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Rolling onto his back Kimball exhaled softly and stared up at the ceiling. It felt as if he had been trying, and failing, to fall asleep for hours. Something that probably wasn't all that far from the truth. Sleep hadn't been easy to come by recently.
Every time he closed his eyes a smiley face created with blood appeared. Over and over chasing away any other thought process. At that point in time he wasn't even sure he could think of anything else. He couldn't get away from it.
Whenever Jane brought up the brutal murder of his family Kimball had thought he at the very least understood where he was coming from. Now he knew just how wrong he had been. Nothing could have prepared him for what he was feeling. Not that he was actually sure what he was feeling.
That was a part of the reason he had decided to lay in bed thinking until he fell asleep. That and he didn't have anything better to do since Lisbon had sent him home early. It wasn't as if there anything else that he could be doing.
At least that had been the plan. He knew that more than a few hours had passed with him laying there, but he felt as if nothing had happened. It was as if he hadn't really been thinking at all. Just waiting as the world spun.
Something that he hadn't experienced in awhile. He had learned early on that emotions could make or break everything. They could very easily give other people power of him and that was the last thing that he ever wanted. Especially since the last time that happened more than one person ended up dead.
It was a part of his past that he was not proud of. He hated the person that he became when he lost control. Whether it was because he lost it or because someone else manipulated him there was nothing enjoyable. The rage that he felt. The power. It was like nothing else.
He hated that feeling almost as much as he hated being passive and subdued. Sitting there watching as the world around him moved. It wasn't as if he felt like he wasn't moving. It was so much harder to explain than that. He wasn't even sure he knew the words himself.
A part of him didn't want to either. He didn't want to do anything at the moment. Hadn't for almost two months. Ever since Red John came back. He had been expecting that day to come sooner or later. He just hadn't thought it would end the way that it did.
With Patrick Jane dead.
He could barely even think those words without feeling like he should start throwing punches. The man was always so full of life. Even as he teetered on the edge. The world without Jane seemed wrong no matter how many times he thought it.
Which was exactly why he had been sent home. He had known just how many people knew the man. Jane was social and loud by nature. So it wasn't a surprise how many officers showed up offering their condolences as if they hadn't made fun of and disregarded Jane every chance they got.
He lost his temper. They hadn't been able to say a kind thing about him when he was alive so why did they deserve to mourn him? It might not have been his best idea, but he took a swing and broke one of their noses.
It probably could have been forgiven and forgotten if he had apologized, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to do that. Not when he knew that he wanted to do that from the beginning. The amount of times he had to curb the urge to give in to that side of him was more than he liked to think.
Now though he was facing the consequences. Two weeks at home with nothing to do but think about the fact that he failed. He failed to keep the man safe from the person that he had both feared and hated. Jane was killed at the hands of a man that had already taken everything else from him. It was his worst nightmare.
It didn't matter that there was nothing that he could have done to help. It wasn't as if any of them had been able to guess that Red John was planning what he was. At least they hadn't. He couldn't help wondering if Jane had known something was wrong. If he had simply held back the information he had. It was something he would do.
A growl slipped from Kimball's throat at that thought. One of his favorite things had been watching those blue eyes alight with passion and amusement. Jane had loved peppering bread crumbs in conversations so the team could catch up with things he already knew.
He was never going to see any of those again. The man was gone. Truly gone. Everything was gone. All the dreams and fantasies that he had known would never come to pass. He had known from the beginning that it was never going to happen It was all in his head and that was where it was meant to stay.
Yet he was mourning those thoughts. Those stupid thoughts of running his fingers through the blond curls. Of feeling his lips brushing against his own. Of feeling the man pin him against a wall or bed letting him feel everything that he was.
Shaking his head in hopes of getting rid of them for just a little while longer he climbed out of bed. For a moment he stood there wondering what he was supposed to do. It wasn't as if there was a lot he could do.
With a deep breath he made his way toward his kitchen table and the box of books on the table. They had both had a love of all things literary and that was all the he had let of the older man now. Books that Jane had kept by his couch. Something he hadn't allowed anyone else touch.
He was almost at the table when he came to a stop. He had been out of it when he got home that morning, but he would have remembered grabbing the mail. Right? He wouldn't have forgotten something like that. Yet on the table leaning against the box of books was a letter.
His mind raced as he continued his way over and picked the envelope up. He felt his stomach twist when he noticed there was no postage stamp. The only thing written was his name in an all too familiar handwriting.
A shaky breath fell from Kimball as he slowly made his way forward and picked up the envelope. For a moment it was as if his brain had stopped functioning. All he could do was focus on the twists and loops of his name.
