On the run (Mentalist Fanfiction)

Chapter twelve: Necessarily Vengeance

Hello! School's going to start again this week and I won't be able to write a chapter everyday from now on. Ugh. School. I'm going to end this story; maybe next chapter. I want to start writing a new fanfiction about Jisbon struggling in their relationship because Red John comes back to taunt them. Oh yeah, and this part of the story is very sad so in case you're sensitive; Grab tissues! And I also want to say, thank you so, so much for reading this story! I always feel like a child getting a present on Christmas when I read your comments or see that you've voted on this story. :D Thank you so much!

Then she heard the voice of Alex Jane. He was running through the hallway of the CBI office, towards the elevator. Lisbon stood up immediately and pulled out her gun. She pointed it at him and told him to stop, but he didn't hear her. Rigsby and Cho weren't chasing him. He'd probably escaped when Rigsby and Cho were reading through some files or presumably trying to find a lead to save Van Pelt. So, Lisbon ran after Alex. To her surprise, he didn't go directly to the elevator, but to the stairs opposite from it. He was going to the attic, to Jane.

Lisbon followed the man to the attic and tried to stop him. She tiptoed her way up the stairs, almost stumbling over a couple of boxes that were laying around. A couple of them rolled down, causing them to open on the impact. Files were flying everywhere. Lisbon sighed at the mess she'd made, she would clean it up later. Who left these boxes on the stairs anyway? Quickly moving on, she continued going upstairs. When she finally came upstairs, she saw that Alex Jane had pushed open the door of Jane's comfy attic and had stopped in the doorway, his whole body trembling like a drill boring into the ground. His sweaty hand palms were placed against the walls, as if he was trying to push them away. From far away, she could see a glimpse of a bloody smiley drawn upon the wall in Jane's room. Her breathing accelerated, pupils went wide. She felt sweat sliding down her neck and forehead, she'd never been so anxious before. Scared to see what could possibly be in that room, or whose body was laying there, she wiped away the sweat, closed her eyes and let out a deep shakily sigh and resentful opened her eyes again. Holding the gun in front of her, pointing at the shivering man, she slowly approached the room. 

"You.." Stuttered Alex, looking at the horrifying sight in front of him. 

Lisbon pushed him out of the way and startled as she saw Jane trying to drag a body over to the closet. The opened closet had blotches of crimson red blood in it on the bottom. Jane looked up immediately, shocked. He dropped the arms of the body to the ground and gasped, not knowing how to explain this. Lisbon pointed her gun at him, disbelieving he'd murdered someone. His clothes had stains of blood on it, which had already dried. His hands were also covered with blood. Speaking about blood, his eyes were bloodshot, as if he had cried just a minute ago. Her eyes dazed off to the Red John smiley, she thought about it.Then she comprehended everything, okay maybe not everything but at least some things..; Jane had found this man's body, which was his own brother's body. He was murdered by Red John. She didn't quite know how on earth the body got here without people noticing, she knew though that he was murdered here; in Jane's only zone where he felt safe, and could think about anything. Why was he trying to hide the body though? 

"Patrick. You.. killed him.." Mumbled Alex, tears streaming down his cheeks. Betrayal, he'd felt it before, but not like this. No, this was worse. There were no words to explain what his son had done to him, no words. Alex's mind was struggling with the sight in front of him, he felt his brains become numb and soggy, as if they were going to melt. He wasn't realizing what he was doing anymore. The only thing he felt was a heat fastly boiling up inside of him, lava flowing through his arms to his hands; he clenched his fists, ready to slam someone to the ground. And that person was his own son, his own blood. Alex charged at his son with clenched fists and punched him against his already bruised jaw.