You Never Know What You Have
You Never Know What You Have
Author: vanrigsby
Artist: kathiann
Link to art: Here
Word Count:
Rating: T - major character death.
Summary: You never know what you have until you lose it. Once you lose it, you can never get it back. Five times Red John took Lisbon from Jane (and one time he didn't.)
Notes: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. A lot. It was hard to write, but hopefully turned out okay. A major thanks to kathiann, for putting up with me.
I.
Jane lay with his eyes closed, pretending to nap on the couch as life in the bullpen continued on around him. He could hear Cho and Rigsby tossing a ball to one another in the most exaggerated way possible without leaving their chairs, and he could hear Grace’s soft-but-attempting-to-be-stern voice reprimanding them as she continued to work. Ah, how the team acted without a new case. The only thing that could have made it better was annoying a certain brunette Senior Agent from her couch, rather than his.
With a muffled groan, Jane stretched his tired muscles and sat up, swinging his legs around. He flashed Grace a mega-watt grin as he stood, already making his way out of the bullpen in the direction of Lisbon’s office.
“You’d better not be going to annoy the boss,” Rigsby warned him, catching the ball one-handed. “She’s in a mood.”
Jane shrugged, a grin spreading over his features as he continued to walk. “Meh,” was his response.
The blinds of Lisbon’s office were shut as he approached, and Jane knew that meant Lisbon wanted nothing more than to be alone. He opened the door tentatively, wary that any disturbance might send a stapler flying at his head.
“Lisbon?” he purposefully made his voice soft. When she didn’t answer, he tried again, opening the door wider. “Lisbon?”
After no response a second time, he opened the door and stepped inside of the office. He glanced around, surprised that his petite boss was nowhere in sight. Her desk lay undisturbed, papers strewn across the wooden surface.
“Guys,” Jane leant out the doorway and waited for the team’s attention. When he had it, he continued. “Do you know where Lisbon is?”
He was met with a chorus of negative answers.
“Nope.”
“I thought she was in there.”
“Maybe she’s in the break room.”
Jane opted for the third suggestion, heading for the break room. When he got there, he found it to be empty. He rounded the corner, and almost bumped into someone.
“Sorry,” he began to apologise automatically, before taking in the person’s face. “Ron! Have you seen Lisbon?”
“No, sorry,” the other man replied. “Why?”
“Just looking for her is all,” Jane replied, reaching to take his phone from his pocket.
“Okay,” Ron replied, walking away.
Jane dialed Lisbon’s number from memory. All he received in return was Lisbon’s voice on the other end of the line, telling his to please leave a message and she’d get back to him as soon as she could. He snapped his phone shut with a huff. Where could she be? He was feeling in a particularly annoying mood.
Exasperated, Jane made his way to Lisbon’s office again. His eyes flicked to Lisbon’s desk, the idea of tidying the papers there beginning to sprout in his mind. It would either end in her gratitude or her complete and utter annoyance, both of which Jane found that he wouldn’t mind.
His shoes tapped soundlessly against the floor as he crossed to the desk. His eyes roamed, taking in all the information contained on the slips of paper, most of it containing complaints about him. A small chuckle formed in his throat, but he closed his mouth against it when something on the papers caught his eye. The curve of a smooth red line against the stark black and white of the paper surrounding it. Jane reached for it with careful fingers, lifting the corner of the paper as gently as if it were made of glass.
If it were glass, however, it would have shattered in the next moment, as when Jane’s eyes registered the symbol, his hand dropped the paper as if it had burned him, and he let out a small cry of shock. His hand flew to his mouth, his heart pounding furiously in his chest.
After a pause to attempt to gather his thoughts, Jane finally moved. His hand shakily dragged the paper towards him as he collapsed into Lisbon’s desk chair. Black words jumped out at his as if mocking him, the taunting red smiley grinning up from the white sheet.
I’m sorry, Mr. Jane. She was just too beautiful to resist.
Jane let out another cry, this one louder this time, and stood up. By the time he reached the door, the three agents were already on their feet.
“Jane?”
“Are you okay?”
“What is it?”
The words bottlenecked at his lips as he choked on their syllables. Unable to make any sound, he simply gestured inside the room, and Rigsby, Cho and Grace all rushed towards him.
Jane stepped back slowly until his knees hit the edge of Lisbon’s couch. He sunk into the welcoming white cushions and his chest felt tight, as if a giant hand were squeezing it.
He could hear nothing but the rushing of blood in his ears. The voices of the team sounded as if he were underwater, as though his ears were filled with cotton wool. Only one thought raced through his mind, circling endlessly and tirelessly, like a dog chasing its tail.
He has her.
II.
“Lisbon,” Jane’s voice echoed against the wood of Lisbon’s front door. He knocked again, his eyes glancing at his silent phone. He’d tried ringing Lisbon numerous times, and each time it had rung out. They had a new case, and the team was already headed there. It was his job to retrieve their boss. “Lisbon,” he called again.
His eyes skimmed the quiet street as his foot tapped impatiently on the ground. The area was practically deserted, he watched as a lone leaf skipped along the bitumen. The wind blew, and he tugged his jacket around himself tighter.
Making an executive decision, he knew it was time to go inside Lisbon's house, to get away from the cold if nothing else. He reached inside his jacket pocket, searching for his trusty lock-picking device, if not something that would do just as well.
He pulled it out, grinning a little in smug satisfaction. Jane swiftly picked the lock on the front door, and it swung open silently. Jane stepped into Lisbon’s apartment, his eyes roving for the petite brunette. “Lisbon?” he called again, already heading towards the kitchen. There was no answer, but the coffee cup by the sink with half a mouthful of coffee in it told him that she couldn’t be far.
He wandered back out into the lounge room, his hand absentmindedly trailing along the back of her couch as he admired her pictures and photographs.
One of Lisbon and her three brothers caught his eye. They were young, Lisbon only about twelve. Her green eyes were sparkling with a life he had only seen in her eyes on a rare occasion, and she had an honest-to-god smile splitting her face. Jane snapped himself back into reality with a shake of his head. He was here to find Lisbon.
After thoroughly searching the bottom floor, Jane turned towards the staircase. The first stair creaked slightly under his weight, but he continued. He pulled out his phone as he ascended, dialing Lisbon’s number. As it began to ring, he paused at the top of the stairs. With a start, he heard a second phone beginning to ring across the landing, behind a door. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and headed for the door.
“You’d better be decent,” he called, a small grin beginning to paint his face as he reached for the knob.
As his hand touched the cool metal, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.
“Hello Grace,” he answered it one-handed.
“Jane?” he could instantly tell she was hiding something, and could almost see her biting her lip. “You might want to come here as soon as you can,” she said, after a pause.
His heart plummeted. There was only one thing Grace talked about in that tone of voice. And it was something, someone, he never wanted to hear of again. With his breath quickening subconsciously, he opened Lisbon’s bedroom door.
The first thing he saw was the smiley face, its deep scarlet contrasting with Lisbon’s cream walls. He froze, his eyes remaining on the gruesome symbol, his stomach churning as he fought the nearly overwhelming urge to be sick. His breath rushed out of him all at once, and it took every ounce of focus to draw it back in. He knew what he would find if he looked further down than the smiley.
“Jane?” Grace’s voice was still in his ear. “Are you there?”
“Grace,” was all Jane could make out, in a voice thick with tears. “Lisbon.”
At those words, it was as if he could no longer control his eyes, and they drifted down. A loud cry burst from his mouth and tears instantly began to fall down his cheeks.
“Jane? Are you okay?”
“Hurry,” Jane choked into the small speaker, before his phone clattered to the floor and he dropped to his knees.
X
Jane wasn’t even aware of when the team arrived. It was somewhere between one moment and the next. One moment he was alone, the next there were people all around him, and the team was all on the floor beside him. He felt as if his insides had been turned to ice, and all of him was frozen. Tears streamed down his face in a constant river, warped sobs bursting forth occasionally from his trembling lips.
