Nine

Everything was in slow motion. Investigators passed him left and right as they ran into the house. Few were shaking their heads as they surveyed the scene before them and wrote down the necessities. The city of Chicago has only heard of Red John, never had a case with him. All they knew was how much the State of California wanted him, how the 'fake psychic medium' Patrick Jane lost everything he ever loved to him. To Patrick, it was all happening again.

He walked up the steps towards the house, to be stopped by a guard. He pulled out his CBI card, eyes searching the man in front of him for admittance. The guard must have seen the guilt in the blonde consultant's eyes, the look that made him known.

"You're Patrick Jane, aren't you?" Patrick looked down at his CBI card. Well of course, it did say his name on it. The man probably just wants to actually go home to some 'fan' of his and brag on how he met the one man who aggravated a serial killer. Just great.

"Yes," it took every fiber of his being to keep him from saying something else, he wanted this monster caught and tortured slowly, to pay for what he did to his family, to Lisbon. That man did not deserve to live.

The man nodded, lifted the tape and allowed access to the fresh crime scene. When he walked into the foyer, he placed his hands in the pockets of his blazer and scanned the room. Very well put together. He then walked towards the scene, stopping himself. Blood pools were every, the crimson colour once more staining his eyes and the haunting red smiley face drawn expertly, delicately, on the wall before him.

There were markers, telling him whose body had been where. He wrinkled his nose in disgust when he saw 'Matthew L.' then 'Mary L.', but when he saw the card that belonged to the Lisbon he knew, his heart stopped, everything in his world did. Outside earlier he had heard that there had been three fatalities. Then another thought appeared in his mind.

The children.

He moved quickly out of the room towards the staircase. He did not waste time climbing to the top; he took a turn to the left, hoping that this was the correct way. Once more his heart thudded in his chest. Lisbon was alive, he knew it. But the children? One of them was gone, possibly the so highly spoken of officers of the law could have easily been so ignorant to not mention another child.

Before him stood a door, open, from where he was standing he could see the blood in the room, on the cream coloured carpet. He wanted to kill this bastard, he killed the children. Patrick just knew it, they were gone and it was his entire fault. It was his fault that they died. More innocent lives lost because of his inability to keep his mouth shut.

But something wasn't right.

When he turned to leave the room he noticed an envelope under the pillow. Slowly he made his way over to it, picking up a tissue in the process, and then opening it delicately. He already knew whom it was from.

Dear Mister Jane,

I almost missed dear Madison; she was as beautiful as her vibrant aunt.

Good luck to you.

Sincerely,

Red John

What about Ray?

Folding up the letter into his jacket, he scanned the room once more. Everything seemed too perfect. Did Red John just not remember that Ray existed? Maybe he couldn't find him, which he hoped.

"Ray?" he called out, nothing, "Raymond Lisbon," the child was in this room, scared no doubt, "It's Patrick," he was certain that the boy would know who he was.

Out of the corner of his eye, the suitcase at the foot of the bed moved. Clearly startled, Patrick made his way over to it, unzipping and pulling it open. There lay a little boy, covered in his sister's blood.

"The sa-same M-m-mister Patrick that hurt my sissy?" there was crystal like tears in his eyes, vibrant blue eyes, no doubt from his mother. Of course, Maddie had called him, Red John had heard her, and Ray assumes that he did it.

"No, your Aunt Tessie's friend," the boy wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and sniffled, "I'm here to help you," he outstretched his hand, the boy shook his head, his shaggy dark brown locks falling into his face.

"Mommy told me to, um, not talk to stra-a," there was a slight pause, Ray was thinking, "Strangeries."

"I'm not a stranger."

Ray shrugged his shoulders, "That is w-what they all say."

…

Patrick walked down the steps carrying the boy; Ray was now clinging onto him, not wanting to go over to the paramedics who were waiting for him. The boy turned and started shouting in fear, hoping that 'Mister Patrick' will never leave him. Patrick found himself making a promise he was not sure he could keep, but he would try, already he knew that Ray would forever be scared, having nightmares that his sister was slaughtered before him by a bad guy who he thinks is another 'Mister Patrick'.

"We'll take care of him."

Patrick spoke up, wanting his voice to be heard, "We'll like to go over to the hospital, that is where his aunt should be," the woman nodded.

"Are you going to ride with the boy?"

He nodded, "Yes."

All together, the ride was not long. With the sirens and lights, they were there in six minutes. Yes, he checked almost every second hoping greatly to see Lisbon alive. He just knew it, a 'Jane hunch' as she and Minelli called them. There was no way she was dead, Red John will be able to taunt him more by injuring her instead of killing her, she would have scars that he would see.

Doctors took Ray into a private room almost immediately, to be checked over once more, after he was given a mild sedative, he needed his rest more than anything right now, to let his tired little body and mind recuperate from the initial shock of what had happened.

Patrick walked over to the front desk, leaning on it slightly and flashing a heart warming smile to the head nurse, "Hi, I'm Patrick," she looked up at him, giving him an annoyed look, "I'm looking for a Teresa Lisbon, she was brought into the ER I believe."

The woman sighed and turned to her computer, her eyes lit up, Lisbon must be fairly famous around here for being the first person to survive Red John, and everyone must know "Room 306, she's strong."

He was walking away when he whispered one thing, "I know," then his pocket suddenly felt a lot heavier. His hand went down into it, clutching her silver cross. She had given it to him before she left to Chicago.

He pushed open the door and moved towards her sleeping form. The swell of her belly was evident, he smiled, the baby was alive, he then looked over and saw the monitor, and their baby's heartbeat was strong. He smiled and placed a hand on her abdomen, right under her belly button and lightly rubbed, like he always did. He heard a beep; Lisbon's heard rate went up.

A smirk was now seen on his face.

There was another delay, I'm sorry, please review =)