Somewhere in Between

by YulianaHenderson

'He awoke her probably without even thinking about it, just stealing his well-deserved morning kiss, and he remained seated on the edge of the bed to look at her slowly conquering sleep. She felt his soft hand against her cheek.' Jisbon. Warning: major character death! Mostly Angst and Hurt/Comfort with some Family and a little bit of romance in the mix. Quite dark, tho.

A/N: Hey you guuuys! I've been working on this story for far longer than I'd like to admit - really, four months, actually. And you know how I get when a story becomes my baby: I have trouble publishing it. So, please be nice to it, there's a lot of love in there...

Anyway, before I started writing this fic, I was re-reading some of my old stories (very narcissistic, I know) and I read Still Falling for You, and it inspired me to make this fic. If you still remember, that story was about Lisbon dying and Jane trying to deal with her death. Alas, in this current story, Jane dies and we see Lisbon trying to deal with his death. I hope it's just the right amount of Angst and hope.

Warning: there are definitely some topics in here that could be found as triggering. Just be warned, I don't want any of you to get hurt.

Title taken from the song with the similar name by August Wilhelmsson. That song is just too beautiful and it inspired a great many scenes from this story, so it only seemed fitting to name it that.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.

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'Somewhere in Between'

He awoke her probably without even thinking about it, just stealing his well-deserved morning kiss, and he remained seated on the edge of the bed to look at her slowly conquering sleep. She felt his soft hand against her cheek, so calm and gentle.

"I wanted to see you before I went to work," he whispered.

"You could have let me sleep," she half-heartedly complained. She would have sat up, but she really couldn't in this predicament. She hadn't even had coffee yet.

"I know. But at least now I can tell you how much I love you."

She smiled, closing her eyes in her tiredness, and soon felt his lips against hers. Soft, soft lips. The lips of the first and final man she would ever love this deeply, on such a level, that it consumed her in her worst moments, filled her with courage and strength when she couldn't go any further. It were always due to what he called 'first world problems', but luckily they didn't meet much other perils.

"I love you, too," she whispered. "Enjoy your day at work."

"I'm gonna need it." They both chuckled, and she fought the urge to just pull him into their bed, wrap her arms around him tightly and not let him go for the rest of the day. But she knew he needed to leave - they needed some extra money for the renovation of their dream cabin. "Don't you dare drink coffee while I'm gone."

"I don't know what you think I do when you're gone."

"I can see you secretly catching up on that horrible coffee need while I'm not looking. If our baby is born as a little firecracker, I know who to blame."

"Ha ha." She kissed him again, her hands in the back of his neck. She had to admit, she was trying to get him back in bed, but she knew he wouldn't give in. Couldn't blame her for trying, though.

"I'll see you tonight. Be home safe."

He nodded and kissed her once more, before leaving the room.

She sighed and covered herself with the warm comforter. If only Jane had made installing central heating a priority instead of a modern, state-of-the-art kitchen they really didn't need.

~...~

She went about the rest of her day without doing a lot. It was a Saturday, and just because Jane had work didn't mean that she had to work, too. She did clean their place a little, for as much that was possible, considering most of their cabin was still a construction site.

Someone interrupted her cleaning by calling her, and she got a little grumpy. When she had been a team leader, she had expected work calls in the weekends, but now that she was a regular member of the team, in no managing position, she thought she could put it behind her. Especially since Cho had told her to take the weekend for herself and not come in at all, not even if they were pleading with her.

"Lisbon."

It remained quiet for a while on the other side, and it made her even madder. Well, out with it!

"I'm sorry to call you, Teresa…" she heard Cho's voice, but it resembled nothing of the voice she heard on a daily basis, the voice she had grown so accustomed to during their endless acquaintance. And he had used her first name. He never used her first name.

She sat down in his next silence, subconsciously placing a hand on her slightly swollen belly, as though it would shield her yet unborn baby from terrible news she knew she would receive.

"Teresa, I-"

"Don't." Her grumpy mood had dissolved into something much more painful, something that was slowly consuming her insides, something that was threatening to blow out the light inside of her that she had so carefully but desperately kept alive for all these years. She really hoped her gut feeling was wrong, but it hardly was.

