A/N: Yep, yet another oneshot collection. This time it is for the 15genres1prompt community on LiveJournal. I have been supplied with 15 different fic genres/types/structures and a single prompt to write fifteen stories for it. I thought the best thing to do was to start this new collection as some of them will be more like 'snapshots' of different 'verses I could potentially write one day. So yes. I hope these are enjoyable as it's definitely a learning curve for me, for a start.

x tromana

Title: Discordance
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Characters: Jane/Lisbon
Summary: Lisbon, trying to close the Red John case on her own.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Written for 15genres1prompt. Genre: psychological thriller.

Discordance

She steeled herself. Breathing deeply, she tried to steady her breath, to slow down her rapidly beating heart. She knew that she couldn't risk showing any sign of weakness, any flaws in her armor. If she did, then she would be giving him precisely what he needed. It meant that he could use them against her and manipulate her however he wanted to. Then, she wouldn't have a chance in hell of carrying out her plan, never mind getting out of this sorry situation alive.

She knocked on the door. There was no point in stalling any longer. Otherwise, she would most likely end up talking herself out of this. It would make her run for the hills in attempt to escape.

Except, there was no escaping from Red John. If she tried to run, then he would know exactly what she had been intending, would realize why she had been trying to ingratiate herself in his inner sanctum.

If he hadn't worked it out already, of course. There was no denying just how sharp-minded the serial killer was. After all, it was why he had evaded capture for such an overwhelmingly long time.

Lisbon shuddered. She felt like she shouldn't be here. Nervously, she rubbed at her arms, trying to keep the circulation moving, trying to ignore the incessant ringing in her ears. It was like her whole body was trying to tell her this was wrong, that she needed to get the hell out of the situation. She was about to willingly walk into the lair of the enemy and it was taking all of her willpower just to stand on the doorstep alone. How on earth was she going to face what was coming next.

She tried to reassure herself with the simple fact that this was what she had trained practically all her life to do. Her firearm was to hand. Or rather, it was firmly strapped into a thigh holster. If things went wrong, as she anticipated they would, it wouldn't take long for her to be armed and dangerous.

She'd be fine. She had to be.

They needed this over, and fast.

Otherwise, Jane…

As thoughts of him flickered across her mind, she shook her head violently. Lisbon had to be careful. She couldn't let him cloud her judgment. It wasn't just him that she was doing this for; it was her job to do so. And there were so many other people affected by Red John and he seemed to forget that. They all needed the answers they so desperately craved and that was what she was about to get for them. She was determined to do so, anyway. The only reason she hadn't told Jane of this specific plan to bring down the serial killer was to protect him. If he knew, then he would be blinded by rage and land up getting himself hurt, or worse.

This was a form of damage limitation, of sorts.

It meant that only she was put literally in the firing range. Even Cho was just in a van across the street. Close enough to provide backup, but far enough away not to get involved in the fray.

And she knew all too well that this could quite easily get very messy indeed. After all, she was a cop. She was meant to fight injustice and evil, not sell her soul to the proverbial devil. And not only that, but she was Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon. It was well known that she was the lead agent in charge of the Red John case.

It was also remarkably well known that she had a particularly large soft spot for a certain Patrick Jane as well. Irritatingly enough, even people she barely knew seemed to be aware of that specific fact.

It had taken all of her powers of persuasion to convince Red John and his acolytes that that was all a facade. And a lot of training and encouragement from Jane himself, of course. She wouldn't have been able to do this without him.

Not that he knew what she was doing. No, all he knew was that she was doing some sort of undercover assignment and being a little rusty, required a few pointers from the expert of manipulation.

She hoped this would be worth it, desperately so. Jane needed freeing from his demons and he also had to realize that revenge was not the answer. And the only way she had been able to consider doing that was by carrying out her own private investigations into the Red John debacle.

In fact, such was her desire for privacy, she only informed one member of her team, Cho, just two hours earlier. Once she had told him the bare necessities of her plan and what she required of him for support, he was more than willing to provide her with backup.

She checked her watch before rapping smartly on the door once more. It was taking an awfully long time for somebody to answer the door. Significantly longer than he usually did anyway.

Lisbon had never actually met Red John face to face before. This was meant to be the first meeting. Apparently she was 'ready' and 'deserving' of it now. Whatever the hell that meant. Did it mean she had convinced them that underneath her honest, no-nonsense cop exterior laid a heart of steel? That she was capable and (apparently) willing to do innumerable abhorrent deeds?

Of course she wasn't, not really, but that was what they appeared to believe, or so she hoped.

Because if they didn't…

When the door slowly opened, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was about time as well.