She was gone. Thank to him, she was gone. Yet another beautiful and vital part of his life had been lost to this madman. Red John had taken his Angela, his Charlotte, his life and now his Lisbon. He’d distracted the entire team by taking the life of some innocent woman across town, and now Lisbon.
Jane choked on his next sob as he attempted to stifle it. He felt something inside of him shutting down as he looked up at the tear-stained faces of his team as they surrounded him.
Grace’s hair fell around her face in a red curtain from here her head was resting on Rigsby’s shoulder. Both of them had tear streaks painting their cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. Even the ever-stoic Cho’s eyes had welled up.
Jane swore, in that moment, that this bastard would die. He would make sure of it.
III.
Jane faced Lisbon across the doorway. The hallway was crowded with people, and Lisbon held her gun tightly.
“One, two, three,” Lisbon whispered, and kicked the door open. It flew against the wall with a deafening crash, and she stepped through the doorway.
The room was fairly large, with four stone walls and one window. There was a messy desk set up in the centre, at which sat a non-descript man who appeared to be writing a letter. He looked up as they entered.
Red John’s cackle echoed around the dingy stone room. “Pleasure to see you here Miss Lisbon, Mr. Jane.”
Lisbon moved slowly into the room, her gun held in front of her. Jane followed cautiously, eyeing Red John up and down with the kind of look that one would give the scum they find on the underside of a toilet.
“I see you brought your little friends.”
Jane saw Lisbon’s eyes flick to the window set into the wall, knowing there was a SWAT team on the other side, along with multiple police cars, and there were people backed up in the hallway behind them for what felt like miles.
“Yes,” Jane made his tone seem as indifferent as possible. “We did.” It came out almost conversationally.
“Well, looks like you’ve caught me,” Red John’s hands rose beside him slowly, his fingers spread. “Go on then.”
Lisbon stepped forward instinctively, and Jane held a hand out. It caught her around the middle, and she stopped in her tracks.
“Jane,” she hissed.
“Just be careful,” Jane knew his tone was slightly more caring than he would have liked, but he’d be damned if he let one more person he cared about die at the hands of the monster in front of them.
Lisbon gave him an almost imperceptible nod, and Jane dropped his hand.
She approached Red John slowly, a small team almost encircling her as she moved fluidly across the floor. Holstering her gun and pulling her handcuffs from her belt, she reached out and curled her fingers around Red John’s left wrist.
Red John bounded upwards with an agility that seemed supernatural, his body twisting and slamming into Lisbon’s. He crushed her against the stone, and Jane heard the whoosh of air from her lungs. The people closest to Lisbon dove in, tearing Red John away from her. As he moved back, Jane caught sight of the brunette.
Jane would have expected Lisbon to scream. But instead, Lisbon looked down, her face a mask of shock. Crimson blood spread across her shirt like a flower, at the same time a smug smirk spread across Red John’s face.
In a heartbeat, the room was full of people, guns drawn and shouts, but Jane took no notice of any of it. His eyes were riveted to his boss, who was sliding down the wall agonizingly slowly.
“Lisbon!” he cried, pushing past the SWAT team and the various other officers. He crouched by her limp frame, where an officer was already holding his hand to the wound on her chest.
“Allow me,” Jane’s voice nearly broke as he hurriedly took of his jacket and held it to her chest. The SWAT man’s expression turned equal parts quizzical and apprehensive.
“It’s okay,” Lisbon’s strained words floated between them. “The paramedics will be here soon.”
The other man nodded slowly, rising to his feet and jogging off to help the other officers.
Jane, being careful to keep pressure on his jacket, shifted as he lowered himself to the cold floor, pulling Lisbon’s body flush with his as he did. She nestled against his chest, her own rising and falling slowly and shakily.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“Not your fault,” Lisbon breathed out raggedly.
“It is,” Jane could feel her blood still seeping into the jacket; it was already nearly soaked through. Her face was getting lighter by the second. The knife must have hit something vital.
He wasn’t a religious man, but in that moment, he sent up a prayer to any god who was willing to listen. He couldn’t lose Lisbon. He couldn’t let another precious part of his life die by his own hands.
“Stay with me Lisbon.”
“Jane, it’s cold,” her voice was getting smaller. “I’m cold.”
“Oh, Teresa,” he whispered against her hair, the raven tresses tickling his nose.
“It’s okay Patrick,” her pale face turned up towards him. “I just wanted you to know how much I lo…” her voice trailed off, her head lolling into his chest.
“No, Lisbon,” his tone turned frantic. “Lisbon, stay with me.” When he lifted her head with his free hand, her eyes were glassy, the emerald orbs looking but not seeing.
“Help,” Jane cried, then louder. “HELP.”
A swarm of people descended upon him, but he barely noticed. All he could see were Lisbon’s blank eyes as he felt her heart stop beating beneath his hand.
She was gone.
IV.
Jane shifted his weight from foot to foot as he stood in the observation room. He’d never really been on this side of the mirror without Lisbon before, and what made it worse was seeing her on the other side of the table, staring blankly ahead, her lips unmoving and her eyes unseeing. Jane simply watched her. He’d been in this position before. With Kristina. He’d watched her for a while before entering, Before trying to talk to her. But there was one difference now. Lisbon was no longer beside him.
It was surprisingly hard to see her facing him, but not seeing anything. He’d never thought it would end up like this. Granted, he never wanted to feel anything for the team, but somehow, this petite brunette had slipped through the rapidly spreading crack in the icy exterior of his heart.
He’d always expected her to die at Red John’s hands, if it came to that. He thought that if Red John had captured her, as he had, that he would destroy her, just to destroy Jane even more. Jane hadn’t expected Lisbon to still be alive when they found her. But she was. She’d been sitting there, her legs dangling off the edge of a pristine white bed, her eyes glazed over and unfocused. No amount of coaxing, or shouting, or pleading could bring Lisbon back. She hadn’t uttered a word; nothing was working.
Rigsby opened the door beside him, startling Jane from his swirling thoughts.
“Jane?” the taller man seemed as rattled by this change in Lisbon as Jane was. “Agent Morris wants you to have a go.”
Something about conflict of interest or other had seen the team unable to interview their boss. Cho, Rigsby and Grace had all seemed like lost puppies; scared, confused and stressed out of their minds. So, they’d been forced to simply amble around aimlessly while their minds were all but focused on their tasks. In fact, Jane had thought they’d all gone for lunch to clear their heads.
“Sure,” the blonde replied, stepping towards the door. He followed the tall agent through the doorway and, after a quick briefing and set of rules by Agent Morris, into the interrogation room.
“Hey Lisbon,” he tested the water. She didn’t reply, but he didn’t expect anything different.
For a while, they sat in silence. Jane had been told to not push too hard, and so he didn't. He suddenly remembered how he’d been able to communicate with Kristina when she had been taken away from him like this.
“Rigsby,” he turned to the two-way mirror, where he knew the agent would be, “bring me a candle. Maybe some incense.”
He then spun around to face the brunette on the other side of the table. A thick, heavy silence fell over the two like a winter’s blanket. The semi-peace was shattered by the noise of the door opening, and the entrance of Rigsby, a candle in one hand and a few incense sticks and matches in the other. Rigsby placed the supplies gently in the table, as if he were presenting them to a king, before backing timidly out of the interrogation room and flicking off the light.
Jane struck a match, the small flame blazing up in the darkness and illuminating the woman across from him. Jane lit the candle carefully. The light sparked off Lisbon’s loose black curls, and her emerald eyes glimmered in the flickering glow.
“I call upon the spirit of Teresa Lisbon,” he said, trying to sound sincere and attempting to quell the feeling of foolishness that rose up inside of him. “Are you here Teresa?”
