Warning: I can't seem to help it - more Jane angst ahead...
An hour later they left the registrar of Red Bluff with barely any new information. The woman had been utterly shocked to be confronted with the very much alive 'stillborn' boy of her records, which also mentioned one Alexander Jane as a witness to the death of mother and child. She'd been helpful and understanding and had confirmed that yes, a man called Joseph Earl, who'd claimed to be Anne Earl's brother, had been paying for the maintenance of the grave site at least during the last two decades. She could even describe him and recognized him at once from a picture of Gale Bertram Lisbon had stored on her cell phone. He came once a year, the lady had told them, always on Anne's day of death, which, consequently, was the same as Patrick's birthday. Other then that, she'd only been able to give them the number of Anne's grave site and a map of the cemetery. Lisbon left her calling card and asked the registrar to contact her should Joseph show up, but to keep quiet about their own visit.
Outside again Lisbon called Van Pelt to ask about their progress. As it turned out, LaRoche seemed to be a fast driver and they'd already reached their destination. They'd just had a brief talk with a social worker, who hadn't been employed back during the relevant timeframe but had found on record the names of the foster parents, who'd taken in Joseph back in 1969. Currently they were trying to find out whether the couple, a Keith and Abigail Taylor, or at least one of them, was still alive and, if that was the case, where they lived today. Grace promised to call, should they get any further news.
Cho, Lisbon and Jane got into the car and drove back to the cemetery. Jane had been eerily silent during the whole time they'd spent with the registrar. Finding out that you, for all intents and purposes, didn't exist and your own father had claimed you dead must have come as another deep shock on top of all the rest he'd already had to deal with, Teresa thought worriedly.
It finally explained why Van Pelt hadn't found Patrick listed as a relative of Alexander Jane when she'd done her research after Alex' murder. What it also clarified was why no one had ever bothered to investigate Patrick's home situation and total lack of any formal education. To the system he simply hadn't existed until he'd managed to obtain official papers by fraud – probably with the help of hypnotism or such. In a way, his identity was as much a forged one as Gale Bertram's. But Patrick had invented himself unintentionally and only in the sense that he'd given himself an official existence to match his physical one.
Anyway, during the last weeks he had been losing bits and pieces of himself and the image he'd had of himself all his life. She couldn't even begin to fathom what this must do to his sense of self. With Alex dead he didn't have much of a chance to find out more about the circumstances around his mother's death either, but Lisbon was determined to force as much of the truth as possible out of Pete at the first opportunity. He was probably the only source of real information and he'd been close by during Patrick's birth, if what Ben had told her was true. And Patrick deserved the truth. He deserved to know where he came from, even more so now that it looked like those events had actually played a major part in the rest of the tragedy that had been his life so far.
His mother's death had already left a deep wound and an overwhelming sense of guilt and shame in his heart fueled by his father's cruel taunting and now it looked like he'd become the favorite plaything of a serial killer for the same reason. That this exact feeling of guilt had been the deciding factor for him to accept his role in Red John's sick game, and had led to his obsession for vengeance, only enhanced the tragedy of the situation in Teresa's eyes.
She felt like weeping for him, like hugging the hell out of him, and she hoped that her love for him could at least offer a little bit of comfort to his tortured soul. She was a bit unsure of the wisdom of visiting his mother's grave at this moment in time, but somehow she doubted she could make him reconsider. And ultimately it should be his choice. He had very little control over the whole situation as it was, taking away even more wouldn't help matters.
Still, she longed for another opinion and for that reason she asked Cho and Jane to leave the car ahead of her and wait outside when they'd reached their destination, so she could make a phone call in private. "I'll go and find her grave anyway, no matter what he says," Patrick told her right before closing the car door with a look that shouted determination. And for the millionth time since she first met him she cursed his uncanny ability to read her like that.
Finding her clean phone and Jonathan Jane's phone number in her old one gave her the time to clear the slight irritation from her mind before making the call. The retired psychiatrist answered the phone almost at once. After they'd exchanged a few sentences about the security guards outside the Jane residence, she got straight to the point and gave Patrick's grandfather a summary of the last two days' events and revelations, ending with the situation she was presently confronted with and her deep insecurities about how to proceed.
"I really don't know what to do. There's just so much one person can take and I've a feeling that Patrick's really close to his breaking point. He was extremely out of it already yesterday and it wasn't easy to get him back on track. But with all this news and the need for all of us to stick together with virtually no breathing room – I'm afraid he won't be able to cope," she explained anxiously.
Jonathan had listened without interrupting her, though all the news he'd received was shocking, if not disturbing. He was deeply worried about his grandchild (and the safety of the rest of the family and Patrick's teammates), but he tried to keep a clear head. "Frankly, Teresa, I'm a bit stumped as well right now. And even though I'm a psychiatrist, this is so out of the norm, it's hard to give some textbook answer."
"I understand," she replied somewhat deflated.
