FIC: Acrimonious (10/21)
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 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.
10-
Lisbon groaned, as she heard the familiar trill of her cellphone from atop her nightstand. Middle of the night phone calls never boded well, as they usually never signaled good news and all she wanted to do was ignore the call. However, she knew she couldn’t; it was ultimately her job to answer the phone at all hours of the night, even at…she paused to glance over at the alarm clock…3:15 AM. Even though her sleep-addled mind, she knew it probably hadn’t been that long since she had finally curled into her bed and passed out from the exhaustion of her and Jane’s dinner together.
Slowly, she extended one of her arms from under her light blue comforter and grabbed her cellphone, before she clumsily lifted the device to her ear and hit the talk button.
“Lisbon,” she greeted into the phone, while she felt Jane’s arm tighten around her bare waist and the softness of his lips press between her bare shoulder blades. Lisbon tried to keep the smile from her lips (and voice), as she felt herself being drawn closer to his bare chest.
“Good morning, Agent Lisbon.” Gale Bertram greeted, almost cheerfully and Lisbon wondered if the man ever got any sleep. “I’m sorry for waking you at such an early hour,” she felt Jane’s warm fingers move across her back, as she continued to listen, “but Red John killed one of our own last night.” Lisbon stiffened against Jane’s chest in apprehension, while she felt his fingers continue their little movements, unaware of her current state. Before she could ask if the victim had been anybody on her team, Bertram continued. “Agent Rivet from Missing Persons and her daughter were murdered last night. Her husband found the bodies fifteen minutes ago.” Relief spread through her body like wildfire; it didn’t mean she wasn’t devastated by the death of a fellow agent (even if the agent had been an annoying presence) and her little girl, because she was. She was just relieved that none of her own team had been murdered by Red John and that all of them had yet another chance to catch the sick bastard. “I hope it goes without me saying, Agent, that I want you and your unit to catch this twisted killer.” She wanted to catch him also, mainly because Red John had begun to take a toll on all of them.
They could only trust themselves, for Red John lurked everywhere; throughout the halls of the CBI, within their computer systems, and within other various law enforcement individuals. Lisbon hated the concept that outside of the Serious Crimes Unit, they couldn’t trust anybody else not to be working for Red John, because she had always been taught that fellow cops were good and conspiracies weren’t lurking everywhere.
“It doesn’t need to be said, sir.” Lisbon replied after a moment of silence, although Bertram probably knew Red John was going to escape through their fingers again. Catching the serial killer, in her opinion, was like making Jane behave; impossible and would never cease to be unchallenging. “What’s the address?”
“I’ll text it to you.” Bertram disconnected the call and Lisbon frowned, as she sat her phone back down on her nightstand and waited for Bertram’s message to come through. In her initial worry about the other members of her team, she had nearly forgotten that she’d have to tell Jane about the deaths and the case, which made her feel sick to her stomach.
How in the world was she even going to tell Jane about Red John?
The topic of Red John already sent the man flying off the handle-it always had and it probably always would, which Lisbon understood. Red John had taken his wife and child, and who wouldn’t want revenge after that?-but with the added knowledge that Red John had killed an additional mother and her child, she had a feeling, that would be the part that ultimately destroyed him.
“You’re tense, Teresa.” Lisbon heard Jane’s voice-low and comforting-in her ear and she shuddered, involuntarily. Her name on his lips, for whatever reason, continued to fill her with a sense of foreboding and worry. “What’s wrong?” She almost thought about lying to him, but as she removed herself from his tight hold and twisted her body away from him, she realized that he’d blindly walk onto that crime scene and receive one of the most twisted surprises of his life.
Jane was her best friend; he deserved her honesty and as much as she wished she could stay in the comfort of his arms, she knew she had to be his boss and not his lover for a while. Lisbon hurriedly stepped toward her walk-in closet and turned on the light to browse through her various shirts and pants, before she settled on the combination of an emerald green shirt and white-washed jeans. Her hands brushed against the rough fabric of the jeans, when she felt Jane’s hand squeeze against her bare hip-his touch both, warm and comforting.
