Author's note: Thanks once more to everyone who has reviewed/ favorited/ followed etc. It means a great deal to me and it's a wonderful motivator when I see a new message :D

A slightly shorter chapter from me this time round. The reason for this will be apparent once you get to the end...

As always, I hope you enjoy and any and all feedback is greatly appreciated :)


Jane and Lisbon headed over to the CBI as soon as she had wolfed down her pancakes and he had scanned through the Red John files once more. The tension from the night before had dissipated, but Jane was well aware that it was only a matter of time before the dam burst and the two of them were forced to make a decision one way or another about their feelings for each other. The fact that a change of relationship between them seemed inevitable gave him some kind of hope that dealing with the persistent frustration the case was causing would all be worth it in the end.

As they pulled up to the security gate, Jane watched as the familiar group of reporters stood impatiently outside the CBI offices. They had been a mainstay for the last week, the public's frustration into the lack of progress with Red John a perfect opportunity for the media to constantly hound the detectives. Jane suddenly realized just why Bertram had given them the new case the previous morning; if they fell on the wrong side of the media there would definitely be hell to pay.

"I think we should tell the team," he announced suddenly as Lisbon made the turn into the CBI parking lot. She turned to face him, head flashing around and confusion on her face.

"Tell who what?"

"Cho and the others, we should tell them about the list. About the rules. Everything." He knew, deep down, that it was time. He and Lisbon weren't getting anywhere on their own; they needed the team behind them.

"Why now?" Lisbon's tone was questioning. Jane knew why; he'd spent the last few weeks adamant that it was the two of them together, alone, and now he wanted to involve the team. Even he could see it was a move straight out of left field.

"I don't think we could keep it from them much longer - the countdown's becoming too obvious. I mean, even Partridge managed to figure out that it was significant at Caldwell's crime scene. And we're practically at a dead end - maybe a set of fresh eyes and some new opinions will help us." Jane sighed and continued to look out of the window, watching as the sunny outside gave way to the dark underground spaces of the parking lot. "I want them to know so they can protect themselves too. It's not fair for them to be kept in the dark now. They need to know." He was resolute in his tone.

Lisbon was quiet as she parked the car and unbuckled her seat belt. She twisted to face him and sat quietly for a couple of moments. Jane knew she was mentally analyzing the pros and cons of informing the team. He had done the same the previous night after she had left him alone in her office. After much deliberation he had decided that the pros far outweighed the cons; a reversal of his reasoning a couple of months ago.

"I agree," she said finally, her voice determined. "You're right. They need to know, if only to keep themselves safe."

"I'm glad you agree," he replied. "Although I think I was probably going to tell them even if you didn't…"

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" She chuckled as she got out of the car and waited for him to join her. Together they headed into the CBI, a new sense of purpose surrounding them.


The five of them headed out to the local park on the pretense of investigating a new lead in Bertram's case. Jane could sense that the other members of the team were immediately suspicious of himself and Lisbon, probably with good reason. Still, the fact that they were about to be informed of exactly why he and Lisbon had been so secretive allowed Jane to relax just a little. He hoped they were making the right decision, but knowing how competent the other three investigators were, he felt assured that his and Lisbon's choice was correct.

They sat quietly at a park bench, and Jane sat back as Lisbon started by apologizing for how the two of them had behaved over the past few weeks.

"So guys," Lisbon said, watching the rest of the team carefully, "Jane and I brought you out here because, well, we wanted to say sorry first and foremost. We know we've been holding something back from you for weeks, and we both wanted to apologize to you about it. You see..."

"What it comes down to," Jane interrupted, sensing that the others weren't entirely convinced with Lisbon's apology, "is that Red John is back and he's decided to change the rules."

"How?" Cho was straight to the point as usual. It was a trait that Jane admired in the other man.

"It's a long story," Jane started, glancing at Lisbon then the others. "I'll start from the beginning."

He spoke then, sitting on the edge of the park bench, occasionally standing up to pace and make his point. He told them about Lorelei, about the secrets she had revealed. He told them about the list of names he had written, how he had whittled it down from thousands to seven.

