FIC: Acrimonious (2/21)
Title: Acrimonious
Author:
sirenofodysseus
Disclaimer: …it’s probably better that Bruno Heller owns The Mentalist, really.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: After FBI Agent Susan Darcy is overheard telling Special-Agent-in-Charge Luther Wainwright that Patrick Jane may be working with Red John, Red John steals Jane’s body and begins to destroy the team’s lives one-by-one.
Spoilers: Brief spoiler for The Crimson Hat (4x24), but the rest of this story is set after Something Rotten in Redmund (4x20).
Warnings: Violence, language, drug use, sex, non-con situations, mentions of child abuse/domestic abuse, negative character portrayals, major and minor character death.
Pairings: Red John/Teresa Lisbon, Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon, Wayne Rigsby/Sarah Harrigan, Kimball Cho/Summer Edgecombe.
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2-
The slightly wet gravel beneath Jane’s feet squelched, as he quietly shut the door to his beloved vehicle and stared up at the large and ominous-looking house that remained in the distance. Sinister trees bled into the darkening sky and shrouded the property into eerie obscurity, even though the sky was periodically dotted with twinkling stars and the bright portion of May’s moon. The house being a two-hour drive from Sacramento made the location, in his opinion, the perfect place for a serial killer (if Red John was there, of course) to hide away.
Jane briefly ran his hands down his pants before he stepped forward. His thoughts buzzed with the realization that he was moments away from meeting the man (or woman), who had taken everything away from him years ago. Somewhat nervously, he glanced around the small enclosure. He hadn’t told Lisbon (or anybody else) where he was going, but in the past, it had never usually mattered-someone always had an inkling of where he was and he just had to wait for them to show up. After a few steps forward though, he determined that he was completely on his own and his palms began to sweat.
He had never been so close to Red John before and the feeling was both exhilarating and nerve wracking, especially as he approached the old two-story home with shaky steps and with the knowledge that after Red John was dead, there would be no turning back. He’d go prison and Lisbon would hate him for a while, but he knew she would eventually understand why he had to do this. Jane slowly placed one of his hands to the gritty brass door knob and turned it, the door was unlocked and it opened just enough for him to slip his entire body through the doorway and into the house.
Red John’s hideout, he noticed with his inquisitive eyes, was extremely well lit. Waxy, half-melted scarlet candles were mounted on almost every available wall surface and wooden table in the foyer. The gossamer spider webs casted heavy shadows on the peeling red walls, which made Jane shudder in disgust. Was it actually red paint on the walls or had Red John used blood from his victims to decorate the interior? Whatever the psychopath had used, Jane quickly decided, he didn’t want to know. The walls were bare, which hinted to Jane that Red John didn’t actually live in the hideaway; he had probably only used the spacious home to conduct his business doings in.
South of the foyer held a long hallway with a set of double doors at the far end, but an old, spiraling wooden staircase sat off to one side of the room. Jane wondered if Red John had adjourned upstairs for the evening and if he shouldn’t check the up there first, when he heard a set of clambering footsteps coming down the stairs. Carefully, he crouched down and stilled his breathing to hide beneath one of the many end tables within the room. He wanted the element of surprise to be in his favor, for once.
“…we promised him we’d take care of it, Andrews.” The sycophant’s voice didn’t sound familiar, but that didn’t matter to him. Jane wanted to know where Red John was hiding, as he wasn’t daft enough to rush into wherever the serial killer was without a solid plan. Killing Red John, Jane knew, would take more than just walking up to the psychopath and stabbing him in the chest.
“I know.” The second sycophant hastily interrupted from a distance. Jane wondered if the hushed voices echoed into wherever Red John was resting, considering that both individuals refused to leave the stairwell. “If we step into the dining hall without something in our hands, he’ll execute us both. Won’t he?” A small triumphant smile danced across Jane’s lips; the sycophants’ obviously weren’t too worried about their loose lips within the stairwell or about a possible execution on their “master”, especially as one had just given up the location to Red John. He heard their heavy footsteps on the stairs again and he continued to listen, until he heard the sound of something being slammed shut. Jane removed himself from beneath the end table with a shake of his head.
