A/N: Thank you for all your great reviews! And thank you to all the people following and adding this story to their favourites, I really do appreciate it!

I don't particularly like saying too much when I post chapters as I feel that you, the reader, should just (hopefully) enjoy the ride and I don't want to spoil whatever twist or surprise I happen to put in which was why there were no 'warnings' in the previous chapter. I'm sorry if that upsets some people but, hey, if it gets to you enough to review, then it's all good.

Hope you all enjoy the next part…

CHAPTER 3

As soon as the shots were fired, Rigsby turned on the hallway lights and hurried towards Cho and Jane. "You OK?" he asked as he came to stand next to his colleague.

"Yeah," Cho replied as he dropped to one knee and grabbed the consultant by his shoulders to look into his glazed eyes. "Jane? Jane? Can you hear me?" When he didn't even get a flicker of response, he gave the man a firm shake. Nothing. "He's in shock."

"He's not the only one," Rigsby replied with feeling. He glanced at the bedroom but had to look away quickly.

Cho ignored him and turned to the downed serial killer to check his throat for a pulse. It was weak but it was there. Unhappy with himself for not finishing the job, he knew he'd have to swallow down the disappointment and get the murderer help. Life just wasn't fair at times. "He's still alive."

"Bastard," Rigsby choked out, his gaze gravitating again to the open doorway of Lisbon's bedroom and the carnage that lay within. "I say let him die."

"Me too, but the law's the law."

"I won't tell if you won't," the tall man assured him.

"Lisbon would've wanted it done right," Cho replied as he stood up. "We owe her that."

Rigsby dragged his eyes away from the bloody tableau then sighed and nodded, knowing his friend was right but hating the idea of giving any kind of help to the man that had butchered their boss. They suddenly heard the sound of distant sirens, slowly getting louder and louder as they neared.

Cho glanced over at the bedroom door knowing he couldn't put off going in there any longer. "You stay here with Jane. Call Van Pelt and make sure she gets the paramedic's up here as soon as they arrive," he directed flatly as moved away. "I'll go in and…" He trailed off, unable to complete his thought.

Rigsby signalled that he understood the need for someone to make an I.D. and was just glad it wasn't him. Sitting down on the floor next to the consultant, he pulled out his cellphone to make the call while keeping an eye on Red John and taking a closer look at Jane's wounded arm. As he spoke to Van Pelt, rapidly explaining all that had taken place, he waved a hand in front of Jane's face but the blond simply stared straight ahead without expression.

It was unnerving. He wasn't used to Jane being so quiet and motionless. He just hoped the man was still in there somewhere because they couldn't do with losing him too.

Cho stepped into the softly lit bedroom and stopped for a moment to gather his composure. He'd never balked at doing his job before and he wasn't about to now…he just needed a few seconds. Pulling his shoulders back, he straightened up then walked over to the other side of the bed and looked down at her body. He hesitated briefly again, then reached out to slowly pull back some of the blood-matted hair from her face.

His body sagged as relief flowed through him and he let out a long breath. Letting go of the unknown woman's hair, he strode back out of the room and almost smiled.

"It's not her," he told Rigsby, his voice carrying a slight waver. He cleared his throat and tried again. "It's not Lisbon."

Rigsby looked stunned. "What? Then where is she? And who's that?"

"I don't know, but he does," he said, gesturing to the murderer who, as if knowing he were being talked about, suddenly let out a soft groan of pain and a weak cough as he moved his head. A thin trail of blood started to seep out of the side of his mouth and rolled down his cheek.

The sound of the sirens drew even nearer, drowning out the labouring breaths of the killer that had started once he'd regained some consciousness. Cho knew time was of the essence if they were to get any information before he was taken away. Knowing there was only one person who would be able to elicit a response from the badly injured killer he knelt back down in front of Jane and tapped his face a couple of times.

"Jane! Snap out of it. Jane!"

When there was still no response, Cho drew his arm back and gave the consultant's cheek a hefty slap. The smack echoed loudly in the corridor and even Rigsby winced at the blow. It had the desired effect though when Jane eye's blinked rapidly as though coming out of a trance.

"Can you hear me, Jane?"

The blond nodded, fighting through the thick fog that had surrounded him and back to full awareness. "Yes," he murmured. "I can hear you, Cho."

"Good. It's not Lisbon in there and Red John is still alive, I need you to get him to talk. Now. We don't have much time. Can you do that?"

The words were delivered so quickly and matter-of-factly that they didn't quite register in Jane's still, slightly muddled brain. But when they did everything suddenly came back into sharp focus.

