Sting

Teresa Lisbon hoped this day would never come. The day Jane would finally come face to face with Red John and desperately seek out his revenge against the man who took everything he loved away from him. She had told him countless times in the past few days that he had to let the justice system take care of it, to let it go. He would never agree to that.

Now here she was, up for thirty-three hours with her gun drawn, pointed towards Patrick Jane. Jane had clutched a knife in his hand, knuckles turning white, nails cutting into his palm. Red John had a sickening smile on his face as he held an ordinary knife. Sick bastard.

"Jane, put the knife down," her voice sounded shaky…but bounced off the walls in the small room nonetheless, "Please," a simple plead…in a whisper.

His eyes were filled with pain and longing. Now he was to make a decision that could change everything. His relationship with everyone he was around every single day. But then again, the man in front of him took away everything. This man needed to be stopped. Many men would want to get their hands on him, see how he died the same way his victims died. That was what he deserved.

"Jane…"

A cackle was heard throughout the room, resonating through the room, chilling Lisbon down to the bone. This sadistic man before her wanted nothing more then to tear apart Jane's world. He knew that Jane would kill him then and most likely Lisbon would shoot Jane to prevent that.

But he was wrong.

Jane lunged towards the man, letting out a fierce cry, ready to rip this man to shreds. Blood pounded in his ears, fire in his eyes, Red John was not going to leave this room alive. He was sure of it; he would not let that happen. Red John moved back, away from Jane, the blonde consultant lurched towards him again; Red John moved his knife out towards Jane's neck. Out of the corner of his eye, Lisbon pulled the trigger, a bullet exploded and lodged into Red John's chest, immediately making his heart stop.

But a sickening smile still plagued his features as he fell back, knife clattering to the floor, blood pooling around the lame body.

Jane stared, without moving, at the body before him. His knife clattered to the floor and he sunk on his knees. It was all over; Red John was gone, out of his life and no longer a danger.

One thing was missing, though. He never got his revenge. Lisbon took it from him. He thought she was the only one he could trust, the only one that could understand, but he was wrong. He turned around towards the petite agent, fire apparent in his eyes once more. She was in the process of lowering her gun, still frozen in place after what had just happened.

Jane stood up, clutching his hand in a fist and moved towards her quickly. He stopped closely in front of her; she had just set her gun on the ground, watching it before moving her eyes up to meet his.

"Jane, I'm," she was cut short when she felt a sudden stinging sensation build up in her cheek. It spread and suddenly felt warm. Her head moved one way, curls falling in her face. She pushed herself back and held her cheek; pain was evident all over his face.

"He was mine," was all he said before he left her in the dark room with the fresh corpse of Red John.

"He was mine…"

Six Hours Later…

Lisbon sunk down in her office chair. She wanted to cry. Honest to God she wanted to cry out to her mother, something she had not done in years. She wanted all the hurt and pain to be taken away from her. She felt as if she was born to just be a human punching bag. Ever since her death, people have been hurting her mentally and physically. There was no end to that, there never would be.

She leaned forward in her chair; a few tears fell from her eyes. It would never be the same, he would hate her, want her away from him. She took a deep breath, her body shook where she sat. Lisbon fisted her hands in her hair and twisted, feeling the tug and pulling sensation. She then let out a shallow breath.

"Lisbon?" It was Minelli. She looked up quickly, jumping slightly in her chair, "I wanted to inform you that," he paused, searching her eyes, "Jane gave me this," he slapped it down on her desk. She did not need to look at it to know what it was.

Resignation letter, she had been expecting it.

"Go home," he told her.

"Yes sir," her voice shook, she didn't care for the first time.

As she lie in bed that night, she kept her eyes focused on the ceiling. Something she would do with Jane, or 'Patrick' as she called him would do after a passionate round of lovemaking, or that's what she thought of it. She would rest her head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat, her own personal lullaby. She would draw circles on his chest, place soft, loving kisses on his flesh. He would run his hands through her hair, she would then nuzzle his neck as he whispered 'I love you' ever so softly, as if someone was watching and he had only wanted her to know.

She loved him too, she still did. That is why she could not let him kill Red John.

The next day when she arrived at work, there was another letter on her desk, from him.

Lisbon, she took note of the usage of her last name.

Goodbye…

It was written in his neat, cursive script. She clutched it tightly as if a lifeline. He was gone, he had left her just like that, all because she tried to protect him…He had told her he would let justice handle it…after she had told him about how she encountered the college student that killed her mother, the main reason for all her pain. He had promised her he would never bring anymore hurt into her life. She was a fool to trust him.

She was such a fool.

Three Years Later…

Lisbon sighed as she rolled the window up to her department issued SUV, it was night. It happened once more, another Red John copycat. Some sick man wanted this to 'stay alive'. He had even made that apparent by writing it on a piece of paper, but the guy forgot about the possibility that his fingerprints could be on the paper he had given the CBI. They had an ID, they were pursuing it, and his name was Roger Flemming.

She pulled the SUV into the driveway, cut the engine and drew her gun, placing it behind her back incase of him observing her from the high window. She looked back as Cho arrived in the sedan behind her; she nodded before heading towards the door.

She knocked once, then twice, no answer. Cho appeared at her side, gun drawn. A crash was heard from the side of the house, a window was broken. Through the dark night, Lisbon saw a retreating figure fleeing the house. Lisbon took off, quickly running after him, down the long narrow street.

