AN: Wait, did I actually respond to all of the signed reviews for Chapter 11? I think I did! I must be ill! And if I missed someone, I'm so sorry!

This is the part where I tell you again that I may or may not have some of these same theories about what's going to happen on the show. At the end of this, I might tell you what I actually think, but we'll see. ;)

And…please go check out Boy Wonder! The lovely Donna and I have worked very hard on it, and it's definitely some of our best writing. Don't get hung up on the fact that it's Jane/Angela – I promise you won't be disappointed! In fact, you just might like it!

The Art of Sanctuary

Chapter Twelve

When this was all over, Lisbon absently thought to herself, she was going to take a vacation. A very long one, in which she did nothing other than sit on a beach all day and drink brightly colored cocktails. At this point, she wasn't even sure if she would invite Jane along.

They were going to break into Visualize and steal their personnel records. It seemed like the most ridiculous idea in the world, considering all the luck they'd had in the past when it came to illegally garnering information from that particular cult.

But Jane had concluded that this was what they were doing, so she had buckled her proverbial seatbelt and held on.

She tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that once he had robbed a casino after planning the heist for a mere five hours. It didn't work.

The whole team had been holed up in her office for the vast majority of the afternoon, poring over records and hastily compiled blueprints and sketches of Visualize's main building. They had narrowed their options down to the four rooms that they felt had the most potential for holding what they wanted.

"When are we going to make our play?" Rigsby asked once, looking up from a badly drawn map of the lobby.

"Two days from now," Jane replied, sketching intently. "They're holding some sort of open house, so there's going to be a lot more people there than normal. We want all the distraction we can get."

"Wait, we're doing this in the daytime?" Cho asked, brows furrowed.

"It'll be a lot easier than doing it at night," Jane told him. "A few people going in the wrong direction during a public event doesn't look nearly as suspicious as a few people breaking and entering after visiting hours are over."

He had a point there, but Lisbon still thought the cover of darkness would make her feel better. Then again, maybe it wouldn't. She didn't trust the dark lately. Of course, she didn't trust the light much either.

She caught herself thinking of white sand and flip flops again, and supposed that meant she hadn't completely resigned herself to dying in the next few days.

Once, she glanced up to catch Jane looking at her with heat in his eyes, and she knew that he was thinking about the night before.

Quickly averting her gaze, she felt a blush heat her cheeks. Since they'd arrived at work that morning, she'd honestly not had much time to go over what had happened.

God, she wondered what had gotten into her. She had basically held the man down and had her way with him. Then again, Jane hadn't put up too much of a fight. Especially the third and fourth times.

She allowed herself thirty seconds to relieve some of her favorite parts – his fingers brushing against her skin, the ridiculous things he could do with his mouth, the warmth of his exhausted body. The way he said her name.

For ten years, she had been dreaming about it, and now she knew. There was some comfort in that. Naturally, her fantasies hadn't come close to matching the reality, the true emotional punch that being with Jane in that way would pack.

It was far beyond physical.

She wondered if he felt the same way. Yes, he had admitted to wanting her, to caring, but she didn't have the confirmation she was really seeking. To know that he really did love her the way she loved him. To know that she wasn't some second place prize in lieu of his wife.

But those thoughts hurt too much, so she focused herself back on their plans, all the while thinking it would be a miracle if they all came out of this alive.

Around four that afternoon, the team went back to the bullpen to wind down from the day. Planning a massive scheme didn't leave much time to check e-mails.

Jane brought her another cup of coffee and was just settling on the couch when Robert Kirkland knocked on the door.

Mentally, she braced herself, silently cursing everything in sight.

Kirkland sat without waiting for permission.

"Lisbon, Jane," he said by way of greeting. "Sorry for not calling ahead, but the past twenty four hours have been quite busy." Now that she looked closer, she saw that Kirkland hadn't shaved and that his shirt was wrinkled. She knew the signs of a man who hadn't slept, mainly thanks to all the time she spent with Jane.

"Any leads with the break in?" Jane asked politely, though she was sure he was very interested in the answer.

Kirkland took a deep breath, looking like he was about to reveal something unpleasant.

"The break in was in my office, specifically," Kirkland said. "I had some things stored on an external hard drive, things related to the Red John case, not uploaded on the DHS server." His eyes shifted to Jane, who looked unreadable even to her trained eye. "Nothing else was taken. As you might have guessed, this particular turn of events disturbs me greatly."

"I see," she said, thinking hard again. Should they believe him? Or was he playing them?

"Bobby," Jane broke in, "please forgive my skepticism, but you haven't exactly proven to me that the little backstory you gave me was true."

