Focusing his attention on details was the only way he had to keep his mind from drifting away. So he stood still on his couch, watching the ceiling as if he should find the whole meaning of life among its cracks and stains.
After careful consideration he decided – quite unwillingly – that the ceiling had not changed since yesterday, or the day before; and probably it wouldn't change even in the days to come.
Red John had been arrested, and yet the ceiling was still the same. What a strange thing. Or maybe it was perfectly natural. He couldn't make out whether he found this thought somewhat reassuring, or slightly disturbing instead.
He resolved to take his eyes off the ceiling in order to reassure his colleagues. He was fully aware of the anxious glances they threw at him from time to time, thinking they passed unnoticed.
It was probably the same thing that happens when you come back home from hospital after a long illness. Relatives and friends keep scanning you face in order to find the slightest signs of recovery – or relapse.
They went as far as taking turns to invite him to stay with them, in order not to leave him alone. Lisbon's idea, of course.
It was mostly for Lisbon's sake that he had resigned himself to accept the whole thing. Besides, he didn't feel strong enough to raise objections.
Since the day of Red John's arrest he felt just empty. Without the purpose which had sustained him till that moment, he simply couldn't find a reason to care about what was going on around him.
So he found himself spending his evenings in front of the TV, wondering if it wouldn't have been better if he did remain in the office, looking at the ceiling. His only distraction – however small – was studying his host's tastes and reactions.
Cho liked thrillers, and he watched them without showing any signs of emotion.
Rigsby always felt obliged to justify his choice – no matter if it was a western, a boxing match or a cartoon – and to comment on it from time to time, just as if he wanted to show that he didn't really care.
Van Pelt usually chose romance films – quite obvious, now that at long last she had started a relationship with Rigsby – and every time she needed a whole box of tissues.
Well, at least she was wise enough to keep them near at hand… Lisbon – who persisted in watching dramas – always ended up wiping her tears with her fingers. Eventually he got used to lending her his handkerchief just before a touching scene was coming.
He sighed, then moved his eyes slowly around the room.
"Let me guess… who's gonna be my babysitter tonight?"