Chapter 11: the lions that they led you to

The sun rises over the hills behind them as the team races west to Sonoma County. There have been other times Lisbon has driven this fast and with this much focus. There have been other situations when a life has been at stake. But never before has her heart beaten an insistent tattoo of "please, please, please, please."

At this speed the drive to Sonoma County will take just over an hour. Lisbon made the call not to bring in Sonoma County Police. Of course, they would have been at the house already. She prays this is an hour they can afford; an hour Jane can afford.

She can see the taillights of Rigsby and Van Pelt's vehicle in front of them. Van Pelt's voice comes through the radio. "Boss, I've been looking into Christian Baxter."

"Who?"

"The SOCO we were testing to see if he's Red John's man."

"Chris," says Cho. "The guy at Jane's place with the magnifying goggles."

"Turns out he's the Attorney General's godson," says Van Pelt.

Lisbon doesn't have time to determine if this is meaningful but the decision to keep all of this within the team is looking like it was the right one.

Thirty minutes further on they pull to a skidding halt in a rest stop and swap drivers. It's important that they are all alert for whatever they're facing next.

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Jane uses the time Red John is absent to mentally prepare himself. On Red John's return Jane keeps his eyes soft while he notes every detail. Red John is wearing a burgundy smoking jacket. His hair is slicked back. Apparently theatrical dressing runs in the family alongside a penchant for manipulating people.

Red John scans the room. He picks up the urinal bottle he left for Jane with a look of distaste and walks out. Jane hears him empty the bottle in what must be an attached washroom.

"Keep your fluids up," Red John says, re-entering. He's holding a glass of water. "Dehydrated people are not as entertaining as you might think. They tend to hallucinate. Real fear is so much more interesting than imagined fear." He sits on the edge of the bed. Jane is starting to understand his energy. It's disquieting.

"Tell me about her," says Jane after a moment.

"Our mother?"

"Yes," says Jane

It's as though Red John has been waiting a lifetime to tell Jane everything. Jane listens through an extensive litany of pettiness and abuse. He nods and murmurs sympathy. As he listens he mirrors Red John's breathing.

"She could be kind, too," says Red John.

"That only makes it worse," says Jane as though he understands. Maybe he does understand.

Red John stands slowly. Then he kneels on the floor before Jane. Their faces are close and level. Jane doesn't blink.

This face is the last image his wife and child ever saw.

"Imagine what you would have been, if our situations were reversed," says Red John.

For a flash, Jane does imagine. It sickens him. But he is focussed on the fact that the murderer is this close, breathing the same air as Jane breathes. Jane centers himself then brings his free arm down hard on the back of Red John's head. At the same time he lashes out with both legs, kicking Red John in the abdomen.

Red John lands on his back with a thud. For a moment he closes his eyes and Jane thinks maybe he has done something useful. But it is hopeless. It was always hopeless.

Red John sits up. "You forget yourself," he says, in a voice which is high and precise.

He walks to a cabinet across the room. Jane has already examined all the areas he can access while cuffed to the bed. The cabinet is too far away. Jane hasn't seen the electric prod Red John pulls out.

Jane's breathing surges unavoidably. Red John brings the prod to Jane's chest. Jane hates his weakness but can't help but try to twist away.

"Pretty, isn't it?" says Red John and squeezes the trigger.

Jolts ravage Jane. He is left struggling for breath.

"It was your mother's," Red John continues. "Mind your manners and remember why we are here unless you want me to find something new to play with."

Jane nods. Red John pulls out rope and lashes Jane's feet to the foot of the bed. Jane is splayed on the bed. With difficulty, he quiets his mind.

"Silly of me," Jane says. He tries to sound calm and apologetic but his voice shakes. "I am more than sorry, John. I snapped for a moment and forgot myself. It was a weakness. After all the things we have been through alone, I would hate to miss this time we have together."

Red John calmly packs away the prod. He then lies down on his back next to Jane. He takes Jane's free hand in his.

Jane holds his breath. He thinks of Lisbon for a fleeting instant and silently begs her to hurry. Tears prick his eyes and he is ashamed.

"It's alright, brother," Red John says. "I accept your apology." He lies still, holding Jane's hand between them, breathing steadily.

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The retirement community is pretty and well-manicured. The community website has a map along with illustrative house plans so the team knows exactly where Vera Reid's house lies. They park around the corner and step out of the cars.

Lisbon meets Rigsby's eyes and directs him and Van Pelt to the rear of the house. She and Cho head to the front door.

