Chapter 1: Claiming What's His
The Austin FBI field office lobby smelled like industrial cleaner and stale coffee. Teresa Lisbon paced near the security desk, the click of her low heels sharp against the polished concrete floor. Her reflection in the enormous glass doors leading deeper into the building showed a woman holding herself too tightly, shoulders rigid beneath her blazer. Ten minutes late.
The rather ambivalent looking security guard was scrolling through his list of expected visitors at a glacial pace, his thick finger hovering over each name, his expression suggesting profound boredom. Lisbon clenched her jaw. Hurry up. Every second stretched taut. She glanced at the glass doors again, half-expecting, half-dreading.
“What did you say your name was?” The security guard asked for the hundredth time. Teresa took a moment to centre herself. “Lisbon,” she said very slowly, “Teresa Lisbon. Look, is there any way we can speed this up? You already have all my ID.” There was an edge to her voice, but the guard remained oblivious. “Nope… Gotta find the name.” Teresa closed her eyes and inhaled slowly through her nose. She could see the pile of visitor passes within arms reach. She was pretty sure she could grab one and make a run for it. There was no way the portly guard would catch her. Of course, there was a long line of agents behind her that likely could. She crossed her arms and rested them on the top of the desk to stop herself from doing anything stupid. If Jane had dragged her down here for some ridiculous con she was going to kill him. Very slowly. The thought caused her to smirk to herself. “I’m sorry about James” the voice behind her startled her and she spun to face it, “excuse me?”
A tall dark handsome man in a suit that screamed agent was smiling down at her. “James” he said motioning toward the guard. “He’s a stickler for the rules.” Teresa lowered her voice conspiratorially, “is there anything we can do to speed him up.” The agent shrugged, “not that I have found. I’ve tried doughnuts, coffee, nothing helps.” As if on cue she heard her name come from the man behind the desk. “Teresa Lisbon?”. “Yes, that’s me.” She replied. “You are meeting with agent Abbott.” “Which it says on every document I have given you.” Irritation started to creep back into her voice. “Agent Abbot’s office is on the third floor. You will have to wait for an escort.” Teresa dropped her forehead down to where her arms were crossed over the desk. She was just about to lose it when the man behind her stepped up to the desk, “Hi James” he said cheerfully. “Agent Pike.” Came the reply. “Why don’t I walk Ms. Lisbon up stairs for her meeting.” Lisbon raised her head and glanced at the man she now knew as Agent Pike and then looked back to the man apparently determined to keep her waiting all morning. James stared at Agent Pike hard for a few moments before begrudgingly nodding. “I suppose that would be okay.”
The lobby air went thick as motor oil. Pike’s hand landed on her forearm, fingers curling possessively. "Come on, Teresa. Third floor’s this way." His touch, meant to guide, felt like a claim. Lisbon bristled, subtle but unmistakable. She didn't pull away immediately, the ingrained politeness warring with the violation simmering under her skin.
Before she could shrug him off, the elevator doors hissed open and she had an excuse to step away as they both turned to face forward. “So, Teresa Lisbon,” Pike’s smooth voice filled the small space. She regarded him for a moment. Finally, she sighed, “I honestly have no idea.” “Really?” Pike asked in surprise and Teresa shrugged. She supposed it wasn’t every day someone showed up at FBI headquarters and had no idea why. “Huh.” Agent Pike shook his head. He was about to ask more when the elevator slid to a stop and the doors opened revealing Cho. Teresa gave him a wide smile and held out her hand. “Cho!” She exclaimed in happy surprise. Cho came as close to smiling as he ever did. “Hey Boss.” He said shaking her hand warmly. “I’m not your boss anymore” she shot back fondly. “I’ve got it from here.” The stocky Korean man nodded toward the person at her back. Pike hesitated a moment before he put a hand on her shoulder. “Of course.” He smiled at her. “It was great to meet you Teresa Lisbon. Hope I see you around.” Teresa shot him a quick smile, “ Thank you Agent Pike.” And she quickly stepped out from under his hand to follow Cho.
