Chapter Four

Jane still remembered when he had told Timothy Carter, many years before, that getting rid of Red John would mean being free. And yet, he had never believed such a lie. Maybe it was because he thought that Red John's end would mean his downfall too, either jail or death. Living with a memory of his lost family wasn't part of the equation, and yet, here he was, hunted.

Hunted by his beloved lost family. Lost because of him.

Hunted by the memory of Lisbon, lost to him. Forever belonging to someone else.

He remembered that someone –many someone, actually –had once told him that to be free he had to leave. Find a new meaning for his life, a new place to live, another woman to love, a new family to add to. Well, despite being ten years late, here he was, doing as he was said for once in his life, trying to readjust to life by getting a life. Only, it wasn't as easy as they had made it sound. He was restless, hyped up, always on edge. He had been traveling for over two months, and yet, he couldn't stay for more than a couple of days in the same place. Her had already gone through the whole California, had traveled to Nevada (and risked arrest in Vegas, where he had been gently asked to never return to during those six months few years before) and was trying to think a new plan of action. Only, he couldn't planned, as much as he wanted to. Because deep down traveling., getting a new life wasn't want he wanted: he wanted a new life with people he cared about, the people he would have lost, if he didn't return home sooner rather than later.

But there was just one tiny, little problem: he couldn't come back home. Not when home was where Lisbon lived, not if she was still with someone else. And did he really thought she deserved the left-over of a man like he was? Teresa deserved better. That was why he had left. They were better off that way.

And yet, even if his mind kept telling him it was right, he felt just like a shell, empty. He liked to think it was what he had always been, that nothing changed, but the more he thought about it, the more he remembered that when he had been around her, he had felt human again, like he could be happy. Maybe even have a future-with her. But he had to stop thinking about it. It was why he had left, after all, because fairy tales were just bed-time stories never meant to happen in real life, and he was neither frog prince nor charming prince: they both had to look somewhere else-for someone else- if they wanted to get a happily ever after. He had hoped that traveling could help, but he had been wrong, and the rain that was wetting that part of California just made it worse. He missed everything that was sunny to him, Sacramento, Lisbon, his house, his family… all things that weren't his any longer.

The thunder roared, and at the side of the road, walking under the rain, Jane saw a young girl. Quite tall, slender, long blonde hair, he thought about stopping by and ask her if she wanted a ride, but then he shook his head. No, he wanted to be alone-needed to, actually – and besides, that girl, she somehow screamed troubles. Asking her to join him wouldn't do.

But then, he felt like he was dying, his lugs filled with liquid fire as a memory thought lost hit him with an unknown force-even stronger than his own hate for Red John. He remembered when he almost died, his blood poisoned by Belladonna tea, and he had seen her, his beautiful baby girl, turned in the teenager she had never came to be. That day, one of the most painful, and yet perfect, days of his life, he had seen her, and that girl along the road, she was just like his Charlie. It was like she was a mirror image of that dream long treasured in his memory palace. He sighed. He knew what kind of tricks the mind could play. Either he was reimagining Charlie, adapting her image to the girl's one, or he had seen that very girl somewhere, whenever, by accident, without actually noticing her. And yet, right now it felt like he was seeing that vision, and as crazy as it could sound, he felt like, by betraying the stranger, he was betraying his own blood and bones yet again. And he couldn't have any of that.

He sighed, almost mad at himself, and without slowing down he made a U turn and stopped abruptly right before the blonde teenager. She looked at him hesitantly, in silence, and he stared at her back, his eyes dark, hard. He didn't say a word wither. Jane was mad, was annoyed, but not with the girl. He was the problem once again, because as much as he tried to move on with his life, to forget about his past, there was something that menaced to hunt him again, to bring him back to that dark place he had sworn he would never live again in.

"So?!" It was half a question, half an affirmation. His eyes never left hers, even when he opened the passenger door from his own side of the car. The girl looked around herself, in the distance, and then she decided to accept his kindness. She joined him in the car, sitting on his jacket, and like she was a wet dog she shook her hair, wetting Jane too. She gasped when she realized what she had just done, and Jane could see that she was worried. The girl had done so on autopilot, and now she thought that the grumpy old man was mad with her because he was as wet as a dog. He sighed, shaking his head, but yet he didn't add anything. There was a small smile on his lips, clear indication that he wasn't as mad as she could assume.

"Ok, young lady, where can I drive you?" he asked as he returned on the main road, the rain stronger than before. The girl looked at the outside of the vehicle. She probably didn't know what to say, thinking that any wrong word could cost her the precious lift.

"I don't care, wherever it is you are going to, I'm fine with it. As long as it is as far away from here as possible." She answered him. It was told in that classic angst-y, annoyed, end of the world tone that teenagers felt compelled to use, and Jane barely resisted chuckling. He didn't know why, but he liked that girl. He was going to drive her mad, just like he had done so many times with…

With Lisbon.

"So… what's your name?" he asked her, but the blonde girl just kept looking outside, at the heavy rain. There wasn't a lot to see, but she seemed ok with anything that wouldn't include talking with the stranger who had been so nice to offer her a ride. Yep, she was a teenager all right. "I'm Patrick, by the way. But people calls me by my surname-Jane. Full-blooded Irish here!" he looked at her again, hoping to get a reaction, of any kind, but still nothing. No smile.

"Ok, so, it looks like we're not in the mood, uh? Ok, all right, you know what? I don't exactly know where I am going, it's more like a spur of the moment, go with the wind, kind of thing. But I was planning to reach East wick, and it's over an hour with this water, so what about a game?" She still didn't answer, nor looked at him. "I bet I can guess everything there is to know about you."