"I reluctantly told Lisbon about the list when Red John killed Eileen Turner," Jane admitted some time later, taking a moment to sit next to Lisbon and look at the other members of the team.

"But that was months ago!" Van Pelt said, staring at the two of them accusingly. "Why all the silence until now?"

Jane sighed again, looking back at the younger agent.

"We wanted to protect you. We didn't think it was fair to burden the three of you with this, to give you more cause than usual to worry about yourselves and your loved ones. Lisbon and I," he signalled between himself and the woman by his side, "we felt it was our duty to finish this on our own."

Rigsby stood suddenly, moving slowly to stand in front of Jane and Lisbon. Jane had never realized just how tall the younger man could be if he stood up straight.

"But we're a team. Red John is our case too, has been for years. Look at everything we've faced together: Bosco, Johnson," he looked over at Grace sympathetically before he continued, "O'Laughlin."

Cho nodded and stood next to his partner, the same determined look on his face. Jane was briefly reminded of his nightmare from the day before.

"We've always been in danger with this case; it's part and parcel of the job."

Jane watched as Lisbon smiled slightly; clearly she appreciated the support and solidarity of her team.

"I know guys, I know. We felt the fewer people knew the easier it would be to solve this, to track him down. But," she paused looking around, checking that there were no obvious eavesdroppers, "we're getting out of our depth here. Red John is screwing with us so much that Jane and I don't know what's going to happen next. We need you guys to help us out."

"That's if you can forgive us," Jane provided, smiling at them.

"Of course we forgive you," Grace said, shaking her head in a combination of both frustration and wry amusement. "It was never about forgiveness. We just hated the fact that you didn't seem to trust us. That we weren't good enough to help you."

"Well," Jane said, clapping his hands and standing up, "bygones be bygones right? How'd you like to help us now?"

"It's your choice though," Lisbon interjected, raising an eyebrow at Jane's sudden enthusiasm. "But honestly guys, there's no one else that we'd trust with this…"

"I'm in," Cho said without hesitation as he folded his arms across his chest, a determined look on his face.

"Me too…" Van Pelt and Rigsby answered simultaneously and the tension broke between the team as the two youngest agents laughed shyly at their synchronicity.

"Excellent," Jane replied, a soft smile on his face. "Now, I'm sure you've seen the numbers on the backs of the victims?"

The next 20 minutes was spent catching the team up on the suspects on the list and just how their previous two victims had essentially reduced the number from seven to five.


After their impromptu visit to the park, the rest of the morning had passed reasonably quietly, and Jane had spent a good hour on his couch deep in thought. He had a couple of ideas about the disappearance of one of their suspects (something they'd discovered on their return) but it seemed that everyone else was too busy following up other leads. It didn't matter really - he'd fill Lisbon in when she returned. She'd left a couple of hours ago with Cho to follow up on another suspect; a rival gang leader who had taken an interest in their victim the week before for some inane reason. He hadn't really been listening, but he was sure he'd heard something about 'violent convictions' and 'bulletproof vests' so he'd declined to volunteer to accompany them. He was good at many things, but being around guns and potentially violent criminals wasn't really his strong suit.

There was nothing else to be done until Lisbon and Cho returned so Jane shifted his concentration onto the Red John case. He lay on the couch and tried to focus on the latest details he and Lisbon had gathered about the most recent victims. While the others were beginning to wrap their heads around the fact that each of their victims was linked to someone they knew, Jane was still trying to piece together just what Red John was trying to achieve. Was he trying to help? Or was he purposefully misleading them? Jane wasn't entirely sure, but he did know that he and Lisbon had to trust their own instincts, their own investigation. Allowing Red John to dictate the course of their questions and queries would inevitably be disastrous; Red John already appeared to have a significant advantage over them and Jane was incredibly reluctant to hand him another on a silver platter if he could help it. Still, he and Lisbon had been able to cross Smith and Stiles off his list, and they'd achieved that by following their own paths of inquiry. Jane was confident that he could put the pictures of those two men to the bottom of the pile and concentrate his focus on the remaining five men. Haffner, McAllister, Kirkland, Partridge, Bertram. Haffner, McAllister, Kirkland, Partridge, Bertram…

It briefly crossed his mind that Red John could still be playing him; that his list of suspects didn't hold the identity of the serial killer at all. He hated himself for considering it, because it would inevitably lead him to doubt his own decisions. He'd known Lorelei was telling the truth about meeting Red John before, had seen the sincerity in her eyes as she'd accidentally let that vital piece of information slip past her lips. No, he was sure his list was correct, knew that Red John was one of those seven men. Still…

He sat up quickly, startling Grace who was sitting at her desk.

