All is quiet in the university's public library. All of the students were doing homework or trying to cram for midterms, all but one. 18 year old Stella Sophia Jane was typing away, looking through directories as she searched through the 389 Teresa Lisbon's on record. She only had her name, and a faded picture to go by, but it wasn't till after 5 hours of searching did she find her.

"Special Agent Teresa Lisbon?" She murmured softly, her face knit in confusion. "My mother was a cop?"

She looked through, reading the small bio that was given on the police public records.

"Eldest sibling of 4, she lost her mother at a young age, her father physically abusing her and her brothers until he passed away when she was 18." She read, "determined to protect and serve, she entered the police academy and graduated the top of her class before becoming one of the lead homicide investigators of the CBI (California Bureau of Investigation). After the fall of the CBI offices, which were caused by the Blake association, a group of corruption through the police branches organized by the feared serial killer Red John, she worked as a sheriff in a small town of Washington for two years before joining the FBI (Federal Bureau of Investigation) in Texas."

The next sentence that she read, made her blood run cold and her eyes whell up with tears. "She worked for the FBI, until a tragic accident took her life on November 9th 2016."

She looked down at the faded photograph on the desk. The picture held a woman, with a gentle smile, green eyes, and long black hair. This and a small golden cross she has worn all of her life were the only things she had left of her mother.

She did the math in her head, she was only a year old when her mother had died. She didn't even suspect that she was dead and always felt a rush of anger at the thought of her mother abandoning her.

She wiped at the tears that fell, before saving anything and everything she could find about her on her flashdrive.

She typed a new name into the search engine. Patrick Jane. Thousands of articles flooded in, many about a convicted felon, others about a murderer, and the rest about a police consultant. She looked at the other photograph she had, the one of a blond curly haired man with blue eyes and a cocky grin, and noticed that in each of the articles, it was about the same man. Her father.

She was confused. How could her mother, a cop, marry and have a child, have her, with a felon, a murderer, and a consultant?

She looked into the same police website where she found information about her mother, and read the small bio for her father.

"A man of humble beginnings. Mother unknown, father, local Carnie and drunk. He escaped the circus life with Angela Ruskin. They married and had a daughter, Charlotte Anne Jane. Jane increased his wealth by conning wealthy widows as a "psychic medium", and helping police investigations with his many insights to the criminal mind. However, depression seized him when his wife and daughter were murdered by Red John, a serial killer that broke his Method of Operation to personally attack at Jane. After a year of psychiatric evaluation, he joined the CBI (California Bureau of Investigation) as a consultant and worked under Special Agent in charge, Teresa Lisbon."

Stella smiled softly, "so that's how they met," she whispered.

"There he helped her team become number one in homicide investigations while pursing Red John on a path of vengeance. After 10 years, he had killed two men under the alleged claim of them being Red John, before going oin the run for two years to South America as the CBI offices were dismantled. He returned on an agreement to help the FBI (Federal Bureau of Investigation) in Texas solve murders under certain liberties. There, Teresa Lisbon joined him and after a year, they were married."

She looked at the page, wondering if he was still alive or dead, when a small sentence at the end of the page read, "he now stays in the house where their wedding was held, after the death of his second wife."

"So he's alive." She murmured, "he gave me up."

She downloaded all of the information she found on a separate folder beside her mother's in her USB, before disconnecting it, gathering her things, and leaving the library.

XXXXXX

It has taken her three weeks, but she found where her father lived. She had driven all the way from New York to Texas, just to find some kind of closure as to why she was given up for adoption. She stepped up to the door, the porch floors creaking under her weight, and knocked three times.

She heard a soft sigh, and feet shuffling to the door. The man that opened, was taller than her, he resembled the photograph almost exactly, except for a couple of new soft wrinkles, and a bit more gray hair.

Jane looked at her, his eyes widening with shock and tears. Out of his barely used voice, he croaked out a soft, voice cracking, "Teresa?"

Stella stepped back, confusion dancing through her mind before she registered the name as that of her mother's and realized her father is confusing her with Teresa.

She shook her head, "No, I'm Stella. Stella-"

"Stella Sophia Jane." He finished, nodding softly. "You look exactly like her. Like your mother."

She knew he was right, her hair was the same deep black, her eyes were the same sparking green. The only difference she noticed from her and her mother was her smile, which she had known she got from her father. She looked down at her shoes, unsure of what to say. "Can I come in?"

