A/N: Passages marked with an asterisk are quoted verbatim from the "Red Dawn" episode of The Mentalist.

Chapter 10: Getting Acquainted

Jane

Jane gave up at 4 a.m. His burning determination to hunt the serial killer couldn't overcome the revulsion and exhaustion of a dozen hours focused on slaughtered innocents. He had gotten through just three of the twelve boxes of files – one box per victim, plus general case notes made by the four(!) teams that previously worked on Red John. Surprisingly, there were now 11 Red John murders – another occurred when he was in the asylum. He wondered if Lisbon or Minelli noticed his error when they talked after Hannigan punched him. As he plowed through the cases, esoteric terms, acronyms, and evidence in the autopsy and crime scene reports became familiar and understandable. The interviews were harder. Statement after statement of horror, sorrow, and inconceivable loss resonated in his bones. Malibu memories and feelings pressed ever closer to his waking mind as the night wore on, wore him down.

The realization struck at 4 a.m. The procedure-bound, unimaginative, ordinary cops ... really hadn't missed anything. Unlike other cases he had helped on, there were no subtle clues hiding in plain sight, waiting for him to see and know. He wouldn't be sure till he had read and pondered all the cases. But he already was certain Red John was brilliant and meticulous. Victims appeared to be randomly chosen. The crimes were researched and planned with excruciating precision. No links to anyone. Except for Angie and Charlie. Their connection to me got them killed. No evidence, no witnesses to tie the murders to him. And no one ever survived an attack.

Jane hurried to the men's room and splashed cold water on his face. Simply stepping away from the intense chronicle of violence and grief loosened the tightness in his chest. He had done enough for now. No one will care I dragged that leather couch out. The boxes are stacked out of the way. Should be okay till I get through them all. He would finish them soon, if not this weekend.

He spent the balance of Saturday getting set up in Sacramento. He rented a place in an extended stay motel – a room with a bed, dresser, table, TV and two chairs. A bathroom. A counter for a microwave and small refrigerator. It wasn't supposed to be comfortable lest it distract him, tempt him to turn away from the horror of his recent past. He had no right to anything else till he fulfilled his promise. Then he made the 12-hour round-trip to Malibu to get the rest of his clothes. This time it took only an hour to gather the courage to enter. He ignored the bloody mark as much as possible as he retrieved the clothes and left.

Sunday found him back at the CBI reading more files, dressed in the only clothes he had - suit and dress shirt. A lot had happened in the two weeks since the asylum. He took some satisfaction in getting access to the files and infiltrating the team assigned to Red John. He fell asleep on the old couch early Monday morning, reading Red John files.

Lisbon and Elliott

"Cho, I'm meeting with SacPD before coming in. Tell Minelli if he asks. Call if we get a case."

"Will do."

Lisbon hung up and greeted Detective Elliott as he arrived at the front desk of the main SacPD station house.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Lisbon?"

"Thanks for meeting on short notice–"

He grinned, "Not much of a favor, meeting with an attractive woman–"

She colored a bit, but forged on, "–Patrick Jane has just been hired as a CBI consultant and assigned to my team. I'm hoping you can help me figure out what I've got."

Surprisingly, he stepped forward and took her elbow. She kept herself from jerking away. "Maybe we could talk over coffee across the street?" She nodded.

"Here ya go, hon," the waitress said, setting coffees on their table. They waited till she left.

Lisbon tore open a sugar packet, added it and stirred. Looking up, "Jorge, we've known each other for years. It's a simple question – what's the big deal?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Simple question, not so simple man. –You say he's consulting for the CBI?"

"For my team, yes."

"And you've still got Red John?"

"Uh-huh." Her eyebrows rose and she nodded, encouraging him to go on.

"Whose idea was that?"

"Minelli's. Jane solved a tough case." She frowned, perplexed. "Oddest way to suss out the perp I've ever seen, but it worked."