"You ok Jane?" She asked, looking at him in concern. He smiled at her in reassurance.

"I'm fine, just need a cup of tea I think. You want anything while I'm there?"

The younger agent shook her head, gesturing to the steaming mug of coffee that sat next to her computer.

"I'm good thanks. I would have offered but you looked deep in thought." She looked guilty for not providing him with his favorite beverage. He waved away her apology, not at all offended.

"It's ok, you're right, I was thinking about the case and kind of zoned out. Probably wouldn't have noticed even if you'd asked."

Grace didn't reply, just grinned at him and turned back to face her screen, clearly in the middle of some important background check. Jane stood up and stretched his arms above his head before wandering off in the direction of the break room. He stared at the kettle as it boiled and tried to decide between Earl Grey and Darjeeling. He became acutely aware of the loud noise in the bullpen, and figured that if he was going to get any serious work done in Lisbon's absence, he would need to go somewhere a little quieter after he'd finished his cup of tea. He decided that even the sanctuary of Lisbon's office wouldn't drown out the sound of the team's investigations. He needed somewhere peaceful, somewhere away from the chaotic sound of the bullpen, somewhere he could just sit and think…


15 minutes later Jane was making his way up the familiar stairs to the attic. He hadn't been up here in a couple of months, not since he and Lisbon had cleaned up the fractured disk and cleared everything out. She'd agreed that the place was probably compromised and they'd simply shut the door and walked away. He found that this morning though, in the midst of their newest case and the continuing investigation into Red John's latest murders, that he wanted the solitude of his old haunt.

He was surprised when he reached the doorway to find it partially open and, while it wasn't impossible that someone could have come up here at some point in the period of his absence, there was something in his gut that told him all was not right. He'd been positive that he and Lisbon had padlocked the door that night.

He pushed open the door, the metal screeching as it ran along the rails. Jane froze as he crossed the threshold, panic flowing through him immediately. He stopped dead at the sight before him, and felt bile rise in his throat.

The attic walls were covered floor to ceiling in the familiar red faces; big and small grins smiled malevolently at him, each one a sign of evil. Jane wondered how many people's blood had flowed to allow Red John to have this much gruesome paint and he took a tiny step into the room. He felt violated; this had been his makeshift home, his sanctuary for years and now Red John had claimed it for his own. When had he been here? How had he known that Jane would come up here today of all days?

Jane didn't know how fresh the paintings were, but they looked dry. He flashed his mind back to who out of the list had been in the area the last couple of days: Bertram and Partridge for sure, but had Haffner or Kirkland visited when they hadn't been around? Had McAllister had any business in Sacramento?

He spotted something out of the corner of his eye as he took in the macabre vision in front of him - a singular piece of white paper resting on the desk. Jane moved forward hoping to read it. He should call Cho and the others, should let someone else know what had happened, should call Lisbon…

He couldn't help himself though and stepped towards the paper, reaching out to pick it up. It didn't matter if his fingerprints got on it; Red John was more careful than that. The sheet of paper was folded in half and Jane flicked it open, reading the printed words carefully.

Dear Mr Jane,

Are you enjoying the new game as much as I am? I certainly enjoyed seeing yourself and Special Agent Lisbon wander aimlessly around the motel the other day. As I said before Mr Jane, I will always be one step ahead of you and your lack of progress is a great source of amusement to me.

On the note of our dear Special Agent, I wonder if you know where she is right now… I know I do.

You'd better hurry, I might get impatient.

RJ

Dread filled him and he gripped the paper in his hand until it crumpled. He raced out of the room, phone in his hand already pressing 1 on his speed dial. There was no answer and a new level of terror filled him. Red John knew where Lisbon was and he didn't. They'd been so careful, how had this happened? He flew down the stairs; phone still stuck to his ear, his finger constantly hitting redial.