“You didn’t answer me, Lisbon.” Lisbon said nothing to him, as she pushed past his nearly naked body and stepped back into the humid bedroom. “Is something…” She didn’t let him finish his sentence.
“We’ll talk about it after my shower, okay?” Lisbon didn’t wait for his response either, as she hurriedly opened one of her various drawers and grabbed a white sports bra and a pair of underwear, before she escaped into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. Her fingers locked the door, even though she knew it wouldn’t keep him out for too long.
Quickly, she shed her nightclothes onto the bathroom floor and she turned to start the shower. The heated blast of water, she hoped, would shake the last traces of sleep from her system, as she pulled back the pale shower curtain and hopped into the shower. With her eyes closed, she stood under the blast of the water and tried to rid her mind of the imagined crime scene-the mother and daughter huddled together, bled dry and the bloody smiley upon the wall, which often haunted her dreams at night-when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist and she frowned again.
“What part of after my shower, did you not understand?” Lisbon asked, as she opened her eyes and moved her hand to grab the bar of soap from its place on her shelf. “Jane…”
“We’re conserving water, Lisbon.” Jane responded and she rolled her eyes, while she lathered her body with the soap. She avoided his arms. “I think you missed a spot; me.”
“You have two hands.” Lisbon stated, she heard Jane chuckle. “I’m sure you can clean your own body parts without trouble.” She felt him shift behind her, until she felt his arousal against her bare backside. She raised her eyebrows, though he couldn’t see it. “I am not going to do this with you at three in the morning, Jane.”
“Do what?” She heard the grin in his voice, which made her shake her head. Honestly, it seemed like the man never stopped. “I’m only showering with you, so I can steal your keys and feel better about the environment.” Before she could offer up a rebuttal in response, she felt his lips press against her neck, which didn’t help her at all. She had planned on showering and then talking to him, because she hadn’t wanted to warn him about Red John on the ride over to the crime scene. She had wanted to warn him about Red John within the safety of her living room with a warm cup of coffee at her lips, but the more his lips sucked tenderly on her neck and the more she felt the hard pulse of his arousal against her backside, the more her body burned with the unspoken desire to give into his sexual urges and let him know about Red John in the car.
Over the water beating down around and on them both, she heard him whisper softly into her ear. “Come on, Agent.” Lisbon was sorely tempted to kick him out of the shower, until one of his hands moved from her hips and caressed her wet breasts. “Help a man out.” His fingers, she felt, tugged gently at her aching nipples and she smacked his hand away. “I know we don’t eat breakfast, which makes me ask why we can’t put those non-used up minutes to good use? I have so many things I want to show you and do to you...”
Between the aching of her thighs and his caressing touch against her hips, Lisbon managed to turn her body around to face him; through the spray of the water, she could see the smirk on his wet, pink lips before she closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his, hard.
She felt his tongue slide past her slightly parted lips and his hand brush across her breasts again. Nothing was said, as she opened her eyes and watched him break the kiss to lower his mouth to her breasts, where his lips captured one of her tortured peaks and she felt him whisk it with his tongue.
They stayed in the shower, until the water became cold.
Dressed in the proper attire for work and out of her own personal vehicle, she flashed her CBI badge to the uniformed officers manning the area around the house as Jane joined her on the brief walk up the shortened pathway. In silence, Lisbon wondered if Red John was watching them all from somewhere afar; the Rivet home, from a quick glance of the outside, seemed as if it had plenty of places for a serial killer to hide and she quickened her steps until she passed the threshold of the home.
The lingering officers around the doorway regarded her with cold stares, while she and Jane started toward the scene of the crime. Lisbon scanned the various framed pictures on the wall: Kayla in a hospital bed with her little pink-blanket wrapped bundle of joy, Kayla in a white wedding dress with her husband’s arms around her, Kayla and her toddler child at Disneyland with Pluto; the little girl wore a large grin that matched her mother’s as she tugged on Pluto’s tongue within the frame.
