A/N: Yes, I'm back. Yes, it's a new chapter. No, the writer's block has not gone away. So I have not been having any luck whatsoever with this fic. I've had more luck playing Big 2 with friends than I do with writing at the moment. But on the bright side, the Jellies are underway and voting is taking place at Jello-Forever. If you're confused by what I just said, read my profile. If you're a member of my Mentalist forum, go over, register and vote for your favourite Mentalist fanfics! Plug done. *whew* Anyhow back to the story... It's almost over. I think I only have a few more ideas before tying up the loose ends. The rest isn't written yet so it's hard to say how this all wraps up. I guess I'll have to see where my muse takes me. Apologies again for the lateness. I do hope the next chapter will be up within the week. As for this chapter, there's less dialogue more inner thoughts, particularly from Van Pelt's POV, some Cho. I can't give too much away. Oh and one last thing, this chapter isn't beta'd, so I might go back and change a few things. I just really wanted to post an update. I highly recommend you re-read Chapter 9 again too. Well, that's it. Thank you to all those who have been reading. I cannot tell you how grateful I am for everyone who's put me on their Alert and Favourite Lists. TY TY TY! So, all I can say now is, enjoy.

Spoilers: 1x23 Red John's Footsteps.

Disclaimer: I tried to appeal a judge's decision to grant me full rights to everything related to the Mentalist. Unfortunately, Mr. Heller has very well paid lawyers.

Chapter 10 – Van Pelt Believed in Compassion

She wasn't exactly sure what had happened. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She knew. She just refused to believe it. Sitting completely still, Van Pelt stared at the silvery glare bouncing off her wrist. The entire situation seemed too farfetched to be real. She tugged her arm. No, she was definitely cuffed to the steering wheel of Cho's CBI issued vehicle, care of one, Patrick Jane. She really had to learn not to be so trusting. She should have learned her lesson by now. What was that old adage her Gran used to say? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Letting out a frustrated groan, Van Pelt focused on finding something, anything, to free herself. Unfortunately for her, the van was virtually spotless. Aside from a discarded bag of chips, which probably was Rigsby's and a black hair tie, there was nothing she could remotely fashion into a lock pick. She instantly frowned, the black elastic holding her attention. With her free hand, Van Pelt reached over and plucked it from the floor. There was no question in her mind that the band belonged to Lisbon. Her gaze floated over to the house just up a small hill. Cho and Rigsby were taking an awfully long time, too long. She uncomfortably shifted in her seat. She needed to get out. Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the unmistakable sound of gunfire. Two successive shots followed by the briefest of pauses before a third and final pop. Her mind raced at light speed with the same question. Who was shot? Lisbon? Rigsby? Cho? Jane? She was staring at the band in her hand when inspiration hit. Reaching up, she freed a bobby pin from her bun, her hair cascading down onto her shoulders in the process. Wedging the two ends apart with her teeth, she attempted to unlock the cuffs.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," she muttered, praying that sheer will would be enough to break the metal apart.

It was faint, but when she heard the gratifying sound of the mechanism snapping open, she didn't even bother removing the end attached to her wrist as she all but flew out of the SUV. With her hand immediately on her gun, she was through the door in minutes. The house was dead silent. A small hallway leading to a kitchenette on her right, a staircase to her left, but what caught her eye was the open alcove just ahead of her. The figure closest to Van Pelt was standing with his back towards her. A gun, similar to her own, was held steadily in his tight grasp. He turned around and her eyes locked with Cho's, if only for the briefest of moments. Cautiously, she approached him. It was hard to tell what had happened by the blank expression on his face. He slowly dropped his arm and she followed suit, taking the empty space beside him. Nervously, she turned her head and stared into the living room. A small gasp escaped her lips. Even after spending almost two years with the team, she was still getting used to seeing crime scenes in high definition. She should have expected the blood, yet it still managed to surprise her. Deep scarlet against varnished wood, a single bullet wound through the skull of a man dressed in uniform, stained in the same colour as the floor, a logo emblazoned with 'San Angelo's Sheriff's Department' on his breast pocket. He lay sprawled on his back, crimson trickling from his gaping mouth. When she got over the shock, Van Pelt reacted almost automatically. She knelt down beside the body and pressed two fingers against his neck. A second passed, followed by another, before she felt a faint flutter beneath her touch.

