Title: Russian Roulette
Author: tromana
Summary: When Teresa Lisbon joins the CBI, practically everything she's ever wished for falls on her plate: an excellent career, a new love and the like. Things start to unravel when she slowly, but surely, discovers that her new husband is the famous serial killer, Red John. Will she forgive him, or does she have to rely on Patrick Jane to help her out of one of the biggest messes she's ever found herself in?
Warnings/Spoilers: death, violence (but it involves Red John, they're expected, right?)
Notes: Written for the 2012 Serial Killer Big Bang on LiveJournal. With thanks to Miss Peg for betaing and WeBuiltThePyramids for the wonderful artwork!

Part One: A Beginning

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Lisbon glanced up to see a pair of warm brown eyes staring back down at her. The files she'd been hurrying along to Minelli's office were strewn across the floor and she cursed quietly. Damn the man. Although it wouldn't take her all that long to sort the paperwork out again, it was more of a hindrance than anything. If only he had actually been looking where he was going, rather than being too busy tied up with his cell phone, then she would have already been delivering the case notes to her boss, rather than wasting time.

The man, noticing her frustration, quickly knelt beside her and helped her to scoop up the loose sheets. She smiled weakly, but really, it was the least he could do. When she straightened up slightly, she finally had the chance to regard him properly.

He was a little older than she was, maybe in his late thirties. Clean shaven, short dark wavy hair. Dark brown eyes which were just begging to welcome her in. Though she only knew him vaguely, just one look at him made her feel like she had known him for a lifetime. That was impossible, however, as she had only been working for the CBI for a matter of months. Before then, she had barely known anybody outside of San Francisco. Sacramento, after all, had been well outside of her jurisdiction.

That was until Virgil Minelli had decided to take a chance on her, of course. Naturally, she was infinitely grateful, but was well aware that she was currently under a trial period. If she didn't continue to impress the senior special agent, then Lisbon knew she would be heading straight back to San Francisco. Sam Bosco, at least, had always promised her a job there, if she needed it.

But she wasn't going to let it come down to that. It wasn't in her nature to not seize such an important opportunity.

"You're Teresa, right?"

She nodded, frowning. How the hell did he know her name?

"Agent Teresa Lisbon, with the Serious Crimes Unit," she elaborated as she accepted the stack of files from the stranger's hands. "And you are?"

"Jackson Roberts. I work with the PSU," he answered with a grin. "But please, call me Jack."

"Well, thank you, Jack," Lisbon answered, knowing full well just how stilted her speech sounded. "I'll see you again."

"I hope so," he said warmly.

Briefly, she watched as he sauntered up the corridor towards the vending machines. As far as she was concerned, they were a waste of money, but obviously, he disagreed. Lisbon glanced at her watch before completing her journey to Minelli's office and knocking smartly on the door. She was only running five minutes late, but that was more than enough time to irritate her. Time was precious to somebody like Virgil Minelli – to everyone who worked at the CBI, really – and it was entirely possible that he would hold her tardiness against her. After all, she could constantly feel the judgment of her colleagues, something which she tried to ignore. Minelli's, she accepted, purely because he was her boss (and her boss' boss) and it was his job to do so.

"Agent Lisbon," he said warmly and indicated to the chair opposite him. "Take a seat."

She inclined her head slightly as she obeyed his instructions. Before she nervously perched on the edge of the seat, however, she handed over the file in her hands and held her breath. The file wasn't that important; it had just been an excuse for her boss to send her to this meeting with Minelli, and Lisbon knew it. However, she was still waiting for the comment about her being delayed, but it didn't seem like it was coming. Instead, it appeared that he either hadn't noticed or didn't mind.

Before she could say anything else or apologize, even, he gave her another nondescript file, not too dissimilar to the one she had delivered to him. Quietly, he requested that she take a look at it immediately, before she even left his office. In silence, Lisbon opened it carefully but snapped it back shut the moment that she saw the photograph that was attached to the first page.

This was a case file that belonged to Red John.

From the weight of it, it was probably just the annotated notes of the file, but enough to give her a detailed look into the serial killer. However, that didn't explain why Minelli had given it to her right here and now.

"I would like you to read through that file; tell me any insight you might have."

"But this is Red John," she said, well aware that she was stating the obvious.

He just smiled at her as her frown deepened. Like many of the agents at the CBI, Lisbon knew the basics of the case. She was aware that he had been active since 1998, that he killed women, usually in their twenties and left a smiley face painted in his victim's blood. Over the past five years, he had built up a level of notoriety. Almost everyone knew his nickname; even the general public had picked up on it.

