I do not own The Mentalist or Groundhog Day...nor will I copy either of these two materials entirely. *nervous laugh*

It started out as day just like any other. Jane got up. He took a shower. He got dressed. He ate his customary breakfast of toast and tea. He drove to the CBI headquarters. Normal.

"Good morning Van Pelt, Rigsby, Cho," Jane said as he entered the room.

"Good morning Jane," Van Pelt smiled. It was clear to Jane she must have found out that Rigsby had broken up with his latest fling.

"Morning," said Cho, without looking up from his paperwork.

"Mpgh," mumbled Rigsby. He was taking the breakup worse than the last few women he dated. The thought crossed Jane's mind that she must have been out of Rigsby's league.

Jane was wavering between going to bother Lisbon and getting a cup of tea (and bothering Lisbon was about to win out) when he saw her out of the corner of his eye slink out of her office. This was her patented get-morning-coffee-without-having-to-talk-to-anyone slink, and so Jane decided to kill two birds with one stone. He entered the kitchen moments after she did.

"Please tell me you didn't come in here to 'bid' me good morning like yesterday."

"Good morning Lisbon," said Jane. This was followed by a teasing smirk, as Lisbon grimaced, "There's nothing good about mornings." Everything about Lisbon this morning screamed a bad night's sleep.

"Except for morning beverages," he said reverently, all mock seriousness now.

"True," she admitted, as she poured herself a huge cup of coffee. Jane opened his mouth to speak, but got cut off. "Don't tell me about the disadvantages of drinking too much coffee. I know you're thinking it. And yes, you were going to use the word 'disadvantages.'"

"Au contraire, my dear," Jane said, a bit put out she knew exactly what was he was about to declaim, "I was going to use detriment."

"Really, 'detriment'? Are you a walking thesaurus now?"

Jane, in response, started to brew his tea. Lisbon took a sip of her coffee, grimaced, and poured a more than generous amount of milk into it.

"And I'll have you know that your black tea has about the same amount of caffeine as this weak stuff does."

"As I can see your coffee contains a much higher ratio of milk to 'this weak stuff,' I agree wholeheartedly." Jane glanced over at Lisbon to see her eyes about forty percent open. This was a good gain, considering what time it was.

"Well, since you seem to be awake enough to use words like thesaurus, my work here is done."

Jane exited the kitchen, cup in hand, as Lisbon shot a death ray glare into his back. Granted, the glare was rendered less lethal because her eyes were still only slits, but if glares could kill, Jane would have been dead many times over.

It was not until Jane's morning nap was over that the day began to deviate its usual pattern of sleep, Sudoku puzzles, and teasing Lisbon (not necessarily in that order).

The call came in at 12:08 about a double homicide. Local police near Lassen National Park suspected a human and drug trafficking ring. Rumors were brandied about that influential members of the state legislature and congress protected the ring from criminal prosecution. Lisbon mentioned the rumors in her briefing as the main reason the team had been assigned the case.

Political corruption and human rights violations made for some of the most delicate cases to prosecute, and Lisbon made sure Jane knew this before they visited the crime scene. In fact, she gave him a lecture on etiquette on their drive there. The only useful information Jane got out of it was that Lisbon went to a preparatory or possibly a Catholic School at some point in her education. This led to images of a young Lisbon in a plaid uniform complete with knee socks, at which Jane snickered loud enough for Lisbon to hear.

"I swear Jane, if you can't be serious about this, I'm going to pull off to the side of the road and let you hitchhike your way back to the CBI," Lisbon threatened.

"Oh, I'd just hitchhike my way to the crime scene," replied Jane.

"Fifty bucks says he'd get there before we did," piped in Cho from the back seat. Jane surmised Cho was not feeling gracious towards Lisbon, as riding in the back seat of the car and reading did not sit well with him. He looked a touch green around the gills as he doggedly clung to his book.

At 3:38 PM, the team arrived at the crime scene. Jane felt cheated of his afternoon nap, because the murders turned out to be so devoid of creativity. They were single bullet shot wounds exiting clear from the bodies, no shell casings or bullets found, and the bodies dumped off the trail not far into the park. Forensics was working to find trace evidence, but Jane could see that they wouldn't find much. It looked like a fairly professional job, but then that was to be expected with organized crime rings.

