Title: Mine
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Jane, Red John, Lisbon
Summary: Jane has Red John cornered.
Notes: Prompt: Mine
Disclaimer: The Mentalist, however, is not mine.

Mine

I hold the gun to his head, his forehead to be precise. I know it'll be a quicker, cleaner death than the one I have dreamt of for him for all these years. But I'm pressed for time and at least it'll be done.

Red John is mine.

He is standing right in front of me. I can see the whites of his eyes. Despite the fact he can feel the cold metal of the barrel of the gun, he looks perfectly serene. Like he has accepted his fate. It's strange; I expected him to fight more than this.

My finger rests on the trigger. It's trembling; I can't help it. The movement is slight enough not to be of any risk of setting the weapon off, though. The moment Red John dies is my decision, now.

There's a screech of tyres from outside. An authoritative voice can be heard over the nervous whispers of the others. The walls to this shack are obviously paper-thin. I know the voice; I know all of them. How did they catch up with me so quickly? I suppose it's always been a terrible habit of mine underestimating them; underestimating her.

It's not the time to be thinking of that, though. It's now or never.

I don't even notice them creeping into the room. She walks over, relatively calmly and asks Red John to place his hands on his head. He complies. Before I know it, she's handcuffed Red John and Cho and Rigsby have lead him away.

I couldn't do it. I just couldn't.

"You can lower the gun now, Patrick."

Her voice is soothing, calming. She never uses my given name and that's probably the exact reason I obeyed, rather than shooting mindlessly at the wall in frustration. The gun falls to my feet instead and she catches me as my knees give way. She may be small, but she's strong. Stronger than I'll ever be, at least.

"It's over."

I nod dumbly and Teresa Lisbon slowly, carefully, takes me outside.

Later, in the office and we should be celebrating closing the case. It's the big one; a career defining one for all of us. And somehow, we've all managed to get through it unscathed. Pride just doesn't feel right, not now. The bullpen, instead, is sombre.

Lisbon catches my gaze and nods slightly. Justice will be served. Her way, at least.