This was just a plot bunny that metastasized into a sort of angsty one-shot. Just as a warning in this story Marcus and Lisbon have married. Of course, Jane's feelings haven't changed.
Please enjoy and be sure to let me know what you think! - Whip-poor-will-not
It was 3 a.m. when Jane received the call. He blindly pawed for the cellphone on the night stand, groaning as his eyes adjusted just enough to read the caller I.D. Just for a second he considered not answering. He could just pretend he didn't hear it and they'd brief him in the morning. But with a sigh he tapped the answer button and exhaled heavily.
"Whoever died better be very important for you to call me at this hour, Agent Fischer"
Rather than the clipped, bossy response he expected there was a loud, shaky intake of breath. In that heartbeat of silence, Jane's heart plummeted. "What happened? What's wrong?"
"Patrick, you need to come in."
"What happened?"
"I can't—I don't want to tell you over the phone. I'm sending Cho to come pick you up." The control she was trying to exert over her voice only made it sound more brittle. She was on the verge of tears.
"Kim, please just tell me what's going on." His mind was racing, sorting through the most plausible scenarios for why she would be calling him in this manner so late at night. None of them were good.
Fischer hesitated for a moment. Then; "Patrick, I'm so, so sorry."
In that instance he knew. "What happened to her? Is she alright?"
"There was a car crash…she and Marcus. They didn't….they didn't make it." Her voice hitched in a sob.
Jane stared at the ceiling in the darkness, hollowness spreading throughout his body. It was like he was floating, suspended and numb. He barely registered Fischer telling him that Cho was on his way and that he should stay put until then. He just lay there, his mind refusing to accept anything.
She was alive. She had to be. Fischer had a made a horrible, horrible mistake.
Lisbon couldn't be dead.
"Patrick? Patrick, are you there?" Fischer's voice continued to call plaintively from his clenched hand.
He threw the phone across the room.
Jane had stopped believing in a heavenly power a long time ago, but Lisbon's death only cemented his beliefs (or lack thereof). There was no reason, no justice in this world. Teresa Lisbon, his best friend and the love of his life killed in head-on collision. Her body thrown from the car, lifeless when the EMT's arrived. Marcus had managed to stay with them a little bit longer, but the bleeding was too extensive.
The driver of the oncoming car had fallen asleep at the wheel for a couple seconds and bam. Everything Jane had loved was gone. Just like that.
The world wasn't fair.
"Uncle Patty?" Beside him was a small boy, cradling an enormous bouquet of lilies. He looked up at Jane, his little frown simultaneously breaking and swelling his heart. While Dean inherited his father's facial features he had her big beautiful eyes and thick black hair. "What do I do with these?"
"Glad you asked my boy. Here—" They separated the lilies together, filling the vases on either side of the headstones. "There," Jane brushed his hands together, faking an air of satisfaction. "That should do it."
Dean studied the headstones. "Do you think they'll like them?"
"Of course. You chose them specially didn't you?"
The little boy didn't look convinced. "Yeeahh…" Jane grinned despite himself. Dean also inherited some of that trademark skepticism. He reached for Jane, slipping his small hand into his bigger one. "I miss them." He whispered.
Jane bite back the lump gather in his throat with immense difficultly. "I know, kid. I do too." He said hoarsely. "They loved you very much."
"That's why they gave me to you, right?"
Jane laughed.
He'd been a fucking wreck. Something had died inside him that night. Like a zombie he had gone through the motions, trying not to acknowledge or feel. It wasn't until the lawyer cornered him and stuffed a packet of papers into his hands that the real world began to break through.
"Could you repeat that?"
The lawyer looked irritated. "I asked if you were aware that Teresa and Marcus designated you as guardian of their son?"
He'd stared at him in horror. "I don't…what?"
Sighing, the lawyer held up the paper "It reads and I repeat 'I hereby entrust the care of my son Dean to Patrick Jane, my trusted friend and partner in the event that Marcus and I are not able to take care of him. I trust Patrick Jane to raise my son as I would; with love and intention of making him as well-adjusted a human being as possible. But I swear to God if he joins the carnival circuit I will come down from Heaven to kick your ass."
"She wants me to raise Dean?" Jane asked desperately. "What about her brother's? What about Marcus' family?"
"Teresa insisted that you would be listed as the guardian." Eyeing him, the lawyer tucked the paper back under his arm. "If you refuse we can start looking for other relatives that might be willing to take in the boy."
"I think that would be best." Jane said levelly.
That night he'd laid there, twisting a bottle of sleeping aids in between his fingers. He'd made the right choice, he decided. After all, he didn't plan on being around much longer. He shook the bottle, satisfied by the sound of more than enough pills rattling around inside. Besides, even if he decided to stay the boy deserved better than some broken charlatan for a guardian. What the hell was Lisbon thinking when she wrote that will? How the hell did Marcus ever agree to that?
Unbidden, her words came back;
I trust Patrick Jane…trusted friend and partner….raise him as I would…
Before Dean was born Lisbon had voiced her concerns to Jane. She'd grown up with the loss of her mother at an early age and the backlash of her grieving, alcoholic father. There was no way Dean was going to experience the same thing. Not ever. She was going to give him the childhood she'd never had. At the time he thought he would implode with jealousy. Marcus was a lucky bastard. The way Lisbon had pressed her palms gently to her swollen stomach, filled with so much happiness and anticipation…
Tears began sliding down his cheeks. This was her last request and a part of him knew he couldn't refuse it. It would be a betrayal of their friendship, of everything they had ever had, of everything she had ever meant to him.
Furious with himself he flushed the pills and with trembling fingers picked up his phone to make the call.
"You know what I want?" Dean zigzagged through the headstones, grinning broadly.
He trailed along behind. "Hmmm….let me guess. Brussels sprouts? A bag of steamed vegetables?"
Dean shrieked in horror. "EWWW! What, no!"
"My bad, my bad." Jane fished the car keys out of his pocket. "Ummm….a big bottle of cough syrup?"
The boy wailed again.
"Surely you don't want ice cream."
"Yessss! Ice cream!" Dean wiggled ecstatically as his guardian wrestled him into his car seat. "Canwecanwecanwe?"
The memory of a shared sundae in that roof café looking out over the city of Sacramento flashed through Jane's mind. His glib response to Lisbon's question. 'When you're dead, you're dead but until then there's ice cream,' he'd told her.
Smiling sadly, Jane ruffled Dean's dark hair. "Sure. That sounds fun."
The responding 100-watt grin and whoop of pure joy made him press a kiss into the boy's ruffled hair. Teresa never stopped saving him, even in death. She continued to give him a reason to live—he could never repay her for that…but the least he could do was try.