Mentalist Birthdays

**A/N: **I am working on a post 6x22 Blue Bird story, but I haven't quite gotten the finishing touches on it. I think it is different than the other stuff out there. That could just be me, though. This one is an AU after they have been together long enough for him to at least start staying over at her place. Kindly leave a review at the end. I want to thank all of you for reading. It really makes my day when I see people have read or favorite my stories. Happy reading!

**Disclaimer**: My salary is not high enough for me to afford The Mentalist. So no, I own absolutely nothing except the DVDs.

**Birthdays **

She awoke with a start in a bed colder than it should have been. There were times when he stayed over that he got up during night to take a walk or use the bathroom, but rarely was the other side of the bed actually cool. The covers were thrown over the bed; therefore, the air conditioner had to work to cool the bed down. Especially since the Texas heat was just as bad as the California heat.

For a moment she panicked, afraid that he might have left her again. There were so many times that he had left without saying a word to her for months or even years a time. She still had the letters he sent while he had been out of the country. Those letters were what had cemented her feelings for him. Missing him so completely had done the rest. It had never occurred to her that she loved him until he left for such a long time. After that she had tried to ignore it, assuming he didn't care about her anyway. His last minute confession a few months ago had changed all of that.

It had taken him much longer to begin spending the night at her place, than any of her other recent boyfriends. His reasons were many, and her patience vast. He had many demons he had to face. She couldn't begin to understand his demons on an emotional level. It was a wonder he had even tried to make himself available for her. All the years they worked together she assumed that Angela had been his one and only love. She never thought he would be willing to be with someone else emotionally, even after he had caught and killed Red John.

She sat up in bed and looked at her clock. The green letters showed her it was a little after midnight. They had been in bed for about 2 hours knowing that tomorrow would be an early start to prep for a trial. Jane was going to testify, and she had been given permission to 'keep him in line in the courtroom'. It was a bit of a stretch, but Abbott had allowed it anyway. Trying to keep Jane away from her at work was a full time job for the entire FBI team. Jane just didn't like being separated, even if it was better for the case; which was why the empty side of the bed worried her so much.

She stood up and yawned, determined to find him and bring him back to bed as soon as humanly possible. Sleep was a precious commodity in their line of work. She wanted as much of it as she could possibly get. She knew that he still didn't always sleep. Thus far, those nights were the ones he spent in his trailer. He usually at least stayed in bed while she slept when he was over at her place.

She made her way down the stairs as quietly as possible after thoroughly searching the rooms upstairs. He wasn't in the bathroom, or guest bedroom, so he had to be downstairs. It wasn't hard to spot him lying on her couch. The streetlights from outside shined through the window basking his head in an eerie yellow glow. It made him look sick.

"Patrick," she whispered. He moved his head slightly to look at her upside-down. He didn't say anything. Instead, he acknowledged her presence and went back to the same position she had found him in. That in itself told her something was wrong. He _always_ had something to say to her. She admitted defeat at the prospect of getting back to bed in a short amount of time and settled into the recliner by the couch. She was unwavering in her insistence to stay with him until her told her to leave, or the morning came. Whichever was first.

"Go back to bed, Teresa," he finally said after a few silent minutes. He still hadn't turned to look at her. That was not a good sign. If they were fighting he would face her. If he didn't want to trouble her because he was miserable or depressed about something he never made eye contact. This time, she was certain if she waited long enough he would tell her what was on his mind. It was getting easier for him to talk to her about the things on his mind.

"Teresa, you need your sleep," he whispered softly to her. In response she put the footrest up on the recliner to make herself more comfortable. She would sleep here if she had to. Something told her that tonight he needed the company more than she needed the sleep. Figuring him out had taken less time than she expected. He really was an open book when he wanted to be. "Teresa…"

"I'm fine here, Patrick," she insisted. His body movement showed her that he wasn't happy with her response. She didn't care what he thought. She knew that there was something on his mind, and she wanted to know what it was. If she had to stay here all night to find out, she would.

"She would have been 18 today," he said to no one in particular. She knew exactly who the 'she' was. His daughter, Charlotte. Her heart hurt for him. There was nothing she could do to alleviate his pain tonight. There were a few days during the year he was unreachable, she had discovered. His first wedding anniversary, the day he had found them, and now Charlotte's birthday. 3 days that he became a different person and she couldn't reach him. It hurt. It physically hurt to see him in this much emotional pain.

Instinctively, she curled up on the chair. Even though it appeared to her that he couldn't see what she was doing, he still knew that she had moved, and that she wasn't relaxed. Unfortunately, it gave him an excuse to stop his train of thought and focus on her momentarily. His concern was sweet, but unwarranted. He was only putting off the inevitable. He needed this. She knew he needed this. Two months ago she spent the night listening to him describe his first wedding day. Most would see this as inappropriate. She saw it for what it really was. He trusted her enough to give her information he had told no one else.

"Tell me about her, Patrick," she requested. A ghost of a smile crossed his face. She could see the look of pride he wore as he talked about all of the things Charlotte had done during her short life. She laughed with him, and cried with him. Neither moved. She was unsure of what to do to comfort him. He was just glad to have her there, listening, like always. He talked until well after 2 in the morning.

"She was a great kid, Teresa," he finished. She didn't have a response. She had never had the opportunity to meet the girl. Although she was sure the child had been a beautiful blessing stolen in the heart of her childhood. The injustice of it hit her every time she thought about it. Patrick Jane's daughter had made him a better person.

"I'm sure she was, Patrick," she agreed. They sat in silence for a few more minutes. He needed it to gather her thoughts. She needed it to regain her composure. He would never see another birthday for his daughter. He would never celebrate all of the milestones of growing up. It was hard to imagine.

"Teresa?"

"hmmm?" she responded. It was getting harder to keep her eyes open now that he had finished his stories. She was able to run off of little sleep, but when she was at home in her pajamas at 2 a.m. it was very likely that she would be sleeping. Right now forming coherent sentences was not in the fore front of her mind.

"Would you like to join me?" he asked her. She opened one eye to look at him and the couch. She didn't have a big couch, but they squeezed, they both might be able to fit. It was better than sleeping in the chair away from him. She would never tell him, but she much preferred sleeping near him, than by herself. The nights he spent in his trailer felt like the longer nights. It was hard to fall asleep on her own anymore. She simply wanted him near.

"Bed. Upstairs," she managed. He chuckled and put his back against the back of the couch making room for her. Against her better judgment she moved toward the couch. It was much easier to sleep when she was horizontal, anyway. Plus, she had the added bonus of his arms wrapped around her to keep her from rolling off of the couch.

"Thank you for listening, Teresa," he said as he kissed the top of her head good night. She couldn't remember if she said anything in return the next morning. Somehow the two of them had managed to spend the night on the couch. His smile told her that he had slept more than usual; which meant he was at the top of his game. Being assigned to 'keep him in line' looked like it had just gotten harder.

**A/N**: Review please!


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Mentalist, Hurt-Comfort