A/N: Okay, guys, I know I said this would have more than one chapter, but, there's this thing called school, and at this school they give you homework, which gives you no time for anything else... I'm really sorry. I'm getting hammered here. *sighs* Life's not easy when you're a teenager. I apologize for this, I really do.

Spoiler Warning: Season 1, Episode 2: Red Hair and Silver Tape

Disclaimer: I own nothing; "nothing" being The Mentalist and the homework I'm forced to do, even though it has my name on it.

Other Warnings: Minor language

Jane had screwed up, royally. Again. How was he to know that McAllister would be there? It wasn't his fault.

Try telling that to Lisbon.

"Everything's funny." She was glaring at him.

He stopped laughing, but kept his grin. "Well, if you try." Still glaring. "I mean, come on, that was pretty funny." Still glaring. Damn. He sobered. "Strange, though. I was sure the chef would bite. There's still a chance he could show up."

"The chef?" she asked skeptically. "Malcolm?" Jane nodded. "Why do you think it's him?"

Knowing full well she wouldn't believe him, he said, "He uses way too much butter."

Lisbon gaped at him. "Say—?"

He interrupted her. "He's a gluttonous baby. He's self indulgent. He wants what he wants and he takes it."

"Too much butter."

"Yeah."

"It's fascinating," Lisbon said sarcastically, "the way your mind works." Jane grinned and shrugged. "One thing though, Malcolm was in the kitchen with 20 people when Melanie was taken. He couldn't have done it."

Was she listening to anything he said at all? "Hang on," he said. "There's a way he could—"

"Forgive me if I can't stay for more of your theorizing," she interjected, "but I've gotta go see if I can save your colleagues from getting formal complaints in their files." Lisbon left without another word.

Inwardly kicking himself, he walked to the bed and fell backwards onto it. He had really messed up this time. What had he been thinking? He had known she wouldn't let him explain, and he'd still bothered to tell her what he thought.

As he rebuked himself, he heard the lock on the room's door beep and the door open. He lifted his head. Had Lisbon come back? He heard heels clicking on the floor. He sat up. Lisbon didn't wear heels. Someone was whispering. Someone else was moaning softly. Jane got off the bed and went to see who it was. Malcolm and his wife, Sandra. Quickly, he ducked behind the wall. They had been lowering a redhead to the floor. Both of them were the killers.

He saw Malcolm run back out of the room. Sandra leaned down and started murmuring reassurances to the red-haired woman, who almost seemed to be unconscious. Malcolm hurried back inside with a bag, then locked the door.

Jane was trapped. He pulled out his cell phone and started dialing Lisbon's number, hoping she wasn't too far away yet.

"Help me put this on the bed," he heard the chef say.

"Okay," his wife answered eagerly. Malcolm opened the cupboard that Jane had discovered earlier and pulled out a rolled-up plastic sheet. They both walked to the bed and began to spread the sheet over it. Jane stayed where he was. They hadn't noticed him yet—

Malcolm looked up. "Oh!" he yelped, stumbling back and knocking over a lamp. Sandra gasped.

Thinking fast, Jane waved his cell phone at them and said, "Stop, think, do not move." He began backing toward the door. "Whatever you do, do not move." He had the element of surprise on his side; they both just stared at him in shock.

"What?" Malcolm hissed.

"Do not move!" He ran for the door, trying to undo all the locks.

"Hey, no!" Sandra growled. "Stop! Come back here, stop!" They followed him, and she pulled out a gun. Jane looked at her and froze, putting his hands in the air.

Malcolm had a knife now, and he poked it at Jane, forcing him away from the door. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Think, think," Jane said. He knew he wasn't going to get out of this one, but at least he could buy the redhead and Lisbon some time.

"What are you doing here?" Malcolm repeated menacingly.

"Does it matter?" Jane asked. "I'm here. This place is surrounded by police and CBI agents."

The chef glanced at the window, then back at Jane. "Oh, no," he whispered.

"He's lying," Sandra said confidently. "They would be up here arresting us right now if they were here."

"SWAT. They're waiting on SWAT," Jane lied. "There's no way out of this."

Sandra peeked out the window, while Malcolm watched her. "There's nobody," she said in relief, turning back to Jane. "Let's just kill them and get outta here."

"Yeah," her husband agreed. They advanced on him.

"Whoa, whoa," he said calmly. "Listen to me. You can walk away from all of this. No disrespect, but you're both clinically insane." Sandra grimaced. "You're not gonna go to prison. You'll go to a hospital for a couple of years and you can walk away!"

"Shut up!" Malcolm yelled, raising his weapon. "Just shut up! I… I'm trying to think—"

"Oh, now he's trying to think," Sandra said mockingly.

"Don't pretend you didn't want this," Malcolm said, turning away from Jane. "You wanted it just as much as me—"

"Yeah, but I told you we didn't have enough time! I told you—"

"I swear to God, woman, one more word outta you," Malcolm warned his wife, pointing his knife at her. Jane was losing hope that he and the woman on the floor would make it out of the room alive.

"Don't you point that at me—"

At that second, the door burst open. "Police!" Lisbon yelled. Jane sighed in relief. She'd come back.

Both the chef and his wife whirled around to face their new threat. Malcolm lifted his knife toward Lisbon, and she aimed her gun at him. Jane ducked down, trying to stay out of the way. She shot Malcolm twice in the chest. He fell to the floor, dead. She turned to Sandra.

"Put the gun down!" she yelled.

Sandra aimed her weapon. "No!"

Bang! She crumpled to the floor with a yelp.

Lisbon was breathing heavily as she holstered her gun. Her eyes were fixed on Sandra's body. Remembering the woman on the floor, she went to her and began to free her. "Okay," she murmured. "Come on. It's okay." She pulled the silver duct tape off the redhead's mouth. "You're gonna be fine, alright?"

Jane looked on in shocked silence. He was also panting. He had almost died. But he hadn't, because Lisbon had saved him. She turned to look at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Their eyes locked, and Jane moved his away, shaking his head. He had almost died.

Lisbon made sure the woman was okay, moved her to the couch, then stood and approached Jane. "Are you okay?" she asked gently.

He looked at her. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I'm fine."

An awkward silence fell between them. Then Lisbon whispered, "You were right. I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for."

Another pause. Jane heard a soft sniffle, then felt arms go around him. Instinctively, his wrapped around Lisbon, too. She began to cry quietly.

"I thought you were going to die," she whispered against his chest.

He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. "I knew you would save me."

The woman on the couch moaned. "W-Where… where am I?" she asked, dazed.

Lisbon went to check on her while Jane watched. He knew he and Lisbon had just become more connected than they had been before. He wondered how this would change her view of him, if it did at all.

One thing was certain: it had definitely changed his view of her.

A/N: Again, I'm sorry. Please forgive me!