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“You aren’t Patrick,” Lorelei Martins drawls the moment Teresa Lisbon slips into the interrogation room. The blinds are drawn, she’s locked the door and Lisbon knows she has exactly fifteen minutes before someone comes looking for her. In an orange prison jumpsuit emblazed with Sacramento County, Lorelei doesn’t look too surprised at her presence. “What a surprise, truly.” Lisbon doesn’t say anything immediately as she sinks down across from Lorelei, her fingers pressing against the cool metal of the interrogation table. “Does Patrick know you’re here?” Lisbon says nothing. “Ah. He doesn’t. What do you want from me, Agent Lisbon? I doubt you’re here to gossip or trade beauty tips.”


Lisbon breathes. “You slept with him.”


Lorelei blinks, before the serial killer’s mistress chuckles. “Is that why you’re in here with me, Agent? To ask me about sex?” Lorelei doesn’t stop her chuckling, much to Lisbon’s irritation. “Out of everything I thought I would be doing today; I obviously didn’t think I’d be giving the birds and the bees chat to a forty-year-old…”


“I doubt you’re an idiot, Martins,” Lisbon interrupts softly, before Lorelei can say virgin. Lisbon knows she’s many things, but she’s certainly not a virgin. “We both know why I’m here.”


“Do we now?” Lorelei glances down at her hands, her wrists handcuffed together. “I know why I’m here; something about a few questionable life decisions, I believe the judge called it.” Lorelei grins. “Your presence, however, still has me wondering.” Lorelei glances upwards, still smiling. “It’s not as if your magical presence will suddenly just make me decide to shit rainbows and be nothing but good, just because you’ve shown me the way to eternal sunshine with your ample chest and firearm.” Lorelei scoffs and Lisbon blinks. “Oh please. This isn’t a Disney movie. So, what do you want?”


There’s a pause, because Lisbon’s not entirely too sure how to react to Lorelei’s ample chest remark. “Why did you sleep with him?”


And then, there’s another pause before Lorelei responds evenly, “Why wouldn’t I?” She bites her tongue, mainly because she can’t blame the brunette before her; but judging from Lorelei’s rolling of the eyes, she suspects she’s done something to irritate the serial killer’s mistress. “I don’t know exactly what you’re hoping me to say, Teresa. Sex isn’t exactly a cardinal sin; Patrick was a fully consenting adult and I did what was asked of me.”


“By a sociopath.”


Lorelei shrugs. “We’re all entitled to our opinions, I suppose.”


It was Lisbon’s turn to scoff. “Red John’s a sociopath, Martins. He’s killed people.”


“Just because he isn’t working toward the American Dream doesn’t mean he’s a sociopath,” Lorelei responds curtly, glancing upwards with a slight smirk. “I’d also like to remind you, Agent Lisbon, you and your entire team have killed too.”




“You are. Patrick’s a mere consultant, who has killed both Hardy and Carter.” Lorelei shakes her head. “If Red John’s a sociopath for killing individuals, then so is Patrick.” Lisbon opens her mouth to argue. “And if that is the case; sweetheart, it means you’re no better than me.”


“I’m no mistress to a…”


“No,” Lorelei agrees, her lips quirking upwards. “You’re not.” Lorelei pauses. “Not yet, anyway.” Lisbon makes a fist with her hand. “I’m sorry, Agent Lisbon, but did you honestly think Patrick Jane was a saint?” Lisbon snorts and Lorelei, in her restraints, tilts her head. “He slept with me, Teresa. His fingers, twenty-four hours before he approached you, stroked my inner thigh. His fingers, forty-eight hours before he kidnapped you, got me off.” Lisbon catches Lorelei rolling her eyes again. “In my time of being Red John’s mistress,” masked amusement drips from Lorelei’s tone. “I never once was told or asked by Him to sleep with someone for information, and truthfully, I am not a harlot. I do have my values and I can say no.” Lisbon hears Lorelei inhale. Exhale. “So, for five goddamned minutes, please stop treating Patrick as the victim here—because he’s not. He slept with me out of manipulation, not out of fucking need.”


Lisbon blinks at Lorelei, almost surprised by the brunette’s outburst. However, Lisbon’s not about to give Lorelei the satisfaction of being heard. “So which values make it alright to almost cut off someone’s finger in the name of your Master?”


“Almost is the keyword here, Agent, as Patrick still has all ten of his fingers,” Lorelei points out. “I also did apologize.”


Lisbon glances upwards. Sighs. “That’s not the point.”


“No,” Lorelei tells her coolly. “I suppose it’s not.” There’s another moment of silence, before Lorelei continues. “In case you were curious, Patrick’s a good and cautious lover.” Lisbon bites her tongue and takes a deep breath, before she regards Lorelei with a cold stare. “We used protection too.”


“Well, that just makes it A-Okay then, doesn’t it?” Lisbon retorts dryly and Lorelei stares at her for the longest minute, before she snorts. “What?”


Lorelei blinks, meeting Lisbon’s stare. “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just I realized how similar we truly are for the first time.” Lisbon opens her mouth again, ready to argue, and Lorelei shakes her head. “What you and your team of acolytes did to lure Red John out of hiding, in the name of Patrick Jane, should have you all sitting in my spot; dressed to the nines in the same hideously ugly orange jumpsuit. Faking a kidnapping? Abusing a corpse? Hindering an investigation?” Lorelei glances at her nails again and Lisbon’s temper nearly flares. “Just because you can righteously justify your actions, or the actions of others closest to you, doesn’t make them right.”


Lisbon crosses her arms against her chest, unable to relieve the tightening within her chest at Lorelei’s spoken implication. “You work for a serial killer. Doesn’t that ever bother you?”


Lorelei tilts her head and asks softly, “Does it ever bother you that you’re not even really in control of your unit anymore?”


“No.” Yes.


“You’re an awful liar, Teresa,” Lorelei tells her. “But don’t worry.” She pauses, before she smiles again and Lisbon is reminded how twisted Lorelei Martins truly is. “You’ll get better at it, I can assure you—especially if you continue to follow him. Patrick will see to that, naturally, as Red John did for me.”