#jess writes

Your head is pounding. Trying to remember the Before of when you were in this room is difficult. Every pathway to any kind of memory slips through your fingers like grains of sand. You have fragments. Laughter. Kind blue-grey eyes. Fiery orange hair. Some kind of mission. They blur, meld together like some kind of dream, of a life before this dark room and the cold air of the night. It's so hard to remember when all you have right now is the rustling of the leaves and the moon.

You shift your weight again. You have no restraints, but the weight of exhaustion are chains enough. The moon's light shines translucent through the curtains. If you could just move them and get your bearings...

You move to get up, face the window - big mistake - you put too much weight on your shoulder and barely manage to stop yourself from falling face-first into the floor. Your world explodes - it's a kaleidoscope of pain that lances up your shoulder and turns every thought in your mind into fog.

You're still reeling until a voice cuts through that haze.

"Hey. If you get in trouble, comm me."

"When am I ever in trouble, Jane?"

Jane. His face flashes behind your closed eyelids. Kind, downturned, blue-grey eyes. Curly blonde hair. Crumpled suit. Warm smile. A gentle touch on your shoulder before you pocketed your walkie-talkie.

You open your eyes - your walkie talkie. He doesn't know where I am.

That lights a small, flickering fire in your chest. You crawl, closer and closer to the window. You raise your hand and grip the bottom of a curtain, wrinkling the floral pattern. Just a bit of -

The curtains part, just slightly. The moon's silvery light - it almost blinds you - peeks through the gap in the curtains and slices through the dusty air. It clears a path, spilling onto cardboard boxes and plastic-covered furniture, leading you right to your walkie-talkie. Something releases in your chest, stokes the flames of hope.

Thrown across the room in a scuffle. You must have sent a message, some kind of cry for help, but you're so alone that you're not sure.

"Oh, never," Jane says. His smile flickers. Serious. "But unexpected occurrences, and all that. You're going in there on your own. Never hurts to be too prepared."

"If there is such a thing." You remember smiling back. "You worried about me, Jane?"

"Eh," he drawls, waves his hand. But stops to look at you - really look at you. "You know that already."

You didn't. You don't think you realized.

The walkie-talkie is so, so slippery in your hands. Fingers trembling, you manage to press down on the button to talk - but your mind is unravelling, the air so cold, only one name manages to tumble out of your shivering lips.

"P-Patrick."

Patrick. Not Jane. Patrick. Like calling him by his name will bring him to you like magic. You're desperate enough to believe it.

You let go of the button - nothing. The sound of the static blends into the faint sound of leaves rustling somewhere outside. The rushing, crackling, silence.

You try again. Fingers slick with blood, you try again. "Patrick," you croak, hoping and hoping that it's him on the other end, that he can hear you at all. Who knows where his walkie talkie even is. It might be tucked at the bottom of a drawer at the CBI, spouting pleas to an empty room as the rest of the team goes looking for you.

They must be looking for you. They have to be. Especially him.

Because the alternative is that they've given up and that can't be true because Patrick Jane would never abandon you.

"Please," you whisper into the reciever. You're not sure if it even picks up. "Patrick-"

There's a breath of your name. Soft, and then louder as it crackles through the speaker of the walkie-talkie.

"...there? Please tell me you're there."

Jane's doesn't often call you by your name, but that doesn't mean he hasn't tried. It doesn't make the way his voice wraps around the syllable of your name sound any less heavenly.

"Say something," he says, his voice low and more serious than you've ever heard before. This is rare, for Jane. "Say something so I know you're alive. I need-"

"I'm here," you groan. You slump onto the floor. There are still needles under your skin and blood pouring out of your shoulder and you feel so fucking cold but you can hear Jane; somehow it all fades into the background. It's just you and him. When you speak again, your voice is thin. "I don't know where I am."

"I know, and I'm coming to get you," Jane replies, without any hesitation. I'm coming to get you. Not we. "Just stay with me."

You lean your head against the wall. Try to breathe. Watch the dust dance in the one beam of moonlight you have. "Okay. I'll try."

"You called me Patrick," Jane says. He's trying to keep his voice light, you can tell. "I'm always trying to get you to call me Patrick. If you wanted to get my attention you didn't have to go and get kidnapped, you know."

"Desperate times... desperate measures," you mumble. The pain really has taken a backseat, the fog rolling in instead. "You called me by my name."