Kirkland turned directly towards him, and something change in his posture.

"Naturally, Boy Wonder," he said, and it was Jane's turn to sit up straighter. His past wasn't exactly top secret, but there were not very many people who knew about where he had come from.

"You were a legend, you know," Kirkland said, words coming faster. "I saw you perform a couple of times, and you almost made a believer out of me, even though I knew the whole thing was a farce. You would hardly recognize him," he told her, still not looking in her direction. "He was eighteen and flashy and an expert at fleecing the half-drunk locals."

Jane's brows furrowed, and he appeared to be rapidly coming to a few conclusions. "What was your gig?" he finally asked.

Kirkland's smile was unsettling. "My parents ran the carousels and a few ring toss games. Of course, that doesn't take any particular skill, and so we weren't exactly in high demand. We never stayed with one show for long."

She remembered how, weeks ago, he told her he liked to say that he grew up in America. That all made sense now.

"But you," he went on, "you were something else. You could have ruled the world. Could have been the biggest fish in our little pond. But then you walked away from everything. Hell, I could hardly believe it. I would have given anything to be where you were."

There was a moment of charged silence. Then, "As interesting as that all was, you still haven't given me anything to work with," Jane said.

"True enough" Kirkland conceded. "I'll be brief – I had no talent for the carnie lifestyle, and I had no interest in it after I realized that. By the time I left, a few years after you did, I was acting as security, and I wondered if I could make a career out of it."

He shifted back in his chair. "I met my wife when I was in college. When I graduated, I went to the academy and joined the Burbank PD."

From the look on Jane's face, he had started to see where this story was headed. She wished she did, too.

"My third year on the force, we caught our first Red John case. It was his third known victim, enough that we were all comfortable calling him a serial killer." He took a moment to think. "Red John wasn't as good then as he was now. He was sloppier, still new to his trade. He made mistakes, big enough mistakes that we had a halfway decent lead to follow."

Kirkland's expression darkened. "I was so damn eager to prove to everyone that I was smart, that I could catch this guy. Long story short, I got far too close, and I was punished."

"I don't remember anyone with the last name of Kirkland being a Red John victim," Jane said, but softer this time, like he recognized something in the other man's face.

"Because it was never proven that it was Red John who did it," Kirkland told them, a wry smile twisting his face. "It had none of his hallmarks, no smiley face, the cutting pattern was entirely different. The police wrote it off as a B & E gone wrong. But I knew better." He was very quiet now, lost in his memories. "Six months later, I got an anniversary card in the mail. No signature, just a smiley face."

The story had struck a nerve with Jane; she could tell, and she remembered the card he had gotten last year, the card that had set his horrible plan to go to Vegas in motion.

"So how did you get from that point to this?" she asked, realizing she needed to steer the conversation for a bit.

Kirkland turned back towards her. "The man killed my wife, Agent Lisbon. There was no way I was going to sit around and let him get away with it. But I had enough sense to know it wasn't going to happen with the Burbank police department. So I joined the FBI, but transferred to DHS after it was formed."

She blinked. "There's nothing about your wife in your file," she said, trying to tie up some lose ends.

"Because I made sure there wasn't anything," he answered. "It's not the easiest thing in the world, making information go away, but I imagine it was a quicker process for me than it was for Jane to hide his time in the institution."

"How the hell did you know about that?" Jane asked, abruptly coming back to life.

"I always kept tabs on the Red John case," Kirkland said, "and I paid especially close attention when you got brought into this whole nightmare. Like I said, I had known who you were, knew that you were so damn intelligent it was almost scary, and I thought if anyone had a shot at figuring out who this guy was now, it would be you."

A thoughtful silence descended on her office, and she took a sip of her now-cold coffee just for something to do with her hands. God, like they needed any more to deal with. But if Jane believed Kirkland…well, that was one more person off the list.

"Why are you just showing up now?" she asked. "Why did you wait until Tommy Volker was on my radar to make yourself known?"

Kirkland sighed, looking like he hoped she wasn't going to ask that question. "Because I was investigating the possibility that Volker had a link to Red John. After all, the man clearly has money. It has to come from somewhere."

She swallowed. "And? Does he? Have a link, I mean."

He shrugged. "I wasn't able to determine that fully. You forced him to start covering his tracks like a mad man, killing off witnesses and potential sources of information. That's why I didn't want you involved."

There was a massive headache starting to develop behind her eyes. When Kirkland laid it all out, the odd pieces of his story started to settle into place. It seemed impossible, but he had answered all of their questions with reasonable responses.

