A/N: With thanks to: KB4RC, Guest and Lalalupin for reviewing part eleven.

x tromana

Part Twelve

"Teresa."

"Mhm?"

"Teresa, we have to get moving. You have to wake up."

For a second, she had forgotten where she was and wondered who the hell was staring down at her. Instinctively, she moved into a defensive mode until the memories of the past twenty-four hours flooded back to the forefront of her mind. It was just Danny Ruskin, Jane's deceased wife's brother. He was helping her out, trying to find Red John. He was delivering her to Visualize, the cult ran by Brett Stiles, where Red John was allegedly hiding. Or at least, that was what Danny had claimed. And Jane had believed him. Grumbling incoherently, she stared at the neon lights of the alarm clock. Four fifty-seven am stared back at her and she scowled. She had been asleep for a maximum of two hours. The pounding in her temples and every ache in her body could feel the sleep deprivation.

Regardless, she tentatively swung her legs out of the bed and slowly began to stretch each muscle group in turn. It helped to wake her up a little, but it didn't mean that the feeling would last. Lisbon was relieved that she knew how to operate on little to no sleep, but that didn't mean it wasn't going to be difficult. It especially didn't help that she had no idea what the day's plans involved. Or even how soon he was intending to take her back to Sacramento; in her mind, heading back there so soon seemed a little too risky. Surely it was better to let the heat die down again first? But then, she was used to doing the chasing. For now, the hunter had become the hunted.

And though she hadn't seen any signs either way, she already knew that more than one group of people was after her.

"I'll give you ten minutes to get ready," he said, nodding at the decrepit ensuite bathroom. "Then we have to go."

Still, she cast the fears of being hunted down aside for now. Instead, she shed her clothes as quickly as possible and dove underneath the ice cold spray of the shower. Lisbon didn't complain; it was a waste of time and energy. Instead, she bathed as swiftly as possible and got changed once again. She didn't have time to dry her hair and it was only a minor irritation. The urgency in Danny's voice had been obvious and she knew he wanted to leave almost immediately.

When she exited, she found that he had switched on the television. One of the twenty-four hour news channels was showing. Her heart felt like it simultaneously stopped and sped up when her own (outdated) image flashed up on the screen. The news reader insisted that she was 'armed and highly dangerous and should not be approached at all costs'. They weren't lying about the fact she was armed, but she couldn't help but think that 'highly dangerous' was an exaggeration. Still, this was proof positive that they had to leave this instant.

Danny apologized profusely once they were back in the truck and on the road. Before he started driving, he'd handed her a bag of donuts, something which she ate with much less decorum than she would ordinarily have liked. The further away they got from the motel, the safer she began to feel once again. Though, Lisbon didn't know if she would ever feel truly safe once again. Even so, the roads seemed to stretch on endlessly and she found the exhaustion was beginning to seep back into her bones. She was beginning to find it increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open.

"Hello, Teresa."

The voice was unfamiliar, but recognizable at the same time. It made her blood run cold but she couldn't help but be intrigued. She cocked her head slightly and took a step forwards. At all times, she made sure her hands were free, just in case she needed to arm herself at any given moment.

"I think you'll find I have your gun."

He held it out to her and then threw it away, over his shoulder. It was completely unreachable. She swore at him, demanded to know how he did it. This was the kind of parlor trick that Jane pulled on her, but she knew this wasn't him. The voice almost sounded… deadly. She shook her head; it couldn't be him. It couldn't be Red John. She knew that Jane had met him, had shook his hand even, but that didn't necessarily mean that she had. Just as she had stepped towards him in intrigue, she now took a step back, keen to make a hasty retreat.

"You think you can run, Teresa. But you can't hide."

She turned and saw a wooden door. Automatically, she bolted towards it, but the door was locked. In frustration, she shook the doorknob, swore several times and planned to kick it down. A dark foreboding laughter filled the room. Once again, she turned on her heels to face him and shot him a dirty glare for good measure.

He was now armed.

The silver blade glinted in the sunlight.

Lisbon swallowed. She knew what he had planned for her; she had always known. From the moment she had taken on the Red John case, she had run the risk of this happening. Building a friendship with Patrick Jane had only exacerbated the risk. She turned again and jostled the doorknob once more. It just had to come loose; it was her only chance for freedom, to escape.

Unless she…

She started to edge around the perimeter of the room. If she could just get to her gun, then she could shoot the bastard to death. Then, she would have all the time in the world to consider her escape route. Carefully, she took her path around. She was nearly at the gun when she heard Jane calling out, pleading for her.

"Lisbon!"

Naturally, she turned to face the direction she swore he was calling from. That ended up being a fatal error because she suddenly felt a strong forearm pressing against her abdomen and the man's hot breath breathing down her ear. She kicked and struggled, attempting to set herself free, but it was all in vain. Eventually she could feel the cold blade pressing against her exposed neck and she swallowed deeply.

"I've been waiting a long time for this Teresa," he hissed moments before the blade cut deep into her flesh.

She woke with a jerk at the sound of the cellphone that Jane had given her buzzing. Bleary eyed, she checked it to see she had received a text message from the man himself. They have searched your home, he'd said. They found a necklace I gave Charlotte on her fifth birthday in your safe. She told him she hadn't put it there, asked him if he believed her. He said yes; he could see that it had been tampered with recently. Still, she couldn't help but wonder whether or not he was lying just to protect her feelings. Naturally, she hoped she wouldn't, but the situation that Lisbon had found herself in couldn't help but let the doubts creep into her mind. She felt like she couldn't trust anything at the moment.

