Sweet Surrender

Disclaimer: Nope, it'll never be mine.

I'd go hungry,

I'd go black and blue

I'd go crawling down the avenue

No, there's nothing I wouldn't do.

-Adele, Make You Feel My Love

The beach had been one of her favorite spots; in life, she had mentioned the beach in passing at least once a week, and Patrick Jane, who had fallen in love with the most wonderful woman in the world, had even imagined that one day, he would wed her on a beach, which touched the Pacific Ocean.

However, those plans were before Red John had ruined his life for the second time.

He had pictured himself and her, on this very beach, family, and friends to celebrate and witness a union of two souls but instead of a damned union of happiness, they were all mourning a life. It was himself, various members of the CBI, Minelli, the new woman boss of the CBI Madeline Hightower, Van Pelt, Rigsby, Cho, her brothers and various other friends who gathered on the beach and wanted to pay tribute to the fallen agent, whose ashes were contained in the simple black urn.

Jane held onto the object for dear life, even as he ignored the sympathetic looks aimed toward him, even as Van Pelt steadied him from falling into the deep blue ocean, even as various people gave speeches about how inspiration she had been.

This was all his fault, if he had just killed himself right the first time; she'd still be alive.

Mourning Samuel Bosco, but she'd still be alive.

"Do you want to say something?"

He didn't respond with words or with a nod, and she knew he wasn't going too.

Jane hadn't spoken to anyone besides investigators after they rescued him, and when he spoke, it was as if he wasn't there.

He told them everything, and he left his emotions behind him.

He wasn't afraid, upset, homicidal, or suicidal—no, he was nothing, and he felt nothing even as Hightower informed him of her death.

She hadn't died right away, according to Hightower, a single bullet to the chest.

Adam Redders or Red John; had been the one who had killed himself—but not before he had set the place ablaze.

Jane apparently had trouble remembering, because he had knocked himself unconscious and had awoken in the hospital, people swarming around him to see if he was all right, to see if he was in any pain. He hadn't said a word, he refused to nod, and he refused to eat, which made things difficult all around.

He had planned starve away, to die in the most painful way possible—he deserved to suffer.

Van Pelt, always the gentle soul, had taken to staying with him when she wasn't working to make sure he didn't run his life into the ground—they'd never say anything, but Jane had the strangest idea that Van Pelt actually understood how he felt.

"Do you want to say goodbye?"

The word, "goodbye" made him feel ill. Jane realized, as the urn was stolen from him and opened—dark ashes scattered amongst the water, floating away into the not-so distant horizon where the sky faded into twilight—that his idea of a goodbye, growing old together, remaining on the Serious Crimes Unit and for the both of them to die together, was never going to happen.

Jane allowed the soft sound of crashing waves to carry him away, as he tried to block the soft sobs and the touch of comfort on his arm. He slowly turned to face the party assembled, and tore his arm from Van Pelt's grasp—his legs pumping to take him away from the situation, from the memories. He stopped the moment his green-blue gaze focused toward the outer limits of the beach to find a petite dark haired woman, who seemed to be staring at him in sadness, and the energy that had once possessed and propelled him forward, faded away.

He collapsed to his knees, and cried.

It was the only thing he knew to do.

Author's Note of Importance:

I said a few chapters back that I wanted to end the story in the way that felt natural to me, and I managed to do just that. I have no doubt that though I wasn't aiming to kill anyone off in this fic (I even told almost everyone I wasn't planning to kill anyone, and I'm sorry for that…apparently, characters don't listen to me…) there's a good reason for the way I ended the story, and my reasoning for that may or may not have to do with a possible sequel.

I realized after I wrote chapter 15, the only way to finish the story in a natural way was to conclude the story in a bittersweet matter.

Thank you to all the reviewers, readers and alerters for following this story—I'd list you all, but there's a long list and you all deserve cookies for trusting me to write something amazing. I hope I did it well.