A serene and eerie smile crept across Lisbon’s features, as something small seemed to switch on behind her eyes. “Hello Patrick.”
“So glad you’re here,” Jane couldn’t help but feel a bit like a talk show host. “How are you?”
“Patrick, there is no need to worry,” it was odd to see Lisbon like this. There had always been some kind of spark inside of her, kind of like the candle that sat between them, a fire that had always kept her going. But now it was extinguished. Her eyes were the same colour, the same mesmerizing green, but they were blank, save for the miniscule light he had erected when lighting the candle. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“What did he do to you?” Jane’s voice began to rise.
“I’m safe, don’t worry,” the voice didn’t even sound like Lisbon’s. “I can see Angela and Charlotte. Your baby girl says hello.”
Jane coughed as something between fear, agony and sadness tore at his chest and constricted his airways. “Lisbon, come back to us.”
“I can’t, Patrick. I have to go.”
“No, Lisbon,” Jane cried, leaping from his chair so quick that it surprised even him. “Stay with me.”
“I’m sorry, Jane,” he thought he caught a glimpse of the real Lisbon, his Lisbon, break through. “But I must go. Red John tells me to send his regards. Go after him, Patrick.”
By this time, Jane was already on the other side of the table, his hands clasped firmly around Lisbon’s shoulders. He shook her gently. “Stay with me Lisbon, please.” But even as he said it, he saw the light, the tiny, precious light he had so carefully created fall away from Lisbon’s eyes. She was back to being a vessel, a vegetable. His arms slid around her shoulders, tugging her close to his chest, his chin atop her head.
“No, don’t go,” Jane whispered, and then quieter, “I need you.”
But even as Rigsby and a tentative Grace stepped into the room, Jane knew she was gone to a place where he could only hope she was safe, but she was untouchable.
V.
Jane’s hands twisted uneasily in the crisp hospital sheets. His long fingers tangled in the material, and he shook his hands to free them. There was a slight movement on the bed, and Jane looked up.
Lisbon hadn’t moved, but her head had rolled to one side, and she moaned a little. Jane reached out, placing his hand on top of hers, where it lay small and pale on the mattress.
“It’s okay,” he reassured her, his voice small against the blips and beeps of the various machine attached to his boss. “You’re going to pull through this.”
X
They’d been out for dinner, as a team, to celebrate the closing of their most recent case. He’d ordered the steak, but Lisbon had ordered the fish.
It had all gone smoothly, until Lisbon had finished her meal. It’d been good and well, but Lisbon reached the bottom of her plate, and she let out a little cry.
“What?” Jane leant over to her.
Lisbon just held a hand over her mouth, pointing at the plate.
Jane looked to where she was pointing, and his heart began to race faster. There, amongst the pale cream of the china plate, was an ominous red smiley, not unlike what Red John would do.
“Lisbon,” Jane turned to her, his voice urgent, “do you feel okay?”
“I feel…” Lisbon trailed off, looking around at the team, “fine.”
“You’re sure?” by now, the others had caught on. Rigsby continued, “you don’t feel sick or anything?”
“I’m fine…” Lisbon’s voice became smaller at the end of the sentence, and she bent over slowly.
“Or not,” Cho remarked off-handedly as the team leaped up in unison to save their petite boss.
X
Jane let his fingers roam over the back of Lisbon’s hand. She’d had to have her stomach pumped, but the poison that Lisbon had ingested was one they’d rarely seen before, and the doctors were flying pretty blind with how to treat it. Nevertheless, Jane was trying to have faith that Lisbon would make it through this.
He looked up from his racing thoughts when he felt Lisbon’s hand shift under his. Only then did he notice that she was starting to burn up; her hand was overly warm against his palm. He could register the beeping of her heart monitor was getting faster, more insistent, like a little kid at a doorbell.
“Doctor,” Jane called, and when he got no reply, he tried louder. “Doctor!”
A slim blonde nurse jogged into the room moments later. “I was paged?” she asked rhetorically.
“Help,” Jane was no doctor, but he knew something was wrong.
The doctor, Dr. Grey by her nametag, took a look at Lisbon, and Jane saw something in her eyes switch from calm to slightly stressed. She covered it well, but Jane noticed it in the hurried motions of her hands, and the way she bit the inside of her cheek.
“Page Dr. Bailey,” Dr. Grey shouted at a nurse who was passing by. The tall redhead nodded, and scurried off.
“I’m sorry Sir, but we have to ask you to leave your wife,” Dr. Grey tried to usher him out of the room.
“She’s not my-” Jane began, but stopped short when he caught sight of Lisbon. Her face had paled immensely, and she was shaking on the bed. Suddenly, her body began to convulse, and her head rolled from side to side with a kind of urgency.
“Sir, please leave,” a new doctor who had just entered the room was ordering him out. Her deceptively strong hands pushed at him, and he was so shocked by the sight in front of him that he complied.
He watched as they worked on Lisbon, trying to stop the seizure, heard them talk about how there must still be poison in her system. When he heard the long, final beep, it was as though his own heart had stopped.
Blankly, he stood stock-still as doctors rushed around him, performing CPR for what felt like years, before there was no more to be done. The young Dr. Grey closed Lisbon’s eyes, tears springing to her own. Jane couldn’t help himself. He felt his own tears rolling down his cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” a male nurse was now by his shoulder. “I know what it’s like to lose a wife.”
“She’s not my-” Jane began, but this time was choked by memories. Her smile, her eyes, her laugh and the look she got when she was mad. Even the little crease between her eyebrows when she got annoyed. She was more than just his work wife.
More tears escaped the confines of his lids as the memories continued. Red John had done it again. He’d stolen something that meant everything to Jane. So, as Jane stood motionless in the hall of the hospital, people trying to talk to him but failing, he knew that it would be the last time. Red John would pay for this.
VI.
Jane jumped slightly as he felt his phone buzz against his stomach. Sitting up slowly, he shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out the offending device. Lisbon’s name flashed up at him, and he answered it.
“Lisbon! Where are you? We got a new case and everything,” Jane couldn’t help but feel a bit like a little kid. When silence was the only reply, he tried again. “Lisbon?”
“I’m sorry Patrick,” a voice as smooth and rich as melting chocolate flowed through the phone. “Teresa can’t come to the phone right now.”
Jane felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. His lungs seemed to refuse to take in any oxygen, and his heart tried to compensate by nearly falling out of his chest.
“Wait,” the voice he knew was Red John’s urged him. “Don’t tell our dear friend Grace.”
Jane groaned inwardly; he had already been halfway off his couch.
“Jane?” the redhead in question looked up from her computer. “Is that the boss?”
“Um, no,” Jane lied quickly, taking his phone from his ear. “Wrong number.” Without hanging up, Jane slipped the phone back into his pocket. “I’m going to make myself some tea.”
Grace nodded, before turning back to her work.
It took a surprising amount of self-control for Jane to not run straight to his attic, but instead walk calmly into the kitchenette. Once he was out of sight of the team, he retrieved his phone with one hand and began to make himself a cup of tea.
“Hello?”
“Ah, Patrick, lovely cover up. Is there somewhere we can talk a little more privately? I would hate for you to lose your dear Lisbon over a nosy coworker,” every moment Red John continued to talk sent Jane’s heart plummeting further south, and his stomach flipped uneasily.
“Give me two minutes,” Jane stirred his tea quickly, replacing the phone in the silky confines of his jacket pocket. He collected the tea and a small plate, and headed for the attic.
Once the door was firmly shut behind him, Jane balanced his tea in one hand and drew out his phone with the other. He saw that the line was still connected, and raised it to his ear as he sipped gently from the worn blue teacup.
“What have you done with her?” the tea soothed his nerves a little, but they were bubbling just under the surface.
“Oh, we’ve been having a nice little chat, haven’t we, dear Teresa?” Jane could hear a shuffling sound, then a cry.