The first thing that popped into his mind as the world came back into focus he was the urge to look around and try to figure out how it had gotten there. The idea that he saw that writing and then overlooked it was wrong. He would have never done that.
Which meant that the only logical explanation was that someone had come into his house and left it there for him. Nothing else about it made any kind of sense, but he found himself not caring about any of that just yet. Not when all of his attention was focused on the letter.
Dear Kimball,
I have tried to start this letter more times than I can count. Every time I find a reason for not getting past the first few sentences. Most of which are fairly good reasons and still I can't bring myself to stop trying. I even went as far as removing you from the picture completely in hopes that it would finally stick into my mind that this was something that I couldn't have. I've never been good at that though as I'm sure you've realized.
For the first time in my life I find myself questioning if I should listen to the part of me that's screaming to leave what I want more than anything and never look back. I'm not all that surprised you' r e the one that brought it out in me. You have always spoken to a part of me that I only ever showed my daughter. That want to be something more than I am for the people that I love. It's an odd feeling, but I still find myself craving it more and more every time I saw you.
A t least for awhile. I'm not exactly sure what changed, but I know something did and I had to stop it before it took control of the both of us. I thought I was doing the right thing. Now I'm not so sure. A part of me regrets what I've done . T hat's why I'm writing this. I need to talk to you about thing s I thought I should never admit to. I know you have a lot of questions an d that none of this makes sense, but please come to this address. I promise everything will be explained and if you choose to walk away afterward than you will never hear from me again.
Patrick Jane
Leaning against the wall Kimball clenched the letter in his fists barely feeling the paper crumple under the pressure. His mind felt like it was racing as he tried to figure out what the hell it was he had just read.
Two weeks. It had been two weeks since the older man had been killed. Except it had been a fire. The body had been so badly burned that the only reason they had known that it was Jane was because of DNA.
As the words he had read played over in his mind though he knew that had been faked. It wasn't as if that would be that hard to do for someone as smart as Jane. He just couldn't think of any reason why the man would being murdered by Red John.
Unless he was trying to trick the killer in some way. Something that he had pointed out on more than one occasion that he knew better than doing again. None of it made any sense. There was no reasoning behind what had happened.
For what felt like the hundredth time Kimball found himself wondering if he actually knew anything about the faux-psychic. It wasn't as if it would be all that difficult for Jane to pretend to be someone to get what he wanted. Whatever that was supposed to be.
Shaking his head he went back into his bedroom and threw on the first clothes he grabbed. Any other time he would put some thought into what he was wearing, but all that mattered to him at the moment was getting to wherever Jane was and getting some answers. Grabbing the letter he rushed down to his car and started to drive not giving himself a moment to think through what he was doing.
He had no idea how long he had been driving before he was pulling up to an old house. He had actually almost driven past it. It was the exact type of place that someone went to when they didn't want to be found.
Throwing the door to his car open he rushed forward not bothering to do any of checks that he had learned from being a cop. A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he could be walking into a trap, but he found himself not caring. All that mattered was finding out what was going on.
As he was walking up the stairs to the house the door opened and Jane stepped forward. The entrance lacked any grandeur that he had come to expect from the older man and for the first time he was a little disappointed.
"Cho," Jane greeted a wide smile on his lips that slowly slipped off as he started down the porch steps, "I wasn't prepared for you to be here so soon. I thought it would take longer."
Opening his mouth Kimball tried to find the right words to say but none came to mind. Despite the fact that the letter said it had been sent from the older man he hadn't believed it. Jane was gone and there was nothing that was going to change that.
Alright, so there had been a small part of him that had hoped they were all wrong. That Jane had just been trying to lure Red John out of hiding. That would have been the exact type of thing the man would do.
The letter painted all of it in a different light though. Jane didn't leave because he was trying to find a new way to get Red John. He obviously wasn't killed by the murderer either. Kimball had no idea what other explanations there were.
"Cho?" Jane questioned stopping right in front of him and lifting his hand, "Are you-"
Shaking his head quickly Kimball took a few steps back and turned away from the faux-psychic. His brain filled with a loud static as everything he was thinking overlapped until it felt like it was going to explode.
"Kimball?" the older man tried once more.
"Shut up, Jane," he ground out spinning around to glare at the man, "I just found out you faked your death. You can shut the fuck up for five seconds."
In an almost comical way the blonds mouth snapped shut before the detective even finished his sentence. Under any other circumstance he would have found the sight hilarious. Jane wasn't the type of person to be shocked like that.
At the moment though he couldn't bring himself to think about the man that he thought he knew. He might have questioned more than once if Jane was his friend, but that had nothing to do with him not trusting the man and everything to do with him not needing Kimball.