"If you want to, you can see him."

"How is he? Is he okay?"

He didn't respond and she was quickly starting to hate his guts. Why couldn't he just tell her how Jane was?

"There was a robbery, and, uh… apparently he tried to be a hero, but… they shot him."

Her heart dropped, her muscles tense, and she felt like she could cry, but she had to know more information.

"I want to see him."

"You can't drive like this. I'll send someone to pick you up."

"Dammit, Cho, I know how to drive-"

"No. I'll send someone to pick you up."

She got silent. He was insistent, and sure, he often was, but there was something about his voice that displeased her.

"Kimball… how is he?"

"It's not good. Honestly… he's fighting for his life here."

"I need to be there." She lowered her head and took in a deep breath. She was shaking all of a sudden, scared beyond words to carry on, but she knew she had to try everything she could to save her husband, the father of her child. He couldn't die on her. He had promised.

She heard knocks on the door and opened almost immediately, finding Wylie awaiting her. She tried desperately to read him, to judge if he knew anything of the situation, but it was soon visible that he knew just as much as she did.

"I'll see you in a bit," Cho told her, and she heard it as though from a far away distance, as though the call had been on speakerphone and she had thrown the phone across the room - maybe she had.

"Tell him I love him," she whispered, and disconnected the phone, lowering her hands and looking at Wylie once more.

She didn't say anything on her way to the supermarket, wasn't even sure she felt anything at all. Her day had turned from a normal, quite boring day, into possibly the worst nightmare imaginable.

Arriving at the scene, it was very clear to her that this wasn't one of his jokes, but this was real, and perhaps she'd known it to be real but she hadn't wanted to admit to that. She wanted to believe that he was pulling a joke on her, but then again, she realized he would never joke about a situation like this.

Cho met her halfway but she pushed past him, past all the paramedics who were all trying to keep her away, but something inside of her gave her the power of a thousand men, and effortlessly she dodged everybody and everything.

There, on a stretcher, was the truth no one had had the guts to tell her, the truth she had so wished wasn't real but couldn't avoid anymore.

He was covered in blood, but no paramedic was attending him, which confirmed things to her. Slowly stepping towards him, she then quickly grabbed his hand, hoping to get him to respond, to get a smile out of him, that smile she had fallen in love with so deeply, but she got nothing. Not even the rising of his chest.

"Jane?" she whispered, hovering over his face, and she felt the need to clean his face, rid him of that blood there, and that was when she realized that he wasn't at all responding. Please, don't leave me. I can't live without you. Please don't do this to me.

A paramedic passed her and Lisbon grabbed his arm. "You have to help him. He can't die."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. It's too late. He died, unfortunately."

She felt her entire world slamming into her chest, the ground beneath her quickly falling apart, sucking her up into the deep, dark pits of hell. She wanted to scream, cry, hit someone, anyone, anything to rid herself of this feeling of utter despair, anger, fear, disbelief. Yet all she could do was stand as if she was frozen to the ground.

This couldn't be happening! What would she do without him? She would cease to exist, without his smile to light up her life, without his sweet words cheering her up… without his presence beside her, she couldn't live.

Paramedics covered Jane and moved him away, and she saw her future flash before her, a future without him - she sank to the floor and let out a scream that nobody from her team would ever forget for the rest of their lives.

~...~

Even breathing seemed like too much, she had never felt something like this, nothing mattered, nothing at all.

Someone handed her something to drink, and she took it, not wanting to be rude. She knew she wouldn't drink it anyway.

"You have to drink something, Lisbon," she heard Grace van Pelt whisper, mindful of everybody's headache. A gentle hand rested on her arm.

"What's the point?"

She looked at Grace, finding tears in the poor woman's eyes, but it didn't really matter.

"I know it's hard," Grace whispered, "but you still have your baby to think about. We'll get through this together. I'll pull you through. But you have to drink."

Grace was right. On top of losing Jane, she would lose herself entirely if she lost her baby. Not that she wasn't lost already.

So with tears in her eyes, she fulfilled the only thing that made her human now.

