Author's notes: Thanks as always for those who shared their thoughts, it's great to hear from you. Enjoy (I hope).
Patrick naps on the short plane ride to Santa Monica, catching up on the uncomfortable night in the hospital chair. Lisbon sips a drink and watches him for a while. He'd booked seats on a private plane, pretty plush inside and the only passengers beside a hostess and the pilot. They sit opposite one another. It hadn't taken Patrick long to fall asleep. He's acquired an impressive bruise on the left side of his face that disappears in to his hairline. She knows from her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she took a shower that she has a matching one surrounding her cut, it peeks out under her plaster. They were both very lucky and she says a silent prayer of thanks.
Jane's beginning to stir as the plane begins its decent. He gives a rueful smile.
"Sorry, that was rude of me to leave you alone."
"No problem Patrick."
They collect their belongings and Patrick picks up keys to a rental car he's ordered at the check-in desk. They put their suitcases in the trunk and Patrick hands Teresa the keys.
"Take me home sweet lady."
Teresa rolls her eyes. On the journey they discuss dinner options, they decide on pizza with a promise from Patrick of a meal at his favourite seafood restaurant the following day.
Patrick grows silent as the car travels closer to his family home. He hasn't been back for a while, he would come to fortify himself in his quest for Red John. There were so many times that Red John got the best of him, Jane realises now that he'd become the serial killer's play thing, who he enjoyed torturing psychologically. He would come here beaten down with disappointment and often despair at other lives lost. He only had to stare at the smiley face, fading now, on his own wall, remember the scene that greeted him that night, relive the horror of it and he was ready to resume the fight, certain that he would one day win. With each encounter he learnt something more about the serial killer and he knew that above all his ego would be his downfall. Now he had won, Red John was awaiting trial nothing could save him from the death penalty, evidence was solid and judges and juries didn't like tortures, murders and especially murderers of children and cops and Red John was guilty of them all.
Teresa pulls to a stop in front of his house. He stares at it, not moving from the vehicle, nervous now not sure if it's the right thing to do. He feels Teresa hand cover his own. He turns to her.
"It'll be all right. You can do this."
She knows he's come to say goodbye. He squeezes her hand and nods, then gets out of the car. Taking his keys from his pockets, funny how he always carries them with him, and unlocks the door. The musty smell of non-use hits him as he steps into the room. He opens the windows to let in the fresh air. He turns and looks at the empty space. Images of how it use to look flash before his eyes, bringing with it the stabbing pain it always does, but he notes it's not as intense, he can breathe.
Teresa has wandered in to the kitchen, Jane follows, she's looking out the window at the ocean beyond. She can hear the waves lapping against the pillars of the deck that extends into the water. The kitchen at least gives the illusion of occupancy, it has a toaster on the counter and a kettle on the stove, each layered with dust.
Teresa hasn't looked around the house before, she knows the stairs, the hallway and the room. It's a beautiful house, but she finds it hard to equate it with the Patrick she knows that sleeps in a motel room or more often than not up in the rafters of the CBI on a makeshift bed. A room he seems perfectly at home in. A room that has the bare elements of comfort and belongs to a man without ego or material needs.
This place screams ego, it's been taken back to its bare bones in decoration but the structure of the house is luxurious. She seen the pictures of Jane as he was, she's watched his appearance on the tv show that preceded his family's murder, the shiny suits and sleek appearance, she wonders how people were so gullible that they were taken in by him. He veritably screamed fraud and she's glad she met the Patrick of today because she probably wouldn't have liked the Patrick of his past. But she knows he was just a product of his upbringing, it's what he knew, what he was good at. His love for his family shows to her that underneath the shiny suits lay the Patrick she knows. She turns around to face him.
"This is a beautiful place Patrick."
"Thank you.."
Jane eyes can see Angela and Charlotte at the island, flour everywhere as they make cookies together. Charlotte's inexperience with the mixer had her lifting it out of the bowl before turning it off sending batter everywhere, he smiles at the sight of his two girls with dots of batter all over their faces. He takes Charlotte into his arms and gives her a hug and then lick her entire face as she collapses in giggles. He puts her back down and turns his attention to Angela advancing towards her licking his lips, she backs away shaking her head, protesting. She hits the counter behind her and one large stride has her trapped. She ducks and weaves to avoid him but he takes her face in his hands and licks his lips once more in an exaggerated fashion, Angela's still protesting and making veiled threats of withholding that were innocent to Charlotte's ears but plainly understood by her husband, so in the last moments he changes his intentions to a kiss, as they part Angela declares him a very smart man.
Jane comes out of revelry to find Teresa has left him to his memories, he wipes down the kettle and fills it with water, putting it back on the stove he lights the flame underneath. He walks to the doorway and Teresa is now looking out the window of the living room.
"I'm afraid I only have tea."
She turns.
"That would be lovely."
"Thank you."
Teresa understands and nods.
When the drinks are ready they go out on to the deck, the furniture's been stored undercover. Teresa helped Jane removed it, as it proved tricky with only one hand, and set two chairs for them to sit on. They watch the boats out on the ocean, Jane keeps up small talk to prevent further memories engulfing him. He informs her of the kind of boats they see and facts about each of them. Teresa knows what he's doing and allows him to entertain her with the useless facts of which she has no interest, even when entertainingly packaged. When their stomach informs them it's time to eat, and the air becomes cooler, they take their empty cups inside.
"Let's go out for dinner instead of the Pizza, I need to get some supplies in anyway. There's a wonderful seafood place that always has a table for me after I told the owner find money his father had hidden away as he didn't trust banks."
"Back in your psychic days?"
Jane nods.
"Declaring yourself a fraud didn't upset the guy?"
"I found him five hundred thousand dollars, he doesn't care if I was a fraud or not."
Jane takes out his phone and makes a reservation.