Canon: This fanfic starts about one year after Jane and Lisbon's marriage. Lisbon had a baby girl, whom they named Michelle. She's currently on maternity leave, so in a sense, she and Jane are completely cut off from the FBI.

Important Note: Their memories can be retrieved. They have been blocked, not erased.

Disclaimer: The Mentalist belongs to Bruno Heller. I'm making no money off this story.

Chapter 1: Back to the Start

One week ago

Someone was knocking on their front door.

The sound would last for a few seconds and then, followed by a long pause, it would repeat itself with the precision of an alarm clock.

Jane flipped an eye open to check on the time only to find that it was still long before sunrise. Though there was already a hint of daylight permeating through the opening of the curtains.

The sheets rustled at his side, followed by a deep inhalation of breath. Though still numb from sleep, he could clearly discern the hint of weariness in her sigh. She shifted restlessly under his arm; the corners of her lips pulling downwards to form an adorable little pout, one she seemed unaware of. He knew that she hated being woken up so early in the morning. And for that, he would make whoever was behind that door pay.

Poising himself on his elbows, he lowered his head to place a soft kiss on her forehead. Then, his lips moving of their own accord, he kissed the top of her nose and lastly, he caressed her lips.

"Good Morning Mrs. Jane", he whispered; his breath brushing her mouth.

Feeling her sleepy smile made his lips almost instantly mirror hers. He pulled back to appreciate her naïve; sleepy form, marveling at the glorious feeling of waking up at her side, sharing those early; raw moments of the day with her.

"It's actually Mrs. Lisbon-Jane", she corrected him; her voice muffled from sleep; eyes still closed.

His grin grew wider. "Ruining the magic as always", he muttered, though his voice was full of fondness.

He saw the familiar furrow take shape between her eyebrows as she prepared to complain.

Only she never did.

Because just then, another sound filled the room. And he thought, if there was a heaven, this should be the music that played there.

The sound of his daughter mumbling in her sleep.

His former laughing expression reformed to one of complete awe and wonderment. Beneath him, Teresa's eyes jerked open, her face inclining toward the direction of Michelle's crib.

The pounding on the door came again, but he completely ignored it.

Slowly, with the reverence and loyalty a servant approached his master, he rose on his feet and went to meet the extraordinary little creature that had managed to bring such disarray to his life and soul.

Michelle's eyes—his eyes—gazed directly up from her crib into his. And he would swear that the world had suddenly stopped spinning or he had accidentally traveled to a timeless zone. His heart melt in his chest as he bent down to gather her tiny form into his arms.

"Hey", he warbled; voice sounding teary. She curled her fist around his finger, her eyes still staring at him in wonderment.

"Is she alright?" Lisbon worried from behind him.

"She's mesmerizing", he answered in astonishment.

The knock on the door interrupted his moment with his daughter, bringing him back to reality.

"Don't worry. I'll get rid of them in a jiffy", he promised her and turn around to hand her over to her mother, who had adjusted herself in a sitting position.

With one last kiss on her forehead, he let go of his daughter.

"Hey, little one", Teresa chanted, her face lighting up at the sight of Michelle.

Jane smiled and leaned toward his wife to give her a peck on the lips. As soon as she realized his intentions, she stretched upwards to meet him halfway.

"Be nice", she told him, holding his gaze.

"Don't worry", he reassured her, though there was the slightest hint of mischief in his voice.

Lisbon shook her head, but didn't say anything.

His robe was hanging from a stanchion near the door. He took it and wrapped it around his frame, not bothering with the straps. Maintaining his casual; happy-go-lucky stride, he walked out of their bedroom to the area of the living room. The comfy; spacious quality of the place made it hard to believe that it used to be no more than a barren shack.

Lisbon's blanket was spread untidily on the couch where she'd left it the night before. She had been particularly drowsy after giving birth to their daughter, which was quite fascinating, seeing how their roles had changed now. He took the coverlet and neatly placed it on the backrest; a warming feeling soaking his heart.

Then, fixing his gaze on the door, the way a lion eyed its prey, he took the last few steps and drew it out of the way.

Upon seeing him, the woman, whose fist was hovering just before his face, smiled apologetically, withdrawing her hand in the pocket of her coat.

