AN: Glad you all liked the last chapter! I promised to update quickly to make up for the cliffhanger, so here we go.
Also, kudos to butterfrostcupcake for totally calling a twist in this chapter.
And I borrowed a quote from Charles Dickens as well.
Lisbon immediately pulls Jane behind her, and she reaches into her jacket to grab her gun. She gestures with her head, which Jane takes to mean stay behind but near, and he readily obliges.
His door is unlocked.
She clears the room quickly, and they find no body. Jane breathes deeply. He'd been almost positive that Red John had killed again.
Lisbon shuts the door and locks it behind her as she digs out her phone. She says a few words to Cho then hangs up.
"Why leave the mark?" Lisbon asks, holstering her gun. Jane's eyes are immediately drawn to her soft pink lipstick, and it occurs to him that if it weren't for Red John, he'd probably be wearing some of it right now.
He shakes himself, pushing the thought away.
"I don't know," he says, catching her eye.
Lisbon begins to pace across the room, and Jane watches her from his place by the sink.
"And why leave the mark here? At your motel?"
That is easier to answer. "He was watching us," says Jane.
Lisbon whirls around to face him. "What?"
"He must have been watching us," Jane says again. "He knew I left with you and that we took your car. He knew you'd come back here to drop me off. He knew we'd be together when I found the mark."
"Is this because you refused to help Erica escape from prison?"
"I'm guessing the two events are not unrelated," agrees Jane. "But there's probably more to it than that."
Lisbon doesn't say anything for a while, but she resumes pacing. Suddenly she sits down on the end of the bed.
Jane joins her.
They are silent for a few minutes. Jane is reminded of a moment a few years ago when they sat just like this, at the end of a bed in another motel room, also the victim of one of Red John's games.
"He was watching us?" Lisbon asks, her voice sounding hoarse. "Do you think he was watching when we returned?"
She won't like his answer, but he's determined to be honest with her. "Yeah, I think he was—after all, our reaction would have been the most rewarding part, right?"
Lisbon looks at him tentatively. "Will that change things?" she asks in a whisper. "We…we almost…if he saw…"
Jane looks away. "Nothing he saw tonight told him more than he already knew," he murmurs, and he watches out of the corner of his eye as Lisbon's brow furrows in confusion.
She opens her mouth to ask for clarification, but a knock on the door signal's Cho's arrival, and, like smoke, the moment slips through their fingers.
Since Red John's only crime has been defacing private property, there's not much Cho can do for them. He takes a few pictures and gets a sample of the blood, but he's soon on his way.
When the door shuts behind him, Lisbon turns to Jane. "You're not planning on staying here, are you?"
He shakes his head. "No, Lisbon," he says. "I'll go to a real hotel—one where you can't access the rooms from the outside."
"Thank you," she says. She waits while he packs up some of his meager possessions, giving him a look the whole time. He knows very well what she's thinking.
"Just say it, Lisbon." He zips up his bag and looks up at her.
"Don't you think it's time for you to start putting down roots here?" Her voice is quiet but firm, and she holds his gaze. "Get an apartment—or a house, even. I'll help you look, if you want."
He chooses not to answer this, instead lifting the strap of the bag onto his shoulder, and he walks past her. Like lightning, her hand shoots out to grab his forearm, and she pulls him back. "Jane," she says, her tone insistent.
He turns to face her reluctantly, and he wonders how it's possible that something so perfect can tolerate being so near something that's so…not.
Jane shifts the strap of the bag slightly as he says, "The more I build here, the more I stand to lose."
She gapes at him for a few seconds, clearly at a loss as to how to respond.
Jane continues. "I built a home once, Lisbon. And look at what that cost the people who happened to be in that home."
"How many times do I have to tell you that what happened that night wasn't your fault?" There is an edge of irritation to her voice, and he understands why—they've had this argument many times before.
"Maybe it wasn't," he says. "But I don't think I'll ever be convinced."
