Hey there! So, a few things I need to say before I let you read :p First, like always, I'm not English so please forgive any possible mistake. I swear I tried my best to avoid them, but you know mistakes, there're always the strongest…Second, you must not forget that Red John is dead (that's important for the story, and I don't really explain it right at the beginning, so now you know) . Third, no, I sadly don't own "The Mentalist".

Also, this fic has been deeply influenced by the song "Kuolema tekee taiteilijan" (that's Finnish, by the way), by Nightwish. You guys should listen to it while you read, it gives such a tragic dimension to the story. Here's the link (on Youtube) : watch?v=HgqOy3OCoio

Enjoy!

He was the only one in the cemetery that day. A lonely, silent shadow walking among grey graves. He didn't even have to look around him – he knew the path by heart.

He put one bunch of pink flowers on Angela's grave, and one of purple ones – her favourites - on Charlotte's. Then he took a step back, crossed his hands and kept silent.

His car was waiting for him, parked on the side of the road. He wasn't planning to linger here long. Everything was ready for his departure.

"Yeah, I thought you guys should know that I'm leaving tomorrow."

The team had turned to him as if animated by one common soul. Grace's face had been a silent 'what?!' Rigsby had been too stunned to say anything and even Cho had seemed surprised. Only Lisbon had stayed perfectly still – her face unreadable, emotionless. She hadn't even looked at him. He wondered if she hadn't been expecting it all along, actually.

"Leaving? You mean, leaving like…leaving?" had been Rigsby's first words, and Jane'd almost laughed at him. Almost.

"Yes, I mean leaving. Leaving Sacramento. Leaving my job here. I need some fresh air."

"And you're leaving tomorrow?" That, had been Lisbon's first words. Uttered in an emotionless voice. Damn, she was good.

"So soon?" asked Grace, her voice almost pleading, begging – begging for what? For him to stay? Maybe - but they all knew he had to go. They knew it. Proof was that none of them had tried to make him change his mind. They'd went back to their work, as if everything was perfectly normal.

And he had unconsciously taken a step towards Lisbon, not noticing he had done it until he'd found himself face to face with her. She had understood his act as a wish to talk in private, maybe - to talk to her anyway, and she had walked away from him, almost aggressively.

"You do as you wish" she'd shrugged, turning away from him. "Like always".

So, he had said his good-byes. But now he still had one thing to do, before he could really leave. He stood silent for a while, contemplating the grave, not saying a word – not thinking, actually. That was strange – him, not thinking. As far as he could remember, his mind had always been full of thoughts, dark thoughts, plans and conspiracies. Now it was peaceful. Well, not totally peaceful, but he knew that one day it eventually will be. He was confident.

He looked at the grave for a few more minutes, and then said "Well, hello, I guess." He had always hated it – talking to graves – but paradoxically he had always felt the desire, the need to do it. Even the smartest ones need to behave like idiots sometimes.

"I'm here because…well, Red John, he's gone. I killed him." Here, he stopped for a while. He couldn't believe what he was saying. It almost sounded unreal. He said it once more, just to be sure – then he said it again, and again, and again, until his mouth was dried. "Red John is gone. I killed him." Then he laughed. Then he kept silent for a while.

When he spoke again, he had calmed down a bit.

"You needn't worry about the aftermath. Lisbon…"

Damn. He shouldn't have talked about Lisbon. It was painful. He could still see her face when he had told her he was leaving for good.

"Anyway," he started again." Lisbon took care of it. My record's clean." He stopped once more. Something passed in his eyes and, for a second, he almost looked sad - but he shook his head, and went on. "I didn't come here to tell you so. I mean, I did, but there's something else I need to say." He took a deep breath, shook his head once more as if to convince himself. "I came here to tell you that I'm leaving Sacramento. For good. I'm leaving the CBI and all. Where will I go, you ask? Well, I don't really know. I'm still looking for a nice, little town where I can leave the rest of my life happily."

