A/N: Thanks alot to the guest reviewers from last chapter. You've been amazing. penultimate chapter is here...see you in a couple of days with the epilogue!
They reached Fran's house in a matter of minutes, but it still felt too long to them. Teresa, sat in the back of the car, had never said so many Hail Mary in her whole life, and Jane, the same arrogant jackass he had always been, never let it go of her hand. They both hoped that, for once, he had gotten it wrong.
He hoped that the God that Teresa worshipped did exist, and that He was going to protect their little, innocent baby, who was so young that he hadn't seen how big the world actually was. He hoped that there was an afterlife and that the spirits were indeed among them. Because, if they were, then he could hope that Angela and Charlotte would look after Tommy.
But, he felt like he was on the verge of a breakdown, and for every argument, he found something else to convince himself that everything was doomed. For, if there was a God, why had he allowed his wife and child to pay for a mistake he had made? And, as far as for the spirits, even if they were there, how could he know that they didn't hate him because he had eventually moved on?
He shook his head. Thinking like that wasn't going to do himself or Teresa any good. Whatever was going to happen, whatever was already happening, he had to clear his head. He needed to focus if he wanted to have even half a chance of beating Wagner at his own game.
"Dispatch says that Mr. Ramirez called 911 while we were on the crime scene. The lights at her place went out, and she thought that someone had done it, said she had a bad feeling about it. In the middle of the call, though, the line went dead," Rigsby said, listening to the phone, his eyes glued on the road ahead, just like Cho, who was driving furiously through the rush hour traffic. "Black and white are already on the scene"
"The Ginger and Richardson murder in my old motel wasn't just a message. It was a trap. He needed to get both of us out of the way to get to Tommy."
Jane squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He was mad at himself and not for the first time, guilt got the better of him. Love had blinded him. But then again, he knew that, deep down in his heart, he couldn't really feel guilty. Not when everything that had happened had made sure that he was right there in that moment. Still, part of him was somehow ashamed, that to have this family he had to lose the one he had when he had been another man. It was something he was going to have to live with for the rest of his life. The darkness wasn't going to disappear; it was doomed to knock on his door every now and then. But, Teresa and Tommy were going to be there to bring him back and to turn the lights back on. He had to believe it, if he wanted to stay sane enough to do whatever he was supposed to do now.
"Patrick…" Teresa whispered his name, and he lifted his eyes to meet hers. She was desperate and her green eyes were teary. There was a resolve he had already seen in the past, but with a different degree. Teresa was a feral lioness when she had fought for her family in the past, for her team. But this time, it was much more serious. Nobody could touch her blood and get away with it. She was like an avenging goddess, a phoenix of pure fire. Fire made of flesh.
He nodded, and she went on. He couldn't stop looking at her; her eyes almost calling him, like he was prisoner of a spell. And in a certain way, he was. "Patrick, whatever happens… promise that you'll not go down that road again." She paused, and stared at him with intensity, making sure he understood her point. "I could survive months apart, but not another trial. I'd die. Promise me that I'll not have to tell our son that his father is a murderer. Promise that, whatever happens, you won't leave me alone to deal with the aftermath."
She gripped his hands in her owns, never breaking eye contact. Jane just nodded, and then buried his head in the crock of her neck, silently sobbing like he hadn't done in a long time. He could count on his fingers just how many times he had cried in the last ten years. And it had always been because of his family: because of Charlotte and Angela, because of Thomas and Teresa.
"Boss, Johnson's already here." They barely listened to Cho's words; the car hadn't stopped yet and they were already running towards the front door. The perimeter was surrounded by yellow tape and uniforms, with Johnson right there on the front line.