"Desperate times," Jane - no, Patrick - mirrors. His voice is shaking. You want so badly to reach out, to hold him, but he's so far away. Everything is. "Talk to me. Whatever you remember."

It isn't much. "Got shot," you say dully, dimly nothing how the trickle of blood from your shoulder has stopped feeling warm. "Threw me. Hit my head maybe. Hurts. You helped me with that one time."

You can hear the smile in Patrick's voice. "I did. You put your head in my lap."

Impossibly, you manage a chuckle. "Made me do it. Coercion."

"Coercion with good results," he hums.

It's easy to pretend you're back there, on his couch at the CBI, your head in his lap, one of his hands in your hair and the other in yours. Falling asleep looking up at him with his sad, searching blue eyes, that seem to go as deep as the ocean does. Currents carrying you away into deeper and deeper waters. Away from here, and into the deep of his arms instead.

Another call of your name. Sharper this time. Like a plea.

"Talk to me," you hear Jane say. Already so distant, still at the shore. "Don't leave. I'm almost there, don't let go - listen to me, okay? Listen to me."

You're miles away. But Patrick's voice still carries, somehow, over the waves, over the swell of the water that threatens to pull you under.

"I want you to stay with me," he says, his breath quick, voice trembling like you've never heard it before. "Not just awake, but here. With me."

Always, you want to tell him, before you drown under the weight of all your pain.

The distant sound of a car pulling into a driveway. Raised voices. You're sinking.

Until someone drags you out of the water and into the cold night air. Dark hair and green eyes and a soft voice fill your vision, press two fingers to your neck. Lisbon. Her eyes are blown wide, mouth murmuring apologies as she holds you and props you up against the wall.

"In here!" she calls, and you're glad it's her, but where -

Patrick appears from behind her. Falls to his knees beside you. He's shaking and you want to hold him and he's right there - but you can't move. You're still bouyant, floating just on the surface. All you can do is breathe. Ignore the chill creeping onto your skin and seeping into your bones.

"Paramedics are minutes away," Lisbon says, putting a hand on Patrick's shoulder. He's frozen staring at you. "She's going to be okay if you can keep her awake until they get here."

That's when he blinks, as if he's waking up. He creeps closer to you, and suddenly scoops you into his arms. You're getting blood onto his suit. He doesn't seem to care as he wraps his arms around you, letting you lay against his shoulder.

"Hi," Patrick says cooly. Smiles down at you, radiant. As if nothing is wrong. Just like that night in the station. "I missed you."

"Since when?" you croak, and he chuckles, hangs his head low. When he lifts it to look at you, his eyes are brimming with tears.

Patrick doesn't answer the question. Instead he brushes his lips against your forehead as the sirens get closer and closer. "I told you to stay, right?" he whispers, rests his head against your forehead. "I - care about you. I want to keep caring about you. Those good enough reasons to stay?"

It's as good a reason as any, you think, because you care about him too.

—

Linkon's annual Christmas market is buzzing around you, patrons chattering, workers making sales pitches, and portable grills sizzling as you take a nice, big whiff of Sylus's left elbow.

"You'll have to tell me how this one smells, kitten. I can't really get to it myself." He's above you, obediently presenting both of his bare forearms (and now elbows), allowing you to turn and bend them as you please.

You had jostled him into a cap and a mask before dragging him out under the half-lie of craving overpriced eggnog, specifically in the holiday market souvenir mug.

Obviously, your real goal was to gauge the man's reactions to various trinkets and market-vended products that might spark a gift idea—thus stopping at the small-batch perfume stall whose testers you were definitely over-spraying.

Your nose wrinkles at the one on his elbow. Cloyingly sweet. "Way too much vanilla." You move on to his right wrist, back to the first one you tested. Dry and woody and almost perfect. "Can you smell this one again? Do you like it?"

"I like whatever you like," he smiles and uses your grip on his arms to pull you in close. "If you think it smells nice, that's enough for me."

Infuriatingly considerate and equally as unhelpful.

You roll down his sleeves and drop his wrists with a huff. He had been the same at all the other stalls, saying some variation of if that's what you like to everything you presented. You huff again as he laughs and pulls you flush to him, rubbing your arms as he always does when you start getting pissy.

You'll try something else.

—

"Sylus, do you want a pet?"

