A/N: ...at least this one ended up being posted quicker than my previous Big Bang. Thanks, Aeidhryn for reviewing and reminding me to post the final chapter. Thanks also to Miss Peg, without whom I wouldn't have written this fic.

x tromana

Part Twenty One

Bristol, UK, Thursday, 12.21am GMT

She'd tried to look at the note lying between Rich and Alo immediately. Grace wanted, needed, to know exactly what it said. She was desperate for any kind of explanation for what she had just discovered. Needed something just to try and make sense of it all. However, Nick had immediately stopped her. He had said something about disturbing the evidence or crap like that. Of course, he was right. The last thing that they wanted to do was compromise whatever the police found. Just because it looked like a suicide pact, it didn't mean it actually was.

However, when she finally found out what that damn note had said, she'd wished that she hadn't known. The fact that Alo and Rich had supposedly 'accidentally' killed Liv was just impossible to comprehend. Why the fuck would they do something like that? What had driven them to messing around with dangerous weapons? Why did it have to drive them to suicide? Rich had acted a little oddly after Liv's death, but Alo had been almost like his normal self and she had simply accepted that he was grieving like the rest of them were. It seemed like there were no forewarnings whatsoever that something like this was about to happen imminently. Really, it all felt like some kind of sick scene from a crime show. One where they find the dead bodies of innocent teenagers and it looks like a suicide, but eventually some genius works out that it's not. Except it wasn't something on the television, or in a play, or in a film. It was real life. And from where she was standing, it looked very much like Rich and Alo had taken their own lives. Even if they hadn't, there wasn't some miracle man hiding in the shadows to unravel the web of lies. Said web of lies probably didn't even exist; it was simply her clutching at straws, unable to comprehend her deceased boyfriend's guilt.

Grace pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and stared up at the night sky. The stars twinkled back at her as Nick sat down beside her. He smiled slightly and wrapped an arm around her. Tentatively, she leaned her head on his shoulder, more willing to accept the gesture of comfort than she had been earlier. She needed him now; all the hopes she'd once had had just been brutally destroyed in the blink of an eye.

"How did all this happen?" she asked.

"Dunno. It seems… wrong," Nick answered, unaware that the question had been entirely rhetorical.

Seconds later, a gurney was wheeled out. On top of it was a body bag. She didn't know if it was Rich or Alo and quite frankly, Grace didn't care. All she wanted was to rewind time, to go back to when everything was easy. When it hadn't been fucked up by something as stupid as death. When her friends were alive and she felt like there was some kind of point to life. Sooner or later, she knew she would feel better about it all. Or at least, it would stop feeling quite so painful to address. However, that didn't make the present any easier to deal with. And the forthcoming days were only going to get even harder.

"What are you looking at?"

Nick glared at a short man with glasses, who appeared to be looking at them. There were moments when people just wanted to be left alone and this was most certainly one of them. They both knew that the police hadn't finished asking questions, that this was just a quiet reprieve from the insanity. Come morning, they would be expected to return to the station to ask a load more. He dreaded to imagine what exactly they would have to answer, but he hoped that there wouldn't be anything too incriminating. Grace didn't deserve that. She had lost one of her best friends and her boyfriend in such a short period of time. It was little wonder that she had reacted the way she had. People had been known to completely lose it over far less.

"I'm sorry," he answered, with a slight American accent. "Could you tell me where the rail station is?"

Balked, Nick quickly answered him. Grace remained beside him, still shivering. He wasn't entirely sure whether or not it was because of the cold or if she had gone into a state of shock. Whichever, it didn't matter. Though he didn't know Grace all that well, Nick was determined to make sure that she got through this okay. She was a sweet girl and deserved that. After all, they were all hurting. Or at least, would be, once the news had spread.

"What happened here?" the man asked, intrigued, as the second body bag was removed from the warehouse.

"None of your fucking business, that's what," Nick snapped in response.

