FIC: Acrimonious (9-1-2/21)
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.
9 1/2-
Red John perched himself on the edge of Teresa’s bed as he waited for the brunette to join him. His foot tapped against the floor in impatience and he glanced toward the alarm clock that read 9:30 PM in neon numbering.
He had been waiting for Teresa for the past hour; both of their dinners simmered on the stove, though he doubted that she knew he had broken into her home to fix her something a little different than the usual takeout in her refrigerator. Nearly two hours ago, Teresa had sent him a small text about how she had to completely wrap up the Killian case and meet with Wainwright before she could leave the CBI. Red John hadn’t thought that the meeting or the closing of the case would take all night, considering Wainwright didn’t tend to hold long one-on-one meetings and how they had nobody to arrest; Avery Quentin had taken his fiancée, Tracie Killian into the Applewood Trails and had shot her in the abdomen for Jordan Eager. However, Avery apparently hadn’t anticipated on his fiancée already knowing about Jordan and poisoning the left-over chicken that Avery had taken from his shared home with Tracie to share in bed with Jordan.
Grace had called the case a “twisted soap opera” and he had quietly agreed with the little tramp; Avery could have left his fiancée to stay with Jordan, but no, the man had thought he could have everything he wanted in his hands.
He was a true idiot, Red John thought with a smirk. If Avery had killed Tracie from the very beginning of his affair with Jordan, Avery would have never died and he could have had kept his little boy toy all to himself. Nobody liked to be toyed with and Avery had died for his sheer stupidity.
Although, in his time with the Serious Crimes Unit, he had learned that killers often thought they were smarter than they actually were. The woman with the poker face, the man with the “air tight” alibi, the brother who loved his sister, the mother who only tried to do the best for her children all had one thing in common when the CBI finally caught them for their crimes-their egos and hubris. Teresa had arrested all of those people for the murder of their loved ones and enemies on account of justice yet she hadn’t even arrested Patrick, who had murdered two men directly and fifteen individuals indirectly.
Dumar Hardy and Timothy Carter, of course, had both been killed by Patrick; both of them would have led promising lives within his organization, if Patrick hadn’t felt the need to pull the trigger at every little scare or situation that came his way. Hardy would have never killed Teresa as pointing the gun in her direction had only been meant as a warning sign for everyone involved and Timothy Carter, if Patrick had listened closely enough, hadn’t been the actual Red John that had killed his wife and child. Patrick had rushed into the situation without the details and yet Teresa still kept him around to close cases.
Of course, Teresa kept Patrick around for other reasons besides closing cases. Her reasons were probably the same reasons he kept her around now, which he didn’t mind at all; attraction or not, she was a good lay.
As for the fifteen indirect deaths, Patrick had brought those upon himself. Yes, Red John had either pulled the trigger or given the order for the deaths to happen but if Patrick had just kept his head down and stopped pulling his idiotic stunts, nobody would have ever had to die.
Angela and Charlotte Jane had died due to Patrick’s mouth and carelessness; back then, Patrick had been blind and he had opened his eyes to a whole new world through the use of a knife; that it was completely possible to lose somebody because of your thoughtless blabber and your refusal to pay attention to them. In his opinion, Patrick was a fool and fools always needed to be taught how to appreciate what they once had.
Jared Renfrew and his tasteless lady friend’s painful end had been due to Patrick’s need to stick his nose into everybody’s business. If the blonde had just left Renfrew behind bars, nobody would have needed to die and Red John would have never needed to step foot into a disease-ridden Tijuana motel room with enough viruses to kill a priest.
Samuel Bosco, his team and Rebecca had been collateral damage, much like Teresa had made herself out to be. Patrick should have never pulled the trigger on Hardy as his trigger happiness had been one of the main reasons (besides the apparent dislike for the FBI) that Virgil Minelli had brought in an additional team to take over the Red John case. Fortunately for him and his murderous ways, Bosco hadn’t been intelligent when he had hired Rebecca and Rebecca had attempted to take him out without a second thought. Teresa should have learned then that Patrick was a dangerous person to be around, but no. She was completely loyal to him and would do anything for him and her loyalties, he knew, would eventually get them all killed; it was a habit he would be happy to break her from.
