(no subject)
It had been a long time since Patrick Jane had been to the tiny hut called home. So after he had spent time with both Daniel and Cole, and found out there were no more therapists left on the island to help him with his own particular 'issues', well, there really was nothing left to do but go home, and clean up what remained of his life.
When he was finished, it was sometime late in the afternoon, and he had time on his hands. He thought, momentarily, of going to find Guy or Roger, but something in him balked at that. No. Not yet. Not now. Guy would find him soon enough and Roger would too - and he would take his punishment slash medicine when that time came. Right now though, he wanted to find some peace, perhaps a little bit of grace. He didn't want to run into someone and know they had been married twice and liked to garden obsessively. He didn't want to engage his mind at all, for once.
The piano in the rec room called him like a siren, when he wandered through the Compound, and he slid towards it, running his fingers over the smooth and worn keys. He hadn't touched a piano for years, not since ... well.
Not since they died.
There was something about music - something that Patrick Jane and Red John shared. It soothed them, cleared their heads, gave them refuge. Patrick always hated and resented that his family's murderer shared his same habit, but was fascinated at the same time. Just another piece to the puzzle, after all.
Today, though. Today the music was to just soothe, not to solve anything. So he sat down, almost hesitantly, on the piano bench. He slid his fingers into place, and began to play. Something familiar, and 'Clare de Lune' plucked and then sang its way to life under his careful key presses. He bowed his head, so he could play in peace, and no one could see the sudden tears that threatened to spill over his cheeks.
[My first gathering post in like, two months! ST/FT welcome, and yes, he REALLY is just sitting there playing the piano, all alone. Come knock on emo!Patrick, he kind of needs it. Set around today, 4 pm, Island Time]
When he was finished, it was sometime late in the afternoon, and he had time on his hands. He thought, momentarily, of going to find Guy or Roger, but something in him balked at that. No. Not yet. Not now. Guy would find him soon enough and Roger would too - and he would take his punishment slash medicine when that time came. Right now though, he wanted to find some peace, perhaps a little bit of grace. He didn't want to run into someone and know they had been married twice and liked to garden obsessively. He didn't want to engage his mind at all, for once.
The piano in the rec room called him like a siren, when he wandered through the Compound, and he slid towards it, running his fingers over the smooth and worn keys. He hadn't touched a piano for years, not since ... well.
Not since they died.
There was something about music - something that Patrick Jane and Red John shared. It soothed them, cleared their heads, gave them refuge. Patrick always hated and resented that his family's murderer shared his same habit, but was fascinated at the same time. Just another piece to the puzzle, after all.
Today, though. Today the music was to just soothe, not to solve anything. So he sat down, almost hesitantly, on the piano bench. He slid his fingers into place, and began to play. Something familiar, and 'Clare de Lune' plucked and then sang its way to life under his careful key presses. He bowed his head, so he could play in peace, and no one could see the sudden tears that threatened to spill over his cheeks.
[My first gathering post in like, two months! ST/FT welcome, and yes, he REALLY is just sitting there playing the piano, all alone. Come knock on emo!Patrick, he kind of needs it. Set around today, 4 pm, Island Time]