A/N: I'm about to go off to meet lil smiles. We're going to see a show, no idea what yet. Just thought I'd update this little thing first.

Thanks to Ebony10 for reviewing part eight.

x tromana


Part Nine

Jane fingered his cell phone apprehensively. Was it too soon to be calling the CBI, to ask about the job? He hadn't even buried Angela yet, never mind anything else. But still, if he didn't make some kind of effort to do something, it would soon subsume him. There were times, which were growing increasingly more frequent, when he wondered what if? What would have happened if he'd insisted that Angela did as their attacker had requested? She would have been fine, surely? But what about him? Would he have gotten out of the situation unscathed or would that have been too much to ask?

Besides, what the hell did the man want anyway?

Pushing the phone away, he headed into the kitchen. He should probably have done some of the dishes by now; they had been stacking up all week. However, he just couldn't be bothered. He couldn't see the point anymore. Who cared whether or not he did the housework now or in a week's time? This was his home; nobody else had the right to judge him about how he kept it. It didn't affect anyone else. It used to, but obviously that had all changed now. Angela couldn't complain either way if he didn't put his shoes away or forgot to do the vacuuming.

He sighed and sipped at a cold cup of tea. Jane couldn't even be bothered to get up and get a fresh one, however disgusting it was. The house was quiet; almost too quiet. Nobody had stopped by recently and the phone had stopped ringing. There weren't any distractions at the moment and that was half the problem. It was the main reason he wanted to get back to work, to have something else to focus on instead of the grief (and guilt) which kept attacking him in waves. People always said that the memory of someone, what they were like, was enough to spur you on and ensure you honoured their memory. However, Jane wasn't quite so sure. It had even been a chore to peel himself out of bed this morning.

Shaking his head, he picked up the phone once more and dialed the number he'd been given. If he didn't do it now, he never would. Virgil Minelli had informed him that, whenever he was ready to start working, to just give him a call. Instead, Jane had decided to phone Teresa Lisbon. He knew that when he started working, he'd be with her, so there was little point in going through the grapevine. It was easier just to go straight to her. Besides, she had supplied him with her personal contact numbers so that he could inform her of anything he ended up remembering about Angela's murder. Not that he had remembered any more important details. Then again, it was entirely possible he was repressing the memories simply because he didn't want to face them.

"Hello, this is Teresa Lisbon. I can't get to the phone right now, but please-"

He cut it off before it even reached the end of the answerphone message. That was just typical. Jane knew he was being uncharacteristically shy, but Lisbon was a very forthcoming woman. It was easy to be intimidated by her, however kind of sympathetic she appeared at face value. He supposed she had to be, in order to garner the respect she required from co-workers and the people she dealt with. Police work was always a very masculine environment, so she had to fight against the stereotypes. Still, all he had to do was work out a way to get into that steely exterior and then he'd be fine. He was just feeling vulnerable because of everything that had happened and he had taken a knock to his confidence.

It was only natural, considering the more he thought about it, the more he blamed himself.

Standing, he grabbed his keys. He needed to get out of this place, before it ate him up alive. As he left, he didn't have a particular destination in mind, just that he needed to get some fresh air and away from the constant reminders of what he'd lost.

xxx

After a couple of seconds, Lisbon placed down her drink and cocked her head quizzically. She had finally managed to meet up with Maria for that long-awaited night out and was finally getting some peace. But now, something didn't quite feel right, again. It was colder, somehow. Rather like it had been when she'd been hallucinating. Either that or being stalked by a ghost named Angela Ruskin. For some reason, Lisbon didn't particularly like the sound of either. The first meant she needed to put some serious consideration into her mental state and the latter would require completely readdressing her beliefs system. She had been brought up to firmly believe that ghosts weren't real. If ghosts did exist, her mother, who was taken tragically, too soon, would still have been beside her, wouldn't she? Quickly, she glanced over at her friend. Maria had her head buried in her beer and barely noticed her friend's distraction.

"Boo."

"Going for the traditional haunting now, I see?" Lisbon muttered under her breath.

"What?" Maria asked, looking thoroughly confused.

"Get rid of her!"

