Title: Welcome to Your Life
Rating: M (for language, violence/torture, and sexual assault/other sexual situations)
Summary:"Welcome to your life, Teresa. Are you ready to be miserable?" AU fic about what happens when Lisbon is the one whose past was tragically affected by Red John.
Genre: Romance/Angst/AU
Pairing: Jane/Lisbon
Disclaimer: Not even close. I wouldn't want it anyway.
Author's Notes: Written for the 2010 The Mentalist Big Bang on JF. Also my first attempt at a multi-parter for TM. Don't let the fact that it's an AU scare you off - for the most part, the characters are the same. It should also be noted that the M rating is really only for cautious purposes. For the most part, this story leans more toward a T.
Huge thanks to iloveplotbunnies for being the freaking best cheerleader ever! I have no doubt that this fic would never have been finished without your support and encouragement, and I'm so glad you were my cheerleader - we've formed a super awezing friendship, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.
Heaps of thanks to Afterglow04 for being the most awesome beta on the face of the planet! Seriously, there were so many rough spots I hit with this story, and they would still be disaster areas if you weren't there to smooth out my "I-wrote-this-at-four-in-the-morning-and-it-makes-no-sense-HELP" mistakes. You are truly amazing, and I appreciate you so very, very much.
Thanks a bunch to tromana and x .lithium for creating some terrific art for this story (which can be found on the Jello-Forever forum). You both rock!
Prologue
"I'm home!" Teresa Lisbon calls a bit enthusiastically as she steps through the door, bounding into the home she's shared solely with her three younger brothers for the past couple of years now. At the age of seventeen, there's plenty of bounce to her step, and her face is flushed with the exercise of a long run. She takes a swig of water and runs a towel across her forehead, soaking up some of the sweat that's accumulated from the exertion.
Strange, she thinks to herself as she unlaces her sneakers, at least one of them should've called back to me by now.
A frown muddles her expression as Teresa makes her way upstairs, heading for the back room that her brothers usually hole up in for an invigorating afternoon of video games - she, herself, will never see the appeal of such a waste of time.
"Tommy?" She calls out as she approaches the door, pushing it open gently without bothering to knock. "James?"
She stops short of calling for her other brother as a scream pierces her ear drums, and it takes a minute for her to realize that she is the one screaming. Her eyes dart around the room frantically, but all she can see is blood and body parts; an overly-cheery smile is smeared on the wall in blood, consuming her line of sight, and a wave of nausea hits hard as she takes the whole scene in.
"Oh, God. Oh, God." She manages to mumble weakly as she crouches down next to Tommy's body.
He lies in a pool of blood, his body sliced and mutilated in numerous places, and her eyes cloud with tears as she looks over to find the same fate has been dealt the other two. Her hands feel a bit wet, and her eyes widen when she notices that some of their blood has now stained her hands. She runs to the bathroom, barely making it in time before she empties her stomach multiple times over. She feels weak and disoriented, tears streaming down her face. Who would do this? Why did it have to be them? Why not me?
She can't stomach another look into that room, so she sits on the bathroom floor and cries harder than she ever has in her life; she hasn't cried so much since her mother was killed in a car accident five years ago, and the feeling of grief is overwhelming. Teresa takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down enough to handle a phone call to the police. In a futile attempt to steel herself against her jumbled emotions, she mechanically stands up and walks downstairs in the direction of the kitchen. She manages to find the nearest phone, feeling somewhat detached from her body as she presses four buttons, 9-1-1-SEND, and waits.
"9-1-1, what's your emergency?" An operator's voice rings in her ears, sounding somewhat distant.
"My brothers. They're..." Deep breaths, Teresa. Calm your emotions. "They're dead. Someone killed them. I don't know; I just got home and... found them." She takes a few ragged breaths, fighting the fresh wave of tears that burns behind her eyes.
"Ma'am, what is your location?" A hint of concern in her voice, less peppy than a few moments before.
Teresa rattles off the address and, after the operator assures her that local emergency services are on their way, she thanks her and hangs up. More waiting.