But the old man wasn't finished with his advice. "Unfortunately, I don't know my grandson that well either, but one thing I'm sure of is that he is fiercely independent and headstrong. You'll have to let him make his own decisions and be supportive. Otherwise he'll only have the added stress of your opposition on top of everything. That wouldn't be helpful, just hurt him even more."
She sighed and cast a short glance out of the window at her lover, who seemed to be kicking his heels or rather rocking on them as he eyed the entrance to the cemetery longingly.
"Yes, I know it's hard, but what he needs the most right now is a sense of control over the situation and the assurance that you'll back him unconditionally, even if it might be against your better judgment," Jonathan explained. "I'm not meaning to say that you should give him carte blanche for the whole Red John thing of course, don't get me wrong. I'm talking about the personal component of it. Let him find his mother's grave. It might even do him some good, give him closure. But even should it only reopen or deepen old wounds, it'll at least have been based on his own decision and that might just make the whole difference. That's all the advice I'm able to provide right now, I'm sorry."
"No, it's fine, Jonathan. It's actually been a confirmation of my own gut instinct," Lisbon replied. "It makes me feel a lot better about going with it. Thanks."
"You're very welcome, my dear. Give Patrick my best, will you? From his grandma also. And we wouldn't mind being kept in the loop about everything. I know you're probably not at liberty to divulge more than you already have, but I'm glad you've told me as much. We've been very worried ever since Patrick called yesterday," the old man said.
They concluded the call after that and Lisbon finally left the car. "Let's go," she told her two waiting companions and intertwined her left hand with Jane's right.
Patrick studied her for a moment with raised brows and announced, "Guess you got the go-ahead from Jonathan then."
"He sends his love," she answered with a straight face. Contradicting him would be useless anyway and giving in to annoyance wasn't an option either. She wanted to be supportive after all, not rise to one of his baits. She knew he was challenging her, probably to find out how far her back up for his wishes really reached. Obviously he wasn't sure about her real feelings on the matter and was probing.
Her reaction seemed to reassure him, if the small smile playing on his lips was any indication, and he started to drag her along in the direction of the entrance to the cemetery. She had to smile a little at his eagerness and she was glad his mood didn't seem too gloomy. "Hold you horses, Jane. I'd like for my arm to stay attached to the rest of my body," she teased him.
"I'd like for it to stay attached to me, first and foremost," he bantered back, and gave it another slightly firmer pull, which catapulted her into his waiting arms. After searching for and getting her wordless permission to proceed, he hugged her and initiated a deep kiss right outside of the entrance.
He released her a minute later and whispered a tender "Thank you" in her ear, before he grabbed her hand so they could enter the graveyard together. Cho had been waiting patiently and with an indulgent smile. Though his expression might not show it, he felt a profound sense of sympathy for the other man. He couldn't imagine what it would've done to him if suddenly everything he'd thought to know about himself had been turned upside down. That a notorious serial killer was also a particularly morbid part of that absurd mix was just the icing on the cake.
With the help of the map it took them only five minutes to find the right grave. It was covered with several bouquets in different states of withering, all consisting of blood red flowers. The headstone had obviously been added many years after the burial because there could be no doubt who'd chosen it. It was made of a reddish stone, granite, Jane presumed. Into the topmost part of it the heads of a lamb and a tiger facing each other had been cut. In addition to her name and her dates of birth and death a verse had been engraved as well, which the consultant could identify at once:
And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
I can lie down and sleep,
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee, and weep.
For, wash'd in life's river,
My bright mane for ever
Shall shine like the gold
As I guard o'er the fold.
.
"Guess the bastard's only ever read one author," Cho said quietly, his face showing disgust.
"So it's another Blake then?" Lisbon inquired carefully so she wouldn't disturb the deep contemplation of her lover, and her second on command nodded.
Jane took in the grave site with his keen observation skills, committing every little detail to his memory palace. He didn't utter a word, but silent tears were leaving tracks on his cheeks. Intellectually he knew of course, that nothing of his mother was actually here, but seeing her grave somehow made the whole situation eerily real. And the tombstone made it undeniably clear that the man who'd killed his wife and child was not only his mother's half-brother, but for all intents and purposes his own uncle.
It's not that he had a particular pronounced sense of family, at least not of the biological kind. His childhood hadn't especially endeared him to the idea of your relatives being your most important back up system. He'd always preferred to build his own family consisting of fellow carnies like Pete and Berta Turner or later his friend Andy. But they had still basically only known part of him, because he'd learned from a very early age to hide and guard his true feelings. The truth of the matter was that he'd never felt comfortable enough around anyone from the carnie world to shed his masks completely.