Lisbon’s heart constricted painfully within her chest. Red John had taken yet another innocent from the world; one, who hadn’t even gotten a chance to fully explore the greater things in life.
“They don’t like being shown up by a woman, especially one as attractive as you.” Jane’s voice interrupted her thoughts and she shot him a look; they were at a crime scene, not within the safety of her own home. “I know you didn’t ask for a running commentary, but I thought you could use one.” His bright grin did nothing for the apprehension bubbling up within the pit of her stomach.
“You thought wrong, Jane.” Lisbon wearily told him, as they both stepped into the fully-lit kitchen and her stomach clenched in worry with every step she took. Lisbon honestly had no idea how he was going to react to the fact that Red John had struck again, because when Jane wanted to hide things from her or from anybody else, he could do it extremely well. “Hey,” she stopped him at the base of the hallway, which was crowded with uniformed officers and forensic technicians. Jane turned to stare at her with a smile. “Before we go in there, you should know something…”
“Good morning Boss, Jane.” Rigsby interrupted her and Lisbon glanced from Jane to Rigsby, who she thought had to have one of the worst timings ever. “The forensics team has already swept the place for prints and they have found nothing so far.” Lisbon nodded with an inaudible sigh. Would they ever find something to lead them all too arresting Red John or would they forever continue to keep chasing an invisible man? Lisbon feared the outcome for them all if they kept chasing Red John into the unknown, but she kept her mouth shut while Rigsby continued. “They’ve also finished taking the initial pictures of the bodies, but nothing else has been disturbed. Agent Lancaster has also been informed…”
“Bodies? Did Agent Lancaster finally find Elizabeth Shannon?” Jane chimed in and Rigsby glanced at her. She knew exactly what he was asking with his expression: why didn't Jane already know about the crime scene? Lisbon avoided his stare. Some questions are just better left unanswered. “Is this a murder-suicide, Rigsby?” Jane glanced from Rigsby to her and she frowned at his earnest expression.
“Jane.” Lisbon tried again and Jane continued to stare at her, unblinkingly. She hated breaking the news to him feet from the crime scene, but she had to. He’d never forgive her if she allowed for Rigsby to tell him. “Red John struck again last night. He killed…” Before she had the chance to finish her sentence, Lisbon watched Jane sprint toward the open-door bedroom and she chased after him.
She joined him in the all-white bedroom, moments later. Jane’s eyes were wide and unblinking, as he silently drank in the sight of the all-too-familiar bloody smiley face on the bedroom wall; the two white-sheet covered bodies rested below the eerie signature and she reached out to touch his arm in concern. “Jane?” A quiet Jane meant nothing good.
“Who did he kill?” Jane’s quiet voice sent the entire room of forensic technicians and uniformed officers into silence; she noticed his eyes focused intently on the blood-tinted white sheets and blood-splattered carpet.
“Agent Kayla Rivet and her daughter, Madison Rivet.” Rigsby broke the silence from behind them. Jane said nothing as he tore his arm from her grasp and he slowly approached the bed, only to lift the sheet off both bodies. Lisbon kept her distance, but she could still see the two victims from where she stood: Kayla Rivet had been butchered; her brunette hair coated with blood and Lisbon felt sick to her stomach. Why had Red John killed her? Unlike Bosco and his unit, Rivet hadn’t been approaching on the Red John case and…“Red John isn’t unique or smart; he’s just lucky enough not to be caught by you all.” Her heartbeat raced within her chest at the memory of Rivet’s words days ago. If Red John had killed Rivet because of her slander, it meant that the serial killer had stuck yet another mole within their ranks and Lisbon clenched her jaw.
