I was asked to write a little something between Cho and Patrick (as Red John) with Charlotte still being alive.
Only one more chapter left and this story will be complete!
Warnings: Sex. Murder. Implied attempted sexual assult. Described violence and murder.
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A sigh fell from Kimball's lips as he finally closed the door to his apartment. He had never felt happier to be away from the rest of the world in his life. He wasn't normally the type of person to run and hide away, but things were different.
It had been a rather slow day at work. Something that he was both grateful for and had truly hated. He knew that he wasn't in the right state of mind to be running around the town with a loaded weapon.
At the same time though the fact that he had been stuck at a desk doing paperwork had left him with too much time to think. Which was the last thing that he had really wanted to do. Needless to say he did not get much work done at all.
Van Pelt and Rigsby had both known that something was wrong with him and had been doing little things to make him feel better. Rigsby had even gone as far as driving to his favorite takeout place and getting him lunch. He hadn't been able to tell him that he wasn't feeling hungry.
In truth he had no idea what he was feeling. Sure he knew that he should feel guilty for what had happened the night before. He didn't though. He felt nothing towards his actions even though he knew he should.
Every time he closed his eyes he saw what he had done as if someone had been holding a camera throughout it. He had heard from many people that they blacked out, saw red, when he killed someone.
That wasn't what happened with him. He remembered every little detail. He really wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. He wasn't sure if he had lost control over himself when he had beat the man to death.
That was the other thing that was getting to him. In all of his years he had never killed someone with his bare hands. As a gangbanger in the streets, in the Army, or as a cop that had never happened to him before.
Knives and gun, yes, those were standard weapons of killing for him. He wasn't proud of it, but he had done his job. Never before had he used his bare hands though. That took a level of rage that he didn't think that he had.
He had spent the entire night trying to figure out where that rage had come from. He had no idea. All he knew was that someone had been attempting to harm Charlotte. He couldn't let them do that.
Kimball didn't think that he was all that close to the teenager or her father. He cared about them both and thought of them as part of the team, but that was it. Somehow he doubted he would have done what he did for anyone else on the team.
Not just because they could take care of themselves either. They had all been in situations where they needed to be rescued by the team. It was the whole reason for cops being put as partners or in teams in the first place.
When it came to anyone else though he had reacted as he should. He pulled his weapon and either fired or arrested the person before they could do more damage to whoever they were after. He never lost control.
This had ended differently. Not just because he had killed beat the person to death, but because he had forgotten that he was a cop. That he was not in any danger and could have very easily arrested the person.
It was only after Jane dropped him off at home that it occurred to him that he ha had had his gun with him the whole time. That his badge had been clipped on his belt the whole time. That he was in fact a cop.
There was no reason for him to use his fists. There had been so many other options for him in that moment. He had done none of those things. Instead he had beaten a man to death because… Because he had wanted to be the cause of his death.
Not a gun or a knife. He hadn't wanted the guy to rot in jail for what he had done. He had simply wanted the man to suffer. To die in pain. The best way to do that was to make sure he was the one that did it.
That was not a feeling that he was used to having. He had come across some horrific cases that had made him want to kill the person, but he had never actually gone through with it. He wasn't that type of person. At least he didn't think he was.
He had based his entire life around the idea that he was in control over his self and his emotions. He had gotten so good at it that he doubted people would know what to do if he did show what he was feeling. Actually he knew people had no idea what to do when he showed his feelings.
At that that's what he had thought. Then Jane came up to him in that school. He had acted as if nothing was wrong. That it was just another day in the office for them both. He had acted nothing like the Patrick Jane he knew.
Any reasonable person would have freaked out if they saw one man beating another man well after they were dead. They would have screamed and called the cops. Not Jane. He had taken everything in stride.
It made no sense that that was his reaction. In that moment everything that he thought he knew about the older man had been thrown out the window. At least it would have been if he had been focused on him in that moment.
Instead he had let the faux-psychic take lead. He had let him lead them back to the care and had believed him when he saw that he was going to take care of everything. He had even listened when the man dropped him off at home with orders to take a shower and sleep. Well, mostly listened.
Sleep hadn't come easy. He had spent the entire night thinking about what he had done and what Jane had meant when he said that he was going to take care of everything. What was it that he could do to 'take care' of what he had done?
