Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with The Mentalist and am doing this purely for entertainment, not receiving any compensation other than (hopefully) some feedback.
Author's Note: This is just a glimpse into the family life of our heroes, mostly fluff. There's mention of crime that happens before the story begins, and some angst mixed in, but mostly I wrote this to keep my sanity in the face of spoilers.
Chapter 1: Welcome Home
The apartment was surprisingly quiet when Patrick Jane let himself in, entering the alarm code quickly as he frowned in thought. It was Wednesday, wasn't it? The twins didn't have any after school activities on Wednesdays, but maybe Teresa had taken them somewhere to distract them. She wasn't expecting him for a few more hours, after all; he'd decided to fly home rather than drive back with the rest of the unit and hadn't called to let her know, wanting to surprise them.
"Gimme!" a familiar voice demanded from the dining room. Jane smiled as he set his bag down on the couch and headed in that direction. As he got closer, he could hear music playing, one of those kids' CDs he hated that consisted of unremarkable popular music with sanitized lyrics.
"Victoria, wait until Liam is finished with it. Here, try this one." Teresa's patient tone was a little more strained than usual, but then she'd been a single parent for almost two weeks now. She had to be exhausted.
"I want the green!" Victoria persisted.
"Here," Liam said. "I'll use the yellow and then put blue on it."
Patrick reached the doorway and leaned against the frame, his weariness fading as he looked at his family. They were bent over the table, coloring industriously on a large piece of paper that he soon realized read "Welcome home, Daddy!"
Teresa was on the far side of the table, with Liam at the foot and Victoria nearest him, on her knees as she ground the crayon into the paper with broad strokes. In contrast, Liam was careful to stay inside the lines, biting his lip as he concentrated. Just like his mother was doing, Patrick noted, his gaze landing on his wife.
Something knotted and painful loosened inside him at the sight of her. She had pulled her hair into a messy ponytail and was wearing an old T-shirt, but she'd never looked better to him. Skype, although a wonderful invention, couldn't compare to being in the same room with her. This was the longest they'd been separated since his stint in Vegas almost seven years ago, and if he had his way, it was the very last time he would leave his family for any reason, no matter how worthy.
Liam happened to look up then, catching sight of his father and sucking in a breath of surprise as his sea green eyes widened above his grin. Teresa looked at her son, then followed his gaze. Happiness brightened her face as she pushed out of her chair, and Victoria let out an ear-splitting shriek of "Daddy!"
"Should I go away until you're finished?" Patrick teased as Victoria launched herself into his arms and Liam wrapped his arms around his waist and squeezed hard. Teresa let him hug and kiss both kids before wedging herself in, linking her arms around his neck and giving him a smiling kiss. It was over much too soon for him; after all these years, she was still his safe harbor, and he wanted nothing more than to sink into her arms and lose himself in her.
But that would have to wait until bedtime, which would probably be a drawn-out affair from the way Victoria and Liam were babbling at him much too fast to be understood. Meeting her eyes, he saw that she was thinking the same thing, her smile turning rueful.
"Ow!" He couldn't help yelping as something tugged painfully at his scalp.
"Daddy, listen!" Victoria insisted as he reached up to remove her hand from his hair.
"Victoria Marie!" Teresa exclaimed. Patrick recognized the tone from years of being on the wrong end of her temper. "What did I tell you about pulling hair? Just this morning?"
Victoria pouted, which usually worked on her father but was pointless with her mother. "That it's not nice," she said reluctantly.
"And?" Teresa said sternly.
Victoria sniffled, but Patrick recognized fake tears when he saw them. Victoria was shaping up to be a first-class actress, every inch her father's daughter. "And not to."
"And what happens when you do something you know you're not supposed to?" Teresa was the family disciplinarian, and she was good at it. She'd been cowing criminals for years, and as much as she adored her children, she was determined to teach them to behave well.
Patrick wanted to plead extenuating circumstances on his darling daughter's behalf, but he and Teresa had agreed years ago not to argue in front of the children or undermine each other's authority. So he kept silent as Victoria wailed, "I don't want to go in timeout! Daddy!"
"Sorry, sweetheart." He kissed her forehead and set her down, which was difficult since she did her best to cling to him. "You know the rules. I'll see you in a few minutes."
Victoria did not go quietly, but Teresa escorted her from the room with an apologetic glance at him, obviously sensing that he wanted to intervene. He smiled a little at her to let her know he wasn't upset, then looked down as Liam tugged at his sleeve. "Hey, Liam," he said, broadening his smile as he looked at his little boy.
"I made you something," Liam said.