Within a time span of four years, Red John had already placed three moles amongst them all. Dumar Hardy, the psychopath sherriff who had kidnapped Maya Plaskett for his own sick needs and who had almost killed her with a shotgun on his master’s orders, only to be killed by Jane in the end. Rebecca, the sociopath secretary who had shot Samuel Bosco and his unit for interfering on the Red John case, only to be killed by either Red John (or one of his moles) within the CBI. And lastly, Craig O’Laughlin, the smooth-talking FBI liaison who had been engaged to marry Van Pelt and who had set Todd Johnson on fire, only for him to be taken out by Hightower and Van Pelt after having shot her in the shoulder.
How many more times would they have to deal with another twisted or misguided individual within the CBI, who had been sent to them by Red John? Quite frankly, Lisbon had grown tired of the mole situation by the time Rebecca had been killed and she had stopped wondering when Red John’s next mole would be placed amongst them and instead had started wondering who the next mole would be.
Lisbon moved her eyes from Kayla’s lifeless body to Madison Rivet’s. Madison had to be at least five or six-years-old with blood-matted blonde ringlets that fanned out around her little lifeless body as if she wore a halo around her head and the look of pure fright etched upon the youth’s face made Lisbon’s heart skip a beat. How anybody could kill such a small child, the very symbol of hope and innocence without feeling any sort of remorse, was completely beyond her area of understanding. She slowly approached Jane and put her hand to his arm again, which he shook off and she frowned. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you…”
“How were you to know, Lisbon?” Jane asked her, his voice painfully small. Guilt overwhelmed her, as her chest tightened painfully and she pinned her arms against her stomach. She had known about the two bodies, obviously both mother and child, but she had just never gotten around to telling him about it. “You’ve never seen pictures of my wife and child. You had no idea.” Lisbon’s frown deepened at his words. In the years that she had worked with him and on the Red John case, she had never been able to force herself to flip through the Jane family photographs (or the pictures taken on the night of their deaths) within the case file as it had felt wrong. Jane was her best friend and to glance through the pictures, even with the main purpose of catching Red John, felt like a major violation of his privacy.
“Jane,” she repeated, softly. “I…”
“I’ll be fine.” Jane answered her in a voice a little above a whisper and she didn’t believe him for a second. Red John cases messed with his head, everybody (with the exception of Jane, apparently) knew that. “You do have a scene to work with here, I believe. So, I’m just going to step outside for some fresh air.” Lisbon opened her mouth with the intention to tell him that she didn’t think that was a good idea, but he hurried from the room before she could get the first syllable out. With a heavy sigh, she turned her eyes (and focus) back onto the grotesque scene.
Rigsby, who probably still stood behind her, said nothing and she was grateful for his silence. It allowed for her to put her head back on straight.
“Director Bertram said something about Agent Rivet’s husband having found them?” Lisbon voiced to Rigsby after a moment of silence as she turned to face the younger agent. Rigsby nodded, his attention focused on the notepad in his hand. Lisbon figured that he was trying to keep his eyes (and thoughts) off the small child, who had been brutally slaughtered.
He’s also probably thinking about Benjamin, Lisbon realized with a lurching thought.
“Kenneth or Kenny Rivet; thirty-years-old. Works as a night security guard for California Natural Bank.” Lisbon nodded for him to continue. “He found his wife and child like that,” Rigsby motioned toward the bed without sparing the scene a glance, “after spending all night at work. He apparently found them, tried to save their lives with CPR and then called Agent Lancaster, who placed the call to Director Bertram for us.” Lisbon glanced around the homely decorated room; the walls, decorated with various family portraits, had been painted crème and below the shimmering bloody smiley face remained a set of bloody handprints which contrasted forebodingly compared to the rest of the room. She doubted that the set of bloody handprints belonged to Red John, which meant that Kenny had left them behind; Kayla’s husband and Madison’s father had probably come home from work, expecting to find his wife and daughter already in bed asleep, only to find them both in their current state.
Like any good husband, Kenny had probably pressed both of his hands to his wife and little girl’s wounds to try and stop the bleeding or to feel for a pulse, before he realized that he had been too late to save them both.