"Police, stop!" she yelled after the hooded figure.

He stopped and turned towards her quickly; she continued to move after him. A glittering shine was seen through the night, she stopped abruptly, knowing what it was, a gun, she raised the gun in his direction.

"Drop it!" she yelled, finger down on the trigger and prepared to shoot.

"He lives!"

Three shots were heard, two bodies fell.

Lisbon clutched her stomach as she felt blood pour out of the open wound. The other shot had missed her completely, lodging into a nearby tree. She closed her eyes at the pain. Blood slipped through her fingers, stained them red. She fell to her knees before falling down on her back.

"Boss!" she felt as if she was underwater, her vision was blurred as dark spots appeared. Everything was going black; her senses were being cut off. She spasmed, then everything went black as she gazed down at her hand, covered in crimson blood…

Her eyes opened briefly, "Kara," her daughter, was the last word she spoke before she was completely gone…

…

Grace Van Pelt sat down at her desk and observed everyone's reactions towards the death of their boss, Teresa Lisbon. Only a few hours ago she had been notified about Lisbon's demise, it was a never ending thought that entered everyone's minds.

She looked over her computer screen and at the two and a half year old girl, sitting on the old leather couch in the bullpen. She had soft dark reddish-brown curls framing her soft pale skin. Her bright bluish-green eyes looking down at the ground as she clutched the soft white lamb to her chest. She wanted her mother. Grace's heart went out to the small child, losing her mother at such a young age, it wasn't easy.

On a usual day Kara would be vibrant and happy, smiling at every little thing and driving her mother half way insane fifty percent of the time. She was a sweet little girl that did not deserve this, mother dead, father out of the picture.

Now back to the ongoing search of Patrick Jane…

One Month Later…

Patrick Jane walked onto the street during the busiest time of the day in New York City. He moved forward, head held up high as he walked towards Grand Central. The constant honking of the yellow cabs caused him to turn and smile slightly, just another day in the Big Apple.

But he stopped when he saw the one person he never thought he would see ever again. Virgil Minelli. The man stood before him in an expensive suit, hands grasping one another in front of him. He did not appear to be in a decent mood.

"Virgil," he said nodding.

Minelli's face did not change, he continued the same look he had before…Jane now saw sadness in his eyes, "She's gone, Jane," he did not understand.

"Who?" he leaned forward.

"Teresa," Jane couldn't believe it, he wanted to say no, say it didn't happen, "She died last month," he never thought this would happen, she would be alive, she would always be alive. She wasn't meant to die before him, not yet. Just never.

"How?" he breathed, tears and anger welling up inside, about ready to meet their breaking point, "What happened?" he moved closer towards Minelli, "Why wasn't she protected?"

"A Red John copycat shot her, Cho couldn't get there fast enough to intervene," Jane didn't want to believe it, it just couldn't be true. This had to be a joke, nothing but a sick joke. Teresa Lisbon was alive and well, not underneath the cold ground, motionless.

"Jane, there's one more thing."

He looked up at his old boss, "You have a daughter."

"I have a what?"

Minelli didn't say anything, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a photograph and handed it over to Jane. There was his Lisbon holding onto a small little girl. The girl had pale skin with curly brown hair with a slight reddish tinge. Her bright eyes and large smile showed how happy she was. Her pink cheeks just added to how innocent she appeared.

"Her name is Kara Victoria Hope Jane," Jane fingered the edges of the photograph and swallowed the lump in his throat, "Born October 9, two and a half years ago."

She had been pregnant, and he had left her.

Hit her.

"When do we leave?"

"Right now."

…

Jane nervously ran his fingers over his CBI visitor's pass. This was not what he would consider a casual visit. Minelli stood by his side, resuming the same position he had in Gran Central Station. The doors opened and Minelli walked out, Jane cautiously behind him. His former boss opened the doors to the bullpen and stepped through them, Jane followed.

Cho was the only one who turned towards him, the man got up and moved towards him, placing a hand on his arm, nodding and leaving the bullpen. Rigsby, clutching a sandwich, did the same, following his friend.

Jane then looked before him, his beautiful daughter, Kara sat on his old couch next to Grace, who was busy reading her a Doctor Seuss book. Kara looked even more like her mother in person.

Minelli cleared his throat, capturing Grace's attention. Her eyes widened as she took in Jane's appearance. She then looked down at Kara and picked her up lightly and moved towards the two men.

"Jane," Grace spoke softly, "Why did you leave?"

"I couldn't stay here…"

"Daddy?" Kara's soft, sleepy voice was heard through the room.

"Yes?" Jane asked softly, more amazed then anything else.

"My uh, mommy say you come."

Grace readjusted Kara on her hip and smoothed a loose strand of hair, "She's quite observant for a young child, plus Lisbon would show her pictures of you, you haven't changed."

The first time Kara was placed in Jane's arms he cried.

How could he have left Teresa?

Wow, I've been in quite the angsty mood. This thought has been in my mind (as well as with others) and I thought I would go ahead and write it out. Might write a follow up on this one, might not. Depends, maybe a "what if Lisbon actually lived?" All endless possibilities.

Please Review, they are like chocolate and licorice, very therapeutic.