Red John was going to die and nobody, not even Lisbon, would be able to stop him from sinking a blade into the monster’s chest.
Jane stepped toward the double doors at the end of the long hallway, which he had assumed was the location the infamous dining room, when he felt someone grab both of his arms from behind. He thrashed against the strong grasp and his legs tried to lash out at whoever had him, but his movement did nothing to free him.
“Well,” Jane heard the first sycophant’s voice hiss into his ear, which sent a shiver of dread down his spine, “what do we have here?” Jane furrowed his brows together. Both sycophants had gone upstairs, hadn’t they? He had clearly heard their loud footsteps upon the staircase and the slamming of a door, and he knew the sounds hadn’t been a figment of his imagination. “You might think all of Red John friends to be dense, but we are not. We knew the front door wasn’t open ten minutes ago, Mr. Jane.” He cursed his own stupidity. Why hadn’t he thought to close the damned door behind him? If it hadn’t been for that one mistake, he doubted he would have been apprehended. “It doesn’t matter though, honestly. Red John has been expecting you,” horror lined his stomach. Red John had been expecting him? How had the serial killer even known that he was going to accept the invitation in the first place? Jane hadn’t run into anybody on his way out of the CBI, but that didn’t mean that somebody hadn’t been lingering in the shadows. Moles of Red John, after all, weren’t exactly uncommon within the halls of the CBI anymore. If the sick bastard had been waiting for and expecting him all evening, it signaled that the killer had something truly heinous up his sleeve. Jane almost wished that he had told Lisbon, because even though he wasn’t afraid of meeting the Grim Reaper, he was afraid of not being able to enact his final revenge against Red John. His thoughts were interrupted by the sycophant, “so, let’s not keep him waiting.”
The second sycophant shoved Jane forward and down the hallway, while his body continued to twist and jerk around in the hope that his captor would somehow lose his hold. Jane tried to lash out at his captor again, until he stood before the double doors and realized that he had absolutely no way out. “He’s enthusiastic for you to finally meet him, so don’t get any silly ideas. I would really hate for your blood to stain the interior of the room too.” He felt a fist slam into the side of his head, as if it would knock all of the silly ideas out of his head, which made him cry out in alarm.
Through his blurry vision, Jane watched the sycophant pound his fist against the double door; no tattoos displayed on his lean wrist, no signifying rings to identify him with, absolutely nothing but pale skin to eye, before he heard a distinct voice call out, “come in!” Slowly, the doors opened and Jane was shoved forward onto the hardwood floor.
“Stand up.” The sycophant ordered. Jane noticed that his voice was heavy with a sneer. Before Jane could bring himself to stand firmly on his feet, he felt a foot slam into his side. He cried out at the sudden burst of pain and collapsed back onto the floor with a groan. “Red John expects you to greet him while standing, Mr. Jane, not while lying on your back. You need to get up.” Jane struggled to get back on his feet, when he felt the foot connect with his side again. “He deserves the upmost amount of respect, you vile piece of…”
“Andrews, you have done more than enough.” Jane heard the distinct yet soft voice from somewhere within the room speak and his stomach knotted in apprehension; for that distinct yet soft (and probably software changed) voice, he knew without reasonable doubt, belonged to the actual Red John. His vision swam and his head pounded, as he tried to follow the words from the serial killer. “I’m sure Mr. Jane would be able to stand and face me, if he didn’t have a foot colliding into his ribs every five seconds.” The thought of agreeing with a coldblooded killer sent shivers down his spine, though Jane couldn’t help but silently agree with him. “I will let you catch your breath, Mr. Jane. I am positive that my friend did not intend to hurt you. Did you, Andrews?”
