Author's Note: The season finale got me thinking about might happen when Jane finally finds Red John.
Disclaimer: This is done for the love of the characters and the show. I own nothing but my own words.
Choices in Blood
Patrick Jane held the knife he had swiped from the kitchen behind his back, out of sight. The man, the monster, who had terrified California for almost a decade under the name Red John stood in front of Jane, laughing as he held his own knife to the young woman's neck. Jane felt the coppery tang of his bit lip in his mouth, and the heavy pounding of his heart. The rush of blood in his ears sounded like the wings of a thousand beasts filled with rage. His vision narrowed, the fury in his heart consuming his mind. All he could see was the man in front of him, and taste his vengeance at hand. There was a fierce, terrifying joy in his soul that his moment was finally here.
Time seemed to slow and lengthen for Jane. He saw the woman's wince of pain as the knife at her neck pressed into her skin, a slight trickle of scarlet at the knife's point. She was so scared, so terrified, she could barely breathe. Her whimpers turned to a muffled shriek behind the gag as her captor yanked her hair, lengthening her neck for the slaughter. Jane could see her tears glisten as they trailed from her wide, terrified eyes.
"Freeze!" a strong female voice demanded. Lisbon stepped out of the shadows behind Jane, Cho a step behind her. To either side of Red John, Rigsby and Van Pelt moved out, guns aimed and ready. The CBI agents fanned around their target, blocking all avenues of escape. Red John snarled as he realized he was surrounded. Jane felt a cold smile form on his lips as he stared at the man who had taken everything from him.
"Drop the knife," Lisbon said in false calm, her eyes darting between Red John and Patrick Jane. Jane stood stiffly and didn't move, glaring with cold fury at the serial killer. Red John seemed to only have eyes for Jane, and Lisbon felt the potential for disaster in the air crawl along her skin. Lisbon felt a pulse of terror when she realized just how close Jane was to the mad man. Too close.
"Jane, move back," Lisbon ordered. Jane didn't move.
Red John's lip curled in a silent snarl. Realizing he had no way out, he yanked the knife viciously across the woman's neck, sending a red spray into the air. He then lunged for Jane, intent on taking his nemesis down with him.
Before the CBI agents could react, Red John reached Patrick Jane and moved his hand to stab the blond man. Suddenly he froze and took a shaky breath before falling back in shock. He looked to his belly, and could barely comprehend the red liquid leaking through his shirt and dripping down to the floor. His hand covered the spreading stain in a futile gesture. Van Pelt darted forward and pressed one hand to the hostage's neck, trying to stop the bleeding while Rigsby moved to cover her.
Jane had seen Red John leap, and moved the knife so Red John impaled himself on the kitchen knife. Jane could feel the flesh part and give way, noted the instant of resistance as the knife hit the muscle layer and sudden release as the blade then cut deeply into the abdomen. His rage drove him to look deep into the murder's eyes, and then he twisted the knife before slashing to the side, cutting him open with a smile turned cruel with hate. The wound was too short to disembowel, but had done significant internal damage. Jane's cold eyes kept staring into Red John's. One of them would die today, and Jane began to realize it might not be him.
The serial killer roared in pain before again raising his own knife in a shaking hand, and took one step forward again to the blond consultant with murder in his mind. Patrick didn't move, just stared into the face of the man he hated with holy passion.
Shots rang out.
The monster called Red John jerked, first left then right. His mouth gaped open in shock before he collapsed to the ground. In the instant after the guns fired, the CBI agents didn't move, but Jane fearlessly and recklessly stepped forward to gaze into the murder's eyes. Jane clutched his bloody kitchen knife in his hand, knuckles white. Jane barely noticed as Rigsby and Cho moved to help Van Pelt with the woman.
Lisbon watched Jane warily, her gun ready and trained on the dying man at Jane's feet even as she called outside for backup and an ambulance. She stepped to Jane's side, and looked down at the man they had hunted for so long and who had cost her friend so much.
He didn't look like much, bleeding on the basement floor. Average build, forgettable face, non-threatening in every way but the one that counted. Red John gasped slightly, blood bubbling from his mouth. He was choking on it, drowning in his own fluids. The three CBI agents hadn't missed, and gun shots had taken him in the upper stomach, chest and back. The murderer looked surprised, with none of his trademark arrogance in these last moments. Jane just stared, and didn't look away until long after the last wheeze slipped past the dying man's lips, and his eyes rolled sightlessly.
"Jane?" Lisbon said, and touched the blond man's arm. Jane jerked in surprise, and their eyes locked. Lisbon couldn't make out the welter of emotions on Jane's face. There was anger, satisfaction, hate, relief, terror. Jane took a deep breath and flung the knife he still held before running past the incoming police and EMTs outside. Lisbon paused a moment, her eyes finding Cho. Cho eyes flicked to the fleeing man and nodded briefly at his boss before calling the EMT's over. The woman was struggling weakly, but still moving.
Lisbon followed Jane upstairs and found him on his knees outside, retching into the grass. She knelt by him, placed her hand on his back, and just waited. No words were spoken. She felt her friend shaking, and understood the intense welter of emotion Jane had to be feeling. When Jane finally leaned back and looked up at the darkening sky, Lisbon waved one of the swarming EMT's over. Jane didn't even resist as he was wrapped in a blanket and led to the back of one of the ambulances, pale and shivering.
The petite agent stood up and watched as the medical personnel loaded the woman into an ambulance, her face almost buried under dressings, and gave a satisfied nod as the truck sped away to the hospital. Lisbon turned and walked back into the non-descript house and down into the basement. Already, the forensic people were cordoning off the area. Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt were giving statements to the new officers and turning in their guns in standard procedure after a police fatal shooting. Lisbon wasn't worried about the inevitable investigation of the shooting by internal affairs—this was a good shooting, if there was such a thing.
Lisbon walked over to the body on the floor. The coroner hadn't arrived yet, so he lay forgotten in his own gore, gazing sightlessly into space. One of the most successful serial killers in California history lay dead on the floor. He maybe wasn't as well known outside the state as others, but he was so much more a personal target to the CBI agents here tonight. The last victim would likely survive, the murderer was dead, and more importantly, Patrick Jane was still alive. She had always secretly wondered since that fateful day years ago when Jane had shot his only lead to save Lisbon's life, if Patrick Jane really would choose life.
"Jane won, you bastard," Lisbon said softly to the dead man. She then turned and walked back outside. In the evening air, she watched the local cops and medical people flutter around. Lisbon spotted the ambulance holding Patrick Jane, and blue eyes captured green. The blond man gave a shaky smile across the space between them, and Lisbon felt her heart skip a beat, and smiled back. He was still too pale, and clutched the blanket around him a little too tightly, but Lisbon was deeply thankful he was still here.
Lisbon didn't fully realize it, but Jane had been ready to die tonight, even eager. His own life still meant nothing to him in the grand scheme of things, but he wasn't ready to entirely abandon those who cared about him either. Still, Patrick Jane hadn't been able to choose life tonight, but in the years since he shot that last direct link to Red John, Patrick Jane had planned for this moment. He knew himself well enough to admit he would never choose his own life over that of getting Red John, but that didn't mean he couldn't have a backup plan.
When push came to shove, he had trusted his friends to choose for him.