Red Bones, Red Bones. Chapter two.
Stunned. That is one way to describe Patrick Jane after having walked into the Jeffersonion Institute. Museums and state of the art technology and Einstein's decedents and interns who killed for there spot on Brennan's list. And limbo. Thousands upon thousands of sets of remains, unidentified, even when the best of the best, the crème de la crème got their hands on the remains. To be frank, it was terrifying. If he never got a break from death in his job, what about these people? They were always identifying a murder victim, and if they weren't they would be having debates about conspiracies of spending time identifying as many remains as possible in limbo. These people were like little Mo Farah scientists on steroids! It was constant..
Angela Montenegro had said that it was her who gave the victims a face, and Brennan who gave them a voice. That's an understatement, Lisbon thought as she and her team gave the scientists room to do what they do best.
"…Hodgens, can you identify this metal fragment if I remove it from the remains?.." "…The femurs are damages.." "..There is severe damage to the radius.." "..Defensive wounds…" "As well as the hairline fractures to the back of the neck.." "..A strong enough tazer could cause that.." "…Cause of death.." "…Stab wounds.." "..Slit Throat…" "…Victims facial reconstruction.."
"Am I the only one who has no idea what's going on?" Lisbon asked as her team stood, gob-smacked at the corner of the platform.
"Basically, it is text-book Red John. Slit throat, tazer to the neck." Booth said. He shrugged "I guess I have learnt something here…"
"He made a mistake." Brennan spoke softly, causing a wave of silence to pass over the room.
"Wh.. What?" Jane spoke, a smile breaking out on his face.
"He made a mistake." She said, a little louder, as Jane walked towards the table. "Don't touch! Gloves-" She pointed towards a set of latex cloves that Jane ignored. "Okay. Look, RJ severed the sixth rib completely, and the muscle. When he pulled the knife out, he slit the girls throat despite her being half- dead already," she called over an intern and began acting out the scenario. "He stabbed the girl, but instead of doubling over, like her reflexes would have told her too, she pushed forwards, into the knife. When he pulled it back out, she will have already been dying, but he slit her throat anyway." The scientists all grinned a little at the revelation, gasping and smiling at it.
"In English please…." Cho said.
"He stabbed himself. Right here" Hodgens pointed towards his abdomen "then slit her throat- his DNA is in her throat."
"And he made another mistake with the other victim." Cam spoke. "To have slit her wrists like this, from where we can see she was standing, he would've had to cut himself too. If he made this kind of mistake on each victim.." Cam looked at Doctor Brennan.
"Agent.. Er.. Libon.. Lisbon, is it?" Brennan questioned. "I may have to learn your name.. Can I speak with you, in my office?" Lisbon hesitantly agreed as she followed the anthropologist.
"What is it.. Doctor Brennan…"
"We need to exhume all of the remains. All of Red John's victims. All of them." She looked at Jane. "Even Mr Jane's family."
"I.. I don't know if you can do that.. Doctor Brennan.. It.." She took a deep breath. "it might not be such a great idea."
"To be bob, agent, if there is critical evidence on Jane's wife and daughter-"
"To be frank and if there was, don't you think that our techs would have noticed?"
"No. You're techs are not halve as good as us. If they were, they wouldn't be techs, they would be pathologists, or anthropologists, or botanist, or demonologists, or among us in some way or another. We need that evidence. We need it." She spoke sternly.
"I.. I just don't know if we can Dr.."
"You don't have to call me Doctor Brennan, agent Lisbon. Consider it a peace offering, but I would like it if you just called me Brennan, or Bren', or Bones, like everyone else. That applies for your team, too."
"Thank you, Brennan, but I still don't know if it's wise.."
"Just talk to him. Ask him, and we will have all 38 victims exhumed. it's the best hope we have." She pursed her lips together, and it turned to a sympathetic halve- smile.
"I will. I'll talk to him- but I don't know.." She began.
"I appreciate it, Lisbon, thank you." She smiled again as she exited the office to continue with the preliminary findings of the Red John Victims numbers 39 and 40. Ange and Sweets would say they're in love.. Right? She wondered, as she jogged towards the platform. It's me and Booth all over again!
XXX
"Brennan?" Angela asked, as she walked onto the platform. Hours had passed, on only four people were left on the platform- Brennan, Jane, Lisbon and Angela.
"Yeah, Ange?" She asked, absent mindedly.
"A…Ange?" Jane asked hesitantly, as Angela whipped around.
"Oh, hi! I'm sorry- we haven't been introduced yet! I saw you on the crime scene, but I was a little too engrossed in taking in the surroundings- every detail counts!" She spoke, approaching Jane and Lisbon with a grin and an open hand.
"Ange.. Like.. Like Angela?" He spoke, disregarding her hand.
"uh.. Yeah.. You're Jane rig- Oh. I.. I'm.." She spoke, understanding the situation. Jane shook his head.
"OK, Ange, have you completed the facial reconstruction?…" Brennan asked, oblivious to the pain Jane was facing, like a knife, like a thousand knives relentlessly stabbing him.. Again.. Again..
