A/N: An insight into Cho's past. Thanks to my awesome beta, tromana!

"I sentence you to two years in juvenile prison."

The gavel came down on the block, and Kimball Cho was pulled forcefully up to a standing position by two policemen. He shot the dirty looks before they escorted him out of the court room. As he left he saw his mother and stepfather walking out of the other doors. His step father had a smug smile on his face, while his mother dabbed at her face with a tissue.

'You bastard,' he swore silently at his stepfather. 'This is your fault, you scheming rat-faced bastard.'

"Move it, you."

He was pulled along roughly by one of the guards, and he winced at the familiar feeling of the handcuffs chafing on his wrists as they pulled his arm.

"Quit pulling me!" he yelped, immediately regretting it. He should have bit his tongue. He knew it was stupid to answer back. You bowed down to these guys, you didn't mouth of at them. Luckily for him, the other security guard was one of the nicer guys, not so drawn to the 'beat them to make the shut up' side of life.

They led him outside, and the people walking along the street to go to work or wherever avoided walking too close to the Korean boy in cuffs and the butch looking security guards. He was pushed into the back of a police car, and they drove off towards the high security juvenile prison.

When they arrived, he felt significantly degraded when they strip searched him. He wasn't a killer, it wasn't his fault! It wasn't his gun; it was self defence. Sure, so he shouldn't have been shoplifting in the first place, but the guy shouldn't have aimed the gun at him, should he? They'd battled for the gun, and it had gone off. The guy was dead instantly, but it would be on Kimball Cho's conscience forever.

He pulled on the gray sweatshirt and the khaki colored cargo pants that were the 'uniform' for the juvenile detention prison he'd been assigned to. Along with shoes without shoelaces.

Once that was done, a male prison warden showed him to his cell. It was small, the walls made of gray concrete with a sink, toilet, desk and a small bookshelf. Livable, yes. Better than living with his bastard of a step father? Hell, yes.

"Recreation time is in half an hour. I'll come and collect you then. Make yourself comfortable," the guard said, and locked the cell door closed. Kimball lay down on the bed, and covered his face with his hand. 'You brought this on yourself,' his thoughts told him. 'It's all your fault.'

Half an hour later, the warden returned to take him out to the recreation area. Kimball walked out into to the bright sunshine, and looked around. There was a group of tough-looking skinheads in a group, and some other boys in another group. Sitting alone was a small geeky looking boy reading a book. Kimball made a beeline for the kid on his own.

"Hey," he greeted the kid, who looked up at him with barely concealed fright.

"H… hi."

The kid looked about age twelve, three years younger than Kimball.

"What's your name?"

"Louis," the boy proffered his hand for Kimball to shake. "You?"

"Kimball. Kimball Cho," Kimball smiled at the boy. "You looked kinda lonely."

"They others… they're so big and tough. They make me nervous." Louis ducked his head slightly.

"Why are you in here?" Kimball asked, as Louis didn't look the fighting type.

"We're not meant to talk about that…" Louis began, but Cho looked so interestedly in what he had to say he carried on. "Drug trafficking."

"Petty theft and manslaughter," Kimball revealed.

"My uncle threatened to kill my baby sister unless I did it," Louis confided in Cho.

They spent the rest of the recreation time talking about their lives. All too soon, they had to return to their cells. Kimball simply paced around his. He had nothing else to do for now.

At dinner time, Kimball waited for Louis to turn up, since he didn't know anyone else. After twenty minutes they boy didn't appear, Kimball walked over and asked one of the wardens. It was the warden who had taken him to recreation.

"He's been taken to hospital; one of the older boys beat him up pretty bad," the warden told Kimball. "Now, you're not meant to know but I saw he was your buddy."

"Thanks, sir," Kimball nodded at the warden respectfully, and went to get himself dinner.

Over the next few weeks, Kimball did his best to avoid the older boys for fear if having to get involved with their 'gang' or getting beat up himself. Sure, he could defend himself, but he'd probably get more years in juvie because of it.

