#mentalist

This case had been hell, worse than hell. All cases connected to Red John were. Jane was being strung along like a puppet in a sick, twisted game that Red John controlled. Every time Jane thought he was close to finding out anything about him, he would be met with a dead end after dead end. 

You could physically see the toll it was taking on the poor man. Jane’s eyes clouded and lost in his ever racing thoughts. His body sagged as he walked, feet dragging against the ground with every step he took. You were sure he hadn’t slept and god you were even sure he had eaten or anything of the sort for days. Jane was consumed with Red John. 

Another wild goose chase was resolved for the night. If resolved meant a dead woman and that damned bloody smile painted up on a wall. Red John had taunted Jane and given him a riddle that led him to some random warehouse he was supposed to be at waiting for Jane. Of course, that wasn’t the case. Instead, a dead body was lying in its own blood, waiting for the CBI to find it. 

Lisbon had called off her team. Jane was too exhausted to do anything useful and the team as a whole needed a break. They tasked you with taking care of Jane, considering your relationship with him. It wasn’t a romantic relationship per se, but the two of you were fond of each other and you liked to think it could lead to something more.

The two of you flirted and acted like a couple without the stuff that actually made you a couple of course. But you were there for Jane and he was there for you in a way no one else was. So of course you were there for him now. 

The car ride was mostly silent. Jane wasn’t talking at all, too caught up in his own thoughts you weren’t even sure he knew where he was and what was going on. You were told to take him back to his house but you weren’t sure that was the best place for him to be right now.

You had been there, seen what a hollow and sad place it was. An empty vessel of what it used to be. Jane couldn’t be there right now, couldn’t see the bloody smile he still had yet to clean. 

So instead, you made the executive decision to take him to your place for at least a little while until the adrenaline and shock wore off. You had asked Jane if it was ok he was getting taken to your apartment. To which he just responded with a nod and you weren’t sure he even knew what he was agreeing to, but you kept heading there anyway.

A part of you was nervous, this was a step you and he hadn’t taken before and you were honestly a little giddy at the idea of Jane being in your apartment. Though the circumstances weren’t ideal. But Jane needed you and you were more than happy to be there for him like you always were. 

Jane had gotten knocked up a little bit like he always did when the case involved Red John. He was being reckless, letting himself talk freely and act however he wanted, which angered people and got himself hit. He really had to stop letting that happen. It was ruining his pretty face. Your car pulled into the parking lot for your apartment building at the early early time of two in the morning. Your poor neighbors were probably going to complain later on about the noise, but you were too tired to care. 

“Jane?” You asked the man sitting next to you once you found a parking spot. Jane didn’t move. You softened your tone and reached over to put a gentle hand onto your friend’s shoulder. 

“Patrick? We’re here.” The consultant snapped out of his trance for a moment to look over at you. You could see the sadness welling up in his eyes, it was paired with a raging fiery anger that you knew all too well. It was the look he always got when Red John slipped through his fingers all over again.

“I’m sorry, Patrick, but we’re gonna have to get inside now.” The man nodded and undid his seatbelt as you turned the car off and got out of the vehicle yourself. The walk to your apartment wasn’t anything to take note of. You tried to be quite the best you could, but neither of you were talking anyway so it wasn’t too hard. You fumbled with your keys for a moment, the fatigue slowing getting to you as well, but you managed to make it in. 

“Well welcome to my humble abode.” You said with a care free tone, trying to lighten the mood as much as possible before getting to taking care of Jane. You walked to your kitchen, the room close to the front door. Your purse makes a soft thump when you toss it haspazerdly onto the counter along with your keys. You turn to look at Jane as he wandered in himself. He seemed to be getting back to himself as he looked around the apartment taking it all in. 

“I can make something to eat and then look at fixing up your poor nose.” You say gently while Jane makes his way over to you and motions towards a seat to which you nod your head and he sits down slowly. 

“I don’t need any food.” Janes voice comes out scratchy and you can tell he’s trying to hold back every emotion waiting to pour out of him. 

“Yes Patrick you do. When was the last time you ate?” You ask a bit too harshly so you make a mental note to watch your tone. 

“I don’t have an appetite.” Jane responds simply but you dont care, you make a move to your cabinets to look and see what you’ve got to work with.

“I’m going to make some soup for me and I might accidentally make too much and you’ll just have to help me out,” You joke but you hope Jane will eat some later anyway. Jane doesn’t say anything though he just watches as you open the can and pour it’s contents into a pot. The exhausted consultant can feel his eyes well up with the tears hes been choking back this entire night.

