Lisbon was amped to get going - spurred by both competitive pride in reaction to Jane's breakfast volley, and angsty curiosity about her nightmare. Jane reasoned that the tourist Jeeps would pass by the stone shack at the same time of day they always did, so the couple left as soon as possible after their early morning meal.
Not needing to pack for an entire day, their bags were significantly lighter than they had been on their previous hike. Lighter packs made for speedier travel, bringing Jane and Lisbon to the edge of the run-down property early enough to beat the Jeeps and the grazing mountain goats. The site was labeled as an historic 'ruin,' although the structure itself was much more complete than what Lisbon had envisioned when she'd initially heard it described as such. And, although it had looked much more decrepit in her dream this morning, the near sight of the place reflexively upped her heart rate a few clicks.
Pausing at the side of the building, Teresa cautiously looked to her partner, with her index finger to her lips, motioning for him to hold position while she and her Glock slipped stealthily inside to ensure the structure was all clear.
Jane stood outside, alone and still, for a five-minute span that seemed like forever. His distaste for possible confrontation was overpowered by his growing concerns for his beloved partner, so he snuck around the building, keeping his back to the stone walls, and ducking under each window frame. As he approached the open door, he grew even more silent, straining his ears to hear anything at all from inside. After a calming breath, and a quick glance in every direction, to ensure there were no approaching hikers or Jeeps, Patrick crept to the edge of the doorframe, and peeked slowly inside. He was perplexed by what he saw.
For an 'abandoned ruin,' the interior was surprisingly well-appointed: Against one wall stood a four-foot table, under a low-hung light. The setup was remarkably close to that of the CBI's old interrogation room; not the nicer conference room on the main level, but the less-comfortable cell in the basement. In a corner to the right of the door, was a rolling file, seemingly full of case reports and evidence. Beneath the back window, which Jane had ducked under, on his way around the building, were several black travel bags that looked suspiciously like law enforcement 'go' bags. To the left of the door stood some sort of toolbox, left with the lid open. Jane studied it quickly, seeing a cigar cutter, a couple of pliers, and a pack of syringes with accompanying vials of liquid. "Great. A torture kit…" he mumbled to himself in disgust.
"Classy, isn't it?" Lisbon spat sarcastically as she walked into the main living space from the other room, agitated.
Jane jumped, in surprise. "Whew! Lisbon!" He smiled in relief, one hand to his chest. "You surprised me."
"Dammit Jane, I asked you to wait outside until I was sure it was safe in here!"
"You were taking too long and I got worried about you," he whined.
No matter how hard she tried, Teresa couldn't stay angry when he got like this. With a sigh, she holstered her weapon and walked over to give her partner a comforting hug. "It's fine, love. Nobody's in the building anyway, and I was actually on my way to get you right now. There's something in here you need to see."
"The interrogation room and torture kit weren't enough?" he quipped, following her into the adjacent room.
"I wish," Lisbon growled. "What do you make of the little movie theater Abbott has set up in here?"
"You're sure this is all Abbott?"
She nodded sharply. "I had a peek at the evidence files over there, and did some careful digging in an open piece of luggage. Definitely FBI and definitely Abbott's team."
"So, this must be the 'undisclosed location' where they plan to bring me for Abbott's little meeting."
"That's my supposition, too. Patrick, I don't like the looks of this at all."
"Mmmm…" Jane agreed nervously, looking at the video setup in front of him. "Well, there's only one way to find out what's playing at the theater tonight."
"Jane, be careful," Teresa stuttered as the curious consultant started tapping keys on a laptop that connected to the projector currently aimed at a white bedsheet that hung on the far wall.
"I am being careful, Lisbon. But it's a laptop, not a bomb," he snarked, at the exact moment the device and attached projector sprung to life with a sudden whir. Patrick jumped away from the setup and grabbed onto Lisbon reflexively at the sound, cowering for a few seconds.
After a short gasp, and a long sigh of relief that her partner hadn't actually triggered any explosions - not yet, anyway - Teresa extracted herself from Jane's fearful grip and turned to watch as a scene flickered to life on the wall.
The video footage seemed to follow Teresa as she walked to the door of her Sacramento apartment.
"Those bastards were filming that day?!" She grumbled. "I recognize the confetti on all the doors. This was the same day Sam and Pete noticed they were being followed. They went big with the gag to get me on-site at the fair, putting flyers at every door in the building."
