RED KING OF HEARTS

Synopsis:

Patrick Jane is holding onto the last strands of his sanity and becoming absorbed with the Red John case. When Lisbon gets a new distraction in her life, Jane begins to realize that if he lost her for good, it might just be the end of him. Worried for the safety of those around him, Patrick Jane leaves the CBI in reckless hopes that it will force the killer who obsesses over him to confront him. But when Jane goes missing, his only hope is that Teresa Lisbon and his other team members find him.

Rated T - for potential disturbing content, mild language and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Mentalist or it's characters. Cue a reverse Red John smiley: :-(

Patrick awoke suddenly, looking around at the dusty surroundings of the attic of the CBI. Books and files lay open and scattered on the grimy floor. A notebook was laying open that had many annotations and his own thoughts on the case of Red John- something he was determined to finish, before it finished him.

Golden light was shimmering through the windows, and Patrick found himself shielding his eyes from the glare as he sat up. Something was wrong. It was entirely too quiet for this time of day. A feeling of foreboding crept upon him as he stood, and unwillingly went toward the door. He pulled it open and went through it. The silence was incredibly eerie. Where was the usual chatter and the sound of clicking fingers on keyboards and telephones ringing? Patrick ventured down the stairs slowly, and found the offices completely abandoned.

Panic surged through him. Where was everyone? This wasn't right.

Patrick looked down the still corridor and saw a single blue teacup that he frequently used sitting upon the floor… He watched in in amazement at it's sudden appearance- so strange it was to be set there, as if challenging him. Hesitating for only a second more, Patrick went toward it and picked it up, turning it over in his hands looking at it curiously. Something else caught his attention and Jane looked up.

The sight took his breath away, and he staggered back against the wall, hitting the cold stone behind him. Suspended in all it's glory, Red John's smiley face was drawn upon the wall in blood, streaming down like tears from it's happy smile- it was the blood of the CBI agents- the cup fell from his hands as if in slow motion. The noise was amplified as it shattered to pieces.

With a gasp, Patrick awakened, for real this time. He was covered in cold sweat and a piece of paper he had been composing his thoughts on was stuck to the side of his face which had sunken in exhaustion upon the small table up in the attic room where he had been working all night. Jane pulled it off with a sigh, feeling jittery and anxious even though he knew it was just a dream. Just a dream.

Patrick rubbed his face vigorously. He knew what he was doing was bad. Illogical even. The obsessing, the late night scribbling, his heightened levels of paranoia that prevented him from wanting to go home, and the lack of care for himself. But it had become a mad desire, a sick preoccupation that had continued this lunacy.

Jane held his breath for a moment…Listening… Ah, there it was… the sweet sounds of the office workers below…phone calls, muted voices and copying machines… It had just been a dream. Sighing with relief, Jane rose from the seat, gathering the papers and quickly replacing them in their folders. He placed them all on the table, and looked down at his open notebook. Jane had written all the names of Red John's previous victims down, in order. He had been trying to find some sort of code or anagram that could have been created from these women's names. It had ended up being a wasteful trial to go through every sort of combination imaginable. Sure, he had come up with some pretty interesting messages, but did they mean anything? Probably not.

Jane grabbed the piece of paper that he had written all over, taking up every bit of the page with this insanity, and ripped it from the notepad, crumpling it into pieces. He threw it on the ground, tears entering his eyes from his maddening situation. Jane knew what he was doing. He was driving himself crazy, that or Red John was… perhaps this is what he wanted. With a sudden cry of frustration, Jane hit the wall with his fists, pounding against it furiously.

Why? Was what he had done before so bad to deserve all of this? Jane never wanted to hurt all those people, he had been forced to, hadn't he? How else was he, ex-psychic-aging-boy-wonder to survive in the corporate world? Leaving the carnival hadn't been easy, and after a long period of doors slamming in his face, and rejection letters, Jane had found a job in Las Vegas, working in one of the old theaters on the strip. But there was no real money there, and trying to support his newly wed wife who was going to have his child… What else could he do?

Jane had gone through the guilt, humiliation and the countless nights of self loathing where he analyzed his own actions of being the ones he had always flawed his father for. But Jane always found excuses. He was helping people wasn't he? He was telling the fools what they needed to hear to move on with their lives- giving them closure and the chance to start fresh… He was just looking out for his family… He was doing it for them; For Angela and for Charlotte. Then, something happened in this strange lapse of blind pride and egomaniacal mindset: It was all a great game to him and he was gaining steam and recognition for his talents that so many pushed away in years before. It had become a gamble to predict oh-so-accurately, and he was a winner! Everyone knew who he was- he was famous! The police wanted him to help out on their cases, he was getting top dollar to listen to rich idiot's menial problems, and he was helping so many people, wasn't he?

