Title: Into The Dark

Characters: Lorelei, Red John, Jane, Lisbon

Genre: General/Introspection

Summary: She just wants to be loved and she supposes, in a way, this is true for Red John as well.

Spoilers: for episode 4x24

Prompt: "Snake (swallowing a flower)" by Hungry Ghosts (instrumental) – The main inspiration was the title, but listening to it while writing this also did feel right.

Notes: Written for the Paint It Red September monthly challenge.

I think that the waves will devour
The boatman and boat as one;
And this by her song's sheer power
Fair Lorelei has done.

Lorelei, by Heinrich Heine

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There's blood on the wall and a dead body on the left bed. The stranger, whom she immediately recognizes as responsible for both, leans against the antique dresser that was a gift from her Dad when she started Law School. Even now, in this absurd situation, it strikes her as completely out of place in this shabby dorm room and proofs that her father doesn't know her at all. The man looks at her now, his expression changing sharply from complacent to hostile. She suspects that, just like herself, he never before found himself in such a predicament.

Quickly, she glances at her dead roommate and experiences none of the emotions that she knows should overcome her. The lack of grief isn't all that surprising; the bitch surely got what she deserves. The absence of fear though is something that slightly unsettles her. The man killed before; the infamous trademark on the wall tells her as much. There is nothing at all between her and the knife that he holds. Behind her, she feels the impenetrability of the door that she closed after entering the room. And yet, acting impulsively and stunning herself, she lets her keys drop to the floor and takes a step closer to the precipice. She senses the murderer's perplexity when she – unarmed, unhesitatingly - gets ever closer to him. Looking into his eyes, a small smile forms on her lips.

She knows even before he realizes it: she won't die tonight.

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For seventy-three days he shields her from the world. Until day twelve of her stay he doesn't utter a single word. She's okay with this arrangement; he wants her to earn his trust. Obediently, she eats the food he provides, wears the clothes he brings her. The house is run-down and dusty, so she decides to restore it to the beauty it undoubtedly once had. Polishing furniture and scrubbing floors, she is aware of him lurking in doorways, but he lets her do as she likes.

She never misses her former life and hardly ever her freedom. Only sometimes, at night, she believes to hear the unmistakable sound of waves and longs to leave the house to bathe in the rough sea.

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During her first days in solitude, when Red John does go out, she reinvents herself. He doesn't question her decision when she tells him that her name is now Lorelei, the maiden who drowned herself and was reborn as a water sprite.

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He is a book lover. She likes to get to know him better by inspecting the novels he owns and reading the sophisticated annotations he made. Personally, she prefers psychological thrillers and can see that he – stealing a glance at her from behind his newspaper – approves.

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It doesn't take her by surprise when she one day feels his arms around her; she never expected their relationship to be strictly platonic. Invading her space, he traps her against the kitchen counter while she's drying the dishes. Decidedly, she turns around to wrap her hands around the back of his neck, forcing him to bend down to meet her lips. They don't bother finding a bed, sink down to the cold floor instead. He moans with pleasure the very first time she shifts her hips.

She rides him until he comes.

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Her reunion with the outside world happens on a mild day in spring. The sun warming her face and the certainty that he watches her from the house fills her with an unexpectedly deep affection for this place and the man who brought her here. Suddenly, she belongs somewhere. And to someone. If she'd be less cynical, she'd conclude that this is where she was always meant to be.

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She notices that he never laughs and rarely smiles and suspects that the happy faces he draws in his victims' blood are his preferred way to express joy. When she asks him about it, she learns the rough way that he doesn't like to talk about his feelings, but later discovers that he kisses wounds to make it all better.

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He teaches her to shoot with a rifle and lets her practice for hours at a time until both inanimate objects and live creatures grow hazy. Eventually, it doesn't matter anymore to her if she fires at tin cans or animals.

For her twenty-fifth birthday he gives her a stolen police weapon and moves her to tears.

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Attempting to make herself useful, she offers to act as a mediator and he uses her services all too gladly. Again and again, she lures unsuspecting women into a false sense of security before introducing them to Red John. He is killing more frequently now, according to newspaper reports, so she ceases reading them. She doesn't need to fuel the unwanted images that haunt her every time she leaves another victim to her fate.

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Eventually he challenges her to get actually involved. She delivers that last required proof of trust without hesitation, but then, her hands wet with blood, slips out into the night to throw up in the backyard. She's sitting at the curb when he's finally done, feels the warmth of his palm at the back of her head and leans into his touch. When he tells her that they are a good team, she believes that she'll get used to the gory part of their relationship as well.

