It had been a long day, a tough week, and a welcome break to the case. With his usual unusual theatrics and uncanny ability to read people, Patrick Jane had helped the California Bureau of Investigations (it certainly was a mouthful – CBI rolled off the tongue so much more smoothly) close another case. He wasn't any closer to Red John which was . . . irksome. But with a clarity which often settled him, Jane knew the time would come when he would have his revenge. One day.
The sound of his footfalls on the hardwood floor and then the stairs echoed off the bare walls and windows of his house. (He could never really call it a home since . . . well, since.) It was a cool night, but he didn't mind. He had been feeling rather warm all day, hadn't eaten much. Opening the door at the end of the upstairs hallway he made his way over to the mattress in the corner and sunk down onto it with a small sigh. Making sure his cell phone was on and within easy reaching distance should his boss feel the need to remind of what time most people started work in the morning, he stretched out and after a cursory glance at the symbol of his sins and failures on the wall above him, fell into a dreamless sleep.
*
"What do you mean he's not here yet?" Agent Teresa Lisbon of the Serious Crimes Unit of the CBI looked at the unit's other two agents seated in the unit's main office. Kimball Cho was slouched over in front of his computer and only shrugged his shoulders. Wayne Rigsby straightened up his chair, opened his mouth, saw the higher-than-normal level of annoyance Lisbon knew was on her face, and quickly closed it again. Lisbon bit back a frustrated sigh as she pulled out her cell phone and punched in Jane's phone number.
Jane picked up on the fourth ring. "I'm on my way, Lisbon," he said before Lisbon could even open her mouth to start reaming him out. And then he hung up the phone.
"What the --?" Lisbon pulled her phone away from her ear, staring at it briefly before snapping it closed. "He is so going to --"
"Pay?" Everyone's attention snapped to the doorway at the sound of Jane's voice.
"Jane, where have you been?" Lisbon made no move toward him, only crossing her arms over her chest. "Everyone was here all night finishing up paperwork – which you have yet to do – and managed to be here on time." She glanced over at the clock. "You're late, even for you."
"It won't happen again . . . but it might. One just never knows," Jane said with a small grin and a bow of his head as he made his way to his desk. He shrugged off his suit jacket, pulled out his chair and then promptly crumpled to the ground in a soundless heap.
"Jane?" Rigsby was the first to speak and the first out of his chair, crouching down by his prone co-worker.
Lisbon looked over at Cho, who only shrugged his shoulders at her as he made his way over to stand beside her.
"Could he be faking?" Cho gave voice to Lisbon's own thoughts. Both looked over at Rigsby who was shaking his head.
"No," the other agent said, "unless he stood under a heat lamp or something. He's burning up, skin's clammy." He motioned to Cho to grab Jane's feet and they lifted the consultant onto the leather sofa.
"You never know with Jane," Libson said with a quiet sigh. She noted the beads of sweat dotting his forehead and upper lip. He does look awful, but I've been fooled before. She sat down on the edge of the sofa, facing Jane, and put the back of her hand on his forehead. She muttered an expletive before telling Rigsby to get a cool damp cloth.
"It's that bad, is it?" Jane's eyelids fluttered open as Lisbon hoped she wasn't blushing. "If you were Catholic," he continued with a half-smile, "I'd tell you it's time for confession for you. What do Protestants do again?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Lisbon said, folding her hands in her lap.
Jane seemed to ponder this for a moment. All three agents were waiting for his grand reveal, but all Jane did was lean over the side of sofa and futilely retch on the floor.
"Why didn't you call in sick?" Lisbon asked as she motioned for Rigsby to give her the damp cloth.
"And miss the fun of working on my report?" Jane let out a small laugh. "No, figured I felt like crap already so what's one more crappy thing to do? Misery and company and all that." He flopped his right arm over his eyes. "Besides which," Jane continued, "you wouldn't have believed me until you saw it yourself."
Lisbon knew by now there was no point in arguing. Jane was right, for one, but she also suspected he didn't want to spend the day at home anyway, He simply loved being around people too much. Plus playing a bit of the hero –
"Lisbon," Jane interrupted, "I puked on a nice young woman's new shoes, which she couldn't afford in the first place, when I got out of the taxi. I'm not a hero. Would Superman puke on someone's shoes?" He let out a little huff of air. "I think not."
Rigsby's and Cho's shared smirk did not go unnoticed by Lisbon. She gave them the obligatory glare before addressing Jane. "You're going home."
"No, I'm not. I'll sleep here for a bit, then I'll be as good as new."
"Jane." Her tone brooked no argument. "We're taking you home."