“Thank you Y/n.” Janes words came out more as a sob than anything else. There had been a select few times you had seen Jane cry but nothing like this. He was sobbing, you turn around to see the emotion flowing out of him in the form of tears. You rush over to him quickly forgetting about the soup on the stove to give your full attention to you poor friend. 

Janes hands reach out to you and through tear filled eyes you can see whats he’s asking for. You reach out for him as well and when you get to him he grabs you in his arms tightly. The sobs wrack Jane’s entire body making him shake uncontrollably. You slowly stand him up and lead him to your couch where the two of you sit wrapped up together in a more comfortable hug. 

“Y/n he was there he was right there and-” Jane tries to speak but it’s all too much and he looses the words right after they leave his mouth. You shush him softly. 

“You don’t gotta say anything, just let it out, it’ll be ok,” Your voice is soft and gentle as you squeeze him in a comforting tightness. 

“I’m here Patrick.” Jane stops trying to talk all together at your words just letting the pain seep away through every tear. 

The two of you couldv’e been sitting there together for years and you wouldn’t even know or care. Jane held you tightly until he was either done crying or was just too tired to carry on. When the crying finally stopped Jane loosened his grip and sat back a little bit, enough to look at you. 

“You’re beautiful y/n,” Jane says suddenly and fondly. “Truly you are.” The sudden shift surprises you but his words make you blush none the less. Janes eyes still wet with tears admire your face lit up from the moonlight seeping through your windows. 

“Oh, well thank you Patrick.” Bashfully you rub the back of your neck while Jane shifts to let his hands hold yours instead of being wrapped around you. 

“Are you blushing at that?” Jane asks and you see a tired smile slowly tug at his lips. “That’s adorable.” His voice is airy and sounds like he doesn’t even really know what he’s saying but means it nonetheless. 

Janes words only fluster you more but you keep your cool, the man has done his fair share of flirting with you before. This is nothing new. The way he says it though, and the situation itself makes you almost believe what he’s saying is how he really feels.

Your thoughts are cut off when he brings one of your hands to his face. You watch as he kisses each of your knuckles slowly and carefully before turning you hand around to kiss at your palm. Jane guides your hand to his cheek as his blue eyes find yours. 

Jane’s gaze is intense like a burning fire that is ready to consume you whole. That fire looks down towards your lips and back to your eyes in a passion you are scared to match. 

Janes body shifted, his hand tightened it’s grip around yours and he slowly began pulling you towards him. That passion you were scared of was getting closer and closer. Janes face was inches from yours, every breath mixed with yours in an intimacy you weren’t sure you were up for. Normally this would be your dream but was Jane even in the right head space for this, was now a good time or would it just be something to regret tomorrow?

Without thinking you sprung to your feet, “Oh no I forgot about the, um soup yeah right. Well uh I’ll go get that ready and you can go, you can go get the first aid kit yeah,” 

You desperately attempted to ground yourself and think of anything you could that might make the situation any less awkward than you were making it.

“Of course you wouldn’t know where it is so you can go check on the soup and I’ll get that, right I’ll go do that.” Your words were jumbled and didn’t make all that much sense but you didn’t wait to see the look on Janes face or even if he made a move to go check on the soup. Your feet were quick and steady as you rushed to your bathroom. The cool air and harsh lights hit you like a truck that you didn’t see coming. 

Your chest pounded with every harsh intake of cold air that filled your lungs a little too much. What were you doing? Leaving Jane like that when he was about to kiss you. He was about to kiss you right? Or maybe coming in for another hug? But he wasn’t thinking straight anyway, he couldn’t be. Finally looking up at yourself in the mirror you saw the mess you were. Days on end of strenuous work were taking their terrible tole on you. 

Splashing cold water on your face to try and get yourself to lock back in on the task at hand and actually look for the first aid kit you came into your bathroom for in the first place. You could hear a faint sound of cupboards opening and closing coming from your kitchen, closely followed by the sound of the sink turning on and off. 

You took this as your sign to go see what Jane was up too, you took another deep breath. This time the air didn’t feel suffocating and you were starting to feel more like the put together CBI agent you were. All of that came crumbling down when you made it to you kitchen to see Jane putting a tea pot onto you stove next to a pot of soup. He had taken off his suit jacket and blazer which left him in a tucked in button up and dress pants.

Thoughts of what it’d be like to see this every day flooded your mind before you could stop them, this paired with the almost kiss from before was too much to bare. Jane was slowly killing you, you just knew it. 