“I didn’t, sir.” Andrews responded and Jane knew the man was lying, as Andrews’ foot tapped against his leg. Red John said nothing for a moment, while Jane steadied himself on his feet and tried to ignore the pain in his ribs.
“I don’t know whether you’re exceptionally intelligent or if you’re just plain idiotic, Mr. Jane.” Red John brought attention back to himself, before he motioned for Jane to join him at the elongated and dark wood dining room table. Jane remained quiet, as he was roughly pushed forward and then backwards into an archaic chair at the base of the table by Andrews, who continued to pin him to the offending object. He tried to writhe his way free, but it was to no avail. “It’s a special three day weekend off for you and your co-workers. If I killed you, Mr. Jane, you wouldn’t be found until Tuesday morning.” Red John’s dark eyes pierced him from the head of the table and he shuddered again; the man was absolutely soulless. “At the latest.”
“You’re not going to kill me.” Jane responded while he kept the fear from his voice. His bluish-green eyes focused on the dark masked face of the man, who had slaughtered his wife and child without mercy. The same man, he had sworn years ago to Lisbon that he would one day cut open before watching him die slowly. He watched Red John shift in his chair. “You…”
“You will kill me first with the knife that’s in your pocket?” Red John interrupted, coyly. Jane blinked in surprise. He hadn’t looked down at his pocket, moved his hand toward the knife, or shown his cards by saying that he had a knife in his pocket. Jane had known Red John wasn’t the average criminal; the man was an intelligent, methodical, and cruel monster of meticulous planning and death. “You’re not the only person who has ever studied nonverbal communication, Mr. Jane.”
“I never said I was.” Jane retorted. Red John said nothing in return and Jane continued. “I just thought you should know that the hospitality around here is lacking and your so-called friends have appalling manners.” Jane tried to jerk away from the hold again. Red John chuckled. “You obviously don’t pick your brainwashed friends for their well-thought conversational skills or personal hygiene habits.”
“You shouldn’t take your treatment too personal, Mr. Jane.” Red John soothed and Jane flinched. “My brainwashed friends, as you so affectionately label them, do not appreciate unannounced visits.” Jane shook his head in irritation. Red John had gotten Jon Collins to give the address and if the serial killer had thought for one moment that he wouldn’t accept the chance to seek vengeance, the killer was damn near insane. He watched Red John lean forward in his chair, before the killer perched his elbow on the table steadily and placed his fist under his chin. “I’m honestly surprised you came here alone. I was always under the vague impression that Agent Lisbon was your personal handler, as she knows more about you than anyone else does.” Was Red John trying to imply something beyond a friendship for himself and Lisbon? Jane tried to shrug off Red John’s comment and surprise with a small grimace.
“Lisbon didn’t need to know about this.” Jane tried to not remember that his last conversation with Lisbon had been a fight over Red John and Darcy again, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking that you just go on believing that, Lisbon would be one of the last things he would ever say to her. Red John glanced at Jane with a questioning stare in the dim candlelight from atop the table.
“Agent Lisbon doesn’t know you’re here, does she?” Red John tittered with a soft smile and Jane made no movement to respond. Deniability had always been Lisbon’s (and his) best friend and if he had killed Red John off her watch; she could keep her beloved job and he would be able to flee without much persecution. Outside of Lisbon, he knew nobody at the CBI or FBI would truly miss his presence. “I doubt you even thought to tell anybody, really.” Jane eyed Red John. “This brings me back to our first point, Mr. Jane. Either you’re exceptionally intelligent or you’re just plain idiotic.”
“I assumed that you had wanted me to come alone,” Jane manipulated the truth, “but, I told Lisbon to wait for me outside.” Red John continued to eye him, an easy smile playing across his pink lips.
