Title: Charlotte's Web (Chapter 15)

Rating: M for graphic violence and language

Fandom: The Mentalist

Summary: Patrick Jane has lived his life obsessed with the capture of Red John ever since finding his beloved wife and daughter slain by the maniac's hand. Now, 10 years to the day after that horrific night, a young woman appears in Patrick's life, someone who threatens to destroy everything his life has become in the interim... if not his sanity, itself.

Author's note: Sorry guys. Computer trouble. Then sick. And busy. Please review. This is AU and RJ in this is not the RJ from canon. I hope you enjoy.

"It is by suffering that human beings become angels." -Victor Hugo

Saturday, November 3, 2013 6:15 am PST

Jane had driven around for a few hours, found an empty lot beside a bit of beach and parked the truck. He leaned back in his seat and shut his tired eyes. In a few hours he would drive them to the border. It would go smoothly, he was sure. But border guards... ever since 9-11 they had been a bit insane and paranoid, even if people were leaving the country. The story was that they were a family going river rafting down in Mexico. They were going to take an archeological tour of Cacaxtla. Early Thanksgiving gift. Jane knew it would go fine. He had fake ID for himself and Lisbon. A friend of a friend had made fake ID for Charlotte on the spot for a few hundred and he had picked it up, while Lisbon and Charlotte (hopefully) snoozed away back in the airstream. Amazing what a few thousand dollars for 20 minutes of work could get you in the middle of the night, if you knew the right people...

He wanted to get over the border before 9 am. A lot of law enforcement agencies started work at 9 and they had been mentioned on the news the day before. And he wanted to get across the border, get to Red John, find the Crazy Chicken Man Charlotte had spoken of. This guy was a lead, he was someone to talk to. More than that, Jane didn't think he'd last long. He could feel it in his gut. Red John would want to take care of his loose ends, now. Or get there first, to trap the mystic. Or something.

And Jane needed to talk to him. Needed to see and meet and talk to this character himself. He needed to see the man who was a shaman, who Charlotte believed would help them. Because, somewhere deep inside, Jane was beginning to suspect his daughter might not be crazy. The world had turned on its head. The impossible was now possible, the dead were once again alive. And Red John had messed up. Things had changed.

Jane thought of Charlotte's reaction to the owl bedding and felt a chill. It was an extreme reaction and he had no idea what it meant. He was used to looking at people, sizing them up, making mental lists of probabilities based on behaviour. And usually? He was right. But now? He wasn't sure. Charlotte wasn't a typical teenage girl. Her upbringing- the last decade of it, at least- had been anything but usual. Her responses to things were "odd" because her life was so stunningly "odd". He didn't know what to think about things anymore, and it was eating at him, an acid, wearing away at his confidence. He took a deep breath and did some mental exercises meant to boost self confidence. Various forms of self-hypnosis. He had to be on his game when they went through the border. So did Lisbon. Jane exhaled out slowly, felt his wrist, his pulse. Pulse rate was 65 beats a minute. Good enough. Calm. He slipped out of the truck and went back to the airstream. Unlocked the door and entered, quiet. Lisbon was asleep, gun still in its holster. She was sitting up, eyes closed, head leaning against the glass. She stirred and made a move for her gun.

"Just me," Jane said softly. Lisbon licked her lips, foggy, tried her eyes and blinked. Nodded. Everyone was way too tense.

Charlotte was asleep, apparently, curled on her side, face towards the wall, back to him. She was wearing the dark green hoody Lisbon had got her and the hood was up. Her head was resting on the pale blue pillow, and the rest of her was buried in her sleeping bag. Jane went over to her and gazed down. Her face was pinched in sleep, nervous, her cheeks were flushed. A sweaty golden curl was stuck to her forehead, dark with sweat. Her eyes looked bruised for lack of sleep. He wanted to reach out and kiss her cheek or touch her hair. Didn't dare to do that, not yet...

"Charlie?" He said. So softly. Almost afraid to wake her. But they had to get their stories straight, and he didn't want to drop the info on them 10 minutes before going through customs. No movement. Nada. Jane frowned. Put his hand on his daughter's shoulder and touched it. Barely. Shook her gently.

Nothing. Jane felt his heart skip a beat and then explode against his ribs.

