Author's Note: Hey everyone! Sorry for the gap between last chapter and this one. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you all seemed to enjoy the other chapters. We're getting to the last few chapters now! I'm thinking maybe two or three more and that will be it. Thank you all for your reviews, favourites and follows!
Disclaimer: The Mentalist isn't mine.
Lisbon held her breath as she watched Jane run at the climbing wall. It wasn't very tall, raised just a few inches over his head. He grabbed the handles and tried to get footing on the lower ones, but his foot slipped out from under him, catching him off-guard and ended with him on the ground.
"That wasn't very observant of him, now was it, Teresa?" Red John picked up his knife. "You think he would have noticed the oil that was on the lower handles. Oh, well." He sliced a shallow gash across Lisbon's forearm with his knife and she gritted her teeth against the yelp that formed in her throat.
It stung, but it wouldn't kill her and she hoped that it stopped bleeding quickly.
"Now, open up." Red John held a shot glass up to her mouth.
Lisbon didn't open her mouth.
"Teresa, dear. You have two options. You can open your mouth willingly and take the shot, or I cut your mouth open and make you take the shot. Your choice."
Reluctantly, Lisbon opened her mouth and Red John poured the liquid in. Red John held his hand over her mouth, waiting for her to swallow and after a moment, she did.
"That's a good girl." Red John ran his thumb gently over Lisbon's cheek. "Isn't this fun?"
-Mentalist-
Jane was panting heavily and had a sore arm by the time he got to the fourth obstacle. He looked down at the pit in front of him. It wasn't huge, just deep enough to be a problem getting out of and just wide enough that he couldn't jump across it. Damn. There was a very skinny ledge of dirt to his right and a rope suspended from the top of the tunnel. Which was the safer bet? The rope might not be secured properly and the ledge could be weak. Maybe they were both unsafe and that was the whole point. So he'd fail either way. He decided that the ledge was probably his safer bet and stumbled over to it. He pressed his back against the wall of the tunnel and inched out onto the ledge. Jane tried to keep his breathing calm and stop his body from shaking so much as he made his way over the ledge. Almost there. He was so-no! The ledge crumbled under his feet and he fell the few feet into the bottom of the pit. Jane scrambled up into a sitting position, lifting his head to look at the pit walls that seemed to tower above him.
"Damn it!" Jane growled. He stood and examined the walls. He knew that every failed attempt at getting out of here was just one more injury on Lisbon. He had to succeed in getting out of here the first time. There was no way for him to pull himself out of there. He didn't have the strength and the walls were too high for that anyway. The dirt wasn't sturdy enough to make a ladder out of it to climb out. The rope was out of reach…Jane looked around the rectangular pit, starting to feel a bit panicked.
"Oh, Patrick. We're waiting. What are you going to do?" Red John said over the speakers in a sing-song voice.
Jane's eyes landed on the corner where the ledge had caved on him. That was it. He staggered over to the corner, reaching up and taking hold of the top edge of the pit and placed one foot on each wall that connected to make the corner. He pressed hard against the walls with his feet to hold himself in place, then braced his arms when he moved his feet a bit higher. The cycle repeated until he was able to haul himself out of the pit, rolling over on his back and allowing himself a few minutes to relax, his sore shoulder now throbbing with pain. Panting, Jane forced himself to get up and continue through this little piece of Hell until he was free. It was the only option he had.
His next obstacle was to wade through a big, mud-filled tub, which turned out to be a more daunting task than it had originally seemed. Getting out on the other side, Jane found that it had just sucked his energy right out of him and the mud that still clung to him weighted him down even more. At this point, he was questioning if he was even going to make it to the end.
Next, Jane was faced with the task of making is way through a jumble of metal rods that blocked his path. At first it had just seemed like a wall of them, but there were gaps between them that Jane had to slink his way through. Under the first one, squeezing between two more and after that he blindly made his way through empty spaces. At some point the began to feel claustrophobic and panic was really starting to set in. Not for the first time, his eyes stung with tears and he could barely see where he was going. Blindly, he reached out to find a space for him to crawl through and pushed forward and he fell, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Jane blinked a few times to clear his vision as he looked up. He saw a wall of dirt with a latched doorway. This was…this was it! He'd made it to the end of the tunnel! His heart leapt with happiness that was doused when Red John's voice came over the speakers again.
"Congratulations, Patrick. I'm very impressed. To be perfectly honest, I didn't think you'd make it this far. You exceeded my expectations. But the game isn't over yet. Buried to the right of the door are four oxygen tanks with keys attached to them." As Red John spoke, a hissing noise began like there was air leaking from a ball…or gas being pumped into the tunnel. "One oxygen tank will actually have oxygen in it and the attached key will open the door. The other three have poisonous gases in them that will kill you if you pick one of them. If you succeed, two of my friends will escort you here where the final decision will be made. I think you'll find that the place I chose for our final meeting will be to your taste. I so very hope you like it. You have five minutes. Hurry, Patrick. Teresa is getting antsy and running out of time."
