Title: Suffering is the Best Punishment
Author: Shannon - shannyfish
Disclaimer: I do not own "The Mentalist" or its characters, CBS does. This is merely for entertainment purposes only.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Takes Place during Season Two. Red John attacks Jane using his own twisted type of psychological warfare.
Warning: Severe spoilers for season one.

Chapter 2 – "Despair"

Author's Note: Thanks to all who reviewed the first chapter! I truly appreciate the comments and suggestions!Okay, CBS so needs to release "The Mentalist" Season One DVD before September...it would be far more helpful to me, since I only have two episodes saved...

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"Your lost friends are not dead, but gone before, advanced a stage or two upon that road which you must travel in the steps they trod."- Aristophanes

CBI Headquarters

Two weeks.

He'd thought about leaving the CBI. To look for Lisbon on his own, but it seemed like there was nowhere to look. When Red John was involved, there were not a lot of clues to follow. There was no use. He could use the CBI and the team...at least for now. Cho had been temporarily put in charge of the team, though it was mainly in title only. Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt worked well as a trio team. He had mainly stayed on the side lines. He was just waiting for his turn. His time. His opening. So far, all he'd done was wait.

Two weeks.

Jane stared at the ceiling and tried to think, he thought that if he thought hard enough he could think of something...something that could lead them to Lisbon. After two weeks, they still weren't positive if she was dead or alive. There had been no body...or body parts. The coroner had said that there had been enough blood that it could have been that she'd been killed there, but they still couldn't be one hundred percent sure, after all, the sleeping bag had absorbed the blood and some of it had been used to paint Red John's calling sign.

Two weeks.

No answers and Jane felt like he was dying inside. He'd been having more dreams...nightmares. The nightmares he was used to, the ones about coming home and finding his wife and child...dead. And then the new ones. The bright orange tent with the face, the blood soaked sleeping bag, hearing Lisbon calling for help, and then going out into the wooded area and never being able to find her.

He couldn't believe that she was dead. He couldn't fathom another loss. Jane had just finally realized that he could love again. Not only that he could, but he had. That he loved Theresa Lisbon. He hadn't wanted to move on, but somehow he had unconsciously.

"How are you doing today?"

The voice forced him to snap out of his thoughts and he turned his head to see Van Pelt standing there. Everyday she'd ask the same thing; try to put on a smile for him. Today her red hair was down, framing her face. She had on dark slacks and jacket with a warm spring green shirt. Every day, just like the one before. It wasn't comforting.

"I could be better," he told her honestly. He hated lying, though normally he did, just for Van Pelt. She was trying so hard to be the team's own morale officer that he hated for her to think that she was failing. It was what was holding her together, her façade.

"How about some tea?"

Jane smiled and shook his head as he sat up. "No, thank you." Normally, he found his tea quite calming, but it didn't have its normal effect any longer. It was a bit depressing. He kept on his smile, just for Van Pelt. "Do you have any idea what's on the agenda today?"

"Not yet."

"Let me know when you do."

He always hoped that it was a link to Red John. A clue. Something. Anything. All he could do was think about what Red John could be doing to Lisbon. The more time that passed, the less hope he truly had that she was alive. Normally, he would shoot down such hope, but he knew that Red John wanted to torture him. Lisbon was his way of doing this.

She wasn't dead.

Not yet at least.

That didn't comfort him. Jane just wanted Cho to tell them that the agenda was to search the state of California for their boss, though he knew that it would never happen. The CBI didn't have the time or resources to do such a thing for just one person.

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CBI Headquarters

Two weeks. One day.

Lisbon was still missing.

No Lisbon. No word. No answers. No other clues. No nothing. No. No. No. No. No. Jane wanted to scream "No" that they couldn't just sit around and not look for her. He felt like he was going crazy...again. At the thought, he pulled in a deep breath, hoping for calm. It didn't work well. Maybe this was what he wanted. Red John wanted him to lose it again.

"We've got a case," Cho announced.

Jane didn't move. Mainly because he was too comfortable, even though he was absolutely miserable. Cho wasn't going to announce anything he wanted to hear. The case had nothing to do with Lisbon. The case had nothing to do with Red John. Therefore, he had no interest.

"Jane," Van Pelt called.

She was trying to be kind, polite even, just in case he hadn't heard Cho. He had Cho. He still wasn't moving. There really was no reason. He felt like he'd lost all motivation in the world. Yesterday had been hard, but today was so much harder. He wasn't going to make the day even more unbearable by pretending that there was hope, that Cho's case announcement was something that he could work on.

Red John cases were all he could work on.

He was surprised that he hadn't been asked to go on "vacation" in order to properly take in what had happened. He knew it was coming, probably tomorrow. They'd probably recruit Van Pelt to do it. Jane would be ready, though he knew he wouldn't be able to defeat her with his words this time. He'd have to take the week off. Come back and pretend that it had helped.

"I'm not going," Jane finally spoke up.

"Why not?" Rigsby asked.

He continued to stare at the ceiling. Rigsby sounded disappointed, almost hurt. In truth, he wasn't the only one suffering; honestly he was the only one wallowing in it. Jane placed his hand so that it rested over his eyes. "I have a migraine," he lied. "I think I'm just going to go home and lie down."

"Take something for it, too," Van Pelt said.

"You're lying," Cho challenged.