“Jane,” Lisbon’s voice broke on the one syllable, and Jane felt as though his heart broke at the sound.
“What do you want, you bastard?” Jane’s tone was venomous.
“Oh, Patrick, you mustn’t worry,” in contrast, Red John’s tone was conversational. “I just wanted to talk to you. Meet me at 70 Harris Street, as soon as you can.”
“And what if I bring backup?”
“You won’t,” Red John chuckled at this. “You’re not that stupid. You know that you’ll come to save your Lisbon, and you’ll do it by yourself. Though you won’t catch me, at least you’ll have her, right?”
Jane could swear he was being torn in two. One part of him, the part that loved Angela and Charlotte and swore to avenge their death, wanted nothing more than to take a team of officers loaded with guns and go after that monster with all her had. A second part, an increasingly insistent part, begged that he obey Red John’s rules and go alone, to save Lisbon.
“You may choose,” Jane had almost forgotten that he was on the phone until Red John spoke again. “Choose wisely.”
Then there was a muffled sob, and a click as the line was disconnected. Jane sat down heavily on his makeshift bed, his mind whirling so much his head hurt. What was he to do?
X
Twenty minutes later, Jane was pulling his Citroen to a stop in front of 70 Harris Street, his hand trembling slightly as he turned off the ignition. As he stepped out, he patted his hip, where the weight of his ‘borrowed’ gun rested reassuringly.
The front door lock was deceptively easy to pick, and Jane found the tension in his body mounting exponentially with each step he took. Without knowing where he was going, he tried to follow the path he thought Red John would take. Coming to the end of his fourth hallway, a muffled thump from his left had him spinning on his heels.
His hand grasped the knob, the coolness of the metal radiating through his palm and doing nothing to slow his racing heart. The unlocked door swung open with a quiet noise of protest, and Jane could hear a soft chuckle, followed by a whimper. He pushed the door open the rest of the way, and was met by a sight that stopped his heart. Red John stood behind Lisbon, one arm gripping her tightly to him across her chest. His other hand clutched a knife, which reflected the bright light in intermittent flashes. His face was contorted into a twisted smile. Lisbon, on the other hand, looked like she was deeply terrified, but attempting to mask it with a façade of calm.
“About time,” she tried to joke, but Red John tugged her tighter towards him.
“I’m not here to talk,” Jane warned, his hand already drawing out his gun. Red John noticed the movement, but didn’t react. Jane clasped his hands around the butt of his gun, attempting to target Red John but failing. Lisbon was too close. Red John dragged Lisbon backwards about a foot, and Jane deduced he was heading for the door a few feet away.
“I know you’re not. I just wanted to tease you a little. Have me so close, and I’ll escape. We both know what you’ll choose when push comes to shove.” Another step backwards.
“That’s not true,” Jane tried to portray the fury that had been bottled up inside of him for the past ten years.
“Isn’t it?” Red John’s smirk grew more devilish, and the knife in his hand edged closer to Lisbon’s porcelain neck. Jane tensed, and Red John laughed once. “See?”
Red John stepped backwards again, and Lisbon stumbled slightly. Jane’s hand trembled as he watched helplessly. Red John’s hand slipped, and the tip of the knife grazed Lisbon’s throat. A thin red line of blood beaded on the pale skin.
“Sorry Teresa,” Red John leant to whisper in her ear as he pulled the knife back a fraction of an inch.
Jane felt sick to his stomach, and only his biofeedback techniques kept him from spilling his lunch onto the floor in front of him. Red John was crouched so that nearly all of his body was protected by Lisbon’s. The only things he could see were Red John’s eyes, gleaming at him from beside Lisbon’s ear and shielded by her hair. Jane watched as Lisbon’s fingers whitened around Red John’s wrist. He caught her gaze. Blue eyes held green for a moment. Jane saw Lisbon’s hand drop from around her captor’s arm, and her gaze followed it. Gathering that she wanted him to look where she was pointing, he did so. Hovering above Red John’s thigh, Lisbon’s shaky fingers drew a small ‘x’ in the air. She stumbled purposefully, and he glimpsed Red John’s leg; a clear shot.
He knew what she wanted him to do. But he almost couldn’t bring himself to do it. Then his eyes caught Red John’s. The murky brown depths seemed to glimmer at him, dancing with malice and a kind of psychotic glee. Lisbon silently pleaded with him to take the shot; it was their only chance.
Red John took another step back towards the door. Lisbon watched Jane as she stumbled, and something behind her eyes broke a little when he didn’t shoot. He tried to give her a look that said ‘wait just a moment’, but he wasn’t sure how well it conveyed.
“Why?” Jane asked, ensuring the gun was still trained on the sliver of Red John’s face.
“Why what, Mr. Jane?”
“You know what,” Jane’s words were hot, and he flung them at Red John with all the fury, hurt and threat he could muster.
“Because, Patrick,” Red John’s tone was almost civil as the knife sparked against Lisbon’s throat, “you see people as puzzles. As things to be solved and conquered. I see people as games. More fun to play with than to win.”
He reached behind himself with one arm to open the door, and Lisbon tripped, over her own feet it seemed. In the blink of an eye, Jane had the shot lined up with Red John’s leg, and the shot exploded from his gun.
Red John crumpled to the ground in a heap, scarlet liquid flowing from his leg like a river. Lisbon fell as well, Red John’s grip around her body unrelenting. After a beat, Jane dropped the gun, barely hearing it hit the floor as he dashed for the pair.
Jane reached out, grasping Lisbon’s hand as she threw herself off of Red John’s thrashing body. Jane pulled her, hard enough to send her small body sprawling against the wall behind him, as gently as he could. He saw Red John try to get up, but it seemed the bullet wound in his leg had hindered him. Jane kicked out with a wayward foot and struck Red John’s nose. Blood began to gush from the wound as he cried in pain.
“Jane, cuffs!” Lisbon called from behind him.
With no idea what he was doing, he patted Red John down, retrieving the handcuffs and clipping them around the wounded man’s wrists as he continued to groan in pain. As an afterthought, Jane wrapped his jacket tightly around where he had shot Red John, and shoved him roughly into something resembling a sitting position.
Pulling out his phone, Jane absentmindedly caught one of Lisbon’s hands in his own as he dialed Cho. He quickly informed the other agent of the situation, Red John silent at his feet, staring straight ahead. When Cho hung up, assuring Jane help was on the way; the consultant used his grip on his boss to draw her to him. He rested his chin against her head, and inhaled deeply. She was okay. She was alive. His arms encircled her shoulders as she curled against him.
“Jane,” Lisbon reprimanded him from against his shoulder. “You should have called them earlier.”
“He would have killed you Lisbon,” Jane didn’t realize how strained his voice was until the words escaped his mouth.
The two were silent for a second. “You did it Jane. Without killing him. And I’m still here.”
Jane looked over at Red John, who still had not said a word or uttered another cry of pain. “Yeah.”
Lisbon seemed to move closer to him, her arms snaking around his waist. With a start, Jane realized his leg was becoming damp. He looked down, pulling away from Lisbon, and saw her pant leg stained with blood.
“Oh my god,” he muttered under his breath.
Lisbon glanced down at the same time. “It doesn’t even hurt,” she said, slowly lowering herself to the ground as she showed him where the bullet grazed her thigh.
“I am so sorry Lisbon,” Jane said softly as he knelt beside her.
“It’s okay. Just a surface wound,” Lisbon was already taking off her jacket to wrap around the wound. Jane assisted her, pulling the knot tight around her thigh, his fingers brushing the soft material of her pants. His hand stilled, and their gazes caught.
“It’s over,” the words came out on a sigh as Jane moved closer, pulling Lisbon into him once more.
“It’s okay Jane. You’re okay,” Lisbon’s voice soothed him as he rested his forehead against the soft pillow of her hair.
“Thank you Lisbon,” tears choked his words as they tumbled from his lips. “Thank you."
