Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with the Mentalist and make no money from fanfiction.
With thanks to Sue Shay and Cumberland River Relic for their advice, friendship and support. In particular, thank you to CRR for his feedback on this chapter.
17th May, 2014
Dear Diary,
It's six months now since I left California. Sometimes it seems like much longer. The days here are restful and flow together without my consciously noticing the passing of time. It feels like I've been here forever.
Sometimes I try to remember. To relive my last showdown with McAllister. Feel how the sweat-soaked skin of his neck yielded to my pressure. See the life draining from those watery blue eyes. But it's all unreal now. Like a movie scene or something from an old fable.
What I have done is to make peace with my girls. Every morning now, when I first awake, I run through three good memories of each of them. Angie and Lottie. I recall their laughter and the way that we'd dance. The softness of baby skin and the silken strands of my wife's hair. More than anything, I remember tenderness. What it was like to love and to be loved.
Sometimes it makes me sad. Sure it does. It's not unheard of for me to end up snivelling, curled up on my mattress, or rocking myself back and forth as I watch the tide. But the emotions are easier now. The sadness is mixed with happiness. The crushing weight is gone.
I may not be a believer in any kind of afterlife, but somehow, I know that they are both still with me. They're a part of me. Something that I cannot let go of or lose. And that gives me comfort.
And in the last few days especially, I find myself thinking about Lisbon.
Teresa is the best friend that I've ever had. For almost 11 years, she was by my side every day. She was the one person, other than Angie, who I could be honest with. Who accepted me for who I am, arrogance and obsessions notwithstanding.
And what did I leave her with? Nothing. Complete wreckage.
How is the workaholic going to cope when she has no job? No purpose? No status?
I don't doubt that Lisbon is going through hell right now. Oh, she's a tough cookie, and a survivor. But I walked away and left her at a time when she would never have needed me more. And that's something I feel terrible about.
I had no choice. I had to track down and kill Red John. And, if I survived, that just left the options of prison, death by Blake Association or exile. I chose the most life-affirming path that I could. There was no option but to leave her behind.
Sometimes I fantasise about contacting Teresa. Sending her a one way aeroplane ticket to Caracas, so we could be together again and free. But that would never happen. My little cop could never stand the insecurity of being a fugitive or the boredom of a life without badge and gun. It would still eat her alive. Just in a different way.
Now that my head has cleared enough, I'm fretting about my angry little princess. I don't even know if she received that last voicemail message that I left for her.
I know Lisbon. And Lisbon being Lisbon, she's going to worry about me. Whether I deserve it or not. And the best thing that I can do for her is to make sure she knows that I'm OK.
Mmm. So what are my options?
Calling her… That isn't going to work. I'll bet a million dollars that Abbott has her phones and e-mail accounts bugged. He isn't the kind of guy to just give in. Underneath that pompous and hard-assed exterior hides a sharp intellect and an implacability worthy of a fighting pit bull.
No, I'd have to find a way to contact her untraceably. And to make sure that nobody can blame her for hearing from me. I can't tell her where I am. Good cop Lisbon would be too torn about hiding a fugitive. Whilst her ability to lie has improved, I'm sure Abbott would still see right through her.
Time to sleep on it, I think.