Police are swarming her house now, and some sort of crime unit has been called to assess the situation. She's standing outside on the lawn, her eyes puffy and swollen, wrapped in a blanket to ward off the cold. Never mind the fact that it's the middle of August and blazing hot outside; she has chills all over. An officer approaches her somewhat tentatively, and she can tell from his pale complexion that what he's witnessed inside her house is not something he's exactly accustomed to.
"Uh, Miss? I need to ask you some questions... would that be all right?" He asks nervously, pulling a pen from his pocket and holding it poised over his little notepad.
She shrugs and raises her eyes to meet his gaze, unsure what sort of questions she's supposed to have the answers to.
He clears his throat, seemingly putting on an air of professionalism, and looks at her with sympathetic eyes.
"What's your name, Miss?"
"Teresa Lisbon." Why am I being asked this?
"And... your relationship to the, uh, victims?"
"They're my..." she sniffles a little, determined not to break down again. "They're my little brothers."
He jots that down before moving on to his next question. "Where were you this morning, Ms. Lisbon?" He asks, his voice sounding a bit hesitant.
She wonders about that for a moment, but as the implications of the question sink in, a bit of rage tints her voice.
"You think I...?" She doesn't have the heart to finish the question, but he seems to get the hint.
"We, uh, have to ask, Miss. It's protocol. Please, answer the question."
She narrows her eyes, her voice cold and steely. How dare they even think that about me! "I was out for a run; same as every morning."
"Can anyone confirm that for you?"
Exasperation fills her voice as another wave of tears hits. "I don't know, sir. Why don't you ask some of the neighbours; maybe they saw me from their windows!"
The officer clears his throat, somewhat surprised at her outburst of emotion. "Okay. That's all for now, then."
It's not until a few hours later that Teresa notices the note. She's slowly shuffling around her bedroom, gathering a few things in an overnight bag, when she sees it sticking out from the corner of her mirror. It's tucked amidst a collage of photos, and she probably wouldn't have noticed it had it not been for that same bright red smile on the outside. She gasps, dropping the bag to the floor as she reaches for it. She's not quite sure she even wants to know what it says, but she goes through the motions anyway; grab the note, open it, read it. A simple message, but the words written there say enough to make her collapse to her knees, once again feeling the sting of tears.
Welcome to your life, Teresa.
Are you ready to be miserable?
-xxx-
The memories disappear in a flash as the shrill clangs from her phone pull her back to the present. Lisbon, as she's addressed by now, had applied to the police academy as soon as she was old enough, and with a fierce determination that has stuck with her, she worked her way up to her current position. So here she is, eighteen years since that life-altering day: Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon in charge of the Serious Crimes Unit at the California Bureau of Investigation. A mouthful of a title, but it's one she's very proud of.
"Lisbon," she mumbles into the receiver.
"It's Minelli. I need you in early tomorrow; we're bringing in a consultant to help out your team, and I want you here to meet him first thing."
A hundred objections rise to the front of her mind, but she pushes them aside and swallows her doubts. She can't exactly argue with the boss anyway. "Yes, sir. I'll be here."
"Great. His name is Patrick Jane, just as a heads up."
She makes up her mind right then to do a quick background check on this guy, and the call quickly comes to an end. A consultant? Really?
"Van Pelt!" The rookie perks up at the mention of her name, always eager to prove herself. "Run a check on a Patrick Jane for me, would you?"
"You got it, Boss." She nods with determination, already vigorously tapping away at the keyboard. A smile tugs at the corners of Lisbon's lips as she realizes not for the first time just how much Van Pelt reminds her of herself when she was starting out.
"Here you go." The redhead grins as she rotates the computer screen in Lisbon's direction.
She just barely holds back her laughter as she reads.
"A psychic, huh? Well, this should be interesting." She rolls her eyes. What is Minelli thinking? Psychics are nothing but a bunch of fakes.
Her eyes widen for the smallest moment as Van Pelt scrolls down the page to a picture of the man in question. He could almost pass for a Greek god – piercing blue eyes, a mega-watt smile, and golden curls that make you want to run your fingers through them just at the sight. It doesn't hurt that he's clearly in good shape too, judging by the muscles peeking from beneath the form fitting tee and relaxed fit of the modern style jeans he sports in this particular picture. She lets out a sigh, almost inaudibly so as not to tip off the hopeless romantic on her right to her change of mood. I guess I'll have to wait and see what tomorrow holds.