A/N: Right, I have quite a bit to get through in this note.
Firstly, I'm so sorry about the delay for updating this. I hit a mild block on it, not helped by the fact I've been suffering from a very severe migraine all week. It still hasn't gone, unfortunately but I've managed to write this now in bits throughout the week.
Secondly, thank you to: WildDaisies10, mtm, Divinia Serit, Nick Tarostar, Koezh, Ebony10, yaba, phoenixmagic1, Viktorija, Famous4it, lil smiles, Frogster, Simonisthecuttestmentalist and boutondor for reviewing part seven. We're over half way now - so thank you for sticking with me thus far.
Finally, and most importantly: As with the Haiti disaster, I'm auctioning off fanfic for Chile. If you are at all interested, I have two auctions running.
http:/ community dot livejournal dot com/help_chile/2190 dot html?thread=302478#t302478 for 2000+ words of Mentalist fanfic
and
http:/community dot livejournal dot com/help_chile/2190 dot html?thread=302990#t302990 for 100+ words of Doctor Who or Sanctuary fanfic.
(Replace the 'dots'.)
Again, this isn't me begging for bids, this is just me making sure you know the opportunity is there if you want to.
Now all that is over, this is a rather brief chapter and I apologise - especially as the A/N is longer than usual.
x tromana
Part Eight - Trying
I've been trying to be something I'd never be
Van Pelt was the first into the bullpen that morning and she was hardly surprised. Not many people arrived at work at five thirty a.m., after all. But she couldn't sleep, had foisted off Rigsby with some excuse about wanting to go for an early morning run and had headed straight for the CBI headquarters instead. It wasn't as if he'd know any different, especially with his suspension. The building felt something like a safe haven for her; Red John may have planted herself and Rebecca in there, but he'd never gained access himself. She had been the one responsible for the secretary's death, but nobody had made the connection, much to her relief.
But that didn't stop the guilt over it though.
And now somebody else was about to die due to her direct intervention.
Rachel hadn't harmed anyone and it wasn't as if she could have chosen who her father was or her mother's dalliances. Rather like Van Pelt herself couldn't change the past so that her own father hadn't struck a deal with Red John that had since dictated her entire lifestyle. Instead of telling Lisbon that she thought the girl was in danger, she had organized a meeting with a serial killer for her. Van Pelt was leading her directly into a death trap; she sincerely doubted whether or not the girl would see the light of day again. Gathering up a few belongings, Van Pelt headed out of the building once more. She was feeling light headed and in rather desperate need of some fresh air. Perhaps a walk would straighten her mind out and help her to come to a logical decision over the sorry mess she had found herself caught up in? But whatever she did, all she could see was danger. Either Red John's blade, for becoming defunct or years in jail and the disappointment of colleagues she had grown to admire brought on by the fact she had been aiding a serial killer.
She was almost literally trapped between a rock and a hard place and she genuinely had no idea who to turn to or what to do.
xxx
Rachel was somewhat confused about the fact that Agent Lisbon had wanted to meet her at a deserted warehouse, of all places and though she had actively decided she shouldn't question the law enforcement officer, she couldn't help but do just that. She shuddered as she spotted a spider skittering in front of her, seemingly aimless in the direction it was choosing to run. Light leaked through gaps in the chipboard window coverings and the dust danced in it as she kicked it up while walking around an upturned table and long-since deserted filing cabinet. It was a suitably creepy scene, perfect for a clichéd crime scene. Rachel snorted. Maybe Lisbon and her team were meeting her here to show her one in the hope that it would trigger some memories and allow her to help out with the case they were working on? Genuinely, she wanted to help, but the only information she had for them was that she had found some letters that her Mom had hidden in their garage years ago. She'd remembered them being there from a childhood of being overly curious and though, in her opinion, they didn't really say anything of use, she didn't know what a cop would think. Besides, it wasn't her job to think like a criminal, but it was their's.
"Hello?" she called tentatively, listening out as her voice echoed around the room.
No response. Part of her was unsurprised. With a shrug, she continued walking further and further into the building, hoping that Lisbon would be hidden away in one of the rooms that were attached to the expansive space she had found herself in. She jolted when she heard the door creak open and again when it slammed shut. Spinning around on her heels, she tried to catch sight of whoever it was that had joined her in the warehouse. Rachel knew that she hadn't imagined the noise, it had been far too loud and far too blatantly obvious for that. Instead, she took a few steps forwards, glancing around wildly, hoping desperately to see whoever it was before they saw her. Surely Agent Lisbon wouldn't hide in the shadows, would she? Especially as it was her who had suggested this location according to the woman she'd spoken to on the telephone. A Van Pelt or something and Rachel was fairly certain she was the lowest ranked member of the team working on her mother's case.