The man simply shrugged in response and hauled his backpack back onto his shoulders. Neither of them knew who he was, nor did they care. If they had realised that it was Red John, making sure that his plan had worked to perfection, then maybe they would have felt a little differently.

Sacramento, CA, USA, Wednesday, 07.32pm PST

Lisbon was relieved. Of course she was. Firstly, Cho had managed to neatly close the Hayes case, receive a commendation for his efforts and talk Amalia Ford out of suing Jane for all he was worth in the process. Van Pelt was going to be fine, after forty eight hours leave to convalesce from her head injury. And then, there was her debacle. It amazed her that things had come together at all; that the Malone case had somehow been closed. If those kids hadn't gone wandering into the warehouse, then who knew how long the bodies of those responsible would have stayed there, slowly decaying? What if the Avon and Somerset Constabulary hadn't finally had a witness come forward? They would have lost the case to the FBI, despite the fact it was blindingly obvious that Red John had no involvement whatsoever. But they would have had to sacrifice it, simply to look like they were doing something to try and catch the criminal mastermind. And Jane, he would have gone completely off the rails. Lisbon wasn't quite sure how she would have managed to deal with that. Controlling Patrick Jane was a trial at the best of times, without any additional stresses. Especially so whenever there was a threat to the Red John case. He was unsurprisingly possessive of it, more so than she was, and for good reason.

Still, at least it hadn't come to that. And now, they knew the full story, or as much as they were ever going to know. How the three kids had played a game of Russian Roulette, just for fun. That they hadn't realised that the gun was loaded. That Richard Hardbeck had written a confession note, in accordance to the suicide pact. Aloysius Creevey had been the one to fire the shots that ended not only Olivia's life, but his and Richard's too. It was depressing, even more so than the majority of their cases. All they had been after was a cheap thrill and instead, it had ended with the loss of three young lives.

"So, that's it then?" Jane stated.

"Yes," Lisbon answered, knowing full well the question had been rhetorical. "But at least we still have the case, right? That the English case was proven to be a copycat killer. And just in time too…"

"Too many people died though," he mused.

Automatically, he grabbed one of her stress relievers and threw it at her chessboard. The pieces flew everywhere, but Jane needed the release. He was relieved that Red John hadn't gone international, the very thought that he could had horrified him. But still, hearing about teenagers killing each other was something that unsettled him. It went beyond the hazards of the job description; it was simply horrifying. And to make matters worse, there was nothing that could have been done to prevent it, even if he had been in the same country as them. Jane understood what it was like to be consumed by grief and rage, to the extent of feeling suicidal. If somebody really wanted to take their own life, there was little that could be done to stop it.

"Jane!"

"What?"

"Do you really think that kind of behaviour is appropriate for the workplace?"

"I don't know. Isn't it?" he asked, with the sole intention of winding her up.

"You know it isn't and should know better," Lisbon responded, before adding, "though sometimes, I do wonder…"

After letting her sentence die in the air, she shook her head and stalked out of her office. Neither of them wanted to discuss the case any further and they both needed to shake it out of their system in their own way. After all, they had worked with one another for far too long to even briefly think otherwise. Jane smirked and laid back down on her couch, easing himself into the soft material. Investing in the new piece of furniture had certainly been a wise decision. Lisbon seemed simply relieved that Red John hadn't become an international mastermind criminal. That the case was still theirs. Then again, she was still convinced that he, Patrick Jane, would eventually hand Red John over to CBI custody willingly. Sometimes she was terribly naïve for one so cynical.

This case was still troubling him, though. Something about it didn't quite add up. If Aloysius had been the one to shoot Olivia Malone, why had Rich been driven to suicide too? He had too much to live for and his young girlfriend had been obviously besotted with him. So, why would an innocent boy happily write a confession like that before allowing his best friend to shoot him in the forehead? Had it been his idea to play Russian Roulette? What about the Red John connotations, had that been Rich's planning in order to try and get Alo out of the murder charge? Had Red John found out about the supposed copycat and decided to take matters into his own hands, as he had done so before?

