Mwahahaha! I am back! Okay, so I'm pretty excited about this story...if you can't tell. To be honest with you all, I've sort of had writer's block for a while. This story has helped me get back to my writing! I love the Mentalist! And you guys reviewing helped. THANKS!!!! As always, read and review. But most of all, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the Mentalist or any of the wonderful characters that make this show...wonderful! I do, however, own the bad guys!

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"Here."

Lisbon looked up numbly as Van Pelt stuck a cup of coffee under her nose, the pungent steam of the drink tickling her nose. She wiped away a frustrated tear and smiled up at the young agent before accepting the coffee. "Thanks," she said softly.

"You looked like you needed it," she added sweetly.

Lisbon nodded. "Yeah, I did." She sniffled. Pull yourself together, she chastised herself as more tears threatened to escape her eyes. She looked back up at Grace.

"We're going to find him," Grace said with more conviction than she felt. She was worried about Jane. True, he had been kidnapped, and that scared the heck out of her. Scared the heck out of them all. He was Patrick Jane. He didn't get kidnapped...at least, that's what they thought.

But that really wasn't what scared the young CBI agent. What scared her more was what they had found in his house.

As soon as they had received the call, every CBI agent on Lisbon's team had immediately gone to Jane's house to investigate; some of them were still in their pajamas when they pulled up. Lisbon had been waiting outside for them, Jane's discarded cell phone clutched tightly in her hands. When she had seen them, she had wiped away a tear and put on her "boss look" and began giving out hurried orders. With guns drawn, they entered the house.

All of them were taken back by the lack of furniture or character in the rather large house; there was nothing to suggest that Jane was the charismatic man that he had showed them everyday for six years. Little blank squares were up all over the house where pictures once hung. A single chair and a TV were the only things that suggested someone lived there, though it barely looked used. The same could be said for the rest of the house. There were no pictures, little furniture, and a few cooking utensils in the kitchen that were definitely never used. No real sign of occupancy. But that's not what surprised them the most.

Van Pelt had been sent upstairs with Rigsby to check out the upper rooms. When Grace had opened the door to Jane's bedroom, her knees had buckled underneath her. She remember feeling Rigsby's strong arms catch her as she fell, his voice filled with worry when he asked her what was wrong. All she could do was point with a shaky hand to the symbol painted over the lonely mattress lying in the barren room.

"Red John..."

Grace shook her head and pulled herself out of the reverie. It was a horrible seeing it once; she didn't want to keep reliving it. Lisbon, on the other hand, hadn't been able to get the picture out of her head since they had returned. When she had seen Red John's symbol over Jane's bed, she immediately thought the worst. The thought that Red John had gotten a hold of Jane was too much for her to handle. She was almost in tears until she realized that it wasn't fresh blood but old, dried blood. Not Red John's MO. It had been there a while. Eight years, to be exact.

The original symbol that Red John had painted on Jane's wall in his family's blood still hung there, staring down evilly from the wall at anyone who dared to enter the room. The nightmares that he must have made Lisbon shiver. When he had said he was out for revenge, Jane had meant it. Red John consumed his being; she was sure of that now. He was more messed up than she thought.

"It wasn't his blood," came Grace's gentle voice.

Lisbon looked up at her sympathetic smile and nodded. "I know...it's just..." Her voice dropped off and she looked down at her coffee cup, her eyes stinging with the strain of holding back tears. The pain he was still going through must be unbearable, and her heart was breaking for his. Not to mention the fact that he was still missing...

She felt a hand land gently on her shoulder. She looked back into Grace's understanding eyes. "He's Jane," she said with a smile. "He can get out of anything." I hope...

Lisbon smiled back, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yeah, sure." She sighed and set the coffee cup down. "Did Cho or Rigsby find anything important at the house?" she asked, her emotional barriers up again. If they were going to find Jane, she needed to put her personal feelings for him aside and focus on the job. Treat it just like another kidnapping case, she told herself. That's the only way you'll find him.

Grace studied her face for a moment. She hated it when her boss closed up like that, but she decided not to say anything. It was for the best. She'd talk when she was ready. "Nothing too important besides his phone in the drive way." She watched as a flicker of emotion passed over Lisbon's face. That phone call must have been hard to hear.

"And nothing else? No prints on the phone? Nothing?" she said, trying to keep her voice from cracking.

Grace shook her head. "No. These guys must have been planning this for a while. The only sign of a struggle was from an upturned rug at the bottom of the stairs." She watched as Lisbon became more frustrated. Jane meant a lot to her; that was obvious. He meant a lot to all of them...even if he was a pain sometimes. "What about the call? Didn't the guy say he'd been in touch with you?"

Lisbon nodded and took a sip of her coffee. "Yes. But you know I can't just sit here and do nothing," she snapped.

Grace nodded. "I know, but what else are we going to do?"

Lisbon gave a frustrated sigh and bit the inside of her cheek. "I don't know." Great, they had no lead and no Jane to help them find one. He was usually the one that could pull a lead out of nowhere, even if he had to irritate people to get it. She wasn't too good at doing that sort of thing. Always played by the book. She rubbed a hand over her face. If only she could think like Jane!