Author: vanrigsby
Artist: kathiann
Link to art: Here
Word Count:
Rating: T - major character death.
Summary: You never know what you have until you lose it. Once you lose it, you can never get it back. Five times Red John took Lisbon from Jane (and one time he didn't.)
Notes: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. A lot. It was hard to write, but hopefully turned out okay. A major thanks to kathiann, for putting up with me.
I.
Jane lay with his eyes closed, pretending to nap on the couch as life in the bullpen continued on around him. He could hear Cho and Rigsby tossing a ball to one another in the most exaggerated way possible without leaving their chairs, and he could hear Grace’s soft-but-attempting-to-be-stern voice reprimanding them as she continued to work. Ah, how the team acted without a new case. The only thing that could have made it better was annoying a certain brunette Senior Agent from her couch, rather than his.
With a muffled groan, Jane stretched his tired muscles and sat up, swinging his legs around. He flashed Grace a mega-watt grin as he stood, already making his way out of the bullpen in the direction of Lisbon’s office.
“You’d better not be going to annoy the boss,” Rigsby warned him, catching the ball one-handed. “She’s in a mood.”
Jane shrugged, a grin spreading over his features as he continued to walk. “Meh,” was his response.
The blinds of Lisbon’s office were shut as he approached, and Jane knew that meant Lisbon wanted nothing more than to be alone. He opened the door tentatively, wary that any disturbance might send a stapler flying at his head.
“Lisbon?” he purposefully made his voice soft. When she didn’t answer, he tried again, opening the door wider. “Lisbon?”
After no response a second time, he opened the door and stepped inside of the office. He glanced around, surprised that his petite boss was nowhere in sight. Her desk lay undisturbed, papers strewn across the wooden surface.
“Guys,” Jane leant out the doorway and waited for the team’s attention. When he had it, he continued. “Do you know where Lisbon is?”
He was met with a chorus of negative answers.
“Nope.”
“I thought she was in there.”
“Maybe she’s in the break room.”
Jane opted for the third suggestion, heading for the break room. When he got there, he found it to be empty. He rounded the corner, and almost bumped into someone.
“Sorry,” he began to apologise automatically, before taking in the person’s face. “Ron! Have you seen Lisbon?”
“No, sorry,” the other man replied. “Why?”
“Just looking for her is all,” Jane replied, reaching to take his phone from his pocket.
“Okay,” Ron replied, walking away.
Jane dialed Lisbon’s number from memory. All he received in return was Lisbon’s voice on the other end of the line, telling his to please leave a message and she’d get back to him as soon as she could. He snapped his phone shut with a huff. Where could she be? He was feeling in a particularly annoying mood.
Exasperated, Jane made his way to Lisbon’s office again. His eyes flicked to Lisbon’s desk, the idea of tidying the papers there beginning to sprout in his mind. It would either end in her gratitude or her complete and utter annoyance, both of which Jane found that he wouldn’t mind.
His shoes tapped soundlessly against the floor as he crossed to the desk. His eyes roamed, taking in all the information contained on the slips of paper, most of it containing complaints about him. A small chuckle formed in his throat, but he closed his mouth against it when something on the papers caught his eye. The curve of a smooth red line against the stark black and white of the paper surrounding it. Jane reached for it with careful fingers, lifting the corner of the paper as gently as if it were made of glass.
If it were glass, however, it would have shattered in the next moment, as when Jane’s eyes registered the symbol, his hand dropped the paper as if it had burned him, and he let out a small cry of shock. His hand flew to his mouth, his heart pounding furiously in his chest.
After a pause to attempt to gather his thoughts, Jane finally moved. His hand shakily dragged the paper towards him as he collapsed into Lisbon’s desk chair. Black words jumped out at his as if mocking him, the taunting red smiley grinning up from the white sheet.
I’m sorry, Mr. Jane. She was just too beautiful to resist.
Jane let out another cry, this one louder this time, and stood up. By the time he reached the door, the three agents were already on their feet.
“Jane?”
“Are you okay?”
“What is it?”
The words bottlenecked at his lips as he choked on their syllables. Unable to make any sound, he simply gestured inside the room, and Rigsby, Cho and Grace all rushed towards him.
Jane stepped back slowly until his knees hit the edge of Lisbon’s couch. He sunk into the welcoming white cushions and his chest felt tight, as if a giant hand were squeezing it.
He could hear nothing but the rushing of blood in his ears. The voices of the team sounded as if he were underwater, as though his ears were filled with cotton wool. Only one thought raced through his mind, circling endlessly and tirelessly, like a dog chasing its tail.
He has her.
II.
“Lisbon,” Jane’s voice echoed against the wood of Lisbon’s front door. He knocked again, his eyes glancing at his silent phone. He’d tried ringing Lisbon numerous times, and each time it had rung out. They had a new case, and the team was already headed there. It was his job to retrieve their boss. “Lisbon,” he called again.
His eyes skimmed the quiet street as his foot tapped impatiently on the ground. The area was practically deserted, he watched as a lone leaf skipped along the bitumen. The wind blew, and he tugged his jacket around himself tighter.
Making an executive decision, he knew it was time to go inside Lisbon's house, to get away from the cold if nothing else. He reached inside his jacket pocket, searching for his trusty lock-picking device, if not something that would do just as well.
He pulled it out, grinning a little in smug satisfaction. Jane swiftly picked the lock on the front door, and it swung open silently. Jane stepped into Lisbon’s apartment, his eyes roving for the petite brunette. “Lisbon?” he called again, already heading towards the kitchen. There was no answer, but the coffee cup by the sink with half a mouthful of coffee in it told him that she couldn’t be far.
He wandered back out into the lounge room, his hand absentmindedly trailing along the back of her couch as he admired her pictures and photographs.
One of Lisbon and her three brothers caught his eye. They were young, Lisbon only about twelve. Her green eyes were sparkling with a life he had only seen in her eyes on a rare occasion, and she had an honest-to-god smile splitting her face. Jane snapped himself back into reality with a shake of his head. He was here to find Lisbon.
After thoroughly searching the bottom floor, Jane turned towards the staircase. The first stair creaked slightly under his weight, but he continued. He pulled out his phone as he ascended, dialing Lisbon’s number. As it began to ring, he paused at the top of the stairs. With a start, he heard a second phone beginning to ring across the landing, behind a door. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and headed for the door.
“You’d better be decent,” he called, a small grin beginning to paint his face as he reached for the knob.
As his hand touched the cool metal, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.
“Hello Grace,” he answered it one-handed.
“Jane?” he could instantly tell she was hiding something, and could almost see her biting her lip. “You might want to come here as soon as you can,” she said, after a pause.
His heart plummeted. There was only one thing Grace talked about in that tone of voice. And it was something, someone, he never wanted to hear of again. With his breath quickening subconsciously, he opened Lisbon’s bedroom door.
The first thing he saw was the smiley face, its deep scarlet contrasting with Lisbon’s cream walls. He froze, his eyes remaining on the gruesome symbol, his stomach churning as he fought the nearly overwhelming urge to be sick. His breath rushed out of him all at once, and it took every ounce of focus to draw it back in. He knew what he would find if he looked further down than the smiley.
“Jane?” Grace’s voice was still in his ear. “Are you there?”
“Grace,” was all Jane could make out, in a voice thick with tears. “Lisbon.”
At those words, it was as if he could no longer control his eyes, and they drifted down. A loud cry burst from his mouth and tears instantly began to fall down his cheeks.
“Jane? Are you okay?”
“Hurry,” Jane choked into the small speaker, before his phone clattered to the floor and he dropped to his knees.
X
Jane wasn’t even aware of when the team arrived. It was somewhere between one moment and the next. One moment he was alone, the next there were people all around him, and the team was all on the floor beside him. He felt as if his insides had been turned to ice, and all of him was frozen. Tears streamed down his face in a constant river, warped sobs bursting forth occasionally from his trembling lips.