While he hadn’t actually killed Kristina Frye, Red John technically considered her to be “dead” as her body was a mute within a psychiatric ward. Patrick had indirectly caused the torture that he had gifted upon the fraud of a psychic for forgetting the minor detail that he had been the one to cause his family’s murder. Red John wasn’t vain or selfish, but Patrick was and that would never change. Patrick had always needed to have everything for himself (the beautiful woman to be his wife, the collection of beautiful cars that he had stored away somewhere off the grid, and more money than he could ever truly need), and hopefully Patrick had learned that one should never live above their means.
Once a carney, Red John thought, always a carney.
Deep down, Red John knew he couldn’t escape the status quo. Children from abusive homes, he had once remembered reading, were bound to cause more problems as adults and that was why he had always kept to himself. He hadn’t ever wanted to become a serial killer but the darkness fostering within him, always just under the surface, had become so great until he hadn’t been able to ignore it anymore and the knife had just felt right in his hands. And his first known kill as Red John had made him feel something other than the emptiness and rage that he had continuously felt from the moment that his father had first beat him with a belt; it made him feel powerful and who didn’t enjoy feeling powerful? He had enjoyed controlling the flow of the red blood from the body to the floor; he had loved the symphony of screams that he had conducted with his knife and the adrenaline that had pumped through his veins, as he had made that first jarring cut through warm skin and soft flesh, had been so intoxicating that he couldn’t help but keep coming back for more.
Red John was a sadist; he had never killed or injured animals as a small child and he had never had an overly strong emotional attachment to his mother (outside of the fact that the woman had given birth to him, she had paid for her sins in the form of bloodletting when he had been thirteen-years-old), but he had known from the moment that he had watched his mother drag a razor across her own pale wrists and had allowed for the bathtub to be painted red with her life as she had drawn a smiley face with her wrist against the white back wall of the tub that watching others be in pain brought him a certain amount of enjoyment that hurting himself would never bring.
“Living vicariously through the pain of others,” Orville Tanner had once called it after Red John had confessed to him about watching his mother die and he had immediately agreed with him. Shortly after father and son had put the woman to rest, Red John had tried to duplicate the same feelings of enjoyment by dragging a knife across his own skin, but nothing had happened aside from a nasty scar on his inner arm and the knowledge that he had spent three days unconscious due to his father’s hand.
Red John clenched his fists together and inhaled sharply. Going down that line of thought was extremely dangerous, especially when Teresa could walk into her bedroom at any given moment and see him consumed with rage. He didn’t want to hurt her yet and with the way he was currently presenting himself, he knew that he would lash out and he would bring his hand against her face which would ruin everything that he had worked for.
Fifteen indirect deaths, Red John tried to distract himself, how did Patrick cause fifteen indirect deaths?
Patrick hadn’t taken the lighter to Todd Johnson, O’Laughlin had; but Patrick had caused the man’s death by just being there. If it had been anybody else investigating the crimes that Johnson had committed, the man would have still been alive and Red John wouldn’t have felt the need to recruit others more useless.
And of course, there was Craig O’Laughlin. Red John continued to clench his fists tightly together out of annoyance. O’Laughlin would have left Grace, Teresa and Madeleine Hightower alone if Patrick hadn’t called Teresa to tip her off to him being the mole. Red John hadn’t been too thrilled with O’Laughlin after he had fallen in love with Grace, but after he had given it much thought, he had realized that gifting O’Laughlin with his heart’s desire would have held benefits for them both. O’Laughlin would have had Grace as his beautiful wife and Red John could have used O’Laughlin’s love for Grace to turn her into another one of his accomplices.
It really was such a shame that O’Laughlin had died too; the young agent had been going places and Patrick had taken that all away from him with one ill-fated phone call.
James Panzer, the San Joaquin Killer, had been slaughtered due to Patrick’s unflattering need to prove everyone else wrong. Red John would have eventually made himself known to the world again as he had been waiting for the opportune moment to strike, but Patrick just had to hurry him along by provoking Panzer into slandering him on national television. Red John had briefly considered allowing Panzer to get away with his words but if he hadn’t killed Panzer, Agent Darcy would have never provided with the inklings to a perfect plan. The San Joaquin Killer, who had thought himself to be more difficult to kill than Red John, hadn’t been anything to be worried about.