That had changed the moment he'd met Angela and fallen in love with her. They'd merely been a couple for a few months before they'd made the momentous decision to leave the circuit and build a life together. From that point on she'd been his only true family and the whole concept had gotten a totally new meaning for him. She was the only person he'd truly and honestly cared about until Charlotte became a part of his family as well. And his wife and child had also been the only ones who'd gotten to see the completely undisguised Patrick Jane, the man behind the conman. And they'd still loved and accepted him - both the man and the conman. This feeling of unconditional affection had been his idea of what a family should be like ever since, but he'd been convinced until very recently that he'd never experience something like that ever again and that he didn't deserve it either, and never had.
Teresa Lisbon had taught him the error of his beliefs. At first it had been in a platonic way. She'd not only accepted him as her consultant, no, she'd done all in her power to make him part of the team.
It hadn't been easy. With all his tricks and deceptions, treating Rigsby and Cho practically like marks, with his erratic behavior, and his reckless and often dangerous schemes he'd alienated the other agents time and again. And still their boss always had his back anyway, had all but forced the others into accepting him in spite of it all - not at all times successfully.
Dynamics had changed when Van Pelt joined them. She became his second defender, because she was a sucker for his tragic past and because she had a big heart and a very soft spot in it for him. Furthermore, she was certain he could be redeemed if only the circumstances were right. And so she'd made it her mission to try and make it so. If he had to describe his relationship with her, he'd say she was like a younger, but very bossy sister. He could tease her and squabble with her, and even make her genuinely mad at him, but she'd still defend his behavior against others, even Cho and Rigs.
The two women and their relentless attempts to integrate him into the team had proven effective in the end. The two male agents had started to make a greater effort to include him, had asked him to join them outside of work for a drink and such on occasion. He'd tried to resist at first, afraid to get too attached. He'd been convinced that he didn't deserve any kind of friendship and that his only focus should be on his quest.
But over the years things had changed without him really noticing it. He'd become deeply attached anyway. First, there had been some cases other than Red John that he had somehow allowed to touch him on a personal level. Then and in a much stronger way the same had happened with the people he worked with on a daily basis.
As a consequence he'd started to show his affection for them more and more. Not openly of course, but very subtly, so as not to alert them of the fact. For instance, he'd refrained from targeting Rigsby with his tricks once in a while or had covertly left small pick-me-ups for his colleagues when he knew they needed it, and he'd toned down the acerbic remarks against his teammates.
He'd first realized how important they really were to him when Cho's best friend from his gang days had been murdered. He'd observed his colleague and had noticed how deeply distressed he had been, even though he'd pretended to be totally unaffected. If there was something Jane knew exhaustively it was what regret felt like and he'd felt a strong urge to prevent his teammate from living through it. That's why he'd forced Cho to investigate the crime and get to the bottom of things, so he didn't have to wake up one day and be tormented with what-ifs.
Afterwards he'd admitted to himself for the first time that the other man was an important part of his life, like family. It had been a real eye-opener. From that moment on he'd been unable to keep up his pretense of being only with them for the Red John case. Yes, he'd tried to go back to his way of acting aloof on several occasions, but it had been exactly BECAUSE he saw them as family. He'd done it for the sole purpose of protecting them.
Until recently he'd been blind to the fact that they actually returned his genuine feelings of affection. So convinced that no one in their right mind could possible like him, he – the master of perception – hadn't seen that what he'd assumed to be acts of kindness only granted to him because they were such good people, were in reality expressions of true friendship or even family ties. And because he hadn't been able to realize this, he'd never allowed himself to show his own feelings openly, too afraid of rejection, of appearing vulnerable. Better to wear a mask of indifference and stay detached before you got hurt.
It had been Teresa Lisbon once again, who'd made him see the light. The very fact that someone like her could love him, really love him with no strings attached, had brought home the truth that he was actually lovable. And if she could have true feelings for him, others might too. In return he loved her with the same fierce intensity he'd felt for Angela. And he'd opened his heart enough to show her that as well.
That had been the start, and now he'd begun to allow himself to express his honest affection towards others, mainly the team, too, without hiding behind clandestine actions.
Meeting his childhood friend again had also helped. Andy had been ecstatic to have HIM of all people back in his life. This had really astonished him.
Now people who'd only just met him considered him family as well and were genuinely interested to establish a deeper relationship with him. It was really mind-boggling and had turned his perception of himself upside down. Slowly the conviction had ripened that maybe there wasn't something fundamentally wrong and rotten with him, that he wasn't condemned to always be on the outside looking in when he saw happy people and families.
All these positive thoughts ran through his mind while he stood in front of his mother's grave for the first time in his life. But the sight of this very place combined with the news he'd learned today tainted the more favorable image he'd only recently managed to create of himself, gave it a bitter taste, which, unfortunately, was all too familiar. It was the same acerbic tang that had poisoned his mind for most of his life. The usual sense of deep shame, guilt, and unworthiness threatened to overwhelm him once again. With tears running down his face he wished for the umpteenth time that he could be a better man.
TBC
Reviews are like phone calls to Jonathan Jane: all around pleasant and very reassuring...