All the things that he had thought he knew and felt for the other man felt like lies. He had always been proud of the fact that he could see past the bull that Jane tried to pull with everyone else. At least he had thought he could. He wasn't so sure anymore.
"Start talking," Kimball practically ordered his arms crossing over his chest as he turned back to the older man.
"You're lucky you're who you are, Kimball," Jane replied sending him a strained smile, "No one else could get away with talking to me like that."
"'Get away with'? What the hell are you talking about?"
"It's a long explanation. Where would you like me to start?"
"Jane."
"Alright, Kimball, you got me. There's a lot of things that you need to know but one thing should be said before I get into any real details. One small, tiny, little thing that will actually explain a lot. You see, I'm Red John."
The words had barely left Jane's lips as they echoed in his brain making sense in a way he hated. Those three words should have thrown everything into chaos yet for some reason they brought it all together. As if they had been on the tip of his tongue the entire time.
It wasn't as if they hadn't been said before. Over the years a handful of people had gotten it into their heads that accusing Jane of being Red John was a good idea. They were always people that never saw beyond the masks that Jane put up.
As odd as it seemed knowing what he knew now Kimball was still sure those people were wrong. Not because Jane wasn't Red John, but because the accusations weren't done out of knowledge, but anger. Because of that it had been easy to ignore them. Having Jane say it though was different. He was simply stating a fact. There was nothing more to it.
"Kimball?" Jane called out rocking on his feet slowly, "You still with me?"
"You're Red John," he replied with a broken laugh, "Excuse me for needing a moment to understand."
Behind him a low noise escaped the older man. The sound was like nothing he had heard from Jane before. Before he could think of what to do a hand wrapped around his shoulder and pulled him in. He was barely able to get his bearings when he was pulled into a crushing kiss. His entire body went stiff and his eyes were wide as Jane broke the kiss and took a few steps back.
"What the hell?" Kimball asked his eyes darting around.
"As I said before it's hard to explain," Jane started turning away from him with a flourish as if nothing had happened, "Although, if I'm honest it's mostly because I could and there was no reason not to. I did try other things, but they were so boring. You know how I get when I'm bored."
"So you killed people."
"No! Well, not always. That part got quite dull as well. I won't deny that people died while being a part of my plan, but I always left them a way out. It's not my fault they were too stupid to find it."
Kimball couldn't help rolling his eyes at that. It was such a Jane thing to say and for some reason that calmed him down more than it should have. Although now that he was thinking about it he was a lot calmer than he should have been.
A man that he had known for years had just pointed out that he was the serial killer that they had been attempting to catch. He should be afraid or trying to arrest the man. Yet those thoughts were easy to dismiss.
"And your family?" Kimball found himself asking without a thought, "Why did you kill your wife and daughter?"
A part of him wanted to take the question back before he even finished it. If there was one thing that he never doubted it was how much Jane loved his daughter. That little girl had been his whole world. He needed to know though.
"Charlotte wasn't supposed to be there," Jane explained his whole body slumping slightly before he straightened up, "My dear, loving wife had decided to divorce me. I didn't really care and didn't want her around anyway. She was worthless. One day she started talking about taking Charlotte and leaving. She was going to claim that I was abusing them both. I couldn't let her do that. I knew the life that my baby girl would lead if she went with her mother.
"So, while Charlotte was at a sleepover I had some people come to the house. Angela was the only one that was supposed to be there. I don't know why Charlotte was. Maybe she wasn't feeling well or Angela was trying to get their things together to leave. My daughter is dead because of that woman."
Hearing the way his voice broke Kimball couldn't help moving closer to the man and resting a hand on his shoulder. He knew just how it was for Jane to lie, but there was no chance he was faking the sheer devastation in his voice talking about Charlotte.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" Kimball finally asked looking up at the sky.
"I don't know," Jane responded softly, "I never have been able to figure you out. I just couldn't leave it the way things were. You deserved better than that."
"Why?"
Instead of answering him Jane lifted his hand and placed it on Kimball's neck. Slowly his thumb ran over his cheek bring a smile to his lips. Blinking a few times the detective let his eyes lock with the breathtaking blue before he was being pulled into a kiss. Sighing softly he let his eyes slip shut as his hands wrapped around the mans hips and pull him closer.
"I'm so tired," Kimball offered his voice barely over a whisper as he broke the kiss.
"I know," Jane responded just as softly, "I know I haven't helped. I shouldn't have written you that letter."
"I'm glad you did."
"You are? Why?"
With a small smile of his own Kimball leaned up and pressed their lips together once more. A low laugh puffed against his lips before the hand on his jaw moved to the back of his head holding him tightly as their lips moved together.