She blinked as the last thought crossed her mind. It was perfect! Think like Jane, not like Lisbon. She grinned and immediately ran over to the brown couch Jane loved so much. She drew in a deep breath as she saw his form lying there across it, smirking at her. Tears played around the edge of her eyes. Keep it together. She cleared the thought from her head and laid herself across it. Grace stared at her.

"Um...What are you doing?" she asked, completely caught off-guard by her boss's abnormal behavior.

Lisbon tucked her hands behind her head and closed her eyes. Wow, this couch is pretty comfy. "If we want to find Jane, we have to think like Jane." She laid there for a few minutes and began going through everything she had learned from Jane before he went missing. All the facts he had divulged sipping his tea...and the ominous note...

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open.

"I got it!" she shouted, almost gleeful. Grace jumped at the sudden outburst.

"Got what?"

A lead. She smiled and stood up, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. She had to get Cho and Rigsby back here ASAP. "Now, I can see why Jane likes that couch so much," she smiled. "It's very...informative."

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Oh...that hurts...

Jane groaned as he began waking up, his body sending him little painful reminders that he had recently been forcefully kidnapped...and managed to tick someone off in the process according to his sore face and stomach. He tried to pull his hands up to his aching head, but found they were duct taped behind his back. Well, that complicates things, he said to himself. He opened his eyes to get a better look at his surroundings only to find out it hurt too badly to do so. He hissed in pain as the sudden change of light caused his head to spin. Okay, different plan. He decided to feel his surroundings first...a little trick he had picked up from being temporarily blind.

The first thing he noticed was that he was lying on his side on top of a rather comfortable bed with warm and gentle sunlight hitting his face. It was daytime. He guessed he had been out for a few hours. Next, he felt the covers with his fingers. Silk sheets. Very nice. He sniffed. Cologne...the expensive kind. He sniffed again. Clive Christian No. 1 for men. Oh, no... He was starting to put the pieces together and didn't like what he was finding. He needed more information on his surroundings.

Time to take a look around, he thought to himself.

Slowly, he began opening his eyes. He sighed in relief as his head only gave him a dull throb. Perfect. His eyes took in the room. Mahogany furniture was arranged very neatly along the beige walls of the enormous room and a couch perched in the middle of the room a few feet in front of the bed Jane was lying on. An undoubtedly locked door stood a little ways off to the side, and a beautiful, crystal light fixture hung on the beautifully painted ceiling above the bed. There were two very large windows on the right side of the room, the curtains drawn back to let in the bright light of the day. A large, gold-framed mirror hung in between the two windows covering most of the space. Ornate paintings and decorations hung on the walls making the room seem more art museum than bedroom...or prison cell.

Jane tried to pull himself off of the bed, but gave a little moan when his stomach reminded him of the two taser burns his little kidnapper friends had left him. He lied back down and took in a few deep breaths. After the burning pain subsided, he awkwardly maneuvered himself to a sitting position without putting too much strain on his abdomen. He then carefully slipped off of the tall bed and landed on the cold, marble floors below. He grimaced. They took his slippers from him. He sighed and shrugged and made his way to the mirror.

"Oh, dear," he said aloud as he saw his face in the mirror. There was dried blood on his temple where he had been hit, and his face had a crescent shaped bruise on the side. He looked down at his abdomen where he'd been shocked and sighed. "These were my favorites," he muttered as he saw the taser holes in his blue pajama shirt. He made a little frustrated noise.

After a few muttered curses about "stupid kidnappers" and "stolen slippers," Jane began to look around for an escape. He looked at the windows to see if he could possibly open them and crawl out from there. The windows were indeed able to be opened, but the fact that he was two stories from the ground with nothing to assist him down made him rethink that idea. He studied the outside of what he assumed to be a house. If he could find a road, he might be able to figure out where he was. But with trees surrounding the whole complex, he knew that could prove to be impossible.

He shrugged and turned back to the door. It was probably locked, but if he could find something to pick it with, his problem would be solved. The consultant sat down on the floor and pulled his taped hands under and over his feet and to his front. He smiled. One step closer to freedom. He made his way over to the door and inspected the knob. A classic doorknob-style lock. He could pick that easily...if he could find a hairpin or paperclip.

He quickly walked over to the drawers of the desk and opened them quietly. Everything would be ruined if they heard him up and moving. As far a they knew, he was still passed out cold on the nice silk sheets. They're loss, Jane chuckled to himself as he rummaged through the first drawer. He frowned. It was empty. He tried the other drawers, but, to his disappointment, there was nothing in any of them. He even searched the closet and chest of drawers for something but came up empty every time. He sighed and got on his knees to look under the bed. It was desperate, but he had to hope. His eyes scanned the underside of the bed frame and picked up a little glint in the corner. He smiled. He found one.