Lisbon glares at him, and he can see she's steeling herself to begin arguing again. He cuts her off.
"It's almost midnight, Teresa. Cinderella needs to get home before the clock strikes twelve." He grabs her hand. "Come on."
As he'd intended, the unexpected use of her first name throws her off balance, and she follows him without another word.
On Monday afternoon, the team gets another call, and Jane feels bile rise in his throat when he hears where the body was found.
The old cinema.
Grace notices his reaction first. "Jane?" she asks, standing up from her desk as he sits down quickly on his couch, his head spinning. "What is it? Do you know something about the case?"
Rigsby and Cho come to stand next to them as well, but Jane focuses on Grace. "It's Red John."
"You know that from the location?" asks Rigsby, his tone skeptical.
Jane looks down at the ground. "Lisbon and I saw a movie there on Friday night—right before we came back to find Red John's mark on the ground in front of my motel room."
Though Grace and Rigsby had heard from Cho about the mark left by Red John at the motel, Jane immediately knows from their expressions that Cho hadn't told them Lisbon had been with him. Grace and Rigsby exchange a glance. Jane wonders if one of them just lost a bet.
Probably Rigsby, he thinks.
Jane stands up. "Let's go," he says, leading the way out of the bullpen.
The scene is like all of the others—except for one thing.
The victim is wearing Lisbon's cross necklace.
"Patrick," says Erica, looking up at him in surprise, though Jane knows she's not surprised at all.
Jane looks in on Erica's cell, taking in how the matchmaker sits regally on her mattress as though it's a throne. Her cellmate watches them, intrigued, as Erica stands up and walks over to the bars.
She glances to Jane's side. "Grace," she says. "It's good to see you as well."
Grace doesn't respond, but her hard, blazing look conveys a thousand emotions.
"Three murders in two weeks," says Jane in a low, barely-controlled voice. "What is he planning?" He grips the bars of the cell, barely noticing that his knuckles have turned white.
"Get me out of here," says Erica, and like Jane, her voice is low—but unlike Jane, her tone is seductive and suggestive, and Jane wants to flinch away when she rests her hands on top of his. But he is desperate, and terrified, and if Red John is planning for Lisbon to be his fourth victim…
Jane doesn't think he can survive having three people's lives on his conscience.
Apart from Lisbon, Jane had told no one on the team the actual details of his earlier conversation with Erica. Instead, he'd twisted the story slightly, saying Erica was offering to help with the most recent Red John cases in exchange for a few days out of prison.
He hadn't been lying.
Perhaps this is why Cho agrees to the plan. So, three hours after his most recent encounter with Erica in jail, Jane walks with her into the CBI building, Grace right behind them.
Erica asks to use the restroom, and Grace accompanies her. Jane waits in Lisbon's office, the blinds drawn shut, and three minutes later, Grace shows Erica in. The redhead leaves quickly, giving Jane a look before the door swings shut behind her.
Erica turns toward Jane, who's perched on the armrest of Lisbon's couch. He narrows his eyes at her. She's changed out of her orange jumpsuit into an impossibly tight skirt with a suggestive cut up the side to reveal a good portion of her thigh, and the dark red of her blouse is the precise shade of the victim's blood from that morning.
"I got you out," says Jane unnecessarily. "Your turn."
Erica walks over to him and sits down on the couch. "You really haven't figured it out yet?" she asks, amused.
"If I had, you wouldn't be here," Jane points out.
"Love has dulled your mind, Patrick. Months ago, you would have seen the answer very clearly."
Jane ignores this. "What does he have on you?" he asks instead. "Why are you working for him?"
She bristles at this, just as he'd thought she would. "I do not work for anyone," Erica says. "In fact, I was the one who suggested our arrangement. He was different than all the others—his mind, rather than his looks, was what drew me to him. I've never made such a perfect match in all my time as a matchmaker."
Jane files this information away. "So that's why he wants you out of prison? You're a couple?"