“Oh, I did.” Red John stated, softly after a few moments of silence. “However, you’re lying to me about Agent Lisbon’s presence and I don’t appreciate liars, Mr. Jane.” Jane masked his expression into one of indifference, although he felt his blood run cold within his veins. How had Red John been able to tell he was lying? Lisbon had only gotten that good after years of them both working together. Jane knew logically that Red John should have never been able to tell. “Let’s try this again, shall we? Is Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon with you, Mr. Jane?”
Jane met the killer’s eyes. “Yes.” He would continue to lie to save his (and Lisbon’s) life. Even if Lisbon had no idea of where he was, Jane knew that Red John would never check the credibility of his story; it would have been too dangerous for the serial killer to step outside his own hideout, especially if he had been telling the truth. Jane watched Red John give a brisk nod, before he felt a hand smack hard against his face without warning and he flinched at the pain. His cheek stung from the brute force the hand had displayed across his face, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off of Red John.
Red John tilted his lips into a curved smile and Jane had a strange feeling that he was missing something awfully important, as the killer spoke again. “I don’t know why you’re trying to protect Agent Lisbon, Mr. Jane. You know she isn’t here and I certainly know she isn’t here. Who exactly do you think you are trying to play against? Agent Wainwright? Agent Van Pelt?” Jane continued to stare at Red John, who had leaned back in his chair and had crossed his arms against his chest. “You’re not in the minor leagues anymore, Mr. Jane. I did my research of where exactly Agent Lisbon was, as soon as I was informed that you were here.” Jane felt his heart skip a beat within his chest. Red John knew exactly where Lisbon was? Had he kidnapped her? Red John shook his head, as if the killer knew what he was thinking. “Agent Lisbon is safe at home, Mr. Jane. She left her office after you two fought and she is now currently sitting at home, drowning her sorrows in a bottle of tequila.” Jane blinked. “I have to say though; the way your Agent Lisbon went through her first bottle makes me wonder if she isn’t a degenerate alcoholic.” Red John laughed, while Jane tensed. Lisbon wasn’t an alcoholic or degenerate! Rage flew through him at Red John’s words and he tried to lunge at the serial killer, who merely seemed amused at his behavior. “Of course, if I were around you all of the time; I’d drink from the bottle too.”
“Do they even have alcohol in Hell?” Jane quipped with a smirk. It probably wasn’t a good idea to taunt a serial killer, but the killer hadn’t given him a choice. Jane couldn’t kill him, let alone move, and his words were the only buffer he had left. Red John chuckled in response.
“You and I both know there is no Hell, Mr. Jane.” Red John said, after he had calmed down. “However, absinthe would be the Devil’s choice of liqueur.” Jane said nothing, as Red John continued on. “I would like to make an unusual request, but would you allow for us to speak candidly to one another?”
“I don’t know, can we?” Jane asked. Red John chuckled again. “You’ve already had somebody slap me across the face; we might as well already be married.” Red John stood slowly from his chair, and turned to face one of the various windows built along the dining room wall.
“I can tell that you’re trying to figure out why I’ve invited you here.” Red John spoke and Jane almost rolled his eyes; tactful or not, the idea that he wouldn’t be trying to figure it out was absolutely asinine. Red John kept his back to him, as he continued on. “I don’t think it would come to much surprise to you that I was Amy’s Uncle Frew.” He suddenly didn’t feel that bad about the girl’s passing, especially if it kept her away from such a monster. “I wanted the girl to join me, but clearly her family had other ideas.” Jane could hear the grimace in his voice. “I hadn’t planned on having her sister killed, but I needed the CBI involved.” The unspoken implication that Red John had needed him on the case didn’t go misunderstood between them both. “Just because I don’t leave a smiley face behind, Mr. Jane, it doesn’t mean I’m not the one pulling the strings.”