The entire state of California would eventually forget about the San Joaquin Killer, but nobody would forget about Red John. The San Joaquin Killer would become a mere footnote in some Californian tourist guide, while Red John would live on forever in the fierce reminder of a bloody red smiley face left above a sea of lifeless bodies.
He unclenched his fists and smiled to himself. Everybody felt the need to be remembered in some way, good or bad, and he had done just that. He would go down in infamy, along with the likes of the Zodiac killer and Jack the Ripper for having taken so many victims and having avoided the police for so long.
His last kill within his own body though, the morgue attendant, had died because of Patrick’s lies to both the CBI and the FBI. If the fool had just told Wainwright and Darcy that Timothy Carter wasn’t actually Red John and that the real Red John was still alive, the death of the youthful morgue attendant would have never needed to happen.
Patrick had caused all of those deaths and he would continue to kill all of those closest to him, until the Serious Crimes Unit had dwindled down from five members to only one.
“Hey.” Teresa’s voice interrupted his thoughts and he glanced up from the floor to stare at her, a smile on his lips. Teresa had no idea of what he was planning for her and for her unit and he had to keep it that way, as the woman would never understand that all of his actions were for her. “I’m sorry I’m late. I didn’t expect Wainwright’s meeting to drag thirty minutes longer than usual, but apparently he needed to discuss the budget cuts and how they would affect our unit.” Teresa hadn’t even bothered asking him on how he had gotten into her home, although he figured that she probably knew how. It wasn’t, after all, rocket science on how to break into a home for him or for Patrick Jane.
Red John watched as Teresa stood in front of him, her back to him, as she shrugged off her black jacket and it fell to the floor. He took a moment to stare at Teresa’s toned arms before she pulled off her shirt and allowed it to fall to the floor moments later and he was left to admire her pale backside, decorated with the faintest of scars.
He stood from the bed and wrapped his arms around her waist. Red John rested his chin on her shoulder as they stared at each other within Teresa’s white vanity mirror. Teresa looked amused at his behavior and he grinned at their reflections within the light of her room; he had often imagined them standing together, his arms wrapped tightly around her stomach, from within his own body and his lips twitched. In Patrick’s body, he felt the overwhelming need to be gentle and kind with her. In his own body though, he wouldn’t be so kind and gentle to her; he would give her what she truly deserved and he would take great pleasure in it.
“What are you smiling at?” Teresa asked him with her brows furrowed and he chuckled in response.
“You and how lucky I am.” He half lied. Teresa rolled her eyes. “What?” He asked her with a laugh. “You don’t believe me?”
“No, I don’t.” Teresa argued. “It seems that every time you compliment me, we end up having sex.”
“And how is that a bad thing?”
“It wouldn’t be a bad thing,” Teresa coyly admitted, “if I wasn’t tired.”
Red John briefly pressed his lips against her neck. “Giving compliments never killed anyone, Teresa. You rarely get told that you’re beautiful and that’s what I’m doing.” Teresa remained quiet and he trailed his lips down her neck, nipping at her soft skin every so often. “Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe you though.” He continued with his lips at her neck; the hum of the air conditioning and the hurried breaths from her were the only things that he heard, as he moved his hands from her stomach and quickly moved to unhook her bra with his nimble fingers.
The offending object fell to the floor and he watched her kick it away from them with her feet, before he glanced back at their reflection; Teresa’s pert pink-tipped nipples and achingly swollen jutted breasts stared back at him, before he captured them both with his hands. Red John could feel her heartbeat in his hands and he continued to smile; almost every serial killer wished to control all of their enemies and he had gotten what he had wanted from her and so much more.
“I thought you said no sex.” Red John teased her.
“This isn’t sex.” Lisbon answered as she leaned against him. “This is comfort between two people after a long day of work.” His smile grew at her words as he had said the same thing when they had gotten together for the first time. Red John slowly moved his fingers to massage each breast; he could feel them rising at his touch and he focused his attention on their reflection again. Teresa seemed relaxed with her head rolled back and her eyes closed as he continued with his ministrations against her soft breasts and his heart constricted slightly at the sight before him.
She’s beautiful, Red John thought, and she’s all mine.