Those thoughts had only gotten worse when he went into the work in the morning and found that Jane wasn't there. Lisbon said that Charlotte was sick and Jane was taking care of her, but he knew that was a lie. Charlotte wasn't sick or hurt. He had made sure of that.
So he had sat on his desk and did his best not to stare at the older man's couch. And possibly, trying not to jump at every movement around him. He wasn't very hopeful that his team wasn't going to bring it up soon.
Every time someone walked into the room though he thought they were there for him. That they were going to arrest him for what he had done. Fun fact… Do not go to a place with a bunch of cops right after you kill someone.
He knew that was what he deserved though. He might not feel any guilt for what he had done, but he had still done it. The only logical thing for him to do was to turn himself in and let the courts decide his fate.
The only thing that stopped him from doing so was Jane not being there. The man had said that he was going to take care of it. If he had a plan that it was worth it to see what he was going to do. So he was going to wait until he did what he was going to do.
"Slow day, Cho?" someone questioned softly causing him to grab his gun and spin towards the voice.
It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dark before he noticed that someone was sitting on his couch. It took even longer for his brain to register that it was Jane. How was it that he was both shocked and really not seeing the man there?
"Jane," he stated putting his gun in its holster.
"Sorry to startle you," the man smiled as if it was any other day, "We need to talk and I figured you'd feel better if we did that here."
"Of course you did. Tea?"
"Already helped myself. You're a very good host. Thank you."
Shaking his head at the man's antics Kimball turned away and walked into his kitchen to make himself a cup. He didn't want the other man to see just how shaken he was at the moment. It was never good letting him see weakness.
"You don't have to hide, Kimball," Jane offered walking into the room, "I know you're worried."
"I did commit murder last night," Kimball replied calmly, "I think it's warranted."
"You kept my daughter safe last night."
"I didn't have to kill him to do that. There were other ways."
"Maybe, but you chose to kill him."
"I know."
"No one else has to."
Blinking Kimball turned towards the man to question what he had meant. Before he could get the words out though a hand came up to cup the back of his head. For a moment they stood there in silence before Jane pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.
Kimball stood there unmoving not quite believing what was happening. There was no way that Jane was kissing him. As soon as he thought the other man was pulling away his fingers kneading at his neck.
"I've been watching you for so long," Jane offered his eyes boring into his own as if they could see through him, "I tried to ignore you. You kept coming back though. Every time you came back. I'd push your file off my desk you'd do something else. Something wonderful. Something powerful. I can't seem to get rid of you."
"I don't..." Kimball tried to say.
"I know. I know you don't. Like I said we have a lot to talk about. There's so much I have to tell you. We have time for all of that later though. I promise. Right now it doesn't matter."
"What does?"
"You."
Jane descended on him again. Pulling him into a kiss that was more loving and passionate than anything he had felt before. Without thinking he wrapped his arms around the older man's neck and let himself give in.
He wasn't the type of person that needed to be taken care of, but in that moment he didn't want to fight it. He felt so safe and protected. Two words that he never really associated with the faux-psychic before.
The man walked them back until he was pressed snugly between the older man and the wall. A gasp fell from his lips feeling his body against his own. He never would have thought that the man would feel as good as he did.
He felt his shirt being pulled up before a strong, smooth hand worked its way under. Arching up into it he reveled in how warm and soothing it felt. He already felt like he was at the edge and they had just begun.
Breaking the kiss he let his head fall back against the wall. The older man took advantage of the display and began to press kiss to his neck. He had never thought that Jane would be such a sweet and caring lover, but he found that he loved it.
The hands moved down his body until they were holding his hips tightly. Kimball felt himself being pulled away from the wall and through the house until they were standing in the middle of his bedroom.
Jane pulled away from him just far enough to send him a smile before he was being pushed onto his bed the older man following him down. Normally he hated being under someone like that, but there was something about the man that made him not care.
"Jane," Kimball groaned feeling him grind his hips down.
"Patrick," he replied his hands moving to unbutton the agent's shirt, "Please. Call me Patrick."
