Disclaimer: I don't own the Mentalist or Castle.

A/N: Hi, Everybody! here is the next chap! You will no doubt have a lot of questions by the end of this chapter but answers will all come in time. Thank -you for those who reviewed when I probably don't deserve it do to the grammar issues I tend to struggle with. Anyway, thank you once again and enjoy!

Chains that Bleed-3

Castle tugged on his chains hoping by some miracle of God it would break but they wouldn't budge. Don't panic, I'm sure someone will find them soon, nothing to worry about. Minus the whack job hiding in the dark in hopes that he can get to 'know' them better. He didn't want to even go there, it figures though the only person interested in his past is likely criminally insane. He yanked once more, why the blood? In his books he could rewrite the ending and they would most likely come out alive, but in this environment nothing comes out good.

"Castle it's no use." Beckett reminded him the twentieth time.

"Yeah, well it's not like I have anything else to do."

"Will you stop, you're making me nervous." she said.

He dropped the chain. "I never thought I would die like this."

"Who says we're going to do die?" the detective challenged

"Oh, c'mon Kate the only thing missing in this place is some fire and a woman stuck in a rod iron cage. Clad in tight leather with a…whip." he trialed off as he saw the disturbed look on her face… "It's an idea for a future book."

"How can you talk about books right now?" Lisbon asked venting her anger on him.

"He's an author Lisbon he can't help it."

Castle gave a surprised look in Jane's direction. "How did you know I was a writer?"

"Oh, it's simple really the blazer and washed out jeans accented with your black and white running shoes are clearly unprofessional. You're manner isn't one who has bee scared by years of crime, your child like behaviour shows that you are immature in your thinking. You were married so now you live with two women, one perhaps a daughter the other a mother figure. Either way with or without your over active imagination you still manage to cause some form of trouble." Jane explained in Jane fashion.

Castle looked at Beckett than at his shoes. "You got all that from my footwear?"

Beckett rolled her eyes looking at Lisbon. "What does that symbol mean?"

Teresa glanced at Jane than up at the trade mark above him. "It's a serial killer called Red John he kills mostly woman and paints their nails and lips with their own blood than leaves that God forsaken face to show us he did it.

"He isn't Red John." Jane replied.

Lisbon looked at Jane furrowing her brow. "How do you figure?"

"It isn't Red John's style. This is equally dark but too reckless, too sloppy; he wouldn't do anything that would even have the hint of him being captured."

"But the blood." Castle pointed out.

"Any person can paint a face on the wall, what he is, is a copy cat."

Jane couldn't hide the angry bitterness in his voice. If he were to die in this place he wouldn't be content with it, he still had to find Red John he couldn't let him win. However Red John wouldn't be content either at this rate, to have some wanna be do the job that he has been doing for the last seven plus years it would infuriate him. Suddenly the skin crawling sound of a metal door skimming across the floor reached their ears, four men entered the room. Black and red masks covered their faces, one pair advanced on Lisbon while the other two approached Beckett. Lisbon sat perfectly still as one unhooked the clasp from her chair the chains still connected to her feet as they began to haul her up she fought back. Her elbow connected with a nose but she earned a smack across the face and a bruising grip on her arm. Beckett received the same treatment as she also made the thug's task difficult as she tried to kick them but her attempt failed as she was lead out of the room.

"Kate!" Castle called as the door slammed shut.

Teresa hit the floor hard Beckett landing right beside her. They both looked at each other than at the two metal slabs suspended a foot above the floor, they both fought against their assailants but once more found themselves chained like dogs. The men chuckled darkly as they left the room slamming the door shut than bolting it.

Lisbon yanked on her chain ticked off at herself for getting her and Jane in this mess. The angle she was hooked up on was not comfortable her torso twisted to the right while her arms were pulled to the left.

"Lisbon, we need to put are heads together and figure out how to get out of here." Beckett whispered

"What do you think I've been trying to do since I woke up?" Teresa snapped.

Kate frowned. "I don't know this Red John nor do I want to I just need to get out of here alive. Alexis will never forgive me if I don't bring back her father in one piece."

"Alexis?"

" They are two peas in a pod."

The women jumped as the room was awash in a bright white light. The voice they heard before spoke through a rusted intercom.

"Ladies, how nice of you to join me. Forgive the roughness of my colleagues they don't know better. I hope that your comfortable enough. Oh, why so serious? I'm not going to hurt you."

Beckett shared a look with Teresa. "What do you want with us?"

"So, many questions. I will answer them in time but for now I want you to look nice."

"Nice?" Teresa exclaimed.

"If you would ever so kindly look to you're right you will find garments that are suitable for your…beautiful frames."

They complied two identical sweet heart neck line dresses that fell above the knee. One black and the other red.

"The black is for you agent Lisbon I'm sure you'll find it quite flattering."

"I don't wear dresses." she answered sharply.

"If you don't wear it Agent Lisbon I will bring harm to your consultant."

Teresa frowned she didn't want to her Jane, but she hated dressing up. it repulsed her. Beckett wasn't too keen on the idea either of wearing a dress, but Castle's life would be endangered if she didn't do it. Beckett reached out handing the black one to Teresa who cringed at the sight of it.

"We have to Teresa."

Lisbon sighed heavily snatching the dress from the woman. All in the name of Patrick Jane.

"KATE! KATE!" Castle shouted at the top of his lungs.

Patrick winced at the noise. "If you could would you stop shouting I still have a splitting headache."

Castle gave Jane an incredulous look. "You're sure taking this lightly. In case you haven't noticed but Lisbon and Beckett have been taken hostage!"

"They'll be fine; it's us we need to worry about."

"You can't be serious. Who knows what torture they are going through right now for all we know they could be dead."

"Your affection for Beckett is admirable but panicking and yelling like an idiot is not going to change anything."

Castle shook his head. "KATE! KATE! ANSWER ME!"

Jane rolled his eyes. "They won't be able to hear you."

"Well I got to try something. You know I thought you would be more concerned for the woman that has saved your butt more than once."

Jane gave an odd look that Rick couldn't quite read. A toss between hurt and anger or maybe guilt, either way he didn't get this guy.

"Beckett and Lisbon are in trouble and I just don't get why you think that we are in more danger than they are." Rick explained simply as he sat back down on the damp floor.

"I am a hard person to get."

Rick scoffed running a hand through his brown locks. He loved Kate he would never forgive himself if anything bad happened to her. Again. If only she could remember that he had confessed his love for her but that will never be. This was nuts he can't remember a blessed thing about how they got here in the first place.

Jane tried to ignore the clamminess of his hands and the rapid beating of his heart. He just gave an impressive lecture to the other man across from him when really those words were meant for him. Don't panic, Lisbon and Beckett will be alright convincing enough for the unobservant, but one who is trained in observance. It took all of his concentration to not flip out. Why should they worry more about their situation than Beckett and Lisbon? The answer was right under him; the faint ticking sound that only reached his ears, so rhythmic, the sharp wire that dug into his wrists was a painful reminder about the danger that sat underneath him. He covered the item behind his legs not daring to move as the ticking continued, don't panic it won't help the situation, don't panic. That's easier said than done especially when you're sitting on a ticking bomb where in one move you could burn up like a fire work on the fourth of July.

A/N: Huh-oh!

Thoughts?

Kindred Spirit.

P.S: HAPPY NEW YEAR!