Costume Jewellery

Prologue

A woman had piqued his interest.

She was a brunette, her hair gleaming due to the blinding lights beaming down from the ceiling. Clad in a dress of the most beautiful emerald shade he had ever seen, she seemed to be the life of the otherwise boring fundraising event. Though he only managed to get a glimpse of her face, he clearly saw a charming smile adorning her lips, freckles situated on her slim face and deep green eyes, which were the obvious reason for her attire of the evening.

Nonetheless, the brunette didn't catch his eye for simply being a pretty face. No, he had seen many of those flock around him with his looks. It also wasn't because of the self-confidence she was radiating from within, or that faux smile which was believable enough for everyone except him. Rather, it was the daunting feeling that she didn't belong there – surrounded by a large group of wealthy people – so apparent in her posture.

In his mind, it didn't make sense. Her dress didn't seem to be made of cloth even a dime cheaper than the clothes of any other person in that room. The jewels adorning her neck in no way resembled an imitation and her looks were not inferior to any other woman there. Everything about her screamed money and ease, except the damned way her shoulders slumped once in a while when she thought that nobody was looking.

That was when he noticed a delicate wedding ring on her finger and his riddle was solved. The mystery woman turned out to be a stay at home wife, he concluded. One, which is experiencing issues with her husband and dislikes being left alone to mingle with strangers.

He lost his interest immediately. Disappointed, he started playing with his own wedding ring, wondering if he was losing his touch. How in the world wasn't he able to figure out such a cliché scenario from the first glance otherwise?

"Patrick Jane! It's been a while!" An oh-so-familiar voice of Walter Mashburn roared behind him.

"Only a year and few months." A crooked smile appeared on Patrick's lips.

When he turned around, he saw a brown-eyed man with his dark hair slicked back. Walter was dressed in a traditional – as well as a very expensive looking – tuxedo and a black bow tie that went with it. The only splash of colour in the man's event attire was a green pocket square. A one of nearly the same emerald shade as the dress of the mystery housewife.

There were tiny smiling wrinkles starting to form around the man's eyes. A feature Patrick Jane didn't recall seeing the last time they met. Upon a better inspection, he also noticed a wedding band made of gold tightly clasping his ring finger. It had many tiny scratches on its surface, indicating just how long it had been occupying the tiny strip of flesh.

About five years ago was the first time Patrick had seen Walter with that particular ring. They had met by accident. Walter had been on a date with a bombshell blonde and he had just happened upon them. Of course, the woman's hand was void of any sort of jewellery indicating her marital status. Even back then, the ring seemed to have been quite worn and Patrick distinctly remembered wondering what kind of woman his wife could be. Someone not enough for him to stay loyal, yet someone he could not let go.

Walter Mashburn was the reason behind Patrick's presence at this event, particularly the kind which Patrick Jane always chose to avoid. Too many rich and entitled people who perceived themselves to be the centre of the universe for his taste.

Though he and Walter were friends, they weren't that similar. Not only in physical appearance – which was, of course, a given – but also, in character. Walter liked fast and expensive cars, wild girls and having sex with them. Walter didn't believe in love. In retrospect, that was undoubtedly the reason behind the man's frequent divorce rate and – in his current marriage's case – lack of fidelity.

On the other hand, Patrick Jane was the opposite of Mashburn. He liked having fun but had found that material possessions no longer gave him happiness. He had never cheated on his wife or had a divorce on a whim. Patrick actually found it comfortable being in a committed and monogamous relationship.

But years ago, he used to be almost exactly like Walter. With the exception of the complicated love life, of course.

Yet, there were still some characteristics the two men shared. Both of them loved theatricality, playing stupid mind games on others and being the smartest person in the room. Though, they had both come from quite poor backgrounds and made their riches on their own merits, hence those traits could have just come with the new territory.

"Is Mrs. Mashburn here today?" Patrick asked anyway, despite already having a nagging suspicion.

"Oh, you want to meet her?" Walter grinned, ready to call upon his wife. There was a certain giddiness in his voice which made Patrick even more interested.

"I would love to."

"Don't move." He motioned and left Patrick behind.

Surely enough, in about five minutes, Walter appeared before him once more, but this time with the mystery housewife from before. The woman seemed even more uncomfortable than when he had first seen her, no longer bothering to hide her displeasure at not being able to flee this god-awful place, some regarded as heaven.

"This is my good friend – Patrick Jane." Walter did the honours. "And this is Teresa, my wife."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Patrick." She extended her hand in greeting.

Up close, Patrick noticed that her freckles weren't just contained to her face and nose. Lonely freckles continued to extend down her neck and even her shoulders.

"Oh, but the pleasure is all mine." He flashed her a blinding smile while taking her hand into his own and kissing the back of it.

Upon touch, Patrick noticed just how callused her hands were. Nothing like the ones which were fit for a housewife with enough money to hire a whole army of maids to do her bidding. Her grip was also a lot firmer than he had expected it to be. From afar, she had looked as if she was in a pretty good shape, but now Patrick could see that it went beyond that. Though her muscles were not visible Patrick guessed that she works out almost daily.

"Occupational hazard." He jested when the woman caught him staring a moment too long.

"Don't worry, I have quite a few of those myself." Teresa responded with a smile but continued looking at him a bit funny.

"You see, Teresa's a cop." Walter chimed in. Clearly, he was entertained by the way the two adults danced around each other.

"Actually, I'm a special agent at the FBI. Most of the time I work with murders and kidnappings." She corrected her husband. "I can see you have a problem with cops."

"What gave it away? I'm pretty good at controlling my facial expressions."

"You just look like it." Teresa admitted.

He could see it in her eyes that she had to hold herself back from straight out saying that he looks like a con. Of course, she wouldn't be wrong but it still amused Patrick.

"Oh, that wounds me. I've been insulted but not every day do I get told that I look like a criminal. Actually, some people even claim that I'm their knight in shining armour. But you're right. I have a problem with cops and they have a problem with me." He grinned in response. "Another occupational hazard."

AN: This is my first Mentalist fanfiction. I'm very excited to be writing it and hopefully, it will turn out great. This is going to be an AU (as you might have already noticed), but I still hope that I will be able to capture the characters well. Also, I enjoy writing and reading angst the most, hence this fic is going to be pretty angsty if I dare say so myself. If you're someone who's more into fluff, I advise not to read any further than this.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the prologue and will continue enjoying the future chapters. Positive and negative comments are welcome.