A/N: 6! Once again, a big thank you and a hug to those who reviewed last chapter. Much love. xx Enjoy!

Chapter 6

Tears ran hot down Lisbon's cheeks as she struggled to stay awake, her head resting on Patrick's thigh as she curled up beside him. She felt terrible. Terrible about her mood...the way she felt hung-over, sick, dizzy. The way she was being selfish enough to throw what Patrick had done for her today, back in his face, by blocking herself in her room with a gun. She could see that she was causing him pain, and yet she couldn't seem to control herself, tell herself to stop this madness.

Maybe she did need Patrick here. Maybe she always needed him here. Maybe it wasn't so much her keeping Patrick in check, but Patrick keeping her in check. Her brain felt like it was just a jumble of loose ends...not leading to anywhere...stopping her mind and body from functioning properly.

Lisbon closed her eyes slowly, squeezing out hot tears onto Patrick's trouser leg.

'I'm sorry...' she murmured, her speech shaken.

'...I know, Lisbon.'

'I guess you were right. I can't be alone.'

Patrick stroked Lisbon's head gently. He didn't reply. He felt like he was in shock. Lisbon feeling like she could turn a gun on herself just wasn't right. He'd seen it before, but that was an act, a perfect act to catch the killer. This was real. So real. And it wasn't right.

'...Did...did you ever end up like this?' Lisbon asked shakily, nuzzling her head into Patrick's leg.

Patrick considered for a moment. Had he ever turned a gun on himself? Yes. Had he ever caused himself physical pain? Yes. Had he been classed as completely unstable? Yes. Pretty much everything he could think of, he'd done. His whole family. His whole family. The reason he lived. His very foundations snatched from underneath him and torn to shreds. At the time, there was barely anything he wasn't willing to do.

He didn't want Lisbon to go the same way.

'I was...worse, Lisbon. Please don't go there. Please don't put yourself in that hole.'

Patrick glanced in the mirror...the broken, smashed mirror which basically represented him. He'd never gotten out of his hole. Not really. Not even with help. There were just some things that couldn't be done. And pulling himself out of there was one of them.

Lisbon nodded slowly. She couldn't even begin to imagine what Patrick's experience must have been like, but she wasn't sure she really wanted to. Life just wasn't fair. It never had been, never would be. Death lingered in the shadows, jumping out from round the next corner without warning. Suffering hung around like a bad smell. It's hard, cold glare an imminent threat to all of mankind. Right now, that glare was fixed on Lisbon, and it was throwing her brain out of sync with her sensibility. She had to stop digging herself deeper into the hole she was stood in.

'Lisbon?'

'Yeah?'

'Promise me something?'

'Maybe.'

'Promise you'll never do something like this again?'

'...Promise.'

'Good...c'mere.'

Patrick motioned for Lisbon to come towards him, flicking his head back slightly. Lisbon stared into his soft green eyes, studied the gentle, encouraging smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

Soon, she was huddled into his chest, her curled up form nuzzling as close to him as possible, searching for some kind of reassurance.

'I...don't want any of the team to know about this, ok?'

'What, you hugging me three times in one day, or yo-' Patrick cut off. He didn't want to say it. Why did he even joke?

'I'm sorry. Yeah, I understand.'

Lisbon nodded confirmation, extending her arm round Patrick's body and holding on tight. Focussing herself on his heart beat, calming her wounded soul. And right then, she had an overwhelming urge to tell Patrick how much she loved him.

Bosco stood situated outside the second suspicious residence for the day. House two: John Hyder's. God, he could feel his heart ready to leap from his chest and do a jig on the hard grey pavement. Best moment of the day. Best moment. Right now, there could actually be a chance of catching Red John inside the building stood before him. Ok, low chance. Clever person like Red John? Fat chance he's going to stay in his house. But all the same...

Bosco took a deep breath and fished his stab vest from the back of the SUV, slipping it over his head and readying his glock. He surveyed the area. Armed backup was securing the outside of the house, skirting around the back. All that was left to do was go in. And that was Sam Bosco, Agent Hicks, Martinez and Dyson's job. Bosco checked his group of agents, making sure they were all ready with stab vests and weapons.