“I found your tea supply, though it was very heavily lacking Y/n, I must say I’m disappointed.” Jane shook his head in mock disappointment which mae you roll your eyes at his antics. 

“I wasn’t expecting to have any tea conisurs over as guests or I would’ve stocked up.” You fire back as you set the first aid kit onto the kitchen counter. Jane stirred the soup with a spoon and fiddled with the knob until it was at a temperature he approved of. 

“You think you’ve got enough time before your tea’s ready for you to visit the doctor?” You joke with him teasingly to which he smiles and leaves his post by the stove to walk over to a chair next to where you are standing and sit down. 

“I always have time for you Y/n,” Patrick says sweetly which makes your stomach flutter and your face flush in a way you were hoping wouldn’t be seen in the dark lighting. To distract yourself you open up the first aid kit, Jane’s injuries weren’t anything serious. 

He got hit by some guy he thought mightve been Red John but was really just a random man in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was some bruising near his eye and his nose didn’t look broken but was definitively bleeding earlier and needed to be patched up. 

“Alright no whining or anything ok?” You ask Jane as you turn his direction to find him already looking at you. The way the two of you were positioned had him in a chair sitting and you standing between his legs working on fixing his poor face. The whole situation was intimate in a whole new way. Forcing yourself to focus, you cleaned his face up carefully and as best you could. 

The whole time you were grabbing bandages and wiping up his wounds Jane’s eyes never left your face. Whether he was looking at your eyes or your lips he was honed in on everything you. When you first started the whole ‘patching up’ thing Jane was slowly - and with much attention on how you were reacting – put a hand on your waist. You didn’t mention it and did your best to ignore it. But the closes, the romantic ness of it all was slowly getting to you. As much as you wanted it, you couldn’t let yourself go there. 

“Patrick,” You mumble while concentrated on applying a bandage to a scrap above his eye. 

“Yes y/n?” Jane mutters in that same tone you used. 

“Your’re staring,” You inform him as if he didn’t know what he was doing. 

“Am I?” Jane asks sincerely, to which you roll your eyes. 

Your voice is stern in a over dramatized sort of way, “Very much so.”

Jane sighs in a dreamy sort of way. “It’s hard not to with how pretty you are,” that makes you blush but it’s not the first time Jane has said something like that. Not even the first time tonight. So you keep your cool. That cool facade was slowly fading as that hand on your waist began rubbing the skin under it’s fingers. It was joined by another large hand meeting your opposite and lonely hip. 

“Really y/n you’re gorgeous, I know you don’t believe it but I’m telling the truth.” Jane flatters you, maybe too much, but the way he was looking at you right now with that same fiery look back in his pretty blue eyes you really did believe him this time. 

“Thank you Patrick,” You say and hope he knows you are being genuine. Patrick took to silence as you finished up with his face. There wasn’t too mutch work to be done so after a thorough examination of his face you catch yourself finding new little details about him you had never noticed before. 

Everything about the man before you was beautiful. Jane’s curly, golden, locks that still looked perfect even after a night like this. His rosy pink lips that were always fixed in a permanent grin that annoyed you but damn did it fit Jane’s face perfectly. The curvature of his nose that has been molded from various breakages and dislocations still was pretty in its own disoriented way. 

And finally the bright blue eyes that had been taunting you the whole night. Jane’s gaze drifted from your lips up to meet your eyes and it was then when you realized what you had been doing. 

“Now who’s staring?” Jane asked and you knew he was starting to feel better because his teasing tone was making it’s way back into every word he spoke. Your hands held Janes face tenderly at his cheeks, your fingers unconsciously twirled a little bit of his hair. 

“Am I?” You ask him, mocking what he said before. That made Jane chuckle a little bit and that damn smile that tugged at his lips made your heart ache a little.

“Very much so,” Jane responded, now light heartedly mocking you. Without realizing it the two of you were slowly leaning towards each other in a slow and caseous pace. You wanted to think that this would be ok and Jane really did feel this way about you, it wasn’t the adrenaline or his mind being clouded. But it was him. Him wanting to kiss and hug and be with you. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as your head tilted to the side a little to fit with Jane like a perfect puzzle finally being completed. Your gentle hold on his face tightened as if to ground yourself in the fact he was real and all of this was real. The tightened grip on your wait helped ground you in that as well. Jane held you close and in a way that made your heart stutter the same way your breath did the closer and closer Janes lips got to yours. 

Suddenly you became very aware of a deafeningly loud whistling screech coming from your stove. Of course, Janes tea. Janes tea and your soup were left unattended while you and Jane played hook up. Abruptly getting taken out of the moment your head wiped to the side so see the smoke rushing out of your old tea kettle Jane had put on the stove earlier. 

