Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist or anything related to it.

A.N. I know, I know, it's late! Blame my boss! I've finally been given part time employment that I'll be able to keep on while I'm at University but my hours have prevented me from writing. Sorry! Enjoy the new chapter!

Chapter Six

Lisbon's weekend did not go as planned. Instead of a nice, relaxing weekend spent in bed catching up with her reading or curled up on the couch in front of the TV, she found herself actively pursuing activities to keep her mind and body active. Between cleaning her apartment and finally unpacking those last few cardboard boxes she successfully managed to keep her mind from wandering onto the conversation between herself and Connor until dinnertime on the Saturday evening. Even then, she was much too tired to really consider the issue.

That night, however, all she did was toss and turn in her bed – as much as she could without hurting herself at any rate. Around a quarter to three in the morning she gave up on sleep, switched on her bedside light and retrieved the file from her bag. It was odd, she mused, that she now considered this, The File. Until a week ago, any file that she considered more noteworthy than any other would have been at least related to the Red John case.

She ignored the vast majority of the photos of the scene of her father's death however she did pull out a picture of multiple medicine bottles scattered over a table. She hadn't seen the scene for long enough to absorb the detail when she was fifteen but it was vaguely reminiscing of the scene she had displayed for Doctor Carmen over a year previously. Retrieving the toxicology report, she placed it beside the photo and ticked off each drug in her mind. The official cause of death was alcohol poisoning mixed with a drug overdose. The level of alcohol in his blood was enough to kill an elephant, let alone a mere human being.

This was what Detective Sullivan had highlighted in the file and she could immediately see why. There was no way that her father could have ingested the concentration of alcohol in his blood from the whiskey alone. From any amount of alcoholic drinks, in fact. He'd have passed out or thrown up long before he would have consumed the amount required.

He would have had to drink something like pure ethanol, or had it injected into him. The coroner hadn't found any puncture marks, but then, he hadn't been looking for them. And she knew there was no pure ethanol in the house.

She couldn't blame the coroner, or any other officer who had ruled the death as a suicide. She had assumed the same thing for years. She had thought- almost hoped- that her father had killed himself in his grief or guilt for what he had done to her and her brothers. Michael, in particular. Two evenings before her father's death she had come home late from track practice. The scene she had found that day haunted her far more than the one she had found a few days later.

He had been drunk. Again. Normally the boys would lock themselves in their room. But Tommy, being only seven years old at the time, had gone out to 'rescue' a toy, and had ended up being rescued himself by Michael.

By the time they had gotten him to the hospital, the ruptured spleen had nearly killed him.

Arthur Lisbon honestly hadn't believed it had been he who had so severely injured his son. But the look of fear he found in the eyes of his children, and his ripped knuckles told him a truth that he couldn't remember.

Teresa loved her father, she really did. But she was still able to sleep at night, believing her father had killed himself because of the guilt he carried. But the thought that someone had murdered him...

That wasn't something she was able to live with.

Her mind was made up. First thing on Monday morning, Hightower would be back in charge. She would drop the file on her desk and let her decide who investigated it. She wouldn't let it become her obsession. She didn't need that.

But so help the poor sod who she didn't think was doing enough to find out who killed her father.

It was ten o'clock when she was called into Hightower's office- two hours after she had given her the file to review. It was odd, having Hightower as her boss again. Their relationship had traversed into the 'true friend' category and Lisbon wasn't sure how she felt about that. Sure, Minelli had basically been a father to her and their working relationship hadn't suffered for it. But Minelli never had to deal with a matter like that of her father's death.

"Hey, Lisbon," Hightower waved her into the office. Photos were placed haphazardly on the desk but everything else remained in the cardboard boxes placed at the side of the desk. Lisbon sat opposite Hightower and struggled not to fidget as she waited for Hightower to find the file again. She had no reason to be so nervous and it wasn't doing much for the image of impassivity she was trying to maintain. "I read the file and spoke to Detective Connor earlier. It seems like it's definitely worth following up."

Lisbon was instantly relieved. Just to hear the confirmation that something would be done about it was enough. At least, it was until the file was handed back to her.

"Every team apart from yours has a case at the moment. I realised cold cases aren't really up the SCU's street, but I can't just drag another team away from what they're doing when your team's free. And I realise that there's going to be some travel expenses- take whatever you need. I'll make sure you're reimbursed."

"But-" Lisbon tried to protest, but wasn't sure if she wanted to, or even what she should say. "But, I can't investigate this. Or be lead agent on it. The victim is family. No judge would-"

Hightower cut her off. "You're not supposed to be investigating anything, Agent Lisbon. You think I haven't spoken to your doctor? You're not even supposed to be here!" She paused and a small smile began to grow across her face. "But I don't think your team would object to a little guidance here and there, do you? Especially since you're a man down until Agent Van Pelt returns. After they've questioned you, that is."