She turned, and stared at him. He could see she wanted to laugh at him, but he didn't say anything. Not yet, at least. "Oh, really? And how do you plan of doing so, oh mighty one?" She mocked him, snorting in a very un-lady like manner.

"It's true. I used to be a psych. I can prove it to you. Right now."

She snorted yet again, shaking her head, looking at him like she was the sensible adult and he the kid. "There's no such a thing as psychs."

Jane gulped down a mouthful of saliva. Why was she using such words? That was a sort of catch phrase of his. It was what he often told people who assumed he had some kind of power. How could she know it? Was it just a coincidence? But then again, he didn't believe that coincidences actually existed, so, how was is possible? For a second, he even believed that the girl was an emissary of Red John, sent to taunt him, but then he remembered that the killer and his entourage were no more. It had to be just that, a coincidence. After all, didn't he once tell Lisbon that he wasn't always right?

"Ouch. Looks like someone doesn't like grammar too much. I didn't say that I am a psych, just that I used to be one. " He answered her in his knowing it all tone. It was kind of fun. He was behaving like he used it with criminals, only, the girl was just as normal as they got. And he wasn't even conning her. It was just perfect.

"So, you were, what, a con-man?"

"Meh. Con-man is such a bad word…" he chuckled, than hummed for a short while, his eyes always on the road ahead. "Ok, let's see… you are a minor, I'd say fourteen, despite looking few years older. By the way, looking older isn't wanted, you do your best to look like a girl your age because when you were younger, the other girls made fun of you. I'm not exactly an expert, but I've been told that early physical development in a girl can be quite painful on a psychological side."

She snorted, shaking her head. If Jane believed that win her over could be that easy, he was mistaken. She knew how he was doing such a thing. She wasn't born yesterday. Besides, it was probably the easiest thing to guess about her.

Jane shook his head, sighing, and for a fraction of second he looked at the girl. It was clear she was in pain, and seeing that pain, he wondered if he was doing the right thing by helping her running away from home. He knew she wasn't going away for nothing serious: Lisbon would have told him to talk her out of her decision, because she believed that there was nothing that couldn't be fixed with care, affection, time and patience. Maybe it was time to try her solution.

He took a big breath, and went on.

"I also think that you believed yourself to be a little spoiled. Not too much, you've never asked for anything your parents couldn't provide you with, but when you asked for something, you usually got it in the end. It normally came from your father, and he often didn't ask your mother about it. You used to believe it was because he felt like you were his princess, but now you've realized that it was because he wanted to still look like the loving father, that he was looking for forgiveness. He has been having an affair, with a much younger woman. She was old enough to be legal as there is just rage and no shame in you, but I think you still knew her from your childhood. Maybe a playmate, like the daughter of a neighborhood. But what it's really crazy is that you aren't mad with him. No, you are mad with your mother. You think it was her fault if your dad was cheating on her. She didn't look after herself enough, didn't try to look beautiful… maybe PST, or…did she lose a child, maybe?"

And then, he saw them, the tears in her eyes, and as she started hitting him with her bare fists, Jane barely made it on the side of the road before they would end up in an accident. And then, as they weren't moving any longer, she slapped him in the face, as hard as she could. She hit the target the first time, but when she went for his face again, Jane stopped her before it was too late.

"Ehy! What the hell?"

"What the hell? What the hell? I should be the one saying what the hell! What the hell do you want from me?" she screamed, unable to keep the tears and a cry from the deep of her soul from emerging. "What the hell do you want, uh? You hope that sad little girl will try to get sex from you because now she has daddy issues?!" She stared at his hand on his hurting face, and saw the ring, the gold enlightened by the passing cars. "What does your wife think about this, uh?" She asked with venom in her voice, disgusted by him.

"My wife and our daughter have been murdered over ten years ago" he said, crying, something that he had done probably just a couple of times before, when it came to his family and that hideous tragedy. "And now, I've lost the only other women who I ever loved…."

"Oh" she told, simply. There wasn't really a lot she could say about this. She was mad with herself, as many troubles as they parents could get in… they were still there. All of them.

"When I pretended to be a psych, I went on TV, and mocked a killer. And instead of hurting me, he killed my family. Way worse, because if you really want to hurt a man, before killing him, you hurt his family." he paused. "After, I asked to help the investigators with the case, and it was there that I met her. Teresa Lisbon. Hard assed, beautiful, sweet investigator with the desire to fix everything and everyone. Me included. I told her she couldn't fox me, but I am starting to think that I was wrong."

He smiled. "She is alive, isn't she? You look sad but… you know… just not so much."

He nodded. "It took us over ten years to catch that killer, and all along, he taunted me. Told me he wanted to kill every happy memory I had. That I couldn't get close to someone without having the, getting killed, or taken away from here. I liked her, a lot, but I was too scared of losing her to actually confess my feelings, and now that he is gone…. I hoped that we would be both of on the same page, but I was wrong because she has moved on with her life and now she has a boyfriend, and as much as I want to protect her, I can't look at Teresa getting married to someone who isn't me."

She shook her head, and took his hand in her own, squeezing it, almost painfully. She was so sad for this man. But nothing was lost, right? His Teresa wasn't dead. He could still talk her in joining him. And she still had both her own parents, after all…

"I think…" she told him, tentatively, her voice broken by her tears. "I think that we should both go back home."

He nodded, and made another U turn, and as he got closer and closer to where he had found her earlier, the sun rose, and it stopped raining.