Thinking back, Jane should have known something was way off with the case. Alice’s lifeless body had been found in her single dorm room, after the Resident Advisor had stepped into the room to do a room check. In Alice’s bloodstream, there had been enough poison to kill a horse and yet, it had been a suspected suicide at first. Amy, who apparently called her sister every three days, had been the one to clue them into the not so possible homicide, and like a fool, he had completely missed all the common signs of a budding psychopath: the shallow emotions, the lack of guilt (up until the end, where he had a feeling she had also been drugged to take her own life), the seamless manipulations, and the countless lies that she had told them both.
In his mind, Amy had been painted the victim of abuse, when in fact; she had been so far off from being a victim.
“I taught my niece well, Mr. Jane.” Red John said. “It’s really a shame that I won’t be able to groom her anymore.” Jane tried to keep from making a face and gagging. Psychopath or not, Amy hadn’t deserved being used by somebody she had implicitly trusted. “I guess you win some and you lose some though, right?” Red John turned around to lean his back against one of the covered windows with a half-lidded smile and Jane tensed. Timothy Carter, just before he had been murdered, had said the same words to Lisbon over O’Laughlin. “I’m sure you know how the saying goes though.” Jane struggled against the hold again, even though it was still completely pointless. “You’re not going to escape, Mr. Jane. You’ve come to my humble abode upon my invite, and allowing you to leave without hearing my plan would be dreadfully awful and rude of me.” The sycophant holding tight onto him snickered, which only served to fill him with more dread. What was Red John planning for him? This entire meeting was way too staged just to have a basic conversation, before turning him loose. Jane continued to stare Red John down, as the man spoke again. “I’m sure you remember Rebecca?”
Jane nearly scoffed, “how could I forget her, you killed her.” Of course, the woman had shot and killed four men in order to help her “master” Red John stay untouched. “Poison, if I seem to remember correctly.”
“I didn’t want to kill her, Mr. Jane.” Red John explained with a frown. “I cared deeply for Rebecca and I was sad to see her go. She made me feel loved.” Jane pulled a face; how anybody could love such a monster was beyond him.
“I’m sure she did.” Jane responded, as Red John chuckled again. He had absolutely no doubts that the serial killer had outstanding persuasion skills, but how anybody could be that ignorant, he had no idea. Red John was a cold-blooded killer and if tigers couldn’t change their stripes, Red John wasn’t about to change his tune. Rebecca had been naïve enough to believe that the man was “changing the world” with his ideas of love and enlightenment, when in fact, the man was trying to depopulate it via his knife. “What did you promise her, by the way?” Red John stilled and Jane ignored the almost Lisbon-like voice in his head, telling him that taunting a serial killer wasn’t a good idea. “Cheap sex?” He almost wasn’t too surprised when he was slapped across the face again.
“You always have amused me, Patrick.” Red John stated with a slight smile. “It’s too bad that you will forever cease to amuse me in about three hours.” Jane stared at the masked man in veiled confusion; three hours from then, would have made it midnight and he knew Red John killed at all hours of the night. Why in the world would the man wait until midnight to end his life, especially if he knew he was lying about Lisbon? “I’m not killing you, Mr. Jane. I’m merely…” Red John paused. Jane wondered if he was trying to find the right words, as the man brought his hand to his chin. “…borrowing your body for an indefinite amount of time.”
“You’re kidnapping me?” Jane asked in amusement. Kidnapping had never been Red John’s game. Kidnapping had always seemed like the easy way out, and Jane had an idea that Red John would not take too kindly to being called a coward. Red John continued to smile. “Eventually, somebody will find me. You’re human; you make mistakes too. Obviously.” Red John shook his head and Jane almost reminded him of Carter and Janet Peaks, but he kept his mouth shut.
