Red Silences

Summary: Four months would change everything between them. J/L-ish. Secret Summer Santa Gift for Just Mosie.

Disclaimer: I own four characters, the plot and the twisted mindset…everything else sadly belongs to someone other than me.

Spoilers: Set after 2x23 or "Red Sky in the Morning"

Prompt: Jane finds reminders of his family.

A/N:

First off, I would just like to say before we jump into the proverbial rabbit hole-this story has already been completely written, and it may or may not have a sequel depending on my updating schedule in the next few weeks.

I DO plan to update Sweet Surrender and Taking Chances this week, as soon as everything else that I pushed aside in favor of the Summer Secret Santa is completely finished.

Anyway, onto the story, penned for Just Mosie with her prompt, Jane finds reminders of his family.

Enjoy.

Chapter One:

Faithfully

The poem was a diversion, the beautiful assistant to the magician of sorts—Jane knew that, because if it weren't a diversion; Red John wouldn't have allowed their meeting to be captured on tape nor would he have worn such a cheap rubber dime store mask to make his first appearance to Jane.

Personally, he did not feel anything wrong about lying to Lisbon, as what Red John said would never amount to anything more than knowing that Red John loved literature and thought he was helping Jane out by keeping him on his toes. None of that would help them capture the bastard but as he rested his head against his soft pillow, his body on the air mattress and the poem dancing and echoing in the silence, with the book between his hands and chest did he remember that something was in his vest pocket. Jane retracted his fingers from atop the leather bound book to pull aside his black jacket, and shove his hand into the vest pocket to pull out the red-stained silver chain, gently.

Patrick Jane also knew that if Lisbon found out that he had lifted material from a crime scene, she would be pissed and then she would make some claim about him hindering the investigation but how did one go around hindering any investigation if the chain was for you and you alone.

Jane's blue-green eyes reflected off the chain, as he twirled it around his finger until a sob broke from his lips. Eyes pained and shadowed by the knowledge that the inexpensive silver necklace, wrapped around his finger, had been bought for his daughter at Disneyland on her third birthday. However, sob was because of the very idea that the bastard had unhooked the chain from around his daughter's neck, her neck careening with life as she lay on the floor, waiting for her daddy to come home with her wide, lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling, his wife next to her in the same state.

Overall, it was the seven years of guilt that had resonated deep within that would kill him, the guilt that Jane had spent so long trying to bury deeper and deeper within him at every shy breath, and the sudden chill of the night consumed him again, swallowing him whole into the ever-verging darkness.

He lifted the cover of the book on his chest and pulled out a slender knife hidden within the pages.

It was going to be a long night.

OoO

Lisbon did not spare a glance or a greeting at him, as he stepped into the bullpen mid-afternoon, the chain encircled around his neck while he made his almost ritualistic movement to smile at Van Pelt, who weakly smiled back before she glanced down at her computer screen. He moved a few steps over to tease Rigsby; however, his heart was not in it, which left him with some overused joke about Rigsby's eating habits while the man in question stared back at him in mute surprise, as Cho focused his own eyes on Jane. They all knew the man had been different lately, especially since the events of three days ago but as the man sunk down onto the couch, and crossed his arms against his chest and closed his eyes, the three shared concerned glances.

It was not until he began to scream, no more than thirty minutes later, jagged nails digging into his own pale-fleshed neck, did Van Pelt, Rigsby and Cho realize that Patrick Jane was beyond fixable.

OoO

Lisbon tried to ignore him when he stepped into the bullpen mid-afternoon, but she soon found that impossible as she watched him from her open blinds, a slightly off-kilter smile on his face as he greeted each member of the unit except her.

She was not about to greet him, or even let him catch her eye because she knew he lied. CSU had finally turned over the evidence, and Lisbon had finally been able to watch the tape down in the cold evidence locker of the CBI; and to think that all these deaths had occurred because two individuals wanted to make homage to one of the greatest serial killers of all time, Red John.

Even as Lisbon had rushed in, her gun bared to save Jane—she was not expecting the blood bath sprayed against the gothic walls, or splashed across the floor in tidal pools of scarlet. Lisbon felt her heart accelerate, blood pounding through her ears as the question vibrated against the inside of her skull what if Jane was the victim or what if Jane was missing. It was not until she could hear the telltale signs of dry sobbing, and dry retching did she realize that he was safe. Her stomach dropped, and though, Teresa Lisbon was a strong woman all on her own, she lost her stomach contents on the patterned floor below her feet, she lifted the back of her hand weakly to her mouth and wiped away at the fowl liquid.