Elliott sipped his coffee. "And he just happens to be connected to Red John." He changed direction. "-Patrick Jane has kicked around advising SacPD, LAPD, and Fresno PD for years. –In fact, didn't he help SFPD while you were there?"

"Maybe once or twice. Long ago and other teams' cases."

"Jane claimed to be a psychic, but I think that was just entertainment–"

"–Fake, you mean?"

"Whatever. Like a lotta them, at first he volunteered for free publicity, for credibility for his act."

"And later?"

"He enjoys the challenge, solving the mysteries. The man is brilliant but strange. Half the time no one can figure out how he knows something. But the leads almost always pan out."

"If he only advised on a few SacPD cases, how do you know so much?"

"The murder of his family stuck out like a sore thumb. The only one where there was a motive, a connection. Some at SacPD thought he did it and made it look like Red John."

"God, really? I mean – their bodies–"

He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Grim. So we checked everything we could. When his family was killed, he was doing a live performance 90 minutes away. No way he could have killed them."

She murmured, "That doesn't rule out a hired hit."

He closed his eyes as an image surfaced. "I was at the crime scene a couple of hours after his 9-1-1 call. Jane discovered the bodies but it was hours before he called. When I got there he was covered in their blood, so dazed he was almost catatonic. The crime scene was messed up - really p.o.'d the forensics guys. Jane had cradled his dead wife and kid all those hours."

Lisbon swallowed, pictures of the broken man she met a week ago overlapping those of the man who solved the Dellinger case. She tried to keep from visualizing Elliott's description.

"That convinced me he wasn't involved. We checked it out, but I was already convinced." He stirred his coffee then continued. "Got a statement, at least as much as he could give at that point. Then didn't hear from him till after the funeral." He took a deep breath. "After that, he drove up to Sacramento every week for months, wanting to find out how we were doing. Read every news article he could find, including those about other Red John murders. After the case went cold he seemed to lose heart, then dropped out of sight. I put a BOLO out, but no sign of him–"

"-Till a week ago."

He nodded. "Till a week ago. Another thing. Just before he disappeared I stopped at his house to ask about a piece of evidence. He was living there, but the place was empty."

"Empty?"

"No furniture, nothing."

"A-n-d you think?"

"He's hunting Red John to kill him."

She muttered, "I was afraid of that."

"A lot of families react like that after a murder. This guy may actually be capable of it. He's determined, smart as hell, and tricky. You won't be able to control him. He doesn't care about the law or even himself. He'll use you, your team and the CBI to get what he wants. Trouble with a capital 't.'"

"Maybe I just won't involve him in any Red John cases."

Elliott snorted, "How do you stop him?"

Dryly, "If all else fails, jail cells work pretty well."

"Not hearing me, Lisbon."

She sat straighter having gotten what she came for. "One more thing. Will Jane pull his weight in investigations, closing cases?"

He shook his head a little in disbelief. "Oh, he'll close cases. But at what cost? And whaddya do when he's out of control on a Red John case?"

Getting up, "Guess I'll find out. –Jorge, thanks again. Call if you think of anything else, okay?"

"Sure thing. Good luck." They shook and left.

Cho

Cho hung up the phone after Lisbon's call and wondered if he should have told her Jane was sleeping in the bullpen. He decided she'd see for herself. Shortly after, Minelli's assistant Chris asked for a file Lisbon had. When Cho found the file he also noticed a sealed interoffice envelope from HR. He glanced over and confirmed Jane was still asleep. Then he took the envelope and went to an empty observation room.

Rigsby followed on his heels, interest piqued by Cho's odd behavior. "Why are you in here?" Noticing the file Cho took out of the envelope, "We got a case?"

"No."

"C'mon, Cho. Give."

Cho scowled, realizing Risgby wasn't going anywhere without an explanation. "It's Jane's HR file."

"You're not s'posed to have that." Alarmed as the realization struck, "You lifted if from Lisbon's desk?"

"Lisbon's meeting with SacPD. We need to know."