This is not the time to announce themselves. Cho picks the lock with an ease which Lisbon doesn't question.

The house is light and airy. There are closed circuit cameras in the hallway. They look like blank black eyes. Lisbon's skin crawls.

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There is a buzz, a brief vibration which Jane feels through the mattress. Red John starts. He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out an electronic tablet. He looks at the screen for a long time. Jane can see the camera footage on the screen. On it Lisbon and Cho are moving forward cautiously, guns at the ready.

"Lisbon!" Jane yells as he has a hundred times before. "Lisbon!"

At that, Red John pulls his hand from Jane's and turns in the bed.

"What have you done?" he says. He is quiet for a moment then his voice rises and cracks in a scream. "What have you done?" His face is twisted with rage. He leaps from the bed and toward the cabinet.

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Lisbon and Cho run in the direction of the voices.

"In here," Lisbon says at a closed door. It's locked. She and Cho kick the door in as one, with a rhythm born of years working together.

Jane is there. He is tied to the bed. Her heart constricts.

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Jane meets Lisbon's clear eyes across the room for a thousandth of a second.

Then Red John is bearing down on him. He has a spiked club and is swinging it toward Jane's head. Lisbon yells. Red John loses focus enough to miss Jane's skull. The spikes thud painfully into Jane's shoulder and neck.

Cho calls out, "Drop it!" in a cop voice.

Rigsby and Van Pelt plunge in, guns waving. The room is packed full of weaponry. Red John lifts his club. Everyone is frozen in place like a creepy diorama.

"Drop it," says Rigsby.

"Now," says Van Pelt.

Red John's club falls to the carpeted floor with a dead thud. Jane takes a breath. He has never been more grateful to be part of a team.

Lisbon moves toward the bed. Her face hovers in the air above Jane.

"Okay?" she asks quickly.

He nods mutely, tries a weak smile.

She rests the back of her fingers against his forehead. Her eyes are bright.

Red John sags against the far wall and curls his head against his knees. He is shuddering. Between sobs he wails. Mostly it's incomprehensible but now and then he manages, "Brother. My brother."

Jane closes his eyes briefly. He can feel the wet warmth of blood on the side of his head and his shoulder.

"Call dispatch and get an ambulance," Lisbon says. Van Pelt steps out of the room.

Red John continues keening like a dying animal. After everything, the noise is almost unbearable.

Suddenly the keening stops. Red John shifts. His whole demeanor transforms. He looks directly at Lisbon. "I'll come for you, first." He speaks calmly and his face is a blank mask but his voice could cut flesh. "You will never be able to keep me in prison. My friends will have me out before you have time to even think about stopping them. And I'll come."

It would be a whole new kind of torment - Red John in court. There would be the nightmare of studying every lawyer, every guard, every court officer for signs that they had been turned. They would live with the knowledge that at any time Red John might saunter out onto the street and make his way to someone's front door.

Lisbon is still for a long moment.

"You may be right," she says, looking at Red John.

Then she hands her gun to Jane.

"Look away if you need to," she says to Rigsby and Cho. Neither does.

Jane lifts himself awkwardly on his side. He meets his brother's blue eyes. John smiles as Jane pulls the trigger.

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Afterwards Lisbon takes her gun. She wipes it carefully. She says, for the sake of her team, "He came at Jane with the club. I shot him. You guys okay with that?"

Jane tries to say thank you, but it's not the kind of thing you thank people for. Lisbon shrugs it away, but she does it gently. She couldn't claim to understand what Jane has gone through.

She keeps her eyes on him until the paramedics arrive.

It's early afternoon. Jane is on the back steps of his mother's house. Lisbon sits beside him. Around them, there's a whirlwind of police and paramedics, lights and sounds and people. For a time they give Lisbon and Jane space.

"He asked me what I would have turned into, if I'd been the one our mother had taken with her," Jane says at length.

Lisbon nods. She thinks about the thousands of children who've been abused and manage not to kill anyone. She thinks about Jane's father, who is hardly an exemplary parent. She thinks about all the things Jane could have been and isn't, or isn't any more. She says, "You could never have been him."

It's a warm day. Jane tilts his head to the sun. He doesn't look at Lisbon as he reaches out to her. She takes his hand in hers, holds on.

There are a million things to say. For now they leave them unsaid.

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Note: This is not the end... though it's the end of Red John which is a relief for me. There are still a lot of feeeelings to resolve. Ah. Love and death and love again.