"Lisbon?" Jane's voice had called out to her, and she did not care. She didn't care that she was tracking vomit with her as she ran to him or that Red John could still be lurking around, all she cared about was that her consultant was safe and sound, all she cared about was that the man before her, blonde hair and all still had life in him, was still himself.

It was clear though, he was not himself. Jane lied to Lisbon yes, it was to be expected from the wayward consultant but never had Jane hid something from her pertaining to Red John and it hurt. She thought she could trust him but the more she thought about it, trust wasn't a word she could or would ever associate with Patrick Jane as he did whatever he had to do to protect himself, and more recently, her. She knew though, that when it came down to it, Patrick Jane always had her back and she always had his…friends did that for each other, right?

Teresa Lisbon however, could not ignore the tightening in her chest as her mind retraced the last few days, the lost look across his features during the tape, the unadulterated fear shining in his eyes as Red John leaned closer and closer to him. Every moment a little bit more antagonizing because what if the breath you had just taken, was the last breath you would ever take? She could not imagine not coming into the office in the morning, and not seeing him on that couch of his but as she thought about it, she knew she was losing him slowly but surely.

Patrick Jane was slipping away from her, and for the first time in her life, Teresa Lisbon did not know what to do about it, her mind whirled with many possible solutions: therapy, hugs, gifts, and talks. None of those ideas were wonderful solutions because in all the years she had known the man that was Patrick Jane, Jane was never a touchy sort of person, he was the one who bought them gifts, and he loathed any and all sort of therapy plus everything she said to him, in terms of a personal or professional life went in one ear and out the other. However, when Lisbon heard the scream from the bullpen, and though she was pissed as hell at him for lying—she ran out from her office to find the man who occupied her thoughts, thrashing against the worn leather couch—nails digging into his throat, scarlet staining the pale color of his hands.

Lisbon did the only thing she could think to do to keep him calm; she threw her legs over top of him and straddled his middle section, her stressed face focused down on his.

"Jane…" Lisbon coaxed softly, and his body stopped thrashing around as the screams turned into soft whimpers and eerie words, which filled the silence.

"…worthless…"

"Jane?" Lisbon repeated, he didn't stir but he continued to whimper and Lisbon glanced up at her team, who stared at her in complete surprise, even Cho, who normally wore an unexpressive mask had somewhat of a concerned glint in his eyes.

"Is he okay?" Van Pelt asked with her voice barely above a whisper as Rigsby rushed from the room, Van Pelt followed without receiving her answer and Cho barely glanced at Lisbon before he followed them, leaving the bullpen completely empty, except for Jane and Lisbon as most employees were at a department budget meeting.

"Jane?" Lisbon repeated again, and she gained no response from the man but as she glanced down at his bloody neck, she noticed a single piece of jewelry attached to his neck, and she leaned over to unclasp the necklace from around his neck.

Instead of the whimpers dying, he began to scream again and his hand flew up and smacked Lisbon across the face in order to keep her away from his neck, she stared in disbelief and he began to sob again.

"…I couldn't save you…."

Instead of straddling him, she twisted her other leg dangling off Jane to come meet her other leg against the back of the couch and pressed her throbbing cheek against the cool material of Jane's vest, his soft sobs continued as she clenched onto him with the soft words and promises that everything would be alright humming in the air around the both of them—but she knew it was all a lie, as she couldn't do anything to save him from himself when she had her own problems to fix.

OoO

It was dark when Jane awoke, his sleep having turned from nightmares to complete blissfulness—he didn't even remember stepping into work, nor did he remember someone ever having been on top of him either; he carefully guided his hand from over the couch's edge to slowly bring them up to where his chest was supposed to be, he ghosted his fingers over whatever it was, only to come into contact with long soft hair.

Jane stiffened, and the person on top of him burrowed into him—soft snores coming from her direction as words flittered past her lips.

"Patrick…" Jane relaxed, it was Lisbon…it was not Van Pelt (not that he would have minded having Van Pelt on his chest but Rigsby might not have liked that.) It was then, after a few moments of silent reflection on why Van Pelt was the ideal choice to have on his chest that the full realization hit him, Lisbon was on top of him—her cheek pressed against his chest and it was the feeling of her chest rising and falling against his abdomen.

He opened his mouth to wake her, but he found he could not and his hand began to run through her dark hair in a soothing matter. Patrick Jane however, could not ignore the strange heartwarming feeling rushing through his veins and that made him feel worse, much worse.

After all, he could not be in love with Lisbon.

They were only friends, right?

"I'm sorry…"

The word broke the peaceful silence around them, and the dam Jane held tightly, broke as he sobbed silently, still running his fingers through her soft hair as she slept peacefully through, unaware that things between the two of them were about to change.