A/N: Hello! Welcome to the third collaboration between waterbaby134 and me. Continuing the tradition we began last year with our post-finale fic, "Scarlet Woman," we thought we'd try our hand this year with the newest bombshells they left us with. It picks up right where 5x22 ended, so if you haven't seen it yet, prepare to be spoiled. There are some really dark moments here as well as some light-hearted, so be prepared for that. At any rate, we hope you enjoy our newest effort. The first chapter was written by me…
Red Roulette
Chapter 1
"Let's take a walk, Lisbon," said Jane, after staring out the window for ten minutes, while he felt the weight of Lisbon's own stare on his back.
"A walk?" she said, still numb from the image of the ghost of Lorelei Martins.
Jane looked around the attic. "The walls have ears here." He nodded toward the seven pictures of Red John suspects, five of whom had full access to CBI Headquarters. "And eyes."
Outside, they walked slowly to the coffee cart parked outside the building, picked up a tea and sweet black coffee and strolled toward the park a block away.
"How did he know?" she asked finally.
"I have a couple of theories."
"You mind sharing with the class?" she said tightly. She felt like she was barely hanging on to her sanity here. She was frightened. Terrified. Red John was someone she knew, someone she too had probably shaken hands with. Maybe even someone she'd gone to lunch with, or played poker with. She cringed at the thought.
"Well, obviously it was a trick," said Jane. "The DVD was doctored."
"What? What do you mean?"
"About three weeks ago, someone broke into the attic and no doubt took pictures and notes about what was on my Red John board."
"Oh, really? How could they, given your paranoid padlocking?"
"Mr. Paranoid here used the old toothpick gag. It was on the floor, snapped in two at the end of the day. Same day the air conditioner repairmen came in. There's no air conditioning in the attic."
"Who do you think it was?"
Jane shrugged. "Somebody on that list, or someone who works for somebody on that list."
"So you're saying Red John altered that video and made it seem like he'd read your mind."
"Yeah. Usually the simplest explanation is the right one, yes?"
"Usually."
"Red John wants me to think he's one step ahead of me. Yeah, I got a lucky break because Lorelei had a big mouth, but Red John is one of my seven, I'd bet my life on it."
"And you are," she said softly.
They stopped and sat on a park bench, sipping their hot drinks and watching the children play on the jungle gym, the state capitol building looming in the background. Those innocent little ones were so happy, so oblivious to the evils of the world, some of which may well occupy offices in that very building. Sometimes Lisbon wished she too were blissfully ignorant.
Jane sat back against the bench, casually draping his arm behind Lisbon's shoulders. Not touching her, but for all he seemed relaxed, she could feel the tension emanating from him like a tangible thing.
"It's not just my life, Lisbon." It was the lives of all those people Red John planned to kill. Because of me. But he didn't say it aloud; no point stating the obvious.
"Well, on the bright side, at least I don't have to worry about lying now," said Lisbon, searching for something to comfort them both.
Jane smiled a little. "That's right, Lisbon. Red John knows we know he's one of seven. No sense pretending now."
Lisbon turned toward him, suddenly excited. "Well why the hell don't we just go up to each of the seven and confront them? You can read people. You'll know—"
"You forget I've known some of these people for years, and I could never be sure."
"But you've suspected—"
"Some of them. Okay. Three of them."
"You must suspect one more than all the rest."
"No. They are all equal possibilities. That's why there are seven. I hit a brick wall. That's as far down as I could whittle," he said wryly.
"Well let's confront them. One at a time. We'll bring the whole team, armed to the teeth-"
"No. It's too dangerous, Lisbon. And you could burn some serious bridges if you accuse the wrong man of being a serial killer. Besides, what proof would we have? I'm sure he's planned for this contingency."
They sat a few moments in silence, Lisbon's coffee forgotten as she held it in her lap. As a cop, all she could think about were the procedures she would be going through were this a normal case and they had seven possible suspects. There would be endless interviews and interrogations. She would bring out the big guns—Cho, of course. She'd have Jane measuring the suspects' reactions from the other side of the glass. But there were different rules now. Red John's rules. And none of these were ordinary suspects off the street.
"Let's talk about each one," she ventured. "Tell me your thoughts, how you arrived at them."