"Charlotte?" A bit louder then. Slowly, green eyes slit open. Jane could breathe again. Charlotte gazed out at him, hazy and fatigued. Smacked her lips and made a face.

"What time is it?"

"A little after 6," Jane said, grinning. He had been so scared there, for a second, and even know felt a bit adrenaline-dizzy, dazed...

"Why the Hell did you wake me up before 9 in the morning?" Charlotte snarked and shut her eyes again. Jane felt like laughing. He felt like grabbing her in a hug and kissing her. He just grinned.

"We're going through customs in a little over 2 hours and I want everybody to know what to say. Just in case. Lisbon and I... we're together..." Jane shot Lisbon a look. Smiled at her gently. Lisbon stared back, nodded her head at him.

"Not married, but together. Okay?"

"Hmmm?" Charlotte murmured, eyes still shut. Drifting back to sleep...

"Charlotte, come on, wake up-"

"Dad! I'm tired!" This was snarked out. Jane stopped talking. Looked over at Lisbon. The smile was gone. He was beyond smiling.

She had called him 'Dad'. Without thinking of it. Half asleep, her not-quite-awake mind had reverted back ten years... He finally found his voice.

"I know that. Come on Charlie, please? Wake up for a just a bit and then you can go back to sleep?" He tugged at her and pulled her to a sitting position. She made a noise like a snorting huff and slit her eyes open again.

"Patrick! I am trying to sleep!" Grumpy. Charlotte had never been a morning person. He could remember her at five, hair knotted and messy from sleep, eye swollen with sleep, cheeks flushed, dressed in My Little Pony pajamas and glaring at her cheerios as Angela had made him eggs and listened to the oldies...

"Sorry. Look. For customs, in case they ask. Lisbon and I are together. Your mother is dead. You are my daughter. We homeschool you. Our last name is Duncan. Duncan. Got it?"

"Like the donuts?" Charlotte groused. It took Jane a second longer than it should have for him to get it.

"Yes. Like the donuts. Your name is Sarah. I am Paul. Lisbon is Kathleen Harrison. Okay?"

"Sarah Duncan. Paul Duncan. And Dad's girlfriend."

"Kathleen Harrison," Jane coached patiently.

"Kathleen Harrison," Charlotte repeated wearily, groggily, eyes still swollen with sleep.

"Yes, and I am a university professor of comparative religions and Lisbon is a forensic psychologist. And we are going to Mexico on an a white-water-rafting adventure and to Cacaxtla to look at ruins of temples..."

"Jesus Christ who cares?!" Charlotte snipped and Jane heard Lisbon cough out a burst of laughter. "Nobody is going to ask all of this! They don't care!"

"Charlotte..."

"I'll remember. Sarah Duncan. Paul Duncan. Kathleen Harrison. Forensic psychologist. University professor. Where do we live?"

"San Diego."

"Fine. Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Yeah," Jane said softly, and turned to face Lisbon. She was grinning her Lisbon-grin at him.

"You get all that Lisbon?"

"I got it," Lisbon said, inclining her head a little. Jane smiled back."Okay. Do we need to stop somewhere for breakfast or can you guys fix something to eat back here?"

"We don't need to stop. It's fine."

"Okay," Jane said and smiled again. It had to go fine. It had to go smoothly. He wanted no problems at the border. From behind him he heard a soft curse and saw Charlotte shed her sleeping bag like a caterpillar emerging from its cocoon. Charlotte was wearing her pajama pants and the hood was now down, golden curls crazy and sweat soaked and sticking to her forehead. She padded barefoot to the kitchen of the airstream as Lisbon and Jane both watched, removed a bowl from the cabinets, got a spoon, pulled out the box of Cinnamon toast crunch and a 4 pack of chocolate jello puddings and then turned around and pulled the milk out of the fridge. The fridge began to hum softly as she opened and shut the door. Still half asleep, Charlotte spilled milk all over the laminate counter top and down the drawers, but didn't seem to notice. She carried her bowl of cereal and chocolate puddings over to the dinette and sat down with a teenage-weary sigh. Began to eat her cereal, loudly, eyes barely open. Jane watched her, amazed at her comfort level. She acted like she had been raised in this airstream.