He got updates on Louis' conditions from his warden. It horrified him that it ended so badly. He'd slipped into a coma and died from blood loss.

'And this is just why I want to catch the bastards who cause the real problems. Louise didn't deserve to die! He didn't even deserve to be sentenced to fucking prison!' Kimball fumed in his cell, angry at the injustice. 'When I get out of this godforsaken place, I'm going to help the people who can't help themselves. People like Louis.'

That was the first time he had his mind focused on any sort of career. He vowed to himself that he'd get into the police force.

The second time was when the gang of boys tried to convince him to smoke a stash of weed they'd acquired somehow. He'd refused, and had reported them to the wardens. Not to be a snitch. Just to get it all sorted. It turned out that a young girl had died from smoking a cigarette one of the boys had smuggled to her. Security really sucked.

'When I can, I'm going to stop crap like this from happening,' he promised himself.

He got himself moved into a private area with other boys who needed what they called 'protection' from the tougher guys in the main area. For a start, they got a better recreation ground. Most of the others were there because they'd told the wardens about activities being done by the more violent of the juvie population.

Finally, one year, three months and eight days later, Kimball was released back into the real world. Finally free of the prison gates, out early because of his cooperation with the authorities.

He refused to go back to live with his mother and stepfather. No way.

Instead, he moved into a small apartment in Sacramento. He'd found it in the papers when he'd been looking for a job. There was a job opening for a recruit to the Serious Crimes Unit of the CBI, and one of the agents was offering a spare room in her apartment.

He called her up, and was surprised to find that she was very welcoming.

"Of course you can live here. I'm advertising it for a reason," she'd said with a laugh. A few days later he'd turned up on her doorstep with all him personal belongings. In other words, not much. Just a battered suitcase with a change of clothes, some underwear and a toothbrush.

"You must be Cho," she greeted him after she had opened the door. Cho shook her proffered hand.

"Miss. Lisbon, thank you," he smiled gratefully, and she opened the door wider to let him in.

"Agent Lisbon," she corrected him, "and please, it's Teresa when I'm not at work."

"Teresa," he said, and she nodded. "Well then, I guess that makes me Kim."

Lisbon showed him to the room that she'd had agreed to rent to him. It was significantly larger than anything he had had before. Though the furnishings were modest and simple, to Cho, they seemed designed for royalty.

"I'll drive you to the CBI HQ tomorrow. Show you the ropes. Minelli, he's the guy whose spot you're taking, is becoming the boss of the CBI."

"Right," Cho nodded.

"Oh, and apparently we're getting a consultant or something. Some fake psychic," Lisbon rolled her eyes and Cho laughed.

"Sounds… interesting," he agreed.

"Did you ever hear of Patrick Jane? I read about him in the papers. Wife and daughter murdered by Red John," Lisbon said, and Cho looked blank.

"I only got out of juvie last week," he reminded her.

"Oh, yeah," she remembered what he'd told her.

"How long have you been with the CBI?" Cho asked.

"Five years now," Lisbon said, and Cho nodded.

"Well, I look forward to meeting this Patrick Jane guy. And the rest of the team," he grinned, and followed her toward the kitchen.

"Can you cook?" Lisbon asked, and Cho nodded.

"Not very well…" he admitted sheepishly.

"I'll teach you. For now, I'll cook. You go set up the dining room." She gestured towards a drawer which contained the cutlery.

"Sure thing," Cho got out the cutlery and walked off towards the dining room to set the table. 'This is sure going to be interesting,' he mused.

Two years later, Rigsby joined the team, and three years after that, Grace Van Pelt joined as the new rookie.

By then, Lisbon was the head of the unit, and was past resenting Jane and his methods, however crazed and unusual. Lisbon had moved out to a larger apartment, and Cho had finally had the money to keep the apartment for himself.

Lisbon and Cho had become firm friends, and it took Lisbon three years to even begin trusting anyone else on the team.

A/N: So? What did you think? Please review!