He turned his head to look at her directly for the first time since she'd heard Red John's letter.
"You seriously want to know how my mind works? Sure you can handle it?" He was only half-teasing her.
"I'm sure I couldn't even begin to fathom it. But humor me anyway."
Jane sighed and drank some tea.
"Stiles," she prompted, fingering the seven pictures she had dropped into her blazer pocket.
"Aw, good ol' Bret" said Jane, in what sounded almost like admiration. "He's the head of the cult where Red John apparently got his start. If he isn't Red John, he is in close contact, because he's known stuff only Red John would know, even acted as a messenger for him. If he is Red John, he has the charisma and the mind control powers to manipulate hoards of followers. He has the perfect cover in Visualize. He is well-connected. I'm pretty sure he murdered one of the original founders of the cult. And…he helped me free Lorelei from jail."
"He what?" she cried, and Jane shot her a narrow look to remind her to control herself. He smiled at a few nervous nannies who looked their way.
"He owed me a favor. Amazing how easy it was for him to set a jailbird free."
"Holy crap, Jane," she said, trying to decide whether she was angry or in awe.
He shrugged. "You do what you gotta do, Lisbon. The most important reason why I suspect Bret, is because he simply gives me the willies. Those are feelings you should always pay attention to."
Lisbon nodded. "That's the Holy Ghost at work," she said automatically.
Jane's lips formed into a small smile. "The willies, the Holy Ghost, a gut feeling—whatever you like to call it—it is a sixth sense that only gets louder when you listen to it."
She totally agreed with him, but for her, it was a faith thing, a gift from God.
"What about Bertram?" she asked.
"You'll remember I thought he was Red John's mole once before. He still may well be, but he could also be the man himself. Who better to follow the CBI's every move? He has a way with the press, a charisma that pulls people in, gets them to believe whatever bullshit he spouts. And isn't it interesting how he's kept me on with the CBI, when he's had a million occasions to fire me? One could speculate he keeps me around to keep himself entertained—that's why Red John hasn't killed me yet, isn't it?"
"But none of this is proof, Jane. It's all coming from your gut."
"Another reason not to confront anyone, Lisbon, or tell anyone about this list. And I know you don't want to implicate Bertram, for example, and certainly not your old buddy, Haffner, if they're innocent."
"No," she said.
"So you have to trust me on this. When you told me Haffner admitted to being a member of Visualize, that pretty well clinched it for me. He's the right age to have been involved in what happened at the Visualize farm all those years ago. He was part of the CBI, so he had access to information, and indeed was part of the investigation when Bertram put him in charge of Serious Crimes after you'd been shot. He rubs me the wrong way, just like Stiles and Bertram—for me that's part of the whole willy factor. Not many people get under my skin, but Haffner does, as does everyone else on my list."
"The willy factor, eh?"
Jane grinned, and for the first time in hours, she was relieved to see his old humor returning. If Jane could smile, maybe everything would be all right.
"Yes, like I said."
"Well, what about the others on that list? Insights?"
"You know as much about the rest of them as I do. I'd be interested in your opinion, Lisbon."
She thought a moment. "I don't understand Reede Smith or Sheriff McCalister, except both of them were creepy—"
"Willy factor," Jane added.
"But Kirkland…I can see Kirkland as a suspect. He definitely gives me the willies. And Partridge…"
"Partridge fits every clue, from Rosalind Harker's description to the age of the kid who first drew the smiling face on the side of that red barn. He's in a goulish occupation with CBI access. Only trouble with him though, is everything about him is circumstantial; I have no proof. It's the same with all of them. It all comes down to my gut."
"Well, normally your gut is right."
"But how could I have met him, and not have known?" Jane said, with the first open display of frustration she'd seen in him since the county jail brought him the wrong Lorelei.
"There's no such thing as psychics, remember?" she said soothingly, and her hand moved to rest on his leg. "You're just a man with incredible skills of observation. So, apparently, is Red John. But he has eyes and ears everywhere, minions to carry out his dirty work. And you only have—"
"You, Lisbon. I have you. That makes me ten times stronger than him. With you, I think I can get him." He was looking her straight in the eye when he said it, and she knew in her heart that he was being sincere. His warm hand came to rest on top of hers, and she felt her cheeks flush.