She saw Grace lower her head, and through her own misery, Lisbon felt her motherly instincts setting in. Opening her arms for the young woman, she stayed quiet as Grace cried in her arms.

She couldn't cry herself, but she didn't know why. Her husband had just died, so if anyone was allowed to cry, it was her. Right?

~...~

She was very aware of her surroundings, noticed that everybody was crying and being sad in general, but she didn't feel anything at all.

She had to arrange a funeral, but all she wanted to do was curl into a ball in bed and just sleep, preferably forever. She would burn in hell for thinking this, but at that moment she didn't care for anything, not even her unborn baby. Why would they get to live but not Jane? What could a life without Jane possibly be like? She had to raise their baby all on her own.

She sighed. She couldn't do this. If only she could fall asleep and wake up one week before, so she could keep him in her arms for longer, so he wouldn't be in the line of fire.

She had always thought that it would be her who would die first, due to her work, so she had never prepared herself for this. She didn't even know what this was - was this grief? She was numb now.

"Teresa?" someone asked her. It was probably Grace - said woman hadn't left her side since they had been reunited at the crime scene. "Do you want someone to come home with you?"

Home. It had only been home because Jane had been there, because the divine scents his cooking set off filled all the spaces, even the tiny ones; because he was there awaiting her on her bad days, as though he had sensed before she had come home that she would be in a bad mood.

She had to go back there now, where he had kissed her goodbye that same morning, where he had been just hours before. She wanted to be alone, but she knew she couldn't possibly live with the idea that she was alone at night.

"Yes."

She saw Grace nodded from the corner of her eyes. "Alright. I'll call Wayne so he can bring my stuff over."

Whatever. At least Grace still had a husband.

~...~

Grace left her alone for most of the time, not engaging in conversation with Lisbon unless she wanted to. But even though Lisbon wouldn't admit it out loud, she was glad that she wasn't alone.

Grace took her place on the couch and they said their good nights, but when Lisbon entered the bedroom, she felt sadness wash over her again.

"Close your eyes."

"I might still look."

He sighed but there was a smile on his lips. "Don't be such a spoilsport, Lisbon. Just close your eyes."

She nodded and did what he asked her, and she felt one of his hands on her back, pushing her forward. After a couple of steps, he took away his hand.

"Okay, you can look."

So she did. And she was met by the most perfect bedroom she could have ever wished for or dreamed of.

"Jane, this is-"

"Barely enough for my beautiful pregnant wife, but I hope due to the limited space, you'll cut me some slack."

She smiled and stepped towards him, wrapping her arms tightly around him, and he soon returned her smile.

"It's beautiful," she whispered. "But you're right. The bed is barely adequate."

He chuckled when she raised both her eyebrows, and he pushed her towards the bed, where he showed her exactly how big the bed was.

"Come," Grace's gentle voice interrupted Lisbon's thoughts. She looked at the younger woman, who seemed tired and devastated, just like Lisbon. "Let's get you settled in on the couch."

Lisbon shook her head. "No, I can't ask you to sleep on the floor. You're my guest. I just need to get over myself."

Now it was Grace's turn to shake her head. "Your husband died today, Teresa. You don't have to pretend like nothing happened. Please, at least take this one night to grieve and cry. You'll thank me later."

Grace grabbed some pillows so Lisbon's belly was properly supported on the couch, even though it wasn't that big yet. Grace wanted to make sure that she was okay, but eventually realized that Lisbon wouldn't settle down.

Only when Grace was fully asleep on her thin inflatable mattress did Lisbon allow herself to cry.

He was gone. She wanted to be in that denial phase, still not accepting his death, and in a way she didn't, but she knew he wouldn't come back to her. Even if a part of her wanted to believe in a miracle… he was gone. And now, their little one had to grow up without ever having known their father.

Gentle arms wrapped around her and she let go completely. She wasn't strong, even though everybody always said so. How could she ever live with this insurmountable grief, this suffocating sadness?

"It hurts so much," Lisbon half sobbed, half whispered, "and yet I don't know what to feel. I'm so scared. I keep catching myself wanting to call him, text him, to ask what I should do, because that is what I have done for so many years. But… then I am reminded of… what I saw… this morning… I don't want to arrange a funeral. I don't want this to be… definite. I don't want to agree… to a life without him."