Well, it wasn't just any woman. Jane recognized her, taking in her familiar dark red hair and piercing blue eyes. He had met her about a week ago, when she'd come to their residence to present them with an outrageous offer, one he and Lisbon had mutually turned down. Remembering its gist now, his mood toward her grew even more detestable.

"Mrs. Trisch", he greeted her; retaining a cold expression. "To what do I owe this early visit of yours?"

"Forgive my impertinence, Mr. Jane, but this is very important. The whole country is in danger. And we need the best we can use. You and your wife have made quite an impression in the field of law enforcement. I know you've already rejected my offer because of the danger it portends, but you have to understand. This matter concerns me as much as it concerns you", she said.

Jane studied her, a flower of dread unfolding its petals in his chest. The woman's voice didn't sound like she was asking for something, but rather like she was apologizing for her actions. Before he had time to fully read her intentions, she pulled her hand out of her pocket, holding an electric taser. He heard a stifling sound escape his lips as he folded in half and fell on the floor.

The last thought his mind drew to his conscious was that of his wife as he'd left her minutes ago, their daughter in her arms. His lips tried to form her name, but blackness was faster, absorbing him entirely.

Now

Aunt Annie was cooking a roast, the smell of scorched meat meddling with the characteristic odors of the carnival. He watched her with mild interest from a reclining position, his ever restless mind predicting her every movement just before she made it.

Though he'd observed this little ritual of hers a thousand times in the past, he couldn't help deriving a negative feeling from it now. As if there was something particularly sickening in the way she put the meat on the stove and turned the temperature all the way up.

As always, he retreated to his memory palace, searching for an event that would have made him feel that way. But instead of his neatly organized; colorful exhibits of memory, he was met with a dull trail of black smoke. He tried to see through it, but his eyes would never focus enough. That effort proved fruitless, he tried to walk past the wall of mist, but suddenly his feet were fixed on the ground.

Someone would think he was… dreaming.

Jane's eyes fluttered open to a white ceiling. Before he could draw any relief in the fact that he was actually sleeping, his surroundings forced their way to his conscious, completely disorientating him.

His first assumption was: his father was playing tricks to him. There was no way he would have voluntarily boarded himself on a high security government facility, unless they'd dragged him here by force. Then, another voice whispered in his mind.

His father was dead. He knew he was dead. Yet he couldn't remember how he had died.

However, there was even worse news than that.

A quite considerable part of his memory palace was missing. As if someone had erased it with a rubber, leaving a dark void behind.

As it was normal, all his other senses suddenly started heightening up to cover this lack of awareness. His mind switched to high-vigilance mode to clearly assess his situation. He was wearing no handcuffs, which crossed out the possibility that he was a criminal or a captive.

Then again, maybe he was held under different circumstances.

Reclining himself to a sitting position, he cast a quick glance around the room. He didn't let it show on his expression when he spotted the two hidden cameras—one just above the door and one on the clock hanging from the wall just opposite him. For the ignorant eyes, he was just looking around lost, which, he guessed, was exactly what these people expected from their prisoners.

Just then, the door opened and a woman walked in the room. He took in her appearance—blond hair gathered in bun; innocent, wide brown eyes; military training. She was a young CIA agent. Judging by the shortness of time that transpired between his awakening and her arrival, he realized there was someone constantly supervising the cameras, watching his every movement.

The woman approached him.

"Hello, Mr. Jane", she regarded him in a clear; professional voice that set off her naive looks. "I'm agent Hirsch. How are you feeling?" she asked him.

He took a moment to answer.

"Attacked", he said curtly.

His straightforwardness had instant effect on her defenses. She smiled widely, loosening her careful; measured stance. He resisted the urge to grin complacently. The girl, of course, was completely unaware of the fact that she'd just been manipulated.

"Yeah, sorry for that. I was sent here to explain things to you. I know you don't remember anything, but you work for us here. Your special knowledge in human behavior has helped us solve many cases in the past. Unfortunately, during our latest case, you and another agent of ours were abducted. We believe you found precious information concerning our opponents, so they had to block your memories. However, good news is you have extremely high perception skills, so maybe you can help us figure out what exactly happened to you", she explained.

Jane studied her carefully. Strange, he thought. She was actually telling him the truth. At least, she honestly believed she was. That, or she was a cold-blooded liar. Well, he would find out about that.

