A/N: I...am not really sure what this is. But it's only a very short one, and I had an absolute dreadful day so this may just be the result of that. Written for the Jello Forever November challenge; prompt was 'Truth and Lies'.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything even remotely related to The Mentalist. Or the lyrics. Those belong to Kings of Leon.
-xxx-
Beyond redemption
.
Just know it was you all along
who had a hold of my heart
But the demon and me
was the best of friends from the start
.
There's no spotlight trained on him, but there might as well be. All eyes are on him now, something he usually quite enjoys, even thrives on.
Not this time.
There's an eerie calm that descends upon him as the sun slowly disappears behind the horizon, casting a golden glow across the room. Even though it's filled with people, he knows he's completely alone. As he unsuccessfully tries to shut out the thoughts seeking a way through his defences, an unpleasant sensation, like the soft brush of cold fingers, creeps up his spine. But his carefully constructed mask stays intact. He knew this was coming, has been expecting it all along.
Yet, as he stands up, the cold, hard metal around his wrists is enough to distract him, and his gaze involuntarily sweeps the crowd, looking for the one person he knows he won't find. He sees Cho and Rigsby, side by side as always. Both of them are offering up a sympathetic look, because they have no idea how else to express their feelings. He notices Van Pelt, who's trying hard to keep her emotions hidden, but the unshed tears in her eyes tell another story entirely.
He sends a small smile in their direction – always putting on a show, performing until the very end – but his smile is strained, as if he can't support its weight any longer.
The seat next to them is empty, as expected.
Lisbon slipped out long before.
He tries to pretend it makes no difference whatsoever. Even though he knows that his Red John nightmares have taken on a new meaning. It's no longer his wife and daughter's faces he sees. Instead, they have been replaced by a certain feisty brunette, green eyes pleading with him to listen to reason. To listen to her. Jane knows those images of her standing right beside him will probably haunt him forever.
The most powerful lies are those we tell ourselves. Saying them over and over, hoping that eventually the mind will accept it as truth and we'll start to believe it in the end. He is no exception to that rule.
Because as he's being led out of the courtroom, he mentally repeats that he took the right decision. That he has absolutely no regrets.
He almost convinces himself.
Almost, but not quite.
He's always been able to read between the lies.
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