"Teresa, don't," the blonde said as she grabbed Teresa by the shoulders, preventing her from moving further on. Johnson, Jane noticed for the first time, was taller than Teresa, maybe even bigger than life itself. She embraced the younger cop and completely engulfed her with her body and her presence. In Teresa's eyes there was resolve and desperation, in Johnson, he could only see certainty and determination, a rare strength. Her eyes were screaming of promises, we'll bring him back, we'll get that monster, he'll pay, and in that moment, Jane was certain that the voices were indeed true.
There was more to Brenda Leigh Johnson than met the eye.
"Agent Cho, join the SWAT team on the other side of the road and let me know of any progress." She paused for a second, taking a deep breath as she saw Cho doing as she ordered him to. "SWAT's not clear to shoot yet. Wagner had found a blind spot inside the home with no visual. Tactical switched to infrared, but we can't take any risks."
"So, it's up to him, right? My son and friend's life are in the hands of a psychopath!" she yelled, but Jane could hear the resignation in her tone. She was a mother, the greatest protector of them all, and yet there was nothing she could do. Like too many other times in her life, she was a mere witness. The scene belonged to others.
"He'll never hurt Tommy, he just…. He can't. It's not who he is," Jane tried to comfort her, but he wasn't so sure. Not about the fact that it could work, he was aware that there was no chance at all. He just wondered if he was talking to her or himself.
"Jane," she switched to his surname, spat it out like it was venom from her lips. He froze. It had been too long since he had been just Jane to her. It felt wrong, like he was getting a taste of the incoming end. "You didn't have to talk with him. I did! I know what he said. That man… he may have killed at a certain point because he wanted to keep saving the lives of innocent children just like our son, but trust me. He hates you enough to forget all about the person he used to be."
Hearing her words, what she said weeks before suddenly returned to his mind. It was what Wagner had told her when he had been taken in a few years before. It explained how his mind, words and actions were his own ruin, how people hated him for those, and wished to hurt him because of his actions. Cold shivers ran down his spine, he turned pale, and he could feel his own heart slowing down. He didn't know if it was a panic attack, but the lack of breathing surely felt like that. Because he knew that whatever was going on, it was his fault. Wagner hated him because he had shown the world the man behind the mask, and shown them the truth about the good doctor. Now, years later, he was finally consumed by his revenge. And just like he had told Teresa a long time before, there were worse thing to do to a man than killing him.
If you want to hurt a man, you don't kill him. You hurt his family, someone had once told him. He had experienced it first hand, more than once, with Red John, both with Angela and Charlotte and years later with the team and Teresa. And now, here he was again. With his family, his own blood, risking his own life because of his actions, because he hadn't been able to keep his mouth shut.
Maybe Teresa had always been right, and this was his karma because he had looked for vengeance for too long. Maybe this was his punishment because he was a bad man who had dared to be happy after having killed his family. Maybe he didn't deserve Teresa and Tommy. Maybe he didn't deserve any happiness at all, maybe, maybe…
"Mr. Jane, whatever you are thinking, stop it, right now." He shivered yet again, but for a whole different reason. Johnson's stern voice had brought him back from his reverie, and her resolve and determination, they did something to him. For the first time, he experienced what he assumed people believed to be an out of body experience. He saw himself with new eyes, like from the outside looking in. His gaze went to Teresa to his left; had he always been so closed off, dark and crazy whenever Red John was concerned? If he had been, he could finally understand why she had always felt the need to be there for him, to keep him safe from the world and himself.
It didn't explain why she had kept up with him, though. 'He closes cases' wasn't a good excuse, not for so long. If she loved him, since she loved him despite everything he had been through, well, that was another reason why she should have kept her distance. And it was just another reason to love her as much as he could since she hadn't.
He interlaced their fingers, and she held onto him for dear life, like her world depended on him and that single gesture. She had been his anchor, his light, for a long time, and suddenly, their roles had been reversed. He had always needed her to be Patrick Jane and not a monster. Now, she needed him to remember that she was Teresa, Tommy's mum, and she had to think about her beautiful baby son. She had begged him not to do anything foolish because she couldn't handle telling her baby that his father was a murderer, but the opposite was also true.