The man raises his gaze from his files to you, sitting in his bed and scrolling on your phone. You usually try not to bother him while he works unless you're particularly itchy with the lack of attention, especially because it's so rare for him to do so when you're at Onichynus unless they were exceptionally busy. Before you started dating, you had asked him why you never see him working at night if those were his prime hours. He had simply ruffled your hair and said, why would I ever want to do that when I could be spending time with you? in that half-sarcastic, half-seductive tone of his when he wanted to flirt with plausible deniability.

(Now you know that he was being absolutely sincere—that every flowery and cheesy thing he's ever said to you had been, after all.)

He still hasn't answered after a couple of seconds, so you look up, afraid you've been a bother, only to find him tapping his temple in genuine thought.

"I already find myself caring for one bird and a kitten that visits from time to time," he muses. He lowers his hand and smirks. "You'd have to be around more often to take care of it, since I already have my hands so full. If you want to move to the N109 Zone, I'm happy to-"

You should've known he'd bring this up, he's been mentioning it for months. "Sylus, how would I commute to the Hunter's Association?"

"Easy. Quit." He smiles like he's the cat, one that just got the cream.

"I would still want to work!"

"Come work for Onichynus," he drawls as he stands from his desk and stalks towards you on the bed. You clutch your phone to your chest as he lowers himself above you, nose brushing yours and his hand coming to rest at your knee. "Your boss would take such good care of you, sweetie. Paid-for housing, unlimited time off, sponsored company outings…" His hand trails higher to your thigh and his eyes gleam. "Personalized attention and ample development opportunities…" He's whispering against your jaw now, free hand setting your phone aside.

Your breath hitches in that specific way you can't hold back when Sylus gets like this, and he finally leans in and steals it for himself.

Not a pet, then. You'll try again tomorrow.

—

Your motorcycle ride allowed you approximately half an hour of relief before you hit your second obstacle of the day.

Slipping out of Sylus’s bed without waking him up was the first—peacefully detangling yourself from the arms of a man who sleeps with a gun under his pillow was no small feat, after all—but you had clearly underestimated the Universum mall.

A towering fake tree, too many glittery window decals, and oversized ornaments scattered in every shop display. Hordes of holiday shoppers, here with the same motives as you but much less decorum, with their elbows out and bags swinging as you slip and swerve through them.

Just as you push through a particularly unruly gaggle of patrons, your phone lights up to show a "big bad" calling, contact name centered under a flash of white hair and even whiter teeth biting into your stretched cheek. (Your face is mostly cropped out of the picture, but every time you see it you remember how sharp those teeth are.)

He’s the last person you want contacting you right now. Unfortunately, he’s also the one person whose call you’ll always pick up if you can help it.

The latter wins out, and you bring the phone to your ear, cupping your free hand over the speaker to try and filter out some of the background noise.

"… Sylus."

"Sweetie." Over the months, you’ve learned how to pick up on the nuances of his voice, when he lets you hear them. This is his groggy one, vowels melting together and the singular word trailing off to a drawl that sounds almost feline.

"I’m guessing you just woke up?"

"Mmm," You can hear the faint rustling of sheets, can almost see him sitting up, blanket falling down his shoulders and eyelids fighting to stay open. Not being able to see the sight in person almost makes you feel bad for sneaking out—Sylus is particularly cute when he wakes up, after all. "You don’t sound too happy to receive my call. Though I can’t say I was any happier than you are now when I found myself alone in bed."

Oh, he was feeling a little petty this morning. Maybe even pouting. The big bad boss of Onichynus. Either way, he’d need to stew a little longer—you weren’t going back until you found something nice, at the very least.

"Tara texted and wanted to get brunch. You weren’t going to wake up until the afternoon, anyways. Go back to sleep and I’ll be back before you know it, you big grump."

More rustling, louder this time; it seems Sylus put you on speaker. "Hah, nice try. It seems like this little kitten escaped to the mall."

You stop in your tracks to scan the windowed wall next to you, heartbeat skipping in your ribs.

Plink, plink. Beady eyes stare down a titanium beak that taps the other side of the glass, and you can almost hear Mephisto's haughty caw as he rustles his wings in victory.

"One day, I’ll find a way to shut off that damn bird for good."

—

You had come back from your mall expedition exhausted and a holiday bonus poorer, but with a gleaming silver skeleton watch heavy at the bottom of your bag.