He was yelling incoherently by the time he got into the bullpen, grabbing the attention of everyone he passed as he reached Rigsby's desk. The tall agent stood up and saw the panicked look in the consultant's eyes and immediately put both of his strong hands on Jane's shoulders to steady him. Jane felt his legs start to give way and his vision blur.

"Jane? What the hell man? Calm down!" Rigsby shook him slightly, which seemed to bring Jane temporarily out of his panic.

"He's been here. He's got Lisbon. Where is she? Where's Lisbon?"

"Who's been here Jane? Lisbon's with Cho on a call out, you know that, you saw them leave a couple of hours ago. I'm sure she's fine." Rigsby looked afraid, as if the younger man sensed that something was incredibly wrong.

He let Jane go, and the consultant immediately lent over, hands on his knees, shuddering breaths filling his lungs. The taller agent started to panic; he'd not seen Jane this out of control for years. He listened carefully as the blond man struggled to speak.

"Red John. He's been in the attic. Left a note. Says he's got Lisbon," he looked up then, and Rigsby was alarmed by the look in Jane's eyes; it was one of completely desperation and fear.

"Shit! What? Hold on, I'll get the boss or Cho on the line, it's got to be a mistake," he spotted Grace returning hurriedly from the break room out of the corner of his eye, and the red head rushed to Jane's side as soon as she noticed him.

"Jane? Are you ok? Jane? Are you sick?"

Jane shook his head and struggled to stand. The fear was overwhelming, the panic deep set and he knew he had to get out, had to find her. He heard Rigsby explain what had happened, heard Grace's gasp of shock, heard Rigsby curse at the fact he couldn't get a hold of Cho or the boss. Words from months ago echoed through Jane's brain: "He's already killed one of my happy memories Lisbon, I will not let him take another away. I promise you that."

Jane felt light headed as he struggled to breathe, his head fuzzy. He needed to focus. She was still alive; he knew it. The two of them were so intrinsically linked that he'd know, surely, if she'd been taken from him. The visions from his nightmares flashed before his eyes again; Angela and Lisbon bleeding in his arms, a smiley face painted across a trailer, Lisbon spread out on a dirty motel bed, dark, lifeless eyes staring accusingly at him. Surely fate could not be so cruel as to take them both from him. Terror started to flood him again, but he knew he needed to concentrate, needed to find Lisbon…

Jane suddenly stood up taller, and shook his head to focus. Ignoring the calls of the others he practically ran to the elevator. He knew where Red John would take her, knew the one place they'd both believed they were safe.


He wasn't sure how he was able to find a car or how he managed to drive to the familiar street, but eventually he parked haphazardly outside the house and ran on trembling legs up the driveway.

Jane rushed through the door, too filled with dread and adrenaline and terror to care where the key landed. He didn't know what to expect, had a sudden, horrible gut feeling that her lack of communication meant the worst; that Red John had played his final hand and Lisbon was the stakes. He ran in, shouting her name in desperation, sweat running down his back as he searched the house. He knew, deep down, that there was only once place that Red John would take her, one place that would serve to taunt and destroy Jane with maximum effect. The one place he had never been since he'd all but moved in: her bedroom.

He raced up the stairs two at a time, still calling her name, wishing that he wouldn't see another note as he reached the top. He briefly thought that Red John would find it amusing to leave no such warning, leaving Jane constantly wondering if every time he came up here alone that he would never be fully certain that Lisbon would be ok. His brain flickered back again to his dream from the night before, of Lisbon prone and broken; her life stolen from her, and a shudder flowed through him as he reached the door of her room. Jane reached out a trembling hand for the handle and wrapped his palm around it, the cold metal doing nothing to alleviate the heat and terror that rushed through him. He leant his head against the door briefly, closing his eyes and held his breath as he twisted the handle and pushed the door open.

He opened his eyes, dreading what he might see, offering a silent prayer to a God he didn't believe in that everything would be ok, that Lisbon would be alright. He searched, looking for her, and suddenly there she was, sprawled on the bed, wrapped up in her blankets, still, silent, and unmoving.

Jane fell to his knees in the doorway.