I'm quite surprised that the prologue received as much attention that it did! Thank you so much, all of you! Thank you for reading, reviewing, subscribing, and favourting. Quite mind-blown about it, actually, as it's an AU.

Kate alto - I'm really glad that you are liking it! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! :)
Kuhlama - Thank you so much! I hope I can keep it up!

Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever, own The Mentalist.

Chapter One

September 5-6, 2002

Patrick Jane was thankful for several things. One, he was thankful for his ever-escalating career. Two, he was thankful that his career happened to be particularly entertaining. And three, Patrick Jane was thankful that he had decided to work with the police.

That being said, if he had not been working with the police, then he would have never met one delectable Teresa Lisbon. As soon as his eyes landed on the petite homicide detective when he saw her in that corridor outside Minelli's office, he knew he was a goner. Despite that not being the most wondrous way to meet a woman, it only made it more memorable.

Teresa Lisbon wore her dark hair short, a little bit off the shoulders, which framed her face splendidly. The shortness of her locks also helped create her eyes to pop from her face. Her eyes alone were enough to make any man lust for her. That is, if she didn't intimidate them first.

Yes, the little firecracker of a detective was indeed a feisty one. She took no crap from anybody. Especially him.

"Snap out of it, Jane."

Temporarily pushing away his thoughts, Jane looked over at Lisbon as she came to stand beside him, a clipboard clutched in her hand. He smiled at her, one that would make all the middle-aged women turn into puddles of goo, and made a gesture for her to move past him.

"After you, Teresa." He knew she was not fond of him referring to her by her first name, but that was just another part of his elaborate plan in the attempt to seduce her.

She sighed. "Jane…"

He just merely tossed his head to the side. "Lisbon."

After her surname left his lips, she shot him a rather annoyed glare. It really didn't help. Her, at least.

Lisbon walked past him up to the most recent murder victim. She stopped before the coroner and started asking away the usual questions. ("What was the time of death?" "Do you have any idea what the murder weapon was?")

Pulling his attentions away from Lisbon, Jane started to look around the crime scene. It was a park, which much was obvious. Very public, so he wanted to immediately assume that it was an anonymous murder. Or, possibly, that's what the murderer wanted everyone to think. Then Jane looked back at the victim. It was a woman. Young, red-headed, and long-legged. Rather pretty, too, if it were not for the knife sticking out of her neck.

He thought it was safe to assume that the knife was the cause of death. Anyone who thought otherwise would surely need to be slapped upside the head. Though, leave it to Lisbon to be thorough and ask away either way.

For a couple of moments, Jane watched Lisbon scribble the last of her notes down. Afterwards, she looked at the coroner, muttered a "thanks" and set off towards Jane. He could not suppress the slight chuckle that left his lips when she scowled at what she had written. Or it could possibly be him. One may never truly know the truth.

She cleared her throat, "Victim's name is Ashley Sergent, twenty-one years old, and resides in Los Angeles."

Hmm, they were in Sacramento. Bit far from home. Especially in September.

"She's no college student," he stated, "Doesn't look the type."

Lisbon shrugged her shoulders and scowled again. This time, it was definitely directed at him. "You don't know that! We don't know that!" she protested.

He waved her off, "Meh."

Furrowing her brow, Lisbon clutched the clipboard tighter to her chest. "You pay me to make observations, Lisbon. Here I am. Making observations." He gestured to the public park around them. Yep, definitely making observations.

Lisbon looked as if she wanted to bite his head off. No, no she looked like she wanted to shoot him dead.

"Tell me, Lisbon, did you find any school identification in her purse?"

The petite detective shook her head, "No," her voice sounded very strained and annoyed. "But that doesn't mean that it couldn't have fallen out of her purse."

Once again, Jane shrugged his shoulders and waved her off. She narrowed her eyes and looked away. Smirking at her actions, he started to walk away and pull out his cell phone. He had to make a call to his wife, and explain how he was unable to be home in time for dinner. That he wouldn't be able to catch his flight.

The man was infuriating. Patrick Jane, that is. It was blatantly obvious that the man was not only a fraud, but also a licentious, two-timing bastard. It was not an uncommon thing to see the man meandering around Sacramento, heading off to a hotel, with some blonde bimbo on his arm. It only grew worse when he decided to move his unfaithful nature over onto her, rather than keep bedding the willing women. He wouldn't stop with the smoldering looks and suggestive comments. Or when he would "accidentally" brush against her. His advances only annoyed her.

What a cold bastard! He was married to a wonderful woman and a father to a beautiful little girl, and yet he would go off and lay with other women. Had he any conscious? She doubted it.

"Lisbon! Observation room, five minutes!"

Lisbon's eyes snapped over towards her superior, Senior Agent Roderick Martin. Agent Martin was well into his later forties, possibly even fifties. His hair was sparse in some areas, though the hair on his face seemed to make up for it.

