Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm merely borrowing The Mentalist characters for fun and amusement.

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Jane was uneasy. The subtle fragrance of the evening's breeze as he drove down the freeway might have made him smile as recently as last week. And yet now he was on edge. His recent experimentation with the belladonna had not gone well. He'd only wanted to talk to Charlotte again, but what he had experienced was a horrible evening of nightmares and macabre hallucinations. He'd dumped the tea the next morning and hoped everything might return to some sort of equilibrium.

But who was he kidding? He'd been uneasy ever since he realized Red John knew Lisbon was important to him. It had put a brand new gnawing dread in his gut that never quite went away, adding more weight to the crushing guilt he already lived with. To make matters worse, he knew his drug induced Charlotte was right about going forward with his life - that he was wasting precious time. But he remained terrified of moving forward and what that might mean for anyone he tried to love.

He paused at a red light and unconsciously rubbed his wedding ring. It occurred to him that he might be nothing but a terrible coward. Lisbon deserved better, he told himself, and he knew he'd put her in some measure of danger already. What kind of a man does that to the people he cares about?

Lisbon, his Lisbon. She was magnificent, really, everything he wanted in a woman and a genuinely good person. Brave, honest, unselfish. Still more amazing, she knew him and still seemed fond of him - he was certain of that much. But did she really care for him? Was her affection borne of pity and kindness, rather than true attraction? He couldn't tell for sure, and that wasn't like him. Could she even imagine a life with him? Surely she was smarter than that, he chided himself. She could do so much better.

The blare of a horn sounded behind him, interrupting his unproductive ruminations. The light had turned green some time ago and he quickly pressed the accelerator down. As he eased the car back to cruising speed, his phone rang. He glanced at the display before speaking.

"Hello Lisbon!" he answered cheerfully, smiling in spite of his brooding thoughts.

His delight vanished immediately when he heard her voice whisper, "He's here, Jane."

"Where?" Jane's skin started to tingle and the hair stood up on the back of his neck.

"My apartment." Her voice was so quiet he had to strain to hear.

"I'm on my way, Lisbon. I'll bring the team."

"Hurry," came the whispered answer and then the beeping sound of disconnection rang in his ear.

"No!" Jane smacked the steering wheel in frustration. He quickly dialed another number.

"Jane?" Cho answered, surprised.

"Cho, Red John is in Lisbon's apartment. I'm on my way there – I'm about five minutes out."

"Rigsby's right here with me. On our way," he answered, and Jane knew they would be there as soon as possible, hopefully soon enough. After years of pursuing Red John, this was happening so unexpectedly and out of the blue, too fast for him to get his balance. Why now? He floored the Citroen and desperately wished he had someone or something to pray to.

...

Jane leapt out of his car and scanned the surrounding area as he trotted toward Lisbon's apartment. He saw nothing suspicious outside and there was no sign of Cho and Rigsby yet. When he reached her front door, it was unlocked and already open just a crack. His heart pounded wildly and he took several deep breaths to calm himself. He had no plan and no real inkling of what was about to transpire. Everything would hang in the balance here, he was sure of it, and he needed to have his wits about him. At least it would be over, he thought, and he could not fail this time.

He pushed the door open slowly and peered into the living room. Nothing. He slipped silently inside, senses hyper aware, and made his way across the room. Lisbon's shoes were strewn casually on the floor, her jacket draped over the back of the couch. A can of Coke sat on the coffee table with beads of sweat dripping down its sides. It was still cold – Red John had not been here long.

Then he heard it. A muffled voice. Sheer terror rose in him and he quickly fought it back down. There was no time for panic, he told himself. He moved silently up the stairs toward her bedroom and the voice gradually became louder. Red John was talking, but Jane heard no reply.

He reached the top of the stairs only to find the bedroom door closed. Jane felt a suffocating dread as he stared at the door, and a wave of nausea rolled up his gut. He still only heard one voice, and it was Red John's. It required every ounce of self control he had to make his hand turn the door knob. He slowly opened the door, and forced himself to look.

Red John stood hear the left wall of the bedroom, maybe a dozen feet from Jane. He was a slight man, unremarkable looking, really. He held a handgun trained on Lisbon, who was standing by her bed, a scant six feet to the right of Jane, and he allowed himself a nanosecond of relief at the sight of her. Lisbon's eyes were focused intently on Red John and she appeared unharmed. Neither Red John or Lisbon broke their gaze to look at Jane.

"Hello, Patrick," Red John cooed in his crazy calm voice. "I've been expecting you."

Jane surveyed the room and noticed that Lisbon still wore her holstered handgun. She held her hands tense at her sides.

"You okay, Lisbon?" he asked calmly.

"I've been better," she quipped without looking at him. This woman was made of steel.

He rapidly thought through the situation, and decided she'd most likely refused to take her gun off. She knew Red John wanted Jane to be here to witness whatever was going to happen, and that he would not simply shoot her unless absolutely forced. Smart girl, his Lisbon. She'd bought time.

"I'm so glad to see you again, Patrick. I wasn't planning on seeing you this soon, but the moon's phases were such that I knew it was time to act.

'Let us agree to give up love,
And root up the Infernal Grove;
Then shall we return and see
The worlds of happy Eternity.'

'I knew this would be the day you see what I can provide you. You'll see how important my quest is. You will join me today, my friend."

"Why do you think that?" Jane stalled, as he ran through the possibilities in his head. He was so close. If he went for Red John, he might shoot Lisbon, but then Jane would have the seconds needed to disarm Red John. He could get his hands on the man's throat so he could squeeze the life out of this monster slowly, with his bare hands. Jane wanted that so very, very badly. But Lisbon would likely be harmed, maybe even killed.

If he leapt toward Lisbon, he could block Red John's shot and there was an outside chance it would allow her time to pull her weapon and fire on Red John. If she didn't, Red John might kill her with a second shot. He absently wondered how much a gunshot hurt before you died. He wanted a better option - surely there was one. In time, he might figure something out, but time was something he did not have.

"Today you will understand the joy I felt as I put my knife into your daughter…the exhilaration I felt as I saw the fear in her green eyes. In her moment of pain, she cried out, "Daddy! Help me!" He paused to let that sink in. "Did you know that, Patrick?"

Jane was now trembling with rage, and he glanced quickly at Lisbon, whose eyes remained focused on Red John. He steeled himself for what he had to do. He must strike quickly and unexpectedly to stop this maniac.

Red John took note of the glance.

"I have you now, don't I, Patrick. You will come to me. Do you want to know what your wife said as I…"

Now! Jane decided. He took one quick stride and launched himself with every ounce of his strength into the space between Red John and Lisbon. "I'm sorry!" he shouted, as his body flew in front of hers.

The sound of a gunshot split the air, and then there was blackness.