Grace pulled her head back a little to look her in the eye. Lisbon saw tears in them, much like her own, but she realized considering the circumstances, they were allowed to cry.

"You're not accepting it, though. I know it's unnatural, but… with a funeral, you can give yourself rest… respect… and also prove that Jane was the most interesting, most amazing human being we've had the pleasure of knowing."

Lisbon buried her face in the crook of the woman's neck, something she had really only done with Jane when she had been upset, but she trusted Grace enough to do this. Seemed only right, after years of friendship.

"I will miss him."

Grace nodded and stroked the back of Lisbon's neck. "Quite right so."

~...~

On the day of the funeral, Lisbon felt like she was doing a little better than those days before, being able to look into a mirror again, even imitating a proper smile to her friends.

Her brothers had flown in to be there for her. She wasn't stupid - she knew they wouldn't have made the hour long trip for just anybody, so it touched her to realize that Jane had interested a part within them. If only they had been in contact more often.

She had always been a religious person, if the cross pendant around her neck could be of any indication, but she didn't really believe in her God now. He had helped her through so many trying times, but she couldn't muster the faith to consult Him on this matter. If He was so mighty in power and love, why had He taken Jane from her? She had fought so hard to get him in her life, had prayed for years for Jane to be safe, and yet God had betrayed her trust so cruelly. What was so just in taking a man's life who had only just found it, had secured himself a place in society he was happy with? It wasn't fair.

When she saw no one was looking, she took off her necklace. It had her mother's cross on it, and Jane's old wedding ring. Perhaps hanging around her neck was a certain road to death, for both her mother and her husband were gone now.

"Now I would like to invite to the altar, Patrick's widow, Teresa Lisbon."

She swallowed and put her necklace in the pocket of her black dress. A dress. Jane would be proud of her, and yet she felt like it wasn't worth it anymore. He wasn't there to smile at her, to kiss her cheek, to tell her that even though she would never believe him, he thought she was beautiful.

She reached the microphone and looked over the small crowd that had gathered in the pews. Her entire team was there, as well as the new FBI team, Wylie, Abbott, and even Fischer. Her brothers were there, as were some of their children. Annabeth was smiling at Lisbon quite sympathetically. Lisbon wished for this young girl never to feel pain like this.

She hadn't wanted this god damn funeral in the first place, but Grace was right - they had to respect Jane's legacy, and to give those who wanted the time and place to grieve and talk about their pain. Not that she would be joining them, but that was beside the point.

She could sense they were waiting for wise words, but that wasn't her. That part had always belonged to Jane, who was an excellent public speaker and always knew exactly what the crowd wanted to hear. Well... perhaps she did have an inkling of what they wanted to hear.

"Not his widow… his wife."

~...~

"Are you sure you want to be alone tonight?" Grace asked her, her kind voice overlapping the overwhelming grief Lisbon could hear in her voice.

Lisbon nodded.

"Okay, well, if you need anything, or someone to talk to, you know where to find me. Doesn't need to be me. Could be anybody. Just… don't do anything rash. And sleep well."

Lisbon wouldn't have admitted it in any other situation, but she appreciated that Grace was a mom. Not her mom, but a mom nonetheless - if anybody would help her no matter what time of day, no matter the weather, it was probably Grace.

She was dropped off by Wayne and Grace, nobody really trusting what Lisbon would do if she were to drive herself, and hesitated when she arrived at the front door.

He hadn't been able to stop touching her, and she knew it was only temporary, the fresh news of his approaching fatherhood putting him on cloud nine. She was too, if she could be honest with herself, to imagine that she was the one who could make him a father again, that they had been blessed with a miracle like this, after everything they had had to endure.

"Abbott sure showed off his dancing skills," Lisbon joked as they approached the front door. He smiled and nodded. Something about the look in his eyes made her realize she was in for a hell of a night.

Suddenly, his arms were underneath her, lifting her into the air, and he smiled at her as he carried her over the threshold to their cabin - a cabin which was still pretty much empty, but would hopefully soon be the house she had never dared dream of.

