Here's another longer than usual chapter, because I'll be away for the weekend and won't be able to update until maybe Tuesday next week.
Warning: This one's a bit angsty as the plot thickens.
She took her jacket, wallet, his phone, and his car keys, which also lay on her desk. At least he couldn't have gone far without his car. That made her remember that her own vehicle was still parked in front of the Fir Tree. She needed to get it back as soon as possible. Maybe they could combine the necessary with the pleasant and fetch it on their way to breakfast?
First things first though, she thought, while making her way up to the attic once more. She had to find him before she could apologize and treat him to some eggs and tea. Fortunately he was up there sitting at his makeshift desk. She would have hated to search the whole building for him.
"Here you are. What are you doing?" she asked from the door.
"Might surprise you, but I'm working," he answered acidly without looking up from whatever he was doing.
She walked over to him and was eerily reminded of a very similar scene from earlier this morning. Even the reason she was about to apologize for was nearly identical, which wouldn't make the situation any easier, because he had every right to doubt her sincerity: just six hours ago she'd told him that she didn't mean it when she'd called him lazy just to accuse him practically of the same thing again. And the truth was, that she really and honestly never thought of him as lazy. He didn't work in the way regular people did, but she was sure that if one took the time and followed him around to count the hours he worked, they would at least rival hers. Grace was right. He spent a lot of his sleepless nights going over files and sorting through clues. He almost always took several folders home with him so he could occupy himself during the night.
She stopped right behind him and put her arms around his chest. It was a bit awkward, because the backrest of his chair got in the way, but she wanted to hold him somehow, and this seemed like the only viable solution right now.
"What are you doing, Lisbon?" he asked, obviously caught by surprise. "You're making it very difficult for me to continue."
She bent forward and pecked his cheek. "You're not supposed to either, Patrick."
He removed her arms and engrossed himself in his work again.
"Are you gonna ignore me?" she inquired, astonished by his behavior, even slightly hurt that he'd pushed her away like that.
"If this is some kind of test or trap or something – I'm not gonna fall for it, Lisbon," he replied moodily.
She was really taken aback now. "What do you mean, a test or trap? I don't understand."
He sighed heavily. "Don't play dumb, Lisbon. You want to lure me away from my work, so you can accuse me of neglecting my duties afterwards. Very clever, but you won't succeed."
She stared at him with open-mouthed shock, which he didn't see, because he was diligently scribbling in a notebook. "You don't honestly think I would do something like that, Patrick? That… It would be beyond mean. How can you, I mean, I would never…
"Of course you wouldn't," he said turning around with his chair and looking up at her astonished face with a gleeful smirk, that looked slightly deranged to her. "Gotcha!"
"You miserable jerk! You played me!"
He grinned deviously. "Now, Lisbon, really. Calling me names? And here I thought you'd actually come to me with the intention to apologize, maybe even offer reparations like buying me breakfast." He watched her wince a little. "Ah, yes. Breakfast it was. What a lovely idea. Well, I would be delighted to have breakfast with you." His smile didn't reach his eyes and the words seemed forced.
She shook her head in irritation. "You really are the most insufferable, annoying person I have the misfortune of knowing, Jane. I don't know why I put up with you, honestly. And to think that I actually felt bad about accusing you of being lazy! I don't know why I even bother." She poked his chest with her index finger. "I should have figured that your ego is at least three sizes too big for it to feel any indignation at being falsely accused."
He snorted, caught her wayward finger, before it could poke him again and brought her hand up to his lips, but at the last moment he stopped himself from kissing it and released it as if it was poison. "Nah, Lisbon. You got it all wrong. It's not about my ego, which is only in proportion with my overall brilliance by the way." He flashed her another false grin that alarmed her. "No. The issue at hand is that you can't accuse me of working too little. You know the details of my contract. Not a word about working hours in it. So, no basis for you to accuse me of anything, even if I only rendered my services for - say – a measly hour each month. Nice loophole, right?" He snickered without humor at her perplexed face, though he didn't know that her confusion wasn't caused by his words but rather by his weird behavior. "Well, one hour would be appropriate, I think, considering the compensation I get. It would be round about the fee I asked for in my former occupation."
"You used to take over $1000 for an hour?" was the only thing she managed to get out, hoping to make him divulge what had gotten into him.
