AN: Whoa. This is going to be a two-parter so I can incorporate Jane's point of view. Don't ask me how I feel about the episode – I'm not sure. It was intense, no doubt there. And let's just hope when Bruno said they were going to tear Jane and Lisbon apart before they were put back together that this is what he meant because I'm not sure how much more angst I can take.
Also, I'm not sure how much I can in regards to waiting for the next episode, but that's a whole 'nother story, right CBS?
Remember, if you're bored, I'm on Twitter as starrynineteen. The Mentalist crowd there is pretty awesome, although sometimes we just shriek about our feelings.
Roads and Retribution
She was going to kill him.
That was all there was to it.
Assuming, of course, the damned idiot wasn't dead by the time she got there.
Fear washed down her spine again, and she picked up her pace.
Jane had picked an excellent spot to leave her in; she was miles from anywhere. No phone, no means of contacting anyone. To make everything better, night had completely fallen over the coast. She wasn't afraid of the dark, not by any means, but years of being a cop had made her edgy when it came to not being able to see all of her surroundings.
It wasn't like Red John was the only serial killer in the state of California, either. Another flare of anger blossomed inside her. Did Jane even think about that? There were plenty of evil people in this world that could be driving down this road and think she was an easy target. Yes, she was armed, but that was beside the point.
In frustration, she kicked at a piece of loose gravel along the shoulder. The son of a bitch.
How dare he do this?
Her head was spinning. She had been wound so tightly in anticipation of what was going to happen tonight that she thought she was going to crack. She was scared – scared of who Red John was going to be, scared of what Jane was going to do, scared of what might happen to him.
She had a feeling that had made her an easy target for Jane.
You have no idea what you've meant to me. What you mean to me.
Said with the perfect amount of inflection and emotion to make her treacherous heart stutter in her chest, her always-repressed feelings rising rapidly to the surface.
And then she had been in his arms, her chin on his shoulder, his fingers pressed tightly against her back. Unlike the other times she had been here, she was brave enough to really return his embrace.
After all of these years, here they were. Jane was admitting his feelings, the setting sun serving as a backdrop, no less. She could feel the scrape of his stubble against her cheek, feel the heat of his body where it touched hers.
What you mean to me.
This was really happening.
Just say it, she wanted to scream. Just say it. After ten years she thought she was entitled to hear the words. Hear them and know that he meant them. That he wouldn't pretend to forget.
Instead, he tightened his hold, hand sliding down her back, and she decided that she would take what she could get. At least this time Jane wasn't pointing a gun at her.
When he pulled back, she was sure her face gave away her own feelings, but did it really matter at this point? In the middle of all of this uncertainty and fear, here was this moment of bliss, this collection of precious minutes where she and Jane got to be together, if only abstractly.
And then the son of a bitch drove off without her.
She had felt betrayal from him before but it did not make it easier this time.
Was it all a lie? Did he mean anything he said? Of course, he didn't precisely say anything, just that she meant something to him. She already knew that. What, she wasn't sure of. But she had hoped…
No, again. It was just Jane being himself. Secretive, manipulative.
He knew very well how she felt about him, and he had used it to his advantage. His words had thrown her off guard, scrambled her brain long enough for him to steal her phone and then escape.
This was a first for him – using how she felt against her.
God, was there no low he wouldn't stoop to? No line he wouldn't cross to get what he wanted?
Her heart cracked a tiny bit more as she watched the Citroen speed off into the sunset, so beautiful just a few minutes before, now as cold and flat and gray as she felt.
Damn him. Damn him straight to hell.
There was a moment when she considered screaming in frustration. What the hell was she supposed to do now? Jane was on his way to confront his last five suspects, armed with a shotgun. Regardless of what Jane thought, there was no way this was going to end in the way he thought it would.
He had been so untethered these past few weeks, like he was simply making his moves at random. It was as if, this close to the end, he had abandoned all pretenses of strategy and was just winging everything. It was deeply unsettling, considering his usual methods of operation.
He was being driven by revenge, but it was no longer a calculated plot, and that scared her more than anything. If there was one thing she thought she could count on, it was Jane not doing anything without thinking the consequences out. This, tonight, could end in his death. He would have to be an idiot to not realize that.