"We have a...nontraditional relationship, but I suppose one could call us that. But actually, having you get me out of jail served another purpose."
"Which was?"
"To make it that much easier for you to despise what you see when you look in the mirror."
Jane tries to ignore this but doesn't completely succeed. "Red John promised me information," he says finally.
Erica nods. "And he keeps his promises," she says. She clears her throat. "Much like yourself, Red John is a romantic. He is pleased when a couple finally comes together." She smiles. "It's one reason why he and I were meant for each other."
Jane taps his fingers against his thigh in annoyance. "Erica, I'm not interested in hearing about your affair with Red John."
"You'll want to hear this, Patrick," Erica says. She continues. "Red John is pleased that you've found Teresa—that you've fallen in love with her. But he sends his deepest condolences to you."
Jane looks at her incredulously. "And why is that?"
Erica smirks. "After he is through with her, Teresa will not be capable of returning your feelings."
As hard as he tries, Jane cannot stop the ice-like dread that settles in his chest.
"What do you mean?" he says quietly.
Erica reaches over to grab his hand. "He's going to destroy her, Patrick—just as he did to you back in Malibu. She won't be able to feel love or to return it for quite some time. Perhaps not ever again." She rubs her thumb over his knuckles, and Jane has to force himself to remain still. "But you can prevent all that from happening."
"How?" Jane winces at the desperation in his voice. The look Erica wears tells him she's noticed it, too.
"Red John is offering you an olive branch," she says. "He wants to extend an offer of friendship."
Jane laughs sharply. "The chances of that happening are less than zero."
"I wouldn't be so sure, Patrick. Red John looks out for his friends—and, by extension, their significant others."
Jane lets out a breath as he ponders this. "You're saying that Red John would stop targeting Lisbon if I accepted his friendship."
Erica moves their clasped hands to her thigh. "Well, there's more to it than that, of course. He'd expect something from you in return, in exchange for his...generosity."
Jane stands up suddenly. Though he can't deny the offer is tempting, he doesn't need to hear any more. "Deliver a message to Red John for me—whatever his game is, I won't allow Lisbon anywhere near it."
Though Erica is looking up at him, she still clearly has the upper ground. "I'm afraid it's too late for that, Patrick." She smiles at him in pity. "You see, you brought her into it."
Jane hesitates, calculating.
Then he hears Lisbon's voice in his head.
She is his conscience, and he listens to her.
"I will never be Red John's friend," he says roughly.
Erica stands up, chuckling. "He said you'd say that, Patrick," she says. "But he also said you'd come to change your mind. When you do, reach out to me. I'll get you in touch with him; the offer will still stand."
He feels her slip a hand into his suit coat, knows she's tucked a small piece of paper into his vest.
Erica slides her hand up his arm to rest on his shoulder. She gives him another wicked smile. "Who would have thought, all those years ago when you appeared on that television show, that you were not only condemning your wife and daughter but also an innocent woman who you had not yet met?"
Jane's hands begin to shake, and he realizes vaguely it's because the rest of him is shaking as well. Erica steps toward him and leans in to whisper in his ear. "The agony is exquisite, is it not?" she says. "A broken heart. You think you will die. But you just keep living. Day after day." She breathes deeply, her breath hot on his skin. "After terrible day."
Jane is too wired to notice that she reaches into her blouse as she speaks. Suddenly, her arm moves toward his neck, and he feels a sharp pinprick. He groans, and she pulls back slightly, a needle in her hand. He wants to yell out, but he feels himself panicking, and Erica guides him to the couch as his muscles begin to give out on him.
She lays him down, posing him like a damsel in a fairy tale, and says, "I can't have you coming after me, can I?" She runs a hand through his hair almost lovingly, and if his muscles were functioning, he would have pulled himself away in disgust.
Just as his eyes close, he feels Erica lean in closer, feels her lips press against the hollow of his neck. Her teeth scrape against his skin.
Then there is darkness.