Title: Reciprocation
Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own any of it.
Rating: M
Summary: If he gave them what they wanted, they would all reciprocate the kindness in unexpected ways. Set pre-show and extremely dark. Multi-pairing; and written for tromana.
I.
Once Angela had passed Charlotte off to her nanny for the evening, she had brought out the bottle of chardonnay that she kept hidden from her husband and turned on the television. His cocky face filled her screen and she took a swig from her bottle, as she listened to him prattle on and on about his special psychic skills.
She rolled her eyes at the mention of Red John. Her idiot of a husband had been working alongside the police to catch the smiley face killer, saying that his observation skills (or his psychic skills, as he told the idiots of the world) were leading them ever-so closer to Red John. Angela took another swig of chardonnay and grabbed the television remote to throw at the screen.
The remote bounced against the large screen, before the television careened backwards and hit the floor with a loud crash. Angela laughed bitterly, as she thought of what her husband would do (and say) over the broken television, when he eventually came back to her. After all, it seemed that all he cared about anymore were the material things and she just wanted her old husband back.
She glanced briefly at their wedding pictures; with his arms around her and his lips pressed against hers, smiling, before she pulled out her cellphone and dialed a familiar number. The person answered after the second ring. "I could really use some comfort tonight."
II.
Lisbon allowed Angela's lips to crash against hers, as they both fought for dominance in the seedy motel room. Angela's cold hands grabbed at her clothing, which caused Lisbon to shiver in the warmth of the room as Angela's lips moved to her neck. Lisbon threw her head back and moaned softly at the contact, enjoying the rare sensation of nimble fingers skimming her bare breasts and stomach.
Without hesitation or words, they both collapsed onto the rickety bed together. Angela's lips slowly trailed down her neck, brushed against her stomach and finally, moved to rest in-between her legs.
Without warning, Lisbon cried out at the wet tongue inside of her and her body jerked, uncontrollably.
The sound of her phone vibrating against the stained night table had Lisbon pull herself out of Angela's hold.
"Lisbon?" After a few murmured yeses, she ended the call and glanced toward her lover for the moment. "I've got to go. I'm…"
"Don't say it," Angela interrupted, coolly. "You've got a case."
"A body was found near River Port," Lisbon explained, softly, as she fished out her bra from under the bed. "I'm sorry, Angela. I truly am."
III.
Jane felt his phone vibrate against his hip, as he pulled the strings of his frilly apron closer to his body. He stared down at the near boiling pot of water, before he removed the phone from his pocket and grinned at Teresa's name on his phone. He had wondered when he'd hear from her, considering he had completely deserted her at a crime scene in River Port to a) go on television and b) fix something up for her dinner, as he knew she'd probably be burning the midnight oils again.
"Hello, Teresa," Jane greeted, cheerfully. He heard no cops shouting on the other side of the line, so he figured that she had somehow gotten all of the officers to listen to her. "What can I do for my favorite girlfriend, today?"
"Will you stop calling me that?" Lisbon replied and he could hear the grimace in her voice, which made him chuckle. "I just wanted to call and tell you that I'm not coming back for dinner tonight, okay?"
"I had already figured that one out," Jane answered, dumping the container of noodles into the boiling water. "I just thought I'd make you dinner and bring it to you, so we could work on the…"
He thought he heard her breath hitch, as she rushed a reply to him. "No! Don't worry about it! I had to go out of town tonight to…to…"
"Catch a murderer?" He added, helpfully.
"Yeah, that," Lisbon responded, breathlessly.
Jane said nothing, as he disconnected the call and turned off the stove.
If she wasn't going to be home (or at work), he thought, he wasn't going to be at home either.
IV.
"Will you stop calling me that?" Lisbon replied with a grimace, as she tried to keep the phone pressed against her ear. She felt Red John's hand on her hip, which caused her to smile slightly. "I just wanted to call and tell you I'm not coming back for dinner, okay?" She rolled her eyes at Jane's response and motioned for Red John to back off, causing him to wrap his entire arm around her midsection and for one of his hands to dip below her waistband. Her breath hitched at the touch of his fingers within her, rubbing eagerly at her clitoris while Jane spoke to her.
She hastily worked to quicken the conversation along. "No! Don't worry about it! I had to go out of town tonight to…to…" His fingers within her always had the effect of making her forget her words. Lisbon knew she'd probably tell him off later, but for now, she was quite content with his warm fingers burying themselves inside of her. "Yeah, that."
She closed her eyes and her phone slipped from her grasp, as Red John pushed her into his bed and removed his fingers from inside of her. Lisbon mewed at the loss of contact.
"Now, now," Red John teased with a smile. "I'll be back in a little, alright? Don't have too much fun without me." He turned his back on her, before her fingers even had the chance to take refuge within herself.
V.
"You sound bitter, Mr. Jane," Red John said, as he removed his shoes and plopped himself down on the feathery bed. Jane glanced at the slightly younger man with a smirk, before he also joined him on the bed. "Is it, perhaps, because you cannot cash in on your knowledge of who Red John is?"
Jane blinked. "You heard my interview?"
"Of course I did," Red John answered, sneering. "Did you really think I wouldn't turn in? After all, you are discussing me." Jane shrugged and Red John smacked him lightly. "I've told you before, I appreciate words. Your motions mean absolutely nothing…" Instead of letting the other man continue, Jane interrupted his words with a well-timed (and passionate) kiss. He felt Red John smile into kiss, which Jane hoped, would lead into more for them both.
"How about I make it up to you?" Jane asked, after he pulled away from Red John.
"What did you possibly have in mind, Mr. Jane? I am, after all, open to suggestions."
VI.
Red John smirked, as he worked his knife down Angela's white nightgown. The blood of the little blonde child staining his knife, the bed and the innocence of her own nightgown as Angela stared at him in horror and tried to fight off his touch against her body. Red John chortled, happily at the memory he was making for himself, as he cut through the material of her underpants and left her body on sight for the entire world to see.
"Now, Angie, what part of you should I cut first?" Red John asked her, and her eyes went wide, but the gag in her mouth prevented any noises. He moved his kitchen blade to her neck. "Should I cut out your pretty little throat?" To her heart. "Should I leave your whorish heart to your husband?" To her stomach. "Or should I slash your stomach. I've never gutted anyone before; I believe it would be a wonderful experience!"
Angela struggled beneath him and his hand gently touched her face, to which she closed her eyes and he chuckled. Everyone, to him, was the same; they all could be played and it all had to do with sex. If he gave them what they wanted, they would all reciprocate the kindness in unexpected ways; and he had witnessed this first had with both Patrick Jane and Teresa Lisbon, who remained ensnared within his web of deceit.
Of course, if they ever told the media (or one another) who he was; they'd both go down in flames. Teresa thought the world of her career and Patrick would (eventually) want to have his quest of revenge on him, the man who had killed both Patrick's wife and had become his lover.
"You see, Angela," Red John spoke, as he mounted himself on top of her. "It all comes around full circle." He smiled kindly down at her, seeing the tears running down her face. "Your Patrick was fucking my Teresa and your Teresa was fucking my Patrick, and I simply cannot have that." He swiftly drove into her, filling her completely with his length, as he watched her cry and he moved to brush the tears away from her face. "I'm sure you understand, sweet one. After all, I'm giving you such a rare pleasure before your death."
Angela jerked under him and he brought the knife against her throat, as he remained inside of her; and when she finally climaxed (her own body, betraying itself), his hand slipped and the blade buried itself inside of her. Once her body went still, he pulled himself out of her and his fingers became coated in blood from both (dead) sweet girls and cum, which coated his length to join the half-formed smiley face above them both.