AN: I've found all of your answers to the questions I posed at the end of last chapter very interesting. I was asked to give my own response, so here we go: Yes, I would, and yes, I would.
Do I think Jane and Lisbon would give the same answers? Some said yes to Jane and no to Lisbon, while others said the opposite. Personally, I think they both would do whatever it took to save the other's life, and that's what I ran with here. But the teacher in me sees all of these varied responses and justifications, and it makes me happy. Gold stars all around.
This is the big chapter. Here we go. Put on your crash helmets!
Burnt Offerings
Chapter Eight
Forty-eight hours was a magic, sacred number in the universe of police work. It was the holy threshold, after which the odds of finding a missing person or a kidnap victim dropped drastically.
Lisbon had been gone forty hours, and Jane was starting the feel the strain.
He hadn't slept in almost three days. For the first time in years, he was drinking coffee. Tea was relaxing, but that wasn't something he could afford right now. He needed focus, he needed energy.
Sarah Davis was on the edge of breaking. Close enough that he was forced to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from yelling. It would do him no good, he knew, but it would probably make him feel a hell of a lot better if he could have a physical outlet for his frustration.
Rigsby was basically living in the CBI Suburban, tirelessly hunting down every lead they could find. Cho was unshaven. Grace's hair was tied back into a messy knot, eyes bloodshot from the hours spent staring at her computer screen.
It was late in the afternoon, and an ache had taken up residence between his shoulder blades. He needed to get back in the interrogation room, to press on. Running his hands over his face once, he stood, pushing up from his couch.
Sarah was waiting for him; he could tell by her expression.
"I was wondering when you'd be back in, Mr. Jane," she said sweetly. His heart sank; she was wearing the mask of Red John's accomplice, and wearing it fully.
"And why is that?" he asked, taking his customary chair across from her.
Her smile became wider. "I have a message for you."
He swallowed, almost imperceptibly. "Where did this message come from?"
"That's not important, Mr. Jane." She shifted, leaning forward. "What's important right now is that you have a choice to make."
He waited.
"Red John wants you to know that what happens next is up to you. Teresa Lisbon lives or dies based on your decision."
Despite the fear and trepidation, he felt a wave of crashing relief. She was still alive. "Are you going to tell me what my choices are, or are you just going to be vague and dramatic?"
Sarah Davis smiled brightly again, then began to lay out the terms of Red John's bargain. With mounting horror, he listened, wondering why he hadn't seen this coming. It would have been far too easy to kill Lisbon outright. Now she was leverage, and very good leverage at that.
"That's one hell of a decision," he said when Sarah had stopped. His voice sounded like it was coming from a long way off, and his words came out without thought.
"Not really," she told him. "How much do you love her?" She paused. "You have six hours," she added. "No sense in dragging this out."
He stood then, nearly knocking over his chair. As soon as it was closed behind him, his leaned his shoulders against the door, fighting to steady his breathing.
Join Red John, or Lisbon dies.
It was almost brilliant in its simplicity. And the choice was an impossible one. Ally himself with the monster that had killed his family? Absurd.
But stand by while Lisbon was murdered? While it was in his power to stop it? Similarly insane.
He ran one hand through his hair, not something he normally did. Think, he urged himself. Think. There had to be a way out of this, a clue he had missed, some link that would lead him to Lisbon.
His mind was already making a decision for him, but he fought it off. He had six hours to find her, to put an end to this madness.
Her green eyes were burned into his brain. Pick me, she implored. He shook his head. Lisbon would never beg for her life, especially when the cost was so high. She would walk willingly into the arms of her executioner if it meant saving him from this choice.
But could he live with her death on his hands? Could he really? The woman had quite literally been his salvation. She had become the focal point of his universe, his own personal sun. If she was gone, there would be nothing left, save endless cold and night.
The question was: how much was he willing to sacrifice to save her life? If it was a trade, his life for hers, then there would be no hesitation from him But, as he had learned, there were things much worse than death.
He had to find her before his time limit was up.
The team was huddled around the conference table when he stalked back into the bullpen. Their body language told him they had caught a break.
"What?" he asked without preamble.
"The guy on the delivery service's security tape? The one who dropped off the boss's necklace?" Cho said. "We pulled the tape from every outdoor security camera within six blocks of the building. We caught him getting into a car going west. IT enhanced the footage, and we got a license plate."
There was more, so he waited.