“So, FBI, huh?” She said with a small amount of pride in her voice as Cho led her through a maze of offices towards a meeting room surrounded in glass walls. “Yep. 2 years.” He answered in typical Cho fashion. He opened the meeting room door and motioned to Teresa to take a seat. “Why am I here, Cho?” She asked as she settled into the chair closest to the door. “Agent Abbott will explain everything in a moment.” Cho replied turning to leave. Teresa felt a moment of panic. It had been so long since she had heard anything from Cho, she had hoped to catch up. “Cho,” she called and the agent stopped halfway out the door to look at her. “Will I get the chance to see you again before I go?” Agent Cho nodded curtly. “I will find you before you leave.” For the first time in two years Teresa found a genuine smile on her face.
The meeting room air tasted recycled and cold. Lisbon’s smile, genuine for the first time in ages, faded as Cho disappeared down the corridor. Silence rushed in, thick and expectant. She traced a finger over the cool glass tabletop, the fluorescent lights overhead buzzing like trapped insects. Two years. What could Abbott possibly want that involved her, now? Her mind flickered to Pike’s lingering touch, the easy assumption in his eyes, and a faint sense of dread coiled in her stomach.Beyond the transparent walls, the hum of the office was a low thrum – keyboards clicking, muffled voices, the occasional sharp ring of a phone. Normalcy. Yet here she sat, feeling anything but normal. She straightened her blazer, a familiar armour.
Down the long corridor, a different kind of tension walked. Patrick Jane, flanked by Agent Dennis Abbott, moved with deceptive ease. Abbott’s stride was purposeful, the stride of a man used to command. Jane’s was lighter, almost buoyant, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his impeccably tailored, slightly-too-light-for-the-office linen trousers. Two years of tropical sun had bleached his hair almost platinum, his skin a deep, healthy gold that made his blue eyes startlingly bright against the sterile, muted greys and blues of the FBI bullpen. He scanned the environment with detached curiosity, like a tourist visiting an exotic, slightly boring zoo.
Then his gaze snagged.
Through the glass wall of the meeting room, Teresa Lisbon sat. Alone. Her profile was sharp against the harsh light, the determined line of her jaw, the dark sweep of her hair tucked neatly behind one ear. She was staring down at the table, lost in thought, but even in stillness, she radiated an intensity, a gravity Jane had spent years orbiting.
The fluorescent buzz faded into white noise as Jane drank her in. Two years. He’d memorized the stubborn set of her jaw, the way her dark brows could draw together like storm clouds, the deceptive softness of her lips when she was thinking hard. But now, under the harsh institutional lights, he saw new things. Tiny shifts. A faint trace of silver near her temple, almost hidden in the rich brown of her hair cascading over her shoulders. Had that been there before? It intrigued him. The subtle lines fanning from the corners of her eyes when she finally looked up – not from age, but from the weight of command, of decisions that cut deep. He’d always admired her strength, but now… now he found the visible cost of it oddly, fiercely beautiful. The way her thumb absently traced the edge of the glass tabletop, a gesture of contained energy he’d never noticed. It spoke of impatience, yes, but also a focused intensity that sent a jolt straight through him.
Her head snapped up as the meeting room door opened again. Abbott entered first, his posture radiating controlled authority. “Lisbon. Good, you’re here.” His voice was clipped, efficient.
Then Jane stepped in behind him.
Teresa’s breath hitched, a tiny, almost imperceptible catch in her throat that Jane, attuned to every micro-expression, noted instantly. Her eyes widened, shock warring with something Jane could not quite define, in her dark gaze. She pushed herself to her feet, the chair sliding back. “Jane?”
“Lisbon,” he murmured, the name a soft caress that felt illicit in the sterile room. They looked at each other for a moment before Jane could not handle the distance and pulled her into a tight embrace. “I missed you.” He breathed into her hair. “I missed you too.” She responded softly. Jane was reluctant to let go, but Teresa started to pull back and he remembered Abbott was in the room. “Now Jane, let’s discuss your terms”. Abbott stated as he droped into his chair.