Red Bones, Red Bones- Chapter 4.
"Jane?" Lisbon knocked against the door of his motel room again,, a little louder as a dipicable woman from down along the building came out.
"Look luvvie', he aint in dere! He aint been in dere since las' nite! He came andde left! Now kwit your jibber jamming'!" She shouted, her North English accent clear despite all she did to cover it. Lisbon flashed her badge, shutting the woman up immediately. "Oh.. Eye.. Ur.. Eyme sorry, luvvie'." She went to close the door, as Lisbon jammed a foot in.
"Do you know where he is?"
"No."
"Was he with anyone?"
"No."
"Did he say anything."
"Ay." Lisbon waited, but the woman did not continue.
"So.."
"Oh. He said tell the little brunette he would see her at the dina'.. I s'pse you're the little brunette! Was hard to tell, youu see, with all the litt' brunettes in dis here town!" Lisbon had already turned to walk away as the lady continued with her jibber jamming'. This one was killing Jane. This was killing Jane.
He was killing Jane.
Red John.
Who else?
Lisbon hopped into the car, realising she wouldn't be late to witness the beginning of Doctor Brennan's identification process, as she had hoped. Oh joy. She turned the key, starting up the car and began the short drive that she hoped, not so deep in the back of her head, would last forever. Anything to avoid looking Jane in the eye when his wife and daughter rolled into the lab today.
This is gunna be fun. She thought, sighing as she put her foot on the gas, driving out of the motel parking lot.
XXX
"I, Doctor Temperance Brennan state that this is the body of Janet Peak."
"I, Doctor Camille Saroyan concur."
"I, Angela Montenegro, concur."
"Okay, move these two down the to bone examination room." Brennan said. It had been one of the longest days of her life, and one of the most emotionally fatiguing. She sighed as the remains of mother and daughter were brought to the centre of the platform. Jane jumped up, looking at the deteriorated remains of the woman he had loved, the child he had created. Despite endless work, it ad taken them eight hours to get through the first four victims, logging all of the injuries and removing any partials, even the ones that would very probably be dead ends, from the remains. Finally, they had moved onto the two sets of remains that everyone had hoped would never come. Angela Ruskin-Jane and Charlotte Anne Jane.
"Victim No4." Brennan said into the recorder. "The victim is Caucasian, female, early 30's to late 20's. Judging by the pelvic bones, the victim had given birth once. Approximately 176cm in height. Weight.. Its harder to tell. The victim was very active, especially in earlier years. Judging by the radius and femurs, the victim grew up doing an extreme sport or activity. Not swimming, or running, or anything along those lines judging by the diaphragm. From the evidence, I would say that she was extremely strong because of this activity.. She either grew up in some sort of carnival or she was a body builder, going off of the strength of the radius and other bones in the arms, more so the left than the right. Also, it looks as if her right shoulder was dislocated more than once in early childhood because of excess weight or pressure on her shoulder.
"The victim looks to have struggled. There are cut marks severing her radius, as well as bruising along her ribs and the side of her neck. This victim was also tazered, approximately an hour before her demise, due to the marks left on the side of her neck. They were old enough to begin to bruise, however they were in the premature stages of bruising. Angela, can you use the Angelatron to figure out the force of the marks left on the bones? Possibly even the height or weight of the assailant?" She asked.
"Sure." Angela snapped a photo of Angela's ribs, running through to her office to begin with the use of the Angelatron.
"I, Doctor Temprence Brennan" Oh no.. Oh no.. Please no.. Lisbon thought desperately. "state that this is the body of one, Angela Ruskin- Jane." Jane's fists were clenched as he looked at his wife's bones. Her bones. Her body. The body that should be standing next to him, on a beach somewhere in Malibu, with there huge family running amok around them. But no. And why?
Red John.
It was always Red John.
She moved towards the much smaller set of remains, with caution and worry in her eyes.
"Bones?" Booth said as he slid into the room, closely followed by Daisy Wick.
"The victim is Caucasian,8 or 9 years old. Approximately 127cm in height, weighing in at around 49KG." Brennan started, ignoring her partner and mate.
"Can we skip the whole confirming-what-we-already-know stage? Please? Its been hours and we're only on the sixth victim-"
"No. We've skipped vital stages, before, and people have ended up in hospital for it. Like me." Cam spoke, inspecting the remains.
"The victim was stabbed several times, after her demise. These injuries are all post-mortem." She gestured to the little girls abdomen. "The victim-"
"Don't call her that." Jane spoke, his fists clenched.
"Pardon?"
"Don't call her that! She had a name, she was a person, and your talking as if she meant nothing! Your talking as if you understand her-!" His voice stedily grew louder.
"No. Stop. Your too close to this case-"
"Like hell I am!" He shouted , his jaw clenched.
