One year later…

She was multitasking when the doorbell rang: talking on the phone to Rigsby, looking for the keys of the CBI-issue SUV and trying to put on her leather jacket. She didn't bother checking who was outside, she just opened the door. Fran Ramirez's calling was unique, and Lisbon wouldn't want her any other way.

And besides, she had been the one calling Fran just half an hour before, and she knew how Fran worked. Her friend was like a Swiss clock: always perfectly on time. That was yet another thing she wouldn't have had any different. God only knew how hard it may be finding someone else just like her: punctual and who didn't complain about her odd hours.

"Yes. No. No. No, I told you that there's no need for you to…yes, I know where it is. No! Wayne, Wayne, I told you I can go there on my own. What do you mean….? Okay, listen, you know what? I'll just use my satnav. No, no. I told you, not to! Okay, good. Then, what about… uhm, so, they didn't say what they think? And what about Agent Johnson, what did she say? Okay, so we are pretty sure… I'll be there in an hour or so. I'll see you there."

She hung up and embraced the older Hispanic woman with a bright, but tired, smile. In the last year, Fran had been like the mother Lisbon had been robbed of when she was too young. "Everything's in working order right now, but if you have a problem, call me."

"Teresa, honey, you are the one with the problems, if they called you while you are still on leave."

Although she should have been sad - Teresa being called in meant someone was dead - Fran couldn't help but feel proud of her achievements. It didn't matter that they weren't related by blood. But maybe, life was teaching them a lesson; it didn't take blood to be a family. And if the CBI was calling her, it was because they thought she was the only one who could do something about their current issue. They needed her and they always would, as long as she was with them.

Like she did on every occasion she went away, Lisbon took one last look around. Then, she left the spare copy of her keys with Fran. Although her actions were the same, her behavior was different. Teresa went rigid, and didn't offer a last kiss to her surrogate mother, nor did she talk. She smiled, though, but it just worried Fran furthermore. The smile didn't reach Teresa's eyes; her expression was forced.

She didn't even need to ask Teresa if the call and the case in general were giving her a bad feeling. She could see that on her face.

But maybe, Teresa thought, she was just being paranoid, after everything that had happened in the last few years… Hightower's forced resignation, Wainwrights' death, and LaRoche was sent to a God Forsaken hellhole. Then, Bertram being demoted over the way he had handled the whole Red John affair and Van Pelt decided to end her police career, unable to let it go of O'Laughlin. Soon after, Brenda Leigh Johnson, former CIA, former LAPD deputy chief, became her new superior. But she still had to deal with Jane killing Carter, Jane sleeping with Lorelei and Jane killing the real Red John. And finally there was Jane leaving. Her life… sometimes, she was so tired she didn't even feel like thinking about her life. It just made her sad.

A red light blinked before her eyes and she stopped the car, realizing for the first time she had been on the road. She run a hand through her long hair, and berated herself. She had vowed to stop thinking about him, the man who had betrayed her in every possible way, and yet, she simply couldn't.

And if her hunch was correct, and given that Johnson corroborated her, it had to be, she already knew that she was going to land up thinking about him 24/7 during this case.

Besides, she just had to be right. Last time she had been so wrong was with him, and that was a mistake she wasn't willing to repeat any time soon.

….

Being engulfed by thoughts, memories and regrets, all related to him, made the journey tortuous. Even though it "only" took her 54 minutes to reach her destination, it still felt like an eternity.

She knew it was wrong but, even if she'd never dare to admit it out loud, she was missing him. Lisbon was still missing both Patrick and Jane. She knew it was stupid, but he had been her Patrick for just a few days. And she missed it, him. And she didn't even bother thinking about the fact that she felt guilty when she was with him. Any guilt she felt because of Jane was consolidated and had become a part of her. She was used to it and sometimes, it even reminded her that she was still alive.

"Agent Lisbon, over here!"

Agent Johnson's voice, with her strong southern accent, awoke her from her reverie, and suddenly Lisbon was brought back full force to her role as team leader of the SCU. The sound of sirens and radio static, the blinking red and blue lights of the patrol cars made her remember who she was supposed to be right now. Mistakes were something she couldn't afford in this situation. So, she had to stop being Teresa for now; it was a luxury she couldn't afford.

