Behind the Red Mask
Author's note: This is my first attempt at a serialised fanfiction and I'd like to thank you for reading and leaving comments as it is very motivating! For those of you who were a little shocked at the direction taken in the last chapter, let me reassure you that there is a plan…
The grey light coming through the attic window hinted to Jane that it would rain before the day was through. Even thought he was staring solemnly into space as usual, his empty tea cup poised reassuringly on the desk in front of him, Jane felt restless.
He knew he needed Lisbon's help for part of his plan, a plan he knew very well she wouldn't approve of. But he also knew that the best way to handle Lisbon in situations like these was to present a complete, precise plan before he demanded anything crazy of her. It was a kind of misdirection, making her focus on whether or not details of the plan would work, rather than whether or not they ought to go through with the scheme in the first place.
He had printed paper copies of all the documents from Rigsby's USB, which now sat on top of the stack to his right. He no longer needed the papers, as he had committed everything on them to memory, especially Partridge's forensic reports. As one would expect, he was very good at his job. Partridge may have thought the macabre lab geek he was pretending to be was just an act, but Jane knew better. After meeting him, and reading the reports, Jane felt he was finally getting under Partridge's skin.
He was meticulous, intelligent, controlling. He had been an effeminate and powerless only child, bullied at school, Jane guessed, probably with a domineering mother and absent father. This made him sneaky, manipulative, and savagely cruel whenever he was able to snatch a moment of power over others. He enjoyed mind games and loved power and attention; this attracted him to killing more than the violence itself. He had no problem with the violence though; he intellectualised it as an expression of his will, and was able to see it very clinically, as an art form.
In fact, he may well have worked in morgues before, or studied medicine or anatomy. Jane was going to have to study the way he cut his victims very precisely so he was able to imitate him. Partridge would be able to see any hesitation in his cuts. And as frustrated as Partridge was by cheap imitations of his "work", Jane knew the only thing that would enrage him more was a forgery that was a little too talented.
Jane swallowed, thinking about the grisly things he was going to have to do in order to finally catch Red John. He could no longer pretend it was just a part he was playing. Red John was Partridge as much as he was Roy Tagliaferro or any other identity he had worn. And once Jane pulled this last stunt, he would become, to some extent, the kind of monster Red John was hoping for.
He picked up the USB. He had been avoiding giving it back to Rigsby because he was ashamed of taking it in the first place. As he headed for the stairs, he put it in his pocket. Given that he was heading somewhere far more uncomfortable today, he could leave the USB on Rigsby's desk on the way there…