Chapter three! Just so you know, I have a huge Classical Studies exam in three days. I should be studying. But instead I'm writing. Oh, well. It's not like I want to be a classical historian, or anything. I would much rather be a writer. :)

Again, thanks for reading! I am always so surprised by the amount of people who actually read my Fics. :) I want to give you all a hug and a cupcake. If I could, I actually would.

Ashlee-Rose :)

Disclaimer: I don't own the Mentalist. How about it, Bruno Heller? CBS? Wanna give it to me? No? Okay then. Whatever. :b

Chapter Three: The CBI Homicide Unit

I stood there staring. Just staring. The face on the wall was every bit as terrifying as it had been the first time. But this time, the fear was eaten alive by vicious anger. I tore my gaze away, pressing my fingertips into my closed eyelids until it hurt, breathing hard.

I didn't know what to do. I had the bucket of soapy water at my feet, a sponge in my hand. Ready to scrub the mocking symbol from the wall of my bedroom, to erase all traces of that man from my house. But I couldn't. I swallowed hard, sitting down on the floor in the middle of the empty room.

As sick as it seemed, I couldn't wipe the long-dried blood off my wall. Not until it was over. And it would only ever be over when Red John was on the ground before me, screaming through an agonising death. I smiled at the image. I would get rid of the smile on the wall once I got rid of the man who had painted it.

Standing up abruptly, I began pacing, feeling restless. It had only been two days since my release from the hospital. I had come home to a stripped-bare house, except for three boxes – one for Angela, one for Charlotte, and one for me - filled with our belongings. And, of course, the symbol on the wall.

I hadn't touched either of the boxes of items that had belonged to Ange and Charlotte. Just looking at the ragged blue rabbit ear poking out of the second box had made me want to rip my hair out. I took a deep breath, focusing my mind back on Red John.

How do you catch an un-traceable serial killer? You don't. I thought, heart sinking like a lead weight. But then I mentally shook myself. No, I thought firmly, boiling hatred replacing the dread. I WILL CATCH AND MURDER THAT SON OF A BITCH.

Pulling my cellphone out of my pocket (I had discovered it inside my belongings box and charged it), I rang the number stored under 'Sac PD'. I had known it would come down to this, known for a while. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't do this totally alone. My heart began to thump harder as the phone rang. And then -

"Lewis." The familiar voice of Detective William Lewis hit me hard, making me swallow. He had been the main cop 'in charge' of me, and we had developed a close bond. Well, by that, I meant that I had analysed him and then used my 'psychic powers' on him. I swallowed, feeling sick at the thought of my past life.

"Hey, Will. It's Patrick Jane." Silence. Then the reply, hesitant, shocked, softer. "Jane? Is that really you? How... How are you, man?" He sounded genuinely concerned, which I appreciated, but ignored.

"I'm fine. Listen, Will. Do you think there is any chance I could come back in? Start helping you guys with cases again? You know, like I used to." Again, there was silence, an even longer pause this time. Finally, he spoke.

"Jane, we don't have the Red John case anymore." His voice was quiet, like he was trying not to spook me, and also didn't want to be overheard. My heart seemed to stop. They didn't have the case anymore? I also dimly realised that Lewis instantly knew my intentions in calling him – knew that the only thing I cared about was the Red John case.

"It was passed on to the California Bureau of Investigation, their homicide unit. They have a pretty high success rate, and it's usually good to let another few sets of eyes take in the case. To get new insights and ideas, you know? Plus, we weren't moving anywhere with it." He said this in a hurried rush of words, and it dawned on me that he probably wasn't supposed to tell anyone this, much less me.

I thought quickly. If the Sac PD had let me work alongside them, surely this Bureau would too? "Listen, Lewis – Could you possibly do me a favor?" I knew he would before he even answered. Lewis was a good cop, great, even, but his sense of loyalty and friendship was much stronger than anything else. He was a very decent guy. He only paused for a second.

"What is it, Jane?" I took a deep breath, praying (for the first time in my life) that he would be able to pull it off. "Could you help me get into the CBI? You know, be a... A consultant, like I was with the Sac PD." I held my breath. There was a long pause. Then, finally-

"Luckily for you, Jane, I have good friends high up in the CBI. I'll see what I can do." I exhaled, smiling slightly. "Thank you so much, Lewis, I owe you big time." The soft reply. "Yes, you do." A click. Lewis was gone.

