Disclaimer: I don't own or write for 'The Mentalist'.
Summary: Gift story for PetitJ. A long winter's night can still be surprisingly warm. Post-RJ, Jisbon, baby-fic. Warning: cotton-candy-level fluff ahead.
Author's Note: What can I say? The more angst and drama I put into my multi-chap-in-progress, the more fluff winds up in my one-shots! This is not only angst-free and pretty much plot-free… it's also a birthday present for my dear friend PetitJ. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
It's All Coming Back to Me
When Patrick Jane woke from a deep and dreamless sleep, it was (he thought) to complete darkness and silence. His eyes blinked in the blackness while his mind slowly began to clear.
The first thing he noticed, as the mental fog lifted, was that the darkness was actually far from total. There was a low, dull, warm red light coming from the dying embers in a fireplace. -Fireplace in the bedroom,- he thought, and slowly began to run through the options of where in the world he could be.
As his eyes adjusted further, he could see the outlines of dark wood paneling and elegant yet slightly rustic furniture. The curtains that covered the windows were loose, heavy, and did not billow, and that and the previously lit fireplace made him think he was somewhere… cold. There was only one place in his memory palace that all of these details matched.
The whole team knew he'd kept his beach house in Malibu. It was a shrine, of sorts; a bitter reminder of the cost of arrogance. But he almost never went there anymore, not after that last visit with Lisbon that shook him out of blissful ignorance due to amnesia. And he was certain that none of them, not even Lisbon, had known about the cabin he owned on Mt. Shasta. He hadn't seen it in ten years, though he'd paid well (very well) to keep it perfectly maintained in his absence.
Yet here he was. There was nowhere else this could be; he was almost sure of it.
Jane climbed out of bed, and the way his toes sank into the soft carpet piling removed any doubt. He'd selected that carpet himself, all those years back. Every single sample had felt too rough for Charlotte's baby feet; they'd gone through dozens to find this one, and bought up as much as they could. His heart squeezed tenderly at the memory, but the sensation of loss and the wave of pain that usually followed didn't come. That surprised him.
He padded to the window, and tugged aside a curtain to look out. Darkness and stillness surrounded the cabin. In the silence, he could almost hear the snow falling.
Why was he here?
He moved to switch on a low lamp, and half-closed his eyes against the sudden bloom of light. Further details of furniture and interior design were revealed, but no immediate answers. He hadn't gone back in time: he felt no younger and the trees outside were taller than they had been back then. There were other unexpected visual clues, too. Why were both sides of the bed mussed, instead of only the one he'd just climbed out of?
And what was the baby crib doing back in the corner of the room?
Was he dreaming?
For someone blessed with near-perfect recall of people, places, and events, each moment of uncertainty was unnerving. And yet there wasn't any feeling of danger, no sense of dread, just comforting warmth in a familiar place.
What was going on?
When he heard a sound from outside, a particular slam of an SUV door so recognizable to him that he'd know it anywhere, that was when it all began to untangle at last.
Lisbon.
Dear Lisbon, who had stood by him through it all, even the death of Red John and his subsequent breakdown. He had never done anything to deserve a friend like her. But her generous nature and kind heart were stronger and more resilient than anything he'd ever known. Was it any wonder that he loved her? After all, how could he not?
The wonder was that after everything that had happened, everything he'd been, everything he'd done… she loved him back.
They'd come together not long after his recovery. A quick afternoon in front of a Justice of the Peace, with Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt as witnesses, had been a natural-feeling step in due time. He remembered with a smile the absolute lack of surprise from the team when he and Lisbon had told them.
And as for the rest of the CBI? Well… maybe some people had been shocked. But even they'd had nearly a year to adjust before the baby came.
He heard the door to the cabin shut firmly but gently, as if Lisbon wasn't sure whether he was awake. The dull thuds of first one, then the other of her heavy boots hitting the downstairs closet wall as she kicked them off made him smile. Bless her practicality in this weather. But where had she gone so early?
When he heard her moving around in the kitchen, rather than coming back to bed, he tapped the lamp again to shut it off. Slowly he crept down the stairs, and wondered if he could observe her unnoticed. -Or even sneak up on her,- he thought with a grin.
"So, you're up," she said softly from the kitchen, without turning around. No sneaking this time, apparently.
"Yes," he answered. "I woke up and you were gone. And for a moment I honestly couldn't remember where I was. And then when I did remember where, I couldn't remember why."
"Do you remember now?" she asked.
"Oh yes," he said with a smile. "It's all coming back to me."
She was still facing away from him, but he could hear the answering smile in her voice when she replied, "Well, you'll be happy to know that you were right. I do think this is a lovely place to spend our first Christmas as a family."
When she did turn to face him, he saw the little bundle snuggled up to her front. He should've known she would take their baby with her, just in case he woke up and needed something. Just to let her husband sleep. Was there ever a kinder woman?
"Where did you go, still wearing your pajamas?" he asked.
"To that 24-hour store you showed me on the drive up. I knew we were running low on coffee, tea, and eggs, and I didn't want to try and locate any on Christmas morning."
"Good thinking," he agreed. "How's Bunny?"
"He's fine, dear. I made sure we were both bundled up, so he's safe and warm. He didn't even wake up." Their son's full name was Chet Samuel Lisbon Jane, but they'd both thought that was a bit much for a 6-month-old to bear.
His nickname had come from his energetic gyrations before birth. Jane had watched Lisbon's swollen belly jump, and commented happily that their little one already 'hopped like a bunny'. Lisbon had laughed, and the name had stuck.
Lisbon noticed squirming near her middle as she spoke, and looked down to see two tiny turquoise eyes peeping up at her. "Hey, sweetie, so you decided to wake up after all? Heard Daddy talking about you, didn't you?" She smiled as she gently stroked her baby's curls. "Since we're all up now, it must be time for fixing some early breakfast."
"Allow me," Jane said, and ushered her into a seat at the kitchen table.
So at six in the morning on Christmas Eve, Jane cooked breakfast while Lisbon made easy conversation. Once finished, the three of them sat, ate, and enjoyed each other's company. Lisbon nursed their little son after eating her food, and then Jane took him, burped him, and effortlessly rocked him back to sleep.
"Out like a light," Lisbon commented. "I still don't know how you always do that."
"I told you, it's magic," he said with a wink. Lisbon rolled her eyes, but still smiled as she reached out to take the baby back upstairs to his crib.
As she started to walk out of the kitchen, she stopped and turned back. "I also picked you up a newspaper, by the way. We've been here for nearly a week with no cable and no Internet, so I thought you might be wondering what was happening in the world."
Jane stood and walked over to her. "Oh, Teresa," he said, and the affection in his voice warmed her more than any fire or blanket ever could have. Her eyes shut as his arms went around her and pulled her close, their baby breathing peacefully and steadily between them. "Oh, Teresa, you are my world," he whispered into her hair. She sighed happily in response.
Outside, the snow continued to fall.
The End