Blue.
Blue sky, blue eyes, blue skirt.
Blue blankets covering an inanimate lump of human.
The inanimate lump of a human that was Patrick Jane, to be exact.
They had released him from Solitary and into the rest of the institution earlier this morning. They made it very clear someone would be watching him at all times. George, in fact, was observing Patrick in the room at this very moment. After spending his first day and the following four days in Solitary, Patrick found the company of other humans odd. Not that he had a longing to interact and get to know anyone anyways. He lay underneath the blue blankets provided for him on his bed in the right corner of the bedroom he shared. He began to wonder who his roommate was, and if he'd ever get to meet him.
Patrick did take a liking to Sophie. Granted he hadn't opened his mouth to her yet and simply heard her analysis of him (which was only half way accurate, if you asked him) and didn't feel the need to talk to anyone at this point in time. Patrick was trying to pull himself together on his own, but the harder he tried the further he sank. Why try if you're going to end up right back where you came from?
As of right now, the view out of his window towards the courtyard was enough. The soft blue autumn sky was welcoming to the middle aged man. No one was outside today as the weather was a tad bit chilly. However, the sun shone well enough through the window enough to light up the room.
One day, finally, where Jane felt completely and utterly relaxed. No distractions, no obligations, no restraints.
Without warning, the door to the room swung open excitedly. In scrambled a stubby chubby man with loose black curly hair. He fashioned the same white shirt, pants, and slippers that everyone else in the hospital had.
Younger man, mid twenties per say. Either highly hyperactive or schizophrenic.
The man proceeded to whisper subtly to himself.
I'm betting on the latter, Patrick thought. Has an emotional relationship with food-eats to make the voices quit for the time being. He can't grasp onto anything else that's real except food, thus explaining the slight obesity. Childish at heart.
The intruder jumped at the sight of Patrick curled up in the so usually vacant bed. Taken aback and unaware as to what to do, he simply stared at the lump of a human. Patrick extended the eye contact towards him letting the silence simmer. A grin grew on the intruder's face, joy filling his entire being.
"Hey! You must be the new guy!" he excitedly approached Patrick with an extended hand. "The name's Peter!"
Peter waited for a response that would never occur. After a few awkward moments, he made eye contact with George, then shifted his wide-eyed gaze back to Patrick.
"Oh... you're on watch for the big 'S', huh? They won't leave you alone for a good few days or so. It's like you get an automatic best friend for a few days! George is pretty chill so you have no need to freak out about him. He's a great guy. Just be extra super good so you don't end up with Butch. He's mean and scary and I'm pretty sure he has no friends."
Peter retreated to his own bedside, pulling out a trunk from beneath his bed. It held hundreds and hundreds of comic books, action figures, cards, a few snacks (that he strategically kept out of George's sight), the works. The stubby chubby character grabbed four comics, slammed the trunk shut and slid it back underneath the bed. He worked himself onto his bed, scooting all the way against the wall to remain facing Patrick.
"So, whatcha in for? I'm guessing the big 'S', huh? Since, you know, George is here and all."
Patrick locked his gaze with the sky and few clouds that were outside the secured window, refusing to respond in any way shape or form.
Peter hardly took silence for an answer.
"HEY. YOU. HELLOOOO. Are you deaf, too? Because I mean that's totally cool nothing against deaf people because I bet then you have really good sniffers or eyes or something else since the big guy screwed you in the hearing department but tha-"
Patrick shifted his gaze to Peter who took the contact like a blow to the face. Immediately shutting up in response to the daggers that were Jane's blue eyes, Peter opened one of his comic books.
Patrick proceeded to shut his eyes, inhaled deeply, and followed up with an equally exhausting exhale.
"Tired?" Peter prodded. Patrick remained with eyes shut, but nodded.
"So you CAN hear me! Man, I mean I've dealt with the crazies, you know, like murderers and bipolars and schizo's but never a deaf crazy! That'd definitely be something new and I mean I've been here for quite some time so I guess new is good but I've definitely never had someone who doesn't talk either. OOH! That's it! You can't talk! That's why you're so quiet! I mean, why on earth wouldn't someone want to talk! That's the main way of communica-"
George let out a slight laugh from his position in the corner of the room. This obviously is something that happens quite often.
"George told me whenever he started to laugh, that was when I needed to call it quits on the chatter," Peter explained to Jane.
"He's just had a rough week," George explained to Peter. "Not sure what to think or say, is my guess. I bet he enjoys the company to some degree, though Peter. Tell him why you're here."
"Why I am here?!" Peter exclaimed. He looked intently at Jane, eyes as wide as all get out. Patrick met his stare.
"You wanna know why I've been cooped up here for forever?" Peter excitedly asked. He went on without cue.
"I killed a bunch of six year old's."
This caught Patrick's attention.
Peter reenacted the event with body motions. "I saw a bunch of the little suckers in class and went in with a gun and BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! All of 'em! Goners!"
Patrick's stomach sank. This man may as well be the equivalent to Red John. He lifted his head, keeping eye contact with Peter. His right forearm helped shift him up in his bed. All color had vanished from his face. This guy was asking for it. You didn't throw Patrick Jane in a living space with a child murderer.
Peter stared sadistically at Patrick, the corner of one side of his mouth lifting slightly.
"HA! JUST KIDDING!" Peter broke out into the most hysterical laughter that could be heard from miles away. "Dude, you should've seen your face, man! HA HA! PRICELESS! Oh man. Every time! EVERY TIME!" Peter reveled in his successful prank.
Jane was out from under the covers and on top of Peter in less than a millisecond.
How dare you joke about killing children? HOW DARE YOU.
Patrick lunged himself at the man, gripping his hands firmly around his throat. This kind of sick human should not be living! Joke or not, it's not something to kid about. His face flushed red as his grip became tighter and tighter around his thick neck.
George was quick to get to Patrick, hitting him on the back side of the head and yanking him off of Peter with all his strength.
"Patrick! Calm down!" George yelled at the savage man, gripping him around his waist as firm as he could before he gave in. Patrick's eyes remained locked on the fear filled eyes of Peter. Jane gave in, agreeing to rest back on the bed. His chest rose and fell with each intense and restless breath, refusing to take his eyes off the chubby roommate.
"D-Dude...I was totally just kidding...I...I'm sorry, man. I really was just trying to be funny...I..." Peter rambled aimlessly. He brought a hand straight to his neck, softly rubbing the spots Patrick had gripped. His frightened eyes remained locked with Patrick's. Full of anger, full of rage, full of revenge.
Silence lingered between them for several seconds before Peter hopped up and bolted out of the room. Jane brought a hand to his forehead, allowing the tears to stain his face. The loose, soon vocal, sobbing progressed. George kept a hand on Patrick's shoulder, attempting to comfort him in any way he could.
"Listen, I'm not going to turn this one in because you've already had a rough week. But next time this happens, I'll be turning you in. Understand?"
Jane nodded, retiring to his mold in the bed. He adjusted the blankets over top of him and held onto them tightly.
Unavoidably, he revisited that ominous night. He curled up and shut his eyes as the events of the night of his wife and daughter's murder haunted his mind and poisoned his brain.