"I can't believe that you're my wife," he whispered, putting her down somewhere where there kitchen would eventually be. "I can't believe that you're pregnant."

"Neither can I." She pulled his head down so she could kiss him, and his arms wrapped around her almost on instinct. He knew how to love her, even after almost a lifetime of not being loved. She was safe and warm in his arms. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

He picked her up once more, only this time he carried her to the space she knew was their future bedroom. He put her down and left her, briefly, and she took the time to look at the room - while the room had been empty before, she was met by dozens of candles spread out all over the room, and a comfy looking mattress right in the middle of it all. There was something about a fire hazard that tickled her mind, but she didn't have much time to think about it, for she felt the strong arms of her husband wrap around her from behind, his soft and warm lips in her neck.

"I wanted to make this special," he whispered. "I know an over-the-top honeymoon is out of the question for you, because you would complain the entire time about how expensive and unnecessary it all was. So… this is my little gift to you. It might not be the wedding night you always dreamed of, but I really tried my best. And… I love you."

"This is wonderful, Patrick," she whispered, turning in his arms and kissing him again. "I love it so much. And you know me so well. You are all I need."

She sighed and opened the door, looking at the threshold wistfully for some reason, and closed the door behind her. She closed her eyes, scared of what she would find right in front of her. She knew what - Jane had been working on this cabin since the day he had bought it, and now, months later, he had still been as passionate about it as back then. His heart and soul were poured into this cabin, so she knew she would be faced with… him.

She would give herself some proper rest first. She wasn't ready to look, to be reminded of him, so she almost blindly walked towards their bedroom, not bothering to brush her teeth or clean herself up. Just barely reminding herself that sleeping in her fancy clothing wouldn't be too comfortable, she changed into her pajamas and slipped into bed.

It's just a bed, Teresa Lisbon. Sure, you shared it with Patrick Jane, but you have it all to yourself now. Looking to her side, she realized this bed was way too big for just one person, and she was cold and lonely, but she closed her eyes and put on her brave mask.

She would do this for herself, and for the growing baby in her belly. She needed sleep.

~...~

She wasn't surprised at all that she couldn't sleep even for one minute. It wasn't that she wasn't tired, because she was - she just couldn't accept that this house would not be filled with his presence anymore.

So she got up sometime around midnight and did what she had dreaded since stepping inside - she looked around. Sat on the couch, looked at the countless of boxes that still needed to be opened and its contents distributed around the place. Oddly enough, she could still smell him, even though it was faint.

She opened the fridge, saw some leftovers that were probably not okay to eat anymore, but she figured she didn't have anything to lose. He had cooked this, she could tell.

Unsurprisingly, all of his stuff was still where he had left it that fateful morning. She couldn't resist picking up his aftershave, and felt a fresh bout of sadness wash over her when the scent that so described him hit her nostrils. She couldn't help herself from taking one of his shirts with her into bed when dawn neared, and pressed it against her face, nuzzling her nose against the fabric, as though it were his arm or chest that she would kiss.

She couldn't live without him. She had to, but she couldn't. So perhaps she had to accept to continue as an empty shell without any feelings.

She finally, unfortunately, really understood what Jane had been feeling all these years.

~...~

Hours went by, which turned into days, which turned into weeks. Three weeks she'd had to miss him now, and while she had hoped that the pain would become easier to carry as time progressed, she had to admit it became more difficult with every passing day.

Wayne and Grace had temporarily moved in to a house not far from the cabin Lisbon stayed in. They claimed it had been for their own good, but Lisbon wasn't stupid - they wanted to check up on her, be her parents on this matter. She didn't like it, but she couldn't stop them from doing it.

"You do have to eat, Mrs. Jane," the doctor told her, pulling Lisbon out of her thoughts. Most of her sight was covered by dark clouds, so most of it fell away, all the unnecessary things removed before it even entered her mind. It wasn't a surprise nobody thought her fit to drive a car anymore. "You might risk losing the baby."

What did it even matter? If she couldn't have Jane by her side to love and cherish their child, why would she even bother trying it out? She didn't want to be a single mom. She didn't want their child to never have known Patrick Jane. She didn't want to be alone for the rest of her life.