"Sac PD just ticketed the car for illegal parking outside of a warehouse close to the docks."
His immediate reaction was to rush out the door, unarmed, and without waiting for anyone else. Fortunately, rationality took over. "When do we go?"
"We're working with Sac PD SWAT," Rigsby chimed in, already loosening his tie. "They're setting up as we speak. One of their guys is an expert with thermal imaging cameras, so they're going to tell us if there's anyone in the building. The second we know, we're out of here."
Jane let out a tense breath. "How long is that going to take?"
The other man shrugged. "Just depends, man. Within the hour, I would say."
He nodded once to show his understanding, then turned to Grace. "You should come up with a list of the people that have been to see Sarah Davis since the last time I was with her."
"Okay," she said, slowly. "Mind telling me why?"
His smile was grim. "One of them gave her a message from Red John to pass on to me."
The team stared at him. "What was it?" Cho wanted to know.
Jane considered his words very carefully. "He said that whether Lisbon lives or dies is based entirely on my decisions." There. That was truthful enough, but still being vague, unspecific. There was no point in sharing the horrific options he'd been given with the others.
Grace put a hand on his arm. "He's just messing with your head, Jane," she said softly. "We'll find her," she added, fingers squeezing lightly.
Cho's phone rang, and they collectively held their breaths. "Right," he said into the receiver, voice giving nothing away. "Okay."
He looked at them from across the top of his desk. "Thermal imaging confirms two hot spots in the building. We're up."
In a shorter amount of time than normally was possible, the team was suited and armed. Despite their speed, Jane was still waiting in the parking lot, pacing.
He touched the cross still nestled in his pocket.
There was a moment where he considered praying, despite his nonbelief, but decided that he was going to refuse to acknowledge any god that might take Lisbon away from him.
The others spilled into the lot at a run, and he pushed his ruminations away. He could fight with nonexistent deities later.
Right now, he had to go save the closest thing to a religion he had found in a decade. She was his god, his hope, his moral compass.
He had lost his whole life once before. He wouldn't survive it again.
XxXxXxXxX
Dehydration was an ugly thing. The all-encompassing need, the thirst…it had a way of taking over her mind.
Rationally, she knew that she had another day or so before the serious effects would start in. However, logic had very little effect on the directions her thoughts kept taking.
She suspected it was on purpose, a way of distracting her from what she should have been thinking about. She wondered for the millionth time if Red John had guessed the decision she'd made.
Obviously, it had crossed his mind when he had formulated this plan in the beginning, since he'd had an answer when she brought it up. He had just assumed that she could never hurt Jane that badly.
It was a stupid assumption, considering the other options she had. She smiled grimly, knowing that he had made a mistake.
Yes, it would hurt Jane, but it would protect him, and that was more important.
Twelve years of Catholic school and a lifetime of faith should have prevented her from doing such a thing, but she wasn't willing to save her morality at the cost of Jane's soul. She hoped that, when it was all over, that would count for something. Being willing to die for someone else had always struck her as an admirable thing. She had just never thought that she would have to go to such an extreme.
On top of her theological conundrums, she was faced with the problem of actually finding something with which she could carry out her task. All around her, the warehouse offered suggestions, but nothing within her reach.
It was almost ironically funny, and when she wasn't trembling with fear and panting for water, she could appreciate it. She wondered if she had gotten that from Jane – the ability to see humor in things that normally weren't remotely humorous.
She was torn between wanting to think of him all the time and wanting to never think of him again. To remember the innumerable smiles and gestures and the brilliance of his eyes and the way he held her when she was sleeping or to put him completely out of her mind, because if she kept thinking of him, there was a chance she would lose her courage.
And she didn't have the luxury of changing her plans because of cowardice.
Frustrated again, she yanked on the handcuffs that held her to the pipe. God, just a few more feet and she would have any number of solutions at the tips of her fingers.
Feet. That gave her an idea.
With much maneuvering and muffled swearing, she clawed off one shoe. She took renewed stock of her surroundings.
There was a set of shelves to her left, populated by empty glass jars. Taking a deep breath, she tossed the shoe as accurately as she could towards the top layer of containers. However, her normally precise aim was hampered by the cuffs locked around her wrists. The shoe hit her target, but not in the spot she had hoped.
The jar fell uselessly to the side.
She was down to her last chance.
Repeating her earlier motions, she yanked off her second shoe. Trying to take into account her present handicap, she lined up her shot once more. The trajectory was dead on this time, and shards of glass fell at her bare feet.
