I might actually get some sleep for once," he put in, good-naturedly. "But you'd miss me."

"Don't bet on it." But Grace couldn't help but notice her boss's eyes softening as she said that. She wondered if Jane had noticed it too, but he kept a straight face.

"Here, boss," she said, passing her the bag. "I hope I got everything you need."

"Even if you didn't, it's only for one night," said Lisbon, soothingly. "So long as you remembered all the essentials, toothbrush, hairbrush, deodorant. Oh great-" she said, drawing out the book, "-finally something to do other than watch the nurses fawn over Jane."

Something fell from the cover and onto the bed. Grace retrieved it, revealing it to be the little frog she'd found earlier.

"Sorry boss," she said. "I must have caught it with my sleeve when I was grabbing the book from your bedside table-"

She stopped talking after that, because neither Jane nor Lisbon was listening. Both were gazing, transfixed at the little creature, Jane in wonderment, and Lisbon in horror.

The silence that followed was so absolute, Grace swore she could have heard a pin drop in the next room. Clearly, she'd misread the significance of this little frog, apparently not from her niece, but a gift from Jane. She frowned a little in puzzlement. Trinkets like this weren't really Jane's style; when it came to gift giving he tended to go big (and even more so when Lisbon was the recipient.)

Jane was the first to break the silence.

"You kept it."

Lisbon swallowed. "Yes."

"In your bedroom?"

"Not the whole time," she said, quietly. "That was a recent move."

"How recent, exactly?"

Lisbon determinedly lifted her head and met Jane's probing gaze. "What do you think?"

All of a sudden, Grace felt as though she were intruding on something intensely private. The way they looked at each other, saying so much without even speaking, she didn't think she'd ever witnessed anything so intimate in her life. She took it as her cue to leave the room. Neither Jane nor Lisbon seemed to notice, trapped in their own world.

She took a seat in the corridor just outside the room, but their voices still reached her, through the door left slightly ajar.

This time, Lisbon was the first to speak.

"I found it in my desk a week after you left. I thought you were never coming back."

Something in Jane's eyes changed, as though a shadow from his memory was passing over them.

"And?"

"I already had enough reminders of you at the office," she said. "I didn't need another."

Lisbon had been a mess in those first few weeks. Grace remembered them well. She'd become withdrawn, keeping to her office all day and never going out into the field. She worked long into the night and only spoke when spoken to. People in the office talked, too. Not a single day went by where Jane's name wasn't mentioned. But when Bertram began to question her suitability to continue leading the team, Lisbon managed to pull herself out of her misery. It had taken strength of character Grace had never known her to possess, but she'd done it, and she had never admired her boss more.

Jane would never truly understand the damage he'd done over that time, because he hadn't been there to see it.

"Why didn't you just throw it out?" he asked now, gently.

"I tried." Lisbon's voice shook slightly, with the effort, Grace suspected, of not succumbing to rare tears.

A pause.

"I'm glad you didn't."

"Believe me, I wanted to," Lisbon said, with feeling. "But I just couldn't let it go."

"It was all she had left of him," Grace thought silently to herself. She'd always known that Lisbon and Jane had some kind of special understanding, but she'd had no idea it ran this deep.

The words of the couple inside the room turned to meaningless noise, as she thought about that.

And the reason for her awakening: a little paper frog.

Not my usual style I know. I've never written a Van Pelt POV before, as I usually stick to Jane and Lisbon POVs. Anyway, I hope you liked it.