She was gone. Thank to him, she was gone. Yet another beautiful and vital part of his life had been lost to this madman. Red John had taken his Angela, his Charlotte, his life and now his Lisbon. He’d distracted the entire team by taking the life of some innocent woman across town, and now Lisbon.
Jane choked on his next sob as he attempted to stifle it. He felt something inside of him shutting down as he looked up at the tear-stained faces of his team as they surrounded him.
Grace’s hair fell around her face in a red curtain from here her head was resting on Rigsby’s shoulder. Both of them had tear streaks painting their cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. Even the ever-stoic Cho’s eyes had welled up.
Jane swore, in that moment, that this bastard would die. He would make sure of it.
III.
Jane faced Lisbon across the doorway. The hallway was crowded with people, and Lisbon held her gun tightly.
“One, two, three,” Lisbon whispered, and kicked the door open. It flew against the wall with a deafening crash, and she stepped through the doorway.
The room was fairly large, with four stone walls and one window. There was a messy desk set up in the centre, at which sat a non-descript man who appeared to be writing a letter. He looked up as they entered.
Red John’s cackle echoed around the dingy stone room. “Pleasure to see you here Miss Lisbon, Mr. Jane.”
Lisbon moved slowly into the room, her gun held in front of her. Jane followed cautiously, eyeing Red John up and down with the kind of look that one would give the scum they find on the underside of a toilet.
“I see you brought your little friends.”
Jane saw Lisbon’s eyes flick to the window set into the wall, knowing there was a SWAT team on the other side, along with multiple police cars, and there were people backed up in the hallway behind them for what felt like miles.
“Yes,” Jane made his tone seem as indifferent as possible. “We did.” It came out almost conversationally.
“Well, looks like you’ve caught me,” Red John’s hands rose beside him slowly, his fingers spread. “Go on then.”
Lisbon stepped forward instinctively, and Jane held a hand out. It caught her around the middle, and she stopped in her tracks.
“Jane,” she hissed.
“Just be careful,” Jane knew his tone was slightly more caring than he would have liked, but he’d be damned if he let one more person he cared about die at the hands of the monster in front of them.
Lisbon gave him an almost imperceptible nod, and Jane dropped his hand.
She approached Red John slowly, a small team almost encircling her as she moved fluidly across the floor. Holstering her gun and pulling her handcuffs from her belt, she reached out and curled her fingers around Red John’s left wrist.
Red John bounded upwards with an agility that seemed supernatural, his body twisting and slamming into Lisbon’s. He crushed her against the stone, and Jane heard the whoosh of air from her lungs. The people closest to Lisbon dove in, tearing Red John away from her. As he moved back, Jane caught sight of the brunette.
Jane would have expected Lisbon to scream. But instead, Lisbon looked down, her face a mask of shock. Crimson blood spread across her shirt like a flower, at the same time a smug smirk spread across Red John’s face.
In a heartbeat, the room was full of people, guns drawn and shouts, but Jane took no notice of any of it. His eyes were riveted to his boss, who was sliding down the wall agonizingly slowly.
“Lisbon!” he cried, pushing past the SWAT team and the various other officers. He crouched by her limp frame, where an officer was already holding his hand to the wound on her chest.
“Allow me,” Jane’s voice nearly broke as he hurriedly took of his jacket and held it to her chest. The SWAT man’s expression turned equal parts quizzical and apprehensive.
“It’s okay,” Lisbon’s strained words floated between them. “The paramedics will be here soon.”
The other man nodded slowly, rising to his feet and jogging off to help the other officers.
Jane, being careful to keep pressure on his jacket, shifted as he lowered himself to the cold floor, pulling Lisbon’s body flush with his as he did. She nestled against his chest, her own rising and falling slowly and shakily.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“Not your fault,” Lisbon breathed out raggedly.
“It is,” Jane could feel her blood still seeping into the jacket; it was already nearly soaked through. Her face was getting lighter by the second. The knife must have hit something vital.
He wasn’t a religious man, but in that moment, he sent up a prayer to any god who was willing to listen. He couldn’t lose Lisbon. He couldn’t let another precious part of his life die by his own hands.
“Stay with me Lisbon.”
“Jane, it’s cold,” her voice was getting smaller. “I’m cold.”
“Oh, Teresa,” he whispered against her hair, the raven tresses tickling his nose.
“It’s okay Patrick,” her pale face turned up towards him. “I just wanted you to know how much I lo…” her voice trailed off, her head lolling into his chest.
“No, Lisbon,” his tone turned frantic. “Lisbon, stay with me.” When he lifted her head with his free hand, her eyes were glassy, the emerald orbs looking but not seeing.
“Help,” Jane cried, then louder. “HELP.”
A swarm of people descended upon him, but he barely noticed. All he could see were Lisbon’s blank eyes as he felt her heart stop beating beneath his hand.
She was gone.
IV.
Jane shifted his weight from foot to foot as he stood in the observation room. He’d never really been on this side of the mirror without Lisbon before, and what made it worse was seeing her on the other side of the table, staring blankly ahead, her lips unmoving and her eyes unseeing. Jane simply watched her. He’d been in this position before. With Kristina. He’d watched her for a while before entering, Before trying to talk to her. But there was one difference now. Lisbon was no longer beside him.
It was surprisingly hard to see her facing him, but not seeing anything. He’d never thought it would end up like this. Granted, he never wanted to feel anything for the team, but somehow, this petite brunette had slipped through the rapidly spreading crack in the icy exterior of his heart.
He’d always expected her to die at Red John’s hands, if it came to that. He thought that if Red John had captured her, as he had, that he would destroy her, just to destroy Jane even more. Jane hadn’t expected Lisbon to still be alive when they found her. But she was. She’d been sitting there, her legs dangling off the edge of a pristine white bed, her eyes glazed over and unfocused. No amount of coaxing, or shouting, or pleading could bring Lisbon back. She hadn’t uttered a word; nothing was working.
Rigsby opened the door beside him, startling Jane from his swirling thoughts.
“Jane?” the taller man seemed as rattled by this change in Lisbon as Jane was. “Agent Morris wants you to have a go.”
Something about conflict of interest or other had seen the team unable to interview their boss. Cho, Rigsby and Grace had all seemed like lost puppies; scared, confused and stressed out of their minds. So, they’d been forced to simply amble around aimlessly while their minds were all but focused on their tasks. In fact, Jane had thought they’d all gone for lunch to clear their heads.
“Sure,” the blonde replied, stepping towards the door. He followed the tall agent through the doorway and, after a quick briefing and set of rules by Agent Morris, into the interrogation room.
“Hey Lisbon,” he tested the water. She didn’t reply, but he didn’t expect anything different.
For a while, they sat in silence. Jane had been told to not push too hard, and so he didn't. He suddenly remembered how he’d been able to communicate with Kristina when she had been taken away from him like this.
“Rigsby,” he turned to the two-way mirror, where he knew the agent would be, “bring me a candle. Maybe some incense.”
He then spun around to face the brunette on the other side of the table. A thick, heavy silence fell over the two like a winter’s blanket. The semi-peace was shattered by the noise of the door opening, and the entrance of Rigsby, a candle in one hand and a few incense sticks and matches in the other. Rigsby placed the supplies gently in the table, as if he were presenting them to a king, before backing timidly out of the interrogation room and flicking off the light.
Jane struck a match, the small flame blazing up in the darkness and illuminating the woman across from him. Jane lit the candle carefully. The light sparked off Lisbon’s loose black curls, and her emerald eyes glimmered in the flickering glow.
“I call upon the spirit of Teresa Lisbon,” he said, trying to sound sincere and attempting to quell the feeling of foolishness that rose up inside of him. “Are you here Teresa?”
A serene and eerie smile crept across Lisbon’s features, as something small seemed to switch on behind her eyes. “Hello Patrick.”