"I'm glad you're sharing everything with me now," she said softly.
"Me too. I should have been more forthcoming with you long ago, but I was trying to protect you. Also, you might have noticed I'm very territorial where Red John in concerned."
She raised an eyebrow at that.
"But," he continued, undaunted by her amused reaction to his understatement, "I can't get him alone. I was a fool to think that I ever could. You're the only person I can trust, though. Even the rest of the team could have been corrupted somehow."
Lisbon looked at him in horror. "You don't think-?"
"No, not really," he said, trying to reassure her. "But look at my list, Lisbon. It shows you can't trust anyone, not a boss, not a friend, certainly not the FBI. And Red John seems privy to the very workings of my mind. Even someone as observant as me actually needs to be in contact with a suspect to be able to read him completely. So, you're right. Red John has spies. I'm sure we're being watched even now."
He felt Lisbon stiffen beside him. He tightened his grip on her hand. "Easy. He's not going to attack us in the middle of a public park with so many witnesses. It's not his style."
"But he says the rules have changed."
"Maybe, but he doesn't want to get caught, Lisbon. Not yet. He's not ready for the game to be over."
They were quiet a moment, and then Jane shifted on the bench to look at her, his hand now grasping hers.
"I have another theory; one you might appreciate."
"Oh?"
"What if all seven are part of one beast?"
Her eyes widened. "The seven-headed dragon in Revelation."
"Yes. Just so. You remember what Renfrew wrote on the bathroom wall in his own blood?"
"He is man, or he is mar—that kept us both up for many nights, I'm sure."
Jane laughed without humor. "Yeah, you could say that. What if Renfrew was trying to tell me that Red John is many? Obviously he has had many followers, all those we have caught have been killed or killed themselves. That could be the many. But it could also mean Red John is one dragon with many heads, many who lead a cult, for example, like Visualize."
"Well, even if Red John has seven heads, there is only one heart in the beast."
"Yes. And by finding the heart, we can kill the dragon entire, seven heads and all. But that is just a theory, Lisbon, something that occurred to me."
When he looked at her now, deep emotion rose within him—gratitude and love for this woman who was willing to go to battle with him against this monster who had killed and manipulated so many, and still vowed to kill more. He smiled, and brought her hand to his lips.
Lisbon smiled a little in return, feeling closer to him in that moment than she ever had before. They were in this together completely, with no more secrets and lies between them. It was a heady feeling, and she felt for a minute like she was drunk with it. She blinked back sudden tears and squeezed his hand, remembering where they were. She had the uncanny feeling that, like he had suggested, they were being watched.
Suddenly, the park didn't seem all that safe and innocent anymore, and Lisbon abruptly stood. "Let's go," she said.
Still on the bench, Jane squinted up at her. "The willies?"
"Yeah," she replied, tossing her half-drunk coffee cup into a nearby trashcan.
He rose too, reluctant to leave there, where the sound of children's laughter was soothing, though bittersweet. His cup joined hers in the trash, and he held out his arm gallantly. She slipped her own arm through his and they walked companionably back toward HQ.
"I think you should stop calling it the willy factor," she said, a tinge of laughter in her voice. "It sounds-I don't know—very fifth grade."
Jane grinned. "How 'bout I only use that term with you-our little secret."
She patted his arm indulgently. "I think that's probably a good idea."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
A week passed, and, with no new cases to occupy them, Jane and Lisbon had plenty of time to mull away the tense hours, contemplating their seven-headed dragon. They ate most meals together, discussing or arguing the merits of each name over Reuben sandwiches or Chinese take-out. Naturally, the team noticed, but no one had the temerity to ask them personally what was up. It seemed no coincidence that their sudden closeness occurred right after the last Red John murder, and they all had the distinct feeling they were being left out of the loop.
"They've included us in all their past schemes," said Rigsby one day, petulantly watching their boss and consultant speaking animatedly in her office with the door closed.
"Maybe they don't need us," Cho suggested, taking a bite of his snack bar sub.
"Maybe," said Rigsby doubtfully.
