Friday 17th July 1998:
Lisbon sat herself down at the bar and ordered a beer.
Unlike all the other trainees who had flooded into a larger, cheaper bar on the main street, she had decided to spend her Friday evening at a smaller place, tucked away down a side road. She was six weeks into her time at the police academy now, and whilst she knew she was pursuing the right career, she was starting to actively look for moments where she could spend time alone. The energy and machismo of her mostly male cohort was starting to wear her down, and the idea of starting her weekend with drinking games and posturing didn't sound appealing.
Even better, she noticed that the barman had the Cubs game on in the background. She could relax against the backdrop of quiet bar chit chat and watch the baseball.
"Chicago girl huh?", a voice came over her shoulder.
She spun around to see that a blonde man in a suit had taken a seat at the opposite end of the bar.
"What makes you say that?", she asked suspiciously.
"Your face lit up when they hit a home run there. Someone likes a team that much; they must've grown up there".
She studied him closely. He was about her age, perhaps a couple of years older. The suit he was wearing was expensive and tailored, but he didn't look like he worked a city job. Maybe it was the sparkle in his eyes but there was something about him that made her a little wary of him.
"Good guess", she replied, turning her attention back to the TV.
"You didn't fancy joining your friends across the road?", he asked her.
She turned back to look at him again. He'd managed to read her correctly again. She wasn't dressed in anything that would identify that she was from the police academy, but he'd managed to work that out anyway.
"No", she replied nonchalantly, "I just came here for some quiet and to watch the game".
She watched a flicker of disappointment flash across his face, but then he regained his composure and smiled politely.
"I'd hate to interrupt", he apologised. Pointing his beer up to the TV screen to indicate that she should continue watching.
She swivelled herself back away from him, but found that once she was watching the game, she wasn't all that interested in it. She wanted to press him on how he knew she was at the police academy. She snuck a glance back over her shoulder but saw the bar stool he was on was now empty. She was almost frustrated by his politeness.
She stared back at the baseball grumpily, noticing that the Cubs had gone two runs down whilst she had been distracted. She sighed loudly and took a large swig of her drink.
xXx
She'd nursed her beer through the previous couple of innings, but as the Cardinals hit another home run, she decided it was time to head out. Just as she grabbed her jacket, another drink was slid across the bar towards her. The smell made her recoil, she hadn't drunk rum since her first year of college after one particularly big night that had ended with her feeling very worse for wear the next day.
She pushed it back to the barman. "I don't want that", she told him.
"The guy back there ordered it for you, take it up with him".
She turned around, expecting to see her blonde friend from the earlier, but was instead met by a man at least ten years her senior and twice her size. She shuddered. She hated dealing with men like this.
"I'm going home. I didn't want another drink", she told him.
"You're not even going to say thank you?", he challenged her. He took a step towards her, but she firmly held her ground.
"She said she didn't want it", another voice stepped in.
She looked over to see that the man from earlier was getting involved.
The older man turned around. "What's it to you?"
"I just don't like to see cowardly men pressuring young women. You should go home. I'm sure your mom is expecting you".
Suddenly, the older man lurched forward, throwing a hard punch into the blonde man's face. Lisbon couldn't react quickly enough to stop him, instead having to pull him back. She sent her elbow into his solar plexus, effectively winding him and sending him reeling back towards the bar.
She looked over to the blonde man now clutching his nose.
"Come on, let's go", she barked.
He followed her out and the pair walked silently for a couple of blocks before Lisbon decided they weren't likely to encounter anyone from the bar again.
"Sit down on the wall", she instructed, "I want to check your nose isn't broken".
He followed her instructions, then let go of his bloody nose and looked up at her. He looked helpless in this position, his light blue eyes gazing up at her imploringly. Despite the bruising already forming and the small rivulets of blood running down his face, she couldn't help but notice how attractive he was.
She tenderly put her hand on his face, gently tapping down the bridge of his nose. He winced dramatically a couple of times, but she could see clearly that all the damage was just superficial.
"It doesn't look great, but I don't think he's done any lasting damage", she told him. "Some painkillers and some ice and you'll be right as rain".
He huffed.
"It doesn't feel great", he commented morosely.
"Maybe it will teach you not to go straight for the jugular next time", she replied half-sarcastically.
"The man was a scumbag", he replied seriously. "He was always going to become violent. I got us out of there quickly and before he could hurt you".
