Jane's testimmooonnnyyyyy :D. I have no more to say.
There was no choice really. Jane began to tell the story.
"It was a Red John case. A woman dead, with the smiley face on the wall. At first I expected that it was a copycat, but as soon as we got to the crime scene... it just felt like him, and I knew. So I started pursuing every lead I could find."
The use of "I" didn't go unnoticed by Lisbon, and neither was it wrong. She remembered Jane going off on his own, and how worried she'd been. But there was nothing she could do to stop him, there never had been when it came to Red John. She tried, because she never would have forgiven herself if she hadn't.
She trapped him in the elevator – it was the only place she was able to get a hold of him all day. He looked like he wasn't going to let her speak, so she began before he could stop her.
"Don't do this on your own."
He just shook his head. "Lisbon, come on. You'd just try and stop me."
"I'd protect you," she said honestly. "And then I'd stop you."
"I don't need protection."
She snorted at his stupidity. "Red John isn't like everyone else, Jane, you don't have him wrapped around your little finger. He thinks outside of your box, you can't predict what he's going to do."
"I'm a lot better at it than I used to be."
"Jane, don't shut me out."
He fixed her with a long look. "I'm going to go check out a lead. Would you like to join me?"
Lisbon paused, trying to quell the euphoria of having gotten through to him in some way. Eventually all she said was,
"I'm driving."
"Lisbon cornered me to ask me not to go after him alone," was how Jane phrased it "So I let her in on a lead I'd found, the victim went to a regular exercise class and had been asked out by a guy from there. She rejected him, he started stalking her. When he reached breaking point and attacked her, a stranger pulled him off her, scared him off, and gave her a lift home. That stranger was Josh Sylvester, I saw his business card, printed in red ink, in her house. When I came across him again, I decided to check it out. Lisbon and I drove to the address on his card and parked in an underground garage."
"There's something a bit freaky about these places," Lisbon commented.
"Now Lisbon, it's not like you to have an irrational fear of a place based purely on pop culture," he had teased lightly – she was just relieved at how normal he seemed.
"It's not pop culture," she protested. "It's the silence, and all the pillars and dark corners to hide in."
"Don't worry, I'll look after you."
"Oh yeah, that's likely."
It was just then, as they walked past, yes, a pillar, Lisbon felt the presence behind her and the cloth over her mouth. She lashed out, grabbing for her gun, but by the time she'd pulled it out the holster, the chloroform had kicked in and it fell uselessly out of her limp hand.
"The next thing I knew, I woke up the warehouse," said Jane.
He took a deep, rattling breath, and his hand fluttered up as though he wanted to press it to the wound on his chest, but was too proud to admit the pain in public. Lisbon wondered if she was the only person who had picked up so much from that movement, or if it was obvious to everyone in the room.
"I saw Lisbon, she was already awake. The first thing she said was "we'll get out of this". The next was "stop feeling guilty, you idiot". I'd already been thinking there was a reason I left her out of my investigation."
By now Lisbon and Jane were just staring at each other across the courtroom – both of them were recalling the following few hours of terror that they'd been through.
"I'm sorry," he'd said anyway, and he'd said it more than once. Nothing she could say would convince him he had no reason to be – it was really annoying, and she'd told him that more than once too. They were alone in the dimly lit room for what seemed like forever. They discussed a few escape ideas, but theythey were tied tightly to the chairs. Infuriatingly, all her stuff was still in her pockets, but she couldn't reach any of it. Aside from that, and the ceaseless apologies, it didn't seem like there was much to say. And then Red John had shown up.
"Mr Sylvester," Jane had greeted him.
The serial killer only laughed. "So we really have come to the end of our little game, Mr Jane. I confess I was getting a little bored, you took your time."
Jane flinched.
"You know, because I'm a mature sort of guy and I can admit my mistakes, I'm going to let you two in on a secret. I didn't actually mean to end it this early, I was just going to take your girlfriend to start, but you went in her car. I realised you must have shared your information with her – not something I'd expect of you, by the way, to put her in danger that way – and so I took you both, because now I'm going to have to kill you."
He made it sound as though he didn't want to.
Lisbon noticed that Jane omitted the fact Red John had called her his girlfriend, and she was just fine with that. He went on to tell about how as soon as Sylvester had untied him (it apparently felt crass to kill Jane while he was tied to a chair, "after all, you are the closest thing to an equal I've had"), Jane had stumbled over to Lisbon, supposedly in a peak of emotion, gibbering apologies and half ended bits of advice as he slipped her a razor blade, winking up at her in the way that only Jane could in such a situation. He put it on the side of her seat, and while Jane and Red John said whatever it was that they said to each other, she stretched up her fingers, just managing to grasp it between two of them. There was an awful moment where it nearly slipped to the floor and she just managed to catch it, cutting her hand. Then she began to cut through the ropes.
"As Lisbon freed herself, he caught on and drew his gun. He was pointing it at us, and said a few final words – I don't even know what they were, I was trying to think of a way out. And then I," he stalled.
This was the moment of truth, of course. The sentence should have been, and then I grabbed Lisbon's gun. That's what it would be if he told the truth. They stared at each other.
"I felt Lisbon draw her gun beside me and they both started to shoot. That's the last thing I remember before waking up in hospital."
"No further questions, Your Honour," said Rose.
And now Allan stood up to cross examine him. This was the bit Lisbon was really dreading.
"Why did you have a razor blade, Mr Jane?"
"I'd rather kill myself than let that bastard do it," was Jane's steady reply.
"You have spent some time being treated in a mental facility, correct?"
"Correct."
"Can you tell me what that was for?"
"That's confidential information, Mr Allan." Jane said. "But I expect you can guess, it doesn't take, well, me, to work it out."
Allan smirked. "You have some ego, Mr Jane. And on top of this, you are a compulsive liar, is that correct?"
"I prefer to say I have a loose relationship with the truth."
"So you are admitting, in a court of law, to being a liar?"
"I thought I'd save you the trouble of proving it to the court by calling up all the people I've lied to, up to and including the woman you're prosecuting, by the way. I was a TV 'psychic', of course I'm a liar."
"And for what reasons do you lie?"
"Once upon a time, to make money. Now, to catch murderers in whatever way is easiest."
"What about to protect loved ones?"
"I see the many routes you could take this line of questioning, and I think I'll decline to answer," was Jane's candid reply.
"Why?"
"Because I don't like any of them."
"Would you lie to protect your loved ones, Mr Jane?"
"Loved ones is a very ambiguous term, Mr Allan. Most of my loved ones are dead."
"And I'm very sorry about that, but I think you know what I'm asking."
"Why don't we assume I don't, and you could just ask it."
"One final question – do you love Agent Lisbon?"
Jane paused. He'd been pushing Allan to ask, but that was out of sheer annoyance at the man, and he hadn't considered the answer. It wouldn't help the case if he said yes anyway, and it wasn't like he was about to go admitting that to a roomful of people, especially a room with Lisbon in it.
"I love my wife," he replied steadily.
The half truth felt bitter on his tongue, and he couldn't bear to meet Lisbon's eye. She wouldn't look at him either, staring at the table in front of her and wishing she could feel happy that he'd supported her instead of just a pit of god knows what emotion at what he'd just said.
Lisbon's coming up! Though there might be a filler chapter in between, I mean, there's some aftermath to write here.