"They'll let us in when they're ready," said Van Pelt. But, truth be told, she was feeling a little hurt by their behavior. Did they not trust them anymore? Hadn't they proven their loyalty in the past?
"Well, whatever they're talking about, it's something big," said Rigsby. He picked up his second sandwich and turned morosely away from the direction of Lisbon's office.
"They're going on a lot of walks together," said Van Pelt. "Maybe there's something going on between them."
The men stopped chewing to stare at their female counterpart. Could she be right, and after all these years those two were finally putting truth to the office gossip?
"Nah," said Cho at last. "They're all business, at least right now."
"All that togetherness might change things, though," added Rigsby, glancing with a small smile at Van Pelt.
"I personally don't think that would be such a bad thing," said Van Pelt, grinning back at her lover. "I think they're perfect for each other."
Cho rolled his eyes, but said nothing more on the subject. It wasn't his business, though he secretly concurred with Van Pelt.
After lunch, Jane emerged from Lisbon's office and took his place on his couch for an afternoon nap.
"In case you all are wondering, nothing is going on," he announced from his prone position. "So you can tell whoever is holding the office pool on the subject to keep holding the money."
The team said nothing in reply, but sheepishly returned to their work. Jane closed his eyes, his wide smile lingering on his face until he slipped into a light sleep.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The next morning, Lisbon received a call from Bob Kirkland.
"Are you busy for lunch?" he asked.
Lisbon's panicked eyes flew to Jane, where he sat on her office couch.
Kirkland! She mouthed.
Jane nodded, but his heart picked up speed as well. This was the first time either of them had spoken to one of the people on The List since hearing Lorelei read the names.
"Lunch?" Lisbon said aloud.
Jane nodded in encouragement. She had to face these people sometime.
"Uh, I actually had plans with Jane. Would you mind if he joined us?"
Jane shook his head violently.
"Sure, Teresa, the more the merrier. See you on the rooftop?"
"Yeah. Twelve o'clock. See you then."
Lisbon set down her phone.
"What did you do that for?" asked Jane in annoyance.
"I don't know. I need you there with me if I'm going to get through this. Dammit, I should have said no."
"Why? If Kirkland is Red John, he's not going to attack you in a public place. Not his style."
"Oh, that's comforting. Come with me for moral support, so I don't make a mistake."
"You think I want to eat lunch with a murderer?" he said wryly.
"You don't know for sure it's him anymore than I do. And now that you suspect him, you can start using your mental magic to figure it out for sure."
Jane sighed. "Fine. But don't even bother asking me to your poker night with Bertram."
"Oh, hell; that's tonight…I'm not going."
"You're going, all right. Now that you know these guys are suspects, you need to start using you CBI magic to figure it out for sure," he said, gently mocking her.
"Come with me to that too." She knew she was sounding paranoid, but she couldn't seem to help it.
"I'm not part of that inner circle, and I'm fairly certain no one wants to play poker with me. Besides, you can't live your life this way, Lisbon. Go about your usual business. Be a bit more vigilant, but don't let Red John control your life."
She stared at him, eyes narrowed. "Because you've always done that so well."
"I've never been one to sit around waiting for him to kill me, no. You know some of these people better than I do, so that puts you in the perfect position to observe them now with your cop's instincts in high gear. Red John might have changed the rules, but he's still playing a game. He's not going to show his hand over lunch, or, more literally, at a poker game."
Lisbon put her elbows on her desk, dropping her face into her hands in a rare show of trepidation.
Jane rose quietly from her couch and walked around her desk. He rested his hands on her shoulders and she jumped at his touch.
"Hey, easy, partner. You're stretched taught as a bow string." He gave her a few quick massaging squeezes, then patted her shoulders gently. It was very tempting to give her a deep, soothing rubdown, but he wasn't sure how she would respond to such a personal touch.
"You can do this, Teresa," he said, bending near her ear. Lisbon felt like he was a manager giving a prizefighter a pep talk.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm just starting to feel the stress of the situation. Red John is likely someone I know…I never even considered that possibility."
He moved his hands away from her, but the slow release of his hands felt almost like a caress. She shivered slightly.
"All seven of them have been people I've thought about over the years, people who somehow felt…off."