"At your age, and no disrespect is meant, Mrs. Jane, but… it might be difficult to conceive again."

She realized she must have said some of her thoughts out loud, or otherwise the doctor wouldn't bring up that topic like this.

She wouldn't conceive a child ever again. She knew that. After this baby, if she could even get herself to deliver this baby, she would never get a chance to be pregnant again. Yet still, all of this information did little to move her away from her current path of self-destruction.

It really didn't matter anymore. Why bother?

~...~

Kimball Cho had, albeit reluctantly, moved in with her. Lisbon knew it had been Grace's doing, but she was too tired to argue with any of them.

He was a nuisance, an annoyance, a pain in the ass. He made her breakfast, lunch, dinner, forced her to go for walks with him, talked to her about their 'feelings'. He treated her like a little girl.

He wasn't this type of person. He never talked about his feelings, and especially not to her. And anyway, her feelings were no secret to anybody - she was grieving. She probably would be grieving until the end of her days. Perhaps she should buy a baggy, ugly old black dress, adopt a bunch of cats and live as a spinster from that day forward.

"How's the baby doing?"

"I dunno."

He reached for the medical papers she had been handed during her countless consultations with her doctor, and looked them over. After a few minutes, he looked at her, with that annoying judgy look he had bestowed upon her for so many times since he had started living with her.

"This isn't good."

"I don't care."

"Don't you, though? This baby is the last memory of him you'll ever get. Do you really want to throw that away so easily?"

"I don't care."

"That all you can say these days? You really are so desperate about losing this baby? Because then, for your own sake, please terminate your pregnancy. So you won't put your child through the same lonely, cold death you'll be awaiting."

"That's not fair!"

"It isn't? Jane isn't coming back, Lisbon, you know that as well as I do. I know you want to be a mother, so I'm talking to that side of you now. Your baby still wants to be born, no matter what happened. Your baby won't care that they won't have a father - they'll have you. Despite what you're thinking now, you'll be a perfect mother."

"It isn't worth it if he's not here."

"But there is nothing we can change about that. Nothing at all." He sighed, took in a deep breath. She had never seen him like this, and a part of her wondered if this had been Grace's doing, too. But she knew Cho wouldn't allow anyone to manipulate him like that - no, these words, these feelings, came from himself. It must mean a lot to him to speak these words. "Think about what you're doing to yourself. We'll lose you, too. We can't live like that, Teresa."

It touched her that her friends thought like this, but at the same time his words made her angry - did anybody factor in her wants and needs? Had anybody realized what she felt, was feeling?

~...~

She reminded herself of her father in these days, dozens of empty liquor bottles scattered around her place, falling out to anybody who was trying to help her. She had always told herself no matter what happened, she wouldn't turn into him, yet the sweet taste of alcohol on her taste buds had managed to numb some of the pain she had been feeling. After several drinks, she always felt better, lighter, like she could face the entire world.

She wanted her friends to help her, but at the same time she knew they couldn't. The only way for her to be helped was if Jane returned to her life, but that was something nobody could do. So eventually Cho had given up, and she had truly appreciated his efforts, but it had not managed to chase away the dark clouds in her life.

She was just opening her fourth bottle of that morning when she was interrupted by an intense pain in her abdomen. For a second, she welcomed the physical pain as opposed to the mental pain she had been under for weeks now, but she soon realized even through her dazed state of mind that this didn't mean anything good.

She got on the phone with Grace, knowing that woman was the first who would arrive even if she called her last. Unsurprisingly, she was at Lisbon's doorstep in minutes, knocking the door down in her haste to get to her. Grace looked briefly at the bottles around her, then focused on Lisbon.

"Where does it hurt?"

Another bout of pain, this time spreading all over her body, pulling her shoulders forward, and making her intoxicated state disappear into thin air.

"Everywhere," she managed to breathe, and Grace acted immediately, checking Lisbon's forehead, belly, and eventually she pushed Lisbon's knees apart to reveal…

Lisbon's heart stopped beating in her chest. She knew in that moment, even without medical consultation, that what everybody had warned her about, had happened. She had lost the one thing that might have fixed her, that might have enabled her to keep going, find a new purpose in life, even if it would be a lonely one. Everything was clear to her in that moment, but it was too late.

