Oh, yes, the damn disclaimer: seriosuly, do we really have to do it? Because, Jeez, if I'd own them, I'd not be here writing it, I'd be the writeer of a TV Shows and, well, we'd have the LIsbon romance for real...meanwhile, I just "write, draw, create, dream, hope and believe in Bruno, waiting for him to be blessed bu the light of reason..." (No, this discalimer isn't mine, it belongs to one fo the girls who wite Mentalist fiction on the italian site efpfiction, but don't tell me many of you don't share this vision...).

All the merits for this story in particular, though, go to me and, especially, PetiteJ: she gaves me not only the prompt, but ended up as co-autor- she provided lines, and, moslty, plot ideas for all the times I was having a hard toime figuring soemthing out or havoing writer's block...

I'd like to say thnak you to everyone who review the last chapter and to all of you who put this on favs or alerts, it menas the world to me, really!

And now, here we go with chapter 5, the penultimate one (which is, moslty, set in the past)

5.

"Since I managed to make Worthington confess how he has killed his wife in order to get her money, in virtue of the fact that you had, instead, arrested her son and weren't listening to me yet again, I'd say that closed case pizza is entirely on you all this time" as he joins the rest of the SCU team inside the bullpen, Patrick Jane claps his hands, satisfied, grinning like the cat got the canary.

"We can't have closed case pizza yet" Rigsby's voice is broken, and he looks in the void, he seems lost and sad and desperate, and his teary eyes seem the ones of a poor lost puppy as the agonizing words leave his mouth.

"Lisbon's not here yet – it's Cho quick answer, and it would be his only answer at all, if Jane wasn't sending him a questioning look that screams that he'll never let it go of this if the agent will not talk soon – she went to the son to apologize"

"Actually, I'm a bit worried. Lisbon left two hours ago, and Richardson leaves just 10 minutes from here, she should already be back." Preoccupation is clear into Grace's voice as she hesitantly speaks, with her green eyes barely visible above the monitor of her computer.

"Richardson is eating her with his eyes since they met, hell, he didn't even stop while she was interrogating him. Let me tell you something: I bet he made his move, and now they are somewhere secluded having fun" Rigsby doesn't seem to register Cho's slightly changed expression (from relaxed to plain angry), nor he seems to understand that the look Grace is sending at his address means something in the line of "I'd punch you where it hurts the most if I was at your side", because he has just been too insensitive, because, even if Jane and Lisbon may not be aware of what is going on between the two of them, the team knows it too well, they know there's something between the two of them, that it goes beyond simple friendship.

"Have you tried to call her? – Grace mimics a no with her head as Jane asks her that – both cell and home, I guess – she nods – nothing from Richardson as well?"

"Yes, but we don't have his cell, so, maybe, he is just out celebrating" she clarifies, in professional tone.

"of course he does, with Lisbon!" there's really something about that man, Grace thinks, and wonders how she can still loves him, with him being so dense…

"No, she'd never do that, not this week, at least. Lisbon is a strong and devoted Catholic, even if she does her best to hide it, and like every good Catholics, she swims into the sense of guilt. She'd never allowed herself to be happy around the time of her mother's death. – Jane walks through the room, arms sometimes crossed, sometimes in his hair, sometimes in his pockets, sometimes busy scratching a little his neck, busy talking more to himself than to the others – she was already feeling guilty for her own reasons, then, she almost sent to jail an innocent. My hypothesis is that she is at her place, crying herself to sleep and stubbornly refusing to answer our calls.

"You are going to check on her" when he hears Cho's statement, Jane is already gone, in the elevator, in direction of the park.

While driving in his car, Jane was relaxed, sure that Lisbon was just a bit bad for the time of the year, but mostly fine, but when he reaches her apartment, he goes into shock. He gasps and his breathing is dying in his throat, and suddenly it is seven years prior all over again.

Without reading the note stuck on the door, without noticing the cross pendant accompanying it, he flies into the apartment, and the only thing he can think of is if there's a god, he'll kill me her and now. He almost collapses on the cold pavement in tears as he sees the bloody smiley painted on the wall- there's not her body, and he doesn't know if he should be relieves (she is still alive) or scared (he has her). There's something, though, made of flash and bones and blood, a head, a head that seems it belonged to a pony, and even if it's not their pony, the not-so-hidden message is not lost to him.

He takes a big breath, his brain finally deciding to catch up with him, as much as it could in such a situation, and without giving a damn about forensic, he tears the piece of paper away from the note, reading it again and again, until the words will be forever burned into his memory, until he'll live, just like the first time.