"Mmmm…" Jane mumbled, one finger to his chin in concerned thought. The consultant didn't like the idea of anyone stalking Teresa Lisbon in the least - even if the video was harmless. Then the plot took a disturbing turn:
In a 'Blair Witch Project' sort of way, the camera seemed to be running toward Teresa as she pulled a leaflet from her apartment door, then came a crashing sound, a scream, and a quickly-blurred view as the camera fell to the ground - suddenly filming sideways for several frames before turning to black. A quick edit started the next scene, which was a montage of past moments when Lisbon had been in danger: her unconscious face with a red smiley face painted on it, her lifeless body wearing a bomb vest, various near-misses and close-up shots of the former agent with bullet-hole perforations in her clothes.
The final third of the film featured Reede Smith, circling a brunette strapped to a chair, while a high-pitched voice - reminiscent of the one Jane had heard during the few times he had heard Red John speak - hissed overtop: "This angry little princess knows where you are hiding, Patrick, we're sure of it… If you refuse to show yourself, we will have no choice but to coerce the lovely Lisbon into talking…" The chair was quickly spun to show Lisbon, bound and gagged.
Teresa watched in shock. "Jane this never happened! How the hell?!"
"I don't know, Lisbon… but I don't like how they're using you here. Don't like it at all."
With glee, Smith removed the gag and instructed the woman in the chair to "Say it - NOW!" The partners watched in horror as the film inexplicably portrayed, with astounding realism, presumed 'actual footage' of Lisbon seeming to speak a list of demands concerning her own apparent kidnapping, onscreen.
Lisbon felt violated. It was more than alarming to witness her own mouth onscreen, moving to say the exact words that had been scripted by the FBI; and she felt sick as she heard her own voice pronouncing those words - words she had never, in fact, spoken. She thought all of these projections must have been engineered through some sort of high-tech wizardry. No doubt, today's matinee was designed to convince Patrick that he was desperately needed back in the US - by throwing him into a panic so intense he would forget completely about his own safety and follow Dennis Abbott like a terrified puppy.
Speaking of terrified puppies… Teresa looked over to her partner with great concern. The video seemed to be working; Jane's eyes were glazed and distant. "Patrick? You with me, love?"
Before she could complain or argue about his lack of response, the finale of the film exploded into a series of quite realistic terrified screams - not unlike Teresa's shrieks from her sleep this morning - layered over passing views of the 'Lisbon' onscreen being tortured for information about Jane's whereabouts. Reede Smith (or the digitally manufactured likeness of Smith) was insistent in the film that Teresa knew where 'the charlatan' was and threatened her with additional pain for her and her family, courtesy of the Blake Association, if she refused to talk. The onscreen Lisbon tearfully swore she didn't have any idea about it, but Smith wasn't buying it. The final minutes saw Smith pushing Lisbon out of the chair, again knocking the camera to the ground. A graphic in the final frame read: "Patrick Jane. Dead or alive. You or her. Time is running out." To great effect, the sound of a ticking clock accompanied the fade to black, finishing the terrible charade.
By the end of the sickening feature, a thoroughly distraught Jane was clinging to his love, as if she may disappear into screams and thin air, should he loosen his grip.
"My God," Lisbon muttered, greatly rattled. "I'm standing here alive, and even I believe that I'm most likely in a shallow grave after seeing that. Also, I have a strong urge to check in with my brothers."
Unresponsive, Jane only trembled, panting in fright while staring straight past Teresa, at the now-blank screen, his heart and lungs in a battle to actually continue functioning after witnessing such an unwelcome cinematic drama. His mind was tucked deep within his memory palace, working like mad to clean up the mess that had resulted from his viewing of the film; so many locked closets had been spilled at the sights he had just seen.
"Patrick, love… it wasn't real," Teresa tried to reach her pale, obviously traumatized partner. She gently held his paralyzed face in her hands, while tenderly wiping tears from under his eyes with the pads of her thumbs. "Jane, you in there?" She peered into his eyes more closely. "Patrick? Can you hear me?"
Jane's consciousness slowly lifted from its terrorized catatonic state, and he traced the full perimeter of Lisbon's face and shoulders with his trembling hands. "I'm s… so sorry, Teresa… I was able to hear you talking to me but I couldn't… it's…" he sighed heavily, "it's just been such a long time since I've had to even acknowledge the existence of that evil maniac or his followers, that I was unprepared for Dennis's little… copycat film. And the FBI must have access to the top levels of AI to have created such a realistic dialogue from what seemed to be your very own lips, my love. I haven't been so shaken since the last time that…" Jane trailed off into tears, as Lisbon held tightly to him, rubbing his back and whispering reassurances: They were safe; they were together now and always would be; the film was a fake, designed to provoke this exact reaction from him; the murderer was gone, dead, that was an undeniable fact.