Lisbon nearly flinched at that. Of course they would have to question her. She was the first person to come upon the scene, therefore making her the prime suspect. Not only that, but she certainly had motive, at the time at least.

"Of course, Ma'am."

She was almost out the door when Hightower stopped her. "Teresa?"

She turned, "Yes?"

Gone was the 'Woman in Command' facade. In its place was the look of a concerned friend. "Are you going to be okay with this?"

Not 'Are you okay'. That would have just been stupid. Of course she wasn't okay. She'd just learned that her father had been murdered!

"Yeah," Teresa replied, after a moment. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

In the bullpen, the mood was tense. Lisbon hadn't said anything to them but they knew something was wrong. Rigsby hypothesised and Cho remained silent whilst he considered each one, rarely shooting them down. After all, they were valid worries.

"Maybe something's wrong with Grace. You think she's not going to come back?" Rigsby asked.

Cho just shrugged. It was possible, after all. His bet was on Rigsby's next theory, however.

"The Boss could be worried about Jane. His pre-trial's this week."

Cho heard the door of Hightower's office open then close and the heard the footsteps that denoted someone coming towards them. "Guess we're about to find out," he murmured, just as Lisbon came into view.

She stopped in front of Cho's desk and dropped the file she was carrying on it. "You guys have a new case." There was something about her expression that Cho couldn't decipher. Slowly, he turned the file around and made to open it. He heard Rigsby shift and saw his shadow as he leaned over Cho's shoulder.

Cho opened the file. He stared for a moment at the picture on the first page. Then he looked back up, questioningly, at Lisbon.

"I'll be in interrogation when you're ready for me," she said as way of reply, before striding back down the hallway, head held high.

"Shit," Rigsby breathed softly. Cho concurred.

They let him watch a little TV when the rest of the inmates were in their cells, safely locked away. Not that there was much on of interest. Mainly it was crime drama's that were nothing like real life, or shows about teenage college student's that he couldn't follow. He didn't find them that interesting anyway. It was just a list of who was sleeping with who, after all. So he flicked the channel onto the news. It was always a good idea to keep up with current events anyway. He wouldn't be kept in solitary confinement indefinitely- that much he knew. It might be a good plan to find out who his future cell mates might be.

No new development's on any of the open cases, he lamented. The CBI just wasn't doing quite as well without him around to keep them all in line. He was drawn from his smug beliefs when he could have sworn he heard a name he recognised. Grabbing the TV remote, he turned the volume up until he could hear clearly.

"...recently come to light that Mr Lisbon may have been murdered. This is the first time any information about this Cold Case has been produced in over twenty years. One may question the wisdom, however, of the Senior Crimes Unit director, Madeleine Hightower, at handing this case to the SCU, which is lead by the victim's only daughter, Agent Teresa Lisbon. This comes only a week after CBI's consultant, Patrick Jane, murdered Vincent Pride once he was confirmed to be Red John, the serial killer responsible for the death of Mr Jane's family. In other news..."

Jane flicked the television off. It didn't make sense. What new information? As far as he knew, Lisbon's father had killed himself when she was a teenager. And now they were saying he might have been murdered?

Poor Lisbon. She'd be questioned, of course. Though he knew she didn't do it. She had basically admitted as much to him several months ago. One of her brother's perhaps? They had motive, he knew that much. It would destroy her, he knew, if she had to arrest one of her brothers. They're relationship was tenuous enough as it was.

As he was led back to his cell, he lamented his situation for the first time since he had done the deed, so to speak. He wanted to know Lisbon was okay. That she wouldn't turn this into her personal torment, that she wouldn't turn out like him.

Was she even supposed to be working? He had seen the picture of her on the television, her arm still in a sling. She looked tired, but that was understandable. It had only been a week but he was sure she had lost weight. Or maybe that was just the camera.

He had been sleeping well since he was confined in his cell, all traces of the insomnia that had plagued him for years, gone. But tonight it returned as he fretted, tossing and turning. He made his decision around two o'clock in the morning. He would call his Justin Nolan, change his plea and hope, beyond hope, that he could turn this novice of a lawyer into a winning defence attorney before his trial.

He had promised to be there for Lisbon whenever she needed him, whether she liked it or not. Now was one of those times.

A.N.You can tell I haven't studied Chemistry in years and have a very basic understanding of it, can't you. My understanding of it is if you drink too much 'pure' ethanol it will affect you nervous system and then your respiratory organs, causing death. If I'm wrong, let me know.

I'll try and update soon, but it depends on work.

~Sweetdeath04