Chapter 1:
Patrick Jane knew that he was late. Lisbon had called him a good forty five minutes ago and gave him the address to their newest case but he just couldn't drag himself from bed to go. He didn't know what was wrong with him the past few days. He felt drained and that headache that he had been getting now was back with a couple more friends. It hurt so bad he couldn't see straight. Just as soon as he felt himself drifting back off his cellphone rang.
"Hey." He answered.
"Don't you hey me, Jane we are here waiting on you to do your thing. Have you even left your place?" Teresa Lisbon shouted into his ear causing his headache to worsen.
"I think, yes I think it's time I use one of those sick days." He whispered.
After taking note to his hushed tones she started to feel a little concern for her consultant.
"Jane, are you okay?" she asked genuinely concerned.
After hear the concern in her voice Jane decided that no matter how horrible he felt he just couldn't take listening to Lisbon's voice dripping with pity. Pity from her was irksome.
"I'll be there in ten minutes." He hung up before he could change his mind.
"Did you get a hold of Jane?" Van Pelt asked.
"Yea, he said he was sick but then he recanted."
Teresa noticed the look on her fellow agents face.
"What is it?" she asked.
"It's probably nothing but yesterday, he slept the afternoon away on the couch."
"Yesterday was a slow day. How is that different than any other?"
"Well he made his tea and didn't drink it. He said it tasted funny, and have you noticed lately he looked so tired."
She had noticed. She wouldn't want her agents to know but she had noticed a change in the man. She would have to observe him closer once he got there.
Van Pelt spotted him first as he practically staggered into the crime scene. Charlie Xavier had been murdered last night. The weird thing was she had been missing for the past week. She had gone missing without a trace, stolen from her bedroom. Now as if by magic she was returned to her family just as she was stolen only difference was that she was dead.
"You alright Jane?" Van Pelt asked concerned.
"Never better." He smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
He slowly circled the body trying to see what he could find. She was young; she couldn't be any older than 14 or 15 years old. Her eyes were what caught him off guard, they were green, so green yet at first glance they looked almost blue. He knew eyes like that, eyes like his. Her killer hadn't killed her maliciously, he had given her something to make her pass in her sleep, but she had an allergic reaction and it ended violently. He took extra care when he bathed her and put her in fresh pajamas. Her makeup was immaculate and she smelt of strawberries and cream. Right when it hit his nose he knew he had to get out of there. He quickly ran from the room ignoring the calls from both Lisbon and Van Pelt.
When Lisbon rounded the corner she was shocked at what she saw. The usually calm and collected Patrick Jane was throwing up in the bushes. If he was drunk and puking up her crime scene so help her she would have his ass.
"Jane!" she shouted.
When he looked up she had never been more frightened in her life. His face was white as a sheet, so white that his green eyes were stark and blank. There was blood coming from his nose. He looked at it shocked and wiped it away with a shaky hand.