You hurriedly let go of jane and rushed over to the stove, when you left the man to sit by himself you felt him try and keep you there with his hold on your waist. And maybe, just maybe, you heard him let out a little groan followed by a “Dammit”. Your hands moved quick across the stove to take the kettle and pot away from their respective burners in time for them both to not explode. 

“Sorry Patrick the soup is gonna have to cool down for a while but I can get cups for the tea and-” You spoke quickly and multitasked by reaching for you cup cabinet that held your mugs. Jane cut you off though by putting a hand on your waist and pushing you in a way that had you turning around to face him. 

“You have to know what you’re doing to me y/n.” Jane looked over your body and back to your face, his eyes downcast and it seemed like he was speaking more rhetorically than anything. You felt him motion for you to move away from the stove and too a safer part of your counter to lean upon. 

“What do you mean?” Your tone is innocent and it just makes Patrick sigh in a tired sort of way. The consultants head comes down to rest on your shoulder.

“You must know about the affect you have on me, every day it’s like you cast a spell on me or something.” Janes talking to himself mostly and like hes thinking aloud. His face is tucked away into your shoulder as he hesitates for a moment. 

“You’d tell me if you were a witch, right?” Janes asks you sincerely which makes you chuckle a bit.

“Yes Patrick I would.” You tell him with the same dramatic sincerity he had when asking the question in the first place. You hear him sigh again. 

“I love when you say my name,” he pauses, “y/n.” Jane’s getting that dreamy tone back in his voice which makes you think. Everything he had been saying. About the affect you have on him and how you say his name. It’s almost like he’s been crushing on you or something. The idea makes your chest feel fuzzy and your heart beat a little faster. 

Jane lifts his head to look at you, really look at you. The eye contact makes you a little nervous but you hold it anyway. 

“Y/n?” Patrick asks, his gaze not leaving yours. 

“Yes?” You respond.

“May I kiss you,” The man pauses, “please?” You feel every reason you had to say ‘no’ leave your body at once at that soft gentle ‘please’. You nod your head before you can even think, it wouldn’t have made any difference anyway this is what you wanted. What you needed. For what felt like forever. 

“Yes Pat-” You can’t even get the word out before Jane is crashing into with a hungry passion that consumes you whole, and you let it. Suddenly everything is Jane. You can smell him, taste him, your eyes are closed but all you can see are thoughts of him. Everything is Jane and you can’t get enough. 

Janes needy but steady hands grab your waist tightly as you reach up to hold his face in your palms just to get that much more of him. Your back arches against him as your hands find their way from his face to his hair that is much easier to cling to. The kiss is burning with a fiery passion you’ve been avoiding all night but you were finally getting a taste of it and you couldn’t get enough. The rhythm of everything was uneven and rough but neither of you cared. It was a perfect collision of you and Jane and god did you love it. 

A dull tingle in your lungs reminded you that the kiss couldn’t last forever and eventually you’d have to part ways if even for a second. When you reluctantly pulled away when the lack of oxygen was too much there jane was again, following your lips as if he was a starving man that only need you. You were inclined to let Jane devour you right then but you turned your face to the side instead making him peck your cheek. 

Both you and Jane were panting, chests rising and falling in the same shared rhythm. You were close enough to him that you shared the same air, now even that was Jane and you didn’t mind at all. The two of you didn’t say anything for a while, basking in the calm silence together. Until Jane broke that calm.

“You know I’ve wanted to do that for quite some time now.” He says matter a factly. To which you just chuckle and blush at his confession.

“Really?” You ask, trying to mask the giddy tone infecting your voice.

“Really.” Jane confirms. And then it’s just the two of you again. In a comfortable unmoving silence. You rest your back against your counter top and were brought back to where you were and what the situation was. After a minute of thinking you speak up.

“Patrick?” You ask the man still holding you like you were his life line. He hums in acknowledgement. You hesitate before taking a deep breathe and continuing.

“What does this all,” You pause, “mean to you?” The question sounds dumb the second it is out in the open but you know Jane knows what you’re trying to say and is willing to hear you out. The silence that follows your question is slowly sucking your soul away but you wait for Jane to respond none the less.

“Ever since my wife and daughter were murdered I haven’t really felt love like that again.” Jane started then stopped. You didn’t say anything, instead gave him time to think. 