"Are you having four chocolate puddings and cinnamon toast crunch for breakfast?" Lisbon said then, surprising Jane. She sounded so maternal, so amused. Charlotte looked over and nodded. "Yeah," the teenager said, mouth full, a thin ribbon of milk leaking down her chin. "And a beer to wash it all down..."

"No, you're not," Jane cut in without meaning to. "No beer."

"Yes, beer. I am emancipated, Patrick. You can't tell me what to do! Besides. I always have beer with breakfast."

Jane and Lisbon exchanged a look, somewhere between amused and concerned.

"It's not even 7 in the morning and you're 16," Jane said patiently. Charlotte shrugged.

"And J. Edgar Hoover was a cross-dresser and human flesh tastes like pork. What is your point?"

"I don't want you drunk... or buzzed... or smelling like alcohol, when we go through customs. Okay? Just in case?" Jane coaxed. Surely she could see the logic in that. Charlotte sighed. Finally nodded.

"Fine. I will have my beer with lunch," she said, and slurped up another spoonful of cinnamon toast crunch. Lisbon shot Jane a look and he simply shook his head. They would not argue about this right now. He'd get rid of the beer and they'd deal with this...issue... later. After Red John. For now, the fewer arguments, the better. He already knew Charlotte would not be as easy to sway as most kids. For good reason, of course, but still. At the moment, he needed to focus on one thing at a time. He could be the concerned father later.

Saturday, November 3, 2013 6:46 am PST

After his talk with them, Jane shot Lisbon a meaningful look, something between "thank you" and "we'll talk about this later" and Lisbon, almost imperceptibly, nodded. Jane grabbed the frying pan out from under the range and made them both eggs and bacon and drip coffee. Charlotte watched with sleep-buggy eyes and then, apparently bored, shuffled to the bathroom. Jane could hear water splashing as he served up eggs onto two plates. His child returned minutes later wearing her rumpled Metallica t-shirt over a long-sleeved green shirt and jeans, hair somewhat combed, toothbrush poking out of her mouth. Jane nodded at her to acknowledge her presence.

"You want any eggs?"

Charlotte made a face. "Eggs are disgusting."

"Are they?" Jane asked sweetly, not bothered in the slightest at her snark. "I like them."

"Yeah, well, there is no accounting for taste," Charlotte said, and it would have been nasty if not for the playful grin. She slouched her way back into the bathroom, and Jane heard her spit out her toothpaste and run the water again. She came back wiping her mouth on her sleeve.

"You like eggs, Lisbon?" Charlotte asked, nodding at Lisbon. Lisbon nodded, mouth full.

"They are Patrick's favourite food," Charlotte told Lisbon. Lisbon nodded again.

"And strawberries. He likes strawberries, too. And wonder bread sandwiches with strawberry jam.."

"I'm right here," Jane said, smiling sweetly. Charlotte nodded at her father.

"You like all those things, still, don't you, Patrick?"

"Yes," Jane said with a nod.

"I thought so. I am glad. I still like french fries. Remember how I liked to eat french fries all the time? With ketchup?"

"Yes," Jane said, nodding.

Charlotte was still for a moment. She was smiling, and then the smile seemed to fade, a mirage.

"What?" Jane coaxed.

"Nothing. Tired. Headache, maybe..." It wasn't even a decent attempt at changing the subject. Jane didn't push it.

"After breakfast what are we going to do?" Charlotte asked. She was folding up her blankets now, storing them in the storage are under the padded seats.

"I am going to drive us through the border. Should be a peace of cake. First little town we come to, I'll stop and come see how you guys are?" Jane asked. Charlotte nodded.

"That's probably Tecate, then," Charlotte informed her father. Jane nodded. He wasn't sure, but he would take her word for it.

"Do you remember everybody's names?" Jane said, done with his eggs, laying his fork and knife neatly on the side.

"Sarah Dunan, home-schooled" Charlotte said, pointing at herself. "Paul Duncan, university professor. Comparative religions." Charlotte stopped, looking at her father for confirmation. He nodded.

"Kathleen Harrison, forensic psychologist," Charlotte said, pointing at Lisbon. "Dad's girlfriend. We all live in San Diego. Are going on a white-water-rafting adventure. My biological mother is dead..." These last words were softer than the rest, and Jane thought he heard sadness in them, but the emotion was gone almost as fast as it had come and he couldn't be certain.

