"No more secrets," she had told Jane, and a small part of her broke when she found him at
Julia Howard's second house, knowing he had seen Lorelei and had let her escape once
again.
But he lied all the time... his job was to be distrusted, and it wasn't entirely unexpected that
he would lie and hide things to get results.
His confession about his feelings for Lorelei hurt a little more. It wasn't just about work
anymore; it was something personal.
But this... the scene playing on her television shattered her in a way nothing else had. The
surveillance video had no sound, but she didn't need to hear what was being said...
Lorelei and Jane sharing a kiss before she shot Lennon wasn't something open to
interpretation. She kissed him, but... he responded willingly and didn't pull away. If he hadn't
been so absorbed in the woman, he might have noticed when Lorelei raised her weapon and
could have saved the man most likely to lead them to Red John, but she seemed more
important than anything else.
She didn't know why it hurt so much.
More than a whispered "I love you" he later claimed to have forgotten, there had never been
anything remotely romantic between them. She was sure that if she had kissed him like that,
he would have pulled away, citing professionalism, not being ready, protecting her, or any
other excuse.
Her jaw tightened, and she felt her heartbeat pounding in her ears as she looked back at the
screen. She was certain that video wasn't among the case evidence; her whole team would
have been in trouble if it had reached any superior. National security was supposed to
handle everything related to Jason Lennon's case. How had that security tape reached her
office?
Her phone vibrated with a new message:
"My sweet and lovely Teresa, I could give you the whole world. Why wait for someone who
prefers the lover of the man who murdered his wife? I know it must be sad to realize your
loyalty and love aren't reciprocated, but someone had to open your eyes."
A chill ran down her spine like an icy shiver. Her grip on the phone tightened until her
knuckles turned white. A few seconds later, another message arrived:
"Don't worry, I haven't shown it to anyone. I don't want you to lose your job... You brighten
my days when I see you."
Lisbon felt something dense and heavy settle in her stomach. It wasn't just anger or fear. It
was something darker, more visceral.
He wasn't just watching her; he had access to far more information than she had initially
thought. Maybe he wasn't just another agent as she had theorized. Maybe he was someone
much higher up, and she had the misfortune of catching his attention.
Lisbon closed her eyes for a moment. She wouldn't be intimidated, not after he had
physically attacked her. She wouldn't let this strange display of power break her.
With her fingers still tense, she did something she hadn't done in months.
Against all advice, she responded.
"I will find you. And believe me, you won't like what happens next."
She remained still, holding the phone tightly in one hand and the remote control in the other.
The paused scene showed Patrick and Lorelei kissing.
The reply didn't take long to arrive:
"Dear Lisbon, I've been waiting for you with open arms for a long time. But don't worry. It's
more likely that I'll find you first."
Her skin prickled as she read the message. The idea twisted her stomach.
A sudden sensation of breathlessness overwhelmed her. Breathing became difficult.
Her chest tightened under an oppressive weight, as if an invisible hand was squeezing her
throat. She tried to inhale, but the air caught, insufficient. Her fingers clung to the phone and
remote like lifelines, but her body no longer obeyed.
The echo of the message vibrated in her mind.
"Find you first."
The air wasn't enough. Her vision blurred at the edges, and the room around her seemed to
shrink like a trap.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears like a frantic drum. She tried to move, but her legs
wouldn't respond. Her chest rose and fell too fast, too erratic.
"Breathe."
She ordered herself.
"One, inhale." She couldn't.
"Two, exhale." Nothing.
She staggered and braced one hand against the couch, searching for stability, but the floor
seemed to shift beneath her. Panic grew, sharp and cold, creeping into her mind.
She was trapped... He would find her.
The phone vibrated again.
She barely managed to lower her gaze, her blurred vision focusing on the glowing screen.
"Don't be afraid. I'm not like them: I wouldn't abandon you or betray you. I wouldn't hurt you...
Not like Jane, or Bosco, or your father. I won't let anyone else hurt you again. I'll keep you
safe."
This was just a game. A damn game. And she was losing.
She was a cop. She had faced dangerous men. But then, why did it feel like everything
around her was falling apart?
The phone slipped from her hand.
She wanted to tell herself she was a good cop, that she knew how to defend herself, that
she wasn't alone. But none of those things felt true in that moment. And a primal fear surged
through her, from the tips of her toes to the last strand of her hair.
The idea of calling Jane pushed to the front of her mind. He would make the fear go away,
make her breathe again. Safe.
But that strange sense of security she'd found in his company during recent nights had
vanished.
She wasn't sure if it was because she was too afraid to try and pretend everything was
normal, or because the image of that kiss and the man's words had struck too deep into her
insecurities.
Jane no longer felt like a safe place... but she wasn't sure there was one.
Lisbon woke up confused.
Distorted memories invaded her. But she couldn't shape them; everything was too blurry.
She only remembered the pain and fear.
She blinked slowly, trying to regain consciousness. She tried to move, but her body
protested. A sharp, incessant ringing echoed in her ears, and a dull ache radiated from her
back to her neck.
Something sticky and warm trickled down her scalp. Blood, she assumed. The metallic scent
of it filled the air—thick and heavy—blending with the cold aroma of metal pressing against
her wrists.
