'Till Death Do We Part

A/N: Be happy, this one's longer. Finally, our protagonists meet. The story's probably going to be shorter than I anticipated, but I'll see if I can't draw it out for you. Cheers!

Chapter 7: When Worlds Collide

Lisbon did not want to go to work that day. She'd rather she was anywhere else.

Of course though, Jane had to ask.

"How was your date?" he asked playfully when she came in the next morning.

Cho and Rigsby looked up. "You had a date?" Cho asked, eyes narrowing.

Lisbon glared in Jane's direction. "Thanks," she hissed.

"You didn't answer my question."

Lisbon's glare intensified. "Not now, Jane. I don't have time for this."

"Sure you do," Jane said, following her into her office and sitting on her desk. "Why not?"

"Go away," Lisbon snapped. "I'm not in the mood."

"Was it that bad?"

"Go away!" Lisbon snarled, turning in his direction. He blinked, as if he didn't believe she had actually done that.

"But-"

"Now, Jane!" she snapped.

He hesitated, then left. Van Pelt appeared behind him, watching as he left. She turned to Lisbon. "We've got a call," she said.

Lisbon ran a hand over her face. "Okay. Let's go check it out."

"Looks like the place," Don said, turning into the parking lot of a building with a sign in front that read, "Mac's Art – Portraits, Photography, and Painting".

Megan nodded as the two climbed out of the SUV, heading for the front door. The sign on the door said it was closed, but when Don tried the handle, it opened smoothly, without a sound. He raised an eyebrow and exchanged a look with Megan, who shrugged, but pulled her gun out. Don mirrored the move, and they stepped inside.

It was dark in the main room, but Megan could faintly make out two doors at the back of the room behind a counter with a register on top. One of the doors was labeled "EXIT", and the other "STUDIO – WORK IN PROGRESS, DO NOT ENTER".

They checked the main room before moving on to the studio door. On Don's count, Megan pushed the door open and they quickly cleared the room.

Lowering her gun, Megan looked around. The studio was a mess, with papers scattered around the floor, pens and pencils dotting the carpet. There was a large desk against the back wall with a work lamp and a pencil basket on top. The majority of the walls were dominated by hundreds of drawings and paintings, some in color, others black and white. Megan spotted one of a bouquet of roses. Mac Brownfield was actually a pretty good artist.

Don spoke from behind her. "Megan, take a look at this."

She crossed the room to see what he was looking at: a drawing of a woman with only a towel keeping the rating from jumping to R (A/N: If you know what I mean...). She held a TV remote in one hand, trying to juggle the towel and a phone with the other.

Megan exchanged a glance with Don. The picture was drawn as if looking from through a window into what was probably an apartment.

"There's more," Don said, gesturing to pretty much the entire wall, which was covered in drawings of the woman. There were even a couple photographs hanging on the wall.

Megan bent to pick up one that had fallen to the floor. "Don," she said quietly.

He turned to look, then his eyes widened. "Damn," he whispered.

The picture was of the same woman, entering a federal building: CBI, California Bureau of Investigation. Only this time, she was looking in the direction that the photo had been taken, suspicion crossing her face, and the quality of the picture was much worse, as if it had been taken in a hurry.

"She knew he was there," Don said.

Megan nodded. "This isn't some random model. He's stalking her."

"What makes you say that?" Don asked.

"Look at the photos," Megan said, gesturing around. "They're all taken from a distance, and she's never in a pose. Not to mention that some of these are really bad."

"Like he took them quickly," Don said, realization coming across his face. "And he didn't want to get caught."

Megan nodded. "Not to mention the sheer number, along with the fact that he keeps them all on this one wall."

"It backs up the girlfriend's story, too," Don added.

Megan nodded. "This is definitely stalking, no question about it."

"We have to find this woman," Don said, looking at the photos again. "And I know where to start."

"Mr. Minelli?"

Minelli's head snapped up. In front of him was his secretary, a pretty, young blonde.

"Yes, Daisy?" he asked.

Daisy smiled. "There are two FBI agents out here who want to see you."

Minelli frowned. FBI? Why did the FBI want to talk to him?

Nevertheless, he said, "Show them in, Daisy." The blonde nodded and disappeared.

A moment later, two people, a man and a woman, entered his office. The man had short, cropped black hair. The woman's was long and a mix of red and brown.

"You're in charge here?" asked the man, pulling off a pair of sunglasses and putting them away.

"Yes," Minelli said, frowning. He got to his feet. "How can I help the FBI?"

"I'm Special Agent Don Eppes, this is Special Agent Megan Reeves," the man said. "We're here about a potential stalking case, and we think one of your people may be involved."