Lisbon froze; she hadn't expected Maria to overhear. Truth be told, she had barely realized that she had spoken out loud at all. Suddenly, she was very relieved that the woman sitting opposite her was already tipsy and quickly heading towards being 'drunk'. Maria was such a lightweight, always had been but had never learned when exactly to stop, but still insisted every meal out had to be topped off with a drink or two. That being said, it made her the ideal drinking buddy as Lisbon always knew that however much she drank, she would never be in as much of a state as Maria McDonald. And besides, it distracted her from work. Maria had utterly no idea what it was like to be a cop and never had any desire to learn. Most importantly, unlike the majority of Lisbon's work colleagues, she didn't forget she was a woman. They got to talk about trivialities, things that would go straight over Cho and Rigsby's heads and Van Pelt would simply have been too nervous to bring up. Utter nonsense, too. Maria was always an excellent source for that.

Though this situation would probably be too bizarre even for her.

"Hurry up," Angela hissed in Lisbon's ear. "Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, hurry up!"

"Maria… there's a guy sitting behind you - don't look - and I think he might want to make a move."

"What?" Maria shrieked and Lisbon smirked to herself as her friend started rummaging urgently through her purse. "What does he look like?"

"Hurry!"

"Hot," Lisbon stated before realizing that she had to expand on that. "Tall, dark hair, dark eyes. Bit of stubble."

Maria nodded furiously, but didn't even bother to glance at Lisbon as she searched desperately for one specific item. She looked triumphant when she eventually retrieved a small mirror. Quickly, she glanced in it, scrutinizing her appearance and cursed when she realized her make-up had become smudged.

"Shit," she swore before standing. "Need to go fix my mascara. Will you be okay on your own for a short while?"

"Sure, I'm a big girl now. I think I can manage."

"You're such a joker, Tess."

And with that, Maria headed straight for the ladies. Angela sat down in the chair that she had quickly vacated, not that Lisbon noticed. Instead, she stared down at the cocktail she had been sipping at for the past half an hour or so and stirred it morosely. This was the last thing she needed.

"When I said 'hurry up', I meant a little faster than that."

"What do you think I am? A miracle worker?" Lisbon said, repeating the exact phrase she had used with Angela earlier.

"No, but you are a cop."

"That doesn't mean I can do magic," Lisbon stated derisively. "And besides, I'm off duty. No badge, no gun. See?"

"I see. But surely even off-duty, you're meant to report a crime you know has been committed?" Angela queried politely.

"What crime?"

"Same one as usual."

"It's been transferred to another unit," Lisbon said through gritted teeth. "I can't do anything more, I'm sorry."

"But…"

"Besides, do you have any new evidence?"

"Maybe?"

Lisbon tutted derisively. Angela probably didn't have anything new to say and was just desperate for her to look up the man she had followed home. She had had a quick look on the system to see if anything popped but of course, nothing in particular had. After that, she had just pushed the concept to one side.

"And anyway, have you any idea how ridiculous I'd look down at the office?" she quickly answered back and Angela flinched slightly. "I mean it feels ridiculous enough as it is and I'm drunk."

"No you're not; it's only your second."

"Correction," Lisbon stated. "I was enjoying a quiet drink with a good friend, until you rudely interrupted."

"Oh really?" Angela questioned. "You didn't look like you were having fun."

"This is my downtime. I should be free to spend it how I please. Figuratively speaking."

Immediately after, she glanced back down at her drink. Then, she pushed it away. Suddenly it seemed so much less tempting. Maybe it was the sobering effect of talking to a ghost. Or realizing that she would have much preferred their previous encounters to have all been in her mind because therefore, she could have merely blamed it on being overworked and underpaid. Instead, it was looking more and more likely that this was actually real and not some bizarre set-up courtesy of an overactive imagination. Or worse, a television show picking on her for goodness knew what reason.

"So you've changed your mind about drinking then?"

"No, I'm waiting for my friend. It's polite, you know. Or not, considering you've hijacked our evening."

"I'm sorry, but it's not every day you die," Angela replied, sniffing slightly.

"Most dead people I deal with don't tend to answer back," Lisbon muttered in response. "And besides, you died a week ago. Not today."

"That's just semantics."

"Where are you, anyway?"

"Right opposite you."

"Really?"

"No," she answered sarcastically. "Of course I am. Do you think I'd lie to you?"

"How should I know? I don't even know you."