Once Jane was stable enough that she was comfortable with temporarily letting go of him, Teresa swept the shack for bugs and video surveillance using a device the Rigsbys had gifted her for the trip. Finding no devices or active feeds, she photographed and documented what they'd seen, for corroboration with Cho and the team; then she and Jane painstakingly reset the scene, wiped away any fingerprints, and swiftly moved back to the ranch, constantly glancing over their shoulders on the way.
"Cho, this video was horrifying and realistic as hell," Lisbon spoke with a combination of fury and alarm into her phone, as it rested on the countertop, back at the ranch. Trying to calm her nerves, the former agent obsessively sorted and re-sorted the notes in front of her with both hands.
"I'm sorry to hear that. How's Jane?" The telephone-effected voice asked from the counter.
"He's still coming out of the traumatic shock… Kimball, he didn't even know I was there for minutes after… God, it was terrible. They even made it seem like I had read a list of demands but I never said those words - how the hell'd they do that?!" Lisbon spat, equal parts angry and distressed.
"I bet that's something Jason Wylie could pull off - A fairly recent hire here in Austin. He's actually a good kid, and a phenomenal talent with tech. Rumor has it that Abbott created a contest of sorts around Halloween to see who could create the best special effects in a video using FBI technology. He billed it as a demonstration of the tools the team had at our disposal, and also as a wake-up call about what sorts of faked videos criminals could possibly throw at us. Pretty sure Jason won. Not sure the timing works out for what you saw to have been his actual entry, but it wouldn't have taken much for Abbott to convince the kid to crank out another one. Wylie loves his job and he's a real people pleaser."
"That may be so, but it doesn't explain how he managed to fit practically every single fear I've ever had about Lisbon into one video," Jane called out as he rounded the corner, having overheard from the next room. He looked into his partner's eyes with concern, resting his hands on her hips. "It's just like when LeeLee Barlow was murdered. At that time, I'd said it seemed like Red John had reached inside my head and killed happy memory."
"I remember. That was a terrifying time," Teresa cupped his cheek in comfort.
"In this case, it seems Abbott has reached into my head and stolen all of my darkest fears about your safety for his little melodrama."
"Yeah, that jerk is just… I don't understand how got access to your thoughts or our history with Red J—" Lisbon straightened, suddenly struck with a realization: "Wait… I actually may have an explanation for that."
"Really?" Jane angled his chin in disbelief, "What's the explanation?"
"While we were hunting Red John, if you remember, my plan was to bring him in and have him tried."
"Yes, I recall that stubborn expectation."
"Stop it," Lisbon slapped at his arm for the 'stubborn' comment. "In support of his future prosecution, I kept a journal where I documented every cruel thing the bastard had ever done to you; all of his methods of killing and all of his methods of torturing you. I also wrote down every fear you had ever voiced about my safety, attributing those fears to his games playing on your conscience. My plan was to enter the journal into evidence once he was captured. Abbott gained access to that journal, and all of your fears, when he confiscated the contents of my office."
"OK," Jane began, confused by something. "I admit that I did have fears for your safety - still do. But I never told you about them? How'd they end up in your journal?" He peered at his partner with suspicion.
Teresa rolled her eyes with amused disbelief. "Jane, you were constantly napping on the couch in my office. Sometimes you talked in your sleep," she smirked with a shrug.
Jane grinned with admiration at her cleverness, before knitting his eyebrows in puzzlement - and maybe with a tinge of disappointment at a missed opportunity. "Wait, you kept a journal in your desk?"
"Yep!" She grinned triumphantly, eyebrows high, "right next to the hammer."
Jane had no words, only a gaping smile. He so adored the spirited one-two punch Lisbon had just sent his way.
"Clearly I missed something back in the day," Cho quipped rather loudly, hoping to remind his old teammates that he was still on the line.
"Sorry Kimball. Only missed the typical shenanigans from Jane," Lisbon answered, lightly punching her favorite fake psychic - who seemed to now be fully recovered from his earlier fright.
"Ow!" He whined, with the typical amount of play-acting.