Sinking to her knees, she searched through the slivers, ignoring the small cuts, intent on finding a fragment large enough to suit her purposes.
When she came up with one, she let out a soft ha, then realized how absurd it was to be pleased about what she had found.
She studied the jagged piece of glass. For a few minutes, she contemplated hiding it, biding her time and waiting for Red John to return. He wouldn't be expecting it, and if she got lucky…
Reality took over, and she shook her head. That wasn't going to happen. She had a six inch reach, if she was being generous, and he would see the broken glass around her anyway.
Sucking in a deep, trembling breath, she sat flat on the cold cement, resting her back against the pipe.
"Hail Mary," she began, knowing that she didn't have any right to pray for a damn thing right now, but unable to stop herself. The rest of the well-memorized words fell out, but she wasn't thinking about them. Her mind was with Jane again. If this was the end for her, then she was going to spend it with him. And, she reasoned, assuming she wasn't eternally damned for her choices, she would still at least be able to watch out for him, always. The poignancy of that thought pricked her eyes, but she ignored the tears that fell.
"…pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen."
XxXxXxXxXxX
Even with the sirens blaring, it took far too long to race down to the docks. He kept his eyes closed on the way, blocking out the world around him.
SWAT was waiting for them, an army of men in Kevlar, armed with automatic weapons. He listened with rapt attention as the team leader outlined the plan, illustrated the routes the tactical units would take on the blueprints of the building.
"We think Agent Lisbon is here," the man said, pointing at a room on side opposite them. "The entire time we've been here, there's been no movement."
Jane felt bile start to crawl up in his throat.
"But," the leader went on, "her heat signature hasn't changed, so she's still alive." He looked around at the others. "Questions?"
No one spoke.
"Then let's roll."
With those words, SWAT and SCU stalked the building like well-oiled machines that they were. No more talking, just gestures and meaningful looks.
He hung well back, knowing he would just be in the way and running the risk of getting himself shot.
As an automatic precaution, an ambulance was present as well. He looked at it distastefully, wondering if it would be needed.
It was full dark now, and he searched for flashlight in the glove compartment of the Suburban. The police were inside the warehouse now, and he strained his ears.
Dimly, he realized that this was the moment he had been working towards for ten years. Red John was in the building in front of him, and he should be charging in with guns blazing. Instead, just like Lisbon had told him, law enforcement was going to catch him.
He made a brief, mental note to be galled later.
At that moment, shots rang out through the empty building. Too many shots. A hailstorm of bullets was flying inside, he could tell that.
Instinctively, he threw his arms up.
The silence that suddenly followed was oppressive, and he was unable to stand still longer. Running as fast as he could, he pushed through the metal doors, following the smell of gunpowder.
He wound up behind Cho, staring at what might have been the body of a man once. But there was no time now…
"Lisbon," he said, and the rest of the team turned towards him for a second.
Grace was the first to move, breaking from the line of officers and agents, skirting the carnage in the middle of the room, disappearing into the darkness beyond it. Jane was on her heels, Cho and Rigsby mere steps behind.
"Lisbon!" he yelled, wondering if he would hear her over the pounding of his heart.
The next three rooms they encountered were empty, and panic threatened to overwhelm him. There was a locked door at the end of the hallway.
"Lisbon!" he called again, voice hoarse.
With a nod to the rest of the team, Rigsby kicked the door in.
It took a few seconds to adjust to the dim light.
Back, almost against the wall, a dark shape was slumped against a water pipe. Jane rushed forward, not seeing the blood until he was almost there.
Frantically, he dropped to his knees.
"Lisbon," he said, almost a whisper, reaching to shake her shoulder. Her head lolled, and absolute terror knotted in his middle.
There was too much blood. He searched for the source with fumbling fingers. Her throat was fine, her chest unmarked… but her wrists…
The shard of glass was resting quietly on the floor next to her limp fingers.
In a second, he understood what she had done.
"No," he breathed. He wasn't going to allow it.
Hands shaking violently, he searched for a pulse, somewhere, anywhere. Avoiding her ruined wrists, he touched the base of her throat.
And there it was.
Faint. Threading. But there.
"She's alive!" he yelled. "Get the paramedics! Now!"
XxXxXxXxXxX
AN: What, you didn't think I was going to leave you without a cliffhanger, did you? Have you been following this story at all?
