A/N: It's been a while since I've actually wrote something so I may be a little rusty, but this idea just came to and had to be written down. And as I put more and more down, I decided to just roll with it and finish it. I was actually working on another Mentalist fic but this was a nice change of writing scenery.
Please enjoy this little one shot and there's nothing that an author enjoys more (at least this one) than hearing what you thought of it, be it good, bad, or constructive criticism. I reply to every single review I receive, so you're welcome to ask any questions you got after reading this. Also, if you want to answer to my reply feel free to send me a message. :) On another note, I didn't want to put another A/N at the end since the story ends where it ends, not to conclude this with more of my author nonsense (hey, could that be what A/N stands for? ;)). Oh, and by 'ends', I mean 'ends'. I have no intention of making this into a two shot or even multi chapter (how two shot is not multi I don't know). Though if you'd really want me to I could always reconsider it.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist or any of its characters, they belong to Bruno Heller and CBS. If I remember correctly. If I'm mistaken it's due to my need of sleep, so please excuse me.
And lastly, I want to thank Afterglow04. Aside from writing amazing fanfics you're great to talk to about The Mentalist and writing. Also, this little story couldn't have been done without you, since the idea for this story hit me as soon as I finished reading your great drabble Beyond redemption. Looking forward to your next work. :)
Now on with the story!
Edit 04/03: OK, this will turn into a four chapter since someone put an idea in my head that I can't seem to get rid of, so instead of sticking to what I said earlier, this will have three more chapters. I'll let it be classified as completed until I actually post the next chapter though. So put it on alert or check back later if you don't want this to be the ending. :)
The setting sun shone its last rays of light on the three people standing in a vast area of nothingness, a warm wind rustling quietly. They just stood there, silently, staring at one another, like a picture that seemed to capture a single moment in time. All of them wore different expressions, however, none of them were happy ones. Lisbon looked jumpy and even a bit scared as she watched the two men in front of her. Jane on the other hand looked dead serious, whereas the man opposite him just stared at him. Every now and then though, his gaze moved from his face to the gun that the blond man had pointed at him.
It was kinda funny to see if you have a strange sense of humor, they looked like the classic hostage situation in which you root for the cop to take out the suspect before he causes the hostage any harm. Nothing of the sort, though. Jane sees the look in her eyes as the gun facing him wavers a little. He'd always been able to read her, always been able to tell what her next step was going to be. But looking at the firearm, for the first time since the day they met he isn't sure what action she's going to take. He doesn't know whether she'll shoot him if he tries to commit murder or if she'll put it away. Then of course there was also the dilemma of him being sent to prison if he actually pulled the trigger, but he figured that if she'd let him take the shot she probably wouldn't even bother taking him into custody. If Lisbon did something, she'd do it right.
He also didn't believe that she'd actually shoot him, or at least she wouldn't aim to kill. She could never do that. But then again, she was a trained cop who intuitively fires at a shooting culprit. Besides, even if she'd aim for his arm or leg to stop him from shooting again, even if he'd never point the gun at her, he couldn't be sure her aim was perfect. So here he stood, gun in hand, pointed at the man he despised even more than he hated him. Was he willing to bet his life on killing him? Wouldn't justice be served if he let him get off easy? Sure, California didn't have the death penalty, but he'd be in jail for life. It was supposed to be the worst possible punishment. Jane briefly wondered why research had indicated that the death penalty didn't decrease crime statistics though, if it was supposed to be that awful. Then he looked at Red John and fastened his grip on the gun. Death was really the only thing he deserved after he took away his whole existence. And if he would die in the process, he had peace with that. He was tired of the long chase and now that it was finally over, he felt relieved. He didn't feel empty, like he feared he might've. But no, as he had been told by Tommy once before, revenge was sweeter than all the candy in the world. It was alright now, he would see his wife and child again if he died.
"Patrick, put the gun down, please," Lisbon begged, not for the first time this evening. "Don't make me undertake any action that I might regret. I have a duty to live up to, you know. If you try to shoot Red John I'm forced to take you down. I could lose my job if I don't."
For the first time though, Jane answered. Without looking away from Red John he spoke, his voice hard and devoid of emotion. "Nothing new in there, Lisbon," he said coolly. "You know I have to do this. I don't care what you do. It'd be nice if you wouldn't shoot me, but I can understand if you do. Just know that I've always cared for you and that I'm sorry if my actions led to any consequences that could affect you in a bad way."
"Patrick, look at me. Look at me, Patrick! I know you want him dead, but he's going to jail for the rest of his life. He might even die within years by another inmate. He's going to suffer, Patrick, there's no reason for you to suffer as well! You can put the gun down and walk away and I promise I won't arrest you. This is your last chance, Patrick. Please, don't make me do this..." Her voice got softer and softer as she spoke and by the end of her plea she was almost whispering.
"The choice you will make is yours, Teresa." Patrick threw a glance her way, before fixating his eyes on the man in front of him again. "I will take my responsibility. Again, I'm sorry to have put you in this position. But I told you you shouldn't have come here. I have no choice but to carry out my promise." He now looked at her, slightly smiling at how her gun immediately switched from him to Red John as her target. Great, now he still couldn't look her in the eyes one last time.
"Whatever you decide, Teresa, I'm ready. Don't feel any regrets. I know I don't." With that he looked at Red John one final time, noticing Lisbon looking at him from the corner of his eye, trembling slightly as she aimed the gun at him again. A small grin appeared on his features, a good cop till the very end. Now that he was staring down the eyes of the man who had ruined his life he could see the fear of death inside them. For a strange reason this filled his heart with satisfaction. Right now Red John was about to experience the same as his countless victims. More importantly, the last feeling he'd experience before he'd die would be all-consuming fear. His grin widened as he pointed the gun between his eyes, a grin which now held no joy at all. "This is for my wife and child," he whispered, bracing himself for the shot.
"Patrick, please, stop it!"
Her voice sounded like it came from far away. The only thing that existed to him right now were the two dark eyes in front of him. He had to admit, he almost admired his determination not to beg for his life, not trying to convince him to put the gun down. He probably knew he had it coming to him, that he wasn't going to be absolved from the gruesome crimes he had committed.
"I'm sorry, Lisbon," he said, a hint of remorse resounding in his voice. His finger tightened around the trigger.
"PATRICK, DON'T!"
A loud, sharp noise pierced the surrounding dry air. A body went limp and fell to the ground, blood streaming from a gaping wound in his chest. After all those years of chasing, frustration and anger it was surreal how everything was over now. In the end, all it took to free him from his misery was one final shot.