"Geez." Rigsby said, but stayed and read over Cho's shoulder.

Cho skimmed the file and huffed. Not much here. Name, Malibu address, birth date and Social Security number. He snorted at the next. "'TV performer. Entrepreneur. Consultant for PD's.' No dates, no contacts, no references, no salary history. No nothing."

Rigsby's voice startled him, too loud next to his ear, "Man, this is closer to a blank sheet of paper than a personnel file. What gives?"

"Yeah." They continued reading. Education fields are blank even though the guy must have a degree or two. Looks like he comes from money, so there probably should even be a prep school listed. No military service – not a surprise. Cho pushed his chair back. "Hell, I've gotten more from a victim's wallet than I am from this."

"No emergency contact, doctor, or next of kin," Rigsby seconded.

Something got Cho's attention, "But he lists the date of his last tetanus shot."

"So?"

"When was your last shot?"

"I'd have to look it up."

"Exactly."

Rigsby shrugged and moved on, "No criminal history." They leafed through the criminal background check. There were a few speeding tickets and a juvie file that had been sealed almost 20 years ago.

"Clean," Cho concluded. "Unless he's just smart enough to get away with it."

"Why so suspicious? I know the psychic thing is a little sketchy, but–"

Cho looked over his shoulder at his partner. "He said there's no such thing as psychics. If he didn't believe in that crap himself, then he knowingly bilked people out of their money. A lot sketchy."

"Not enough to get arrested," Rigsby countered weakly.

Cho continued leafing through the pages. "No tax problems." He snorted, "Great credit rating, but no credit cards, no mortgage, not even a car payment."

"Must have paid cash." Rigsby voiced his confusion. "I don't get it. It's like he didn't want to put down any information. He barely has a paper trail."

"Yeah."

They turned to the drug screening report. Cho's lips twitched when he noticed Minelli had HR order the expanded version. Minelli's taking him with a grain of salt. Good. "Not a druggie or boozer."

Rigsby scanned down the list. "Prescription sleeping pills."

Cho noted the last items. Traces of several prescription drugs, the kind used for mental patients. Huh.

Rigsby straightened. "What do you make of it?"

"Secretive, sketchy – at least in the past. We'll see if he's useful."

"Trust him?"

"Why would I?"

Cho abruptly shoved the folder back into the envelope and resealed it. "Need to put this back." He grabbed Rigsby's arm before he could leave. "This didn't happen."

Rigsby swallowed. "Right."

Lisbon

Lisbon expertly threaded her way through the morning traffic, but her mind was elsewhere. Elliott gave me a lot to think about. At least he confirmed Jane's abilities, his track record with PD's. The Dellinger breakthrough wasn't a fluke. Good. ... She swallowed a lump in her throat. Jorge's description of the murder scene sounded ... heart-rending. Not 'one sad survivor,' 'one devastated survivor.' And still no clue what happened when he dropped out of sight.

She picked up her cell, saw it was Minelli, and answered. "Lisbon."

"Stop by my office when you get in. It's short."

"Will be there in 15 minutes."

"Good."

Her thoughts returned to her new consultant. Elliott makes him sound like a handful. She scrunched up her nose as she thought. Well, sure, I can see the potential. After a shaky start, he controlled a room of hostile subjects and broke the perp for God's sake! And he did it on the fly. One helluva performance. ... How the hell did he go from broken survivor to commanding presence in a week? She waited for a break in traffic to turn left. Once he got going he was ... mesmerizing. His voice. Eyes. Charisma. Brilliant as well as handsome– She pulled herself up short. Wait! Where the hell did that come from? He's a grieving widower who now works for me, for heaven's sake. With luck, he'll help solve cases without causing too much trouble over Red John. Have to think about that. She was waved through the gate then smiled as she spied a vacant space in the always-crowded lot outside the CBI entrance. If we get our numbers up a little the team can park out here, she thought contemplating that highly visible top-team-of-the-month perk.