"He's alive," she whispered in disbelief.

When she looked up, she found herself staring at Jane. He was barely standing, his shoulders slumped forward slightly, his eyes glazed over in utter despair, blond curls matted to his temple in dried blood. Van Pelt instantly recalled the time she had caught him crying. That was when she realized just how damaged Patrick Jane really was. She was so used to the 'happy go lucky, arrogant, but seemingly always right' routine he pulled on a regular basis. So when she saw him break down and completely vulnerable, it shook her perception of him. But the pain she saw then was unparalleled to what was radiating from the depths of his gaze. She should have been angry, furious with the stunt he had pulled just a few short minutes ago. Instead, she felt her heart breaking for him.

"Jane?" her voice sounded timid to her own ears.

She was about to reach out to him when a hand clamped down on her wrist. She didn't have enough time to even scream as a bullet ripped past her. Her eyes were wide, her heart pounded wildly against her chest. She was only able to stare speechlessly at her saviour from across the room as Cho holstered his weapon and hurried to her side.

"Are you okay?" he asked, monotone, not even the slightest of reactions.

Numbly, Van Pelt nodded her head in response, accepting Cho's outstretched hand. From the corner of her eye she could see Jane, now bent over the body. The corner of his mouth twitched before he grabbed the deputy by the collar of his shirt.

"You don't get to die like this, you miserable son of a bitch," he seethed in a voice barely audible. "You should pay for what you did her. You deserve to suffer…"

Jane violently shook Rohen as though the man could be pulled from death's doorstep. Van Pelt wanted desperately to look away but she couldn't, all she could do was watch as Cho pried Jane away. The stoic agent's hands firmly grasped Jane by the shoulders, forcing the two of them to look at each other, face to face.

"Get a hold of yourself, Jane," Cho said evenly. "Forget about Rohen. Lisbon is still out there. She's alive, I know she's alive and we're going to find her."

The calming words seemed to have their desired effect as the fury receded from Jane's eyes and the wheels began turning inside of the consultant's head. After only a few seconds, something must have clicked. Jane was muttering nonsense to no one in particular as he spun around and stumbled into the hallway. Without a word, Cho followed closely behind, leaving Van Pelt alone in the living room with Rohen. She remained frozen in place, drawn in by Rohen's vacant stare. She knew he was already as good as dead before the fatal shot. She knew. But for some reason that didn't make her feel any less remorseful. A life was taken, albeit from an evil man. A life was still a life. She wondered what went wrong in Rohen's life to have led the man to his cruel fate. Crouching down, Van Pelt hesitantly slid Rohen's lids shut with her fingers before she straightened to join Cho and Jane. They were already on the second floor when she made it to the stairwell. She climbed up and noticed Cho standing at the end of a rather long hallway. Jane must have been inside of the furthest room. But before she could reach them, a muffled sound caused her to spin back around. Though she didn't notice it the first time she walked past it, the door to her right was splintered down the middle panel, the knob no where to be found. She took the pre-emptive measure of wrapping her fingers around her gun as she slowly swung the door open with her foot. Glass littered the aquamarine tiled floor in front of her, with someone lying face down in the middle of the debris.

"Rigsby," she breathed as she rushed over to his side.

He grunted as she helped him to sit up. She noticed a particularly nasty shard of glass had lodge itself into his flesh above his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she asked before mentally slapping herself on the forehead. "Of course you're not."

"The gunshots..."

"Cho," she explained. "Red John, Rohen, he's dead."

Relief flooded his face, momentarily.

"And Lisbon?"

Van Pelt simply shrugged her shoulders.

"I, we don't know."

"Well, what are we sitting around here for?"

He tried in vain to get onto his feet but ended up falling back into Van Pelt's steady arms.

"We need to get you to a hospital."

"I'm fine."

"Rigsby, you're hurt."

"Really, it's okay," he insisted.

A crooked smile formed across his lips.

"I'm beginning to think that bathrooms are hazardous to my health."

She grinned at his remark as he chuckled. His body tensed against her when he winced.

"Rigsby…"

"No," he stared at Van Pelt earnestly. "We're finding Lisbon first. If it were me out there, Lisbon wouldn't stop looking."