Jane shook his head. Sometimes, it was for the best that even he didn't stir things up. If he did, then the CBI would definitely lose jurisdiction over Red John and Lisbon would start getting all worried about him. She was very exhausting whenever she ended up like that, even if she did have his best interests at heart.

Maybe next time he saw Red John, he could ask him? Because it was going to happen, sooner or later. He was sure of it. And when it did, the bastard was going to be sorry that he ever lived. Then die a slow, painful death, just the way his wife and child did.

In the mean time, those poor kids had simply been added to the long list of people that Patrick Jane wished to avenge.

Bristol, UK, Thursday, 11.21am GMT

Mini, Franky and Matty were told the news of Alo's and Rich's deaths in almost the same manner as they had found out about Liv's. However, instead of Professor Blood barging into the common room, it had been a classroom. And instead of being told they were going to be interrogated about their connections, they were informed it was a suicide. They were offered time off college, counselling, crap like that. Not that any of it made a difference at that moment in time. How would it? It didn't bring Liv, Alo and Rich back. Didn't change the fact that the gang had been decimated, figuratively speaking. Nor did it prevent the immense feeling of loss that each of them felt, one way or another.

Naturally, they took the time off. Not just because they were teenagers and would willingly accept days where they were free to do nothing, but because they genuinely needed it. Dealing with Liv's death alone was one thing; having another two stacked on top of it was another altogether. Franky was surprised that Blood had been so generous; he wasn't famed for being sensitive about his students' feelings. Even his daughter hadn't been able to get away with very much at all in the past. He was all about the college's ratings, to hell with how the young people he dealt with actually felt. Then again, even he couldn't ignore these repercussions, especially with them coming so close to home for him. Literally.

They hadn't seen Grace, not yet. Franky dreaded to imagine just how she would be dealing with this. Mini was struggling to comprehend the losses; Franky could read her like an open book. Then again, she needed her friends more than ever and for two to die so senselessly and so close to one another, it was hardly surprising she was shell-shocked. Realistically, she suspected they all were. It was just that she was able to deal with the feelings better. However, her life had been a train wreck, so Franky was used to people letting her down one way or another. It was something she expected and therefore, this was nothing new to her.

In a way, she knew they should be grateful that Rich, Alo and Liv hadn't dragged them into their sordid games. Alo should have known better than to point a gun at anyone, loaded or otherwise. If it had been all of them playing the game, the magnitude of the fallout could have been far greater. Equally, it could have been so much less too. If all of them had been present, it would have been inevitable that one of them would have told the police the truth. Grace, probably. Then, one of them would have been imprisoned and the rest of them would have been free to live the rest of their lives.

They convened at the Fishpond Tavern. It was always their first port of call if they needed to talk. For some reason, the dingy pub managed to be the suitable venue for celebrations, mourning and everything in between. As Matty lead Mini to a seat, Franky ordered their drinks. It felt strange; like three drinks were missing off of their regular order. It was something that she would have to get used to, sooner or later. It wasn't as if this was just a fractured friendship or a couple breaking up. It was so much more permanent than that. They would never hear a snide remark from Rich, or a daft comment from Alo again. Nor would they hear Liv's dulcet tones; something none of them had really had a chance to comprehend before this latest blow.

When Grace arrived, guided by Nick, she looked just as shocked as Franky imagined. Wordlessly, she handed them both drinks and both nodded in gratitude. Now was not the time to talk, that would come later. Instead, they just wanted to sit in silence and grieve. They had the answers they had craved for with regards to Liv's death, but they had been the worst explanations possible. Even if she had been randomly hacked to death by a stranger, it would have been easier for them to deal with. Instead, they had to come to terms with the lies and deception on top of the deaths. That was something that would be easier said than done.

However, they would get over it, eventually. They had to. There was no shame in feeling sad, angry and in grieving. It was a natural part of the process, it was only human to feel in such a way. It would take time for those feelings to pass, for them to accept them and be able to move on.

That was all that would be needed.

Time.

end