A/N: Hello, guys, this is my first story so I hope you will like it. English is not my native language so I hope you can understant that I made some mistakes, but I hope there's not too much mistakes ! Let me know if I really did some huge mistakes. The beggining is a bit slow, but hopefully, it will get better !

It was late, and she was glad to finally come home after a day spent catching a killer while trying to hold back Jane. Home. It was a word she'd never thought she could use to define this new house in Texas. But yet, now she thought of it as a home, a place where she shared countless laughs with her friends, on those many evenings she had invited them. It wasn't a house full of children's joys of cries, nor of stolen kisses in front of the fireplace, but it was her home, the place where she could receive her friends for dinner without feeling ashamed of the emptiness of its soul.

Thinking about it, there weren't a lot of people that she could count as her friends: Jane, of course, who was her best friend. The only one who would help her and support her no matter what happened. Even if he ran away, he came back. He came back, and asked for her. And she was too glad to come back too. Grace, Rigsby and Cho were really goods friends too. The ones who stick together, no matter what happened. And then were Kim and Wiley. Not really friends, though. They were mates, pals, buddies. Not friends. Not yet. A friend was somebody she could trust without even asking questions. And it was notorious that she had trust issues. So, even if they worked together for several months, she couldn't trust them entirely.

She sighed, feeling a headache coming. It had really been a long day. While she approached her house, all she could think about was a nice bath with maybe a glass of wine. But, when she arrived to the front door, she froze as something else caught her attention. An envelope, a heavy one judging by the size. She picked it up, and looked at it curiously. Her exhaustion was totally forgotten as she unlocked her door, entered her house and sat on her couch, opening the envelope. She was left to stare at a heavy book, old and very damaged. The cover was blank, exception made for the word "Diary" written in the front.

Now she was really fascinated with the mystery around this book. She picked up the envelope, hoping to find out about the sender, but she was disappointed: her name was written with handwriting that she didn't recognize. She knew it was wrong to read someone's else most intimate thoughts ( whose diary was it, anyway ?)but she was really curious, so she opened the book and started reading.

Day 1

What does that mean anyway? Day One ? The first day of the rest of my life? Bullshit. That's what Angela would say. You can't start an entire life again and just forget about the previous life. You only have one life and when you screw up, it's over. There's no backing down, no escape. You burned your life, and all you have left is ashes and dust.

Sophie told me to write down my thoughts, so here I am. What did she thought anyway? That I would magically cure just by writing down how angry and heartbroken I am? That I could build an whole new life, just by snapping my fingers? Well, I could, actually. It's not like I'm ugly. I know a dozen of girls who would be ready to marry me, right here and right now. I could have a bunch of children and pretend to be happy. That would be a new life. A sad, heartbreaking life, but a life anyway.

But what if I don't want a new life ? What if I want those memories to stick around in my memory palace forever? That's what Sophie doesn't understand. I don't want to move on with my life. And yet I ought to.

But first of all, I'm going to find him, and I'm going to kill him slowly and painfully, and I'm going to watch the angst and the pain in his eyes, and I'm going to hurt him like he hurted my family. Like he hurted me. He's mine. Red John is mine.

She stopped reading, astonished. It was Jane's diary, for God's sake! What she read was heartbreaking, really, and she wiped off some tears as she contemplated the words written in an erratic handwriting, so different from his current handwriting. She skimmed the page, and she could feel the paper was humpy as if somebody had wept countless hours, not caring if it destroyed the diary. She felt her heart breaking in millions of pieces.

Now, what should she do? The diary was obviously intended for her: her name was written on the envelope, and she was really dying to read more about Jane. He was always so mysterious and secretive, she deserved to know more about him, right? But on the other hand, it felt wrong to sneak around his most private thoughts without his knowledge.

Maybe she should wait until the next day, and talk to him about it?

No, she decided after thinking about it. Either he would yell at her, saying she had no right to read it (because it would be obvious she had read it, given that his name wasn't mentioned anywhere) or he would took it back and pretend nothing happened. And whoever had sent her the book wanted her to read it, right?

To heck with common sense, she decided, and she focused on the words again.

No. No focusing on Red John. My golden rule from now. That's what Sophie told me. He killed my wife and daughter, but I can't let that stop me.

" Well, that was a success" she thought ironically as she turned the page, before regretting it. He had lived hell, for God's sake! She should show a little more compassion.

Anyway, what's the point in lying to myself? I can't just forget about this bastard. To hell with sensible behavior. He's going to get what he deserve. I'm doing it for you, Angela and Charlotte. My sweet angels. Taken too soon. If you're somewhere, high in the sky, then I hope you can read what I'm writing write now. I loved you so much. And I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you, Angela, when you begged me to stop. I'm sorry I always came home late at night, and I practically never saw you awake, my little and dearest Charlotte. I'm sorry I forgot to buy a new doll for Charlotte, and you had to reprimand me on the phone, Angela. I'm sorry I didn't brought your nice dress to the dry cleaner's and you didn't know what to wear to visit your parents even if you never got the chance to visit them. And I'm sorry for a lot of other things.

I love you. Both. And I'm never giving up on you.

Anyway, you would have been happy, Angela. I quit a year ago, before going in a hospital. I'm fine, now. Well, I'm fine enough to get out of this hospital and start a new career. In law enforcement, can you believe it ?

I confess, I messed up a little with cops to get my new job. It worth it, though. I get to work on the Red John case, and my coworkers aren't that bad. Well, my "boss" (she's not technically my boss, I'm a consultant) is really sweet. It's actually refreshing to meet people who still have a life. She helped me, and I think her name is Lisbon. Her first name is a Saint's name, something like Mary… No, it's Theresa. Definitely Theresa (or maybe Teresa ? I should ask her.)

She smiled. She remembered the day he messed up with everyone in order to access the Red John's files, and she remembered that she felt overwhelmed by his skills. The fact that he blackmailed Minelli into hiring him had really annoyed her, but she had remained professional.

Those were old days. Old time sake. She felt a bit nostalgic and she sighed. She would have never thought her world would be so overwhelmed just by one single man. And yet, here she was, old enough to have plenty of kids, and still waiting for him to notice her.

To stop herself from crying, she read the following paragraphs.

I know I shouldn't have blackmailed those cops. They are good people, really. As long as they don't get in my way, we should be able to have a nice working relationship. They give information about Red John, I solve their stupid cases. That's the deal, and I hope they are fine with it, because that's how I'm going to work. Anyway, I found myself a couch. My desk is small and dusty, and really, what is a point in a desk? When I work, I don't need a table or anything. Just my memory palace, my brain. And maybe a cup of tea.

She was a little disappointed. She knew at the beginning, the team was just a tool to Jane, but his cold-hearted words were really hurting her. Then she began to feel a bit scared : what if he had never cared about any of them ? What if he was just playing an act for ten years, manipulating them in order to fulfill his purpose?

Suddenly, she didn't want to read it anymore. And anyway, it was getting really late. She put the diary in her purse, and she went to bed. She will certainly have shadows under her eyes the next day.

Another sleepless night was coming.

A/N: Well, that's it guys, I hope you liked. Please, let me know what you thought of it, if this story is well received, maybe I'll translate it into French. Also, I'd like to know your opinion: do you think I should let Lisbon read Jane's diary in chronological order or randomly ? Please, let me know, I'm not sure what I should do. And let me reassure you: this story will not be all about Jane's diary. I'm also apologizing if somebody already used this idea before, that would be completly fortuitous.

Until next time guys!