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On the day of their second anniversary, post-coital, Red John reminisces about old successes. The fact that he kept a man named Patrick Jane a secret for so long and the way he talks about him now intrigues her. She spends hours looking the guy and his late family up at on the Internet and links the date of those murders with their first sexual encounter.

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At night, lying awake, she sometimes sees the faces of those she observed dying. An endless parade of dread and beauty that she first endures, but learns to cherish and absorb as a means to give her life purpose. A little girl's face, which she only ever saw in pictures, mingles with them for reasons she can't quite explain.

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Year after year goes by. She's a secretary. A prostitute. A teacher. A grocery clerk. A prison wardress. Everything that Red John needs her to be.

People join and leave his life, while she remains his one constant companion. She concludes that allying with him is a dangerous choice to make, but that the special bond they share keeps her safe. For the time being.

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One day, out of the blue, he announces that he needs a change of scenery. The excitement that she initially feels soon gives way to disillusion as she watches him pack. His whole equipment – computers, monitoring technology, weapons – gets stored in the van and hardly leaves room for vacation dreams. By the time they hit the road she is in a state of trepidation while he seems unusually exhilarated.

He misleads her by granting her a whole week of fun in Las Vegas. On the morning of day eight she learns the real reason of their trip and her intended role in it. She feels a pang of jealousy as Red John speaks so fondly of Patrick Jane, but she knows she'll help him gain Patrick's trust anyway.

She just wants to be loved and she supposes, in a way, this is true for Red John as well.

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Using her new job as a waitress, she observes her target for weeks. Studies his facial expressions, his gestures. Learns to predict his actions. Notices this enticing mix of charm, bravado and potential martyrdom. She can see his appeal now and is actually looking forward to introducing herself to him. But Red John, always a stickler for timing, makes her wait for the perfect moment. When she finally gets the go-ahead, it feels as if she and Patrick are already old friends.

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She never before watched an animal documentary, yet finds it quite entertaining in Patrick's company. It's been years since she last averted her eyes from the suffering of a living creature, but being with him she feels she has to. Just as he is different than Red John – one a passive observer of natural selection, the other playing God – she deems it necessary to behave in another way around him. As she shields her eyes with her hand, acting vulnerable and coy, she discovers traces of her former self. The one that she so desperately wanted to get rid of at the time she met Red John, but that now makes her feel rather pleasant.

She relishes her role as an ordinary woman on a date with a handsome man. Savors every kiss, every touch. Tries to prolong the break from her other, darker life as long as possible. Yet never she loses sight of her mission completely.

Red John has observed them and is very proud of her, his message at the crack of dawn states. Curled up next to her sleeping new lover, she tries to imagine her future life with both him and Red John in it.

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Red John is uncharacteristically withdrawn after the news arrive that Patrick tries to fool him. She is impressed that Patrick attempts to stand his ground, believes that his apparent absence of fear makes them kindred spirits. Her loyalty to Red John briefly flickers when she is handcuffed and rudely shoved into a police car.

It's not regret of taking other people's lives that she feels as she watches the desert fly by outside the window, but maybe regret of wasting her own.

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She is surprised to discover that her initial impression of Agent Lisbon is one of sympathy. Sitting across from her in an interrogation room, she deems it foolish to think that Patrick could have actually killed someone like her. Watching the two of them interact, she knows that Red John is right. This woman is the enemy, the obstacle standing between Patrick and eternal darkness. Yet she senses that Lisbon isn't as strong as she pretends to be, that she knows just as well as her that today Patrick might have already begun to cut the thin line binding him to Lisbon's world.

Her decision to precipitate Patrick's descent into Red John's realm is easily made. That woman means nothing to her, while her life is revolving around Red John for almost a decade now. So she keeps mum, smiles and refers to Patrick as her lover just to watch Lisbon cringe.

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She doesn't fear imprisonment; she doesn't need much, has her mind as a means to keep her busy and happy.

She isn't afraid of dying; she believes that death isn't the end.

All that matters to her is that her passing has a meaning and she is convinced that Red John will see to this.

It doesn't come as a surprise when, a few months after her conviction, she recognizes one of the prison guards as a former house guest of Red John. What she doesn't expect is that he comes to help her, not to eliminate her.

She sleeps the day away, only wakes up when the taxi stops in front of the house that she considers her home. He waits for her in the dining room, they both do.

"Welcome home," Red John says.

Patrick Jane, however, only smiles.

ღ The End