"Ma'am."

In the dark of the moonless night of Desmont, Lisbon smiled as she faced the blond woman. With Brenda Leigh Johnson her smiles were never polite and formal, they were honest and genuine. Despite everything, she couldn't help but liking the military brat from Georgia: Brenda was a closer, just like Jane still was somewhere. She solved cases and got confessions which led to convictions. And, instead of following the rules, she had always like bending them a tiny bit to her needs. It wasn't always a good thing; in the end, it had cost her the position of Chief of Police. But at least her confessions had always been somehow bulletproof in tribunals.

But what Lisbon really liked, though, was how much they resembled each other. They were both human disasters in their private lives. Both isolated by their own families for many reasons. Both were unable to have proper relationships because of their respective jobs. They even shared the same fondness for cookies, and particularly, for Fran's works of art.

"I'm so sorry to have to call you back, Agent Lisbon. I know you still have few days of leave left, but due to your interest in both cases, I was wondering if maybe…."

She looked at her boss and Lisbon hoped that she realized that she understood the necessity and didn't mind in the slightest. But, she wasn't supposed to just jump on the case right now. During her time off, she talked with Rigsby, with Cho and they kept her updated. Part of her would have liked to kill Brenda, as much as she loved her. They should have called her far sooner than this.

Then, Lisbon's eyes met with Brenda's, and the dark haired cop found herself staring at something she knew too well. Suddenly, she remembered the rumors and speculation she had heard about this former CIA interrogator, and she understood. Brenda Leigh Johnson needed to fix things. Not just cases, but things, people, everything and everyone, and that included the SCU team leader. Johnson was trying to help her out.

But… she was right about the case and she hated it. Especially in this particular situation.

"It's ok, ma'am, I understand. I've been on the job long enough to know how it works…"

This may have been her job – and for the most part, she did love it - but there were times she couldn't stand it too. Like when she had to renounce to certain things in her life to get it done.

Rigsby appeared out of nowhere, materializing among the crowd of police officers and CSI technicians. He nodded in their direction, signaling the green light to finally take possession of the crime scene. Entering the suburban home, Teresa kept glancing around, looking for signs of something untoward, but there was no evidence. At first glance, everything looked perfectly normal.

"This way, boss. Ma'am." He nodded once again once they were by his side. "Cho's canvassing the area."

He didn't wait for her to ask and all Lisbon could do was nod in appreciation. Despite Van Pelt's leaving, the team still knew how to operate like a well-oiled machine, even when she wasn't there to keep order herself. Johnson kept looking at them and the satisfaction in her expression made it all the better. She appreciated being able to see the respect from her superior, or maybe…

No, Lisbon thought, it couldn't be. Johnson wasn't hiding anything. It didn't mean a thing that she was biting her lips. She was just nervous; it had to be that. Or maybe, it really did mean something. Or maybe she was being paranoid, due to working with Jane for so long. Minelli and Bosco were probably right; he had changed her, ruined her in more ways than she had originally thought.

"He's escalating. It's the second time he's killed this month. Before, it was every two months or so…." Rigsby pondered. Lisbon suppressed a smile of pride; it would have been inappropriate. But Rigsby was a damn good cop. All it had taken was the removal of Van Pelt and the addition of Ben and Sarah to the equation for him to meet his true potential. And in part, he had done it to help her through her current debacle. Lisbon appreciated that kind of loyalty more than she could possibly say.

Lisbon nodded again, but she was still watching Brenda. Her boss wasn't behaving normally, that was for certain. She wasn't sure she had already seen the other woman behaving in such a way, but she knew she was upset. And to make Brenda upset, it took a lot.

Just a case like that could do the trick, something that didn't even seem real, that looked like taken from a horror movie. Or maybe…the past could do something like that to her too.

The first body they found was in the corridor. It belonged to the husband and he had been killed with an iron bat. They didn't stop, and not only because the coroner was still processing the scene along with a guy from CSI, but also because they wanted to see her first. They moved to the bedroom, and with a gloved hand, Lisbon opened the door once again. She almost threw up when she saw the spectacle, almost the same scene as in the past. It was almost identical to the one she saw ten years ago, and like so many others they had seen in the last few months.