She had lost him once again. The last living memory of him. Gone.

~...~

Grace didn't let go of Lisbon's hand, even if she asked her to, but Lisbon was still drunk and Grace had often been the wisest of the two.

"Grace," Lisbon whispered, the movement of her lips cracking the dry skin there, but she didn't flinch, instead accepted the pain, her punishment. "I need help. Please help me."

Grace nodded, brushing Lisbon's cheek. "Okay. How can I help?"

She honestly didn't know. But she had to stop drinking, that was her first priority. Beyond that, she had no clue.

"I know a rehab center not far from here. We can still visit you, if you want us to."

"That would be nice."

Grace closed her eyes, but Lisbon chose to look at the woman, instead. She saw how much she had hurt her, she saw it all. Of course, Grace was a young mother, but she had never had those dark circles under her eyes, not even when little Maddie had only just been born. Lisbon had always had immense respect for Grace, not complaining once, soldiering on, and it never looked as though she minded. She probably didn't.

"I love you," Lisbon heard herself whisper, and it was the first time she had said those words since that one morning, when he had left her arms and her life for good. She had always meant to tell Grace those words, but had never found the right moment for it. She figured this was as good a time as any.

~...~

Physically, she had never felt so bad in her entire life. Fuck her abusive father, fuck her rigorous police training - swearing off alcohol once and for all after being so dependant on it during her time of grieving was the most difficult thing she had done. Ever.

It meant she wouldn't have an easy refuge from the pain. She would have to face the lonely, painful nights in the cabin sober. She had no idea how she would do that, but she would find a way.

Her empty belly probably hurt the most, yet not in a physical sense. Her mourning her husband had been replaced by mourning her unborn baby, who, if they had been born, could have had a chance of life at 24 weeks. She was a worthless mother, and she had to live with this for the rest of her life.

She felt ashamed. Her miscarriage could have been prevented so easily if she had just listened to her friends. But she had been stubborn, had claimed that she could face her pain without them, and so they had pulled their hands back from the situation, had let her face those demons on her own. She never should have let them.

She had seen her baby, too. She had insisted on the matter. She had refused herself from seeing Jane in his coffin, reminding herself of the trauma looking at her deceased mother had brought her, so she wanted to see her baby. Defying everybody who was only trying to help her, she had named her baby, too - George Patrick Jane. He was so tiny, but everything had been there, ten fingers, ten toes, and eyes she would never have the pleasure of meeting.

He had been with her all these months, from the first moment he had been conceived, to those late nights Jane had kissed her belly, saying words of love to it, hoping that maybe their baby would hear. She liked to believe that he had, and that those words had made him pull through, even though Jane's sweet words had disappeared, and even though her awful lifestyle had slowly killed him.

She doubled over but fought back the urge to throw up. She had spent weeks blaming herself for Jane's death - what if she had made him stay in bed a little longer? What if she had told him one more time that she loved him? He could still be alive. But she had realized eventually that though she liked to believe so, there was nothing she could have done to prevent her life from turning upside down.

But this death… this was all her doing. It was her fault. She couldn't live with this guilt, but she had to.

~...~

She was gradually doing better as the alcohol left her body, but with that came the increased realization that while she had company before, in the form of her unborn baby in her belly, she was actually alone now. As opposed to her loss of Jane, she did get proper help this time around in the form of a therapist, and she used the opportunity to find a place for both the losses, something the kind old man was only happy to provide to her.

She welcomed her friends back into her life, after they had made the wise decision to step back for a while as she was staying in the center. They wouldn't, couldn't, have made the situation any better, and everybody involved knew it. But now she was nominated to be released, so she allowed herself to have her friends over, if they wanted to. And they did.

Grace gave her a warm hug when they reunited after all those weeks, and Lisbon could read hope in those amber eyes. Lisbon did have faith that she would be better off this time around, even if she felt emptier now than she was before.

The first few days following her release, Grace stuck around the cabin, not always entering, just making sure Lisbon didn't have a relapse. She didn't have to, though. Lisbon had made herself promise never to touch alcohol ever again. And she did mean it this time.