And since his emergence, the case had been in the hands of the CBI's Major Crimes Unit.

Seeing her consternation, Minelli elaborated. "I'm looking to transfer the case to Serious Crimes."

"But-" Lisbon started.

"Why am I asking you first?"

Lisbon nodded. She wasn't the senior agent of the unit and couldn't see any promotions happening within the foreseeable future. This was still her trial period; she had no reason to think otherwise. As far as she was concerned, Minelli should have been talking to her boss, not her.

"I'm pleased with the progress you have been making, Agent," Minelli continued eventually. "I have always had it in mind to promote you soon."

"Agent Hart-"

"Is a good cop," he interrupted again; Minelli was keen to dispel all of her concerns. "But he has already expressed an interest in moving on. When he chooses to do so, you will be taking over his position as lead agent."

She sat there, in a stunned silence. Minelli was practically suggesting that he fast-tracked her. He had made it clear from the very beginning that he had believed that she was wasted in the San Francisco Police Department, hence the reason he had head-hunted her. When she had signed on the dotted line, he had made it clear that he expected her to have a long and varied career with the CBI. However, despite the praise he had lavished on her, she still believed that she was probably too young to be leading her own unit. The same would apply even in a year or so. However, Minelli obviously wanted to show faith in her and believed she was nearly ready.

And Lisbon knew that she couldn't let him down.

After all, how many people got this kind of chance so early in their careers?

When she left the office, after stating her thanks, she was mildly surprised to bump into Jackson once again. Tucking some loose hair behind her ear, she smiled at him, but avoided making eye contact. She didn't quite know what made her feel that way; she barely knew the man. He was a passing acquaintance at most. However, the simple fact of the matter was that there was a certain look in his eyes which she wasn't sure about. Half of her wanted to run for the hills, but the rest was intrigued. Lisbon wanted to get closer to him, to work out precisely what made him tick. She shook her head and reasserted to herself that this was all ludicrous. They did not know each other and future chances to interact with him were slim.

"Good news?" he enquired.

Lisbon shrugged. "It depends on how you look at it."

"In a good enough mood to go out for a coffee with me?" he pressed on.

She smiled coyly in response. "Maybe another time."

xxx

The serial killer more commonly known as Red John took a step back to admire his handiwork. It had taken him all night to get the crime scene to look precisely how he wanted it to. The damp blood glistened on the wall in the early morning sun and he smiled.

In twenty-four hours' time, her husband would be home and his calling card – the smiley face – would culminate in the confirmation of everything the man feared.

The dread would begin to set in earlier, however. When her cell phone rang in two hours' time, for their pre-work chat, Sophie Fairweather would, uncharacteristically, be unable to answer it. He would grow more frantic with worry as she appeared to miss his each and every call. Logical reasons would fly out of the window – her phone had run out of battery, she'd left it at home before rushing off to work, it had been stolen – as he began to envisage the worst. Desperately, he would try to move around the important meetings he had scheduled, but Daniel Fairweather would find it impossible to get them to budge. After all, they had been scheduled for a long while and he hadn't wanted to leave his wife for a week.

Just when his worry would hit its peak, he would finally be able to come home to the ominously quiet house. Of course she wouldn't answer the door; he'd have to resort it digging his keys out of his briefcase instead. Red John closed his eyes as he imagined the man searching through the house, calling Sophie's name out desperately. Her car was still neatly parked on the front drive; she never bothered to walk anywhere. Ergo, she had to be in.

Finally, he would reach the master bedroom and open up the door. The smiley face would ensure that his world would come crashing down around him before he even saw the mangled body lying on the king-size bed. And the whole thing would be utterly perfect.

Red John had been studying the Fairweather family for a long while. He knew precisely how the minds of both Sophie and Daniel worked. Just how their thought processes behaved. Slowly, he had ingrained himself into their lives and became Daniel's best friend and Sophie's confidant. They remained completely oblivious to his plans. Instead, they had believed he was a godsend and that they couldn't live without him in their lives anymore.

Murder, of course, was the ultimate betrayal.

And it was Red John's way of exerting the ultimate level of control as well. So much of life was chaos and disorganized. He craved order, things happening to his specification, and what better way for him to do that than choose when his supposed friends died? Blood was all he craved during the day, when he was forced to act like a responsible member of society. At night, he allowed himself to slip out of the shadows and shine in his true colors.

Nobody knew his true identity until it was too late. And that was what made it all the more thrilling.

Slowly, he withdrew from the crime scene. As he closed the door to, he smirked.

Sophie Fairweather's fleeting similarities in appearance to a certain Teresa Lisbon were serendipitous to say the least.