Minelli waved her in.

"Close the door, Lisbon."

She did then sat across from Minelli.

"Yes, Sir?"

"You've had a weekend to think. Still want Jane on your team?"

Cautiously, "Yes."

He exhaled slowly. "I got a call from Alexa Shultz Friday night."

"FBI assistant director, right?"

"Right. For some reason the Feebs are v-e-r-y interested in Red John. And Patrick Jane."

"Why?"

"Remains to be seen. –She asked and I agreed to keep her abreast of our progress with the case."

"They planning to take it over, or – or–"

"Don't think so. Have no idea what their game is, which is why I agreed. Keep that line of communication open so maybe I can find out."

"Um, does that affect how my team works the case?"

"No. We're not going to jump every time the Feebs call. But you deserve to know something Shultz said about Jane." He had her rapt attention. "Shultz claims Jane was in a mental institution when he was off the radar."

She breathed out in surprise. "Any way we can confirm that? And does it change anything?"

Minelli tossed a folder to her. "Copy of Jane's personnel file from HR. More fields blank than answered. Nothing about his medical background, though after his family's murder a breakdown wouldn't be surprising."

She skimmed the pages as he spoke. "From what is here, nothing rules out consulting for the CBI. No criminal background, no drug or alcohol abuse." She looked up, questioning.

"There are traces of psychiatric prescription drugs. Maybe Shultz is correct. I wanted to give you a heads up – and a chance to change your mind."

She sat back and thought for a moment, confident Minelli wouldn't rush her. "I talked with Elliott at SacPD this morning. Jane's worked with PD's for years and has a history of brilliant breakthroughs. And like it or not, he is connected to Red John. He wants to be here, could be at risk from Red John if he's out there on his own."

Impatiently, "And he's hell bent on killing the bastard."

"Elliott thought so, too."

"And you, Lisbon?"

"Maybe. Probably."

"Decision time. What do you want to do?"

"Keep him. He can help close cases and he is linked to Red John. There must be some reason Red John singled him out – aside from the stupid on-air thing. He's probably safer with the CBI."

"Okay." Minelli tapped out a cigarette, sixth of the day judging from the butts in the ashtray. "Keep an eye on him. Let's talk if things seem to be going off the rails."

"Yes, Sir."

Minelli took his copy of Jane's file back. Lisbon left to finally get to her office and start the workweek.

Lisbon's Team

Lisbon dropped her things off in her office, went to check on the bullpen and pulled up short. An old, brown leather couch was now under the window, replacing the desk Jane had been using. Red John storage boxes were stacked around it. What grabbed her attention was the man asleep on that couch. She frankly stared, the first time she could simply observe without interacting, without him being her problem to solve.

Patrick Jane lay there, curls sifting gold from the sun, handsome face untroubled in sleep, lips full and sensuous, long eyelashes immodest, luxurious. His eyes were closed, but their stormy blue‑green was unforgettable. His crisp suit was perfectly tailored to the lean, beautifully formed man in front of her. Sure, she'd seen sleeping men, occasionally handsome ones – some even naked in her bed. But none looked like they dropped by from a GQ photo shoot. Or a Calvin Klein ad – nah, too many clothes. A wave of attraction crashed over her leaving a wash of warmth in its wake, heat curling in her lower torso. Holy Mother of God, it's not enough he's brilliant, charismatic and strong enough to survive the murders. He's drop dead gorgeous too. She blinked. Damn, am I in trouble! -Get a grip, Teresa.

She dimly heard Cho say something. It finally registered.

"Hey, Boss."

She looked over her shoulder, "Shh." She definitely didn't want Jane waking up at this moment.

"We caught one. Fresno," said Cho, voice lowered. He eyed his boss suspiciously. Jane is sleeping on the job. How the hell does that get a pass?!

Lisbon replied, "Get Rigsby. Let's leave before traffic."

"Okay."