Kimball gasped as his shirt was thrown off to the side Patrick's joining it a moment later. As soon as their shirts were off the older man was bending over him nipping at his neck and chest. His hands roamed over his body gently caressing everywhere they went.
Panting harshly his heart beating wildly the agent felt his eyes slip shut. He was never a very vocal person in bed, but he couldn't stop the mewls of pleasure leaving his lips.
"Patrick," he gasped his hips thrusting up trying to feel more of the man, "Please."
"I know," the man muttered his teeth grazing his skin, "There's so many things I want to do to you, Kimball. I can't wait."
The agent found himself cold as the older man stood up. Opening his eyes he watched as Patrick stripped them both down before climbing on top of him again. A voice in the back of his head promised him that he'd get a better look at him later.
Patrick stretched out over him until they were eye to eye. A loving smile was on his lips as he bent down and kissed him once more. The older man took control of the kiss pushing his tongue into Kimball's mouth.
It didn't take long before the kiss was turning desperate. The faux-psychic pushing his legs apart so he could kneel between them. It was the closest he'd ever see Patrick to losing control. He was the cause of that. That thought should not turn him on as much as it did.
A hand slowly slid down his body until it was brushing over his hole. Gasping loudly he tried to grind down against it. Every nerve in his body felt as if it were on fire and it wasn't enough.
"Please," Kimball pleaded not caring how desperate he sounded, "Patrick, please."
The older man froze for a second before a growl reverberated in his chest. Pulling away he flipped Kimball onto his stomach and bent down to suck bruises onto his back. He just barely registered the sound of lube being opened as his mind tried to ooze out of his ears.
Torturous slow a finger was pushed into him causing him to fall onto the bed. It wasn't enough to dull the ache he felt though. He needed more. He needed Patrick inside of him before he went insane.
"P-Please," he gasped breathlessly.
He didn't have to wait long before a second finger was being pushed into followed closely by a third. He knew in the back of his mind that it wasn't the best preparation, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to care.
"So beautiful," Patrick muttered his free hand running over the younger man's thighs, "You're perfect, Kimball."
"Patrick."
"Shh. I've got you."
A whine escaped Kimball as the fingers were pulled out leaving him empty. That feeling only lasted a second before the man was pushing his hard cock into him. His mouth fell open in a silent scream as he was stretched.
Everything had been so calm and loving before, but now that the man was inside of him he set a harsh pace. The headboard slammed into the wall with every snap of his hips. It had been so long since anyone had been that rough with him. It was perfect.
Kimball had felt as if he was at his wits end long before Patrick was in him so it didn't take more than a few thrusts to having tumbling over the edge. His body went boneless as the older man continued to use him.
Behind him the older man stiffened his fingers tightening almost painfully on the agent's hips. A low growl echoed through the bedroom as he finally reached his peak his seed spilling into Kimball's body.
A sigh fell from his lips as Patrick slowly pulled out of him and fell onto the other side of the bed. Both of them laid panting trying to get control over themselves once more. Though Kimball wasn't sure that was possible.
"Kimball," Patrick muttered running his fingers over the man's sweat slicked back.
"Patrick," he responded not bothering to open his eyes.
"I fought myself not to do this sooner."
"Why?"
"There's a lot of things you don't know about me yet. I didn't… I didn't think you'd accept them. Then last night you..."
"Murdered someone?"
"Yes. That's exactly what changed. You killed someone."
"Why would that change anything in a positive way? Or are you doing this before you call Lisbon and have me sent to jail?"
"Oh, I'm not calling Lisbon or sending you to jail. That's the furthest thing from my mind. Like I said I took care of that. It doesn't matter anymore."
"Doesn't matter? How...? What did you do?"
"I disposed of the body and got rid of the evidence."
Finally opening his eyes Kimball moved so he was resting on his elbows so he was staring at the other man. His eyes darted over Patrick's face looking for the lie that he was sure was there. There was no way that…
"Patrick," Kimball started staring into his eyes, "What did..."
"I did what had to be done," he cut him off harshly, "That man was trying to rape my daughter. He would have gone after someone else if he wasn't stopped. Whether it was you doing it or me he wasn't long for this world."
"You… You're not making sense."
"I know. Maybe this will clear it up. Kimball Cho. My name is Patrick Jane and I'm Red John."