- BREAK -

I pushed the 'Up' button on the elevator in the CBI's lobby, still reading the sign beside it with confusion. Instead of saying obvious things, like 'Homicide Unit, 4th Floor', it said things like '204, 4th Floor'. I was perplexed, a rare occurence, and could not, for the life of me, figure out what the numbers corresponded to. At this point, I figured 'Up' on the elevator had to take me somewhere close to where I wanted... Hopefully.

"You lost? Those numbers are a pain for visitors – nobody knows where the heck they're going." I turned to see a petite woman with a shiny dark ponytail, downing her last mouthful of coffee from a paper cup. She was carrying a briefcase and a huge stack of papers with surprising ease for such small arms. She was wearing a stern-looking grey suit and had a tired face. Obviously an agent. Of course, the bulge of a gun at the base of her jacket was another major indicator. I smiled slightly at her, nodding absently.

"Oh, I was just planning on riding the elevator until I found the right place," I told her, watching the numbers slowly decrease as the elevator made its way down to the lobby. The woman nodded slowly like she didn't understand, a crease in her forehead, but a supressed smile touched her lips. I couldn't help but notice the way her eyes travelled around my face, and I wondered what that was all about.

"Right... Because that is easier than just asking for help." She raised her eyebrows at me, silently telling me to ask her for directions. But I wasn't giving in that easily. I shook my head.

"Oh, it's fine. I have a good sense of direction, I'll find where I'm going in no time." I briefly flashed a grin at her, and the elevator dinged, opening its doors for us.

The woman rolled her eyes (which I couldn't help but notice were huge, and a unique shade of deep green) and stepped into the elevator beside me. "I'm sure you will." She hit the '7th Floor' button with her elbow, and glanced at me, as though still waiting for me to ask her for help. The doors closed with another ding. I simply looked back at her innocently, and she sighed, impatient with me already.

She's awfully bossy for someone I've just met, I thought to myself, amused. I had liked her almost instantly, for some weird reason – lately I didn't truly like (or trust) anyone, but this stranger had an odd sense of calm that made me warm up to her straight away.

"What department are you looking for?" She asked, tilting her head to the side as she studied me with a startlingly perceptive gaze. "The Homicide Unit," I answered, with a now sober expression. She studied me for a few more seconds, then shuffled her stack of papers to the other arm and extended a tiny hand to me.

"Agent Teresa Lisbon. I lead the CBI Homicide Unit." She smiled slightly at my taken-aback expression. Huh. She's such a... Tiny woman, to be a leader. I could tell from her steely exterior that she was tough, but there was a flicker of a soft side in the depths of her gaze that I had noticed straight away. Good qualities for a boss and a cop, which she was both. I smiled back at her, taking her hand and shaking it. Her fingers were slim and cool, and wrapped perfectly around mine as we shook firmly.

"Well, isn't that a happy coincidence?" I said, pulling my hand away as the elevator doors opened. "Mmm," She hummed, flicking a glance at me curiously as we exited the into the wide space beyond the elevator.

"So what are you here for?" She asked bluntly, getting straight to business. I looked directly into her eyes, showing her my serious intentions. "My name is Patrick Jane, I'm a new consultant who will be assisting you with the Red John case. I am an expert on his patterns and crimes." At the thought of him, as usual, my thoughts turned red and burning. Agent Lisbon must have noticed the change in my demeanor, because her body language suddenly became curious, as though she knew of the murderous thoughts in my mind.

"Oh, you're Patrick Jane. Of course, Minelli told me you'd be coming in sometime this week." She paused, stopping me in my tracks too, and looked at me. I was startled at the intensity of her gaze, but held it nevertheless. Her eyes darkened with something like sympathy, and I knew she must be aware of my past. Although my stint at the mental hospital had been... Somewhat altered on my record, courtesy of Detective Lewis.

Agent Lisbon seemed to realise she was staring at me, and averted her eyes, beginning to walk again, this time taking bigger strides. I noticed her cheeks flushing slightly red, and again, I was confused. She definitely wasn't as easy to read as I'd first thought.

We entered a large, airy room, with a wall of windows boasting an impressive view of Sacramento. There were many desks, a few small plants, and a very impressive looking couch against the wall. Two men sat at opposite desks, chatting across the room. One of them stood as we came in, and I was even more impressed by Agent Lisbon's tiny stature – this agent towered over her by at least two whole heads.

He had a kind, soft demeanor, but it was covered by his tough, bulky exterior. My initial impression was of a Newfoundland dog – seemingly scary and strong, but in reality, a complete softie. The agent had a badly-knotted tie that he kept fiddling with, a sign he was intimidated by his tiny boss.