"I can handle myself. I don't need your chivalry", she told him.
"I know", he answered sincerely, "but you're more than welcome to it anyway".
She stepped out from in front of him and sat down next to him on the wall. She couldn't work this guy out. He was an equal mix of arrogance and humility, forwardness and politeness. She hadn't met anyone like him before.
After a moment of comfortable silence, she asked "how did you know I'm at the police academy".
He smiled. "That wasn't what I was expecting you to ask".
"What were you expecting", she questioned.
"What my name was?".
"Huh", she commented lamely. It hadn't even crossed her mind that she didn't have a name to put against the man she'd spent the past half hour with.
"It's Patrick, by the way", he informed her.
"Teresa", she returned. "You've avoided my question though. How did you know?".
"Would you believe me if I said I was psychic?", he asked.
She laughed loudly.
"Is that really such a comical idea to you?", he questioned.
"No, it's just that if you were a psychic, you should've known that punch was coming".
He laughed with her, then winced again as he felt the pain from his nose.
"It was another good guess", he informed her nonchalantly.
She stared at him critically. The fact he couldn't give her a solid answer had prompted the wariness from earlier to return. She realised now that she was on alone with a stranger who knew too much about her, hidden away on a secluded side street.
"I should go", she told him.
He sensed her growing nervousness and a concerned expression wrinkled across his face.
"Hey look. I've been in town for this weekend every year for the past few years. I've stayed at the same hotel down the road from the police academy. You're about the right age, you sit with the right posture, and from the way you spoke to me, I can see that you're bored of the machismo energy and unwanted male attention. It just takes the magic out of it when I lay it all out like that".
"You'd make a good detective", she commented.
He shrugged. "Maybe in another life".
"Given you know so much about me, tell me what you do for work?", she questioned.
"You know, most women like a man of mystery", he told her with a smile.
"You really don't like answering questions, do you?", she replied, not missing a beat.
"You're going to make a good interrogator", he answered, his smile growing further.
"Don't distract me with compliments", she told him, although she was struggling to contain her own smile.
"Okay officer", he conceded, "remember when I asked if you'd believe that I was a psychic?".
She nodded, a little confused as to where this was going.
"Well, that's what I do for work", he told her sheepishly.
She turned to face him, fixing him with a stern expression
"But there's no such thing as psychics", she told him bluntly.
"Not everyone shares that point of view", he replied carefully.
"So, you're a conman?", she questioned.
"I've heard it described more kindly than that before", he answered with a resigned huff.
"You lie to people and take their money", she continued intensely.
"Has anything I've guessed about you been wrong so far", he challenged. "None of it has been a lie".
She blinked.
"I can tell you more too", he continued. "You lost a parent when you were young, alcoholism runs in the family and it's why you only have one drink when you go out, you raised younger siblings, you're catholic, but you rarely go to church, you're joining the police because you like rules and you think it will help you protect people in a way that you couldn't when you were young"
"What is wrong with you?", she spat out at him. She was done with this conversation now and began to march away from him.
He ran to catch up with her and walked by her side in silence.
"I'm sorry, that was out of line. I've not had anyone challenge me in a long time and I reacted badly", he told her sincerely.
She snorted at him.
"Please", he murmured.
"You don't know me", she told him. "Why do you care about my approval?".
"Because it doesn't take a psychic to see that you're a good person".
She stopped walking suddenly. He was making her head hurt. Attacking then complimenting, intrusive then respectful.
She glared at him and began to feel less angry. It was hard to summon any sort of serious negative feeling towards someone who looked as much of a mess as he did. With the dried blood on his face and shirt, she could help but feel pity towards him.
"Just don't talk to me like that again. Don't assume you know things about me or understand me", she told him.
She saw something switch in mind and he immediately became brighter.
"You're suggesting that we're going to talk again?" he questioned gently with a tentative smile.
Her mouth began to form around some words, but nothing came out. She hadn't realised the implications of what she'd said. Perhaps her subconscious did want to see him again.
"Are you free tomorrow afternoon?", he asked her. "I'll make it up to you".
She sighed, a little resigned.
"Yes, I'm free tomorrow. Where would you like to meet".
"Buena Vista Park, at 2pm. I'll bring a picnic", he told her excitedly.
His smile was infectious, spreading to her too.
She nodded him a goodbye and turned to leave.
"Goodnight Teresa!", she heard him holler from down the street.
She groaned gently. What had she gotten herself in for?