The man who answered was masked, just as she expected. As with her previous visits, it wasn't Red John himself, just one of his acolytes. Answering his own door was far beneath him. Why did he need to bother when he had people who acted as little more than slaves willing to wait on him hand and foot?

The floorboard creaked as she gingerly placed her weight on it. Of course it did; even if she wasn't being guided downstairs by her silent chaperone, then she just wouldn't have been allowed to approach Red John surreptitiously, on her own terms. In reality the creaking was more likely to be serendipitous but Lisbon couldn't help but see the bitter irony of the fact.

The voices from the cellar were slowly but surely drifting upwards. So Red John wasn't alone in there. She was being greeted by a welcoming committee. With a gentle sigh, Lisbon straightened out her much too short red dress. It left very little to the imagination, but that was what his lord and master had demanded of her.

When an altogether far too familiar voice sounded out above the others, Lisbon felt as though her body temperature had just dropped considerably. It couldn't be him, could it? How the hell had he even known? She had been so manipulative, kept her investigations shrouded in secrecy and for good reason. Lisbon just couldn't afford for him to mess this one up, their one chance to finally close the Red John case for once and for all.

And as for the alternative, that he was an active part of the cult of Red John? Well the very thought was scarcely worth thinking about. It was one of those sick ideas that just required disregarding almost as soon as they had flitted to the forefront of her mind. An impossibility.

Or, she was simply a fool and had been taken for a ride. His haunted widower act was nothing more than the work of a cruel and manipulative genius.

Just like Red John.

Lisbon stared at yet another door. This one, to the cellar, was the very last thing that stood between herself and the serial killer. In reality, it wasn't anything particularly special, but Lisbon couldn't help but find it imposing in its own way.

That was more than likely because of what it signified. By opening it, she knew that she would be entering the unknown with no chance of backing out, no chance of a reprieve.

Her companion jerked his head slightly, in some sort of a twisted nod. Quizzically, she cocked her own head to one side before placing her hand on the cold doorknob.

Her heart had started beating its military tattoo against her rib cage once more. If Jane were here, Lisbon knew that he would probably describe her pulse as thready or something.

But he wasn't here. Because she was doing this with only minimal backup, so that he didn't have to risk his own life once more. He had already made one disastrous mistake when trying to kill red John. As far as she was concerned, it was simply fortuitous that Timothy carter had turned out to be a bad man as well. She wasn't sure how she would have dealt with the concept of Jane will fully slaughtering an entirely innocent man.

It was now or never.

She turned the handle.

Painfully slowly, the door swung open. The inhabitants of the cellar fell into a hushed silence. All five of them knew she was coming; not one of them questioned her presence.

"Welcome," said the one in the center, again in that familiar warm tone she'd heard outside.

"No," she murmured, more to herself than anybody else.

Lisbon swiftly removed her gun from its holster, but his friends were quicker.

Slowly but surely, he removed the mask obscuring his features. She froze like a rabbit caught in the headlights. But she had disregarded this, had considered it to be impossible. Jane couldn't...

He ignored the gun in her hands and closed the distance between them. With deft fingertips running up and down her spine, he made her shudder to her every touch. Just as he had done so the night before, in her bedroom at home. This man knew exactly what her trigger points were, just how to turn her on and when. It had taken him years to learn that very fact.

But this was insanity. How the hell could Patrick Jane be the very man he had vowed to kill? How did that work?

She was almost thinking too hard about the very fact before he firmly placed his lips against her own. Autonomously, she granted him access, allowing his tongue to deftly explore her mouth. Lisbon whimpered as his teeth pulled sharply across her bottom lip and she was powerless to do anything but respond to his savage, urgent kiss. When he finally released her from his thrall, she was left gasping for air.

Her gun had long since clattered to the floor; she hadn't even realized she had dropped it. Before she even had a chance to retrieve her weapon, somebody else had picked it up. The man now had it trained on her and she found herself glaring at him over her lover's shoulder.

"Yes," Jane hissed down her ear as he pulled away, shortly before peppering a few light kisses to her collarbone. "Anything is possible if you really put your mind to it, Teresa."

Taking a few steps backwards, he turned his back to her and snapped his fingers. The other men, the ones who had remained steely silent during the exchange, were suddenly alert and ready to pounce. Warily, Lisbon glanced from masked face to masked face. If only they would reveal their identities, it wouldn't even matter if she didn't know who they were. There was something exceedingly unnerving about being circled by nameless, faceless people. It made her feel as though she was losing any modicum of power she may have had by approaching this place willingly.

"I'm bored with her now," he said lightly and one of the other men nodded. "You know what to do."

She frowned. They may have known what to do, but that didn't mean she knew what the hell that meant.

All she knew was that she was going to fight her way out of this or die trying.

As far as she was concerned, there were no other options.