It was a rainy night when a quiet knock came at the door of his motel room. Jane thought he was dreaming as he rested his eyes over the forlorn figure that was standing on the threshold, soaked to the skin with her hair plastered to her head.
Lorelei didn't say a word, just brushed past him and walked to the corner of the room that was farthest to the entrance. He checked she hadn't been followed before he locked and bolted the door.
"There's something I need to ask you," she announced at length.
He could see that she was shivering with cold, so he took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Go ahead."
"Are you positive that Red John is actually responsible for the death of my sister?"
A soft sigh escaped his lips. "I am."
"Could you swear it on your daughter's grave?"
An uncomfortable silence fell as he struggled to decide whether he had the guts to do such a thing; the memory of Charlotte was somewhat sacred to him.
In the end he simply bowed his head and murmured under his breath. "I swear."
Her lips trembled ever so slightly. "Then I'm going to tell you his name. On one condition."
Jane swallowed in a vain attempt to keep his voice steady. "Whatever you want."
"Take me far away from here."
"Sure. Where do you want to go?"
He grabbed his car keys and waited for her to make the next move.
xxx
They were already past the border with Mexico when the police started looking for them. Bret Stiles had been found dead in his own room at the Visualize headquarters, and the stab wounds all over his body could be put down to two entirely different hands.
That night they shared a bottle of tequila in a shabby motel room in Tijuana, and it was only when she curled up against his body that the thought hit him.
He and Lorelei were kindred spirits in their own twisted way. Red John had taken away the people they loved most, had damaged them both beyond any hope of redemption.
As much as he'd been secretly dreaming of a future with the woman he loved, he knew that this dream was never going to come true – not after he'd killed yet another man. Lisbon would never understand his motives, and he didn't know whether he should regret it or simply be relieved at the notion.
Instead he chose to seek comfort in his current companion; Lorelei was more than happy to welcome his attentions, she could use some sort of affection after all she'd been through.
Later on, as sweat was cooling on their skin, she propped up on her elbow and looked him straight in the eyes. "Will we ever find our own place in this world, Patrick?"
"No," he said with conviction, his fingers tracing invisible patterns along her collarbone.
She leaned forward and captured his lips for a desperate kiss.