"Sorry, Patrick. Teresa can't come to the phone right now."
Jane's heart stops. No. No. No, his mind is chanting over and over. He barely hears the eerie voice on the other end asking if he would like to leave a message, and is unable to summon a response fast enough.
"Wait," he pleads, to no avail. A soft click signals that the connection has been broken.
Jane is filled with contradicting feelings. Cold, hot. Wanting to scream, and unable to speak. Itching to run, but frozen in place.
"Jane?" He hears Van Pelt's soft voice calling his name, but he can't make himself pay attention.
"Jane? What's wrong?" Grace asks apprehensively, taking in the look of shocked horror on his face.
"Lisbon," Jane manages to whisper. "Red John."
"What do you mean?" Her tone sharpens, and she is instantly alert.
Jane feeds off of Grace's determination, and forces his eyes to meet hers. "I called her phone. Red John answered," he says quietly, voice shaking.
"Oh my God," Grace breathes, taking a moment to digest what Jane has told her. Then, she sprints over to her computer, and her fingers are immediately flying across the keyboard.
"I've got the address," she says, but her hands are still moving. "Partridge is there also." Grace quickly exits the screen, and calls Rigsby. She fills him in and asks him to call Cho, and meet her and Jane at the house.
Jane can't wait in the car. Cho doesn't even bother telling him to, he just hands the consultant a vest and gives him a look that clearly says, "Be careful".
They go about the empty house, clearing each room, until finally they open a door and find exactly what they were hoping – and dreading – to find. Red John's signature smiley face is painted on the wall, still dripping wet. A coppery smell fills their nostrils, and they know it is fresh. Underneath the face lies the body of Brett Partridge, but Jane isn't paying him any attention. Off to the side, there is another face he recognizes. Lisbon's hair is tousled but her face – and the bloody marking on it – is clearly visible. Once again, Jane finds himself frozen in place, as he takes in the cut on her stomach. He's seen countless cuts like that before. One instance in particular comes to mind, but he forces the image away. He can't afford to live in the past right now, not when his link to the present is so tenuous.
Jane is so fixated on the cut on her stomach that it takes him a minute to realize blood is still flowing from it, as it rises and falls ever so slightly. She's alive.
The knowledge brings Jane back to life, and he rushes over to her. Even with that awful symbol painted over her features, he doesn't think he's ever been happier to see her face. He holds his hand over the wound on her abdomen. The warmth is disconcerting – he again flashes back to the night his family died, and he remembers how cold their blood was. He reminds himself that warmth is a good thing, that warmth is a sign of life, that warmth is what they need.
"I think she's been drugged," Van Pelt murmurs, startling Jane out of his thoughts. In the distance, he can hear Cho and Rigsby continuing to clear the remainder of the house. "I'll call an ambulance." Though she is clearly shaken, Jane can sense her utter relief at finding Lisbon alive.
A tiny moan escapes Lisbon's lips, and Jane grins as her eyes flutter open.
"Hey there," he says softly.
"Jane," Lisbon whispers. "Partridge…"
"He's dead," Jane tells her.
"I know," Lisbon says, interrupting before Jane can continue. "I was there…he said 'tyger, tyger,'" she adds.
Jane's stomach clenches at the news, but he merely nods. "It wasn't him who did this to you," he states.
"I didn't see who," Lisbon mutters, her voice fading fast. "I'm sorry…"
"Shhh, it's okay. I'm just glad you're alive," Jane answers.
"Why didn't he kill me?" Lisbon asks. Her eyes are pleading with Jane for answers.
"To send a message," Jane whispers, gently tracing the outline of the smiley face along her cheek. It's a message that he hears loud and clear. Jane has wanted Red John dead for a decade, as vengeance for his wife and daughter. Now, though, there is a burning pit of rage in his stomach, and Jane wants Red John dead for an entirely different reason.
Lisbon's eyes drift shut as sirens become audible in the distance, having succumbed to the effects of the drugs once more. Jane continues to press against the wound on her stomach, staunching the flow of blood as he looks at the image on her face. He knows he needs to do a better job of protecting her. After all, it is his fault that this happened. Jane makes Lisbon a silent promise – Red John will never touch her again. Not as long as he is still breathing.