Fearing that Sylus had enough watches and that the one you bought was either not to his taste or not expensive enough for it to be worth it, you then panic-ordered a slew of cat plushies, a stupid skull-shaped ice mold for whiskey, a pomegranate reed diffuser, and scoured secondhand sites for the classiest, yet most obnoxious gothic lamp you could find.

Deciding none of it would be enough and having exhausted all your options, your hand was forced to play the most direct approach.

"Sylus," you poke at the pec resting under your ear. "What do you want for Christmas?"

Said pec shakes under you as he laughs into your hair, deep and rumbling, even though there was absolutely nothing funny about your question.

"What makes you think someone like me has any presents left to receive, kitten?"

Fuck. Finding a gift for someone this rich was really a lost cause. As much as his arms around you allow, you slip off of Sylus and turn away to groan in frustration, only to feel him nosing at the back of your neck.

"Besides," he purrs. "You already gave me my most prized possession when we started dating."

Your head whips back to him in indignation, forcing him to withdraw almost whacking into his nose. "That is the most useless answer you could’ve given me."

Unfazed, Sylus nuzzles back into your shoulder and hums. "It’s simply the truth," he murmurs. "It’s a gift to be able to have you like this."

You’re almost swayed by the sappy romance of it all and how his pupils dilate when he pulls away to look at you—until they narrow again in telltale mirth.

"All those other trinkets you bought for me are lovely," he starts. "I particularly like that over-the-top dragon lamp. I think it’ll look nice on my nightstand, don’t you agree, kitten?"

"What the fuck—Sylus, how?"

"With the way you always joke about bombs in your packages," he grumbles, "you didn't think I'd start checking your mail?"

"Sylus, that's an invasion of privacy!"

He sighs and brings a hand to the back of your head, smoothing down your hair as you bristle at the new information. "I know, sweetie. I don't do it commonly, but you just got so many of them at once this time, I had to make sure…" He brings your dazed face to his, landing a peck on your cheek. "Forgive me for ruining the surprise."

You bury your face into his chest in half-surrender. "Are you sure you like them?"

"I like anything you're willing to give me."

"Even the watch?"

His chest rumbles against you for the second time that night. "You should know better than to show your hand so easily, sweetheart." Shit. "I was not aware of a watch."

You couldn't be pressed any closer to him, but you try anyways. "I'm so embarrassed," you whine.

Lips are pressed to the top of your head, soft and sweet. "No need." Rough hands come to your cheeks and guide your eyes to his. "As long as I get to wake up next to you on the day," he continues, "That's more than enough for me."

And when he holds you like this, looks at you like this—you believe him.

Hedy sighed as she pushed the door open to their shabby briefing room, joining both Lucas and Val. She yawned, noting that both looked as though they hadn’t quite woken up with their coffees just yet. 

“Where are Reyes and Kane? Weren’t they the ones that called this meeting?” She grumbled as she placed her own steaming mug of green tea on the table before taking her place next to Val. 

Val threw her hands up in exasperation, “Fucked if I know, those two have been off in their own fucking world for the past couple of weeks now.”

Hedy shot her a look. Now that she’s mentioned it, they have been more secretive than usual, pulling each other aside to talk away from the others. Which they never used to do… 

Lucas perked up, “Do you.. do you think something is going on between them?” 

“Maybe? I don’t know. They’ve always been closer than the rest of us; they used to be on a different team together, so I guess they have history,”  answered Hedy, unsure. 

“Nah, I don’t think it’s that. Kane has been goddamn weird since he came back missing his beard after that mysterious break,” Val countered. 

“Yeah, he’s been super nice to me… which.. is.. weird,” Lucas chimed in hesitantly and then mumbled almost to himself, “I didn’t think he cared much for me before.” 

“He has been less of an asshole,” mused Val, tapping a finger thoughtfully to her lip, “And he’s been letting Reyes take lead. When have we ever known him to do that since Silas disappeared?” 

“And he’s been acting strange in the field too, like with Chadwick in the aqueduct, I swear it was as if he hadn’t touched a gun before, which we know from the past is not the case,” Hedy added, her tea cooling on the table, already forgotten. 

“Have…Have you guys noticed, I don’t know, that his voice seems kinda different too? He doesn’t seem as grouchy gruff like he used to, and he’s been kinda more goofy lately too.” 

“Yeeeah,” Val drew out, “something ain’t right.” 

“You guys don’t think he’s been body snatched, do you?” Whispered Lucas conspiratorially. 