"I see that," Patrick said, looking at the half-finished banner.
"No, something else. In my room." Liam took his hand and led him through the door, and he followed willingly.
He understood why Madeleine had sent him on this case, but there was nothing worse than crimes involving children. Even though the boys the killer had preyed on were a few years older than Liam, he'd still had nightmares about finding his son at one of the crime scenes. Seeing him whole and happy was a great gift, a gift too many fathers in Southern California would no longer get. Patrick wasn't going to take a moment of it for granted.
Liam let go of his hand and ran to the desk in the corner of his room, picking up a piece of paper and coming back to stand in front of him, looking uncertain. He really wanted him to like his latest drawing, Patrick knew. As if there were a chance he wouldn't.
"Well? Do I have to say the magic word?" He grinned.
Liam smiled and shook his head, then took a deep breath and handed him the picture. Patrick didn't have to feign being impressed as he looked at the drawing of his Citroen, garaged a few blocks away and rarely driven anymore. "Liam, that's great! Thank you. This is your best one yet."
"I used the colored pencils Grandpa Virgil gave me for Christmas," Liam said. "Mommy took a picture with her phone and printed it out for me so I could get it right. I did, didn't I?"
His anxious look made Patrick bend down to scoop him into a hug, careful not to crumple the drawing. "It's perfect," he said. "Thank you."
He would never stop being surprised that he and Teresa had managed to produce an artist. He'd always thought Charlotte's musical talent came from Angela, but all the Lisbons he'd met were practical, nose-to-the-grindstone types, with not a poetical dreamer among them. Maybe it was a recessive gene from his own mother, whom he'd barely known?
"Mommy said if you liked it we could get a frame," Liam said when he let go.
"Then we'll definitely get a frame, because I love it."
Liam looked up at him thoughtfully. He had his father's eyes but his mother's honest, open way of looking at people. He also had her kind heart. If there was a kid on the playground who looked lonely or sad, it was a sure bet Liam would feel the need to go make friends. He wasn't sure what Liam saw in his face, but the boy put his arms around him and hugged again.
"I'm so glad to be home," Patrick said, hugging back. "Thank you for such a great welcome."
"Mommy said you need lots of hugs," Liam explained when he stepped back.
"And we know Mommy is always right," Patrick chuckled, smiling to cover the tears that wanted to come. He could just picture Teresa recruiting the kids into her effort to comfort him after the hellish case he'd been forced to take. It had been a long time since he'd been involved enough with a case to let it get to him, but she apparently remembered the signs. And even with five year old twins and a demanding job, she'd paid enough attention over phone calls and video chats to see them. He felt a rush of love and gratitude.
"Daddy!" Victoria called, running down the hall. She was all smiles again as she threw her arms around him, her usual sunny temperament restored. "Come see me dance! My show is Saturday."
Patrick followed her across the hall into her room, thankful he'd made it back in time for her ballet recital. She was more enthusiastic than talented, but he wanted to encourage appreciation for the arts and culture in his children, and Teresa agreed as long as they also got exposed to sports.
Hearing jangling in the hall, he glanced over his shoulder to see Teresa carrying his luggage to their room, probably determined to unpack it. "Leave that, darling. I'll get it later," he called. His case notes were with Cho, but he couldn't remember now if he'd tossed the bloody shirt in or thrown it away. He'd been a little out of it.
Teresa joined him a few moments later, and he wrapped one arm around her and one around Liam, who leaned against his side as they watched Victoria spin around in her tutu.
Perfect, Patrick thought. This was the best homecoming he could have wished for.
mmm
Teresa cleaned up the dinner dishes, pleased to note there were no leftovers. It had taken several attempts to replicate Patrick's spaghetti sauce, but it seemed she'd finally done it. His effusive praise of the simple meal had made her blush, which might have been his goal, she now realized.
She smiled, listening to his distant voice as he mimicked the characters in the bedtime story he was reading. This was the third one, by her count, but she knew he needed the time with the kids. Besides, she was about at the end of her rope after fighting the daily battles that came with raising children. It was a huge relief to have reinforcements, and letting the kids stay up late while their father read to them seemed a minor infraction, though she was aware she wouldn't think so in the morning when she had to wrangle them for school.
But she wanted her turn with Patrick. She'd missed him fiercely.
He was still reading when she finished cleaning up, so she booted up her laptop to get some work done. Hightower had been forced to allow her to work part-time and mostly remotely while Patrick was out of town, since he had refused to consider any other childcare option, but she was now facing a substantial backlog.