At 4:02, Lisbon decided to check in with the local police and then head back. Jane tried to coerce her into letting him go back home with Van Pelt and Rigsby. He thought there might be some fun to be had on a three hour drive, Rigsby's break up being so recent and all. Jane wondered briefly whether they had talked about it during the ride up. He decided they hadn't. Van Pelt avoided conflict and Rigsby would never bring it up. But Jane certainly would.

Lisbon, however, wanted Jane where she could keep track of him. They proceeded to interview the police assigned to the case, and that was when Jane recognized one of the drug ring suspects as his former client. He pressed Lisbon to investigate the man further, remembering that he had had some large skeletons in his closet. After some prodding, Lisbon caved and they drove over to the suspect's house.

As dusk turned into night the trio walked up the path, dodging shrubs and trees to get to the house. Once Jane picked the lock, time seemed to slow down.

Jane could later place in detail every item of furniture, every picture, every carpet stain or chipped tile in the hallway, the living room, the kitchen in that accursed house.

Lisbon called out the suspect's name every so often.

Both Cho and Lisbon had their guns drawn, stepping cautiously, but not cautiously enough.

He was waiting for them to come around the exact precise corner.

At 5:53 PM, Jane heard what changed this day from normal to Earth shattering.

A gunshot called out. It was a single wound to the head.

Teresa Lisbon died instantly.

She dropped to the floor as Cho fired back, taking out the suspect.

Jane's heart dropped with her.

Somehow, Jane got up the next day. He took a shower. He got dressed. He choked down his customary breakfast of toast and tea. He drove to the CBI headquarters. All was normal, except for one thing. There was one glaring difference.

"Van Pelt. Rigsby. Cho," Jane said as he entered the room, feeling his world spiraling out of control, again.

"Good morning Jane," Van Pelt smiled. Jane wondered how anyone could smile after a day like yesterday. Images of his wife, daughter, and now Lisbon drowned in crimson stains danced through his mind.

"Morning," said Cho, without looking up from his paperwork. Jane could not take much more of this.

"Mpgh," mumbled Rigsby.

As Jane stood there in a slight daze, wondering how much his remaining team members would keep reminding him of what happened yesterday—and then what had happened to his family—he saw something out of the corner of his eye slink out of Lisbon's office. He did not at first believe what he saw, but after processing it for a moment, he rushed into the kitchen.

"Please tell me you didn't come in here to 'bid' me good morning like yesterday."

Jane just stared, speechless for the first time in his entire life.

"There's nothing good about mornings," Lisbon continued, eying the coffee pot with derision.

"Except for morning beverages," he murmured, unable to take his gaze off of Lisbon, who looked perfectly healthy (albeit sleepy).

"True," she admitted, as she poured herself a huge cup of coffee. Jane opened his mouth to speak, but got cut off. "Don't tell me about the disadvantages of drinking too much coffee. I know you're thinking it. And yes, you were going to use the word 'disadvantages.'"

"Au contraire, my dear," Jane said, still staring, his mind a blaze of thoughts, speculations, and emotions all tangled up into one thought: this cannot be happening. The thought crossed his mind that he was going crazy. Again. "I was going to ask you to pinch me."

"Are you crazy?" Lisbon asked, a bit troubled. Oh, she didn't know the half of it. "You look like you've seen a ghost. And I know you don't believe in ghosts." That was ironic. Lisbon, who should be dead, was lecturing him on being rational.

"Just pinch me. Hard."

Lisbon shrugged and complied.

"Ouch!" Jane rubbed his arm, despondent now. "Well, that's one possibility out of the way."

"Would you tell me what this is all about?"

"I thought about it," Jane said, "but you wouldn't believe me if I did. Sorry Lisbon."

He moved to leave the kitchen. "Just chalk it up to me being whimsical as usual," he threw back over his shoulder.

Lisbon was left standing, coffee cup in hand, staring after him.

Would anyone like to beta the rest of the story? Pretty please? There are still some plot issues to be ironed out, and it would help me immensely to have someone motivate me to write.