“Its lonely but I let this life of solitude and endless crime solving in the pursuit of revenge consume me,” Jane pauses, “And I try to let that be all I am but ever since you came along everything has been different. I’ve been different.” The man in front of you was on an endless train of thought you were letting him get it all out as you listened.

“My life is more than what it was before. I’m happier and better and y/n I,” Jane stops himself not letting him say what he’s been trying to say to you for the longest time.

“Y/n I love you and it scares me. The woman I love was killed because of me, and with that monster still out there how can I let myself love someone else?” The confession shakes you to your core. Jane had just confessed he loved you, like really loved you. His eyes were downcast but you saw the sadness filling back into them with every word he spoke. Your hand reached up to hold his face and guide it to look at you. 

“Oh Patrick,” You sigh, “it scares me too. But you’re a different man than before. You’ve grown and changed and are a better man who will catch that monster one day. But why do that alone?” You try to find the best words that will help comfort him and when thinking doesn’t help you choose to just speak from the heart.

“I love you Patrick and I am here for you and I want to help you find that monster so you can live and love freely without fear. I want to be with you for who you are and what you do, and that doesn’t scare me at all.” Your confession makes Jane smile, it’s a sad tired smile that holds hope in it. 

“Thank you y/n, for everything. I wouldn’t be here without you.” Jane is getting that dreamy look in his eyes as he admire everything that is you. 

“Of course,” You respond with a calm, gentle smile. 

The two of you stand together in silence just taking in all that had happened that night and what it meant for your future. Patrick began to move from his position to the cabinet you were reaching for for mugs before the whole kiss and confession thing happened.

“What’re you doing?” You asked confused. Jane looks at you with the same expression. 

“The tea is at perfect temperature, You think I was going to let this go to waste?” Jane grabs two random mugs and the still semi warm kettle. He begins pouring the tea into each mug with a practiced pression . You just role your eyes and shake your head at Janes antics that you were used to by now. 

Patrick?” You call to him as makes his way over to your couch with the two mugs of tea.

“yeah?” Jane responds. 

“I love you.” You say simply. The words are foreign but feel comfortable finally being able to say them out loud to the man you’ve been wanting to say them to forever.

Your fingers held a small polaroid, its edges worn and a crease running through the center. It never made its way out of that small cellophane slot in your wallet until now.

It was a photo of Jane, his back turned to the camera. He was leaning over a railing of the nearby pier. The sun was setting in the background, although you never paid that too much attention. His white undershirt stretched across his forearms, his blue vest taught against his broad back. He was happy, relaxed. You could tell by his posture, the way his shoulders caved forwards and relaxed. His hands were hanging over the edge of the railing at ease. That day was the first time you had ever seen him truly at peace. 

Your thumb floated across the bottom, under it “First Date” had been written in faded black marker. Ten months had flown by like nothing. 

Your eyes swelled, heat rushing to your cheeks and a lump forming in your throat. Guilt washed over you like a tidal wave. 

5 Days Prior: 3:43PM

 “Patrick? It’s me.” You took in a shaky breath. “You in there?” 

The metal door slid open immediately, revealing Patrick Jane behind it. He beckoned you in with a beaming smile. “Hey, what brings you up here?” His voice was raspy and his hair ruffled. The sun shone through the thin windowpanes and gave him an almost angelic glow. You heard the door slam shut behind you.

The old attic smelled like dust and old paper. Your skin crawled the first few times you walked in, but after months of coming here, and sometimes sleeping here, you’ve grown fond of this makeshift apartment. 

Settling down into the only seat he had, you held your hands together, running a thumb over the many lines of your palm. Your eyes fixated on your moving thumb. A nervous habit, picked up from who knows where. With each line you traced, you found your bravery dwiindling.

Jane sat on his cot, leaning back onto his hands to support himself. His face, as usual, remained calm. Unreadable. 

“I can see that you are…..” He paused as he sat upright, bringing his hands together infront of him. “Upset? Anxious? With me I can tell, and for what I’m sure I can guess. Though I would rather you tell me.”

His head dipped slightly, trying to get your eyes to meet his. 

Your voice came out just barely above a whisper; “Do you trust me?”

Silence hung over you both, chasing any comfort from the room. After a minute, maybe more, you raised your head. Jane’s expression hadn’t changed, but you could tell something was different. The light had passed from his eyes, replaced with something sorrowful. Sun trailed along his jawline, highlighting his cheekbones and revealing the bags under his eyes. 

“Of course I do. What made you think differently?” Jane’s voice was smooth, controlled. After all these years working with him, and months of seeing each other, you could still never read him. You were like an open book to him. Every move, sigh, step; He knew you inside and out. But you? You always felt like you were two steps behind him. 