With an exhausted sigh, Jane rested his forehead against the cool window, it was still early morning and his breath was fogging up the cracked glass pane. No. He had not done any of those things. There was one time when Jane really wanted to help people and it may have started out that way. Somehow he had let himself become corrupted by greed and pride, by monetary value and superficial items like large houses and the finest furniture. Jane had not realized that the one thing that he really treasured beyond anything else was the ones that he had somehow managed to over-look in all of his riches. His family. Now, what was the house? It was no home with none of his loved ones. Patrick had cleared all of the rich décor and designer couches from his Malibu residence. So now he would never forget how truly empty it was.

"Jane?" Jane started, turning around to the voice which called out his name. Teresa Lisbon stood, gazing at him with a concerned expression on her face. "You alright?" She asked, her eyes analyzing him in a worried way.

Patrick shook his head, his hand resting on his lower back as he rocked on the balls of his feet. "Yeah, I'm fine." He said quietly, looking away, toward his paperwork that now lay piled up. Lisbon followed his gaze and then looked down at the floor which had scrap paper crinkled up into little balls that littered the floor. But she made no comment about it, in which Jane was grateful for.

"You coming?" Lisbon asked.

He was distracted for a moment as he thought of his work, then he realized she had spoken him.

"Huh?" Jane jerked his head toward her, questioningly, but he hurriedly read her body language which suggested that she wanted to leave with her foot turned toward the door. "Oh, yeah, yeah, sure." Jane replied quickly, trying to save himself from looking as if he hadn't been paying attention.

Lisbon frowned, he knew she had caught it… in fact, she had mentioned several times in the past month how his memory had been failing him. Patrick had denied it, making clever excuses and a worthy distraction whenever it was brought up. She beckoned him with a tilt of her head, her green eyes gazing at his from under her cropped bangs. "Come on then." She said softly as if calling to a child.

The day drifted along lazily as the van zoomed across state, heading to the residence of the widow of the victim of the new case they had been working on for the past few days so that they could question her. Her husband had been found dead two nights ago in a hotel room in a different part of town. They were to question the widow to see if she had knowledge to why he was located there. Jane quietly stared out the window at the passing scenery in the front passengers seat of Lisbon's van, his mind wandering vaguely.

The van slowed down as they began reaching the city traffic, and Jane glanced over at Lisbon who had a bemused smirk on her face, her eyes set on the cars in front of her. Patrick narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "What are you so pleased about?" Jane asked. "It can't be the traffic… can it?"

Lisbon glanced at him, her eyes widening a bit as if surprised that he had broken the silence and brought her out of her reverie. "Oh, nothing Jane, I was just thinking about something else." She said mysteriously, her eyes returning to the road in front of her as the van inched along. Jane watched as her fingers tightened over the wheel as she readjusted her hold on it.

Jane cocked his head, "Something else… which is…" Jane trailed off, waiting for her to elaborate.

"Never you mind."

Jane smirked squinting in the sunlight at her expression, "Why Lisbon, I think you're blushing."

"I'm not either." She said defensively. "It's just the light from the sun."

"Even if you had come up with a better excuse, I'd still think you were lying." Jane said teasingly.

Lisbon rolled her eyes in reply, showing her exasperation with him.

"Mm, I wonder…" Jane said. There was silence, as he resumed staring out the window…. Wait for it… Wait for it…

"Wonder what Jane?" Lisbon asked, taking his bait. She glanced over at him. "What?"

Patrick smiled slowly.

"Sheepdip." She murmured under her breath. "Oh, I get it. You're just playing some of your psycho mind-games on me aren't you?"

Jane's grin widened.

"Uh-huh, I thought so. You know what? You spent an awful lot of time studying that crap. I suppose you must have had a lot of idle time on your hands to play around with magic tricks while I was working my butt off actually studying and working." Lisbon jabbed.

"Oh, no reason to start getting on the attack to defuse and distract from your own sticky situation that makes you blush so." Jane replied carelessly.

"Shut up Jane." Lisbon said, but she still smiled despite herself.

"Pay-raise?"

"Nope."

"Promotion?"

"No."

"Hmmm…"

"Jane, just shut up."

Fifteen minutes later they were riding up to the residence of Mrs. Scott. She had a nice three-story home, all-brick, with white shutters. The engine died as Lisbon removed the key from the ignition. "It's funny isn't it?" Patrick commented as he grabbed his jacket that he had lazily strewn over the car seat from the heat. "The fact only rich people get murdered. I suppose because they are all a bunch of liars and cheaters- it comes with the territory, just like paparazzi and celebrity."

Lisbon rolled her eyes, leaning back into her car seat to look at him. "Rich people get murdered, because they have a lot of money, and someone else wants it a lot." Lisbon corrected. She opened her door and slammed it close, walking toward the house.

Jane considered this as he pulled on his suit and nodded, then opened his door. Trotting up the sidewalk toward her. "Or they're liars and cheaters." He repeated.

"Just because you were, doesn't mean everyone else is." Lisbon said patronizingly.