“So glad you’re here,” Jane couldn’t help but feel a bit like a talk show host. “How are you?”
“Patrick, there is no need to worry,” it was odd to see Lisbon like this. There had always been some kind of spark inside of her, kind of like the candle that sat between them, a fire that had always kept her going. But now it was extinguished. Her eyes were the same colour, the same mesmerizing green, but they were blank, save for the miniscule light he had erected when lighting the candle. “I’m perfectly fine.”
“What did he do to you?” Jane’s voice began to rise.
“I’m safe, don’t worry,” the voice didn’t even sound like Lisbon’s. “I can see Angela and Charlotte. Your baby girl says hello.”
Jane coughed as something between fear, agony and sadness tore at his chest and constricted his airways. “Lisbon, come back to us.”
“I can’t, Patrick. I have to go.”
“No, Lisbon,” Jane cried, leaping from his chair so quick that it surprised even him. “Stay with me.”
“I’m sorry, Jane,” he thought he caught a glimpse of the real Lisbon, his Lisbon, break through. “But I must go. Red John tells me to send his regards. Go after him, Patrick.”
By this time, Jane was already on the other side of the table, his hands clasped firmly around Lisbon’s shoulders. He shook her gently. “Stay with me Lisbon, please.” But even as he said it, he saw the light, the tiny, precious light he had so carefully created fall away from Lisbon’s eyes. She was back to being a vessel, a vegetable. His arms slid around her shoulders, tugging her close to his chest, his chin atop her head.
“No, don’t go,” Jane whispered, and then quieter, “I need you.”
But even as Rigsby and a tentative Grace stepped into the room, Jane knew she was gone to a place where he could only hope she was safe, but she was untouchable.
V.
Jane’s hands twisted uneasily in the crisp hospital sheets. His long fingers tangled in the material, and he shook his hands to free them. There was a slight movement on the bed, and Jane looked up.
Lisbon hadn’t moved, but her head had rolled to one side, and she moaned a little. Jane reached out, placing his hand on top of hers, where it lay small and pale on the mattress.
“It’s okay,” he reassured her, his voice small against the blips and beeps of the various machine attached to his boss. “You’re going to pull through this.”
X
They’d been out for dinner, as a team, to celebrate the closing of their most recent case. He’d ordered the steak, but Lisbon had ordered the fish.
It had all gone smoothly, until Lisbon had finished her meal. It’d been good and well, but Lisbon reached the bottom of her plate, and she let out a little cry.
“What?” Jane leant over to her.
Lisbon just held a hand over her mouth, pointing at the plate.
Jane looked to where she was pointing, and his heart began to race faster. There, amongst the pale cream of the china plate, was an ominous red smiley, not unlike what Red John would do.
“Lisbon,” Jane turned to her, his voice urgent, “do you feel okay?”
“I feel…” Lisbon trailed off, looking around at the team, “fine.”
“You’re sure?” by now, the others had caught on. Rigsby continued, “you don’t feel sick or anything?”
“I’m fine…” Lisbon’s voice became smaller at the end of the sentence, and she bent over slowly.
“Or not,” Cho remarked off-handedly as the team leaped up in unison to save their petite boss.
X
Jane let his fingers roam over the back of Lisbon’s hand. She’d had to have her stomach pumped, but the poison that Lisbon had ingested was one they’d rarely seen before, and the doctors were flying pretty blind with how to treat it. Nevertheless, Jane was trying to have faith that Lisbon would make it through this.
He looked up from his racing thoughts when he felt Lisbon’s hand shift under his. Only then did he notice that she was starting to burn up; her hand was overly warm against his palm. He could register the beeping of her heart monitor was getting faster, more insistent, like a little kid at a doorbell.
“Doctor,” Jane called, and when he got no reply, he tried louder. “Doctor!”
A slim blonde nurse jogged into the room moments later. “I was paged?” she asked rhetorically.
“Help,” Jane was no doctor, but he knew something was wrong.
The doctor, Dr. Grey by her nametag, took a look at Lisbon, and Jane saw something in her eyes switch from calm to slightly stressed. She covered it well, but Jane noticed it in the hurried motions of her hands, and the way she bit the inside of her cheek.
“Page Dr. Bailey,” Dr. Grey shouted at a nurse who was passing by. The tall redhead nodded, and scurried off.
“I’m sorry Sir, but we have to ask you to leave your wife,” Dr. Grey tried to usher him out of the room.
“She’s not my-” Jane began, but stopped short when he caught sight of Lisbon. Her face had paled immensely, and she was shaking on the bed. Suddenly, her body began to convulse, and her head rolled from side to side with a kind of urgency.
“Sir, please leave,” a new doctor who had just entered the room was ordering him out. Her deceptively strong hands pushed at him, and he was so shocked by the sight in front of him that he complied.
He watched as they worked on Lisbon, trying to stop the seizure, heard them talk about how there must still be poison in her system. When he heard the long, final beep, it was as though his own heart had stopped.
Blankly, he stood stock-still as doctors rushed around him, performing CPR for what felt like years, before there was no more to be done. The young Dr. Grey closed Lisbon’s eyes, tears springing to her own. Jane couldn’t help himself. He felt his own tears rolling down his cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” a male nurse was now by his shoulder. “I know what it’s like to lose a wife.”
“She’s not my-” Jane began, but this time was choked by memories. Her smile, her eyes, her laugh and the look she got when she was mad. Even the little crease between her eyebrows when she got annoyed. She was more than just his work wife.
More tears escaped the confines of his lids as the memories continued. Red John had done it again. He’d stolen something that meant everything to Jane. So, as Jane stood motionless in the hall of the hospital, people trying to talk to him but failing, he knew that it would be the last time. Red John would pay for this.
VI.
Jane jumped slightly as he felt his phone buzz against his stomach. Sitting up slowly, he shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out the offending device. Lisbon’s name flashed up at him, and he answered it.
“Lisbon! Where are you? We got a new case and everything,” Jane couldn’t help but feel a bit like a little kid. When silence was the only reply, he tried again. “Lisbon?”
“I’m sorry Patrick,” a voice as smooth and rich as melting chocolate flowed through the phone. “Teresa can’t come to the phone right now.”
Jane felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. His lungs seemed to refuse to take in any oxygen, and his heart tried to compensate by nearly falling out of his chest.
“Wait,” the voice he knew was Red John’s urged him. “Don’t tell our dear friend Grace.”
Jane groaned inwardly; he had already been halfway off his couch.
“Jane?” the redhead in question looked up from her computer. “Is that the boss?”
“Um, no,” Jane lied quickly, taking his phone from his ear. “Wrong number.” Without hanging up, Jane slipped the phone back into his pocket. “I’m going to make myself some tea.”
Grace nodded, before turning back to her work.
It took a surprising amount of self-control for Jane to not run straight to his attic, but instead walk calmly into the kitchenette. Once he was out of sight of the team, he retrieved his phone with one hand and began to make himself a cup of tea.
“Hello?”
“Ah, Patrick, lovely cover up. Is there somewhere we can talk a little more privately? I would hate for you to lose your dear Lisbon over a nosy coworker,” every moment Red John continued to talk sent Jane’s heart plummeting further south, and his stomach flipped uneasily.
“Give me two minutes,” Jane stirred his tea quickly, replacing the phone in the silky confines of his jacket pocket. He collected the tea and a small plate, and headed for the attic.
Once the door was firmly shut behind him, Jane balanced his tea in one hand and drew out his phone with the other. He saw that the line was still connected, and raised it to his ear as he sipped gently from the worn blue teacup.
“What have you done with her?” the tea soothed his nerves a little, but they were bubbling just under the surface.
“Oh, we’ve been having a nice little chat, haven’t we, dear Teresa?” Jane could hear a shuffling sound, then a cry.
