Case-closed pizza. One of the little traditions the team still held onto. In fact, if anything, they deserved it all the more now that closing a case inevitably also meant being a media sensation. People just didn't seem to get tired of them, especially Jane.
So it was that they were all together when the call came in that night. Cho answered it.
"Hey, yeah, I've got a body here, male DB, can't tell much more…honestly, we're out of our depth on this one. We'd appreciate the Red Team's help." Brett Partridge gave an address.
"We'll be right there." Cho hung up and turned to Lisbon. "Boss, homicide, CSIs are requesting our help," he told her.
"Well, at least they aren't asking for something other than our specialty," Lisbon said, sparing only the briefest of forlorn glances for her unfinished pizza. "Let's go."
"Now?" asked Van Pelt. "It's the middle of the night!"
"Yep," Lisbon said dryly. "Cho, what's the address?"
~o~
The address was right on the corner of Sacramento, on the very edge of where the big city buildings ended and smaller things began. No one thought much of it at the time, but it was also one of the most distant spots from any hospital it's possible to be in without actually leaving Sacramento.
There were already some CSI vehicles outside when the team of five arrived. The team of five got out of their cars and approached the run-down building, feeling like they'd done this before but otherwise not suspicious. Jane lagged behind, letting the 'real' cops lead the charge, just in case.
Suddenly, Van Pelt, who was right in front of Jane, thought she heard a soft "pfft!" sound, and Jane gave a strangled cry. She turned around to see him fall to his knees.
"Jane?" she exclaimed, running back to him.
The others turned and ran over to them as Jane sank to the ground on his front, making choked noises as though his lungs were damaged.
Lisbon crouched down in front of him. "Jane?"
He turned his head upwards with what looked like enormous effort. His hand suddenly reached out and grabbed hers.
"L…Lis…bon…" he choked, so soft she could barely hear him.
"What? Jane, what's going on?" Things were happening too fast for her to make any sense of anything. She leaned in closer, trying to hear him, his grip on her hand almost painful.
"I…I'm…s…s…sor…ry…" he managed. Then his grip went slack, and he passed out.
"Jane!" Lisbon tried to shake him awake; it was dark, so she couldn't see it yet. It took her a minute to realize that her right hand, which had been trying to shake him by the left shoulder, was wet. She took it back and saw it was covered in red.
Fear choking her, she grabbed a flashlight and shone in on the spot her hand had been. There, in Jane's back, at about the same point where his heart was, was a bullet hole. His back was bloody, especially his left shoulder, but not nearly as bloody as it should have been.
"Jane!"
"Oh my god!"
"Call it in!"
Cho ran to take Rigsby's direction. Lisbon, frantic, tried to roll Jane over. Rigsby and Van Pelt helped her. They checked his vitals.
"He's not breathing," Van Pelt reported.
"No pulse," Rigsby said, scared.
No. Oh god, no! No!
Delirious now, Lisbon started to give him CPR. "Damn it, Jane, don't you dare die on me!" she shouted.
~o~
Rich watched from his vantage point atop a nearby tall building. He far from an expert marksman, but it looked like his aim had been true nonetheless.
He saw Lisbon's reaction and felt a tiny twinge of guilt. This would devastate her, he knew that. But it had to be done.
He took out his phone. Time for phase two.
~o~
Charlotte was just about to pack up and go home when her phone rang. She answered it. "Hello?"
"Patrick Jane's been shot," said a man's voice. He gave an address, then added, "It looks like he's already dead; you may want to hurry if you want to get this on the news."
"Sir, I'm sorry, how do you know this?" Charlotte asked, taken aback.
A sinister chuckle came over the line. "Because I'm the one who shot him," he answered. "Oh, tell your sister something for me, won't you? Tell her I'm sorry for her pain, I truly am, but the bastard had it coming and it's for the best anyway."
"Who are you?" Charlotte exclaimed.
Rich chuckled again. "Among Red John's friends, I'm known as his Little Rich Boy," he told Charlotte; "my real name is Walter Mashbourne."