Disclaimer: I do not happen to own the Mentalist. Minor season 3 spoilers. Well, nothing has really happened in the season, seeing as it only has one episode currently.
But just incase.
It's raining today.
The sky is gray and the rain lightly taps at the window, like a sort of beckoning. The light blew out yesterday, but he doesn't have a ladder, and he wonders if it's hardly worth the trouble. It's darker outside today, and the reflected light from the clouds basks the room in a monotone effect.
His eyes are vacant. He sits on the upturned box in the middle of the small space, just gazing out the window. The journal falls from his limp hold onto the scuffed floor; he doesn't retrieve it. Thunder churns in the distance.
This is as close as he gets to sleep, most days.
Right now, though, he's at risk of falling sideways off his perch and doesn't even know it. He probably wouldn't mind if it didn't stir him. Most days he's not sitting on an unstable box in the attic of CBI headquarters.
Most days are not today.
But they are becoming.
The crack of heels against the floor. "Jane?"
She tucks an escaped lock of hair behind her hair and frowns. She squints in the dimness. For a moment, she thinks he's not here and almost turns to leave when she catches sight of the figure, half-buried in the shadows.
The turbulence of the weather is reflected in his unseeing eyes. She speaks again; "Jane?" and again he doesn't respond.
Her stomach drops, like when your foot misses a step, or when you go to your pocket for your phone in your pocket and it's not there.
"Jane?" she asks, even louder this time.
His head snaps up and his body flinches as he is thrust violently from his reverie. The precarious box can't take it and Patrick Jane is dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. This doesn't disrupt him that much, however. He looks around, surprised at his new position on the floor. Then he sees Lisbon.
"Oh."
They stare at each other for a few moments and then he slowly gets to his feet, picking up the journal on the way.
"What are you doing here, Jane? Sitting on a box, in the dark?"
"I. I was thinking. It's quiet here." That is, until you come alone. He turns to face the window.
"Well, thank you for telling me. I've been looking everywhere for you."
He just half shrugs. "Sorry."
"Next time, can you at least mention where you're going off to brood, so I don't think you've been abducted by blood thirsty aliens?"
"No."
She sighs, exasperated. He gives her a slightly amused look, the shadow of a smile appearing faintly on his lips. "I was actually thinking of moving my sofa up here."
"Well, then you'll never come downstairs."
He turns to look at her.
She realizes how his eyes are such a complex shade of blue. They look grey in some lights, green in others, sometimes teal. And even when he smiles, they always have just a touch of sadness. He turns the book over in his hands.
"Exactly."
A/N: Just a drabble based on the first episode. Thoughts?