“It shouldn’t have been this simple, Mr. Jane.” Red John spoke. Jane wondered what was so simple. The serial killer took a brief pause, which seemed more like a dramatic pause to him. “Rebecca once commented that I had been infiltrating the CBI all wrong. I had waved her minor concerns off and thinking back on it,” he continued on, “she was right.” Red John gained a wistful look about him and Jane turned his head away. He didn’t want to know what the man was thinking. “I realized all of this, after I heard Agents Darcy and Wainwright talking about you and me.” Jane knew what he had heard with a sinking revelation; Red John had probably heard Darcy telling Wainwright her suspicions about him being Red John, and the killer was now going to use that to his advantage. Red John’s lips curled into a smile again and Jane tried to keep his expression blank, even though he worried slightly over whatever Red John had planned for him.
“Lisbon is smart.” Lisbon had been the only person who knew him, and knew what he was capable of. Jane had a strong feeling that she would never believe him to be Red John, unless she had numerous amounts of damning proof. Red John took a step closer. “She knows I’m not you.” Fighting or not, he knew Lisbon had always thought the best of him and if she had ever thought him to be Red John, she had been a much better liar than he had ever given her credit for.
“I know.” Red John stated softly. Jane let out a shaky breath; just because he didn’t fear dying, didn’t mean he actually wanted to die.
Not before killing Red John anyway, Jane silently added with a grimace.
He watched Red John take a small step closer to him and Jane knew he couldn’t stab Red John, even if his “friends” had loosened their hold on his arms. Red John, as much as Jane hated to quietly admit it, had all of the power and the advantage here. “Of course, that’ll change once she meets the new you.” Jane was confused again. Red John’s use of “new you” obviously implied something horrible was afoot and he could only hope it wasn’t memory loss related, especially as he doubted the team could handle that again. “After all, you’ve just witnessed something terrible and a psychotic break in your mental state wouldn’t be terribly too unexpected.” Red John flashed him a twisted smile, which had Jane struggling against his hold again. Lisbon wouldn’t believe that something like Amy’s suicide would be just enough to cause a psychotic break; she’d be smart enough to know that something else was very much involved. If he did go crazy, Lisbon would investigate and eventually, she would discover Red John to be behind it. “Andrews, Thomas!” Red John moved to address his dumber-than-bricks sycophants, who grunted in response. “Take Mr. Jane away and prep him for the procedure.” Jane felt the sycophant pull him from the chair and drag him backwards, but he struggled against the action. He needed to know what procedure!
“Procedure?” Jane voiced, as Red John’s “friends” dragged him toward the doorway of the room. Red John stilled the two with the lift of his hand, before the man glanced at him. “What procedure?”
“How truly rude of me,” Red John replied, “I suppose you should know that the indefinite borrowing of your body allows me for me to become permanently you.” Jane furrowed his brows, as the serial killer continued to laugh. “Body swapping isn’t just for science fiction fantasies anymore, Mr. Jane, it’s for us also.” Before Jane had a chance to say anything further, both of the men already had him out of the room and down the candlelit hallway.
All-knowing and haunting, Red John’s laughter trailed after him.
Jane felt one of the men tighten a pair of leather straps around his wrists, as he tried to arch his back away from the metal table that he had been thrown onto. The sycophant who had kicked him earlier, Andrews, merely grinned down at him as he tightened the leather strap across his abdomen. He grunted at the tight pressure against his sore ribs; his heart pounding within his chest and his mouth dry.
"You shouldn't panic, Patrick," Andrews calmly stated, his voice coming from somewhere above Jane's head. Jane tried to twist and turn his head to see what was happening, but the bulging strap across his neck kept him from doing so, "this will be a painless procedure, really. You'll thank Red John for fixing your life, especially with that little bitch of yours." Jane felt a sudden heat flush through his body and he gritted his teeth; Lisbon deserved to be treated better than that. "I bet she's good in bed, eh, Patty?"
"You son of a...!" Jane found his mouth stuffed with something coarse. He tried to force the offending item out with his tongue, but it was of no use; the item wouldn't bulge.