The second agent was a stocky Asian man with a stony facial expression. He looked up from scribbing something on a post-it note as we entered. This man was obviously a more senior agent to the Newfoundland, because he seemed more at ease with his boss, calm and unintimidated. This cool indifference was partly an act, I could see, but something about him was truly stone-like.

Both the men watched me curiously, but as soon as we were in the room, Agent Lisbon dived in, voice more commanding than before – her 'boss voice', I assumed.

"This is Patrick Jane, our new consultant. He is going to be working with us on the Red John case, since he helped the Sac PD with it last year." The agents nodded at me in acknowledgement. Agent Lisbon turned to me. "This is Agent Rigsby," She pointed at Newfoundland, who raised a hand and smiled. "And this is Agent Cho." The Asian man nodded at me, straight-faced. "We also have another agent joining us in a couple of months, a rookie named Van Pelt." I nodded, taking this new information in.

Agent Lisbon turned to Agent Cho, ignoring me momentarily. "Cho, could you re-check Kasey Brooke's alibi for the St. James case? She still seems sketchy on the details of what she was supposedly doing." He continued to write on the post-it note, nodding. "Thanks. And Rigsby, would you please call the lab, see if they've got any matches yet for the partial prints from the victim?" He picked up the office phone in front of him. "Sure, boss."

Lisbon's eyes flickered to the comfy-looking couch against the wall, and she frowned slightly. "Since when have we had a couch?" She asked the two agents, brow furrowing as she gazed at it. Rigsby spoke up, shrugging slightly. "Agent Holden's team on the 3rd Floor found it on the side of the road, and brought it up, but it didn't fit in any of their offices. We had space to fill, so..." He shrugged again, turning his attention back to the phone.

"Huh," Lisbon said, still staring at the brown leather couch. After a second, she spun around to face me, and, gesturing for me to follow, walked out into the hallway. She held open a door for me reading 'Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon' – her office. She put the stack of paper and the briefcase down gently on her desk, and began to pull filing boxes out from the shelf behind it.

"Red John case..." She muttered under her breath as she dug through the boxes, cracking open each one to double check. Her brunette hair fluttered around, the ponytail swishing gently as she vigorously searched through the boxes. I couldn't help but slightly smile. She was such a sharp, acidic, tiny woman, and I couldn't help but like her.

"Here," She announced, pulling a box out from the very bottom labelled 'RED JOHN CASE' in boxy black letters. My stomach twisted at the sight of it. Lisbon stood, handing me the box, and her eyes, sharp as green glass, softened slightly.

"Do you want to take a coffee break first?" She offered, smiling sympathetically. I paused, looking from the box to Lisbon. Before I did this, I would need some calming down.

"Do you have tea, by any chance?" Lisbon's nose wrinkled in disgust. "I think so, somewhere... Ick." I felt my eyes widen. "You don't like tea?" I asked her, shocked. How could anyone not like tea? It's like a hug in a cup!

She shook her head, leading me out into a small kitchen opposite her office. "No way, too bitter. I have a strong love for strong coffee." She smiled, meeting my gaze. I was surprised to see her pupils slightly dialate. She was attracted to me? Surely not. I broke eye contact, feeling uncomfortable and slightly awkward.

With a slight cough, Lisbon began digging through a cupboard. She extracted two coffee mugs and a battered-looking, ancient box of tea bags. She handed them to me, shrugging.

"Sorry, that's the best I can do." I shook my head at the lack of proper teacups, but I made my tea without complaining. I would have to bring my own favorite blue teacup and saucer, not to mention a decent box of teabags, for tomorrow. Lisbon made her coffee, making a face at my tea, and we stood at the counter in a slightly awkward silence. I smiled at her as I left the room.

I took my tea and the Red John case, and with only a second's hesitation, sat on the brown leather couch. It was just as comfortable as I expected.

Lying back, I propped my head up on the armrest, picking up the first paper from the case. But before I began to read it, a peculiar shaped stain on the ceiling caught my eye. It looked... Like Elvis. Strange. Shaking my head, I began to read, feeling upon me the curious eyes of my new colleagues.

It was going to be an interesting year.

Done! :)

I was hoping to have it longer, but since it was only the 'beginning' of Patrick Jane, it had to end. :(

I couldn't help but add subtle Jane/Lisbon themes in, because I genuinely believe they would have had very strong chemistry, even from the beginning. Lisbon isn't just staring at him because she's curious about his past... Haha.

I hope you enjoyed this, and please review - let me know if you liked it, or if you didn't. I'm open to all feedback! :)

Thanks so much for reading!

- Ashlee-Rose :)