Jane began ripping through the dirt to the right of the door, looking for the tanks. They proved difficult to pull out of the dirt, but he managed to get it done. He looked down at all four, trying to figure out which was the oxygen tank and which ones were poison tanks. Each tank had something written on it: Rosalyn Harker, Tyger Tyger, Girl Lost and Angela. Jane gaped at the four tanks for a moment, finding it harder to breath and his heart beating so fast he thought it might explode. Which was the right tank? Red John was big on things having meaning and significance. Making sure things were all connected. Probably the tank with the name that held the most significance, then…but which did Red John consider to have the most significance?
Rosalyn Harker: The woman Jane had met that Red John enjoyed visiting.
Tyger Tyger: The name of the first poem Red John had ever quoted to him. The poem that Todd Johnson had also quoted to him before his death.
Girl Lost: That one confused Jane slightly. Was it supposed to be "Little Girl Lost", the title of the poem that Red John left for Jane at Lisbon's apartment? Or was it really just "Girl Lost", in which case, Jane didn't see how it was very significant.
Angela: The name of his dead wife. The whole reason he had been working to catch Red John in the first place. For her death and the death of Charlotte.
Jane shook his head. He couldn't dwell on that right now. The clock was ticking and he had to start eliminating some of these. "Okay." He mumbled to himself. "Who has the least significance…?" He ran his gaze over the tanks. Rosalyn. He could eliminate her. She held the least weight in this situation. He shoved the tank away from the group. Tyger Tyger, Angela and Girl Lost remained.
"Two minutes left, Patrick." Red John informed him.
Which was the next one for him to eliminate? Was Angela significant to his current dilemma? Of course, Angela was important to him and her and Charlotte's deaths were part of what started his whole battle with Red John, but was she really a factor in this problem? To this exact situation? Tyger Tyger was, in a way, Red John's motto. Jane had come to a point where he automatically associated the poem with Red John. But Red John had said this was about him and Lisbon. Girl Lost was still a little unclear as to what it meant. Whether Red John had left it at that for a reason to confuse him, or if it meant something else entirely.
Jane reached out and shoved Tyger Tyger away. That tank wouldn't make any sense if this was about himself and Lisbon. That left Angela and Girl Lost. Jane looked between the two. Angela was a part of his past and his heart. She was significant to him and, therefore, to the whole situation. Girl Lost was still a bit of a question mark, but maybe that's why he should pick it. It was the most likely significant to the entire situation and it was a trick option with it's lack of clarity. He'd never get straight-forward multiple choice options. He grabbed the mask for Girl Lost and grabbed the key. He knew he'd chosen the right one when he inhaled the pure oxygen instead of the polluted air of the tunnel. Jane then grabbed the key and then scrambled to unlock the door with a shaking hand. He stumbled outside as the door opened just in time. He lay face down in the dirt panting with tears of relief streaming from his eyes. He'd made it. He barely registered the sound of the ocean waves and the feel of cool air on his face.
Strong hands flipped Jane over to his back, but he didn't have the strength to fight it. Something was injected into his arm and after a moment, his lungs began to feel better. Probably some kind of antidote to the chemical he'd inhaled in the tunnel. Jane was sat up, two big men flanking his sides and they put one of his arms over both their shoulders. They lifted him and began to walk him away from the tunnel.
In the evening light Jane could see the ocean. There were some white steps with a little sitting area platform and a canopy hanging over it for shade. This all seemed familiar. Why? Where was he? He was carried up some steps, away from the ocean and Jane realised where he was. He was at his house. The one he had lived in with Charlotte and Angela. When he'd first bought the house, it had seemed so cheerful, homey and inviting. Now, it loomed before him like a bad omen and a promise of something horrible yet to come. His heart squeezed as he was pulled through the sliding back door and up the stairs, past all of Red John's friends who had clustered together on the main floor around TV's and stared at him as he passed. Once in the second floor hallway he was placed on his feet, legs feeling weak and shaky. He was ushered forward and forced to do a second walk of shame all the way to the closed door at the end of the hall. His entire body shaking, Jane opened the door.
Author's Note: *Gasp!* What's Jane going to find on the other side of the door? Find out next chapter! Also, you will all see who I decided to make Red John in this little fic. And before you all start to think it's one of the people on the list that the show has provided, it's not. I just decided it would be more fun to play around with an idea. The show can decide who Red John is. I'm going to come up with crack-pot theories that may or may not make sense. Thanks for reading and see you at the next chapter! :3