'So, how's our Orange Terry?' Bosco directed at Hicks, a slight smirk on his lips.

'He's being held at CBI, just for now, in case we have any more questions. But paperwork is sorted.'

'Good,' Bosco surveyed his weapon as a final check and looked back up at the team. 'Ready?'

Terry sat in interrogation, twiddling his thumbs quietly. He glanced up at the officer on the other side of the glass wall, guarding the door. He waited. Counting down in his head. Almost waiting to hear the explosion. His heart beat surprisingly soft.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1....

Terry's eyes fluttered closed weakly and he fell from the chair, collapsing on the floor with a smack. The officer spun round on the spot at the sound of clashing chair and table. Seeing Terry out like a light on the floor, he rushed in, kneeling beside the Asian man and quickly checking for a pulse. Suddenly, Terry's eyes flashed open and the officer flinched in shock.

A few seconds later and Terry's elbow was buried in the other mans cheek, sending him stumbling backwards. He was grabbed harshly around the throat before he could even attempt to call out. Terry's iron grip brought the officer gagging, back to the table, where he was slammed down. A wicked smile lifted the corners of Terry's mouth as he brought a long, silver, shining sliver of metal from his pocket. It twinkled dangerously in the soft light. The officer's eyes flew wide open with fear. But nothing was there to stop the blade from swinging down and...

Bosco pushed the already open door, letting it swing gently back.

'CBI!' he called in. 'Anybody home?'

He stepped in cautiously, holding his gun before him, scanning the dimly lit hallway.

If only Sam Bosco had noticed the thin, barely visible red line across the doorway. And as his shoe swiped through it, like a knife through air...the countdown started. The ticking that would not quite reach Bosco's ears until it was too late. The ticking that marked the final few seconds...

Before Bosco could register it, he was lying on his back, his skin black and scorched, his stab vest, his clothes, in shreds. His eyes wide, wouldn't quite close properly. He choked and spluttered, frozen on the scalded grass of the yard, splinters of debris and wood showering down over him. Warm, sticky blood dribbled over his brow and down his ash-covered cheek. He struggled to swallow, his throat dry, pain dancing across his body.

His head fell to one side. Hicks, Dyson, Martinez. There they were, probably in a better condition than him. Bosco had taken the full blast. He tried to speak, but only dry, grinding nonsense fell from his lips onto the dehydrated grass. Flickering orange tongues of flame reflected in his dark eyes. Flaming projectiles of wood and fire drifted back down to earth, leaving hot, smoky trails behind. His eyes remained fixed on his team as he struggled to roll onto his front and pick himself up off the ground.

He should have known better than to think that it would be that easy.

He stumbled over to the three other agents and managed to get them to their feet.

'Is everyone alright?' he asked, talking as best as he could.

He received three brief, weak nods. All around the house, the armed backup team were pulling themselves up and regrouping at the front of the house. Or at least what was left of the once grand structure.

Bosco only just realised the pain radiating from his leg when Martinez pointed shakily at the source. He looked down. He swore under his breath, placing his hand around the puncture wound, where a huge shaft of wood stuck out, about one and a half inches thick. How did he not notice...that?

Bosco felt light-headed as his hands hovered shakily around the wound.

'Call...an ambulance,' he whispered shakily.

Sandy Lopez, the new secretary for Sam Bosco, walked past the interrogation rooms, a file fixed in her hand. She was desperate to impress. She put on all her best clothes. Groomed herself to the best of her ability and made sure she acted intelligently and sophisticatedly. She thought she was doing well...

Suddenly, something in the corner of her eye caught her and made her stop dead. She turned her head to look into interrogation one. That was the moment when all she could do was let her vocal chords scream their heart out. She was frozen, her eyes wide. Her heart pounded and pounded and pounded on the inside of her chest. The only thing she could meet gazes with was a sickly, bloody, grinning smiley. She felt light-headed, dizzy.

Soon, there were security guards dashing into the room, looking from slashed body splayed on the table to smiley, and back again.

'GET A MEDIC IN HERE!' one of them yelled.

Sandy's eyes lay fixed on the pooling blood on the floor, dripping off the table in a sickening symphony. Her chest heaved, her thin blouse tugging.