Lisbon left Jane at the CBI. Flustered, the last thing she wanted was for Jane to accompany them, to 'read' her reactions. She needed time and distance to lock down this unprecedented response so she could return to being the impartial, professional unit leader. Maybe he can check out any suspects after we work the crime scene. Yeah. When we get to that point. They were on the road in a CBI van before ten minutes had elapsed.

It was late the next day before they returned. Fresno was too far to drive each day. Tired and out of sorts, they had finished most of the leg work. Now it was time to pore over the evidence and hash out who was most likely the culprit.

The three passed through security and took the elevator to 5. Lisbon noted a big dent in the decorative metalwork that hadn't been there when they left, then dismissed it. When they reached their floor Lisbon noticed a clump of agents from other units standing around talking, shooting glances their way every now and then. Just me, or are they looking at us?

In a low voice, Lisbon said, "Rigsby, go talk to those agents. If something's going on that affects the SCU, I want to know about it." Rigsby rubbed shoulders easily with most of the agents on their floor, unlike Cho who intimidated them. For all the professional respect Lisbon garnered, she would never be "one of the guys" with whom agents would share gossip. She had her sources, but Rigsby was the fastest way to find out.

"Right away, Boss." Rigsby walked to his desk and shed his notepad, holstered gun, and videotapes from the victim's family. He then got coffee and strolled over to the group of agents.

Lisbon and Cho followed him into the break room to prepare their own coffees. Jane was nowhere to be found. She caught what could have grown into a smile if it were anyone but Cho.

"What?"

He motioned with his head. "New kettle for tea. And–" as he took down a mug from the cabinet, "tea cups." There were several never-before-seen cups and saucers in the cabinet above the counter. She also spied a boxed assortment of tea bags.

She frowned, "Jane?"

"Yeah."

"Why'd he bother? Could'a just used the mugs already here."

"Coffee oils ruin tea. Guess he's particular."

"Why is that not a surprise," she muttered.

Rigsby strolled back. He glanced around to confirm no other agents were within earshot. "Found out what the buzz is," he said with a wide grin.

"Out with it, Rigs."

"Hannigan broke his hand."

"What?"

"He took a swing in the elevator. Jane ducked. Hannigan hit the metal frame and broke his hand."

"Damn. They say anything else?"

"Yeah. Zartanian was there. Jane just congratulated Hannigan on his new position. Hannigan took it the wrong way."

"Jane didn't bait him?"

Rigsby scratched his head. "Didn't say either way. At worst it was ambiguous." Lisbon's glare wiped the grin off his face.

"Go do something useful," Lisbon growled and strode off to her office.

Rigsby and Cho exchanged glances. They didn't mind at all if Jane had gotten Hannigan's goat, so long as he could get away with it.

"Ah, back again, I see," Jane smiled, suddenly appearing behind them.

"Jane." Cho nodded.

Rigsby started, "Hey, I heard–"

"Jane, in my office. Now!" Lisbon called sharply.

Jane shrugged. "Later."

He strolled into Lisbon's office. Of course, voices carried.

"Jane, what happened with Hannigan?"

"I congratulated him on taking a new position," Jane answered mildly.

"And he just happened to take a swing at you?"

"Yeah. No idea why."

She paused a moment, then asked calmly, "Tell me exactly what you said."

"Congratulations on taking a new position, Hannigan. I'm sure you'll do well there." His face was pleasant and neutral.

She huffed. "And you didn't think he'd react badly?"

Innocently, "Why? I just congratulated him."

Suspiciously, "Didn't know his new unit is a big step down from the SCU?"

He spread his hands, "It is? Had no idea."

"Just go back to the bullpen, Jane." She thought to add, "–And stay away from Hannigan."

He smiled, a twinkle of amusement glittering in his eyes, "Your wish is my command, Senior Agent Lisbon."

"Don't push it. Oh. Talk to Cho and Rigsby and get up to speed on the case."

He smiled a real smile then left.