When she tried to touch her head, the clash of metal against her skin stopped her cold.
Cold. Heavy. Unmistakable.
Shackles... Her hands and feet were shackled.
Her breath quickened.
He had found her.
She tried to move, but the chains tightened with a dry snap, the sound of metal creaking in
the darkness. The steel's chill bit into her skin, leaving a painful echo in her wrists.
She couldn't see anything around her. The darkness was thick, almost tangible. The only
sound was her own ragged, uneven breathing, bouncing off the invisible walls of her prison.
Except for a small, blinking red light. A camera.
He was watching her, even in the dark. Now she was his personal twenty-four-hour show.
Her wounds had been treated. The sharp scent of antiseptic burned her nose, and
something she assumed were bandages pressed tightly around her torso. It didn't seem like
she had been given anything for the pain.
The pungent antiseptic stung her nostrils. They had treated her injuries. A sharp scent that
reminded her of hospitals. The bandages wrapped around her torso were so tight that it was
hard to breathe, and the rough texture against her injured skin was a constant, painful
irritation she couldn't ignore.
They had treated her, but not to make her feel better. Just to keep her alive. The pain was
punishment for her defiance.
Had he treated her himself? The thought made her stomach turn. The idea of him freely
touching her while she was unconscious, even if just to tend to her wounds, made her want
to be sick.
She was still wearing her pajama pants, but the top was gone. Only the bandages preserved
her modesty. The rest of her bare skin was in direct contact with an excessively soft fabric.
Expensive bedding. For a moment, she thought she was lying on a bed, but the stiffness of
the mattress told her it was the floor.
Chained to the wall beside her.
A static hum broke the silence.
Lisbon immediately raised her head, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked in all
directions but couldn't figure out where the sound was coming from.
The voice came softly, distorted by the intercom.
"Dear Teresa…"
The voice wrapped around her like an unwanted caress.
"I'm glad you're awake," the voice sounded almost affectionate. "I was really worried when I
saw all that blood. It took me a while to tend to every one of those cuts…"
Lisbon's stomach churned.
She didn't respond. She didn't trust her own voice.
"You should know I don't want to hurt you. If you cooperate, if you behave as you should,
things will be easier. I just want to protect you..." His tone was authoritative, direct,
impersonal. Like he was discussing business.
"I don't think kidnapping me and almost killing me in the process is the way to show it," she
replied in a faint voice. It sounded weaker than she wanted, barely a rough whisper in the
darkness.
"I had to! You were going to leave me…" he exploded.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she whispered. And she wasn't lying. Despite
asking Sergeant Benson for help, they hadn't managed to develop a realistic profile to
determine the trigger for his most violent behaviors.
Except, of course, for Patrick Jane—his disappearance and later reappearance had marked
a clear pattern in his behavior.
"Don't lie. You wanted to leave me! You were going to report me!" His voice was filled with
restrained fury. "As if I were some common criminal."
A sharp bang echoed through the intercom. Something, maybe his fist, had slammed against
a wooden surface. And the sound was strangely familiar.
"Did you think I wouldn't find out? You weren't just going to report me; you were going to ask
your team for help… They would have taken you from me." His anger faded, replaced by a
strange melancholy. "How many times did I tell you to trust me, Teresa? I told you Jane
would ruin you. You didn't listen. Now you have no choice. I'm all you have."
In her years of police service, Lisbon had listened to many people ramble. But she was
always the one holding the gun, protecting the victim—never the victim herself.
"Whether you like it or not, Teresa, this was always meant to happen. I just hoped it wouldn't
have to be by force."
"They'll find me," Lisbon assured, gathering as much strength as she could. It was a feeble
attempt to convince herself.
"Don't worry about that. If they get too close, I'll just use a distraction," his voice was calm
again. His words calculated, his tone authoritative. The previous aggression was gone. "Cho,
Rigsby, and Van Pelt will keep looking for you, of course—they're excellent cops—but not
even together could they beat me."
Fear began to mix with anger in Lisbon's stomach.
"And Patrick… do you think you're more important than Red John? Who knows, Red John
might strike again" his voice sounded almost amused "maybe a unique clue will appear in
ten years, or Lorelei Martin might show up ready to reveal a name…"
Lisbon clenched her teeth. She wouldn't let him get into her head again.
Her team would look for her. Jane would look for her. He wouldn't leave her adrift, not even
for Red John, not even if Lorelei showed up willing to betray the serial killer. Right?
"Are you a follower of Red John?"
"A follower? No!" he said casually "We're... old friends. Although he's not too happy about
this, he fears your disappearance will distract Jane too much, but on the other hand, he's
sure that nothing motivates Patrick Jane more than a loss".
Lisbon let out a dry, harsh laugh. It wasn't amusement, not even mockery. Just exhaustion
and restrained anger.
"So this is all because I didn't choose you? You threw a tantrum just because I didn't stay
away from Patrick?" she let her voice emphasize the agent's name.
"You still don't understand, Teresa. It's not a choice if you never had an option. You and I are
destined, I knew it from the first time I saw you… I just had to make sure you'd see it too.