Engrossed in case reports, she worked longer than she meant to. When she shut down the laptop, the lights in the kids' rooms were off and a lamp in the master bedroom was on. She wondered why Patrick hadn't come out to interrupt her and went to see what he was up to.
He was sprawled on his back on the bed, having managed to remove his jacket and shoes but nothing else, and was snoring lightly. He really must be wiped out, she thought, sighing as she gave up her hopes for a passionate reunion.
And he hadn't managed to unpack, she saw as she headed for the bathroom. She might as well do it for him; she could drop his dry cleaning off after taking the kids to school in the morning. He only wore suits now when he was working, so he hadn't bothered to buy many.
The bloody shirt came as a shock. She held it up to gauge the shape of the stain, trying to figure out if the blood was Patrick's. It looked like it could have come from a bloody nose; had someone punched him? Or had he suffered some other injury?
She went to the bed and gently unbuttoned his vest, then his shirt, running her fingers over his unmarked chest with a sense of relief. She was just being silly. If he'd gotten hurt, Cho would have told her, she knew. She pressed a kiss over his heart and went back to unpacking.
mmm
Teresa woke up and listened, trying to figure out what had disturbed her. But she couldn't hear any noise from the kids, and the clock read three-thirty, so she rolled over with a groan. Then she realized Patrick wasn't in bed with her. His getting up must have been what woke her.
She rolled out of bed and turned on the lamp. The rest of his clothes had joined his jacket on the nearest wingback chair, so he'd been up for a while.
The creak of a door made her look up. Of course. She'd been meaning to oil the hinges on Victoria's door for a week. That was what had woken her.
Sliding out of bed, she found Patrick exactly where she expected: at Liam's partially open door, looking in on his son after checking on his daughter. It was a habit as old as the twins themselves. He always did it after a nightmare; she knew he had a compulsion to reassure himself that his family was safe and sound whenever he was anxious. Perfectly understandable, though tonight she missed the days when he'd simply wake her for comfort sex.
She slid her arms around him from behind, flattening her hands against his bare stomach and pressing a kiss into his shoulder blade. God, she'd missed him. Was it selfish to be hopeful that he hadn't bothered to put pajamas on? It might just be that he was too tired to bother and planned to sleep in his boxers.
"Three-thirty and all is well," she whispered.
Patrick made a quiet huffing sound she hoped was one of amusement. "For us. Not for everyone." He sighed, pulling the door closed and resting his forehead against it. "All those fathers, Teresa. They made me remember. Not that I ever forgot, of course, but... It doesn't stop hurting. Ever. But eventually you can feel other things again, something other than the pain, the rage, the guilt. The constant replay in your head of what you could have done to stop it. The knowledge that protecting your child is the most important thing in your life and you failed at it, with no chance to try again, to redeem yourself."
What could she say to that? He didn't want platitudes, and she'd always felt this was one area she wasn't qualified to speak on. "I'm sorry. I wish you hadn't had to take this one." Even though Hightower had insisted, then threatened, and finally pled the case of the parents whose children would be lost if he didn't help them catch this maniac. Teresa had felt it was a low blow, but she had been desperate to help the team catch the killer too.
She just hadn't thought it would take so long and be so hard on her husband. Years of happiness had made his scars fade so that she rarely noticed them, but tonight they were obviously painful. She should have protested, tried to keep him home. She should have had his back.
Patrick turned in her embrace. "Teresa," he whispered, "my greatest wish is that you never, ever know what it feels like."
She swallowed hard. Losing her babies was too horrible to think about. "Mine too."
He put his arms around her, fingers stroking the silk of the nightgown she'd put on instead of her usual sleepwear. His lips twitched a little. "Sorry I missed out on the grown-up homecoming celebrations."
She smiled gently. "They weren't canceled, just postponed. When you're ready. I can tell Hightower you're in no shape to be left alone and that she has to give me tomorrow off. She owes you that."
A corner of his mouth lifted. "That and more. Do you want a bigger office? A raise? I bet I can get it for you."
"I'll get my own raises, thank you." She leaned up to give him a soft kiss. "Come back to bed. I've been sleeping alone for far too long, and I refuse to do it any longer."
He let out a groan. "Oh, me too."
"Liar," she whispered, kissing her way along his jawline. "I know what you look like when you're not sleeping. How long has it been? Since you left?"
"Yeah. I missed you." He tightened his arms around her and caught her mouth in a devouring kiss that made her go weak in the knees. She returned it eagerly, marveling that six years of marriage hadn't dimmed his ability to set her body on fire almost instantly.
After a moment she forced herself to pull away, catching his hands in hers and pulling him toward the bedroom, smiling at his sly grin. This was going to be a night to remember.