The courage to speak left you at the door, but you continued anyway, fear seeping its way into your voice. “I was just, uh, wondering. That’s all.” You ran a hand over your face. “I see you with Lisbon working on cases together, on Red John together,” he looked down at his lap, “and it makes me wonder. Makes me wonder why you’ve never let me help you like she has. Like she can.” 

His expression began to falter. Sadness, guilt, a shade of anger crept out and colored his face. A quick look to the wall, a sharp breath out. He stood up, pacing around the room slowly. His hands were clasped behind his back.

“You know why I can’t involve you with Red John.” Jane drew in a measured breath. “I care for you. If you began investigating with me…” He didn’t finish the sentence. Invisible cogs turn in his brain, trying to grasp at a digestible explanation. “I need to keep you separate. Safe. You are already at risk enough working with me, but being with me?” He stops just a few feet away from you, renewing eye contact. “You’re in more danger than I am.”

That confirmation sent a chill down your spine. You’d always known your relationship with Patrick would put a target on your back. Deep down, you knew you both could never be a normal couple until he was caught. But hearing it spoken aloud, it puts your reality into a new, horrifying perspective. 

“I understand, Patrick. I understand the fear you have-”

“No, no you don’t.” His voice was low. You could feel the anger lingering in his tone. His eyes were locked on yours, his arms crossed infront of him. Taking a step forward, he continued. “You will never understand the fear I have. Every single day, I wake up thinking today’s the day he decides to make another move.” He approaches again, anger taking over his tone. “I have lost too much. I’ve chased him for seven years. He has made my life a game, and the people I love pawns.” 

By this point, he was standing right infront of you. You had to lift your head up completely to meet his eyes. 

You’d never seen him like this before. Angry, scared, horrified, you weren’t sure. His eyes were tight, his jaw clenched so hard you thought his teeth would break.

“Patrick, please…” You glance at the wall quickly, afraid to say the wrong thing. “I just want to help you. This case eats away at you every day. You don’t sleep, barely eat. All that I want to do is help you. I know the risks, I know the danger of pursuing Red John.” 

“No -”

“Let me finish, Patrick.”

He concedes, closing his eyes before returning to his spot on his bed. His mouth twitches at the corner for a split second. 

“I know the danger. I see the countless people lost.” You stand up, walking carefully to stand infront of him. You place a gentle hand on his shoulder, tender love laced in every word; “I know what he did to your family. There’s not a day I’m not reminded of the pain he’s caused you. It motivates me more than you know to catch him. But seeing you shut me out, no matter the cause, kills me.” 

He uncrosses his arms, and you slide your hand down to hold his. He avoids eye contact with you no matter how much you move to catch just one second of it.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you. I can’t let you put yourself into harm’s way even more.” He draws in a deep, shaky breath. Patrick’s voice drops to a whisper, “We shouldn’t be seeing each other in the first place, this was- it was a mistake.”

That hits you like a punch to the gut.

“I’m sor- what?” You let go of his hand, stepping backwards. “So- So why did you even-” 

Tears flood your eyes. How could he say something like that? How could he write off your whole relationship so quickly? 

Months - almost a year - of late nights in the bullpen, takeout dinners, shared cups of tea and long drives across California. Nights filled with laughter in the room you both stood in.

Was he right? Was it all just a mistake, a bump in the road? An oversight? A temptation took too far?

“I’m sorry- I- I shouldn’t have said that.” Patrick scrambles to stand, holding a hand out to you. “I meant-“ He grasps you by the shoulder and tries to pull you in, but you shove him off of you. He stumbles and hits the cot, bewildered. 

“How could you say that, Patrick? So what, I’m just some uncalculated mistake? We are a mistake? The past ten months have just been one, unending fucking mistake to you?”

He steadies himself, leaning his body on the cot for support. “No, of course not. I’m sorry.” Patrick’s eyes are wide with fear, his shoulders tense. “Please-” 

“No. You've said enough.” You wipe the few tears that have spilled. Anger is taking over your body, every ounce of tenderness has left your voice. Your hands tremble as heat rises to your cheeks. “After all that we’ve done together, how long we’ve been together, I expected something different. Maybe some trust, or for you to treat me like what I was to you, like a partner.” Patrick gasps, his hands making a last ditch effort to reach for you. He fails.

His face is overtaken with guilt. 

For the first time since you’ve known him, he’s an open book. A book that opened far too late.

