Title: A Haunting of the Murderous Kind
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Do I look like Bruno Heller?
Summary: One shot. "You're very much like him you know? The way you look at people and see right through them. That is just spooky."
I'm not too sure if you can really call this a pairing or more just two different points of view on the same situation. However, it will be labeled Jane/Red John. Not a slash pairing.
Thank you, once again, toiloveplotbunnies for the sweet review on Sacrifice to the Voice. Also, thank you to a new reviewer, for me, tromana, for leaving a review on the same story. You're both too sweet for words.
I.
He had the dream again. The dream that had woken him up so many times before and had been the reason for the insomnia he suffered from. Every time he would close his eyes, there it would be.
A shadow-like figure would appear before him and approach. It had no face, no mouth, and no legs. It would just float in the middle of a white room. He would run towards the shadow-like figure only for it to disappear and for him only to hear the laugh.
The laugh that had said defeat and terror. Mystery and horror. Blood and knives. Once the laugh had stopped, he would wake up from the dream in the same cold sweat and would look around the room for that same shadow-like figure.
He'd realize that it isn't there and then go back deep into his thoughts. He would go back over every piece of evidence he had collected while on he had been on the hunt for vengeance.
The dream would remind him of the memories of that night. How the man or men that he had been chasing for years were like shadows. Figures that would only pass you by; all you had heard was a dark cackle and the sounds of heavy-booted footsteps. Booted footsteps that held the traces of the blood of over thirty victims, victims that hadn't even gotten the chance to scream out, just like his wife and child.
He would then start to wonder – did his nightmare ring more truth then ever before? Had he been chasing only the shadows of his past?
II.
He had the dream again. The dream that had woken him up so many times before and every time he would close his eyes, there it would be.
The mission, which had written out for him in his red ink on the white wall of the dream. A mission that had been spelled out for him by Rebecca, but she had betrayed him. She had said too much.
She had said, "You're very much like him you know? The way you look at people and see right through them. That is just spooky."
When he would awake the memory of those words would ring in his ears. It would repeat in his mind like a scratched CD. The same three lines, on repeat.
He had thought she had been wrong at the time, but he would look back on it, him and his opponent had not been so different.
What he didn't know is that he had haunting memories too. He had a driven goal, a past, just like anyone else. These memories are the ones that had drawn him into this lifestyle.
Little did Patrick Jane know, that he too had once been on a quest for vengeance and for freedom of his once living nightmares.
A vengeance that not even he had satisfied yet. He would then start to wonder – did his nightmare ring more truth then ever before?