She nodded, "Yes, sir," she said.

At his confirmation, Martin gave her a slight nod before he walked off towards the interrogation rooms. Sighing to herself in resignation, she started off a few steps behind him. Much to her dismay, she hated never being able to take lead in interrogations. When she lived and worked for San Francisco PD, and being practically married to the job, she thought that this transfer with all of her honours would grant her the ability to take lead in an interrogation. But of course, she was wrong.

Upon opening the slightly heavy door to the observation room, she almost groaned at the sight of an all-too familiar man standing next to the glass. At the sound of her entrance, he turned and flashed a bright smile in her direction.

"Jane."

He tipped his head towards her, his smile never faltering, "Lisbon." And she suddenly started to feel uncomfortable in this position.

Clearing her throat, she looked at a spot on the wall behind him, in an attempt to preoccupy herself. "I thought you'd be home with your wife."

His eyes snapped towards hers, making it impossible for her to look elsewhere. "We have a case," he said, "and I called Angela. Told her that I would be unable to arrive home in time for dinner. Or for the next few days."

Jane moved closer to her and she walked backwards until her back connected with the wall. She didn't like being cornered, and she was quite certain that he knew that. He ended up before her, his face a few centimetres away from hers. He was close enough for her to feel his breath just brushing across her cheek. And that made her think of…never mind.

"Jane…" she said in a warning tone, "What are you doing?"

The man before her pulled back a little bit and looked down at her, "I'm observing my subject," he stated in an almost bored tone, as if tired of telling her this over and over again. "And I must say that I am riveted."

Her eyes slipped shut and she tried to hold onto the wall behind her. "Jane, stop."

She felt him pull back away from her, which caused her to open her eyes. He was almost on the other side of the room again, and she straightened her posture. She was about to question as to why he had so suddenly moved when the door to the observation room opened up. In came one of her teammates, Agent Flores.

Agent Flores stopped a second and looked her over. The way he did so wasn't in an unflattering manner, but more so in surprise and concern. She appreciated Agent Flores' dedication to his wife. Unlike another in the room…

"Lisbon, are you all right?"

She nodded her head, "Yes, thanks," and tossed a look over at Jane, who wasn't even trying to hide his grin.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Once the interrogation was over, Jane took great pleasure in watching Lisbon scurry out of the observation room. She had kept her head held low, as if she were a wounded puppy running away. It kind of gave him some sort of satisfaction that he could get to her with so little effort.

Well, that was only half the satisfaction. The other half was how her body had responded to him being so close to her. The way her pupils dilated before they slipped shut and the sound of her breath slightly hitching in her throat. Oh, it made him only desire her even more than he had.

After he too had left the observation room, the senior agent came up to him and asked his take on the interrogation. In all honesty, he did not really want to talk about the interrogation, but he did so anyway. There was nothing suspicious about the suspect. The man was just…creepy and craving attention. Therefore, he did not commit the murder. Martin didn't like his observations, but brushed off any complaint before issuing it.

About an hour after the interrogation, he found himself leaving the CBI Headquarters. It was getting rather late, and he wanted to get some appropriate sleep the night before he would spend the next day doing two things: solving a murder case with his "psychic" skills and seducing Teresa Lisbon. Both seemed rather entertaining, and he hoped for the latter to be his reward.

Patrick Jane fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow that night. And he had nothing but pleasant dreams for the duration of his sweet slumber.

The next morning, Jane awakened feeling fresh and well rested. As per usual, from what he had gotten used to due to being on the road for the majority of the year, he showered, got dressed, and went downstairs to the hotel lobby for breakfast. He then set off for the CBI Headquarters once more that week. He arrived a little bit after nine that morning, and was rather happy to see everything going along as usual. People were moving around in a high-speed as they searched for leads (or coffee). It always brought some kind of smile to Jane's face.

He said his brief hellos to everyone and helped one agent locate the sugar before he sat in a swivel chair to wait for the specific team he worked with. Martin came first, as usual, with his briefcase clutched tightly in a hand. When he walked past Jane, he just gave him a stern nod before continuing onto his office. Jane thought about following him, but decided against it when Flores and Simmons walked through the door. Both men held coffees and chatted in a rather animated tone.

"'Mornin, Jane," Flores said as he walked behind his desk. "Sleep well?"

Jane rather liked Agent Flores. The man was a good one, albeit slightly foolish. He held onto so many false beliefs and claims that it detracted from a more objective point of view on life. Simmons, on the other hand, was a little less foolish. But not by much.

Simmons sat at his desk and plopped a, from what Jane could smell, a bag of glazed donuts on his desk. The very smell brought a smile to Jane's nose, as he knew that the last thing that Simmons needed was a bag full of sugary goodness.

"Seen Lisbon, Jane?" Simmons asked as he started digging through his paper bag.

Jane shook his head, "Not since last night."