"It's not her?" he questioned, staring at Cho warily as he tried to get a read on him.

"No."

The simple, honest answer had Jane briefly shut his eyes and heave a shuddering sigh of relief.

"I know you've got a lot to take in but the paramedics and half of Sac PD and CBI are going to be here in a few minutes. They'll take Red John away so you need to get answers now, Jane," Cho reminded him, an edge of urgency colouring the normally unflappable agent's tone.

Jane immediately opened his eyes and sat up straight, giving the other man a nod. He could do this; he could lock down all the rampant emotions he was feeling and focus on the now. Calm. Composed.

Turning his head, he looked down at Red John lying beside him and found that the irony of the situation wasn't lost on him. After years and years of plotting how he'd end the serial killers life and distancing himself from those he cared about in order to ensure that happened, he was now hoping against hope that the bastard didn't die because his desperate desire to find Lisbon, shockingly, far outweighed his thirst for revenge.

If ever he needed confirmation of just how deep he'd fallen for his prickly boss, there it was in bright red lettering a mile high.

Shifting onto his knees he braced his left arm at the side of the evil killers head then in leaned closer. "Where is she, you son of a bitch?" he asked, his soft tone belying the harshness of his words. "Where's Lisbon?"

Red John's eyes flickered a few times then finally stayed open, latching onto Jane's gaze. He remained silent apart from his harsh breathing.

"I know she isn't dead. You wouldn't have set this whole thing up if she was," he continued, watching the other man's eyes carefully for a reaction. There was a tiny flicker of…triumph and Jane leaned in even closer as he started to realise something. "This was the start of something bigger, wasn't it? A long con. Just like I did to you. I took your girl, so you took mine…" He trailed off as the murderer's earlier words came back to haunt him. Shaking his head, he gave the killer a cruel smile. "Well, you failed because you're dead and I'm alive and I will find Lisbon, whether you talk to me or not. And once I do find her, I will forget about you."

As he spoke, Red John had slowly smiled back at him as if relishing what he'd heard him say. Knowing there was no use in restraining himself anymore, Jane finally let some of his anger free and placed his right hand on the killers bloody chest then pushed down hard as he made to stand up. It was a vicious, pointless act that the consultant enjoyed even though it didn't do his own injury any favours. It was worth it.

Red John's breath stuttered at the agonising pain and he closed his eyes again, beginning to wheeze. Satisfied, Jane started to rise from his kneeling position but Red John's hand suddenly shot out and grabbed onto the lapel of his jacket, holding it surprisingly tightly.

The blond gasped, caught unawares but went willingly as the killer pulled his favourite puppet on a string back closer to him one last time. "Pat…rick," he rasped, his voice barely above a strained whisper. Jane moved in further, turning his head so that his ear was near the killer's mouth in order to hear what he had to say.

The sirens were right outside now and they could hear the sounds of people entering the apartment.

"Jane," Cho cautioned, taking a small step forward. It appeared the paramedics wouldn't make it in time anyway. Every second counted now.

Jane pulled back from Red John and the hand on his jacket flopped to the ground as the killer let out a long, rasping sigh of death. The consultant slowly stood up and looked down at the dead man, his expression pained.

"What did he say?" asked Rigsby.

Jane was prevented from answering when there was a flurry of activity as policemen and paramedics suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs and rushed over to them. Cho took charge of the situation and they moved out of the way to allow the medic's to work fruitlessly on Red John's body.

Jane watched everything impassively, only acquiescing to Cho's urging to get his arm looked at once the serial killer was officially pronounced dead. With the merest hint of a sad smile touching his lips, he headed out of the apartment without a single glance backwards, Cho's, "And don't even think about leaving," ringing in his ears.

Once outside, he inhaled sharply as though gasping for much needed air and looked around himself in growing panic. The words Red John had spoken to him before he'd died kept running over and over in his brain and every which way he looked at it, it always seemed to come back to the same answer. He drew in another long breath and rubbed his hands over his face as his mind rejected his conclusion time and again. He wasn't going to lose her that way. Not her. Not his strong, caring, angry, lovely Lisbon. He couldn't.

"Jane? Are you OK?" came Van Pelt's voice as she gently touched his arm.

He looked back at her a little wildly and determinedly reigned back in his control when he saw her concern. "I'm fine," he said after a few seconds. "It's…just my arm…"

Van Pelt screwed up her face in mild disgust when she saw the wound and gestured towards an ambulance. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Jane followed behind, head down as he concentrated on his breathing. Bringing to bear all his years of practise at perfectly honing his skills, he was almost back to his normal self by the time the reached the paramedics. Almost…but not quite.