She wouldn't have screamed had she seen Red John approach her, but she would have offered him a piece of her mind. Instead, a heavy blow to the back of her skull rendered her unconscious and by the time her eyes fluttered back open, she found herself tied tightly to a chair with her wrists and legs tied with silver duct tape. The man's face was covered, though it was unnecessary considering it was obvious what didn't intend for her to survive this meeting. Especially so given the protective clothing he was wearing and the knife glinting in his hand. It didn't take her long to realize that this was the way her mother died, especially when Red John's dulcet tones apologized for what he was about to do.
When he closed the gap between them, brandishing the knife with expert ease, she refused to give him the satisfaction of screaming. If nothing else, she was going to die with the little dignity that she could.
xxx
As time dragged on, Lisbon decided she was having yet another day where she felt like banging her head against a brick wall. She had found herself fiddling with a black ballpoint pen, alternating between twisting it between her fingers and placing it back in the desk tidy as she waited impatiently. Rachel was meant to have arrived two hours ago and she didn't want to leave just in case the young woman did eventually arrive late. She couldn't help but feel uncomfortable with that though. Given the fact that the young woman knew something about Red John, it made her a prime target and easy prey for the serial killer, regardless of the fact that she was apparently the daughter of one of his cohorts. Though, of course, there could be a simple explanation for the girl's no-show such as being held up at work, bad traffic or something. Still, she couldn't help but worry. Jane was right, Seabrook probably wasn't Red John and therefore the murderer was still out there somewhere.
Lisbon smiled briefly when the plastic telephone on her desk buzzed shrilly at her; this was probably the explanation for why Rachel was so late for their meeting. As she placed the receiver to her ear, she made sure she at least sounded relatively calm despite the menagerie of emotions eating her up from the inside. Quickly, she thanked the caller, whose name she didn't quite catch and literally started banging her head against her desk again. She knew it, though the informant had insisted that there was still time. Grabbing her jacket, she rushed through to the bullpen to organize her team. Well, just Cho as both Jane and Van Pelt were absent without leave. This was the one time when she didn't want to be so terribly understaffed but she didn't have much choice.
When they were loading the van, she breathed a sigh of relief as Van Pelt jogged around the corner, slightly breathless and brushing away a thin layer of sweat. Lisbon breathed out a sigh of relief and just ordered that she climbed in the van instead. She could update the younger woman while they were traveling and besides, she didn't really have time to lay into her about her late appearance. Still, it was better late than never and she was beginning to feel a little less nervous about the upcoming raid on the warehouse location they'd been supplied with. The only problem was, she didn't have a clue where Jane was and that could only mean trouble. If he'd done something stupid like got himself injured, or worse, Lisbon knew that she'd never forgive herself.
xxx
Jane tapped his fingers agitatedly against the steering wheel as he waited at a red light. He didn't have time for this and as he wanted to catch Red John before Lisbon and the team arrived, he didn't really have time for waiting around at lights. He breathed a sigh of relief when, after what felt like an age, they changed and he was on his way again. Part of him felt a little guilty for tapping Lisbon's phone, but the rest of him really didn't care. This was the closest he had gotten to revenge and though he knew everybody still judged him for that, he didn't care.
Apart from, maybe…
…Well, she did care about him a lot too and it was only naturally that he would feel some kind of companionship for her…
And maybe, just maybe, if there was such a thing as life after Red John for him…
He shook his head as he pulled up into the virtually abandoned parking lot. He recognized Rachel's Mini the moment he spotted it and pulled up beside him. Seemed the anonymous tip was right and the young woman was already there. Now, he could only hope that he'd beaten Red John there. Quickly, he killed the engine and slammed the door to his car shut a little too roughly, causing him to apologize to the machine automatically. When he walked through the wide doors, his senses were on high alert. For what felt like an age, he wandered around the dusty room, trying to check for signs of other living people. As he inspected a pile of disturbed dust, he noticed the doors slamming behind him and attempted to make chase, down a hallway and into an office.
Instead, all he found was Rachel's body with a smiley face glaring down on it.
TBC…
