So I just watched the preview for the latest Mentalist episode (Bloodhounds) on youtube since I hadn't seen it yet, and I noticed that it's about rhyming, and in the commercial it says that Jane is a poet and he doesn't even know it. Just felt like sharing since I wrote that in my first chapter BEFORE I saw the preview. I promise! Anyway, thanks for the additional reviews and subscriptions! They really keep me going. This is my last chapter, unless I get enough people asking for a continuation, in which case I can try to whip something up. Otherwise, thanks for reading and reviewing!
One quick question for you to answer once you finish reading. Is this "mature"? Cause if you dont think its too bad, I would love to reclassify it as teen. I was kinda on the fence about which rating to give it. Let me know!
Jane's screams echoed throughout the room, and Lisbon found herself wishing that the glass was just a little bit thicker.
Van Pelt was wrapped in Rigsby's arms, her face buried in his chest. Even Cho had placed a comforting hand on Lisbon's arm. He had tried to steer her away from the mirror, but she refused to lose any distance between herself and the tormented Jane. The scene was horrifying. Every blow that Red John dealt caused more flecks of blood to paint the walls and floor. Jane was bent over, no longer able to hold his body upright. Only the chains kept him from falling down completely to the floor.
A punch to the face threw him backwards. A kick in the side left him gasping. A slash to the arm sent his blood flying.
Over Jane's pained cries, Lisbon could hear Red John shouting at him, mocking him.
"Scream for them, Patrick. It's ok. Don't be shy!"
"Stop…please," Jane muttered weakly, his words slurring together.
"You're the great Patrick Jane! Psychic/ mentalist extraordinaire! Almighty CBI consultant! Surely you enjoy the spotlight!" he cut Jane again, across the cheek. "And you of all people should know to never bore your audience!"
Red John grabbed a fistful of Jane's hair and yanked it painfully, leaning down and whispering in Jane's ear: "Are you ready for the grand finale?"
With a glance at the glass, Red John grinned and raised the knife high in the air behind the battered and unaware Jane.
"No!" Lisbon screamed, tears running down her face.
But it was too late. Red John brought the knife down and stabbed Jane brutally in the back. Jane let out a long tortured scream and fell forward, suspended inches from the ground. He hung there, dazed and nearly unconscious.
"Jane! JANE!" Lisbon shrieked, pressing her hands to the glass and pounding on it repeatedly. He can't die, she told herself continually. He couldn't. He just couldn't. Not her Jane.
Red John stared contentedly at Jane for a while before straightening himself and approaching the glass wall. With inches to spare between his face and the mirror, he looked at it as if he could see right through it and into the eyes of the distraught team.
"He will live," he assured the team coolly. With those words, Lisbon's heart lurched and lifted. There was hope! With the assurance that Jane wasn't dead, her emotions shifted from sorrow and anguish to hatred and anger.
"You won't get away with this! You won't make it out of here alive, even if I have to hunt you down and kill you myself!" her voice wavered uncontrollably as she couldn't control her flood of emotions.
Red John began to laugh. It started out as a slight chuckle, but gained intensity and blossomed into hysterical laughter. "Agent Lisbon," he interjected between voracious bursts. "If you only knew!"
He backed up and seized Jane by the arm, causing him to yelp and grimace in pain. But the expected torture didn't come. Instead, Red John unlocked the chain holding Jane's right arm aloft. Freed from the bondage, Jane collapsed to the floor, moaning, the knife still biting into the flesh of his back.
Red John then walked over to Jane's other arm and released that one as well. His left arm flopped weakly to the ground.
"You see, Agent Lisbon," he said as he leaned over the feeble victim of his torture. "Your affection for Mr. Jane is your greatest weakness. It is because of this affection that you and your subordinates will allow me to walk out of this building completely unharmed."
With that absurd statement, he took hold of Jane by the waist and roughly lifted him to his feet. Jane expelled another tormented wail but was helplessly held upright by a shockingly strong force.
Lisbon understood. Red John was going to use Jane as a human shield. And with a sinking realization, she relented that he was right. There was nothing she could do. There was no possible way that she would risk Jane's life to bring down Red John.
With a click, the door from the observation room to the hallway unlocked. Almost instantly, a hoard of anxious CBI employees poured inside. They froze as their eyes caught sight of the bloody interrogation room, the masked villain, and their wounded coworker.
Red John, as if he knew that his audience had just increased, stated plainly, "If you want your precious consultant back alive, you will have everyone evacuate the path to the front entrance."
Slightly regaining her strength and conviction, Lisbon spent the next ten minutes doing exactly that. She gathered everyone in the building in the bullpen and forbid anyone from going anywhere near the interrogation room or the main entrance to the CBI headquarters. She walked back to the observation room, holding her breath as she entered to a familiar horrifying sight.
"It's done," her voice wavered.
"It's been a pleasure," and with that, Red John drug his captive through the vacant door to the next hallway and didn't stop until he passed through the double doors of the building.
Jane knew that he was being almost carried out of his prison. Other than that, he was too delusional to take in what was happening. Was Red John going to kill him? Was he letting him go? Was he dead already? His body was on fire, every inch of it. Most prominent was an agonizing, splitting pain that coursed through his back.
Suddenly, he was thrown to the floor, his head striking the ground painfully. He groaned and coughed, blood glittering the floor beneath him. He sensed a presence hovering just above him.
Red John lowered his own head to the ground and whispered a message only for Jane's ears, stood gracefully, and walked out of the CBI without a care in the world or a drop of blood on his shoe.
Back in the bullpen, Teresa Lisbon sat on Jane's sofa and watched as the first bloody smiley face dried and hardened. It might as well have been her heart, for if Jane didn't make it out of this nightmare alive, nothing was going to stand in her way for revenge. But luckily, as Jane's voice reached her ears and she raced towards it with all the speed she could muster, her heart was only for him.