Danny remained wordless, oblivious to her sudden awakening and discomfort at the messages she had received and sent in response. The scenery was beginning to change from endless open spaces to a more suburban area. It was already getting late and the sun was setting again. They must have spent at least twelve hours traveling and she could really feel it in her back. Logically, she knew that Danny must have stopped to get some gas and supplies, but he hadn't bothered to wake her. In a way, she wished he had. The nightmares she'd been forced to endure had meant the sleep was less than restful.

"Why are we stopping here?"

Lisbon wasn't complaining about stopping; she was glad for an opportunity to stretch her legs. However, they were in an unrecognizable place. This was definitely not the Visualize headquarters.

"I got the impression you didn't entirely believe what I told you about Visualize."

"I did," she protested.

"Liar," he replied and smirked. "Patrick told me you were a hopeless liar, but I didn't believe you could be that bad. Good luck when you get in with Visualize; you'll need it."

"You haven't answered my question," she said peevishly.

"A friend of mine, he was investigating Visualize too, for different reasons. He heard the same things as me. He'll confirm that I'm telling the truth."

"I hope so."

Before they even got more than three feet from the truck, they were subject to a stray bullet. Lisbon's hand immediately found the holster and she popped it open. Briefly, she turned to face Danny and his eyes were wild with panic.

"I'm sorry, Teresa. I can't do this, I can't risk being arrested!"

"Danny!"

Her shouting was in vain and she would never get to meet this friend of his who had also been a member of Visualize. Danny had climbed back into the truck and sped off before she'd even had a chance to try and help him see sense. It wasn't the police; she'd know if it was. That was exactly where she'd spent a lifetime, honing her skills and fighting injustice. Besides, cops always warned first, and then opened fire. No, their attackers were somebody else. She couldn't blame him for taking flight; this was a dangerous situation for them both to be in. The bullet that had hit the car before he'd panicked said it all. Nobody in their right mind liked being in a shoot-out, not even a cop who was wearing appropriate defensive attire. And then, Lisbon remembered where she was and what was happening. She didn't have a Kevlar vest on. All she had was her overnight bag in one hand and her gun in its holster on her right hip. Immediately, she jumped over a small brick wall in order to offer her at least some shelter. It was in good time too, for a bullet came whistling just over her head. That was a little too close for comfort.

Instinctively she withdrew her gun from its holster and her expression hardened. This was another law she was willfully breaking; using a firearm, presumably, without license. And it was on the outskirts of a city, no less. She was grateful that it was late at night; the skies were dark and every sensible person was tucked up in bed. Lisbon didn't want any innocents to lose a life because of what was happening; she wouldn't have been able to live with that on her conscience. It was bad enough that she had spent the past forty hours or so fighting against her every natural instinct already. To add anything else as troubling as that would have made her inconsolable.

They continued firing shots at her and eventually, she found herself battling down her instincts and returning fire. She frowned when she missed, and knew that it was probably because she was running on empty. Equally, she knew it was probably for the best that she didn't shoot to kill; that would cause even more complications. Even so, once she had emptied the round, she knew she had to stop and reload. This was a defensive move, she reminded herself. She wasn't shooting to kill, she never did. She was merely shooting in order to ensure that she got out of this situation unscathed. For a second her fingers fumbled with the zipper of the bag and it took her a few minutes to be able to grab hold of what she needed.

But the ammo tin slipped from her fingers the moment she managed to grab hold of it and Lisbon cursed at her bad fortune. She flailed briefly to try to reach for the thing but could only watch as it rolled away into the clutches of her adversaries. Her gun, her faithful Glock, was now entirely useless without ammunition. There was no way she could defend herself now. Briefly, she glanced behind her. A flight of stairs led to the underside of the bridge which would offer her cover from the people around her. Instinctively, she ran and was surprised at just how difficult she found it to summon up the energy to do so. Lisbon prided herself with keeping her body in peak physical fitness, but just a couple of days of neglect had undone years of hard work. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten properly or had a decent night's sleep. Since they had discovered Agent Douglas' mom dead, the ability to do those two things had simply eluded her. And now, she was paying the price for it.

She paused under the bridge, taking a moment just to catch her breath and decide what the next best action to take was. These people weren't cops, but she couldn't be sure that they were from Visualize, either. They relied on subterfuge, not going out all guns blazing. She knew that. Why the change in M.O., just like Red John had changed…

Red John.

Danny said that Red John was a member of Visualize. He worked somewhere high up in the cult and – as Lisbon extrapolated – Brett Stiles himself could even have been deeply embroiled in the Red John saga. Of course they would be after her, just like the authorities were. They wanted her as much as the police did. And she had a shrinking suspicion that they wouldn't mind if she came to them dead or alive. Alive, in her honest opinion, was probably the better option. After all, this sorry scenario had probably been orchestrated just to impress her. To show how powerful the cult was, and how she could find a way to slot in, if that was what she chose.

And if it wasn't what she chose, then she knew what the alternative was.

Lisbon was sick and tired of running already. She was sick of feeling guilt-ridden for something that she wasn't even responsible for. None of this was her plan; somebody else had taken her destiny into their hands and started toying with it, like a cat with a mouse. Red John and Visualize had decided that she was to be framed as one of Red John's acolytes in order to hurt Patrick Jane. She knew that; she had been distinctly aware of the possibility from the moment her badge had been found underneath Rigsby and Sarah's bed.

They wanted her, she wanted them.

What was the point in dragging out the inevitable? From the moment that Jane had whisked her away to that desolate cabin, she had said she wanted this over and done with as soon as feasibly possible. It looked like, for once, she had actually gotten her wish. In reality, Lisbon wished she had a little more time, to gather together her feelings and actually sort out what she was going to do next.

But no; this was right. She needed to do this; it was now, or never.

And she certainly didn't want to spend her whole life on the run.

Instead, she was going to walk into the dragon's den with her head held high. And then, she was going to bring Red John down. Because that was the kind of thing she did.