A/N: Oh wow, I definitely did not expect all of that feedback for the Prologue. Thank you! Here's Chapter 1! If you feel lost, don't worry, it's going to be a bit confusing for the first couple of chapters. Most likely I'll be alternating POVs between Jane and Lisbon. Let's just hope everything works out according to plan (fat chance, but a girl can dream). Any questions, theories or comments, send them my way! All you have to do is press that green button at the bottom of the page. Thanks to Yana, Smudje, Cat, Tracie, MentalistLover, BFangz, Mrs Speer, Amber, Div, Lynne, Shelly, Geilie, Isabella, anthropologist, TeresaJane, Kathiann and bluedragon1836 for reviewing. Special thanks to Lysh for being my second set of eyes and Cat for giving me such a fun plotline to play with. Enjoy!
Warnings: Still nothing. But it's coming...
Disclaimers: Still nothing as well, as in I still own nothing.
Chapter 1: Last Night
"C'mon, Lisbon, pull yourself together."
Even though she could only attempt to splutter a retort, she still managed to aim a threatening glare at her dinner companion. He merely chuckled at her from across the table as she struggled to recover from nearly choking to death on her drink. She felt the heat creeping up her neck and flooding her cheeks. Her only consolation was the fact they were seated close to the back corner of the diner, away from the prying eyes of the other patrons. Looking rather apologetic, he offered her a handful of napkins which she grabbed appreciatively.
"You know," he said with a wide grin, "aside from the fact that you nearly hacked up a lung, it's really good to see you laugh."
Clearing her throat one last time, she raised her gaze at him, noting the soft expression in his blue eyes. He started to reach across the table when she instinctively pulled her hand away from his to a grab a fry.
"These chili fries are amazing," she mumbled.
He made no mention of the awkwardness that had passed. Instead, he carefully retracted his arm.
"Have I ever steered you wrong?"
She raised a brow, her lips quirking into a smirk.
"Someone is conveniently forgetting about the hiking fiasco of '06…"
"Don't you dare," he interrupted. "I thought we made a deal never to bring that up in public. Ever."
The sheer panic on his face was almost enough to cause her to break down into another fit of giggles.
"What deal?" she questioned innocently.
Before she knew what was happening, he had swiped a fry off her plate, chucking it directly at her. The potato projectile bounced off the tip of her nose as she stared at him in stunned disbelief.
"Bull's-eye," he exclaimed.
She narrowed her eyes, throwing her own fry at him. He let out an undignified yelp as the pair launched into an all-out food fight…
"Boss?"
Immediately, she was drawn back to reality, noticing Cho was standing in her open doorway.
"Yeah?"
"You've got a call. Line two."
He didn't elaborate, not that she needed him to.
"Thanks," she replied curtly.
Cho hesitated briefly as though he had wanted to say something more. She waited for him to continue and was relieved when he simply nodded his head. When he was gone, she took a cleansing breath and lifted the phone to her ear.
"Lisbon," she answered.
"Hey, Treat."
She smiled at the sound of the familiar voice on the other end.
"You know I hate that nickname."
There was a lengthy pause. She heard him expel a heavy sigh before he spoke again.
"What happened?"
The smile on her face instantly withered from her lips. She managed to calmly relay the CliffsNotes version of the past six hours.
The morning had started with a flood of phone calls, multiple gunshots being fired at a small apartment complex outside of the city. SWAT, SPD, CSU, all flooded the scene, only to find no suspect and no gun. Instead, they found a small tape deck. Volume cranked to the max, playing a looped recording of a mafia shootout fit for Hollywood. Yet even without any evidence of a weapon, there were two bodies. Victim number one appeared to have been strangled, stabbed multiple times with a blunt object. Victim two bled out from a blow to the back of the head.
She stopped, convincing herself that she was allowing him a moment to digest the situation. But the truth was, she couldn't continue. Thankfully, he filled the silence.
"And you're sure it's him?"
Her throat felt dry. Her free hand involuntarily began twirling the phone cord tighter around her fingers.
"It's Hunt."
It was by sheer will that she was able to just say his name.
"I'm sorry," she added softly.
"Yeah, me too."
He sighed again, the conversation slipping into a lull.
"When the coroner's done, I'll make arrangements for the… his body."
"Okay."
"Okay."
"If you need anything…"
"I know."
Another uncomfortable pause. Mercifully, it was much shorter than the first.
"I'll, uh, talk with Hunt's folks in the morning."
Numbly, she nodded her head, knowing full well he couldn't see her. She felt selfishly grateful she didn't have to be the messenger this time. She wouldn't have to see the look of anguish on Don and Marianne Letko's faces when they receive the news that their only son had been murdered.
"Give them my condolences."
He grunted in response as an unfamiliar voice mumbled something incoherently in the background.
"Sorry," he apologized.
"Don't be," she insisted. "I should let you go."
"Keep me posted?"
"Will do."
"Oh, T? Nail this son of a bitch."
Neither of them said goodbye. The second she hung up, she felt a nagging twinge in the pit of her stomach. She knew there was no point wasting time feeling sad or guilty. Getting up from her chair, she strolled into the bullpen to rejoin her team.
"What have we got on the victims?" she demanded, composure intact.
They had all gathered around Van Pelt's computer. Rigsby was perched at the edge of her desk, Cho stood beside him. The trio exchanged glances before the red-headed agent handed Lisbon a folder.
"Dr. Franklin Greene, thirty one, linguistics professor at the Donovan Institute," Rigsby explained. "Apartment was his. Neighbors said he was a stand-up guy. Started a late night watch program to combat a recent string of thefts in the building."
"Could have been a robbery gone wrong," Van Pelt suggested.
Lisbon vehemently shook her head.
"There was rage in Greene's murder. Premeditated."
She quickly leafed through the print-outs. She stopped at a particular photo. A handsome face stared up at her. Dark hair, steel-blue eyes, a warm and inviting smile.
"The second victim…" Van Pelt trailed off.
She looked over to Rigsby uncomfortably while he offered her a small grin of support.
"Special Agent Hunter Letko," Lisbon filled in solemnly. "F.B.I."
The air prickled with tension, no one dared to add anything else. Calmly flipping through the rest of the dossier in complete silence, Lisbon then handed the folder back to Rigsby.
"Cho, Rigsby, talk with Greene's colleagues and students. I'm sure somebody knows something. Van Pelt, find out everything you can about our good professor. Ex-wives, lovers, maybe we'll get lucky."
After assigning their tasks, she cast a glance across the room at the empty leather couch by the window. She frowned. It suddenly dawned on her that it had been way too quiet.
"Where the hell is Jane?"
TBC...
Chapter 2 Preview
"Please, call me, Lexi."
"Lexi, what a lovely name."
"Thank you," she replied with a flirtatious giggle.
He fought the instinctive urge to run. She even laughed the same way his wife did.