A.N: Hello readers! For those of you that have read Heat part 1 I apoligize for not putting up part 2 yet. Life has been crazy and I promise to put it up as soon as I can. In the mean time, here is "When the fire died" to hold you over. Please leave a review!
He stood in the middle of the room, his face set in silent furry and his eyes cold. Closing them, his mind thought over the many days that went by before this moment. It's easy now to find what went wrong and yet still harder to find what could have made it all right. She still believed in him, and today…right now especially, she showed him that sometimes she can see right through all of his empty lies.
It doesn't matter though.
The devil that he's been dancing with, tangoing with in such an intimate and blood-lusted passion, was finally dead.
Her face was bland but she was trembling. Red John was sitting on a dark leather chair, his eyes steeling the life out of hers.
She killed him before he could.
He opened his eyes to see that she was looking at him. Looking at him but not really seeing him. The fire that was once there was gone; dying the moment she pulled the trigger and killed him.
It angered him.
Not in the way he thought is would, he wasn't angry that he wasn't the one to kill Red John, it angered that in death Red John killed Lisbon's fire, claiming her spirit and he hated it.
He hated it because even though Red John is dead…he still claimed a victim…even though he lost this sick game that he and himself were playing…it still felt like he won.
"Jane…" she whispered.
Without a word he walked over to her and embraced her.