They both needed to keep their heads clear.
"Teresa, Mr. Jane, this isn't the first time I have dealt with a situation like this. If you want, I could try to talk with him instead of waiting for the FBI to arrive." In another situation, Jane would have smiled. He could see that Johnson had barely resisted spitting out the words and rolling her eyes at the mention of the federal agency. Then, what he had heard was true. She really had been in an unhappy relationship - marriage, from the way she kept skimming over the bare skin of her left ring finger without thinking - with a federal agent. Apparently, Van Pelt hadn't been the only one with troubles with the feds in the romance department….
Then, realization hit him. He was right: Wagner had done it all because of him: Wagner wanted him.
"No. Let me talk with him. I'll try to buy time, to get some room for SWAT to operate. But let me in there. It's me he wants." He told them, begging with his words and his eyes. Teresa's heart clenched painfully at the sight. This, she thought, was how he must have looked like when Sophie Miller found him.
"I'm not sure it's a good idea. Kidnappers rarely keep their promises once they get what they want. We can't be sure that he won't kill the child and Mrs. Ramirez once you're face to face with him." Not for the first time, Jane was glad for Johnson's presence. They needed someone a little less involved, a little less emotional, and someone with a clear head for all of this. And this woman, CIA negotiator and interrogator, turned closer for the police, was exactly what they needed. Still, he thought he was right and that he could pull that off without harming anyone. The only exception was Wagner, of course. "Landline's gone, but if you happen to know if Mrs. Ramirez had a mobile number I could always try to…"
"No. No, absolutely not," Jane stopped her, before she could even end the sentence. "Ma'am, with all due respect, but Wagner had orchestrated all of this to get me here, right from the first murder. If we don't give him what he wants, aka me, or we pretend like we don't know who he is after, he could try to hurt one or both hostages just to force my hand."
"Or, we could give him exactly what he wants, and we could end up with three more cadavers. Correct me if I'm wrong, but according to Agent Lisbon, Wagner once said something about 'other ways of hurting and destroying a man'. Dr. Wagner had studied you, Mr. Jane, and forgive me if I'm being harsh," she told him, clearly not genuinely sorry for the words she was about to deliver. "But after your wife and daughter died, you were devastated. People told me you were as good as dead. Now, imagine if you were to see it, happening right before your eyes, your son being killed by someone you angered because of something you've done or said. What better revenge than this, for the good doctor?"
"Ma'am, trust me. I know that man. He'd never hurt my child. He is an innocent, like the ones Dr. Linus Wagner used to cure, save and protect."
"Mr. Jane, in case you haven't noticed, Wagner killed innocent people, just like the ones he used to cure, save and protect, just to get to you, using your words. So, forgive if I'm not willing to trust your instinct right now."
"Ma'am, let me at least try. Maybe I can't stop him on my own, I know it. He'll never fall for my tricks twice. But I can try to buy time, enough to get SWAT and snipers in position. Please," he begged yet again. Johnson closed her eyes and took a series of deep breaths and pinched the bridge of her nose. Finally, she opened her eyes again, after the longest instant of their lives.
"You have quite the reputation, Mr. Jane. I hope you can live up to it," she told him, almost resigned. Jane simply nodded, and smiled sadly, just to say, without words, all he needed to say: thank you. "According to infrared, they are in a room on the back of the house. Go down the corridor and you can't miss it. It's some kind of open space with a lot of windows, but he has positioned himself in a blind corner. See what you can do."
He nodded again, but he didn't smile, nor did he answer her.
It was Jane's turn to take a deep breath, and he did so as he slowly approached the door. On his back, with each steps he took, he could feel the burning, lethal gazes of the snipers, pointing their caliber 50 weapons in his general direction. The only thought that comforted him was, knowing that, among those hawk eyes, there was Cho too, looking over him like some kind of fully-armed guardian angel.
