A/N: I think I should be able to get this done in time now. I can't see this going on for much more than five parts - thank goodness. Still can't believe I even thought this was a sane idea and I certainly don't recommend writing a multiparter this fast.

Thank you to: Divinia Serit, EternalDarkness'n'Randomness007, dwennie, boutondor, Helvetica Bold, Frogster, Koezh, forthecoast, yaba and Famous4it for reviewing part ten.

x tromana

Part Eleven

Red John may have said 'you're next', but they hadn't seen hide nor hair of him for months.

It was making everyone rather nervous, especially Lisbon.

She had been acting a little off in that time, but Jane didn't blame her.

Not only was she mourning a friend, someone who she had known for years, but she was constantly watching over her shoulder for a serial killer. A serial killer who had openly said that she was going to be his next target.

And on top of all that, her boss had left her in the lurch. One of the few men she actually trusted just deserted her in her hour of crisis simply because he'd lost confidence in himself.

It was enough to make anyone behave a little out of sorts.

They'd moved house though. Firstly, it provided him with an ideal opportunity to move back in with her, but that wasn't the main reason for it. Lisbon simply couldn't relax in her own home and that was unfair on her. She needed some downtime, somewhere she could feel safe and secure. The recent attacks on CBI had left that out of the question and knowing that Red John knew where she lived…

Well, they didn't have too much of a choice really.

Jane had also tried to get her to talk to him, something which he only had little successes with.

Again, hardly surprising.

Lisbon wasn't the most forthcoming of people at the best of times, especially post-divorce, when she reverted back into herself and her job. Most of what he knew about her as she was now was what he read from her body language. That never changed - she was still as easy to read as an open book, not that she would ever admit that to herself.

Jane would suggest that she saw someone, talked about it. But that would have been hypocritical as he wouldn't ever consider discussing his problems with a professional willingly either.

Besides, she didn't have the best of successes when it came to psychiatrists. It was probably for the best that she avoided them altogether.

Especially since the McTeer debacle. They don't even dare talk about that.

He watched her as she gathered together her belongings, concentrating completely on the task in hand. An out of town case meant they both needed overnight bags and she, naturally, was taking the opportunity to stress out about it.

"Patrick," she sighed, irritated as he got in the way yet again. "The flight leaves in three hours. Are you actually going to help or just get in the way?"

"I'm just admiring the view."

She scowled at him as she grabbed a jacket from behind him and shoved it haphazardly in the bag. There was a time and a place for him to be like that and now was not it.

000

The case was an odd one.

It looked like it should be a Red John one.

The cutting was the same. So was the presentation of the body.

The poor woman even had her toenails painted in her own blood. Red John didn't always do that, but whenever he felt like he needed to a point to make, he did.

Like Jane's wife. And Emma Plaskett.

However, the smiley face was missing.

"Maybe he was disturbed?" Maybe he didn't have time to do it?" Van Pelt queried, the theory being the most plausible one she could come up with.

Lisbon shook her head.

He'd had time to paint the toenails, he wouldn't have skipped out on the face.

Red John would have just killed the person who disturbed them instead.

He was too proud, too much an artist to consider leaving the job half done. And there was no way he would let somebody else take the credit for something he did so well.

She knew as much as that. They all did.

Lisbon crouched by the body, glancing up and down, trying to work out what exactly it was she was missing.

It couldn't be a coincidence that the wounds were identical to every single one of the serial killer's. Which meant, that if it was a Red John, the fact that he 'forgot' the one thing that would irrefutably tie him to the crime scene, there had to be a reason for it.

Lisbon glanced up at Jane. He looked just as bemused as she felt.

That wasn't a good sign.

"There's something in her pocket."

Nodding in response to Jane's statement, Lisbon allowed her gloved hand to dip into the dead woman's jacket pocket and she pulled out a pack of post it notes.

They were blank, apart from a few spots of ink that had bled through from where somebody had written on the top one.

They bagged it anyway, but Lisbon doubted it would be of any use.

000

She slept fitfully that night.

Jane insisted that she had the bed. He claimed that his insomnia meant he wouldn't make good use of it and therefore, there was little point in her suffering just to be polite.

Though she had started to relax around him, even started flirting again on occasion, they still weren't ready to share a bed again.

He doubted they would be for a while.

Lisbon probably only saw the relationship as being a necessity, something to help them with the Red John case, though nothing appeared to be coming of it. If it was resolved any time soon, he knew that she would take flight. The whole situation made her feel uncomfortable and the sooner she could be on her own again, the better.

Part of him hoped that this would drag on for a while then. Just so that she had the time to stop living in denial. To actually acknowledge her feelings for him.

They were still there.

Jane knew it, even if she didn't.

Come morning, she looked exhausted and Jane served her coffee quietly. He felt pretty rough too; the couch in their tiny motel bedroom wasn't exactly the most ideal place to sleep and watching her toss and turn had kept him awake for most of the night.

It was times like this that he just felt helpless.

After showering, she insisted that they head straight to their local base of operations. Van Pelt had managed to get them a couple of rooms shortly after seeing the body. The local officers weren't all that impressed with their presence, but Lisbon didn't really care. They were there to do a job and she was determined to sort out this little puzzle.

"Agent Lisbon?" the receptionist called across the lobby as they went to leave. "This was left here for you."

She cocked her head slightly, but indicated that the others should go on without her. Shrugging their shoulders, they left as instructed. Lisbon was going to be seconds behind them so it didn't really matter all that much.

The woman found the item a little odd, but the man had been insistent that Agent Lisbon received it. She wasn't one to ignore instructions, especially from somebody as persuasive as that.

Besides, he said that the petite woman standing before her would understand what it meant.

It was just a post-it note.

A yellow post-it note with one word and a little red symbol on it.

Soon.

TBC…