"It's a house," came Jane's voice, softer than usual. "Hasn't been home in a long – time." The last part was said so quietly, sadly, the rest of the team tried to avoid looking at each other until Cho cleared his throat.
"We'll make sure he gets home, boss," Cho said, looking over at Rigsby who quickly nodded his agreement.
Lisbon looked over at Jane's still form, softly giving her assent before heading to her own office.
*
"So it's true he still lives in the same house?" Rigsby cast a glance in the back seat, hoping Jane really was asleep.
"Yup." Cho signalled for a left turn, doing a quick shoulder check before turning the final corner.
"Spooky." Rigsby remained silent until they pulled up in front of the well-appointed home. "Hey, how did you know where he lived?"
"Mapquest." Cho walked around the front of the vehicle and stopped by Rigsby as he opened the rear passenger door. "We'd best get him inside, make sure he was what he needs and get back." Rigsby nodded in agreement, and the duo made quick work of waking Jane up enough so he could give them his key and make his way to the front step as they followed closely behind him.
"I can make it from here," Jane said as he wobbled on the threshold.
"Uh-huh," Rigsby said without any conviction to such a feat being remotely possible.
"Uh-huh," Jane replied with a half grin. And to the lack of Cho's amazement (Rigsby's mouth was hanging open), he pushed the door open and began stumbling up the stairway ten feet into the house, leaving the door open behind him.
"We'd better make sure he really makes it in okay or Libson will have our heads." Cho didn't wait for Rigsby to reply and followed Jane inside.
"Cho, I don't think --"
"Balls, she'll have our balls – how about that? Does that scare you into action? Plus Jane will figure it all out somehow and hold it over us if we don't do something."
"Good point."
As Rigsby closed the door softly behind him, Cho let out a quiet 'wow' at the sight before them.
"There's nothing here." Rigsby said as Cho eyed the closed door at the top of the stairwell in front of them.
"Nope." Cho took note of the small table by the door littered with bills and a bowl containing a few key rings. There was no other pieces of furniture or decorations to be found in the living room to their left or the entryway. A quick walk through the kitchen revealed the same extreme minimalist décor. Jane ate and slept here, but that was about it.
"Spooky." Rigsby ducked his head down as he stepped into the kitchen, his hands on his hips. "Lets get him some soup 'n' stuff I guess."
Cho didn't disagree with him or offer any other suggestions. It was a little spooky here and no offense to Jane, but he did not want to stick around. A thump and a groan from upstairs drew his attention away from his search for some saltines. "I'll go check on him," he said to Rigsby, who was rifling through an assortment of what looked to be vitamin bottles he had pulled out of the cupboard to the right of the sink.
"Holler if you need help," Rigsby said.
Cho quickly ascended the stairs, taking in the evidence of the pictures that once hung on the walls. He tried the door at the end of the landing. It opened easily. Indentations in the carpet noted where a bed had once been, but now all there was in the room was a mattress in the corner and a blood red smiley face on the wall above it.
Cho swore, realizing where he was.
"Of all the rooms, in all the house, I had to pick the one where Red John killed my family." Cho couldn't help but jump at the sound of Jane's voice from behind him. He would have made some retort to show he wasn't really spooked, but Jane looked like hell and Cho was pretty sure he couldn't stay vertical for too much longer. Wordlessly he watched Jane make his way over to the mattress on the floor, pull the lone sheet up over himself and close his eyes. "Yeah," Jane said when Cho thought he would be asleep. "Yeah . . ." Soon his chest was going up and down at a steady, slow rhythm. Cho wondered how long it had been since the man had really slept.
After retrieving a glass of water from the ensuite, Cho made sure Jane's cell phone was in easy reaching distance. The agent took one last look around the room before making his way back downstairs.
The ride back to CBI was a silent one.
*
The next day when Cho and Rigsby arrived at work, each found a small padlock, still in its packaging but somehow minus the key, on their desk with "Thanks" written on it in black felt. Neither said anything as they each tucked it away.
Nothing was said when Jane returned to work the day after that, but Cho did see Jane drop two small keys into the pen holder on his desk before he took off his coat. Cho said nothing, only giving a small two-finger wave in return to Jane before returning to his work, catching sight of Rigsby doing the same out of the corner of his eye.
A month later when Cho heard they were investigating what looked to be a Red John case, he said nothing when Lisbon instructed them not to call Jane because of his suspension and as she added something about Jane maybe learning a lesson before leaving the room. He waited until he was by himself before calling Jane to give him a heads up. Suspended or not, he needed to be there.
Some things just went without saying.