"What can I say? Phone calls to the other side are notoriously expensive," he joked with a glint in his eyes that was certainly not caused by amusement.
Her astonishment grew another notch. Normally he didn't make fun of his disreputable past like that, at least not in her company. He felt too much shame about the fact that he'd conned gullible people out of their money. He was obviously trying to shock or irritate her into leaving. It only increased her resolve to stay however…
"Now what about breakfast, Lisbon? You're buying, I hope. I only work one hour a month after all. Not enough to get by on, as you just recently pointed out to me." He sneered.
This confirmed her suspicions. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. "Patrick, what the hell are you playing at? Are you trying to poleax me or something? You're not normally so callous about this." She eyed him warily.
He shrugged. "Okay, so no breakfast. No problem." He turned his chair around again and bent down over his whatever-kind-of-work and ignored her presence.
Now she got really worried. His behavior was completely absurd and didn't make the slightest sense to her. She hunkered down beside his chair and tried to catch his eyes. One of her hands settled on his thigh and started to caress him. "Patrick, please! What's the matter with you? You're not acting like yourself," she asked imploringly. "I don't understand your behavior right now."
He hadn't called her Teresa a single time since she'd arrived, only Lisbon. He'd pushed her away and had acted more than weird. What had happened?
"I suggest, you get back to work, Agent Lisbon. Those lovely forms on your desk won't file themselves. And as you can see, I'm quite busy. So, if you would excuse me?" He shoved her hand away from his leg.
Wrong move! Now she was getting really angry and desperate in her disquiet. She grabbed his chair and swung it around forcefully, so he had to face her. "Stop this rubbish at once, Jane, or I swear, I'll kick your ass! What's wrong with you? Talk!"
He just shrugged again and made to turn away, but not before she'd seen a glint of fear in his eyes. She didn't know whether it was aimed at her or at whatever had gotten into him, but she'd seen it. Just like she had assumed: he was not cool and collected or willfully derisive. Something was wrong here, very wrong.
"Well, if you won't talk, you don't leave my with any other choice." With that, she tackled him out of his chair and onto the floor, rolled him to his stomach and had him in handcuffs only seconds later. Everything happened so fast, he barely realized what she'd done until she ordered him to get up and move over to his cot.
"Leave me alone, Lisbon, please!" he cried out. "Don't do this. This is a terrible mistake, please. Let me go and just leave, please," he begged sitting on the edge of his improvised bed with terror in his eyes, which only increased her worry.
She looked at him with all her love for him shining from her face. "I can't do that. Something is terribly wrong here and I'll find out what it is – one way or another. You can either trust me with the truth voluntarily, or I'll force it out of you. It's your choice, Patrick. Either way I won't let this go. Something has happened and I won't allow you to shut me out. I love you and I'll be right by your side, no matter what."
Watching his face during her little speech had been a revealing but also terrifying experience. He was desperate and his despair had seemed to grow with every word, she'd said. "Please, Teresa, please," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper and full of obvious anguish.
She yearned to hold him and stepped closer, but he recoiled as much as possible in his position. "Tell me what's wrong, Patrick. We'll face it together, no matter what." She tried to reassure him.
"No, no, no," he mumbled, shaking his head violently.
She sighed and felt helpless and frustrated. "I won't leave this be, love. You know that. So why don't you save us both a lot of additional stress and just come clean?"
"I can't," he whispered, resigned and desperate. "I have to try at least," he added even quieter.
With a sudden hunch she stepped away from him and over to his desk. He had been working there when she came in. So maybe she would find her answers there. The moment her intentions became clear, Patrick jumped up and blocked her way, or attempted to. "I'll cuff you to the chair if necessary, Jane. Or I could call for back up," she warned him, her expression showing her determination.
That's when the fight finally left him. His shoulders dropped and he padded back to the cot with tears running silently down his face. It nearly broke her resolve, but this was important. She could comfort him later. First she had to find out what had turned him into such a mess in the first place.
She only had to remove his notebook and a folder to find what she'd been looking for: an innocent looking sheet of paper at first glance but in reality a horrible message, printed in a typeface she was getting all too familiar with.