He frowned, as if he had been talked back. For a second, he looked all around him, then stared at the grave again. He looked puzzled.

"I know, it might sound a bit weird. I've spent so many years in Sacramento. Everyone I know and love lives here. But I've got to move on, you know? I've got to start a new life, now that he's…now that it's all over. And I can't do it here. I can't. There're too many memories. Bad memories."

"Well, I know, there're good memories too. Like…" he raised his head and looked up at the sky, but stayed silent. Somehow, a smile formed on his lips, lasted for a few seconds, and disappeared. The sad look haunted his eyes again.

"But the bad ones overcome the good ones. And I really need to go. I think you can understand that." He stopped, as if waiting for an answer.

"Of course, I'll come and visit you once in a while. You know that. You and the team. That'll be nice to spend one or two days with them, don't you think? Lisbon…"

This time, he didn't stop – he froze. And that wasn't sadness anymore, that thing you could see in his eyes – it was hurt. He stood still, his mouth slightly open. Then, slowly, one single tear ran down his cheek. He didn't acknowledge it – he didn't even know he was crying.

"Lisbon, she blames me, you know" he said. He was whispering now, though he didn't even know why. "Of course, she's got plenty of reasons to blame me. Red John. My being selfish. My pushing her aside, always keeping her in the shadows. She's been so nice to me all those years, I don't think I've ever owed someone that much. But…I'm leaving for her good, too. I'm not safe enough. I will only hurt her more. You know I'm right, don't you?"

He kneeled in front of the grave, running a finger on the cold stone. "Tell me I'm right. Tell me she'll be alright." He raised his head, looked up at the grave – at the name written on it. He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

Another tear rolled down his cheek – this time, he did notice it. He wiped it away almost angrily and swore under his breath. He couldn't be crying. Not now that he needed to be strong.

It was supposed to be a happy departure. He was supposed to head towards happiness, towards a new, shiny life. He wasn't supposed to look back and reflect on what he was going to lose.

"Well, Angela, dearest, the fact is…" He leaned towards the grave, until they couldn't be closer. His lips gave the stone a soft kiss. "The fact is…" He swallowed hard once, twice, then closed his eyes. He had found that whispering things was easier than saying them aloud.

"The fact is I've always sworn I would love you, and only you, but…"

This "but" was painful to his ears and to his lips but once he had told it, he felt incredibly relieved.

"But I think…I think Lisbon…I think I'm in love with her."

He felt shocked. He truly, really felt shocked. He had never thought he would ever confess that to anyone, even to a grave. But yet, once again, that warm relief invaded him.

"Please darling, don't be mad at me. I didn't do it on purpose, I swear. I wasn't willing to fall for her. But it…sort of happened."

He wiped his eyes, stood up. Stared at the grave once more. The cool, silent stone seemed to be looking at him – the name shining under the wintery sun. Angela Jane. Beloved wife.

"So please, Angie, tell me I'm right to leave. Tell me I'm doing the right thing here."

The wind was the only one to answer him. But he's got it.

Never had a ride to the CBI seemed so long.

She was standing in her office, ready to leave. Her right hand was holding her coat – she looked up at him as soon as she heard his footsteps.

"Jane" she said. Obviously, she was quite confused to see him here. "What are you doing? Why are you still here?"

He didn't have time to wonder why she sounded so nervous, or why she had taken a few steps back, or why she was trying not to look at him, as if she was scared of meeting his eyes. He just walked towards her, not giving himself time to stop – or to doubt.

"Have you forgotten something?" she asked.

"Yeah" he said, and he couldn't help a smile to cross his lips. "I have. You". He leaned, grab both her shoulders and give her lips a soft, gentle kiss.

He didn't know what he had expected. That she would pull away, likely. Slap him, maybe. Ask him if he had lost his mind, if he was going insane. Put him to jail.

But what she did was even better. She kissed him back.

Hated it? Loved it? Please leave a review!

Lots of love + have a nice day/night/whatever.

Sarah. xx