I sit alone in my office, pen tapping against the desk to the rhythm of my beating heart, waiting for Patrick Jane to enter.
In the bullpen, I hear laughter (not from Jane because I don't think he's ever laughed since he lost his family), though I can imagine his winning smirk as the team sits around talking, having fun. Without me. He's spending a lot more time with the team lately, bringing out high spirits and more jokes, of shared evenings of different activities. He's also talking much more to Grace, and she seems to enjoy it. I'm not going to think too hard about why it bothers me.
I release a sigh I hadn't realized I had been holding, and at that moment Jane ambles in.
"Sit down," I attempt to order, but his gaze is outside of this room as he looks through the glass at Grace Van Pelt. He gives her a wink, and then proceeds to flop onto my couch.
Anger simmers in the pit of my stomach, and if he continues like this it'll very likely come to a boil all over him and his damn casual attitude.
"So," he gestures to me with his hands, even though his head faces the other wall, "What did you want to see me about?"
Oh yes. My patience is evaporating quickly, even more than usual.
"You insulted the mayor of a town, called him a liar, disobeyed the town's police chief, put an officer in handcuffs, and almost got your head shot off because you tried to play hero and talk down a criminal!" My hands clench, and my jaw with it. I'll be grinding my teeth in my sleep tonight; that is, if I don't have to stay up all night working on the paperwork regarding the complaints.
"Meh. I caught the criminal, the mayor was lying and he just needed a wake-up call, and the police were bumbling and would have completely bungled the plan if we had involved them."
"Have you forgotten that you're supposed to be smarter than most people, because only an idiot would go out into the woods alone with a dangerous, armed suspect?" The words lash out and finally wound him.
He sits up with a jolt, fluidly pivoting towards me. In the back of my mind, I think this won't turn out well.
"I know you're angry with me, but please don't take it out on me this way."
He's up from the sofa now, moving to my desk, a strain in his tone.
"I'm not some annoying fly you can swat away. I'm sick and tired of you and your attitude that you don't need to follow any goddamned rules. If you take someone down in the process, you simply say, who cares?" I'm standing across from him, palms heavy and wide on the desk, ready for anything he chooses to throw at me next.
His head bows down, his palms placed on the desk like mine, leaning in. I would think he's praying, but praying and Jane do not go together. All I can see is his shining hair, his face completely encased in a curtain of shadows. My anger bubbles and lies in wait.
"I wish I didn't have to be here. I wish we weren't having this discussion. I wish I was far away."
The words flow through me, encasing me. My anger is fading away as his voice soaks in.
"I wish we could forget this twisted tale we weave day after day, year after year. To erase the mind of the unneeded, unwanted. Hmm." The veins in his hands stand out more prominently, the tendons tensed. I squeeze my eyes shut, like a child afraid to listen to the truth.
"If I could, I suppose it would be sensible to erase them from your mind as well. Things would be much simpler."
This is dead, emotionless and drained.
No, no, I pray into the blackness of my closed lids. Don't do this to me.
By the time I open my eyes, he's left. I crumple into my chair.
The anger's gone. But the words churn instead deep in my heart. The pen rolls into my hand, tapping out my racing heartbeat, as the words mix and tumble and scream to escape, to be understood.
The pen drops to the floor. Painfully, I shut down the words beating inside, push it away. I cannot, in any way, allow it to escape now.
Howlongcanthatlast? mocks the voice inside my head.
I grab a new pen and start on the large pile of paperwork sitting at my desk.