Red.
Red sheets, red floor, red walls.
Red stained lips, the irony taste of blood lingering with each kiss.
A thunderous roar of footsteps inundated the house, policemen and EMT's rushing into the bedroom.
"Sir? Sir, are you okay?"
Patrick Jane laid in bed between his wife and child; clinging to them, kissing his wife's cool, porcelain face.
"Sir? Sir, are you okay?"
The EMT's came closer, reaching to grab the weeping man by the shoulders to lift him from between the bloody, lifeless bodies.
"NO! Let me go!" He writhed from their grasp, collapsing back onto the bed.
"Mr. Jane, we need to attend to them. Please get up and come with-"
"No!" he screamed again, clinging to the bodies on either side of them. "Please. Not yet. Please."
"Mr. Jane, we have to go. Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"
He lay motionless between them. Not yet. This is my fault. I should be dead with them. I should be-
"Mr. Jane?"
"Mr. Jane?... Patrick?"
The blonde man woke with a start.
"Sorry! Sorry!" Sophie quickly backed away. "I didn't mean to scare you!"
"Ah, it's alright, Doctor." He yawned and turned over. "I expected some breakfast in bed today." he joked.
Sophie laughed, sitting on the still vacant bed across from him.
"Today's the day, Patrick."
He nodded. "...and no breakfast?"
"Not per maid service," she joked. "Here's your clothes. Come to my office when you're dressed."
She helped herself out of the room. Patrick yawned again, turning onto his back to face the white ceiling above him.
He blinked. It was the day.
Today was the day.
He turned to see his short pile of clothes on the bed across from him, his brown shoes placed neatly on top.
What a foreign uniform. Definitely different from what I've been used to.
He rose, thankfully forgetting the repetitive dream. This wasn't the first night he relived the trauma and it won't be the last.
The back of his hand met his eye, rubbing to clear and look out the window at the courtyard.
The shower water kissed his skin, warm drops soothing his every ache. He closed his eyes, letting the water wash away the pains brought from his subconscious. There was no room for that today.
Smelling of lavender and mint, he looked at the pile of old new clothes waiting for him. The feel of the fabric is surprisingly welcoming, as if being hugged by a loved one after a long time gone. He gently lead his arms, one by one, through the cool, white sleeves. His fingers manipulate each button, a dance they had hardly forgotten. His hands pull up his dense blue pants around his waist, securing them to secure him. The familiar smell and feel of his clothes comforted him, bringing his old and new self to be combined into one. He delicately threaded his arms through his worn navy blue jacket, the fabric hugging him as it used to. Slipping his feet into his socks, then into his brown worn shoes, he looked up and outside his window to the warm sky.
Breathe in.
Exhale.
What a beautiful day to regain my life.
"Quite the progress you've made, Patrick." Dr. Miller began, as she shut his manila file folder.
Patrick sat with his hands in his lap, staring down at his shoes.
"Patrick?"
He raised his glance to meet hers, surprised by a comforting smile.
"I am very proud of you."
A slight smile escaped the corners of his mouth as his gaze fell back down to his shoes.
"We all are very proud of you," she continued. "I have great faith in you, Patrick."
"Thank you," he muttered modestly.
A moment lingered between the two of them.
"Oof, careful now. You're reminding me of when you used to not say a word to me."
The two chuckled, that form of Patrick Jane being very distant to the one sitting in front of her today.
"Anything, Patrick?"
He looked up at her and smiled.
"Sophie, I can't begin to express how than-"
Dr. Miller exhaled, holding her hand up to him to stop him. "Patrick, please. It's not necessary-"
"No," he cut her off. "It is." He held her gaze before continuing. "Please."
A moment. Sophie exhaled once more, leaning back into her chair prepared to listen.
"I-I... I have to be honest, when I first came in here I didn't intend on living. I didn't intend on leaving. I didn't think this day would come. I didn't want any help, I didn't want to live, I didn't even want to try." The blonde man looked deeply into her eyes, never leaving contact. He leaned forward in his chair, taking her hands in his. "Dr. Miller, you have given me my life back. You've saved me. You have tolerated me, challenged me, and nursed me back to wellness. And I cannot begin to express how thankful I am for that...how thankful I am for you."
He smoothed his thumb over her soft, porcelain hands. A smile crawled on her face, speechless.
"Of course," she replied, softly, her eyes still connected with his. "And, Patrick, you know should you ever need anything that you know where to find me."