He turned the doorknob, trying not to cry, not to think about another door and another room with another child of his, so many years before. He had to remember to stay there, in the moment. But it was hard, when all he could do was thinking about the similarities between what had happened back then and what was happening in that moment. All he could do now was pray to a God that he didn't believe in that the outcome would be different.
"I'm coming with you." He felt small hands touching him, and he heard a sad and low voice at his back. He didn't turn to look at Teresa's face, nor did he speak or try to talk her out of this. She had as many rights as him to be there, to walk through that door. All he could do now was hope that Wagner was still the man they had met a long time before. Because if he wasn't, Jane wasn't sure he would be able to survive another broken heart. Nor did he believe that he would be able to mend Teresa's desperate soul if they were to find the mutilated body of their infant son.
They entered, and did as Johnson had told them, followed the path that they already knew at heart despite having heard of it only once, and never having done it before. As predicted, he was sitting on a chair, surrounded by candles, like some horror gothic, evil prince of the darkness. Linus Wagner was shaking his head in their general direction, absent-mindedly playing with a gun, pointed in direction of a crib where Tommy laid still. It was with a huge relief that they saw the small, steady movements of his chest; a clear indication that their boy was alive, for now, at least.
The Glock 9-millimeter; the safety's in the trigger. How stupid is that? I mean, it's kind of like not having a safety at all.
Jane gulped down a mouthful of saliva as he stared at the grinning man right before his eyes. Teresa's hands never let go of his shoulders and it was a relief to feel her presence. The years hadn't been nice with the good doctor. He knew that Wagner – a vain and self-centered man - was well aware of this and he knew a good part of the fault was the time spent in jail.
It was the same jail where Patrick Jane had sent him so many years before.
"Hello old friend. It's good to see you again. It's been a long time, isn't it?" he said, with the familiarity of a real old friend. And yet, Jane knew that it was going to hurt him, to make him remember all his failures. So many years before, a letter sent to him by this very man started with those words, just like that. It was a letter used to throw him off his game, to make them believe that it was another monster that they were after.
Wagner kept grinning darkly shaking his head as if to reprimand them. His expression was made even darker by the soft and alluring, yet dangerous, candlelight dancing on his skin. He started to talk again, his voice was low, almost sweet, but they could recognize a serpent when they saw one. And he most certainly was a venomous serpent in disguise.
"I see you brought me my last wife. You are very kind, Patrick. Definitely not the man I pictured you to be for so many years, secluded in a small cell, with inmates doing… unspeakable things to me!" He suddenly stood, screaming, and the gun pointed in direction of the child. In his eyes, they could see passion and rage and even madness. And that was what probably terrorized them the most. With the old doctor, they could have talked and Jane had been positive that he could have handled him. But he was now a completely different man.
The same fear that had engulfed him one night in Malibu so many years before, when he had to open a door knowing exactly what was waiting on the other side, was now embracing him yet again.
"Dr. Wagner, please, that's not who you are. Tommy has nothing to do with me. He is just an innocent baby. Like all those kids you used to help…." Jane begged, trying to reach out with a stretched arm.
"Oh, Patrick, Patrick, Patrick… Why do you play the fool with me? After all, you've been to prison a few times, right? You know what prison can do to a man. And if you were lucky enough to be able to tame even the wildest beasts…" he paused, to let them understand his point.
Suddenly, he stood, and slowly he reached them, still standing few feet of distance. "Besides, I've already killed. One more death isn't going to change anything for me."
"Wagner, please…" Teresa begged, with her eyes closed. She didn't need to hide her tears, though. Hearing her voice, even an idiot would have understood that she was crying. It was the kind of cry of a desperate soul, who was alone and lost in the dark with no way out. It was the cry of a soul who had nothing left to lose and everything to gain. "Wagner, please, please think about how you used to be… my baby… he…." She sniffed, tightening her hold on Patrick. It was so forceful, that he knew that thought she was going to leave bruises, and that he could feel her nails slightly scratching his skin through the thin, soft cotton of his shirt.
