Author's notes: Thank you to TiaCelaya, Mossi.b, Jane Doe51, MartyMc49, Ag, Louisekurylo, and Clover81, for reviewing the last chapter, it was great and I loved hearing your thoughts. Hope you enjoy this chapter.
Jane's hand is gripping the handle of the door as it approaches David's home, there are a swarm of official federal vehicles parked at all angles in the road. Agent Picket has to stop some distance away. Jane has the door open and is out of the car sprinting towards the house as soon as the car is stationary. At the door, he's met by his wife and he stops abruptly and a shudder of horror runs through him.
"He's not…"
Lisbon shakes her head and her eyes fill with regret and comfort.
"I'm sorry Patrick, I didn't mean to scare you. There's been no news at all, no sightings. His father is a mess."
Jane rests his hand on his wife's arm and gives it a gentle squeeze.
"Not your fault, just my paranoia."
Jane turns toward Cho, who's striding down the hallway towards them, Agent Picket has also joined them. Cho is holding an evidence bag in his hand, he holds it out towards Jane.
"The boy left this note, can you get anything from it Jane that might tell us where he's gone."
Jane takes the bag and after reading it, looks up at Cho.
"I'm not psychic Cho. All this says is goodbye."
Cho shrugs:
"You've worked with less."
Jane answers looking at the note once more.
"I think we can all see from the shaky handwriting that he was very upset. He didn't feel compelled to write any last words to his dad or his sister, which suggests he running away from what he can't cope with, rather than it being a permanent departure. But at his age, it can quickly turn in to one."
Jane's eyes move down the hallway.
"Does his Dad have any knowledge of a hideaway place that David likes?"
Cho shakes his head.
"No he's in such a state he can't think straight. His Mother is here but she lives out of town and doesn't know of any such place. His father is driving around the town looking for him Maybe you can calm him down."
Jane shakes his head.
"I think it'll be more useful to look at David's room."
He turns towards his wife.
"Teresa, lead the way."
Jane sits down on David's bed and looks around the room. The décor reflects the boys interest in cars. There's a mural taking up one wall of a F1 racing scene. It, includes, two fararri cars speeding along a track, with observers behind barriers, some of which bear a striking resemblance to the fractured family. Judging by the depiction of the children it was completed recently. He stands up and takes a closer look. The brush strokes, all though very good, denote an amateur hand, but also a loving one. From the strength of the strokes he concludes that it was painted by David's father. He turns his back to it and continues his sweep of the room. Another wall is taken up with chalkboard paint. The lower portion of which is covered in chalk lines and squiggles, each one a testament to the boys anger. They're harshness plain to see. Jane's throat constricts as he conjours in his mind's eye, David, with tears streaming down his face, attacking the board with all the ferocity his little body could manage. Jane estimates he was at it for at least half an hour, and still it wasn't enough to sate him. He feels Lisbon slip her hand in his own. He marvels, not for the first time, how, though his own engulfs her, the depth of comfort and strength he derives from her touch. He points to the chalkboard.
"He's very angry."
Jane doesn't let go of her hand as he moves towards the board. He raises his other hand and traces some of the lines.
"He's angry with the changes in his world, at his Dad for not being there to save his Mom, at himself for not being big enough to save her, to the men who did it."
Lisbon speaks softly:
"That's a lot of anger for a little boy."
Jane nods.
"He doesn't know how to cope with it."
His hand sweeps the air in front of the wall.
"This obviously didn't help."
Jane turns towards her, his eyes betraying the depth of desperation he's feeling.
"We need to find him."
He lets go of her hand and moves slowly around the room, talking to Lisbon as he goes. Picking up objects, staring intently at the photographs. Lisbon sits down on the bed, content to watch her husband at work. She regrets it immediately, it's low to the ground and getting back up with baby bump she knows will be difficult. She can see the tension in Jane and knows he's suffering and blaming himself for not doing enough, for not seeing it coming.
"He's attempting to run away from his feeling that are too heavy for him to cope with. He will go somewhere that has brought him happiness, hoping that it will replace the anger he has. The problem is when he finds that it doesn't work."
He takes a photo off the wall and takes a closer look.
"Did his father say if anything was missing?"
Lisbon shakes her head.
"His father's incapable of saying or doing anything right now."
As Lisbon's speaking Jane's attention moved to the small cupboard beside David's bed, he strides over towards it.
"I need to talk to him."
He picks up a leaflet laying on top of it and is out the room before Lisbon has chance to lift herself off the bed. As she attempts to push herself off, Jane suddenly reappears:
"Sorry, let me help."
"I can manage."
Jane folds his arms.
"Okay."
She makes a couple more attempts to find leverage, but the softness of the mattress fails her. She scowls up at her husband.
"Are you just going to stand there?"
"Of course not, my dear."
He places the leaflet in his mouth and offers his hands towards her, she reluctantly, but secretly, gratefully, takes them and he pulls her up. She moves in close to him.
"It's not your fault."
He looks at her in surprise.
"What am I being blamed for now."
"You're blaming yourself. It's not your fault David's gone."
Jane's shaking his head.
"I should have seen it yesterday. I should have said more."
"You did all you could."
Jane eyes are full of regret and his voice is ruff with emotion:
"It wasn't enough."
Lisbon kisses him on the cheek.
"I love you."
Jane returns her kiss and whispers in her ear.
"Thank you for trying."
He gives her hand a squeeze and leads her out of the room.
They find Jason, his mom, and Agent Picket in the living room. Everyone turns to look towards them as they enter the room except for David's father. Jason. Hes sat in a chair, his Mother is beside him, holding his hand in both of hers, stroking it, wanting a connection with him, because Jason is staring blankly ahead, his eyes empty, his body erect and stiff. Jane pulls up a chair and sits down in front of him. He touches him gently on the knee.
"Jason, It's Patrick Jane, do you remember me? I was here yesterday with my wife, Agent Lisbon."
Jason shows no acknowledgement to Jane's words. Jane lowers his tone, and speaks with a smooth rhythmic cadence.
"Jason, I know you're hurting and you're scared for your son, scared of losing him too. I know that feeling of loss, I know how debilitating it is, how much it hurts. But you're son isn't gone for good, we just don't know where he is right now. I will find him, I can promise you that, but I need you're help."
Jason's eyes flicker towards Jane's face for a moment. Jane's mouth twitches at the corners.
"I think I know where he is, but I need your help, and he needs you too."
Jane rests a hand on one of his knees.
"Will you help me Jason."
Jason doesn't look at him but he asks:
"What can I do?"
A choked gasp comes from his Mother and her hands tighten around his as she says his name.
"Jason."
Jason turns his head slowly towards his Mother, his eyes glisten with tear and she takes him into her arms. The room is quiet as this broken son takes comfort in his Mother's arms. Jane and Lisbon exchange looks, Lisbon nodding her head in agreement that he needs to interrupt them, but Jason is already moving away and he looks to Jane.
"Where is David?"
Jane removes the leaflet from his jacket pocket.
"I'm certain he's here. Do you know where he would go? Do you have a particular place you watch from, or a place David is particular too?"
Jason is wiping his eyes with a tissue given to him by his Mother and he's nodding his head.
"David loves that place, we go every month. He loves the pits."