"You've spent a week poking your nose into my private life, how can you not know?"

Lisbon went to retort, but instead, jumped when she felt her friend's hand gently brush against her shoulder. Maria apologized profusely for scaring her, before explaining she was about to head off with Oli, the guy who had been eyeing her up before her disappearance. With a quick shrug, Lisbon smiled before confirming that she didn't mind being deserted and that she had to be at work early in the morning. It was a blatant lie, but Maria was drunk enough to either not notice or care. Warily, Lisbon scanned the bar, realizing that she had probably looked completely insane for the past ten minutes. She may have been able to hear Angela, clear as day, but she couldn't see her. And neither could the bar's other patrons. Hastily, she grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

She cursed as she heard a voice that was growing all too familiar in her left ear. Lisbon had hoped that by simply leaving, Angela would take the hint and leave her alone. That she would decide to go and bother somebody else for a change. Maybe that person, the supposed killer, she had been so adamant she should visit. At least, if Angela was telling the truth, he would appreciate her company significantly more than she did.

xxx

When Lisbon disappeared off home, stubbornly ignoring her, Angela grew annoyed yet again. What she really needed was something more solid, something to pinpoint a reason as to why Lisbon (or whoever) should investigate the man she had seen conversing with her brother further. Until she had something like that, they were going to continually keep hitting the same walls. Lisbon wouldn't do anything because she didn't have any evidence and she wouldn't use Angela's tip-off because she was either dead or, apparently, stuck in Lisbon's mind.

Listlessly, Angela padded down the same well-traveled road to her brother's home. Even before she moved to Sacramento, this part of the city had been familiar to her. Danny had made his home here long before Jane had suggested they move in. Her brother had always liked the fact that the city had been far enough away from Jane to stop him from poaching his clientele. The fact that he had chosen to move close by had set him on edge, even if it had meant that his sister would be close by Angela knew that that was blindingly obvious. After all, Danny always saw Jane as a threat, ever since they were both small. It was only natural that he would think the worst about him.

She smiled slightly at the thought of seeing Danny again. Angela hoped that she'd be able to find him easily, or at least gain access to his apartment block. For some reason, she was still having trouble navigating doors and the like; unless somebody left them open for long enough for her to slip through first. Anyway, seeing Danny gave her something to focus on and distracted her from the irritation she felt for Lisbon and the police in general. It was no wonder they never got anything done, if they were constantly finding excuses to have their hands tied together.

When she reached the building, Danny was standing in almost exactly the same spot as the previous occasion, with the same harried expression on his face. It was little wonder; the same man was facing him and looking as intimidating as he had done the previous time. Automatically, Angela rushed forwards, despite the fact she was getting used to people essentially ignoring her all the while.

"Danny!" she called, to no avail. "Danny, you need to get-"

"Don't you get it?" Danny said, completely ignoring her. "If we don't do something soon, if we don't get away from here, then Red John…"

Angela froze. Red John. She knew that name all too well. For a start, Jane had been doing a lot of research into the serial killer in order to prepare for offering his services to the CBI. As an additional bonus, it meant that it had given him a chance to perfect his act and reference before appearing on that damn television show. It was also one of the cases that had kept Teresa Lisbon from investigating the man standing before her brother.

But why the hell was Danny referencing Red John anyway? What kind of connection did he have with the murderer? She knew that before Jane had requested the move to the Sacramento department of the CBI, Danny had almost gotten his nose into the same case. He'd done some work with a few of the other units, he'd told the fact proudly on more than one occasion. However, Red John was a big deal, the one where the money was. Danny had been looking forward to the challenge, only for it to be whisked away from him. What worried Angela was the fact he was talking about Red John as if he had some sort of deal with him. A deal that had involved her for one reason or another.

"Dude, Red John ain't doing nothing," the man replied and spat on the ground. "Killing his girlfriend? That'll cripple Mr. Jane for life."

"That was my sister!"

"I know and I said I was sorry. You can't change the past, man."

"And Red John expects things to be done precisely to order! If he doesn't then…"

"You're worrying about nothing."

He shook his head frenetically and Angela remained rooted to the spot, horrified by what she was hearing.

"If Jane isn't dead within two weeks, I'm dead," Danny stated, sounding withdrawn. "We're both dead. Don't you get it?"