“Where’s Kenny now?” Lisbon asked with her attention back on Rigsby. Although she was worried about Jane and his current state of mind, she knew her work had to come first. Red John had killed yet another agent and nobody-the CBI and Bertram, included-wanted him to make a mockery out of them again.
“He’s down the hall, currently sitting in his daughter’s room.” Rigsby responded. “Grace is sitting with him now.” Rigsby paused to glance up at her, concern written across his face at the mention of his fellow agent. “She couldn’t…” Lisbon nodded again in understanding and she watched him glance back down at his notepad. Although Van Pelt had dealt with countless murder victims-teen and adult, female and male-the Junior Agent had never seen a child’s lifeless body. The sight of a murdered child, even for her (and she had seen the sight several times before), wasn’t easy to stomach and if they couldn’t catch Red John; she knew it would continue to haunt them all. “Kenny doesn’t seem like the suicidal type, boss, but Grace’s presence keeps him from trying anything.” Lisbon nodded. The CBI didn’t need another aimless lawsuit from a disgruntled family, because the individual had tried to kill himself as he had been left alone without supervision. None of them were strangers to the psychological hazards that Red John presented (and knowing what she knew about Jane’s stint in the psychological ward, years ago), she was glad that Grace had taken it upon herself to sit with the victim’s husband.
“Where’s Cho?” Lisbon asked.
“He’s canvasing the outside,” Rigsby replied and he glanced back up at her, “just in case.”
Lisbon nodded again. “Tell him to find Jane after he’s finished.” Rigsby nodded. “We can’t have Jane wondering off, especially not after this.” Lisbon waited for Rigsby to say something about her concern for Jane, but he said nothing and she relaxed slightly. Explaining to anybody why had been even more concerned about Jane’s behavior more than usual lately would have involved a lie and Rigsby didn’t deserve that. “After you do that, you can either come back here or you can help me speak with Kenny.”
Rigsby seemed relieved with her order as he hurried from the bedroom and she followed close behind him. He was completely out of her sight by the time she had stopped at the door that had been painted a light pink; two uniformed officers guarded the door and she quickly flashed them her badge to gain access into the little girl’s room.
Madison’s room had been tastefully decorated by two parents, who had very much loved their daughter: the light pink walls matched the color of the door, her carpet was a soft lilac and the ceiling was a light blue, decorated with specks of silver glitter. Lisbon noticed the small princess-style bed for the little girl, accompanied with flowing lace curtains near the middle of the room where Kenny Rivet sat.
Kenny was a dark-haired and well-dressed man, who clutched one of his daughter’s large neon frogs to his chest with his bloody hands. In the soft light of the bedroom, Kenny’s clean-shaven face was pale and Lisbon noticed that he was staring aimlessly into space before she glanced at Van Pelt. Van Pelt stood near the pink-curtained windows with her arms crossed against her chest as she stared at the seemingly-cationic widow with a frown.
“Has he said anything to you?” Lisbon asked Van Pelt, quietly after she had approached the Junior Agent.
Van Pelt didn’t take her eyes off Kenny. “He hasn’t said a word, boss.” Lisbon nodded, before she turned her attention back on Kenny and crossed her arms against her chest. She knew she had to speak with the husband as they had to rule out another possible Red John copycat, but that didn’t make it any easier; for when speaking to the family members of Red John victims, she had often been reminded of a ticking time bomb. The family member would ask the usual questions: How could this happen? Did they feel much pain before it happened? Why my loved one and not somebody else’s? Sometimes, however, the flash of numbness that each family member felt at such a horrific crime bled into anger: This is your fault. If you had been able to catch Red John, I wouldn’t have to plan a funeral for them or I hope he comes after you, because maybe you’ll know what it’s like to be truly sorry for my loss.
She had been working on the case for almost seven years and in that amount of time, very few leads had been thrown their way. Moles were killed before they could talk, bodies were stolen from morgues and Red John left nothing for them to follow, aside from random IM chats over four years and one phone call that had happened after they had found Jared Renfrew and a prostitute slain together in a Tijuana motel bathroom. Lisbon had realized, long before her first active Red John case, that the family members weren’t angry with the officers of the law; they were angry with themselves for the things that they had never gotten the chance to say to their loved ones.