"Aislin, right?" he asked her.

Her eyes widened with surprise. "How-how do you know my name?" she inquired.

The use of the word "know" instead of "remember" didn't slip his awareness.

Of course, he could provide her with a very reasonable explanation. You're wearing a heart necklace with the letter "A" carved on it. It's an old-fashioned piece of jewelry, so obviously, not something you bought but rather something that was passed on to you. Maybe from a grandma that shared the same name as you. You're Irish, so probably an Irish name that was popular in your grandmother's years. Hence, Aislin.

"Your grandma told me".

She stared at him in bewilderment. "My—my grandma's dead", she said cautiously.

Jane maintained an eerie expression. "She's here", he told her, voice distant. "She wants me to tell you that she's okay and that she's glad you're still wearing her necklace". He then pretended to sever the connection. "She's gone", he said.

Seeing her shocked expression, Jane smiled consolingly. "I guess then that you don't know me personally, agent Hirsch. Because if you did, you would have probably known that I'm a psychic", he said.

Hirsch was still in absence of words. Slowly, the color returned in her cheeks. "Um… actually, I'm new here… How did you do that?" she asked.

"I told you. I'm a psychic", he answered.

"Wow!" she exclaimed.

Jane shrugged his shoulders with modesty, pressing his lips together in a humble manner. "Actually, agent Hirsch, I'm really thirsty. Could you please do me the favor and bring me some water?" he asked, his voice sounding hoarse.

"Sure. I'll be back in a moment", she said and turned around to leave.

"On second thought", he said, making her stop in her tracks. Once he had her attention again, he continued. "I think I would prefer some tea".

Aislin nodded, though he could see in her expression that he was putting her in an effort.

After she left, he waited exactly for ten seconds. Then, he rose on his feet and drew the force of his gaze directly at the camera above the door.

…..

Trisch sat at her desk, her gaze cast at the window that occupied the entire wall of her office. Though she had her back at him, she could still sense the presence of her partner, sitting directly across from her. Only seconds ago, he'd announced to her the news of Mr. Jane's awakening.

"Does he remember anything?" she asked in a flat voice.

"All the memories of his wife have been blocked. And since his first marriage played a crucial part in meeting her, he doesn't remember anything of that either", he explained.

"What about the evidence he can find in the social media?"

"Every account on his past has been erased, along with his live appearances on TV. NSA has been taking care of that", he explained.

"Good. Make sure he and his wife stay separated. They could trigger memories to each other and we certainly don't want that. Mr. Jane has to genuinely trust that he's being told the truth. Otherwise he won't be cooperative".

Just then, her partner's phone started ringing.

"Yes", she heard him answer.

There was a long pause. After a moment, he spoke again.

"What?" he exclaimed, rising from his chair. "What do you mean he ran away? How?"

At that, Trisch whirled in her chair, alarmed.

"What's the matter, agent Landstone?" she inquired, once he closed the phone.

Landstone slung his shoulders with surrender. "He has escaped", he said, uttering each word separately.

She pierced him with her eyes. "How?" she demanded.

"It seems like he stole the key card from agent Hirsch and then hypnotized the guy that was supervising the cameras… through the camera", he explained.

"Well, find him!" she yelled.

"I don't think chasing him down would be the best idea", Landstone contradicted.

"What do you mean?"

"He's lost his memory. Obviously he's looking for answers. Sooner or later, he'll have to come back. Then we'll just make sure he stays".

"And how do you suggest we control him?"

Landstone seemed to be considering that for a moment. "Well, it seems that taking away the memory of his wife also took away any ability to control him", he finally concluded.

Trisch shook her head with weariness. "Well, then I guess that leaves us with only one choice", she said.

Landstone looked at her questioningly.

"We need to make him meet with his wife again".

A/N: So, I thought, now that the show is over, many of us would love to, you know, go back to the start. So this story came up. As for the name Michelle, well, I thought it was fitting that they would name their daughter after Vega to honor her memory. Also, I think it's a perfect symbolism, since Michelle's death was what brought them together. Anyway, I would love to know what you think of this idea. Your reviews are always much appreciated.

Next Chapter: Lisbon's POV & Jane and Lisbon's first encounter.

P.S. If you're following my other story, Message In The Rainbow, it will be updated within this week. (Hopefully on Friday).