Fade to Black

It was the laugh that got him. He'd imagined that sound for years. It taunted him in waking hours and in sleep. So when Patrick Jane heard Red John's actual laugh for the first time, sitting in a run-down Tijuana motel room with two dead bodies in the next room, he felt the walls closing in.

No one spoke much on the way back to the office. Rigsby drove while Lisbon took shotgun. Jane sat alone in the back, in the shadows. He caught Lisbon turning to check on him just once, but something in his eyes made her look away.

It was late. The Bureau was deserted when they arrived, everyone gone except Cho and Van Pelt. They'd already heard what had happened but they still stayed. Rigsby made a half-hearted attempt at levity, suggesting they go get a beer. No one responded until Cho got up from his desk with a sigh and headed out. Rigsby waited to see if Van Pelt would go with them but she kept her eyes down, reading a case file. He caught Lisbon giving him a sympathetic smile before he followed after Cho.

Jane had worked for years to control his emotions. His anger. He had prepared himself for the day he would exact his revenge on Red John. See him face to face. But he wasn't ready for the overwhelming fear that gripped him now. He'd been close, closer than he'd ever been to his wife and daughter's killer. He wasn't supposed to be scared.

Jane sat down at his desk, his back to Van Pelt, and had to stop his hands from shaking. He knew Lisbon would be watching him when he walked out the door. He just needed to make it outside. He balled his fists and dug them in his pockets, managing a tight smile as he passed her office door. From the look on her upturned face, bathed in the light of her desk lamp, he knew he had gotten away with it. He didn't see the frown that followed once he'd gone.

Outside he leaned against the door of his car, not trusting himself to drive. Not wanting to go home to a house that was mostly empty. He couldn't lie in his daughter's room and see that smiling face on the wall, painted in blood. Not tonight. Not after that laugh.

He was so consumed with the thought that he barely registered her footsteps. It took him a full ten seconds to even look up when she stopped in front of him. Her face was full of concern but she said nothing. He was glad.

Her movements were tentative when she took a step forward and unexpectedly put her arms around him. His hands were still in his pockets and he froze for a moment. He waited for her to pull away but she didn't. She held him gently, like he might break. When her hand touched the back of his head, Jane felt tears spring to his eyes, unwelcome and dangerous. He blinked them away before she let go.

When she didn't move away Jane was caught in a moment of heady need. He felt her warm gaze pierce his fear and render it mute for now. It was a blessing.

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But there was no conquering this sort of fear for long. This loss. It didn't matter what he did, Jane couldn't get past it. It was still there, close to the surface. Black edges in the corners of his vision.

They'd gone to a hotel. He couldn't take her to his place and she didn't invite him to hers. He'd managed to be gentle when he wanted to abandon courtesy, and she'd responded with an openness that brought him comfort – even desire – no matter how brief.

The moment was over.

Van Pelt kept her eyes averted as she buttoned her shirt. Jane was slower in his movements, though just as discreet. She was already tying her hair back into its ponytail when he found his voice.

"I'm sorry."

She paused, as if working out how she should act. She still didn't look at him. "For what?"

"This probably wasn't a good idea."

"Maybe not. No one needs to know." She got up and checked her hair in the mirror, then chanced a glance at him in the reflection. "I wasn't exactly planning on announcing it at the next team briefing."

Jane smiled, enough that she briefly returned the expression.

"I probably shouldn't have left my car at work though," she said. It sounded more like an excuse to leave and she shifted closer to the door.

He got to his feet. "I'll give you a ride."

"It's okay."

Jane stayed where he was, accepting her at her word.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Van Pelt said as she collected her jacket from a chair.

He nodded in response and attempted to smile again. She looked at him for a long moment, waiting in case he asked her to stay a little longer, he suspected. He almost did. He could feel the fear creeping in again, but Jane knew it would be a easier now. He would stay here for a while. He had the room all night. By morning he would be okay.

"Good night, Jane," Van Pelt said, her hand on the door knob.

"Good night, Grace."

After the sound of the door closing there was silence, but Jane stood still and listened until he could make out the hum of the traffic. There was a faint siren. He imagined he could hear conversations from the neighboring rooms.

Anything but that laugh.