"No. Look at this, this is not your daughter. This is not the little girl you knew. To you, this is just the skeletal remains of a child. You cant see her like we can, you cant see the little things on her remains that make her who she is. This is not your daughter. To you, this is the thing that held up the little girl you knew, like the structure of a building."
"But she is my daughter! And you have no idea how much it hurts to see someone you love's structure here on this slab!"
"Yes I do. I do understand, Jane, better than you would ever know. Professional detachment. Your team has gotten to close to this case, and its clouding your vision. Red John is still out there, still killing because of the lapses in your professional judgement."
That was it. That was what it all came down to.
The child molesters.
The sadistic killers.
Her undying love.
It all came down to that.
It all came down to him.
To Red John.
He consumed them, like a depression.
He consumed them like the dreams of a dying soldier.
He consumed them like a sadistic serial killer.
He was a sadistic serial killer.
You see, some people, they don't know the difference between a depression and a sadness. A sadness is a part of you, a flicker of emotion. A sadness is a type of pain, and all pain goes away eventually.
But not depression.
Not like Red John.
A depression, it consumes you, it becomes who you are. Its like falling off a cliff. It happens fast, and if you can grab onto something, you do. You hold onto it for dear life then try to pull yourself back up. If you cant grab onto something, you will hit rock bottom.
And he had them.
Like a horrible depression, Red John had them clinging to the edges. Red Jon had them holding on for dear life, so close to the bottom that there was no point in holding anymore. There was no point iin trying anymore.
There was no point in doing this anymore.
And he knew that.
Jane knew that.
Lisbon knew that.
He knew that.
Red John.
Red John.
Always Red John.
As sadistic as a child molester, as guilty as a torturer, as consuming as a depression.
He was a showman.
He was a showman. His goal was to keep them entertained. Keep them watching till the end. Rack in the cash, divulge in the fame, love the ignorance of those around you. All he hadd to do was keep them watching.
And he had them.
Everyone of them was clinging to the edges of their seats, holding on for dear life, so close to rock bottom it was unbelievable.
Because he was a showman.
He was a sadistic, serial killing showman.
The hardest thing about depression is pulling yourself back up. People think that you can ling onto the edge for hours, days, weeks, months, years.. But you cant. Its like holding onto the monkey bars. You can only keep yourself up for so long.. And then.. And then..
And then you fall.
Unless there's someone to hold you up.
That was their jobs.
The Jeffersonion.
The scientists.
The anthropologist, the botanist, the pathologist, the artist, and the FBI agent.
Because they couldn't do this alone. They couldn't catch him on their own. They couldn't climb back up the cliff on their own. That had been their downfall. That was the thing that had been stopping them.
Well that was over now.
We're coming for you… Jane thought, as he took his place back in the chair, letting the Doctor continue with her work. The team knew what he was thinking. The team thought it too. He was going down. He was going to die…
Red John.
Red John.
Red-
"I, Doctor Camille Saroyan state that this is the body of one, Charlotte Anne Jane." She spoke quietly.
"I, Fisher, Squintern, state that this is the body of on-"
"Wait." Brennan spoke, her head looking from mother to supposed daughter. Something was obviously bothering her. "This.. This feels wrong. Look at the skulls, they're so.. Different… And it doesn't match his either.." She looked at the skull again.
"Yeah.. I can see that. It doesn't fit.." Angela spoke up, walking into the room.
"What… What do you mean Mrs Montenegro.." Jane spoke, avoiding eye contact with the artist.
"This doesn't fit… There's something wrong.." Brennan spoke quietly.
"Ange, can you do a facial reconstruction? I just.. This feels wrong…"
Angela picked up the skull and took her too her office, placing the skull on a machine gently. The entirety of both teams followed her through. The machine began to beep.
And then there was a photo.
A photo of a little blond girl with tight curls and blue eyes.
It wasn't her.
It wasn't Charlotte.
It wasn't his daughter.
It wasn't her.
His heart stopped.
His breathing stopped.
His mind stopped.
For all of a split second, Jane was dead. He was dead to the world, dead to the knowledge he had just been given. Dead to her.
Gone.
And then he was back. His eyes had lost their light, if that was even possible. His breathing was slow whilst his heartbeat was erratic.
It wasn't her.
It wasn't his daughter, his baby girl.
It wasn't the girl killed by Red John.
Red John.
Red John had done this, but he hadn't killed her.
She.. Was she.. Was Charlotte alive?
Could she be..
"These are not the remains of Charlotte Anne Jane."
XXX
A/N- I'm sorry the update was so slow! Turns out my exam wasn't cancelled, it was just pushed back, so I had loadsss of studying and revising to do all week. I know I took a big twist in this one.. Please review :D :D