Lisbon clenched her fists, feeling the cold metal of the shackles against her skin".
"What a delusion you've created in your head" she let out a snort, not bothering to hide her
contempt. All that destiny talk reminded her of Visualize.
The man on the other end of the line fell silent. The static of the intercom filled the room.
When he spoke again, his voice had changed. It was still controlled, but any hint of
indulgence was gone.
"Don't worry, Teresa. I'll help you understand it, but not now... You need to rest. Don't worry,
I'll be watching over you while you sleep".
Silence took over the room again after the man's final words.
And Lisbon was left alone with her thoughts. It took her a moment to realize there was
something different in the air, but she couldn't identify what.
A subtle, almost imperceptible scent reached her nose: a metallic, chemical mix she didn't
remember smelling before.
A shiver ran down her spine. The air felt dense, as if it were filled with an invisible substance.
Gas.
Some kind of gas or chemical was being released into the air. Probably some type of
sedative. Her nose filled with that strange aroma, and her eyelids began to feel heavier with
each breath.
Lisbon held her breath, but her body was starting to betray her. The air seeped into her
lungs, into her skin, into her mind.
She tried to fight the drowsiness. She knew he wouldn't kill her or seriously harm her… not
yet. Not while his delusion still kept her alive. But the mere thought of what he could do while
she was unconscious made her want to vomit.
If only she had trusted her team… they wouldn't have left her alone. Stoic Cho would've
followed her without needing a direct order, silent but observing every movement around
him. Van Pelt would've made her uncomfortable with excessive concern, but she would've
made Lisbon feel accompanied and put all her effort into tracing the messages. Rigsby
would've backed up Cho, shadowing her if necessary.
And Jane… he would've dug through every message, video, note, even his memories to find
him… he wouldn't have allowed himself to lose her, just as she couldn't allow herself to lose
him. Even if perhaps their feelings weren't the same.
Patrick Jane wasn't a man of weapons, nor did he have any self-defense training. His best
weapon was his words… and even so, his company had made her feel safe, protected.
When he accompanied her home after she asked for help with Volker, his presence made
her forget about the messages, the flowers, and the constant feeling of being watched. He
extended the conversation until her eyes could barely stay open, and they both fell asleep on
the couch. It happened again a second time.
The third night, Jane knocked on her door at midnight. He looked so tired that Lisbon
wondered how long it had been since he'd slept in a real bed. She offered him her bed, but
he only accepted if they shared it. Despite the initial discomfort, between conversations and
jokes, she fell asleep. And for the first time in weeks, she slept without nightmares… Jane's
presence made her feel safe.
But then that video arrived, and the sense of security she found with Jane disappeared.
A strange tingling spread through her limbs as they grew weaker, barely able to move her
arms. Her eyelids felt heavier with every second.
She fought to refocus her mind. On her team and how the option to ask for their help had
slipped away long ago…
She should've asked for help when the messages started. And she did… of course, she did.
She followed the BIC's harassment protocol, but when she spoke to the woman behind the
desk, she only felt stupid:
"I wish I had a secret admirer sending me flowers," the woman responded when Lisbon
explained her situation. She tried to clarify that it wasn't just an admirer but a stalker. Yet, as
she spoke and saw the woman's judging gaze, she wondered if maybe she was
overreacting.
In the end, her report amounted to nothing more than an uncomfortable conversation.
After that, the pressure became so overwhelming that she stopped paying attention. There
were more important matters demanding her focus.
After Jane left, her days grew more stressful and cold. Before, she was overwhelmed by
work due to his antics and the closed cases. But that came with his company, his irritating
jokes, cups of tea and coffee appearing on her desk, him dragging her from one place to
another at the pace of his ideas. Sometimes, he even kept her company from his couch in
her office.
The decrease in closed cases increased the stress and pressure to solve them. There were
no more late nights filling out paperwork for successful cases, no more reports twisting the
truth to avoid Jane and the team getting fired or tarnishing their records.
And with each passing day, her worry grew. He wasn't answering her calls or messages.
She didn't know where he was or how he was doing…
At one point, the thought crossed her mind that the messages might be from him… A
strange way of telling her he was okay. But she dismissed the idea completely as the weeks
went by.
Once, before the flowers, one of the messages managed to make her smile.
It made her feel beautiful and special on a day when all she'd done was argue with suspects
and arrogant relatives threatening her job.
It happened only once, just one smile within the closed space of her office. But she couldn't
stop feeling guilty, wondering if she had somehow encouraged it.
Maybe he took that brief moment of weakness as an invitation?
Sleep began to overtake her, her thoughts tangled and she could no longer follow the thread
of her reasoning. Her breathing slowed, and she lost control over her body.
But she wouldn't let him win. She wouldn't let him break her. After all, she wasn't alone, no
matter how many times he repeated it. She had her team.
"Cho won't stop. Van Pelt won't either. Rigsby won't allow it. And Jane… Jane never knew
how to give up. If I don't manage to escape, they'll find me," she thought before losing
consciousness completely.
And even in unconsciousness, that intense gaze of blue eyes followed her.
A gaze with a veiled promise to find her.