Minelli's eyes widened. "None of my people are involved in anything like that."

"We know," Eppes said. "But we found a picture of a woman entering this building, and we want to know if you recognize her." He pulled out a photo and put it on the desk.

Minelli's eyes widened. "That... That's Lisbon!"

"You know her then?" Reeves asked.

Minelli nodded. "Yes. Special Agent Teresa Lisbon. But I can't imagine that she'd be mixed up with this."

"Can we speak to her?" Eppes asked.

"Of course. Her office is right over there." He pointed to the spot. "Her team was out on a call, but they just got back, so she should be in there."

Eppes stood. "Thank you," he said.

Minelli nodded. "Of course." He shook hands with both agents, and sank shakily into his seat once they left. Lisbon?

Daisy poked her head past the door. "Can I get you anything Mr. Minelli?" she asked politely.

"No Daisy, that's all right. I'll just step outside for a minute." He sighed, remembering everything he'd done to stop smoking. He'd even gone as far as to ask Jane for help. "I need a cigarette."

Once Daisy had gone, Minelli muttered to himself, "I'm getting too old for this."

When someone knocked on her door, Lisbon's first response was, of course, "Go away Jane."

Whoever it was cleared their throat, and Lisbon looked up to see that it definitely wasn't Jane. Instead there was a man standing at the door, a woman behind him.

"I'm so sorry," she said, standing up. "I thought you were someone else."

The man smiled. "It's alright. Don't worry about it."

Lisbon smiled back. "Come in."

The two walked in and took a seat while Lisbon sat back down.

"You're Teresa Lisbon?" asked the woman.

Lisbon nodded, frowning. "Can I help you?"

"Special Agent Don Eppes, FBI," said the man. "This is my partner, Special Agent Megan Reeves. We were here investigating a homicide in Los Angeles, and we came here to find the brother of the victim."

Lisbon's frown deepened. "What does this have to do with me?" she asked.

"Do you recognize this man?" Eppes asked, handing her a photo. In it was a young man, mid-twenties, with messy sun bleached hair and dark eyes.

Lisbon shook her head. "Never seen him before."

"His name's Jeremy Brownfield," Eppes said.

Lisbon's eyes widened. Brownfield?! She shrugged it off. It couldn't be that uncommon of a name. But still, it was nearly impossible for it to be a coincidence.

She could feel their eyes on her, studying her reaction, and she forced herself to look up from the photo, staying calm. "I'm sorry," she said. "But I can't help you."

"You know we don't believe that," Eppes said, staring at her hard. "You may not know Jeremy Brownfield, but I'd be willing to bet you know his brother Mac."

Let them help! screeched a voice in the back of her mind.

And let the team know what's going on? she thought cynically. Not a chance.

"Agent Lisbon," Reeves said, sitting forward. "If he's stalking you, we can do something about it. He's done this to other women." She paused. "We can help you."

Lisbon shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do," Eppes said, fixing her with a glare.

Lisbon glared right back, and for a moment she held his gaze, but then she dropped her eyes to her desk.

"I can't do this anymore," Lisbon whispered.

"Is he stalking you?" Reeves asked.

Lisbon held her head in her hands and whispered, "Yes." She looked up to see Eppes and Reeves exchange a glance, and then Reeves spoke.

"Listen," she said. "We can get you protection. We can put an agent on your residence- "

"Oh, like that's gonna do a lot of good," Lisbon spat. "He lives next door!"

Reeves and Eppes looked surprised, and for a moment it was silent.

"We can help you," Reeves said finally, echoing her earlier words.

Lisbon looked back down. Give it up, hissed a voice in the back of her mind. Don't be an idiot. They can help you!

I can take care of myself, she thought.

Finally, she looked up. "I appreciate the thought," she said. "But I can take care of myself. If I believed I needed help, I would have done something."

The two agents stared at her for a moment, then Eppes nodded.

"Okay," he said, standing. "Have it your way. Whatever you say."

Lisbon watched them leave, and then she let her head fall into her hands again.

A/N: Poor Lisbon. :)

On another note, completely unrelated to the story, a few of you might have heard, but most of you probably haven't. I recently started a LiveJournal community for the Mentalist Awards, which will be giving awards out to the best stories in Mentalist fanfiction. Nominations have been going on for a while, but Het nominations are closed, and we're only accepting three more Gen nominations. Please nominate and spread the word! Nominations will not be accepted after June 29, so please help! And spread the word as much as possible!

Anyway, review, nominate, and spread the word!

Off to take over the world,

Crazy Girl