A/N: Thank you to beautiful reviewers :D Enjoy the new chapter!

Chapter 12

Patrick dropped out of the car onto the sizzling concrete outside the CBI headquarters, his feet feeling heavy and tired. He dragged his jacket off of the seat behind him, hanging it over his arm instead of trying to look slick with it hanging over his shoulder. He was in the situation where he knew he should be saying something, but it just wouldn't come out. This being the case, silence was the only thing that had filled the air for the whole car journey, and to say it was awkward would be an understatement.

Patrick scratched his forehead before pushing the SUV's door shut. The nervousness that was so unlike him, filled his whole self as he glanced over at Teresa Lisbon, walking stiffly beside him as they made for the entrance to the CBI Headquarters. Eventually, he would get himself with Lisbon, alone, so that he couldn't escape, and tell her the truth. But for now, a sorry that wouldn't quite come out would have to do.

Standing slightly apart in the elevator, they were both taking a side glance at each other every few seconds, just because of the butterflies in their stomachs.

Patrick thought how much he needed his couch. How much that good old couch did to comfort and support him. Even if it was only a stuffed and springified lump of leather, it was therapeutic in its own little way.

Lisbon thought how much she needed to be sat on the couch at home, curled up in an oversized shirt that drowned her small frame, with a bowl of popcorn and an old film. It was just the sort of thing that would help her right now. And she would make sure it wasn't a romantic old film...

The doors pinged open and they both rushed out without a second thought, diverting away from each other onto their own paths, both ending up on their separate couches.

Van Pelt cast a glance at Patrick as he sank comfortably into the old brown leather couch beside his desk.

'Hey, Jane. Everything alright?'

Patrick took a deep breath, closing his eyes, mulling over that question. No. Everything wasn't alright.

'Yeah...fine,' he lied.

After a moment's silence, 'We got someone in by the way.' Van Pelt briefly looked over her shoulder, as if checking that Patrick was reacting in the right way.

'Who?' his eyes flashed open immediately, listening intently for the young agent's answer.

'Woman named Bliss Matthews. She's Red John's mom.'

'Mom?' Patrick repeated, his eyebrows creasing slightly. He was now sat up again, staring at Van Pelt, waiting impatiently for her to expand.

'Yeah. Turns out someone saw a man matching Red John's description getting into a Ford Mustang 1968. Which is registered to Bliss Matthews.'

'Do they live together?' Patrick's curiousness got the better of him, remembering what he'd said when he'd described the serial killer on TV...

'As I told the police, he's a very ordinary looking man, mid thirties, medium height, he has thinning brown hair. He's methodical, and tidy. He keeps himself very clean. He works at a clerical job, lives with his mother or his sister, in a single storey blue house, with a citrus tree in the front yard... lemon, I think.'

'Yeah...why?'

Patrick's face lit up in a smug grin for a fleeting moment before it was gone and he was dashing for the interrogation rooms.

'Jane!' Van Pelt called hopelessly after him.

Patrick found the right room and hopped into the observation room, his breathing slightly laboured as he stood before the one-way glass. He noticed the absence of Cho in the room, briefly wondering where he was, but soon being distracted by the woman sat in the dull spotlights. He immediately became silent, as if she might hear him. No smile took residence on his face as he simply watched her. Red John's mother. Finally he'd made a mistake. Finally, they could get closer to him.

Patrick's feet itched to take him into the room he was watching, but at the same time, they were glued to the spot. He didn't want to screw this up. He needed answers and if he made a wrong move, everything could be lost. He syked himself up, still watching as Bliss Matthews shifted in her seat uncomfortably, glancing around the walls and readjusting the way her clasped hands rested on the stainless steel table top. He rubbed his hands together vigorously.

And then Cho walked back in.

Patrick's whole worked up being slouched back down again and he looked frustratedly in Cho's direction, even though the agent couldn't see him. His eyes narrowed, but settled for watching the woman and how she reacted to Cho's questions for a while. Better to know someone before you run into a room and start firing off questions at them. Know someone in Patrick's understanding of the phrase anyways.

Lisbon's head sank back into the soft cushion positioned on the armrest of her office's sofa. Rarely did she use it, but today, this moment; it seemed like a good idea. She brought her feet tiredly up onto the other armrest and shut her eyes, breathing deeply. She placed her hands flat onto her stomach, listening to her breathing and trying to put herself in a place of calm. She knew she should be checking on what was happening with the case, but she couldn't be bothered right now. Teresa Lisbon couldn't be bothered to work. Everything had just completely drained her. Mentally, physically, every way. Tommy, Bosco, Jane and Red John...this was insane. Death, one-way love, near death, rejected love and a serial killer. Seriously. What kind of a combination was that? A tiring one, was what it was. And it made Lisbon want to sink into the couch she was laying on and just disappear.