"All that right?" Charlotte confirmed. Jane nodded. "Yes. Excellent. Perfect. Thank you."

Charlotte smiled. "And no beer until over the border..."

"Yes," Jane nodded again. "That's right. Thank you."

Charlotte waved a hand absently. "Don't mention it," she said, good-naturedly. The grumpiness was easing out of her, now that she was fully awake and had eaten. Even as a toddler she'd been extremely crabby in the mornings, had had trouble waking up. It was a Charlie thing.

Lisbon finished her breakfast, looked at Jane and tilted her head and he smiled, said "Sure, thanks," and she took his plate with her, deposited them in the dish washer. Charlotte watched the domestic scene, a soft, far-away look in her eyes.

"Um, Lisbon?" Charlotte asked. The teen was now sitting cross-legged on what was obviously her "bed", portable DVD player open and apparently loaded.

"Yeah?" Lisbon asked, running water in the sink, washing her hands.

"Can you watch Pee Wee's Big Adventure with me?" Charlotte asked. It was such an innocent and child-like request that Jane felt a surge of fierce love and protectiveness.

"Didn't you watch that last night?" Lisbon asked, grinning with delight.

"I sort of fell asleep. I saw it before, though, when I was very little," Charlotte informed Lisbon seriously. "It's a good movie. I love Tim Burton."

"I like him, too," Lisbon acknowledged, still grinning. "I'd be honoured to watch it with you, Charlotte."

"You can just say Charlie, if you want," Charlotte said, darting her father a look that was guarded. Jane noticed it, wondered what it meant. What was she thinking?

Going through customs had been easy. Jane had recited his story easily, cool as a cucumber, usual mentalist qualities in place and was waved through by a young, bored looking latino guy with a buzz cut. He drove straight through to Tecate and stopped the truck, got out, went back to the airstream. Lisbon and Charlotte were still watching Pee Wee, Charlotte's eyes glued to the screen. Lisbon looked up as he entered the airstream, an expectant "we okay?" look on her face. Jane nodded before speaking.

"So, yeah, we're in Tecate. There is a store up ahead. You want anything?"

Charlotte kept watching the screen. Jane wanted to get back in the truck and keep driving. Part of him was extremely worried that the Crazy Chicken Man might "disappear" and it was the only real link he had to go on. They were in Red John's turf. Another part of him wanted to take Lisbon and his child and disappear, but if they did that, they would never stop running. He would live the rest of his life jumping at shadows, always fearful that either one or both Lisbon and Charlotte had been '"gotten to". That was no way to live. At the present, he was warring with himself, between the logical need and desire to get to the crazy chicken man and set a trap for Red John and the desire to resist this meet up, to delay the inevitable trauma that was coming. He wasn't used to being so conflicted, wasn't sure how to process his instincts and emotions, and wondered if this sense of being off-balance was anything like what Charlotte herself had experienced as reality for most of her life. If so, she had been in Hell. But... but he knew that already.

"Charlotte?" Jane said after a moment. She was still watching the screen, absorbed in the movie. Desperately absorbed in the movie.

"Huh?" She looked up with weary, foggy eyes.

"We're in Tecate. Want anything from the store?"

"Nah," Charlotte said, and she turned her attention immediately back to the screen. "We need to get to Hermosillo, Patrick. How was customs, though?"

"Fine," Jane said, but she wasn't looking at him.

"Told you," Charlotte murmured, eyes still on the screen. "It's coming back into the country that you need to be concerned about, but we're all white, well-spoken and you have money, right? Not a big deal. Plus, we won't be coming back until..." The teenager trailed off, but both Lisbon and Jane knew what she was alluding to. They wouldn't be returning to the US until Red John was dead.

"Lisbon? Want anything from the store?" He wanted to talk to her alone, he wanted to get a sense of her, how she was doing, if she was scared. But he didn't want to leave Charlotte alone, was paranoid something might happen to her. That sense of jumpiness, of the two most important people in his life being able to be grabbed and disposed of was tearing at his guts.

"No, I'm good." Lisbon said. Her words felt stilted and awkward, even to her. They were all anxious, all on edge.