My dear Patrick,
In my incredible generosity I've granted you some weeks of happiness. Well, unfortunately for you, time's up now. As I had to realize lately, your arrogance is still your greatest weakness and that can't be left unpunished. But I'll be bountiful to honor our long-standing friendship: if you give up your little green-eyed fling, I might decide to let her live. If not… well, you know the ropes, my dear. I'm sure she'll be a real treat - she smells like cinnamon and wild berries in her sleep…
Sincerely yours,
RJ
Sweet babe in thy face, / Holy image I can trace. / Sweet babe once like thee. / Thy maker lay and wept for me.
Her hands had started to shake and when she met her lover's eyes, she saw her own terror mirrored in his. She stumbled over to him and only when his arms engulfed her did she realize that he'd somehow managed to get out of the handcuffs. They clung to each other. "He was here last night. He was here while I slept," she whispered hauntingly against Patrick's chest.
He nodded, his whole body shaking like a leaf in a tornado. "Or at least one of his disciples," he pressed out. "Two times. He was here twice. The letter… he watched you sleep first, before he wrote the letter. How else could he have known?"
"Where did you find the letter, Patrick?" she asked hesitantly, but with a bit more control. She released him so she could collect herself. She couldn't fall apart now. She had to be strong for the both of them because he was paralyzed with terror. She couldn't blame him of course, but it was the reality of the matter.
"On the pillow," he provided quietly.
She fished her phone out of her pocket and called Van Pelt, though he tried to protest the whole time. "Shut up! We'll do this my way. You're not thinking straight right now."
The other woman took the phone almost immediately. "Hi, boss. Found Jane?"
"Grace, listen and listen carefully. I don't know if my phone is clean, or yours for that matter, so we have to act very fast. Go and get the films from the surveillance camera at the staircase leading up to the attic. Timeframe between two and eight am today. Bring them and your laptop up here afterwards and carry your weapon. Don't ask any questions right now, just go and do it, understood?"
"Yes boss, I'm on it," the young agent agreed, already on the move. To her credit, she just followed orders without a second thought. This was urgent and answers could wait.
Then Lisbon made another call. "Cho? Where are you? Already at work, good. Listen: I'm up in the attic with Jane. I need you to get an evidence kit and the other usual equipment to examine a crime scene. Come up here then, carry your weapon, and no questions, okay?"
"You won't find anything," Jane told her quietly, voice hollow.
"We'll see. He's made mistakes before." She took him in. He was pale and looked twenty years older than an hour ago. His eyes were sadder than she had ever seen them, silent tears were running out of them without him realizing. There was nothing left of his masks right now. He was raw with terror and pain. "Patrick," she addressed him warmly, "I'm here and I'm alive. Nothing will happen to me."
At that moment there was a knock on the door and Cho announced his arrival. Lisbon called him in and the fact that her lover didn't even make the slightest attempt to hide his tears or emotions in front of their colleague told her more about his state than she wanted to know. He seemed to have given up any pretense of strength. He'd given in to his innermost fears instead.
Cho took one look at the pair in the dusty space and knew this was Red John related and that it couldn't be good. At least he didn't see a dead body anywhere, which had been his greatest fear after Lisbon's weird call. But to see Jane in such a state was outright frightening. And that made him realize what this was about: That bastard was threatening Lisbon. That was the only logical explanation, the only thing that would turn the blond man from the most composed individual he knew into this complete mess. If anyone had ever had any doubts about the depths of Jane's feelings for her, one look at him now would remove every single one of them.
"Boss?" he asked, waiting for instruction or information.
"Ah, Cho. Good. You have everything I asked for?"
"Yes."
"There's a letter on the table. Read it and check it for prints. Jane's will be on it, and mine, but maybe we'll find something else. I know we're not really the experts, but I don't want to involve anyone else but the team right now. And hand me that other case. I'll check the room for other traces," Teresa ordered.
Cho nodded. He handed her the equipment he'd brought and walked over to the makeshift table. When he'd read the short but frightening message, a sense of panic took hold of him for a moment before he managed to compose himself. No wonder Jane was in such a state. This was probably like all his worst nightmares coming true.
Both agents got to work, while their almost catatonic consultant seemed to be in a world of his own. That wasn't entirely true, however. He did follow their conversation, but first and foremost his formidable brain was working on overdrive, trying to figure out why this message had appeared right here and now, and what it meant – apart from the obvious threat it contained.