Andrews laughed. "Little thing like that, I bet she's a wild thing in the sack." Jane struggled against his leather restraints; he was going to kill the bastard. "You can't honestly tell me that you've never thought about tapping that hot little thing, can you?" Lisbon was just a friend! He couldn't deny that she was attractive, but he had never seen her as anything more than a best friend and the idea that he could even use her body for sex disgusted him. "I'd give my right arm to lap up her..." Jane narrowed his eyes and flared his nostrils. If he had been able to escape from his restraints, his hands would have gone straight for the man's neck only to break it in half.
"Stop playing with him and come help me," Thomas’s gruff voice interrupted from somewhere across the room, "the boss won't be too happy if you don't have everything ready for him." Jane heard footsteps echo around the room, as he stared up at the white ceiling-decorated with silver vents. Although he hadn't gotten a good view of the room previously, he had a strong feeling that the room, with its two stainless steel tables and endless drains upon the floor with vents upon the walls, had once served as a private mortuary. Jane honestly didn't know whether to be more frightened by the fact that Red John owned a mortuary or the fact he was in one and couldn't see what was going to happen to him.
He managed to swallow through the gag in his mouth, before he thought back to what Red John had said. Had the serial killer been pulling his leg about the body swap crack? Body swapping, something he had only ever witnessed on old black and white television movies and in books, didn’t exist.
Did it?
If it weren’t for the gag in his mouth, he would have scoffed at his own second guessing. The entire concept of body swapping was created by science fiction junkies, who had probably thought that their own lives were too boring to dabble in.
Was it possible that Red John’s use of body swapping was a euphemism for something much darker? He felt his pulse begin to race and he heard the sound of his heart thrash in his ears. Were Lisbon and the team going to find his body; completely mangled and crudely disemboweled somewhere, due to the various cutting tools strung high and low throughout the room?
He couldn't even begin to imagine how Lisbon would react if the sight of his mangled body greeted her. Jane doubted she would cry, only because the senior agent had always felt that she had to remain strong in front of her unit. But if she had stumbled upon his body alone, he could imagine the slender brunette bent over and dry heaving at the sight of his bloody corpse.
If the gag hadn’t been in his mouth, he would have frowned. Jane didn’t want Lisbon or any of the team stumbling upon his mangled corpse, but he didn’t want them not finding him either. If Red John had taken his wife and child, he would have never given up the hope of finding them alive. Living with the general assumption that anybody, kidnapped by a serial killer, could walk through the door at any moment or could never be found at all, was something he would never wish upon any of Lisbon’s team.
The sudden sound of echoing footsteps within the room interrupted his thoughts and refocused his attention on whoever had just stepped into the room. He had a strong feeling that Thomas and Andrews were still in the room, because he had heard them shuffling around earlier, and that the new person wasn’t a friendly person. He tried to strain his hearing over his thudding heartbeat and the blood rushing in his ears, but he could only hear the eerie sounds of silence. He tried to fight his way from the restraints again, as he tried to push the gag from his mouth with his nearly dried tongue, before he heard Red John's chuckle from near him.
Jane stilled completely and forced his eyeballs up in their sockets to try and locate the serial killer, which he couldn’t do. Red John was somewhere in the large room with him, but the serial killer wasn’t anywhere within his line of sight.
“He looks so comfortable upon the table, doesn’t he?” Jane heard Red John speak, his tone dripped of pure sarcasm. “Who decided upon the leather restraints at the neck?”
“That would be I, sir.” Thomas replied.
“They’re an excellent touch.” Red John smoothly answered, before he fell silent and Jane heard his heavy footsteps again. “My neck won’t be in a restraint, will it?”
“No, sir.” Thomas tried to reassure his master. “We will have to restrain your arms, but only because of the violent reactions that you might experience.” Jane furrowed his brows, already tired of the white ceiling above him. Why would Red John have a violent reaction to killing him? What was truly going on? Red John had a plethora of weapons scattered around the room, but he wanted to continue using the restraints? It made no sense. Jane kept glancing around for Red John, who was still nowhere to be seen.