"Anyone want to ride up in front?" Jane asked. Hermosillo was still 8 hours away, more or less. He'd probably make it in 6 and a half. He wanted both Lisbon and Charlotte with him, felt a need to have them within visual distance, but knew that they were safe in the trailer, especially while they were on the road and moving. Jane wondered if Lisbon was having similar paranoid thoughts, that something might happen to him in the cab of the truck, that they might be ambushed or... (stop it!)

"Not enough room up there. We have to get to Hermosillo. Before Red John does," Charlotte mumbled, eyes focused on the screen, but there was no play in her words. Jane nodded. She was right. He let out a sigh, inaudible.

"Okay," he said slowly. "You guys..." suddenly he wished he'd purchased them walkie talkies, so he could check in on them. Maybe he could pick up a pair, but when? He'd done a lot on the spur of the moment. Nobody could be expected to think of everything.

But, that wasn't entirely true, was it? He had to think of everything. One wrong move could get them all killed.

"We'll be fine, Dad." Charlotte said, and Jane knew the use of the D-word was deliberate. Mumbled, like she was testing it out, eyes still on the screen so it wasn't so awkward. Jane nodded again, met Lisbon's eyes, saw them lock onto his, a small crease of the eyes. Meaning in that look, compassion and strength. We can do it.

"The crazy chicken man... when we get to Hermosillo, where should I go?"

Charlotte looked away from the screen then, folded the DVD player shut. Sighed. For a moment she looked lost.

"Not sure. I mean, sometimes he can be found on the main street, and in the pubs. He doesn't really have an office anyway. But I think he knows we're coming."

"How could he know that?" Jane said immediately, confused. Charlotte shrugged.

"He just seems to know these things. I prayed to God, for God to tell him we're coming. So I bet he'll be waiting for us."

"Charlotte..." Jane started, trying not to let any annoyance into his tone. He sighed again. Shut his eyes. What else could she really say or do? Finally, he looked at her but she had flipped the portable DVD player screen back up and her eyes had drifted away from him.

"We either find him, or we don't, Patrick. We either find Red John first, or he finds us first. That is why I am saying we should get back on the road, because Red John, if he knows we're gone? Is probably going to take a personal plane out there and be waiting for us."

Jane considered this. He'd considered it before, but Charlotte wasn't considering it, she was certain this was what would happen, what reality would be. And she would know, she would know a lot better than he would. She had lived with Red John, been more-or-less raised by the man and she would know these things. Of course he'd take a plane out there. Of course he'd be waiting for them. He was always one step ahead, wasn't he?

"Usually, but not always," Charlotte said then, offhandedly, and Jane stared at her and looked over at Lisbon, who looked confused. He hadn't spoken that last thought out loud.

"What?" He finally said, after a moment or two. Charlotte looked up.

"You said he's always one step ahead? I said, not always."

"I didn't say that," Jane said. He felt a chill in his blood, a sense of oppression, of the paranormal. "I thought it, then, but I didn't say... it." He looked over at Lisbon. Her skin was looking milk-white, porcelain. Too pale. Eyes, too sunken and dark. And now she looked spooked again.

Charlotte sighed and waved away Jane's concern.

"So, you thought it. So what? Don't look so freaked out. You're a mentalist, right? Used to pretend to be a psychic? I can do that, too."

"Yes," Jane said, voice closer to normal now. "You can. He's not always one step ahead. In this case, then... how can we improve our odds? Any ideas?"

Charlotte's eyebrows furrowed, but she kept her eyes on Pee Wee. Finally, a shrug.

"That gets into the whole fate and free will paradox thing, and I just don't know, Patrick. I don't know, trying to out-plan Red John makes me feel like an automaton, I begin to think free will doesn't exist and that everything is fated and that Red John has already won..." her words, now, ate at his heart. Finally she squinted at the screen, sighed loudly.

"But I know free will exists, just... I can't feel it anymore. Haven't been able to feel it for a long time, but for all I know, that sensation of being doomed is a curse and-"

"Charlie," Jane said gently, cutting off the stream of thoughts. "What is the best move here?"

Charlotte bit her lip for a second. "Go to Hermosillo, almost. Almost, then stop. Then I might have some ideas."

Another way for saying: I don't know what to do, either.

Sorry for how long it has taken for this chapter, life got in the way. Please review. Hopefully next chapter is out sooner. Want to write more regularly.