Return to Sacramento: Chapter 14

Hi guys! Loving the reviews, thanks so much! Especially to Agathanancy98, whose review made me blush. This is probably the third to second last chapter for this fic. Depending on where it takes me – you guys know the drill.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine

"Why don't you come up here with me, Mister Jane? Up here on the stage. Come on, don't be shy."

After a few moments of silent contemplation, Jane turns to Lisbon and hands her Jess.

"No, don't!" She whispered urgently, but Jane quietly ushered Jess into her firm hold.

"I have to..." He whispered back, his voice much more wavering than he anticipated. "I'm sorry, Teresa."

When he saw her eyes become watery, he gently caressed her cheek. "No, no, don't worry... I'll be right back, baby." He softly kissed her forehead, then the head of Jess who was whimpering into her mother's shoulder, and he turned and walked towards the stage.

"There we are. Now Mister Jane... Do you recognize my friends? Some of them are some old friends of my father's and some I made myself just recently. You might recognize Mister Mashburn over there..." Reid gestured to where Walter Mashburn stood, awkwardly pointing a gun at some squirming VIP's with an untrained hand. "He's a new friend of mine. But he needed some convincing, of course." As Jane walked past Mashburn, he noticed the extremely dark hue of his eyes. His pupils were dilated, even now, and his face was inappropriately calm for such an adrenaline-pumped situation. He was hypnotized. The pupil dilation he had previously penned down as simple lust towards Teresa was actually a sign that he was hypnotized.

Jane looked forward once more and said nothing, listening closely to the sounds around him.

Reid Thompson was ranting maniacally into the microphone, telling some sob story of how his father was taken cruelly away from him – he had figured out the oh-so-tragic story two minutes into his speech, and the rest was just white noise; there was still the underlying noise of the important guests, whimpering and crying and threatening and bargaining, and the angry yells of their captors putting them in their place. And far in the back of the hall he heard the whimpering cries of Jess, terrified and heartbroken, not understanding exactly what was happening, but knowing that Mommy and Daddy were not happy or safe right now.

He slowly went up the steps and reached the top, stepping onto the heavily polished stage. Reid Thompson stepped away from the podium and faced him. That same smug smile, as well.

He reached back behind him and pulled a small revolver from underneath the back of his jacket. It shone under the stage lights, the glistening, dangerous metal.

"So you're Red John's son?" Jane asked. His voice sounded foreign to himself and it was so quiet you wouldn't here it a few inches away. Thompson heard it.

"Yes."

"You're father's son, I see."

Thompson chuckled humorlessly. "I guess you can say so. But as you can see, we're very different. Would my father ever have been able to do something like this?"

"Oh no doubt." Jane saw Thompson's smile waver ever-so-slightly, but he didn't stop. "Your father was a legend. He ran rampant for years and years uncaught. We didn't have a clue. This..." He gestured to the hall in a half-disgusted voice. "This is a game, Reid. This is nothing more than a little show. A child's trying to fill his father's shoes. Trying being the operative word."

Thompson's eyes flashed dangerously and his finger hovered over the trigger. Then the smile appeared again, cruel and sinister, sending unwanted chills along Jane's spine. "I know what you're doing. You're trying to play me. But then again, I knew you would. You think you're so elusive, Patrick Jane. You think you're such an exceptional magician. You can control anyone you wish with just a few choice words; just a smile and a calculated move and the rest of the world is putty, yes? But I knew about you. I read about you, I studied you. My father was stupid. He played little games with you and thought he had become immortal. He thought that any chances he took were moot. But I'm different. I realize I'm human. I realize that if you cut me, I will bleed. That's why I won't think I'm one step ahead. I am three steps ahead." His black, beady eyes flickered over to Jess and Teresa and the team. They stood at the door, along with some of his brainwashed little minions.

"You're in a bit of a pickle, aren't you Mister Jane?" His tone was condescending.

"I guess you could see it like that." Jane said.

Something about his tone made Reid Thompson's arrogance waver a little.

What was he up to?

"Or..."

"LAPD! PUT YOUR HANDS DOWN!" Screams started to echo from each and every entrance and exit as they were kicked open, sending Thompson's "guards" hurdling to the sides, and armed, Kevlar-vested agents flooded in from all angles. Within moments, the entire room was spread with agents and the terrified "guards" dropped their weapons, raising their hands. By the main entrance, Lisbon and the team pulled their weapons as well and got control over the situation.

Though the captive VIP's were screaming with fear, the "guards" screaming with panic and the LAPD agents screaming in commanding tones, control was finally being regained. The captives were even starting to run out of exits one by one to the safety of the police sirens outside.

Still on stage, Thompson and Jane stood, their own intense showdown continuing despite of the chaos below them.

"Nicely played, Mister Jane. You called your colleagues back home. I can honestly say that that one is a surprise."

"Thank you. I do try." He said with a small, humorless smile.

"But you understand better than anyone that this isn't how I can let it end."

"You mean I'll understand revenge?"

"Yes. That is what I mean."

"Do you want to know a secret, Reid Thompson, son of Red John?" Jane said with the tiniest of smiles. "And do not tell anyone I said this, because I will deny it. I have a reputation to uphold, you understand."

"And what is that, Mister Jane?"

"What your father told me, before his death? It was absolutely true."

"And what was that?"

"It's not worth it. Trust me, Thompson, I've been there and done that. Revenge doesn't help at all. What does help, though, is moving on. So follow you father's advice, even if it is very late and second-hand, and find yourself a good woman. Find love. It's the one thing that helps."

"Thanks for the advice." He made no move to lower his gun.

"Do as you wish. But you'll realize I'm right in due time..."

"I'm sure I will."

And with that last smug sound, two gunshots rang out and echoed loudly above the noise.

Yes. I ended with a mysterious gunshots. As I always do. A bit predictable, but it works. Since I'm so shamelessly coaxing out reviews from you guys, why don't you just roll with it and send me some feedback?

Much love, Zanny