"Well, you're definitely one up on me then," she said dryly.
Jane left her side to sit in the chair opposite her desk. "Well, now you know about them. Don't start freaking out on me at this late date."
She smiled in spite of herself. "I'm not going to freak out. I can keep it together if you can. And might I say, you, who usually go a little freaky where Red John is concerned, have seemed unusually calm."
"It's the end game," he said with a shrug. "Reality of how close I am has set in, and I feel at peace, much like I did when I shot Timothy Carter."
She didn't point out how wrong he'd been about that situation, but her expression said it all.
"I'm not wrong this time, Lisbon. Red John has confirmed it."
"Which makes having lunch with Kirkland particularly terrifying."
Jane grinned. "Order some ice cream; ice cream makes everything better."
She shook her head. "Not even double fudge will make this any easier."
"Not even extra, toasted almonds?"
"Not even them."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
When Jane shook Bob Kirkland's hand, he waited for some telltale tingle, for some of those willies to seep in like they did every time he was around the Homeland Security agent.
"Patrick," greeted Kirkland.
"Bob," said Jane, though Jane had never before called him by his first name. It was a simple trick, really. People tended to focus more on you if you used their first name, and Jane wanted the man's complete attention.
"Teresa, good to see you, as always."
"Bob," nodded Lisbon. Jane could see she was having a difficult time keeping her face neutral, and she pretended not to see his proffered hand as she looked over his shoulder for an empty table.
She spotted one that had just been vacated, and when they got to it, there ensued an amusingly polite race to see which man could pull out Teresa's chair first. Jane won handily, and Kirkland smiled in defeat, before sitting down himself.
"What would you like?" Jane asked Lisbon.
"I'm not really hungry."
"Eat," said Jane softly, a hint of warning in his tone.
In the end, Lisbon ordered a shrimp salad and barely took a bite. Jane sat eating his grilled ham and cheese heartily, so cool and calm Lisbon wanted to throttle him. Bob ate his hamburger, as the conversation steered uncomfortably to the most recent Red John murder.
"Interesting he's going for someone from your past, Patrick."
"He likes to toy with me," replied Jane. "Play mind games. I think he's worried I'm close to figuring out who he is."
Kirkland's eyebrows shot up, and he set down his hamburger to dab at his lips with a paper napkin. "Oh, really? Do you have any new information you'd like to share with me?"
"Nothing new, really," said Jane honestly. "It's all there, in the files. I'm just looking at it in a different way."
"But you burned your copies of those files, if I recall."
Lisbon became even tenser, if that were possible. It really wasn't a part of Memory Lane she liked to revisit.
"They're all up here," said Jane, tapping his temple.
"I suppose when you've been studying for nigh on a decade, you would naturally commit them to memory. But how does Red John know you're closing in on him?"
Jane looked deeply into Kirkland's eyes a moment, hoping he could see inside the man's very soul, or, rather, searching to find whether he had one. All that greeted him were cold, shark-like eyes, unblinking and unfathomable.
"Because I got close to his right-hand girl," said Jane.
"You can't depend on anything Lorelei Martins told you," said Kirkland. "She was too devoted to her master to share any of his secrets. That's the way all of them have been—they're either killed or kill themselves before we can get anything meaningful out of them."
"Lorelei was different," Lisbon said.
Kirkland contemplated Lisbon a moment, sipping his iced tea.
"She certainly lasted longer than all of them. So what happened with her that made her so different, Patrick?"
"I had sex with her, Bob."
Lisbon nearly choked on her Diet Coke. It was so uncharacteristic for him to speak of such things, especially in such a blunt fashion. She knew that of course he was trying to get a rise out of Kirkland, but that didn't take away her surprise at his bold method.
"So I heard. All that intimacy didn't seem to pay off in the end, though, did it? She's dead, and Red John keeps killing."
So much for shaking up Kirkland.
"Yes, he does," said Jane, and he couldn't help the steel in his voice.
Nothing about this meeting had either weeded Kirkland out of the list or pinned him down definitively as Red John.
There followed a tense silence, during which Kirkland blithely finished his burger and Lisbon pushed away her half-eaten salad. Jane sat back and just observed.
