gift of the magi in red, a mentalist fanfic

Patrick Jane's long-term motel room was comfortable enough, clean enough, beige enough. Almost anonymous, it was the perfect setting for almost anonymous sex.

Giddy, zaftig Marcy Berman worked in payroll at the CBI. She'd flirted persistently for years and was finally getting her heart's desire. Straddling Patrick's body beneath her on the bed, she cried out his name as she bounced her way to her dream orgasm. As her cries ebbed, he flipped her on her back and quickly reached his own climax.

He lied and said he had an early meeting. She left soon after. "Sorry, Marcy," he thought as he soaped off the scent of her in the shower

Keshia Lewis from community relations had changed into her best black dress and heels in the CBI locker room. She waited in front of the building and smiled wide when the blue Citroen glided to a halt in front of her. She waved triumphantly to her jealous co-workers as the beautiful Patrick Jane walked around the car to open the passenger door.

Teresa Lisbon observed all from the bullpen window. Patrick glanced up and gave her a playful wave. Teresa waved then backed away from the window determined to hide her tears.

Since Red John had announced that he'd changed the rules, Patrick had been seen with a different woman every night. Teresa's brain screamed, My god, after Sean Barlow, can you have any doubt that I love you? That I've been waiting for you? That I've risked my career and my life for you? How can you do this to me?

Cathie Finch from cyber-crime leaned back against the break room wall. She twirled a lock of her hair and looked up into Patrick's blue-green eyes. She licked her lips and laughed at everything he said.

Teresa Lisbon charged into the room for a coffee refill. One look at the duo and she wheeled around and charged out. She just managed to seal herself in her office before she cried. She smashed her coffee cup against the wall. How can he give them what he's never given me? Am I that unlovable? Her phone rang. The Sacramento Police informed her that Red John had struck again.

Patrick took his time inspecting Marcy Berman's ravaged body. Teresa waited for his verdict. "Definitely Red John," he announced. "That's what I thought," she said. He left Teresa behind with the body so she wouldn't see the satisfaction on his face. Patrick's plan was working.

Two days later, Keshia Lewis's body was discovered by her landlord. Teresa interviewed the man while Patrick circled the bed and examined the smiley face. Poor Keshia, he thought. Red John had promised to kill more often and just as Patrick knew he would, he was picking off the women closest to the consultant one by one.

Weeks before, when Patrick first viewed Red John's video message, he'd figured out Grace's password and logged in to her nosy computer. It was amazing the info one could glean. He was looking for a very specific type of person. Marcy's email revealed that she'd left her puppy home without food over a long weekend when she got lucky at the local bar. Keshia's personnel file stated that she delighted in making fun of the developmentally disabled mailroom guy. According to her bank records, this latest woman, Cathie, had used her computer skills to skim a little off the bank accounts of three elderly people. Petty monsters all.

Patrick knew that he'd become a monster too. He would do anything to get Red John but he'd also do anything to protect Teresa Lisbon. So he was serially seducing the morally-flawed females of the CBI; serving up their lives to the killer in order to keep him occupied. All to protect the woman he loved. He was on a tight timeline. He knew Red John would save Teresa for last, his grand finale. He hoped these other women would buy more time to trim the list of seven and keep Teresa safe.

Cathie Finch, the girl who'd been flirting with Patrick in the coffee room, was certainly very pretty. Graceful and willowy. It was obvious why she'd caught Patrick's eye. Marcy had been a tad porcine and Keshia was a bit low-rent. But Cathie was a cut above. Patrick had just dropped her off from their date. She unlocked her apartment, kicked off her shoes and stripped off her pants and her blouse. Her underwear matched. Madras plaid cotton bra and panties. Sweet.

Cathie was pretty, but not prettier than Teresa. Teresa's breasts were perkier. Teresa's thighs were firmer and her pores were smaller. Fucking bitch. No way Cathie deserved Patrick. She had to die. From her hiding place behind the curtains, Teresa Lisbon examined her curved blade. It was honed and ready.

Red John slumped down in the driver's seat, his car idling across from Cathie Finch's place. This was the third time he'd shown up to take care of one of Patrick's lady friends only to see Teresa Lisbon leave, dripping knife in hand. He chuckled. Little vixen. Hats off. She'd beaten him to the punch once again. He'd always hated cheap imitations of his work. But this was superb. Kudos. Beautifully executed. Such attention to detail. He couldn't have done better himself. He almost wished he could get to know this intriguing woman. But he couldn't allow her to infringe on his signature style. He would put an end to that. Tonight.