Jane ignored him. He tried to act as if the lights hurt his eyes as he sat up and then got to his feet. He could see that Rigsby looked as if he was being abandoned, Van Pelt looked worried, and Cho just looked irritated. Yes, he was letting down the team, but he wasn't in a way. He was saving them from his miserable disposition for the rest of the day. Maybe he wouldn't come in tomorrow. Maybe he'd stay home and wallow in his miserable existence there.

"I will take something," he told Van Pelt with a slight nod before he headed out.

He was pathetic.

Jane knew that. He couldn't even pass the hours anymore on his couch. He didn't even have to do anything, but lie there. He could sleep, stare up at the ceiling, stare off at the people at their desks, drink his tea (and he didn't even have to make it, Van Pelt would make it for him if he wanted), or talk to Rigsby.

As he headed out of the building, he felt as if Lisbon's memory was darkening, as if she were becoming lost in the mist of his memory. He may not have known her for very long, but he'd known her. Theresa Lisbon was a good woman, beautiful in all ways. Her eyes were his favorite; they were beautiful and changed with her mood. She was tough, but also could be tender. She cared.

His step quickened as the memory of her brought tears to his eyes. It had been the first time all day he'd felt like crying. It was harder this way. Red John had found the worse way to pull at him. Not knowing. It was cruel, harsh, and severe. It was something that at times you could find hope and then at other times all hope had to be abandoned to despair. This was one of those times.

For all he knew, Theresa Lisbon was dead. Why would he keep her alive? It would cause more trouble than just hiding or keeping the body. She was probably decomposing somewhere. That thought just made him sick. For her to never be found, to be identified. Lisbon had family, they should know her fate. Even if it was death.

Death.

It was permanent.

It was cruel.

It was heartless.

It was despair.

With his car in sight, he sucked in breath and tried to keep his tears at bay. Jane just wanted to make it to his car before they assaulted him. Suddenly he remembered when Lisbon had allowed him to drive her around in his car. She'd told him that that had been real trust. The tears flowed freely as his key entered the keyhole in the car door and he turned it.

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Jane Residence

It was something that had greeted him on the worst day of his life. Now, it greeted him every day. He trudged into his bedroom and started to unpeel his jacket from his body. He let it drop where it may and made his way to the mattress on the floor that served as his bed. Jane let himself drop down onto it. He just sat there for several minutes in silence, just staring at nothing.

His shoes came off once he'd snapped out of it. It was enough so that he could lie down comfortably. He turned in the bed and laid down, his head hitting the pillow. Something moved. Something that wasn't him. Sitting up, he looked around. He had heard the tiny sound of the movement, but had also seen something out of the corner of his eye.

Lying on the floor next to the mattress bed was a tiny silver colored chain that had a delicate small cross on it. He stared at it for a long time. It was familiar. It brought memories to the surface. It brought pain and despair. It brought hope.

Lisbon.

Red John had been in his house again. He'd purposefully left it for him. Why? To tease? To motivate him? Jane wasn't sure. He wasn't even sure how he felt at the exact moment. Anger slowly rose. What was Red John trying to communicate with him? Thoughts flooded his brain and made him dizzy.

Lisbon.

He stared at the tiny cross that rested in the palm of his hand. Shiny silver against the pink palm of his hand. She wore it every day. It was a simple, small accessory, but one he was sure meant something to her. He was sending a message, but was it one of life or death?

Lisbon.

Jane had to believe that she was alive. He couldn't bear her death. Why would Red John push him on if only to find her remains? It wasn't Red John's style. In a way, Jane saw it as a warning and it made him want to leave the team. To protect him. No one else would die because of him.

Lisbon.

She couldn't be dead.

He couldn't bear it.

If Red John wanted to take someone, he wanted to be the one taken.

Patrick Jane.

That wasn't the way he operated though. He continued to stare at the tiny cross. Tears cascaded down his cheeks and eventually splattered what he held in his hand. He tilted his head upward to the constant reminder of Red John. The smiley face drawn in blood on his wall. Why wasn't he released? Hadn't he paid more than enough for what Red John felt he owed?

Let him die.

He loved her.

And it killed him.

Wrapping his hand around the cross, he finally released his sobs and let them roll out of him. His head tilted forward until his forehead came into contact with his clutched hand. The rocking was unconscious. Several minutes passed and his eyes burned, his cheeks were dry with salt. He couldn't cry anymore. He didn't have it in him. His throat was dry and burned from the sobbing. His body couldn't grieve any longer...at least for the time being. It felt as if a larger weight had been pressed upon him.

This was why people committed suicide, he suddenly realized. Sometimes the world was too hard to bear. He knew that that was not the way out. If he died, then Red John was surely kill Lisbon if she was still alive. His death would only bring about more death. There was no justice or fairness in that.

He pulled his legs up and curled them up under him as he laid on his side, his head hit the pillow and he tried to sleep. Sleep would renew him enough to grieve again. He pulled the hand that tightly held the cross to his chest and then placed his other hand over it, to hold it firmly in place.

A piece of Lisbon.

Hope.

She was alive.

Tomorrow was a new day. He'd have to keep from wallowing on the couch. He'd have to act optimistic and happy. He'd have to greet Van Pelt with a smile and "good morning, how are you this morning?" before she could him. He had to be exactly what he didn't feel. He needed to do it for her. He needed to do it in order to stay on the team. He already knew that it was coming and if he looked like he would still be a beneficial part of the team, then it would go away. At least for the time being.

Tomorrow there was hope.

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TBC...