February 21, 2011
I yawned as I stepped off the elevator at CBI HQ; I was incredibly tired and certainly showed it. It had taken all my strength and will to get up this morning andget dressed, let alone do my hair, so I pulled it back into a ponytail, leaving my bangs to do whatever they felt like. I sighed, the case we closed last night had been particularly tough on me; a mother had been murdered by some crazed serial killer that named himself "The Candy Man" or something stupid like that. It had left a fifteen year-old girl to take care of her three younger brothers and live with an alcoholic father, to whom I had somehow managed to be put in the state penitentiary for child abuse. It was hard for me because it reminded me all too much of my own childhood. I'm Teresa Lisbon, Senior Agent in the Serious Crimes Unit of the California Bureau of Investigation. I grew up in a hard place. My mother was killed by a drunk driver when I was thirteen, leaving me to become the mother figure for my three younger brothers, and also forcing me to deal with my alcoholic and abusive father. When I was eighteen, CPS finally took my father away from my brothers and me, and stuck all four of us in the system. We hopped from foster home to foster home for a year, when I finally left after my senior year in high school and joined the San Francisco PD, and finally landed myself a job, here at CBI. Anyway, so today upon entering the bullpen of my team's area, I noticed something wrong. No one was occupying the desks, which seemed a little barren with no occupants. I shrugged, figuring that it was one of those days where everyone was late. I let it fly because my team worked hard; they deserved a little break sometimes. I retreated into my office and plopped down into my desk and began to finish the paperwork on the Roland case from earlier in the week. I groaned as I remembered why I hadn't slept a wink last night. Today was the day I was being plastered with a new team member, actually a consultant, Patrick Jane. I knew a little of his history, he had been a self-proclaimed "psychic" living in Malibu, about twenty minutes from Sacramento, home of the CBI. He liked to be flashy and was helping the police on cases when they had come across the case of a serial killer named Red John (which now happened to be my case). Patrick had tried to confront a TV show that he was guesting on, and ended up having Red John kill his wife and only child. He was so mad that he had been put in a mental institution for a year, and was finally coming out, and said he wanted to return to his place at the CBI, if and only if he was put with the Red John team. This unfortunately, is my luck. I couldn't help but wonder why I knew that name… Patrick Jane… I kept pondering this as I made my way to the break room for my daily start of coffee. I noticed that the bullpen was buzzing with its usual activity; all of my team, Kimball Cho, Wayne Rigsby, and my rookie Grace Van Pelt were all chatting quietly as we waited for our next case. "Hey boss," said Cho as I walked by, and I waved and gave my team a small smile as I went past. I smiled as I was walking back to my office, a steaming mug of coffee in my hand. Grace, Wayne, Cho, and I had been together since junior high. At our senior year, I was shipped off with my brothers and never knew what happened to my best friends until I came to the CBI. It was great having all my best friends with me on my team; it was comforting knowing I had people I could trust around me. I smiled as I watched my team and friend laughing, and I didn't notice as my coffee mug tipped over and spilled onto my jeans. "What the…" I looked down as I began to feel something warm on my legs. I didn't even see the wall as my small frame collided with it.
The next thing I knew, I was laying on the couch in my office, my head pounding. As I blinked my vision into focus, I saw a pair of bright blue eyes staring down at me, followed by a mess of blonde curls and a concerned face. The man above me made me jump, causing the two of us the knock heads, sending him toppling onto the floor. I bit my lip, stifling back a laugh. I observed the man groaning on my office floor. He was relatively tall, and had a head of perfect yet messy blonde curls, and a hundred watt smile like I had never seen before. "Why hello there Teresa Lisbon, long time no see." My smile was larger than his. "Patrick Jane you ass," I looked him in the eyes, punching him in the arm. "You have a lot of explaining to do."