"Oh, sure it does. It just means that they're smart liars and cheaters."

"Don't flatter yourself." Lisbon pushed the door bell and they both stood, waiting for the door to open with their hands behind their backs.

Jane glanced around at the lawn. The flower-beds were neat, and the earth had recently been toiled. Jane's guess was the wife, and unless the husband had been killed by a spade, Jane was quite certain that it hadn't been by her hand. Peaceful people were typically the ones who gardened… but also someone who was deeply troubled and needed something to tend to… The door opened, and Jane turned back around to see the widow. She was a nice-looking blond woman, dressed in relaxed clothing, and very minimal makeup, as if she had been crying earlier, but her eyes were not red. So it had not been recently.

"Mrs. Scott? CBI. I'm Teresa Lisbon and this is my consultant, Patrick Jane." As Lisbon showed her the badge, Jane watched the woman closely as she glanced at him curiously, recognition glittering in his eyes as she beckoned them inside.

Jane swept the room with his eyes as she led them through to the sitting room. It was a little cluttered. Blue walls with feminine assets obviously chosen by the wife. He was bending to look at the picture of the man and wife sitting together. Mrs. Scott and Mr. Scott both sat stiffly beside one another, with fixed smiles on their faces.

"Patrick Jane…" Mrs. Scott said. Jane stood up and turned to face her. "Weren't you on Karen Cross the other day?" The woman asked, staring at Jane with striking blue eyes.

He smiled, "Well, yes, actually I was."

"You were amazing." Mrs. Scott said, shaking her head in disbelief. "I mean, at first, I wondered if you were all there or not," She chuckled in embarrassment, "But that's just because I wasn't sure what you were doing. I'd never seen anything like that before in my life. It was incredible."

Jane shrugged modestly, "Thank you."

"Well, if there's one person I trust to solve the case, it's you, Mr. Jane."

Lisbon had an annoyed look on her face, which caused Jane to smirk at her with amusement.

"So, Mrs. Scott, do you mind telling us the last time you spoke to your husband?" Lisbon interrupted sharply.

"Oh, yes. Of course." Mrs. Scott replied, her eyebrows contracting into a momentarily pained expression.

"He said he was leaving on one of his business trips last weekend, and not to expect him until Monday. When Monday came and went, naturally I wondered what happened, but… Never in my life did I imagine…" Her eyes began to tear up and she sniffed, wiping them away. Jane watched her skeptically.

"Did he go on business trips often, was this a normal thing for him?" Lisbon asked.

"He went on them more frequently in the past year, but yes…"

Jane had heard enough to sum up his thoughts, so he wandered into the other room, touring the rest of the house. She was a bit messy, especially in certain areas in the house, which suggested to Patrick, great frustration and inner turmoil that she had displayed outwardly. She obviously stayed home a lot. It looked as if she had taken up various hobbies, and besides gardening (he had found her tools stacked in a bucket inside a closet), she appeared to have tried crocheting, but found it too tedious. Older photos of the married couple suggested that there had been closeness at one time, but there was a lot of love lost.

He was just about to reach the kitchen when Lisbon's voice rang out, "Jane!"

Patrick made his way through the house back toward the front door. Mrs. Scott looked at him with a small frown. "Come on, let's go." Lisbon said at his appearance.

Jane nodded, "Alright." Lisbon began her way out the door, toward the van, and Mrs. Scott stopped Patrick with a light touch on his elbow. "Mr. Jane?" Mrs. Scott said, her blue eyes looking at him searchingly. "Maybe… maybe you would like to come over for dinner sometime?" She said uncertainly, brushing her hair back from her face. Jane smiled which encouraged her to do the same. Mrs. Scott, grabbed a nearby notepad, and wrote down her number, giving him the slip of paper to keep.

Jane took it, and nodded not intending to seriously take her up on her offer, "Good-bye Mrs. Scott." Jane said. "Call me Ashley, please." She replied with a hopeful glimmer in her eyes.

A few moments later, Jane hurried out to the van which was already running in Lisbon's impatience. It was starting to sprinkle as he climbed into the front passengers seat and Lisbon looked at him. "What kept you?" She asked. "Did Mrs. Scott ask you for your autograph?"

Jane smiled softly at her tease. Lisbon might actually be getting better at reading people than he thought. It was obvious that Mrs. Scott was an opportunist and liked being associated with people of power or prestige. "She asked me to call her Ashley, and no, she didn't ask me for anything. She gave me something." Jane replied.

"What did she give you?" Lisbon asked.

"I'll tell you if you tell me." Jane said.

"Tell you what?" Lisbon looked taken aback.

"What was making you smile earlier." Jane replied with a grin.

Lisbon gave him an irritated look as she pulled out of the driveway and drove rather jerkily around the corner, as the windshield wipers violently swept away the rain droplets. Jane sat back, watching her in amusement as they headed on their way back to the CBI.

A/N:

…To be continued?

I'd really appreciate your feedback!