Van Pelt sat beside him in the ambulance as he silently allowed the female medic to take off his jacket and cut the arm of his shirtsleeve to enable her better access. He felt a flash of irritation at the careless destruction of the garment then gritted his teeth at the first dab of antiseptic. They were nearly done when Cho and Rigsby appeared by the open doors.

"How you feeling?" asked Cho as he stood, hands on hips, taking everything in.

"OK," Jane replied, wincing slightly at the sting of the antiseptic in a particularly deep part of the cut. "But for some reason my cheek is really hurting." He moved his jaw left to right with a grimace and Rigsby looked down, holding back a smile.

"Huh," came Cho's succinct response causing Jane to eye him suspiciously. "So, what did Red John say to you?"

The consultant looked down as his body jolted slightly at the direct question. Trust Cho not to beat about the bush. "She's gone," he whispered sadly.

"What?" Cho queried, puzzled.

Jane sighed and looked back up at the agent, the misery plain to see on his face. "That's what he said. 'She's gone.'"

Cho folded his arms and stared at him for a moment, simply processing his words. "I'm guessing he wasn't just stating the obvious?"

Jane shook his head then closed his eyes against the unexpected moisture that threatened to spill and bowed his head again. "I think he's done to her what he did to Kristina. You should start the search at all the mental health facilities in the immediate area," he advised, his voice breaking slightly. "He would have wanted to keep her close by, just for the fun of it."

Van Pelt and Rigsby let out a horrified gasp while Cho muttered a curse and ran a hand through his cropped hair in an uncharacteristic show of agitation.

"You're going to need stitches," the paramedic interrupted apologetically. "We need to get you to the hospital."

Jane didn't even respond.

Cho looked at Van Pelt. "You go with him and bring him back to the CBI when you're done, OK? Don't leave him alone."

The redhead nodded and gently took hold of the consultant's hand to offer what little comfort she could. He gave her hand a slight squeeze back in acknowledgment then the paramedic jumped in next to the blond and pulled the doors closed behind her.

Cho and Rigsby watched the ambulance drive off then turned away, thinking over what Jane had said.

"You really think the boss is catatonic in some institution somewhere?" Rigsby asked in disbelief.

Cho shook his head. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "She hasn't made any contact so something's preventing her and it's either what Jane thinks or Red John's got her tied up somewhere remote and left her to die. Neither option has the potential to end well."

Rigsby nodded his agreement. "I'll go back to the office and make a start on those phone calls."

"OK, I'll just finish up here."

Rigsby hurried over to the SUV and got in. As he drove back to the CBI headquarters he couldn't help producing a mental picture of Lisbon sitting in a small, white room, just vacantly staring into space. He gave a shudder and couldn't help the fleeting thought that maybe finding her dead in her apartment would've been better after all.

xTheMentalistx

The police car came to a slow halt by the side of the road and Officer Meyer alighted from the driver's side to take a look at the vehicle that he'd pulled up behind. The evening air was warm and his hand rested lightly on the handle of the firearm at his hip as he walked over to the driver's window and looked in.

An auburn haired woman was slumped back in her seat with her eyes closed.

"Ma'am? Ma'am? Can you hear me?"

A low groan met his ears and the woman moved her head, a frown marring her pretty features as she slowly woke up.

"Are you OK, Ma'am?" the officer tried again.

Her eyes opened slowly, revealing their colour to be a soft green and she looked about herself in confusion before noticing the cop. "Where am I?" she asked, somewhat croakily.

"You're just outside of Diablo. Can I see your driver's licence please?"

The woman nodded then retrieved the licence from her purse and handed to the policeman.

"Sarah Parsons; Sacramento," he read out before turning away and radioing in her details. A couple of minutes later he was leaning by her window again and handed back her licence. "You can't sleep here, I'm afraid, Ms. Parsons. There's a motel a couple of miles down the road. I can follow you if you're tired."

Sarah nodded, still feeling a little disorientated and as though something wasn't quite right, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Determinedly brushing it aside, she started the engine and headed off down the road with the policeman in tow. It was probably just some residual guilt over how she'd left things with her ex. Whatever it was, it could take a number. She'd just gotten out of a bad relationship and now she was heading to a new town with a new job and a new life.

She was looking forward to it and if there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that she was never going to set foot in Sacramento ever again.

END CHAPTER 3