Title: Battlefield
Author: tromana
Rating: T
Summary: When Lisbon is framed as being a mole for Red John, her whole world is turned upside down. Can she get out of this situation unscathed, and will anybody stand by her as she tries to prove her innocence?
Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist. This was written purely for the joy of writing it. Artwork is courtesy of my two wonderful artists.
Notes: Written for The Mentalist Big Bang 2012. Fun fact: this fic started out as being a dream. With thanks to aprilvolition (who made the cover image I am using on here) and Lothiriel84 for providing me with inspiration and wonderful artwork. Thanks also to Miss Peg for being an amazing cheerleader and beta. If you choose to read this, I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Battlefield

Prologue

Two gunshots rattled in the air and Lisbon cringed at the sound of them. It was a sound she was accustomed to, but usually, she was the one responsible for firing the gun. Usually, she was down the range, or on rarer occasions, out in the field in self-defense.

This time, though, she wasn't even legally in possession of her gun. She'd been forced to relinquish it to the CBI prior to her suspension, and had only got it back through sheer luck. That didn't stop the fact she shouldn't have it at all, though, and she couldn't fight the gnawing guilt each time she handled it. Lisbon had pleaded with them, tried to make them see sense, but they claimed that the evidence had been insurmountable and that they had to take action prior to a full enquiry into the situation.

But this was Red John. They knew how wily, and cunning, and sly he was. They knew he was capable of something like this. But they were acting blind to the facts, her good character, her honesty and her practical incapability to lie. She'd spent years hunting down Red John; she had dedicated her entire CBI career to it.

As another shot whizzed past, she realized. The hunter had become the hunted.

She wondered briefly where it had all gone so spectacularly wrong. How everyone she had known and cared about had seemed to turn their backs on her one by one. And desperately, she wanted to clear her name. To prove for once and for all that she was completely innocent.

That she was not a friend of Red John's.

The very thought of that, even now, seemed utterly ludicrous to her. How could Teresa Lisbon, a woman who had dedicated her entire life to the apprehension of the deadliest criminals that California had to offer work for the notorious Red John in her spare time?

And yet, that was precisely what the people appeared to believe.

She hadn't helped herself by going on the run, she knew that. However, a currently nameless individual, but she had a shrinking suspicion as to whom, had forced her hand. It was either run or risk losing her life.

That, now, seemed to be a daily battle. Day and night, she found herself praying that she would get through the day unscathed. She wished that the whole world would see sense. Or that she would wake up to discover that this had all been some kind of horrible nightmare. As far as Lisbon was concerned, the situation was practically incomprehensible. And she was the woman who had watched – and even assisted on occasion – Jane come up with many a madcap plan.

She prayed Patrick Jane would put together the pieces and realize she had been framed for multiple crimes that she did not commit. He knewher; he had to know that she was innocent. That she wouldn't even dream of doing something like this.

And every day, it seemed like her prayers had been going unanswered. Just what had she done to deserve this? Why had she been chosen as the victim?

She had no doubt that Red John was behind this. The question remained as to what he planned to do next. There was a reason behind every one of his actions and presumably, this had been his idea in order to split her and Jane up. Lisbon had known that she had been on Red John's radar for a while now; it would have been naïve for her to think otherwise. Even if she did somehow get out of this with her life and her dignity, then the seeds of doubt had already been planted in his – and everybody else's - head. It was entirely possible that the damage had already been done. She hoped that wasn't the case and that she would be able to salvage her friendships, her relationship with Jane, her career even, from the wreckage. But with each day that went past, it seemed like this was becoming increasingly unlikely.

She flew down the flight of stairs and sheltered under a bridge in order to catch her breath. Her stamina wasn't what it used to be; the deprivation of sleep and food was catching up with her. Lisbon couldn't remember the last time she had a decent meal, and she never felt safe enough to sleep properly. Her anxiety levels were sky high and justifiably so.

And she was tired of running. Tired of pretending to be something she wasn't. Sick of feeling guilt-ridden for something she wasn't even responsible for.

If Red John had decided that, as a part of his master plan, he needed to have her framed as one of his acolytes, then so be it.

She was going to walk into the lion's den with her head held high.

And bring the bastard down from the inside.