“Jane,” Lisbon’s voice broke on the one syllable, and Jane felt as though his heart broke at the sound.
“What do you want, you bastard?” Jane’s tone was venomous.
“Oh, Patrick, you mustn’t worry,” in contrast, Red John’s tone was conversational. “I just wanted to talk to you. Meet me at 70 Harris Street, as soon as you can.”
“And what if I bring backup?”
“You won’t,” Red John chuckled at this. “You’re not that stupid. You know that you’ll come to save your Lisbon, and you’ll do it by yourself. Though you won’t catch me, at least you’ll have her, right?”
Jane could swear he was being torn in two. One part of him, the part that loved Angela and Charlotte and swore to avenge their death, wanted nothing more than to take a team of officers loaded with guns and go after that monster with all her had. A second part, an increasingly insistent part, begged that he obey Red John’s rules and go alone, to save Lisbon.
“You may choose,” Jane had almost forgotten that he was on the phone until Red John spoke again. “Choose wisely.”
Then there was a muffled sob, and a click as the line was disconnected. Jane sat down heavily on his makeshift bed, his mind whirling so much his head hurt. What was he to do?
X
Twenty minutes later, Jane was pulling his Citroen to a stop in front of 70 Harris Street, his hand trembling slightly as he turned off the ignition. As he stepped out, he patted his hip, where the weight of his ‘borrowed’ gun rested reassuringly.
The front door lock was deceptively easy to pick, and Jane found the tension in his body mounting exponentially with each step he took. Without knowing where he was going, he tried to follow the path he thought Red John would take. Coming to the end of his fourth hallway, a muffled thump from his left had him spinning on his heels.
His hand grasped the knob, the coolness of the metal radiating through his palm and doing nothing to slow his racing heart. The unlocked door swung open with a quiet noise of protest, and Jane could hear a soft chuckle, followed by a whimper. He pushed the door open the rest of the way, and was met by a sight that stopped his heart. Red John stood behind Lisbon, one arm gripping her tightly to him across her chest. His other hand clutched a knife, which reflected the bright light in intermittent flashes. His face was contorted into a twisted smile. Lisbon, on the other hand, looked like she was deeply terrified, but attempting to mask it with a façade of calm.
“About time,” she tried to joke, but Red John tugged her tighter towards him.
“I’m not here to talk,” Jane warned, his hand already drawing out his gun. Red John noticed the movement, but didn’t react. Jane clasped his hands around the butt of his gun, attempting to target Red John but failing. Lisbon was too close. Red John dragged Lisbon backwards about a foot, and Jane deduced he was heading for the door a few feet away.
“I know you’re not. I just wanted to tease you a little. Have me so close, and I’ll escape. We both know what you’ll choose when push comes to shove.” Another step backwards.
“That’s not true,” Jane tried to portray the fury that had been bottled up inside of him for the past ten years.
“Isn’t it?” Red John’s smirk grew more devilish, and the knife in his hand edged closer to Lisbon’s porcelain neck. Jane tensed, and Red John laughed once. “See?”
Red John stepped backwards again, and Lisbon stumbled slightly. Jane’s hand trembled as he watched helplessly. Red John’s hand slipped, and the tip of the knife grazed Lisbon’s throat. A thin red line of blood beaded on the pale skin.
“Sorry Teresa,” Red John leant to whisper in her ear as he pulled the knife back a fraction of an inch.
Jane felt sick to his stomach, and only his biofeedback techniques kept him from spilling his lunch onto the floor in front of him. Red John was crouched so that nearly all of his body was protected by Lisbon’s. The only things he could see were Red John’s eyes, gleaming at him from beside Lisbon’s ear and shielded by her hair. Jane watched as Lisbon’s fingers whitened around Red John’s wrist. He caught her gaze. Blue eyes held green for a moment. Jane saw Lisbon’s hand drop from around her captor’s arm, and her gaze followed it. Gathering that she wanted him to look where she was pointing, he did so. Hovering above Red John’s thigh, Lisbon’s shaky fingers drew a small ‘x’ in the air. She stumbled purposefully, and he glimpsed Red John’s leg; a clear shot.
He knew what she wanted him to do. But he almost couldn’t bring himself to do it. Then his eyes caught Red John’s. The murky brown depths seemed to glimmer at him, dancing with malice and a kind of psychotic glee. Lisbon silently pleaded with him to take the shot; it was their only chance.
Red John took another step back towards the door. Lisbon watched Jane as she stumbled, and something behind her eyes broke a little when he didn’t shoot. He tried to give her a look that said ‘wait just a moment’, but he wasn’t sure how well it conveyed.
“Why?” Jane asked, ensuring the gun was still trained on the sliver of Red John’s face.
“Why what, Mr. Jane?”
“You know what,” Jane’s words were hot, and he flung them at Red John with all the fury, hurt and threat he could muster.
“Because, Patrick,” Red John’s tone was almost civil as the knife sparked against Lisbon’s throat, “you see people as puzzles. As things to be solved and conquered. I see people as games. More fun to play with than to win.”
He reached behind himself with one arm to open the door, and Lisbon tripped, over her own feet it seemed. In the blink of an eye, Jane had the shot lined up with Red John’s leg, and the shot exploded from his gun.
Red John crumpled to the ground in a heap, scarlet liquid flowing from his leg like a river. Lisbon fell as well, Red John’s grip around her body unrelenting. After a beat, Jane dropped the gun, barely hearing it hit the floor as he dashed for the pair.
Jane reached out, grasping Lisbon’s hand as she threw herself off of Red John’s thrashing body. Jane pulled her, hard enough to send her small body sprawling against the wall behind him, as gently as he could. He saw Red John try to get up, but it seemed the bullet wound in his leg had hindered him. Jane kicked out with a wayward foot and struck Red John’s nose. Blood began to gush from the wound as he cried in pain.
“Jane, cuffs!” Lisbon called from behind him.
With no idea what he was doing, he patted Red John down, retrieving the handcuffs and clipping them around the wounded man’s wrists as he continued to groan in pain. As an afterthought, Jane wrapped his jacket tightly around where he had shot Red John, and shoved him roughly into something resembling a sitting position.
Pulling out his phone, Jane absentmindedly caught one of Lisbon’s hands in his own as he dialed Cho. He quickly informed the other agent of the situation, Red John silent at his feet, staring straight ahead. When Cho hung up, assuring Jane help was on the way; the consultant used his grip on his boss to draw her to him. He rested his chin against her head, and inhaled deeply. She was okay. She was alive. His arms encircled her shoulders as she curled against him.
“Jane,” Lisbon reprimanded him from against his shoulder. “You should have called them earlier.”
“He would have killed you Lisbon,” Jane didn’t realize how strained his voice was until the words escaped his mouth.
The two were silent for a second. “You did it Jane. Without killing him. And I’m still here.”
Jane looked over at Red John, who still had not said a word or uttered another cry of pain. “Yeah.”
Lisbon seemed to move closer to him, her arms snaking around his waist. With a start, Jane realized his leg was becoming damp. He looked down, pulling away from Lisbon, and saw her pant leg stained with blood.
“Oh my god,” he muttered under his breath.
Lisbon glanced down at the same time. “It doesn’t even hurt,” she said, slowly lowering herself to the ground as she showed him where the bullet grazed her thigh.
“I am so sorry Lisbon,” Jane said softly as he knelt beside her.
“It’s okay. Just a surface wound,” Lisbon was already taking off her jacket to wrap around the wound. Jane assisted her, pulling the knot tight around her thigh, his fingers brushing the soft material of her pants. His hand stilled, and their gazes caught.
“It’s over,” the words came out on a sigh as Jane moved closer, pulling Lisbon into him once more.
“It’s okay Jane. You’re okay,” Lisbon’s voice soothed him as he rested his forehead against the soft pillow of her hair.
“Thank you Lisbon,” tears choked his words as they tumbled from his lips. “Thank you."