"So Cho, did you get the photos and documents I sent to your private account?" Lisbon wondered.
"Yes ma'am. Will get with the team soon and see if anything pops up."
"Great Kimball - thanks!"
"You bet."
Lisbon grabbed the phone and took it off of speaker, quickly walking to the bedroom and leaving Jane to think, over a spot of tea at the table.
"Also, did you set up the other thing?"
"I did. Both subjects were more than happy to comply."
"That is great news! They understand the assignments?"
"They do. And they both claim the ability to go off book with ease if needed."
Lisbon snorted, "I bet they do. Thanks, Cho!"
"My pleasure, Boss. Be safe, and good luck!"
At around noon, the house phone at the half-renovated ranch hideout began to ring. Startled, Teresa eyed Jane, as he nonchalantly walked over to answer.
"Bluebird Ranch, Paddy speaking!" He spoke jovially into the receiver, shrugging with an 'I dunno, just made it up' expression at his partner's confused look.
"Hello Franklin! What's the good news, amigo? Oh, really… Mmhmm… I see… Yes, put him on."
Lisbon's confused expression hardened to concern and protectiveness. She knew of no one on the island with valid reasons to reach out to Jane. No one outside of Abbott's FBI, that is. Her eyes narrowed as she attempted to make sense of the conversation through hearing only half of it.
"This is he… Very well thank you, what do you want, Abbott?" Jane spat shortly, nodding a confirmation to Teresa that this was it. Abbott was calling to set up a meet - most likely planning to take Jane into illegal and out-of-jurisdiction custody for more intense grilling at the 'undisclosed location" the two partners had vetted that morning. "Dinner, eh? How very civilized for a cretin like you, Dennis."
Lisbon stifled a laugh, and beamed an approving smile at her partner's well-placed barb.
"Very well. If it will get you off my back once and for all, I'll see you for dinner at six… Yes, I know that hotel… You don't say? Room service? I dunno, Dennis… that doesn't sound like her at all… No matter, yes… six o'clock."
Patrick smacked the handset back into its cradle and walked to put arms around his lovely partner, filling her in on the bits she couldn't hear: Abbott had an offer to propose, and had made a dinner reservation for them to chat - at Lisbon's resort hotel, no less.
"He claimed they feared for your safety - mentioning chatter that you may be a target for kidnapping by the Blake Association."
"Imagine that," Lisbon snorted with disgust. "And he asked about my room service order, I guess?"
"You guess right, my love. He was poking around to see if I knew you were here, I think, so he brought up the room service thing to test me. I tried to tell him that the Lisbon I know was far too down to earth to dabble in such an extravagance," he sparkled with immense affection.
"I noticed! Well played, handsome," she glimmered, coaxing him closer for a tender series of kisses. This was it. Their suspended reality together as 'lovers on holiday' was coming to an end, and she wanted to part ways on the most delightful of terms. "Please be safe, love. I'll be there tonight, watching over things. Don't worry, the plan is solid - even if you're not the one running it," she winked.
"I have no doubt of that, Teresa," he smiled with deep admiration. "One of the few things I actually do have faith in, is your ability to protect this retired showman - or anything else you put your mind to, my dear. You are a force and a wonder, lovely Lisbon. I look forward to being surprised when you pop out of the cake tonight - or whatever," he giggled at the look he'd garnered with the cake comment, before sharing one more deeply passionate kiss with her, and grabbing his bag to leave.
"Uh… Jane?"
"Yes Lisbon?"
"How'm I supposed to get back to civilization though?"
"Ah, yes! That!"
Lisbon rolled her eyes and chuckled, arms to her sides at the obviousness of the question.
"Franklin will come by the ranch to pick you up in one hour. He has your direct number, and knows to call you by your code name at first. He wanted a code name too, so he will answer to the name 'Hannigan.'"
"Hannigan? Seriously? You're hilarious," she swatted at him as he tiptoed quickly away to the door. "I love you, Patrick," she called quickly.
Freezing in place at her words, Jane turned and jogged back to hold her in an extremely satisfying embrace. "And I adore you beyond measure, dearest Teresa."
After a tender moment, he pulled away, leaving her with a wink and a peck on the cheek. The door closed behind him, leaving Lisbon to pray for his safety; her hand holding to her cheek, as if to prolong Jane's parting kiss. Please keep him safe - keep all of us safe… Let Abbott see reason…Let this plan work… Let us have this life together, without the past hanging over our heads…