The larger (and rather gluttonous) agent raised his eyebrows and looked over at Flores. Flores gave him a similar look, which was one of shock and curiosity. Strange, both hadn't seen Lisbon either. This meant she either spent the night at the CBI or having a really bad morning. Possibly both.

Without giving much thought, Jane took a donut from Simmons and sat back into the swivel chair, looking in the direction of the elevators. After eating the donut and brushing way the bits of glaze that had dropped onto his chest, he stood and made his way towards the elevator. Taking a brief moment to study it, he was rather surprised when the doors opened and out came one Teresa Lisbon.

She wasn't looking up as she walked through the doors, and that is why she ran head-on into him. The coffee she had been holding in her hand was knocked forward, onto him and all over the floor. At the searing pain caused by the hot coffee, Jane jumped back, yelped, and started to pull off his suit jacket.

"Oh, God!" she said, "I'm so—."

Lisbon caught sight of him. "Sorry," she finished.

Some of the coffee had leaked onto his vest, so he unbuttoned it without looking up at her. He had rather liked this suit, and was sorry that it had become soiled with coffee. And despite her apology, he was rather doubtful that she really was sorry due to him being Patrick Jane and all.

Looking up, he smiled. "Could not contain your excitement to see me, could you, Teresa?" he teased.

Jane watched as the colour rushed into Lisbon's cheeks and her eyes narrowed in a dangerous fashion. To most men, she was probably intimidating, but he wasn't most men. He found it rather endearing and sexy to see her like that.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

He looked around, pretending to look bored. "Well, I am consulting…"

Rolling her eyes, she walked away from him and towards the bullpen. The other two agents, Simmons and Flores, glanced up at her. She mumbled something regarding Jane and coffee, and after that, activity went back to normal in the bullpen.

For Lisbon, it was almost automatic to apologize to whomever she collided into. Especially when she had been holding coffee in her hand. But when she had pulled back slightly, enough to see that it had been Jane, the apology died on her lips. Or at least the sincere one. She only finished the statement because there were people watching.

And of course, he had to start undressing in front of her and make some sort of suggestive comment. At least he did not decide to go further, and fully remove his shirt from his body.

Later, upon noticing that some of the coffee had managed to stain her white blouse, she stood up to go get changed. When she returned to her little desk, a coffee was on top of her desk. Picking it up, she was surprised that it was from a gourmet little shop a couple of blocks away from the CBI. And upon tasting it, the flavour was familiar. And her absolute favourite.

She didn't need to guess as to from whom it was from, and she was tempted to throw it out. But she refused to waste good coffee. Even if it were from an arrogant fraud.

The rest of the day went by surprisingly easy. Jane didn't do anything that rude or that uncalled for. His suggestive comments were even kept to a minimum. By four in the afternoon, the case of Ashley Sergent's murder was solved, and Flores happily bid everyone farewell to go see his son's soccer game. Simmons followed not long after, saying that he ought to take his wife out to eat.

And that just left Lisbon alone in the bullpen, essentially. She sat behind her desk, checked a couple of emails on her slow computer, and tried to think about what kind of take-out she should have for dinner.

Upon deciding on grabbing some Chinese and returning to the bullpen to look over cold cases (Something she'd started doing about three months ago. She found it oddly relaxing) until she would decide to go home, Martin came up to her desk. He looked down at her from where he stood, his brow knitted together.

"Lisbon, you should go."

She raised her eyebrow, "Sir?" she questioned.

Martin took a hand out of his pocket. "The case has been solved and you shouldn't have to be here anymore. Go home."

This wasn't the first time Martin had told her after a case that she ought to go home. She didn't really like being told so, and she still was not planning on leaving.

So, to pacify Martin, she nodded her head. Martin smiled at her, lingered for a second, and walked back towards his office. Lisbon looked over in his direction briefly, took a deep breath, and started to reach for her wallet that was stowed away in her briefcase.

She wasn't really a purse-carrying woman.

Standing from her chair and sticking her wallet in the back pocket of her jeans, she started to make her way out of the bullpen when a familiar head of blond curls came around the corner. She paused for a second and had to bite down on her tongue to refrain from saying anything rude and inappropriate.

From seeing her, he smiled and started over to her. At that moment, she looked towards the elevators, and then back at him.

Giving her a slight nod, he spoke. "Leaving for dinner?"

She gave a quick nod. "Yes. And then I'm going home."

His smile only grew. "Where's your briefcase?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because, you would not be going home without it."

Lisbon stiffened and crossed her arms over her chest. "Sometimes I do leave it behind, Jane."

He shook his head, his grin only growing. "Not before weekends." She rolled her eyes once more and looked up at the ceiling. "Am I right?"

Cocking her head to the side and glaring at him, his smile dulled a little bit and he reached up to scratch his upper lip. He then pulled back away from her and gestured for the elevator.

"No," she said in a defiant manner, "you aren't right."

And she brushed right past him.

Oh, Jane, you lecher.