Van Pelt couldn't say no to the determined look on Rigsby's face as she helped him off the floor, wrapping an arm around his back for support. Unexpectedly, he reached over and brushed a loose strand of hair that had fallen into her face. She was stunned for a moment as he noticed for the first time, the handcuffs attached to her wrist. She followed his gaze but offered no explanation. Thankfully, he didn't pry. She held his attention as she brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth. Blushing a vibrant red at the gesture, Rigsby opened and closed his mouth but no words came out. He fixed a questioning look at her as she could feel her own cheeks coloring.

"That was for earlier."

Cho has killed many times before. He was good at his job, great in fact, one of the best state agents, at least according to his annual reviews. Yet behind that impassive pretence, it still affected him when he had to take a life. Of course he never showed it. Everyone saw him as cool, calm, collected Cho. Most of the time he was the epitome of stoicism, but this case had been different from the get go. It always was when it involved Red John. He was still convinced that Rohen wasn't their man. But this entire day did remind him of when he had slipped up once before, allowing Jared Renfrew to escape. It was one of the few times Cho had faltered. Only on that occasion, it didn't involve Lisbon's life being held in the balance. He felt his chest tighten just thinking about his boss, his friend. He had overheard most of the conversation between Rohen and Jane. The Deputy's words were filled with such malice that Cho refused to believe anything that came from his mouth. So when he took that shot, he knew exactly what he was doing. Cho could have easily killed the man instantly if he wanted to, but he felt like he owed Lisbon the satisfaction of allowing Rohen to suffer just a little. He just never expected to feel so guilty when he did put the sick bastard out of his misery. The image of Van Pelt's startled face etched in his mind put him somewhat at ease. Rationally, he did the right thing. He saved Jane's life, even if he wasn't at all grateful and then he saved Van Pelt's. He did the right thing. Cho studied the man standing in front of him. Jane looked hollow, merely a shadow of his normal self. He had climbed the stairs earlier in a frenzied state, almost tripping over his own two feet. After making it to the top, Cho was overwhelmed by the sweet fetid odour of blood. It was so heavy in the air, Cho could almost taste it and the scent became more pungent as they reached the end of the hall, which was where they were currently standing. Jane's hand was poised in the air, unmoving, as though someone had pressed pause and had merely forgotten. Cho could have sworn, the consultant was muttering something under his breath but he couldn't make out the words. If he were a different person, Cho would have given him some comforting reassurances, would have made a joke to lighten the mood. But he was who he was and so he remained silent at Jane's side, half wanting to know and half dreading what they would find on the other side of the door.

Jane had scrambled up the steps, catching himself from tripping numerous times. Frantically, he scanned the empty hallway as his feet moved on their own towards the room farthest from him. Even before he reached the door, he was hit by an overwhelming but familiar metallic scent, assaulting his nostrils. Surprisingly it didn't affect him, his brain concentrating instead on piecing together what he knew. What he didn't count on was Cho's voice ringing in his ears, clashing in opposition with Rohen's.

"I just only wished Agent Lisbon was here to see this…"

"Lisbon is still out there…"

"I would ask you to say hello to Agent Lisbon for me but we both know you won't be seeing her…"

"She's alive, I know she's alive and we're going to find her…"

Jane screwed his eyes shut as he forced his mind to focus before realizing that he was already standing in front of the last door. He reached out a hand, his arm inadvertently stopping in mid-air. His body was chilled with the nauseating sensation of déjà-vu. This time, he was at least able to prepare himself for what lay just beyond the door. Something he couldn't even begin to fathom all those years ago. He had been standing in the exact same position before, feeling the same palpable dread sinking into his entire being. But knowing what he knew now was far from comforting. He wasn't sure he could survive that again. He wasn't sure he would be able to save himself if he found Lisbon the same way he found his family.

"She's alive," he whispered his lifeline mantra. "Lisbon's alive."

He was so deep in thought that he had forgotten Cho was still standing right behind him. Steeling himself with a shaky breath, Jane slowly turned the knob. The room was rather dark and it took a few moments for his eyes to discern anything. When his eyes adjusted to the soft light, he could make out just one tiny window, hidden behind dusty slated blinds. But it was what was beside the window that caused his heart to almost stop beating. It felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked from lungs and the room receded into the background. Painted on the wall, a crimson face stared smugly at him, its lips curved upwards in a repulsive smirk.

TBC