He heard her moan lightly as he brushed his fingers over her hardened nipple and his smile became a small smirk. Patrick would have never been able to fully satisfy Teresa; he would have been able to get her into the bed and he would have been able to have sex with her, but he would have never been able to make love to her or drive her wild with the littlest things as Patrick would have never been capable of that ability. Patrick only knew of revenge and loss, he knew nothing of the sensibility and sensuality that it took to keep a woman truly happy and satisfied.
“We should take this to the bed.” Teresa suggested, breathlessly and he pressed his lips against her neck again. He would have loved to fuck her again as he hadn’t had his cock in her for almost two days and while the idea was extremely tempting, he knew he couldn’t. Red John had other things to do and having sex with her would made him exhausted and he couldn’t be exhausted when killing, as mistakes were made out of exhaustion.
“I have dinner on the stove for us both.” Red John told her. “It won’t keep for much longer.” He watched Teresa open her eyes and pull her lips into a firm smile, before she wriggled her away around in his grasp to face him; her firm breasts pressed against his clothed chest.
“I guess we’ll have to be quick then, now won’t we?” Teresa pressed her lips against his and he felt her hands lingering around the waistband of his pants. Even if she hadn’t done anything yet to deserve the comment, she was still going to be the death of him and before he could even blink, he felt his pants fall to his ankles.
Red John watched Teresa fall to her knees with a soft smile as he felt her stroke her nimble fingers across his swollen dick. The gentle touch she provided made him ache for more and he told her as much without words; his hands buried themselves in her hair and he moved his attention back to his reflection. He felt her warm breath against his head and he shivered in pleasure while he waited for her take his length into her mouth and swallow him whole. The little minx though, he knew, wouldn’t make everything so dry and simple-Teresa tended to tease with that little tongue of hers and he had discovered that he liked it as foreplay made the actual act a million times better.
He felt Teresa’s tongue behind his head; her wet tongue felt like dry ice against his dick and he inhaled sharply with his mouth as she continued to tease. Her tongue danced across every inch of skin and he felt it circle the tip of his dick before she took his arousal into her mouth and sucked.
Red John threw his head backwards and closed his eyes, mindful of not hurting her with his hands that he still had buried in her hair as he kept her on her knees. The feeling of her mouth wrapped around him; her teeth gently scraping against the sensitive skin, her tongue lathering every inch she could fit into her mouth and the knowledge that she was submitting herself to him, sent him over the edge in a fit of ecstasy and he came within her mouth with a loud, shuddering bellow.
His lungs fought for air as she continued to coax him into a continued state of ecstasy, until she finally pulled away from him and he had a chance to refill his lungs with air once again. Red John didn’t bother to glance at her again as he hurriedly bent down and pulled up his boxers and pants to rest on his hips again.
“Why don’t you go take a shower?” Red John suggested to her as he worked to redo the button on his dark navy blue pants. “I’ll go and put our dinner on the table.” He glanced up from his silver button to find Teresa in front of him, her arms crossed against her breasts and he sighed inaudibly. He had allowed for the woman to pleasure him yet the woman wanted more from him? Red John indiscreetly rolled his eyes at her hot-and-cold behavior before he pressed his lips against hers again. She responded to his touch and he pulled away from her with a small, teasing smile. “If you don’t want your kitchen to catch fire, you better take your shower.”
He watched Teresa narrow her eyes. “If you cause my kitchen to go on fire, you’re paying to fix it.” Red John waved her off; Teresa’s threats were extremely hollow and they held absolutely no water to them, whatsoever. He knew he had Teresa wrapped so tightly around his finger that she would never do anything to him, outside of giving him more paperwork to complete, which was nothing.
“The sooner you let me go, the less chances you have of a charred ceiling and higher insurance premium.” Red John responded, teasingly and Teresa rolled her eyes in response. “You’ve worked hard, love. A little you-time before dinner certainly couldn’t hurt.” Teresa opened her mouth and he interrupted her again. “I’ve cooked for you before. I know where everything in your kitchen is.” He had made her breakfast after their first time together and while she had been mortified that he had gone through her kitchen without permission, she had immediately calmed down after the first bite of pancake.
Teresa’s shoulders dropped slightly and Red John knew that he had won. “What are we having for dinner?”
“You’ll find out soon enough, I promise.” Red John told her and before she could say anything else, he pressed his lips against the temple of her forehead and left the bedroom to finish the second-to-last part of his brilliant plan.
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Part Nine 2/2