"Don't look so troubled, Mr. Jane. I wouldn't dare do anything to hurt you, and this body swapping procedure is relatively harmless." Jane tried to push the gag out again; his mouth free from all saliva. "I'd take your gag out, but I don't want to hear anymore nasty things about myself and my friends." He heard Andrews snicker. "And I'm quite positive you'll try and scream, which is something we can't have. I have great use for you," Red John continued, "and if you're found before I can use you, I think I'll just have to kill Agent Lisbon."
Jane arched up against his restraints again in anger.
"I wouldn't want to kill her, Patrick." Red John said. Jane didn't believe him at all; all serial killers lied. "I have a certain amount of begrudging respect for her. She spent years putting up with you and your antics, and if I killed her, I'd miss the closeness that we all share." Jane heard Red John chuckle and he felt even more driven to kill the twisted bastard. Red John and Lisbon shared nothing, and his imagined "closeness" with her sent shivers through his restrained legs. "And you wouldn't want her death on your hands, would you? I know you're better than that, Patrick." Jane felt a hand on his arm, which made him try and jerk his head free from the tight restraints. "I know you don't trust me, but I want to tell you a little story before we begin." Red John said nothing and Jane almost rolled his eyes. What kind of sick psychopath wanted to tell a story before having him killed? "Years ago, I had a chance encounter to work with Dr. Derrick Kraze; a wonderful man and even more brilliant scientist, who had been researching the theoretical possibilities of body swapping." Jane didn't believe him or his story at all. "I was mainly taking notes for him and I couldn't believe my eyes, until I witnessed the procedure between Dr. Kraze's teaching assistant and her best friend. I admit, I was skeptical at first, but I reviewed all my written notes and realized that Dr. Kraze was onto something." Red John paused, before he continued again. "Just imagine if you could swap bodies with anyone in the world! You could gain access into confidential files or gain information by merely looking like the other person. You have to admit, real or not, it sounds like the setup for the most perfect crime. If you can swap back before being caught." Jane felt the insides of his stomach roll. The more Red John spoke, the less Jane thought the serial killer was kidding. How had Red John been able to obtain his hands on all of the information? Was it actually real? "I've heard the comparisons between myself and you all of the time, and Agent Darcy's comment about you working for me made me call up my good friend, Dr. Kraze." Jane felt his heart sink into his stomach. This wasn't good. "He refused to help me out, and if you’re smart, you know saying no to me is a bad thing.” Jane could hear the sinister smile in his voice. “So, I did what I had to do to get what I needed.” Red John had killed Dr. Kraze; that much was obvious. Jane felt Red John’s hand yank up the sleeve to his shirt, but he still couldn’t see the man. “This entire process is painless, I promise. You’ll feel a little sting, have some minor discomfort and side effects, but you won’t remember any of that later on.” Jane felt Red John tighten a tourniquet against his upper right arm, while he tried to struggle again. He didn’t want to be Red John, he only wanted to be himself! “My men will keep you in good company.” Jane heard a snort from somewhere within the room. “You’ll be fed, treated well and be released on my orders.” The tight tourniquet against his inner elbow was yanked again, much to Jane’s displeasure.
“When I get out of this, I will kill you.” Jane swore and Red John chuckled. “Lisbon will kill you.”
“If you remember anything I’ve shared with you today, Mr. Jane.” Red John stated. “I’ll be immensely surprised.” Before Jane could ponder any further on what the serial killer had meant by his cryptic statement, he felt something pinch the inside of his elbow. “Sweet dreams,” was the last thing he heard, as whatever Red John had injected into his bloodstream took effect and everything went dark.
--
Part One - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five 1/2 - Part Five 2/2 - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine 1/2 - Part Nine 2/2 - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Part Sixteen 1/2 - Part Sixteen 2/2 - Part Seventeen - Part Eighteen - Part Nineteen - Part Twenty 1/2 - Part Twenty 2/2 - Part Twenty-One