Hedy shook her head, “If he had been, then Reyes wouldn’t be acting the way that he has been. He would be suspicious of him, too.” 

Val frowned, “… unless he’s also been body snatched…” 

“Reyes has been normal, more stressed perhaps with taking lead, but otherwise his usual self,” countered Hedy.

“Yeah, okay,” agreed Val, “by that just means he’s in on whatever’s going on…which is suspicious.” She said thoughtfully before backtracking. “Do we even know why Kane went AWOL in the first place?” 

They all went quiet, each taking a sip of their cooling drinks. None of them seemed to have the slightest idea why- knowing that Kane himself was a hardass at the best of times when it came to being on time for work, let alone having unscheduled time off. 

Hedy focused on Lucas, who had his CRT beside him. “Lucas, could you look up anything that could be connected to that time that he might have been involved in? Or anything about him. I realise I know almost nothing about Kane outside of work.”

“Uhh, I don’t know, Hedy,” Lucas hedged, “What if they come in?” 

Oh come on, they’re already late, and I’ll watch the door if that makes you feel better,” Val groused.

“O-kay,” he relented, pulling his CRT toward him and tapped on the screen. “What should I look for?” 

“Maybe see if there’s anything connecting him to a case or see if something happened in the area, I imagine he lives somewhere near here,” offered Hedy. 

They grew quiet again as Lucas got to work, the tapping of the touch keys the only sound filling the room. His twitching hands stilled after a few moments, his eyes growing wide in shock. 

“What? What is it?” 

“… There’s 2 obituary notices with Kane’s name that happened in the last month.” Lucas cleared his throat, reading from the screen, “Mrs Kane passed away in her sleep and is survived by her two sons, Jordan and Jacob Kane;  and 2 weeks later … Jacob Kane tragically passed away following a car accident and is survived by his twin brother Jordan Kane.”

“Did you just say twin brother?” 

“Yep,”

“Well, that's interesting… Lucas, do you think you can find a picture of them?” 

“Already on it.” 

A couple of minutes passed before he said, “Well, now that’s just freaky,” before he turned the screen around. 

The two faces that looked back at them were younger. Very obviously identical in the way that they had their hair, even as they smiled. Which was odd in of itself, because Kane barely ever smiled. They appeared to be dressed in what looked to be their high school graduation robes, with the only difference between them being that one was clean-shaven, and the other had the signs of a developing beard. 

The reveal hit each of them like a ton of bricks as all the pieces fell into place. 

“Oh. My. God,” murmured Val in shock, saying what they were all thinking, “He’s not our Kane.” 

“We’ve been working with the other twin… Jacob for weeks,” Breathed Hedy. 

“So that means that, our Kane is-” Lucas started to say, his voice trembling.

“-dead.” Finished Val bluntly. 

“Shit.” 

“And Reyes knows.” 

“With the way he’s been acting- the way they both have been acting around each other, there’s no way that he doesn’t know,” said Hedy finally. 

“What do we do now?” Asked Lucas nervously, “pretend we don’t know?” 

“I think for now that’s all that we can do,” replied Hedy with a heavy sigh.

Val shook her head in disagreement, “I don’t like it.” 

“Me either, but clearly there’s a reason if Reyes is on board with it. We just don’t know what it is yet,” said Hedy, suddenly feeling exhausted, “let’s just let it play out for now.” 

“Guys, they’re coming.” Lucas interrupted hurriedly, eying the glass wall of the briefing room. Leaving his CRT on the table, he got up quickly, taking his now-empty mug as a form of diversion while Val quickly closed down the search log on his tablet.

Hedy looked over her shoulder, and sure enough, there was Kane and Reyes, heads together as they walked, clearly discussing something serious with the way Reyes was frowning at Kane’s now notably out-of-character gesticulations. It was so obvious now that they’ve pieced it all together. 

She watched as Lucas and Jacob Kane conversed, vaguely hearing the words “password” and “snacks” while Reyes joined them in the briefing room. She worried her lip. Out of everyone, she knew that Lucas was the weakest link when it came to secrets, and she hoped that he wouldn’t give it away instantly. She breathed a sigh of relief and briefly locked eyes with Val when it looked like all was well as Kane and Lucas rejoined them.

And that was when Reyes handed over the briefing to the new Kane. Well, let's just say that she was surprised to hear that Kane incidentally started talking about acting differently for the sake of improving the team.