In that moment, like hearing his parents' voice had been a siren call, Tommy awoke. He didn't cry desperately; he had always been a quiet baby. He just made tiny sounds, like he was asking for their attention. Just like his father, he wanted everyone to center their own world around him.
Wagner turned towards the baby, and stilled, lost in the sight of the child. Everybody, he thought, did something wrong at some point in their lives, but children were still innocent.
"No, you are right. I can't kill him," he told them sadly. It was like, for the first time, he was finally realizing the magnitude of what he had done to get Patrick Jane exactly where he wanted him to be. "But I can kill you both. Very Shakespearian, don't you think?" he said with a new resolve and full of rage and resentment, taking a couple of steps in their general direction and holding the gun at head height, pointing between their eyes.
"Dr. Wagner, drop your weapon, now," Johnson ordered from behind him, gun in hand, appearing out of nowhere in all her blazing glory. She sounded like the vengeful fury she surely was, like Miss Justice herself, or maybe, an Amazonian princess. Yes, she definitely was Diana of Themyscira, he thought with a small smile. He would have to keep that information safe and sound in a sector of his memory palace, for future reference.
It was strange, Jane kept thinking without noticing. Teresa was like an elf-like and delicate and yet a natural born warrior, which you could see it from her behavior. There was just something that screamed it as soon as you saw her. With Johnson, it was different. Johnson, with her heels and beautiful clothing was completely feminine, although not delicate because of her military brat heritage. Seeing her so strong and resolute, with a gun in hands felt weird and almost unnatural.
"Sorry Brenda dear, I don't think so," he told her and he refused to face her. He continued pointing the gun in direction of the people in front of him, ready to fire and get what he had desired for the last few years of his life. Not returning to practice, but getting Jane and making him suffer because he couldn't be a doctor any longer. He had killed to keep saving lives, and now that he couldn't be the person he had built over so many years, with so much work and effort, any longer, all he could do was keep on killing.
The doctor was out. The monster was in.
"Last warning, Dr. Wagner," she said coldly. Wagner just chuckled, and kept pointing the gun at the small group. As soon as she noticed the smallest movements at the trigger, without hesitation, Johnson fired her weapon three times, in quick succession, like it was natural for the blonde.
Teresa and Jane just saw the commotion, they just heard the sound reverberating through the walls, they could smell the gunshot residue. Fear froze them on the spot as everything stopped existing around them, but then, they finally saw it, Wagner grinning manically as he collapsed on the floor, the bullets leaving red and black and dark circles on his chest.
The gun he was holding, that had just been pointing at them, escaped from his hand, and falling onto the floor, the safety went off. A gunshot echoed through the walls of the room, and when he turned to look at his future wife, to tell her that everything was finally over, he saw her staring at her crimson-stained abdomen.
The safety's in the trigger. How stupid is that? I mean, it's kind of like not having a safety at all.
She stared at the scene unfolding right before her eyes, quizzically. It was like the world was moving in slow motion, and the sounds coming from their lips she only could describe as strange, grotesque, like a ruined old tape.
She couldn't understand what was happening, and how it happened. One moment she was alright, and then the next, there was blood on her shirt. Who did it belong to? She didn't know. Everything had happened so quickly that she hadn't been able to fully catch up with the action.
When Jane reached her, frantic, and desperate, she caught up. It was her blood; she had been the one injured.
He hugged her crying like a little lost child, and she collapsed in his arms.
The last thing she saw was her man's green eyes, crying tears of love and desperation. The last thing she heard was her beautiful son's fearful sobs as Johnson took him in her arms.
And, as much as she tried not to give up for them, as much as she wanted to stay with them, to comfort them, and as much as she wanted to be in Patrick's arms for the rest of their days, she failed.
The world went black.