About fifteen minutes later the rest of the team arrived. Van Pelt had picked Rigsby up in the bullpen on her way up to the attic, figuring he could be useful to whatever was going on. He was carrying his own laptop.
"Did you get it?" Lisbon asked anxiously the moment she caught sight of the redhead.
"Yes, Boss. And I got something else as well. While I was down in technical, Calvin Morris from the lab stopped me. Told me, he'd just sent me an e-mail with the results of you-know-what. Said, that the director had prohibited them from continuing the analysis, but since he isn't in office anymore and it's for Jane, they decided to do it anyway. You know, Morris was at the funeral and the party. He's carried a torch for Jane ever since he proved his brother's girlfriend innocent three years ago," she explained hastily. She took a good look around. "What's happened anyway?"
Suddenly Patrick jumped up from the cot. "I'm such an idiot! God, how could I have been so blind? Stupid, stupid!" he exclaimed, kicking the makeshift bed angrily.
Lisbon was by his side immediately. "Patrick, calm down," she ordered and put a comforting hand on his arm.
"But Lisbon. It's so clear now. How the hell could I be so damn stupid? I might have been able to save lives if I hadn't been so stupid. And now he's even threatening you. So much for being smart." He snorted derisively. "I'm such an idiot."
"Could you stop chastising yourself for a second and explain yourself instead?"
But Jane was deep in thought once again. He mumbled, but only snatches were understandable, such as, "He was there! Of course, he was there", "Fool!", "Arrogant, yes", "After the first time, of course!" He shook his head.
"Patrick Alexander Jane!" Lisbon addressed him vigorously. "Talk to us. What have you just figured out?" She shook him a little, to get him out of his stupor.
It got his attention. He blinked a few times and then he looked at her. For the first time since this whole mess had started she saw something other than fear and anguish in his eyes. He pulled her into a forceful hug. "I know who he is," he whispered. "Red John. I know who he is, Lisbon."
"You think you know who Red John is?" she asked disbelievingly. "All of a sudden?"
"No, Lisbon. I KNOW who he is. It all makes sense now," Jane replied triumphantly, his demeanor a bit too maniacal for her taste.
She released him and cast him a serious look. "Not to be a spoil-sport, but you've thought so before, with Timothy Carter," she said a bit skeptical.
"Well, doesn't matter. We have the proof now anyway. Grace, get a move, set up your laptop," he ordered frantically.
"Jane, stop this. First, you'll tell us what you've figured out," Teresa told him, worry in her eyes.
"Nope," he answered. "You'll get your real proof first. You won't believe me anyway, without it," he said defiantly.
"Patrick, please. Be reasonable. This is not the time to play mind games with us. We need to know what you've found out." She tried to get through to him.
That's when Rigsby chimed in, "Well, it would actually help a lot if we knew what's going on. I have no idea why we're even up here."
Lisbon sighed. "Sorry, you're right. Cho, fill them in, Van Pelt, tell the boys about the testing. And you, Jane, are going to sit down with me and talk. I've had it with your nonsense. Don't you think that this situation is stressful enough for me as well?" Her eyes were spitting fire at the last part.
She grabbed his arm, pulled him down on the cot again, and sat down beside him. "Ah, but Lisbon, why would I want to spoil the surprise for you? You'll find out soon enough." Jane tried to joke, grinning like a loon, which wasn't too far off his actual state of mind.
But Teresa had reached the end of her patience. She knew Patrick wasn't in any way thinking and acting rationally right now, and he tended to get extra annoying in such a state, but this was too much even for her tolerance. In addition, the overwhelming anxiety she'd barely managed to keep in check at the thought of a serial killer having watched her sleep last night, caught up with her as well at that moment.
And so a loud smack suddenly echoed through the dusty space, followed by an indignant "Ouch!"
The three other agents turned their heads in the direction of the bed and saw their bewildered consultant sporting a clearly visible red imprint of a small hand on his cheek.
"Are you back with us again now and willing to speak?" Lisbon asked him grumpily.
"You hit me," he stated sadly. "Why did you hit me?"
"To get your attention, Patrick. You were somewhere else entirely and you were being very annoying," she explained, feeling bad about her impulsive action already.