"What do we have here?" he whispered as he pulled the pin out. He sat back on his haunches and studied it. The little hairpin was black with a small, silver symbol glued to it. His eyes widened. It was the same pattern and shape as the broach on the Golden Gate Bridge victim. That confirmed a few more of his theories. He had to get out of there...now.

Jane quickly made his way to the door, his heart pounding in his chest. The woman who died had been in that bedroom. Probably killed in that bedroom. If he was correct as to whom the kidnappers got they're orders from, he was in a lot of trouble.

He bent down to the door and stretched the pin into a straight line and stuck it into the door. He jiggled the metal piece in the door. Just a little to the...Click. The door unlocked. Jane sighed in relief and prepared to open it. He paused, listening for any guards standing by his door. Nothing. He smiled. They really had underestimated him. He dropped the pin and prepared to walk out of his luxurious prison cell.

The door swung open, Jane praying the door didn't have a loud squeak. He let out a small breath of relief as it opened without a hitch. So far, so good. He gently closed it back behind him. He heard it lock behind him. Quietly, he crept across the very nicely polished marble floors and tiptoed gently down the staircase. His eyes darted here and there as he made his way down the stairs. So far, he hadn't seen one guard or servant in the house. That's odd, he thought to himself, You would think they would have more security around a place as expensive as this. Jane ate his words a few seconds later as he saw a young woman walk across the floor, her head buried in a magazine. With a little startled jump, he quickly ducked behind the rails and watched her leave. That was close, he thought as his heart pounded in his throat.

The woman disappeared behind a corner. As soon as he heard a door close, Jane was on the move again. He hit the bottom of the stairs and looked around. There were four different ways he could go. He looked to his right at a game room where several doors were located. The woman had gone through one of them. He decided not to press his luck going through there. He looked to his left where a very beautifully crafted door stood. He ran over to it, his bare feet slapping gently across the floor. He tugged on the handle, but found it to be locked. He sighed and looked forward. An arch towered above him and lead to a sitting room with several more doors inside of it. Might as well, he thought.

He peeked his head around the corner and saw nothing. Just a few large couches, chairs, tables, and books lying here and there. A typical sitting room but, thankfully, without the people. He silently made his way across the red carpeted floors and to the closest door. He pulled the handle. Locked. He tried the next door and frowned when he found it locked as well. It was the same with the rest of the doors in the room. He sighed. Perfect. Why didn't he keep the stupid hairpin again?

He tried one more door and smiled as the doorknob turned easily. He was finally getting somewhere...or not. Of course. He sighed as the door opened to reveal...an empty closet. He rolled his eyes and closed it back. Rotten luck.

As Jane tried to decide what he was going to do next, he heard voices drifting through the mansion. He listened as they spoke. He wasn't able to catch all of what they were saying, but the way they were coming...that was a different story. Jane's breath hitched in his throat as the voices started coming closer to the sitting room. From the sounds of it, they were headed straight for him.

"We don't know where he went." Jane jerked in shock as he heard the mystery caller's voice right outside of the sitting room. He bit his lip and looked back at the closet. This stinks...

He quickly opened the door and ducked into the little space. And not a moment too soon, for the voices where just now entering the room. Jane held his breath as he listened to what he assumed, by the sound of the footsteps, to be two men.

"You lost him!?!" shouted a rather angry voice. Jane jerked again. He knew that voice, but couldn't place it. "How could you lose him!?!" the angry and familiar voice chastised. "He's a consultant for heavens sake!" Jane wrinkled his nose.

I think that was an insult, he thought grumpily to himself.

"I don't know. We went in to get him, and he was gone. The only clue we have is this."

There was a moment of silence, then, "A hairpin? He got out using a hairpin?"

"He's very resourceful," said Mystery Caller.

Jane smirked. Resourceful? I'll have to tell Lisbon that...if I get out of here in one piece, that is.

There was an angered noise from the familiar voice. "Find him. Do you hear me? I went through great pains to get that man here. So don't you dare screw this up, or you will be joining that beautiful young lady under the Golden Gate Bridge. Understood?"

Well, at least I found our killer, he thought positively to himself.

"Yes, sir," came the forced reply.

"Good," the man sighed. "I don't mean to be harsh, James," Jane smiled. He had a name. Now if he could get that name to Lisbon... "It's just," He heard one of the men sit down. "Mr. Jane is the only thing standing between me and a jail cell."

Jane's mind whirled as the last words hit his ears. His heart slammed furiously in his chest as the familiar voice now became known. The last piece of his little puzzle had finally come together, and it fit all too well. Expensive silk sheets and perfume, golden rimmed mirrors, the woman in the hallway, the jail cell; they all came down to one person. A person who had killed hundreds of people who were in his way. A person who could kill anyone he wanted and get away with it, because he had "people." A person who had kidnapped Jane to stop Lisbon from going on with her investigation against him.

A person known as Antonio Emilio...

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So, do you like it? Hmmm? Its a cliffy and not as exciting as the last chapter, but it sets the next chapter up quite nicely. Some plans and hunches will be revealed next chapter. Review please! Thanks! Until next time!