Red Hands

Rated: PG

Spoilers: Season 1 finale Red John's Footsteps.

Summary: Jane tells Lisbon he's sorry. Takes place after season 1 finale, Red John's Footsteps.

Disclaimer: I don't own Mentalist.

AN: Well, I've become totally addicted to this show. I can't say enough about the depth and realness of the characters, the themes of justice and how justice should be carried out... Anyway, this is my first Mentalist fic. You can check out my other stories for other categories, mostly Stargate SG1 if you like. Thanks so much for reading and hope you enjoy this little ditty. Sorry it's not very long. Most of my work is one shots...

Best wishes and lots of love,

Christine

000

Even though his eyes were closed and his body relaxed, Patrick Jane was not asleep. The brown leather of the couch creaked as he deepened his breathes and focused on his surroundings. Ever since he'd gone through the experience of being temporarily blinded by the bomb, he liked to practice heightening his other senses.

Only Lisbon was left in the office, so he first focused on the sounds coming from her office – the sipping of coffee, typing, papers shuffling, the sound of her breathing. After a couple moments, however, he noticed that the noises, aside from her breathing, had stopped. He certainly hadn't heard her leave. Jane opened his eyes and quietly got up from his couch to investigate. He tried to peak through the blinds over her office windows so he wouldn't disturb her.

Concern flashed through him when he saw her simply sitting at her desk, leaning back in her chair, staring into space. Jane moved to the doorway and watched her. She still wasn't aware of his presence.

"Lisbon?" he said softly. "You okay?"

Despite his best intentions she looked startled but covered it quickly.

"What do you want, Jane?"

"Oh, me?" he pointed to himself. "Nothing. What do you want?" he threw back at her in his unusual but completely planned way.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you," Teresa admitted.

Jane was surprised by her answer. He moved further into the room and sat on the edge of her desk close to her. "What did you want to talk about?"

"What happened with Hardy."

"I killed him," Jane said looking her straight in the eyes.

"Yes, you did," Lisbon stared back at him.

"He had a gun pointed at you Lisbon. He was going to shoot you. There's nothing I would change about what I did."

"Hey, it's not that I'm not grateful, but I'm worried about you, Jane. You've never shot anyone before. I just... I remember the first time I shot someone. It was during my first week as a cop. It was... awful. I just want to make sure you're okay. If you need to talk about it or... what? Why are you smiling?"

Jane was indeed smiling down at her. But it was a sad smile. "Lisbon, you never cease to amaze me."

"What? I thought you said you knew everything about me."

"Oh, come now, we both know that's not true. I mean some things I've gathered, but still. You are indeed a wonder."

"Why? You don't think I have cause to be concerned about you? Just because Hardy was a sick murderer, doesn't make it any easier. Despite the fact that he had information about Red John, it's not easy watching someone die, especially by your own hand."

"Lisbon, how many times have you saved my life?"

Lisbon shrugged. "A few. I guess."

"Quite a few. Time after time, I get ten steps ahead of myself, end up at the end of a lunatic's gun barrel, and then, poof, there you are."

"Yeah, so?"

"So you're worried about me having one man's blood on my hands when, because of me, you're hands are practically dripping."

Lisbon looked away from him.

"Jane, it's my job."

Jane held out his hands in surrender. "I know, I know," he nodded. "I just want to say... I'm sorry. I know you can handle it. You're like a rock, always so steady. But still... For what it's worth... I am sorry, Teresa."

"I know," she accepted.

Jane left her with a warm pat on her shoulder, heading back to his couch. Lisbon didn't resume her work though. Their little chat had only confirmed the one thing she feared. Jane was not shaken enough by Hardy's death which meant if he ever got his hands on Red John, there would be a second man's blood on his hands. And it would be on her hands too for not being able to stop him.