You move quickly towards the door, reaching for its handle. You turn to look over your shoulder just as your hand meets the cold metal. Patrick hasn’t moved. His eyes are focused on the floor. 

A mix of sorrow, guilt, anger all swirl in your stomach. 

The metal door screeches open, and slams shut just as quick as you leave. 

That was the last time you’d spoken with Patrick Jane. 

Present Day: 12:58AM

The tears stopped flowing long ago, their tracks drying on your cheeks. 

How could you have left so quickly? Why did he say what he did?

Your body aches for him. For his touch, the smell of his cologne and the tea on his breath when you kiss him. How soft his lips are against yours, or the way he massages your hands after a long day at the computer. 

It couldn’t be that simple, right? So simple to lose someone you once imagined growing old with. 

It cannot be that simple, it won’t be. Not for you and Jane. 

You knew, deep down, he didn’t mean what he said. Patrick Jane was a deeply scared man. What he said was incredibly hurtful, but you knew that at the end of the day, he wanted to protect you. His version of that was to push you away, to distance himself as much as possible. Hell, it worked for a few days.

The past ten months with him were real, passionate. Hopefully, that would be enough to save whatever it was you had left.

Glancing at the clock, you attempt to get off the low-set couch. Your knees almost buckle from being immoble for hours, but you manage to shake the numbness from your limbs. You shove the polaroid into your back pocket.

 Badging out of the CBI headquarters, you step out onto the empty sidewalk. Without thinking, you walk past the parking garage and up the road. 

Before you know it, you’re at the pier. 

A full moon hangs high in the sky, shining down onto the sea infront of you. The water looks black, with bright shimmers of moonlight dancing on its surface. The sky is dotted with bright stars, and you can hear familiar sounds around you; seagulls, airplanes passing overhead, waves crashing against the pier’s wooden supports, your own heartbeat.

Leaning against the wooden railing, you drop your bag next to your feet. 

A light breeze picks up a few strands of your hair, sweeping them across your face. The scent of algae and salt fills your nose. You can practically taste the salt in the air. 

The solitude of the night gives you time to think clearly; something you haven’t had in a very long time. Months, maybe.

You reminisce of time with Patrick. Time in your car listening to soft jazz and staring at the scenic California countryside. Or the long, forever stretching highway.

Patrick would roll down the window and rest his forearm on the edge, hanging his hand out against the wind. His other hand would be on his lap, or yours. You always preferred yours. The sun would shine and dance along his features, highlighting every curve of his handsome face. His hair would turn golden and whip around wildly.

Or, when you both would return to your home after a long case. Patrick would help you undress, taking your clothes and folding them neatly before ushering you into the shower. You would lean with your back against him, letting him hold you underneath the running water. His hands would stay at your hips, or your shoulders where they massaged out tension with ease.

After drying off and dressing for bed, you would lay your head on his chest. Patrick loved to rub your back, his pace growing slower as he drifted off to sleep for the first time in what seemed like days. You drew lazy circles on his chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath your ear.

Those soft moments you missed the most. The quiet, peaceful time with him where words weren’t necessary. All you needed was each other.

For a few moments, your mind is clear. No time is paid to the files on your desk, you and Patrick’s separation.

All you can focus on is the waves beneath you and the- 

“Hello.” 

Startled and spinning on your heels, you make eye contact with him.

At first glance, he looks as he always would. But, with a closer look, it’s clear he’s unraveling. 

His undershirt’s top buttons are undone, his hair is mussed up and his face unshaven. The slight stubble catches your eye. It accents Patrick’s jawline, making him look more mature than he ought to. The most concerning part are his eyes; they’re puffy and red, with bags underneath them worse than you’d ever seen. Has he slept in these past five days? 

His expression is carefully held, a facade you’re not accustomed to seeing anymore. 

“Hi.”

Your voice is soft, not full of surprise but rather concern. Did he follow you here?

Patrick’s eyes take in your figure softly before meeting your eyes again. 

“How have you been?” He says, genuine curiosity behind every word. His hands are pinned behind his back, you can see his internal struggle to keep them there. 

You stay silent. How could he just show up? After almost a week of being absent from the team, abandoning Lisbon, Cho, Van Pelt, Rigsby and yourself. Where has he been all this time? 

You try your hardest to be angry, but his gaze softens you immediately. The sight of him so broken, it dispels any anger you’ve ever had with him. All you want to do is reach out, pull him close and never let go. 

Defeat paints Patrick’s face, “I’ll uh- I’ll leave you be.” He gives you a curt nod before beginning to turn away. 

Panicked, you grab his arm. “Wait.”