"Well," said Kirkland, wiping his hands and checking his watch. "This has been nice, but I do have another appointment."
He rose abruptly, barely giving Jane a chance to rise and shake his hand.
"Teresa, hope to see you again very soon. You two have a good day."
They stared after him until the back of his Italian suit disappeared around that led to the elevator.
"That went well," said Teresa dryly. Her feeling of relief was incredible.
"It might have gone better had you said more than three words to the man."
"I did. I said…four."
"This is just what I've been talking about," he said. "You have to try to act normally around these suspects."
"No way," she said, her face suddenly going pale.
"Yes, Lisbon, there is a way—"
"No," she said, her voice dropping ominously. "Look who's here." She inclined her head toward the entrance of the bistro, where none other than Reede Smith, accompanied by Gabe Mancini, had arrived. They looked around for a table just as Lisbon's party had earlier, and Lisbon resisted the urge to slump down in her chair.
"I wonder what they're doing here," mused Jane.
"Who knows? Maybe Haffner's on his way too, along with Bertram, and hey, why doesn't Partridge—"
He reached over and put his hand over hers where she was clutching the arm of the chair as if her life depended on it.
"Pull yourself together," he said quietly, "This isn't like you."
"Hey, Teresa," said Mancini brightly, standing now near the empty table right beside them. "Jane," his old nemesis said coldly.
"Mancini," said Jane. Reede Smith said nothing, and Jane gazed at the large man thoughtfully.
"Hi, guys," said Lisbon, pleased her voice didn't shake. "We were just leaving." She stood, and Jane rose as well.
"Something I said?" Mancini asked in amusement.
"No. Lunch break's over, that's all. We've got to get back to work."
Jane stuck out a hand to keep Lisbon from running scared. "What are you two doing around the CBI? Lorelei Martins is dead, and Homeland Security is on the Red John case now."
"We have other cases besides Red John, nimrod," said Reede Smith disdainfully.
"Oh, I'm sure. Busy men like you," said Jane.
"Actually, we have a case that crossed jurisdictions with Narcotics," said Mancini. "Nothing to do with Serious Crimes this time. Our meeting's not till one-thirty, so we thought we'd grab a quick bite…"
"Oh," said Lisbon.
"Hey, see you tonight, Teresa?" asked Mancini hopefully.
"Oh, yeah. Sure."
"I invited Reede," he continued. "He hasn't played much poker, or so he says, so I thought I'd invite him to join us. He could be totally playing me, though."
"You never know about me," said Smith with an oily grin. "Just when you think you know how the game is played, someone can jump in and change the rules on you."
Jane and Lisbon both stiffened at the familiar topic, and a chill ran up her spine.
"Yeah," said Jane. "Which is why Lisbon asked me to join her tonight too. Hope you fellas don't mind."
Lisbon shot Jane a sidelong glance, but she was grateful he'd suddenly changed his mind.
"You think the others will be all right with that?" asked Lisbon.
"Sure," said Mancini tightly. "But how do we know he won't cheat at cards, like he does everything else?"
"I give you my solemn vow I won't," said Jane, putting his hand over his heart. His other hand, Lisbon noted, was behind his back, fingers crossed childishly. She let out a nervous laugh, and the others looked at her askance.
She shrugged. "Sorry. Just thought of a funny joke."
"Well you'll have to share it with us tonight. You know how the judge likes a good joke."
"Yeah. I'll do that. See you later."
"Good day, gentleman," said Jane.
"Bye," echoed the two FBI agents, and they took the empty table. Jane could have sworn he heard Smith say "suckers" under his breath.
It wasn't until they were in the elevator that Lisbon slumped against the wall in relief.
"Mother of God," she said. "I don't know how much more of these run-ins I can take."
"Hang in there, Lisbon," he said, pressing the second floor button.
"Thanks for coming with me to the poker game."
"I didn't like the way Smith was taunting us. It could be nothing, or we could be playing poker with Red John tonight."
"You're really not helping my nerves by saying that."
"I know," said Jane, meeting her eyes solemnly. "Mine neither."
A/N: So, how's this for a start? Please log in and let us know. The next chapter belongs to waterbaby, and I know she has something lovely cooked up for the poker game. Thanks for reading.