"That was very harsh, boss," Cho said to the nods of his two colleagues. "I'm not one to meddle in others' affairs, but this isn't right, Teresa. He's annoying all the time. You've never hit him before. And it's not right."
Jane jumped up from the cot. "You're defending me?" he asked with total astonishment, his own indignation forgotten, ready to jump to his lover's defense. "But I was really annoying. Lisbon had every right to…"
Cho interrupted him. "No, she didn't, Jane. This is stressful for all of us and Agent Lisbon didn't act professionally. As her second in command and as both your and her friend I had to point that out. Now, let's get back to work." Locking eyes with the blond man he added, "And it might be a good idea if you actually shared your new findings with us, now we're all up to speed on the rest of the information."
Teresa had gotten up from the cot as well by now. She felt a deep sense of shame being chastised like that by her colleague. But Cho was right. She had lost her control and she'd hurt the man she loved, who incidentally was in a very peculiar mental state right now due to recent events. She looked at her three agents and said, "I apologize. Cho's right. I didn't handle the situation appropriately. I would understand if you took this to our superiors. It was totally uncalled for."
"But Lisbon, I…" Jane tried to protest.
"No, Patrick, there is no excuse for it." She stepped close to him and covered his cheeks with her hands, carefully caressing the one still showing a red mark. "I'm sorry, love. I know you were stressed and acting like a jerk because of that. Hell, it's perfectly understandable all things considered. Please forgive me."
He locked eyes with her. "I'm not angry, Teresa. There's nothing to forgive. And heaven knows you have the same excuse to act irrationally. It's not every day a serial killer threatens your life after all." He closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to hers, for once ignoring her wishes about PDAs in front of the team and at work. He felt they both needed this connection right now. He was proven correct when he sensed her deepening the kiss almost desperately. For a few moments they both forgot the outside world – and the nearly sputtering Rigsby in it – and devoured each other with abandon. It was like reassuring each other, confirming that they were still here, together, and that nothing could stop them. "I love you, Teresa," he said, voice full of emotion, after breaking a kiss that had been on the verge of getting out of hand.
"I love you too, Patrick," she answered with just as much emotion behind it.
Van Pelt sighed dreamily, Rigsby looked totally perturbed, and Cho couldn't quell a satisfied, little smile. "We should probably get back to the matter at hand, boss, as much as we enjoyed this little show," the latter deadpanned.
Lisbon turned a bright shade of red, just now remembering they had an audience. "I… that would be best." Looking awfully embarrassed she added, "Sorry, that was completely unprofessional again."
"It's okay, boss. It's good to see how much you love each other. It was really romantic," her youngest team member tried to reassure her eagerly with a happy smile, but it only made Teresa's blush increase in intensity.
Seeing that his girlfriend was too out of her depth to act at the moment, Jane took charge of the situation. He was in a peculiar mood right now, hovering between complete panic and total elation at the fact that he'd finally figured out Red John's identity. "Okay, guys. Here's how we're gonna do this. Grace, you set up your computer. Open the results you got and start matching them with the CBI database. If I'm right with my conclusions, which is a given of course, you should get a result there." Van Pelt nodded and got to work at once not bothered in the least by him giving out orders. "Rigsby, Cho? Take the other laptop and go over the footage from the surveillance camera. Maybe that way we'll get a visual match to the DNA, at least if he did his dirty work in person. I have my doubts, but who knows? Considering who he is, he would at least have had no trouble getting into the building."
The two males complied as well, mostly because his orders made perfect sense but also because they trusted him.
"Are you ordering around my team, Jane?" Lisbon asked after regaining her poise. The last few minutes just watching what was going on around her had done wonders to her overall state. Her eyes were glinting with mirth.
"Yep. They are very well trained. My compliments, Agent Lisbon," Patrick teased her. "I thought I would give them something to do while we make out on the bed," he added with a cheeky grin after picking up on her lightened mood.
They heard Rigsby choking down a stricken groan and snickered. She winked and said, "I think not, Mr. Jane. You still have some explaining to do. Why don't we sit down?"
They retook their seats on the cot and she prompted him with a grim look. "Out with it now! Who is Red John?"
TBC
Reviews are like cliffhangers: they always make you wish for more... ;-)