Patrick nodded. "I wish I could say the same."
"You said you wanted to go talk to Agent Lisbon at the CBI, right?"
"I might," he let go of her hands, leaning back in his chair to bring a hand to rest his face on. "Or I might go away somewhere." He smirked. "I can kind of do whatever I'd like."
"Well, I'll try the CBI first then."
"Sounds like a plan." He replied, softly.
They sat in the lingering silence; a comfortable one at that. Sophie had to admit that she never had a patient like Patrick Jane nor will she ever have another patient like Patrick Jane. Likewise, Patrick admired her technique in her work. Never being fond of psychologists, it was rare that he'd mention he'd taken a liking to one.
It was also rare of him to mention that he'd miss her.
Breaking the silence, Sophie rose from her chair. "Well, I'm sure they're waiting for you out front. Best to get going."
Patrick nodded, rising from his chair.
Dr. Miller embraced her now transformed patient. She cared much for Patrick, but managed to conceal her slight sadness of his departure and turn it into joy for him to start his new life.
Patrick gently pulled away from the hug, holding to Sophie's arms with his hands, and looked straight into her eyes. He treasured her connection and was unsure about when he'd find someone in his life to share a similar connection with again. His left hand graced her arm, wanting to hug her and hold onto her and thank her for as long as he could.
"Thank you, doctor. Goodbye."
Sophie smiled at him, keeping the prolonged eye contact and melting a bit beneath his touch.
"Goodbye, Patrick. Be well."
He nodded and smiled at her, lingering his hand within her hand, before leaving the familiar space for one last time.
He stood stoic at the base of the driveway to his seemingly abandoned house. He breathed in the foreign site, his body absorbing everything held in that space and structure.
Breathe in.
Exhale.
Step by step lead him to the front door, ignoring the small scrap of yellow crime scene tape still lingering in the nearby grass. He locates the spare key, delicately fitting it into the door, cautiously turning the lock as if the house did not belong to him. The door creaked open to the dusty space, just as he had left it.
He stepped in quietly, the silence ringing in his ears as he shut the door carefully behind him.
Breathe in.
Exhale.
Soft clicks from his heels echoed within the walls of the house. The dense air weighed down on him. He did not feel at peace in the space.
Nor should he.
He crept near the stairs, looking up them to the dark hallway above. He could feel his heart heavily pounding beneath his chest.
Breathe in.
Exhale.
One by one he lifted his feet up each stair, ascending into the dark hallway.
Breathe in.
Exhale.
He found the door.
Breathe in.
Exhale.
Their door.
Breathe in.
Exhale.
Slowly reaching for the knob, turning it motivated by each thump of his heart.
Breathe in.
Exhale.
Eyes meeting the gaze of those red ones permanently painted on the wall directly in front of him.
Breathe in.
Exhale.
Breathe in.
Exhale.
Breathe in.
Turn around.
Run.
The crisp mourning air pierced his lungs as he ran down the street.
He couldn't live there. He couldn't stay there. Not right now. Not at this moment.
Sophie talked about being careful when taking big steps. Going back to my home where my wife and child were murdered is considered a big step, right?
Right?
Right.
It's okay. You're okay.
He ran until the green grass greeted him. He ran through the black gates of the cemetery. He ran where he knew he needed to be.
He slowed himself to a walk, approaching the engraved stones. What a site. He crouched to his knees, catching his breath, not caring that the wet grass would soak through his pants. He removed his jacket, untucking his shirt and crouching into a ball on his side between the two stones.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, "I'm so so sorry. I'm so sorry."
He turned to lay on his back, his hands resting on his chest between the two. The breeze brushed over his body, into his warm body between his quivering lips.
The bright blue sky calmed his breathing as he watched the clouds pass overhead.
He had to have laid there for what felt like days, but that was merely hours.
Sophie's words kept repeating over and over again in his head.
"You can fight or you can give up and die.
Your choice.
You're in control.
You can do this, Patrick."
He reached into his pocket, retrieving a small piece of paper he'd ripped from his notebook.
He held it up to the sky, breeze tickling the little paper.
CBI. Red John Case: Teresa Lisbon
Breathe in.
Exhale.
A/N: This ending feeds directly into the episode of the 5th season "Red Dawn" when Patrick Jane shows up at CBI for the first time.
Special thanks to all of you guys who've stuck with me! I appreciate all of you guys so thank you!