Title: Red Sands of Time
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Red John, Death
Summary: Five times Red John eluded Death and the time he finally caught up with him.
Disclaimer: I do not own Discworld or The Mentalist. This piece was not written for profit, merely for amusement.
Notes: Five times (+ one) fic, set out in the format of 6 true drabbles. Written for Miss Peg as a part of the Paint It Red Great Stocking Exchange 2012.
Red Sands of Time
i.
It was his father's idea.
Throw him into the sea, let him sink or swim. Children either have natural buoyancy or they'll learn to do a doggy-paddle, or so he said.
John did neither.
He sunk like a stone.
He coughed and spluttered as saltwater got up his nose, into every orifice and filled his lungs. And it was at that moment when he saw him.
Death.
The skeletal figure, in black robes with sparkling blue eyes and a razor sharp scythe appeared directly in front of him.
And winked.
Only then, was he pulled out to live another day.
ii.
John was thirteen, the day he crashed his father's car.
A precocious child, he'd taught himself to drive before either of his parents knew about it.
Being precocious made him cocky.
And that was what caused the accident.
He broke his legs and ruptured an artery.
Pain, nausea, light-headedness and shock followed.
Once again, there was the presence of the skeletal figure. Watching, as if he were waiting for the key moment.
John was lucky.
A doctor was following in the next car. He managed to stem the blood flow, save his life.
It gave him a fascination with blood.
iii.
This is only the second murder that he had carried out under his brand new pseudonym.
Red John.
And it had all been going so well. Janet Peakes had fought when he wanted her to and given up at precisely the right moment. It was this thrill that had driven him.
But then, the husband came home early.
He wasn't due back until morning.
John swore he heard a sigh of disappointment when Carter Peakes fell to his feet.
Whirling around, with knife in hand, he saw his old friend, Death.
Once again he'd eluded him and it felt good.
iv.
John hated it when situations got out of control.
John had always believed he had some sort of a monopoly over California, but Sacramento especially.
No other serial killer would have the audacity to face him on his home turf. So, when some cocksure kid emerged on his territory, John had to deal with him.
He never expected it to end in a shoot-out, but in the death of the kid.
Guns blazed around him, people dropped like flies.
Death was a very busy… skeleton… today.
The kid suddenly appeared before him.
But his right-hand man took the bullet instead.
v.
Patrick Jane was getting closer and closer to him.
Like Death himself, John could feel the man's noose tightening around his neck.
And like Jane, he saw Death around every corner.
Of course, he could have been forgiven for thinking it was some kind of a sign.
Red John had always been in control of his own destiny. The thought of losing that control practically made him lose his mind.
Therefore, it was only natural that he decided to take control of his own death, much like his own life.
He made his plans.
Said his goodbyes.
But somebody intervened.
vi.
If he couldn't kill himself, Red John knew he had to take control in other ways.
That meant taking down the CBI's Serious Crimes Unit one by one.
The constant shadow of Death continued to follow him, just as he expected. However, he knew he was playing a dangerous game.
Again, the situation got out of his control.
They figured it out.
Who he was.
What he was.
Guns were drawn on him from all around.
Shots were fired.
Several hit, from whom, he did not know.
The world faded.
Death winked at him.
I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU, MR….