Angela.
Angela.
Angela Montenegro
Angela Ruskin
Angela Ruskin- Jane.
His Angela.
Not his Angela.
Red John.
Dead.
Blood.
Smiley face.
Charlotte.
Angela.
Angela Ruskin- Jane.
Angela Montenegro.
Not his Angela.
Not his Angela.
Red John.
Red John.
Must Kill.
Must Kill Red John.
Not his Angela.
Not his Angela.
Never his Angela.
"Jane?" Lisbon asked wearily. Jane pushed past the three women and ran down the platform, out of the building, off of the street, out of calling distance, out of the city, out of the country, out of the wotld, out of the galaxy..
Because of Red John.
Always Red John.
Not the sadistic child killers.
Not the paedophiles.
Not her blatant and clear undying love for him.
Red John.
So he ran. And she followed. And he went to a motel. A cheap crappy motel with no hot water and beds that creaked as you opened the door. And she followed.
She always followed.
But he deserved what he got.
He deserved what he got as he sat on said creaky bed, with no hot water as three sharp knocks rang out like nothing else. He deserved what he got when he stood, and felt his muscles scream with pain, his brain emotionally drained, begging for the release he knew wasn't far away- but not a pleasurable release. A release that stopped everything; put an end to the misery. Death.
He didn't deserve what he got when she walked through the door that he opened, and sat on the bed that creaked when you opened the door, and turned off the tap that didn't know the meaning of "hot water". He didn't deserve her.
"What's doing on?" She said, concern drowning her eyes.
"Her name.. Her name is.. Angela.." He spoke, tears running down his face.
"Jane.." She stood and pulled him into a tight hug, her tiny frame pressed against his. "Jane, I'm sorry.. I'm so so sorry Jane."
"Don't be. It's not your fault." He spoke as he pulled out of her embrace and went to put the kettle on. "Tea?"
"Sure.."
"Lisbon…" He raised an eyebrow, his poker face securely back in place.
"Brennan asked me if she could get a court order to exhume all of Red John's victims." She spoke quickly.
Suicidal. That was one way to describe Jane when he heard.
And then he wasn't.
Poker Face.
That damned Poker Face.
He nodded. "And what did you say?" He questioned, as if it meant nothing to him.
"I.. I said I would talk to you.."
"What does my opinion change things? If it's a court order she wants, it's a court order she'll get. My feelings don't change that Lisbon." He continued stirring the tea.
"Don't do that, Jane."
"Do what, Teresa?" He continued stirring the tea as if she wasn't even there.
"Pretend like this means nothing to you! Pretend like you don't even care-"
"Don't care! Look who you're talking to Lisbon! I've spent the last 10 years of my life hunting a serial killer! For what!"
"Dammit Jane! Don't do this! Don't put your walls back up, let me in! We're partners-"
And that was it. That was all he could take. He walked up to her, and smashed his lips into hers. He did what he had always wanted to do; what she had always wanted him to do.
And she didn't fight it.
She didn't object.
She didn't push him away.
Her lips moved against his. Her body was pressed against his, her arms hanging abound his shoulders as her fingers found the very first blonde curls on his head, and she started playing with them. She twirled them, and she pulled at them, and she massaged his head like no-one had ever done before.
That was it.
That was all it took.
That was all it took to rive him over the edge.
He shoved her tiny frame against the wall as she straddled his thighs. His hand found the bottom of her shirt, and began untucking it from her trousers.. Unbuttoning it.. Her bra.. The dark lace.. Green.. Complemented her eyes.. Had to come off…
"Jane.. Jane stop.." She spoke, as she practically ran from him.
"Terezzaaa…"
"No. Not here. Not like this.. We cant.." She buttoned up her shirt as he clung to the wall.
"Please, just stay.."
"No Jane. I.. I'll see you in the morning at the Jeffersonion, same time as usual."
"Lisbon.."
"Goodnight, Jane."
And with that, she left. She sprinted- no, she sprinted, to her car as he clung now to the door frame, tears running down his face. Yet, his shoulders were stock still. The tears didn't change his demeanour, they didn't change him. It was as if he had built up a tolerance to the pain, like an alcoholic builds up a tolerance for the alcohol. And that thought ate away at her. It killed her a little more, knowing that she couldn't be with him, knowing the pain it was causing him.
She sat, in her car. She sat in her car with her head in her hands, and she cried. She cried for him, for the Jeffersonion, for the things her father did to her, for Bosco being dead, for her brothers, for the sister she never had, for her mother's irrupt departure, for Rigsby and Van Pelt's failed relationship, for the thing's Cho has seen, for Charlottes life being cut so short, for Angela never being able to say goodbye, for Brennan's general lack of know-how when it came to making friends. She cried for herself, and she cried for Jane. She just cried.
And cried.
And cried.
XXX
A/N- So not the Jisbon ending I was hoping for, but more will be revealed in the next chapter.. That is.. If I get a few reviews! Thank you, everyone who has already followed or reviewed my story!