"When I realized that Jane was getting close to having a breakthrough," he went on, "I started getting a little more actively involved. That's why DHS ran the search for Lorelei Martins. I hacked her file, created a link to a terrorist group…that's what got us on the investigation."

Finally, an answer to that question.

Kirkland's phone buzzed, and he checked the message impatiently, frowning deeply. "I need to go now," he said, rising suddenly, "but please believe what I've told you. I want Red John dead as much as you do."

He left then, leaving her staring at Jane, bewildered. "What the hell was that?" she asked as soon as the door was closed.

Jane pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "Either he's telling the truth or he's some sort of super sociopath that doesn't tell me anything with his body langue."

She frowned. "So you don't think he's lying."

"Honestly?" He met her eyes. "No."

"Shit," she breathed.

Jane chuckled humorlessly. "This is probably a good thing. Scratch that – this is definitely a good thing. We have another ally." He uncrossed his legs. "I'm not saying we should bring him in on our plan, or even that I remotely trust him, for that matter. I'm just saying that I don't think he's Red John, or that he's working for him."

"Down to four," she muttered. Then, louder, "Jane, what are we going to do when we figure out who Red John actually is? Go haring after him with guns blazing?"

His smile was very enigmatic, and it made her nervous. "Let's just figure out who he is first. I know you'll need proof, so we'll find it."

"And then?" she prompted, realizing too late that she might not want to know the answer to her question.

"Then we'll see," was all he said.

They left not long after that. When she stood, she could feel an ache in her lower back. The stress she had been under was starting to take a physical toll. Distantly, she wondered how long it would be before she collapsed.

And she still wasn't sure if the revelation about Kirkland made her more or less anxious.

She checked into the hotel again, unwilling to face her apartment. Tomorrow, she thought, if she had five minutes to spare, she was going to start looking for new places. Then again, perhaps that was a bad idea. If Red John was watching her browsing history, he would probably just do something to every potential new home she searched out.

Just like the night before, Jane followed her inside without asking. While she was in the shower, he ordered Italian, and they ate halfway decent lasagna as they watched mindless sitcoms, her wet hair trailing down her back.

When the meal was over, he flipped the television off and led her to the bed without saying a word.

It was worlds different than the first time.

Jane took control and she let him, confident now that he wasn't going to try to pull back or do something equally ridiculous. He made love to her in slow degrees until she was nearly sobbing, hips shifting restlessly and urgently.

Only then did he give her what they both desired so much, starbursts exploding behind her eyes, his whispered groans in her ears.

After, she wasn't sure she had the ability to move or speak. He hauled her against his chest, and she laid there limply, perfectly content to never leave the bed again.

Maybe it was just because she was under so much stress, or maybe just because it was Jane, but she had never been as exhausted after sex as she had been the past two nights. Then again, she knew this wasn't just sex.

He had given in, almost all the way. She knew there were parts of himself that he was holding back, waiting for the right time, for when he was free. But she had his trust, was almost sure she had his love, at least in some capacity, and she was certainly the only one who had his body.

It seemed she had much to be thankful for.

Of course, it would be easier to remember to be grateful if she wasn't so scared that this was all going to end.

Jane thought she was Red John's final play, his crowning jewel if they let the game get far enough along. She utterly detested being a pawn, something to be used for Jane's destruction. Her first instinct was to simply start threatening suspects until someone came clean, but she knew that would never work.

Red John hadn't come this far by crumbling under pressure.

No, she needed to think of something more, some sort of a better plan, in case they didn't find what they were looking for at Visualize. If she was to make herself an easy target, put herself in the line of fire, so to speak, would Red John be able to resist?

She didn't know, and the thought of deliberately putting herself in the hands of a serial killer terrified her so much that she nearly choked.

As a cop, she had seen some of the worst crimes humans were capable of committing, and seen them on a daily basis. If she thought about them too long, she would go completely crazy, so she had learned to compartmentalize, to put the violence aside and get on with her life.

It was all different now that it was directed at her though. The old fear, the idea that true monsters walked the earth had started to come back. There were evil people in the world, and one of them was watching her.

She shivered lightly, curling further into Jane's embrace. He ran a sleepy hand through her hair, and she focused on his heartbeat. She needed to think of better things or she would never sleep tonight.

Naturally, her new relationship with Jane came to mind almost immediately. That was definitely something that could distract her.

So was sex the key? Physicality?

God, if she would have had any idea that would have worked, the poor man would have found himself shoved against an elevator wall at least five years ago.

Grinning gently to herself, she drifted off, happy scenarios of a compliant Patrick Jane playing through her mind.