Dear Mr. Jane, I've noticed that you've recently switched your attention to our beloved Agent Lisbon. I'm disappointed in you, I thought you learned your lesson a long time ago, I thought you had understood I'm the only one who's supposed to have your attention. But I was wrong, and now, of you don't want to see another person you care so much for dying, you'll have to do as I say. If you want to see Miss Lisbon again, alive, come, alone, where all it started and you'll face me if you dare… :) [author's note: remember, even if I can actually make a red smily on Word, I can't here, so, let's imagine it's an actual smily and that it's red, shall we? ]

Looking at the smiley signature, Jane tightens his teeth, feeling the bile rising, and, without turning back, without closing the door, he runs towards his light blue Citroen DS, parked just in front of her apartment, the engine still running. I thought it was going to be quick. I thought I was going to drive her mad and happy altogether, making her rolling her eyes. I was planning to lift her from the pavement, up into my arms, bridal style, and discharge her into the car, because I knew she was going to fight me over a night out. I wasn't planning this. It will be my entire fault, if she'll die, her blood will be on my hands… I killed my family, Bosco and his team, even Kristina… and now, Lisbon's life is in danger because of me… but this time, I will make no mistakes.

Jane already knows where he is going, and it's not the place where Red John stroke for the first time; the letter is about something more personal (otherwise, he'd never took Lisbon), the letter is about where it all started for them, the letter is about the place where Red John become his nightmare and nemesis.

Red John is in his Malibu home, and is going to torture Lisbon there, just the way he tortured his wife and daughter.

As Jane thought, the doors are unlocked and open, giving him a tail to follow- not that Jane doesn't know where to look; giving Red John's self-centered and showinistic attitude, he'll be in the same room where he left his trademark signature years before.

And, in fact, it's in the room that used to a bedroom that Jane finds him. the killer is giving him shoulders, busy admiring his "masterpiece" as he once called it, skimming over it with his right hand, no gloves this time, with the same 3 fingers he used to race the image, and from the way he inhales, Jane can sense that he is proud of himself, yet sad, because he thinks he'll never do something as good as this, something as perfect.

"Hello, Mr. Jane" he doesn't turn, but he doesn't need to. Jane knows that unaltered voice, he'd recognize him everywhere. He has met him already, more than once.

"Brett Partridge…" there's just a small hint of surprise in his voice as he recognizes the forensic investigator standing in front of him.

"In blood and bones – he finally turns to face Jane, satisfied, happy, proud, grinning like the maniac he is, his knife in his right – you don't seem surprised, Mr. Jane…"

"Oh, please, Brett, don't let my expression deceive you, I am indeed surprised that you and Red John are the same... I'm not surprised that you are a criminal, though. I've always told Lisbon you enjoyed crime scenes a way too much. But I have to say, it explains a lot of things. After all, we always assumed Red John was working from the outside in, while it was only what you wanted us to believe, since you were working from the inside…"

After years and years playing cat and mouse, they are finally facing each other, but Jane has come prepared, with a gun, ready and steady in his right hand. He hates himself for the mere thought of having to use a fire weapon, there's something about using them that disgusts him, and disgust and fear were what he felt when he had to take a life. But I did it to save Teresa's life; I'd do everything for her.

In that moment, Brett shifts position a bit, revealing, on Jane's mattress, the form of Teresa Lisbon, and his breath dies in his throat. It doesn't help the fact that he can see she is still alive, her chest rhythmically moving showing she is still breathing, because the breathing is too irregular for her own good, and she is so pale… it's probably a miracle she is still alive, so many wounds, so much blood, and the monster is skimming over her neck with his dagger, grinning, his eyes locked on Jane, while Jane's ones are locked on Teresa's red nails.

"You see, Mr. Jane, if you now kill me, you'll get your revenge, but at what cost? She'll eventually have to arrest you, sending you to die in jail; she'll end broken hearted, you'll lose her, you'll be broken and unhappy and shattered, allowing me to win. But, if you don't kill me, I'll kill you, slowly, making you see what I planned for our Agent Lisbon… so, as you see, either way I win."

"What about I don't kill you and I don't allow you to kill us either? – Jane drops the gun, and, sure of him, starts walking towards the killer who poisoned his existence contrary to common belief, I like keeping myself in good shape, so I don't think I'll have too many problems taking you down. IF I'll need to, that is it."

"Really, Jane?" he laughs in his face, his arms wide open.

"Let's say he is not as stupid as you think"

They hear Cho's voice, and everything happens in a blur. It's in a blur that Red John turns towards Lisbon, his grip in the dagger stronger. It's in a blur that Jane jumps on him, it's in a blur they fight, their bodies melting, making even their best sniper, Cho, unable to find his target, it's in a blur their break the glass of the large window, falling from the first floor to the seaside, and it's in a blur that everything goes black for Patrick Jane.

(Present)

"When I woke up few hours later…- she says between tears- I didn't know what I was supposed to feel. I was relieved because you hadn't killed him, because he was no longer free, because he was in an irreversible coma so he wasn't a treat any longer, but you weren't' waking up, and I know I was selfish, but I needed you, and… and I so wanted you, Patrick…"

Without adding further words, Patrick kisses away her tears and .gently rubbing her shoulders he guides her on their bed; with Lisbon in his arms, he closes his eyes, and he cuddles her, limbs entangled.

He knows he can't fight Morpheus any longer, as comfortable as he is in her arms, but he hopes that, come morning, he'll still be dreaming.