His eyes snap to yours. 

“What are you doing here? Wh- Where have you been, Patrick?” 

He turns to you again. Your hand drops back to your side, fingers burning from the contact. It’s been days since you last touched him, all you want to do is run your hands through his soft hair. 

“I saw uh- I saw from my window that you walked out of the CBI, you didn’t- you didn’t drive. I wanted to make sure you were safe, wherever you were going. I didn’t expect you to return to the pier.” He glances at his shoes. “It gave me a bit of hope.” 

He looks at you expectantly, waiting for a response. A response you don’t have. 

Your eyes rake over him. He’s practically bursting at the seams. Sorrow, regret, desperation all color his face and line his voice. Your chest tightens, the familiar feeling of guilt burrowing through your stomach.

After a shaky breath in, you steel yourself against the wooden railing. The wet wood under your palms does little to distract you.

“I understand if you’re done with me. Truly, I do. As much as I hate to be apart from you, I realize now how much I have hurt you. Not just when we last spoke.”

Patrick clears his throat. Anxiety is riddled through his body. His hands begin to tremble at his sides, his shoulders pull back, and he avoids eye contact like it would kill him. “I hid things from you, purposefully excluded you from…” He blinks and rubs his eyes quickly, “...for that I’m sorry.” 

“I still maintain that it is dangerous, us being together and you joining the investigation fully. But-” his voice falters, and you can see Patrick’s eyes begin to go glossy.

Is he crying? 

A sudden, large wave crashes at the pier beneath you. Water curves up along supports and sprays slightly onto your back. All you can focus on, though, is the man infront of you.

“I see now that you are the best decision I’ve ever made in a long, long time. And-” He chokes up, tears finally spilling over and running down his cheeks. “I can’t live in fear for my whole life.”

Patrick lets out a trembling breath.

You take a small step forward and reach your right hand to his cheek. Gently, you wipe his tears away with your thumb. 

This one action breaks Patrick. Every wall he’s put up crumbles before your eyes. A wretched sob escapes his mouth. Patrick’s body crashes against you as his arms wrap around your torso. The air is knocked out of your lungs as you stumble backwards.  

“It’s okay, alright? Listen-” All you can see now is the moon above you. Bright, unwavering with millions of stars surrounding it. 

“I’m so sorry, I- I’m sorry,” the words tumble from his lips in a soft whisper, right into your ear.

You ran your hands up and down his back trying to soothe his cries just a fraction. After a few minutes, it works. His breathing evens out, his grip on you loosens and you can finally breathe properly. You push him off of you just enough to see his face, his eyes.

They were red, but for once they weren’t full of pain. They had a slight lightness to them; You suppose the apology lifted a weight off of his shoulders. 

“I don’t forgive you Patrick,” his posture straightens again, “but, I do understand why you wanted to exclude me from certain things.” Your right hand drifts up to his hair, catching a strand to play with. “You’ve gone through so much, but you have to remember, I’m here with you. Here for you.” 

You stare up at him, trying to figure out the perfect words to say. 

“What you said to me last week… It seriously hurt me.” You pause, letting Patrick absorb every word. “I have done nothing but love you and try to help you. All I’m looking for is trust.” Patrick nods quickly, one of his hands travels its way to your cheek and stays there. 

“I trust you completely. I promise you that.” 

A small smile twitches at the corner of your mouth. 

“Can you promise me something else?”

He nods immediately, eyes begging for you to continue. “Anything.” 

“Can you promise me that- that you won’t say anything like before? That I’m a-” 

Patrick’s lips crash into yours. Now, both of his hands are on your cheeks, holding your face gently as he kisses you. You are surprised at first, but you respond quickly. Your hands grip at his vest, pulling him closer. 

The kiss is full of the pent up love, anger and longing from these long five days. Patrick is giving you everything he has. Your head spins as his hands move from your cheeks to your lower back, holding you tight against him. 

Patrick’s the one to pull away first. 

“Not for one second have I ever, ever regretted this relationship. Being without you feels like suffocating. Everyday, I missed your smile, your laugh, the way you smell… I cannot live one more day without you.”

Your eyes light up as you look at him. A smile spreads across Patrick’s face, brighter than the moon shining above his golden hair. He rests his forehead on yours.

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too, Patrick.” 

The sound of the waves below the pier envelop you again, accompanied by the steady sound of Patrick’s breathing. Salty air mingles with the scent of oak and black tea.

The walk back to the CBI is peaceful. The drive to your home is even more so. No words are exchanged, but after tonight, none need be.