-- NO SLASH! No Jisbon/Jello. None. Whatsoever. Just best pals :D Thank you!--

Bloody Hell


"Stop, stop, PLEASE!" He screamed, writhing and jerking away but gaining nothing. His wrists and ankles were bleeding from struggling so much. The knife came down on him again, tearing his skin, sending burning anguish throughout his body. "GAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" He shook his head, wishing the tears away.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" His face was unbelievably close to his, mocking him, laughing at him. Patrick coughed, blood on his lips, watching the bloody instrument carefully as it danced back and forth in front of his eyes.

"No, no, please!" He begged.

"It doesn't?" Red John chuckled. "Well maybe this will."

"AGGGGGHHHHHH!" He shrieked, crying. "No more, NO MORE, PLEASE! Oh god, please…"

"I thought you didn't believe in God." That mocking voice. He tried desperately to get away from that horrible instrument. But it followed him. The table underneath him was soaked in blood, and it was only getting worse as time went on.

"You knew this was going to happen," he said calmly. "How could I pass up the opportunity to hurt you like this? So vulnerable…"

It carved into his chest again. "God no! God, please…no more…" The saran wrap around his wrists rubbed his raw skin, the sting so terrible…

"Alright, alright," he set the blade down on the counter beside him. It and the other instruments that lay there. "This is the last way you wanted to be in front of me, wasn't it? Vulnerable, weak…" Patrick could hear the smirk in his voice. "Exposed."

He was exposed. He was naked.

"You want me to end you, don't you? You want me to take your life?" He picked up another device. Patrick's tormented eyes grew.

"P-please…" He whimpered.

"I won't do it, you know. I won't kill you. That's what you want, isn't it? You want to be with them again, is that what you want? You want to end your horrible suffering." He brought his mouth next to Patrick's ear, hidden behind that terrible mask. "But I want you to suffer. Living for you is more terrible than death. So I will let you live."

The device he held touched his unharmed skin. The electrical zapping filled the room, making him scream and cringe and cry. He screamed his wife's name, making Red John laugh even more.

"You think she can hear your pitiful screaming?" He laughed. "Funny, she didn't scream as much as you when I gutted her."

Patrick sobbed, shutting his eyes. The instrument touched him again, burning him, sending the fire through his entire body.


"Then again, I didn't take nearly as long with her as I have with you."

Hours of it. Of torture of agony of suffering. He was whipped and burned and beaten. In the end he was tied back on the table, left to cry and tremble.

He'd taken him from that chair to what he assumed was a warehouse. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know if his friends would find him or not. But he did know he was scared. And cold.

It was so cold. That's why he was shaking so hard. He'd lost the blood that kept him warm. But he wouldn't die. No matter what he would not die. Red John made sure of that.

"Help," he choked. "Please… Someone help me…"

He laid there for hours, shaking, crying, choking, praying. He was lost in a haze, soaked in sweat, blood and tears. So cold…

A door opened and he didn't even notice. He barely heard the scream of: "HE'S HERE!" from a few feet away. He wasn't aware that anyone was there until Lisbon touched his cheek.

"Patrick? Patrick, look at me." His bright, bloodshot and weary eyes met hers. "Hey," she smiled falsely, "hey it's alright. We're gonna get you out of here, okay?"

"Lisbon?" He sobbed harder when she nodded. "Lisbon, help me..."

"Shh, hey, hey, it's okay. It's okay, shh…Shh…" She turned, looking at the agents who had jogged to them. "Cho, get me a-" Cho held out his hand, a blanket already in it. "Thank you." She hurriedly covered Patrick up, giving him some dignity.

"Shh, shh…" She soothed, gently brushing curls off his forehead.

"Lisbon, get it o-off. Please g-get it off." He flexed his wrists weakly, shutting his eyes. She looked down at the thick straps of saran.

"Oh, god, honey." She gasped. "Someone get me a knife, something to cut this with!" Once again, Cho came to the rescue.

He seemed to be on call, ready to run and do whatever Lisbon needed him to because he needed to help. Van Pelt stood there, unable to move, her hand over her mouth. Rigsby had his arm around her shoulders, shifting his feet, looking from Patrick to the door behind them and back again, unsure of what he should be doing.

Lisbon cut Patrick's wrists and ankles loose, gently lowering them so he didn't hurt him. The skin was raw, blistered and bleeding. He'd fought so hard…

"It's alright, Patrick. It's alright. Shh…" He held onto her arm, his eyes pleading with her. "Come here." She pulled him into a hug, the blanket around him.

"Teresa, p-please. It hurts. It h-hurts so m-much. He-he hurt me," he whimpered.

"Red John?" She whispered. He buried his face in her neck, hiding almost. "Okay, okay, it's okay. Shh… We're gonna take you to the hospital, okay?" He shook his head.

"N-no, please. I h-hate hospitals." Lisbon smiled a little. Finally some normalcy.

"I know you do, I know. We just need to make sure you're okay, alright? I'll get you home as soon as I can, okay? I promise." She whispered.

He whimpered and cried in her arms as they waited for the ambulance. Lisbon held him close, wondering how someone that seemed so strong could feel so fragile right now.

"Just a little longer. Just a little longer, Patrick, okay?" She kissed his temple. He trembled against her. "Shh, it's alright. It's alright. Shh…"

The ambulance showed, finally. Patrick whimpered and fought feebly when the unfamiliar hands touched him. Lisbon refused to let go of his hand and chastised many a paramedic for scaring him or hurting him.

He never took his eyes off of her. He couldn't. He'd remember that dark and cold place, that pain, that fear, that masked face. He had to look at her to keep himself from going insane. He didn't stop crying. Even when they got to the hospital he didn't. He couldn't.

"Shh, hush, hush, it's alright now. He can't hurt you anymore."

He shut his eyes, eyes holding so much agony and torment and terrible pain. Eyes that understood what she had said was a lie.


--Patrick TLC next chap!--