A/N: Tag for "Red Herring", set in the last minutes of the episode.
"Oh and Abigail said to say you're a mean irresponsible sadist."
He looked away for a moment, and Lisbon, face set in an unhappy scowl, searched for something else to say, something that would somehow take the edge of what she had just said. She hadn't meant to say it, or she had, but not in the uncaring, accusing way that she had. Like she agreed with it. And she didn't. Right?
"Oh, that's pretty accurate," he said.
She looked away and shook her head. No, no, not good. He was supposed to smile and protest in his charming way and say the woman was in shock... No, he would never say that. He knew himself pretty well, she knew he always took full responsibility for his actions, however insane and irresponsible.... there was that word again. Irresponsible.
How irresponsible was he really?
"You OK?" he asked. He looked up at her, raising his eyebrows. "No point denying it," he added.
There it was again. The infuriating superiority, the carefully constructed blank expression on his face, the tilting of his head as if what he was doing, what he was saying was perfectly normal. But if there was anybody in the department who was not normal, it was Jane. In fact, it was unnatural. How had he managed to convince the people at the mental hospital he was sane?
"I'm fine," she said, sounding a bit strangled.
She had often wondered what would happen if they ever did manage to catch Red John. Somehow, she had never believed his threat... no, his promise... to carefully slice the guy up and do to him exactly the same thing as he did to his wife. It had seemed inconceivable at the time, an empty threat, a way to express his feelings more than an actual plan.
"OK," he said. He got up and walked to the door. Placing his hand on the door frame, he half turned around. "Goodnight," he said.
And just like that he walked away. She did not watch him leave, but instead sat down behind her desk, opened the drawer and reached down at the familiar bottle with the dark liquid. Force of habit made her take it and the small glass out.
Jane did have a plan. He had told her his plan, and he fully intended to carry it out. Up until then, he kept himself busy with other cases, but ultimately, he didn't care in the slightest. He helped them solve the cases so he could remain close to the source, close to anything that might find him Red John. The minute they'd found him, they'd lose Jane.
She looked at the bottle in disgust. How easy that was. Just have a few, and everything didn't seem so bad. Had Jane ever considered... no. He'd never. And she knew why, too. Alcohol took the edge of things, made everything seem just a little bit bearable. And he didn't want life to be bearable. He was here on borrowed time, he was here with one purpose and one purpose only, and once that purpose was fulfilled... Images flashed before her, images of the mental hospital, images of a white padded room... She frowned. Somehow, she didn't think he'd take his own life. That'd be too easy. He was punishing himself. Ending it all would mean the end of his punishment, and Patrick Jane wasn't ready for that.
Carefully, she placed the bottle and the glass back into the drawer and closed it.
Irresponsible wasn't quite the word to describe Jane. Uncaring... no, he did care. Just not enough to back down, to give people some leeway. Focused. Single minded.
And quite insane.
How irresponsible was she for having him on her team?