He lead her in, motioning for her to take a seat on the couch. He offered her tea, refreshments, any snacks, but she politely declined, before he sat down on a futon before her. Neither one was compelled to break the awkward silence that fell upon them. Jane continued to watch her, his eyes seemed distant and far away, yet observing her every move. Stella loomed around the small cabin, noticing the dust that had settled everywhere, the dark, depressing tones that seemed to radiate from every corner of the room, until her eyes settled on the stacks of photo albums on the small table between them.

"I'm going to be-"

"19 in two months." He finished, nodding softly. She looked away, and an uncomfortable silence fell upon them again.

"Tell me about her." Stella spoke suddenly, her eyes snapping up to meet Jane's in an unwavering stare.

He looked down at the clasped hands in his lap, his eyes overcoming with tears. He swallowed a lump before clearing his throat and looking back to her. "She was a wonderful woman. Beautiful, kind, smart, strong. She," he looked to the side, his tears starting to drown his voice. "She was the only thing that kept me sane, even when I did many things to drive her away."

Stella watched as his sadness and grief washed over him. She listened to how he reverently described her mother. She could feel pinpricks at her eyes, but pushed it away, determined to find out more.

"How did she die?"

He looked at her, pain, guilt, and sadness stirring inside of him. He cleared his throat, looking off to the side, a frown on his face, before his eyes snapped back to her.

"I killed her."

Stella's eyes widened with fear and confusion as she processed this. "What?"

"I killed her. I was driving that night. I- I looked at her for half a second, and that car crashed into her side. The car flipped. I got out, before kicking down the door and getting her out, but she died in my arms."

He turned away, his mind going back to that night. The fire, the flames, the tears, the crying. Her last words before she passed away. A question snapped him back to reality.

"Why did you give me up?"

He wipes at his tears before looking at her. "I was a danger to you. I wasn't a good father. I'm NOT a good father. I caused the deaths on my first and second wives and of my first daughter. I wasn't about to cause your death as well."

"You gave me up for fear that you would cause my death?"

He nodded softly.

"Those were accidents."

"Accidents that I caused."

She stood, her anger boiling deep within her. "You gave me up because you were afraid. What kind of pathetic excuse is that?!"

He continued to look at her, "I had a right to be scared. I was a danger to you."

"What makes you say that?"

"We weren't alone in the car," he barely whispered. Stella had to strain to hear it, and she almost didn't.

She sat back down, "what do you mean?"

He looked at her, tears pooling in his eyes, "you were there. Of course, you don't remember. You were only a year old, but you were there. You suffered life-threatening injuries. You slipped into 12 comas before your vitals regulated. When I was finally able to get you out of the hospital, I realized that if I kept you with me, how many close calls would it take until there's no more?"

"You're lying." She could barely believe what he was telling her, she just couldn't accept the fact that she was there. That she almost died along with her mother.

Jane reached up to the mass piles of photo albums and pulled out a scrapbook hidden underneath it all. He set it on his lap, turning the pages before he find the one he was looking for and turned it for her to see. Covering those two pages was a hospital bracelet for a toddler, an accident report, and a couple of crime scene pictures.

Her eyes teared up as she read the report and looked at the pictures. The bloody mess. Jer mother's face, scratched and lifeless. The destroyed car seat.

Stella looked at Jane sitting in his seat, his eyes far off. "What did she say?"

He smiled softly, "you seem to have gotten my intuition." He turned back to her, "I assume you mean to ask, what were her last words?"

She nodded softly, he looked away once more, tears falling. "The usual things. I love you. Be good. Take care of our daughter."he looked at her, swallowing a lump at his throat before his eyes swelled with tears. "I couldn't possibly take care of you if I was the reason you died. So I have you up, so that you can have a better life than this." He motioned softly to himself, "than me."

"Those words haunted me since the night I gave you up," he thought but didn't say.

She stood, anger and the ghosts of her past driving her tears, "you gave me up because you believed you were more of a danger to me than the world? The real world?"

She glared at him, "Well, you're wrong. Because of you giving me up, I was bounced from foster home to foster home. Each one worse than the last. I've been beaten, whipped, yelled at, tortured, starved, and more, because I was given up to the state. Because of you!" She cried, her knees buckling under her. She fell to the ground, her hands flying to her face as she sobbed.

Jane, seeing her distress, keeled down beside her, wrapped her up in his arms, and held his little girl close after all these years.

When her tears had lessened somewhat, she looked up at him and whispered, "daddy?"

He kissed her forehead, and whispered back to her, "I'm here."

The End