Then she wondered if he had been telling her goodbye. If he hadn't meant what he'd said. If his confession hadn't been real. Serving a dual purpose, yes, but true nonetheless. In the same vein, she briefly considered the idea that he was trying to keep her safe by doing the one thing that would probably ensure she wasn't there when he revealed Red John.
She swallowed. Hard.
Taking a deep breath, she began jogging down the side of the road. Surely there would be someone coming along soon. She needed to get to Malibu, needed to get some police on scene.
She had spent the past ten years of her life trying to protect Patrick Jane, and he did not just get to abandon her and drive off to his death. She wouldn't allow it.
Even if her heart was a little broken. But that was sort of a normal state when it came to dealing with him. She had almost gotten used to the feeling. Being in love with someone who was basically untouchable would do that to a person. He was so distant sometimes, so above her. It was impossible to know what he really thought, what his true feelings were. She could imagine that he loved her all she wanted, but then he would go and do something like sleep with Lorelei Martins. Or leave her on the roadside.
God, her shoes were not meant to jog any sort of distance in. However, she couldn't stop. Jane needed her there, even if he didn't think so.
She had lied to him when she said she would let him pull the trigger. Of course, he knew that. Jane knew her better than anyone. There was no way she intended to let that happen. In front of four other witnesses, there would be no escaping murder charges, nor the fact that he had brought five men together for the specific purpose of killing one of them. That meant the death penalty would be on the table, and she had fought too hard to lose Jane to this. To lose him to Red John, too.
Didn't he see that? That it would be one last victory for the serial killer? Or didn't he see that it would kill her, too? Did he care? Was he really that selfish?
She would stop him from doing something that would take him away from her. It crossed her mind that he might not forgive her from preventing the vengeance he had worked so hard to get. That was something to deal with later, however. He would get over it in time. Red John, whoever he was, would be put on trial, would be found guilty, would be executed.
It would all be over.
Jane would have time to see that she had done the right thing. And, more importantly, he would have time to see it from someplace that wasn't behind bars.
She stumbled over an uneven patch of rock, invisible to her in the darkness, and she cursed herself. Really, how stupid could she possibly be?
I have a surprise for you. Yeah, right. Where was he hiding it in the car, Teresa? Next to the shot gun?
She had just been so damn blinded, so certain she was about to get what she had wanted for so long that she had forgotten that this was Jane, and nothing was ever the way it looked. She should have learned that years ago. Had Las Vegas taught her nothing?
By the time the third car passed her by, she was ready to shoot someone. Hell, it was possible the Red John suspects were driving by her. God, what if Bertram stopped, or Haffner? Would she get in the car? How would she explain herself? Jane left me by the side of the road so I can't stop him from killing one of you tonight. Yeah, that sounded great.
There was a long stretch of time where there were no headlights to be seen anywhere, and in the total darkness of the night, she knew she was rapidly running out of time. Drastic measures needed to be taken.
Looking back, she couldn't believe she had actually taken some poor man's car. And his phone. That was something she had seen done in the movies but had never known any police officer to do in real life. She didn't have the luxury of caring, though. Not right now. Later, there would be plenty of time to feel guilty. Hopefully.
When Jane hung up, she felt her throat close in something close to panic. She was still too far away. She wasn't going to make it.
The beach house was dark, totally and completely. As she ran to the door, she vividly remembered the last time she had been here, her last resort to pull Jane out of his fugue state. It had worked, and, at the time, she had hoped to never come back to this place. It was full of the worst memories she could imagine.
It also represented everything that held Jane back, kept him from moving on, a tomb for a living man. And he had chosen this place to end his chase for Red John, back where it all began a decade ago.
A chill of pure foreboding crawled up her spine. Nothing was ever going to be the same after tonight. They were going to know.
The beginning of the end, as it were.
You have no idea what you mean to me.
The sliding doors were locked, too. Damn it, she would start breaking windows if she had to.
Turning, she saw the path that would take her to his old psychic office…and the cars belonging to the suspects.
Maybe, maybe there was still time. She didn't hear gun shots or yelling, nothing that said irreparable damage had been done.
Running now, she took one final second to pray that Jane could be saved.
And then the world exploded.
AN: Jane is up next, so stay tuned! He has some explaining to do, let me tell you what…