Too much pain filled her heart right now. It felt like it had been torn out of her chest and thrown to the ground, becoming dirty and marred. She half wished that she hadn't become so vulnerable yesterday when Jane had been there, because it weakened her defences so, that she started showing her affection for him, and got her hopes up that something would happen between them. She brought the pain upon herself. She was like that.

Cho sipped his coffee and set the mug down on the table with a soft chink.

'Do you think I could get one of those?' Bliss asked, leaning forward and nodding at the coffee.

'No,' Cho shook his head.

Bliss shrugged, slouching back into her chair again and looking out of the blinded glass wall.

Cho simply looked at her, studied her, hoping to find a way in. But truth was, he just wasn't as good at reading people as Jane was.

'Look, I'm not saying anything to you. I won't give him up, so why don't you just totter off and do whatever else you agents do.' Bliss waved a hand dismissively in Cho's direction, still watching the corridor, as if watching for Patrick to stroll along and come in.

'One way or another, we will get information out of you, Mrs Matthews.'

'Is that a threat?'

'Maybe.'

'What, you gonna string me up on the racks and stretch the answers out of me? Because you'll have to do something mighty fine to get me to give up my son.'

Cho cocked his head, his expression still dead flat as road kill. 'Unfortunately, we don't have any of those.'

The corner of Bliss' mouth twitched with a sarcastic smile.

As silence descended upon the two, who were seemingly having a stare-off now, the door opened gently.

Enter Patrick Jane.

He shut the door softly behind him, his hand pausing on the handle slightly before turning into the room and meeting gazes with Bliss.

'What did I tell you agent? Came of his own accord,' Bliss smiled smugly.

Patrick looked grimly at the mother of Red John as he grabbed a chair from the side of the room and placed it carefully beside the table, like he usually did.

Cho leant back in his chair, watching Patrick wriggle into his seat before getting up and exiting the room. He knew that Jane would appreciate this moment alone.

'Patrick Jane,' Bliss announced.

'Bliss Matthews,' Patrick replied.

'How are you?' she asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.

'Oh, I'm fine...but we're not here to talk about me, are we?'

'Who says?'

'Me.'

Bliss gave a snort of laughter.

'You're Red John's mom,' Patrick stated.

'Timothy's mom. Yes.'

Patrick's heart was pounding inside his chest, and for the first time, he found himself at a loss for words. How to proceed? He could see that the woman wouldn't easily give up anything.

'How does it feel, Patrick?'

'What?'

'How did it feel to come home to that face?'

In a second, Patrick's face told, like the pages of a book, how much that night tormented his whole being.

'Ahhh...I see,' Bliss gave a smug grin.

Patrick's jaw clenched tight as he fought back the salty tears that would surely surface.

'Timmy. He showed you all about gravity, didn't he? He brought you down to earth. And that's what people need. That's part of his job, you see. He shows people what real life is. Drags them out of the clouds.'

'You're happy with what he does?' Patrick almost choked.

'Wasn't at first...but...que sera, sera...I can't change his mind.'

'Why does he do it, Bliss? What made him who he is?'

'Well you're the big psychic. Why don't you figure it out?'

'There's no such thing as psychics.'

'Ah yes...of course.'

'Will you please tell me about Timothy?' Patrick pleaded, leaning forward and clenching his fist on the table.

'In exchange for what?'

'Exchange?'

Bliss raised her eyebrows and gave a curt nod.

'I have nothing to exchange with you,' Patrick snarled.

'Then I do not speak.'

'Don't you think I've had enough taken away from me!'

Bliss simply stared back, her face unchanging, emotionless.

Patrick's eyebrow's knitted together, and he looked into his lap, swallowing back tears painfully.

'What do you want?'

'I want you...to promise...that you will show my son, everything he did to you if you catch him.'

'What?'

'If you catch him, I want him to know pleasure. I want him to know exactly what he did to you.'

Patrick searched the room around him, as if something might reach out and help him.

'You know?' Patrick jabbed his finger at Bliss, 'You're just as disturbed as your son.'

He snapped up from his seat and threw the door open, heading for anywhere but that room.