Carolyn, the wife, was on the bed, cut open and had been left to bleed to death. The many cuts were in the well-known style that Lisbon and Rigsby had witnessed so many times in the past. Her blue eyes were open, glassy and stone cold, facing a wall. They turned to look in the same direction she did, and there it was, his calling card. The once-plain wall had been decorated by a deadly picture, a smiley face drawn with the blood of the victim, with two fingers of a gloved hand. It was not exactly like Red John used to do, but close enough.

Lisbon was about to speak when another voice cut her off before she could say a single word.

"That's not Red John, I can assure you. I'd say a black sheep escaped when we shut down his operation, but I'd not be surprised if it was just the work of a copycat."

She turned slowly, and she saw him standing right before her. Lisbon thought he wasn't going to return. She thought he had listened to her for once. She was still trying to avoid him, but here he was, as handsome and charismatic as ever. He even appeared to be well-rested now. His presence filled the room, gathered all the attention around his persona.

At Lisbon's side, Brenda started staring guiltily at her feet. She did it. She had called Patrick Jane back.

Teresa shivered, unable to find the right words. Still, she fought with all her strength. She couldn't lower her walls right now, not with him around.

"That's not someone from his network," she said, confidently. Jane looked at her quizzically, with a small, curious smile. Right now, she hated him. Did he really think they couldn't survive without him?

"Oh, interesting, Lisbon. Are you telling me that you honestly believe that it's Red John himself?"

She laughed at him, cold and callously. She didn't like that he was trying his best to make them appear incompetent.

"Oh, of course not, Mr. Jane. If I am not mistaken, last year you were able to break the mole in the FBI, and were finally able to get your revenge. And thanks to your help, we did shut down his whole operation." She hissed the words, trying desperately to hurt him. She left the room, trying her best to seem calm and controlled. But, when she passed at his side, a little too close for comfort, she still shivered, as she felt like he wanted to try to touch her.

She didn't like that he was there with them, and she disliked his attempt to show a display of physical intimacy with her even more so. He didn't have any claim over her now. If he thought that squeezing her hand was enough to allow him back in her existence after he had been gone for over a year, he was wrong. She knew what she told him and she had no intention of changing her mind. Still, he should have fought for her; he should have tried to change her mind even after he had betrayed her and the whole team, with everything they stood for.

He was the child she had always accused him of being.

She exchanged a couple of words with CSI, with the promise that evidence would be on her desk first thing the following morning. She could imagine Jane being skeptic, after all, a good number of CSI agents were corrupted and among Red John's legion. But Lisbon herself had been among the ones who hand-picked this unit. They finally had a CSI team worthy of the name and the paycheck.

At her back, she could feel Jane smirking. The bastard had been following her the whole time.

She turned ready to fight him, her rage made ten times bigger, stronger, because of his nonchalance. He wasn't supposed to be there; he didn't deserve it. He probably didn't even have the legal authority to be on site. "Leave," she just said, clenching and unclenching her fists at her side.

"Nope," he answered, rolling and popping the p, mocking her a tiny bit. The old, familiar urge to hit him came back full force, and for a second, she could pretend the last year had never happened.

Then, she remembered, and she fought back tears she didn't want to share for him in front of him. She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve being heartbroken over him all over again.

He read her pain, her sufferance, and her fear, and he wanted to reach out for her. He wanted to tell her he had just tried to give her the necessary time and space, and that he was going to eventually return to her.

He couldn't. It wasn't time yet.

"I mean, I can't leave. The Director and Special Agent Johnson asked me to consult on the case."

The weight of the world fell on her shoulders, and under such pressure, her whole being collapsed. She had thought she was going to never see him again. But here he was, and he was going to stay and help them on this case.

The tears were almost there, but she fought against them. Crying right now would be dangerous because he was dangerous. He had already broken her heart once, but now too much was at stake. She wasn't the only part of the equation to consider any longer. She'd never tell him how much she still loved him, no way. He needed to think she hated him, that she wasn't ready or willing, to forgive and forget what he had done. She simply turned away from him and left, coming back in the crowd of police officers and feds, without saying a sole word.

She knew his gaze was focused on her; she didn't need to turn to know this. What she didn't know, as she felt herself burning for him yet again despite everything, was what his eyes looked like in that moment.