'Oh my God...' she whimpered, 'Oh my God.'

She bolted for the nearest bathroom, hand lightly covering her mouth.

Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt's gaze suddenly shot up from their various activities at the sound of a high pitched scream coming from just outside the bullpen. They raced from their desks...even Rigsby...and grouped outside interrogation one.

'Oh no...' Rigsby murmured.

'Wait...Red John...he was in here?' Van Pelt gasped, 'That's not...'

'Anything's possible with Red John,' Cho pointed out.

'Should we tell Jane and Lisbon?' Van Pelt suddenly remembered their two absent colleagues.

'Not a good idea. Jane's too involved and Lisbon's got something going on that's got her upset,' Cho replied.

All the three agents could do was watch as medics and officers poured in and out of the room, collecting the body, securing the scene.

Patrick suddenly woke from his trance-like state at the feeling of Lisbon's cool fingers resting on his chest. He looked down at the top two unsecured buttons of his shirt, and the way Lisbon's hand was just venturing inside. Not on purpose...he hoped. Gently lifting away the slender fingers and placing them on his stomach instead, where there was actually clothing between their skin, Patrick looked down at Lisbon as she lay curled into him. She appeared to be asleep, so the action obviously hadn't been intentional, but it still felt wrong for them to be that intimately close in this kind of situation. And the situation wasn't just Lisbon's brother. Patrick glanced down at his wedding ring.

Ever since that day, Patrick had always told himself that he was still married. There was still that connection between him and his wife. And there always would be. A true marriage always lasted longer than 'til death do us part'. The ring was a way to stop himself forgetting as well; a way to prevent himself from forgetting the promise that he had to fulfil.

And that's why Lisbon and himself could not become too close. Why they couldn't have a...

Relationship? Was that really what he was thinking about? Just because Lisbon's fingers had accidentally touched his chest? Oh dear.

Patrick shook his head free of the thoughts. He wrapped his arms protectively around Lisbon and quietly began to hum to himself...very quietly. He hummed a slow, melodic tune, making himself feel sleepy. He remembered the new front door. He'd have to show Lisbon when she woke up. It definitely couldn't go undiscovered for too much longer...it was just the whole situation with the...then he remembered the gun, lying in pool of mirror shards. He needed to hide it.

His gaze fell on Lisbon once more. Patrick slowly began to shuffle out from underneath her, careful not to wake her as he gently laid her head onto one of the feather pillows. Creeping through the dimly lit room, Patrick collected the gun and ventured downstairs. Yes, he dared to leave Lisbon alone. At least she didn't have a gun this time. And she was asleep. And he would be back up there soon enough...he just needed to discover a good hiding place for the weapon that was currently dangling off his middle finger...

Patrick stood in the centre of the apartment, eyes roaming for a secure place to put the weapon. He didn't want Lisbon finding it any time soon. He didn't really want her to be near anything that could harm her...but that would end in clearing the majority of the apartment, so hiding the gun would do for now. But he really needed to cheer her up anyway, to make sure she didn't do anything stupid. To make sure she didn't end up with a weapon of grievous bodily harm in her hand, aimed at herself. So plans began forming in his mind as he searched for a hiding place for the glock...

Terry laughed as he drove away from the CBI building, his hands gripping the steering wheel of the car he'd parked close by only a couple of days ago. That was fun. Maybe he should toy with the CBI more often. He was a bit disappointed that Patrick Jane hadn't been there to witness his fun...but hey. Maybe he'd see pictures.

Peeling away his Asian face, Red John wondered how Agent Bosco was getting on at the house. He wondered whether he was still alive, or just existing in small pieces all over the yard of a 'John Hyder's' house. He pulled the hand-like gloves off, and disposed of them in the passenger seat.

Now, in the driver's seat of the Mercedes, sat a middle aged, light haired Caucasian male. No longer Asian. No longer called Terry Yeoker.

Red John had sat under the noses of the CBI for over an hour...and nobody had noticed.

A/N: Ok, I won't be able to update now until next monday/tuesday cos I'm going away on me easter hols, but I will be writing whilst i'm away and therefore will try and update as soon as possible after I come back. Lots of lovely reviews when I come back would just be epic xx love y'all. :P