Lisbon picked up the stainless steel kettle and tipped it, pouring the boiling water into the floral patterned mug. She tugged the teabag tag up and down and swirled in the milk before chucking the teabag in the sink and blowing gently on the steaming mug. She leant back on the side and took a swig, revelling in the warmth that flooded her throat and filled her stomach. She shut her eyes and let her head fall back, her dark bangs rolling over her shoulders.

'Agent Lisbon,' Minelli strode into the kitchen and looked searchingly at Lisbon.

Lisbon's head shot up and her eyes opened. 'Sir?'

'You want to explain to me where you were yesterday? And why?'

'I'm sorry, sir. I had...family issues.'

'And you couldn't ring this in because?'

'I don't believe I was in a fit state to call.'

Minelli narrowed his eyes, his head cocking slightly.

'My brother was killed.' Lisbon replied, the words coming seemingly so naturally to her mouth now. It was like they were almost losing meaning.

Minelli stuttered slightly, embarrassed at his behaviour. 'I'm sorry, Lisbon...I really am.'

'Don't worry about it,' Lisbon replied taking a long swig of tea.

'How are you doing?'

'I'm...alright. Better than yesterday.'

'Good...well, not good, but...'

'Yeah.'

'I take it Jane was with you then?'

'Yeah...he was.'

Minelli nodded. 'He was alright? Not being an ass?'

Lisbon laughed shortly. 'He surprised me. He was great.'

Minelli nodded again. 'Well...you sure you're alright being at work?'

'Yeah, best thing to do, keep my mind working.'

'Ok...well, you can talk to me if you need anything.'

Lisbon gave one short nod and the corner or her mouth twitched with a smile.

As soon as Minelli left, Lisbon pushed off of the side and carried her tea to her office, rubbing the back of her neck with her palm. Nudging the door open, she paused.

'Jane?'

Lisbon looked down at Patrick, who sat on the couch, his hands clasped, staring into his lap.

He looked up at her, his eyes rimmed with tears.

'Hey...what's wrong?'

Lisbon moved fully into her office, shutting the door behind her.

Patrick shook his head softly.

Resting her tea onto her desk, Lisbon manoeuvred around Patrick and took a seat next to him. She placed her elbows on her thighs and clasped her hands, searching for an answer with her eyes.

'Come on...you can tell me, Jane.'

Patrick didn't want to admit his weakness in the face of Red John. Well, Red John's mother in this case. She was playing with him, and he didn't like it. He didn't like having his emotions been thrown around like a ragdoll when it came to his family. Red John. He felt weaker than usual. And he couldn't explain it.

Without warning, Patrick threw his arms around Lisbon and tugged her in. He buried his face in her shoulder, feeling the initial tenseness leak out of Lisbon's muscles as she relaxed into the hug.

'Hey...hey...what's wrong?' Lisbon repeated, her eyebrows creasing together. Rarely did Patrick give her hugs...she squeezed him gently, rubbing soothing circles into his back, stroking up and down.

The only reply she received was a squeeze, Patrick's fingers gripping at her jacket.

Lisbon rested her cheek against Patrick's head, holding him until he was ready to reveal what was bringing tears to his eyes.

Van Pelt turned from her computer to the ringing phone and picked up the receiver, holding it to her ear.

'CBI?' she answered down the line, 'Right...ok...we'll be there soon as we can.'

She dropped the phone back down and stood from her desk.

'Cho?' she asked the only person in the bull pen.

'Yeah?' he looked up from his computer.

'Looks like we've found our getaway vehicle. Wanna come?'

Cho nodded and gathered up his jacket.

In passing towards the elevator, Cho looked through the glass wall into Lisbon's office. He paused momentarily, his eyebrows twitching together for just a second, before he followed Van Pelt into the elevator.

'Jane and Lisbon were hugging on the couch,' he said bluntly as the doors were closing.

'An officer called it in about a half hour ago,' the sheriff supplied to the two CBI agents, 'The vehicle matches the description of the Red John case. There's just one problem.'

The three looked towards the burnt wreckage of a Ford Mustang.

'So Forensics can't lift any prints, or anything else for that matter. It was an efficient job. They used accelerant. Turpentine.'

'Ok...' Van Pelt surveyed the blackened, trashed car.

'But there is one thing we know.'

'What's that?' Cho asked.

'This vehicle also matches the description of a car involved in a hit and run this morning.'

A/N: For any true Mentalist fanatics who realise that Patrick didn't actually say any of the things in that flashback bit, I used the deleted scenes on my DVD. :D
And please leave reviewsies people! No forgetsies. :P