Her father, for example, had been angry with the uniformed officers that had shown up on their Chicago doorstep when she had been twelve to inform them that his wife, her mother, had been killed by a drunk driver. After the officers had left her childhood home, her father had immediately turned his anger on himself through the use of alcohol and in turn, she and her three brothers had paid the ultimate price for his continuous anger.
“I’m going to go and speak with him.” Lisbon didn’t wait for Van Pelt’s response as she approached the raven-haired man, who still clutched his daughter’s neon frog to his chest. She uncrossed her arms from her chest and cleared her throat, but Kenny kept his eyes focused ahead. “Mr. Rivet?” Lisbon asked, softly. Kenny ignored her again. “I’m Agent Lisbon with the…”
“I know who you are, Agent.” Kenny interrupted, coldly while he met her gaze with his own cold stare. “Kay told me that you are the one in charge of the Red John case, as her unit mainly deals-dealt with finding missing persons.” Lisbon nodded, wearily. Kenny had apparently skipped the states of numbness and disbelief with the murder of his family and if he was angry, she didn’t exactly want to set his anger off any more than she had to. “She also said that you worked with her on a case, recently?”
“We did.” Lisbon admitted. Kenny said nothing and Lisbon continued on. “Agent Rivet is-was,” Lisbon corrected with a frown, “an excellent agent, who helped us solve a triple homicide.”
“Liar.” Kenny muttered and Lisbon blinked in surprise. Rivet, annoying or not, had held a crucial part of figuring out that the Shannon’s hadn’t done anything to the Killian’s. “When Kay had said you were a two-faced bitch, I thought she had just been exaggerating. But now, I can see she wasn’t.” Lisbon forced herself not to react to his spiteful words as she knew her reactions wouldn’t help them get anywhere. “Your entire damned unit is the main reason my wife and little baby girl were murdered, Agent. So please, with all due respect, you can go and rot in hell. Every single one of you.”
Lisbon tried to ignore the guilt gnawing within her stomach from his words. Fully justified or not though, it still stung and she was sure Van Pelt was reeling also from his words. “I’m sorry for your loss, sir.” She couldn’t promise Kenny that they would catch Red John, as she had learned long ago that making hollow promises did nothing good for anybody.
“I’m sure you are.” Kenny muttered darkly, before he turned his head away from her. “Where’s Mark Lancaster? I want to speak with him.”
“Agent Lancaster will be here shortly.” Lisbon explained.
Kenny pressed the toy frog to his chest again; the little toy, she noticed, had been stained red from Kenny’s hands and she was suddenly thankful that she didn’t have any children. If one of them had been killed by Red John, Lisbon had no idea what she would have done. “Good, because I want you and your fellow agent,” his eyes flickered to where Grace stood, “to leave me alone.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Rivet.” Lisbon replied. “We can’t do that.” Whether Kenny killed his family or not, Lisbon needed him to answer her questions before she could leave the man to grieve in peace.
“Then the least you both can do,” Kenny said as he bared his slightly crooked teeth in Grace’s direction, “is to stay the hell away from me.”
In silence, Lisbon stepped away from Kenny and stood next to Van Pelt with a frown. She had a feeling that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with Kenny until Lancaster made his grand appearance to comfort him. Van Pelt said nothing as they both stood in the silence of Madison’s bedroom, Lisbon’s attention focused back on the frog-hugging, blood-covered husband; his cold words continued to echo in her ears and she suddenly wished Jane was there with her as she crossed her arms against her chest again, if only to make everything a little bit easier for them all to manage once again.
--
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five 1/2 - Part Five 2/2 - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine 1/2 - Part Nine 2/2 - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Part Sixteen 1/2 - Part Sixteen 2/2 - Part Seventeen - Part Eighteen - Part Nineteen - Part Twenty 1/2 - Part Twenty 2/2 - Part Twenty-One