After a while, however, Grace realized that Lisbon really was doing much better, and the first night Lisbon was truly alone in her bedroom, she buried her face into his shirt once more, only she found that the scent had more or less left the fabric. She sighed, took in a deep breath, but then let go of the tears she had been holding in for so long. It felt good, too, to finally let go. She wasn't strong, but she would be soon. She would never be able to live without Patrick Jane, or little George, but she would have to try. She owed that much to herself.

~...~

She wanted to be a mother. She knew she would take good care of herself this time around. She couldn't stand a second time of that awful, numbing pain she had felt when she had lost George.

Grace had helped her look for possible solutions to this problem, but every single option seemed like the complete opposite of what Lisbon wanted and needed.

She wanted a child of Patrick Jane. She knew she didn't need to settle for anything less, but it would render her childless for the rest of her life.

Well, she could always babysit her friends' kids.

~...~

Three months later

She was cleaning up their cabin, boxing every precious memory of Jane for future use, and thrashing everything she knew was useless or pointless. There was no need for her to keep his toothbrush, but his aftershave was definitely something she would keep forever. Maybe she needed to think about buying some bottles in bulk, so she would never have to fear that they would be pulled from the collection.

She found her old box full of his letters, and was instantly pulled back to a time when she had been lonely, too, but she had had his words to cheer her up. She remembered how she had spent entire evenings reading his letters, imagining his voice, remembering his face. After two years, she should have forgotten what he looked like precisely, but when he returned from his absence, she was satisfied to learn that he looked exactly as she had remembered him. She had known in that moment that she was in love with him, and never would feel anything less than that.

She sat down on the couch, and instinctively reached for the glass of wine that wasn't there and never would again. With the box full of warm words and memories in her lap, she started reading.

"Dear Lisbon.

I hope this finds you well. All is well here. I have my routines. Weather's finally turned. It's a little cooler, far from cold. But the ocean's still warm. And with the warm motion currents comes an abundance of sea life. Just yesterday I watched a pod of dolphins play so close to shore I could almost touch them. They're the kind of things I think you'd enjoy."

She smiled and held the letter to her face. She always imagined him drinking his usual tea as he wrote these letters to her, his skin tan, a developing beard on his chin and cheeks. She would never know if he wrote them out of love, whether his absence had made him realize as well that he was in love with her, or if he just wrote them to keep busy, and to keep his best friend from worrying too much about his well being.

She hoped it was the last, and with his never-ending love that she had received since they had declared their feelings, she sort of had an inkling it definitely was the first one. She had always been too afraid to confront him though, and really, what would have been the point? The letters were obviously written out of love, whether it was a platonic or romantic love really didn't matter. She had appreciated, cherished, these small looks into his life. And he had apologized for a lot of things he had done in the past to hurt her, so that was an added bonus.

She wasn't surprised by any tears anymore, as she had let go of that tough and miserable facade when she had admitted herself into rehab, so when she saw a tear fall down onto the letter, she just sighed and brushed any remaining tears away. When she went to dry the letter, she suddenly noticed there was a letter in the box that was very different from all the other ones, and she didn't recognize it either, which was odd because she had read all of these letters at least a dozen times.

She put the box on the couch beside her while taking out the unknown letter. It looked to be some kind of medical letter, and upon inspection she found the words 'Austin Fertility Center' on the front in nice, curly letters. It was addressed to him.

A fertility center? But as far as she knew, they hadn't had any problems with infertility, or at least, he hadn't told her anything of the likes. After all, she had gotten pregnant without any outside interference, hadn't she?

She hesitated to open the letter, but realized that she had all right to, and he wouldn't be there to scold her for opening his mail anyway. Her hands had started shaking somewhere in the process though, because she was scared to find out exactly what this center had to tell him, and why this letter had been with Jane's letters.

Quickly scanning the letter, she found her view blurring with unshed tears, her hands shaking uncontrollably, and her heart warmed with a love she hadn't felt in ages, not since he had died. A little note obviously supposed to accompany the letter was also in the box, and his handwriting flashed before her eyes when she picked it up.

"My dearest Teresa,

I don't know where we are when you will open this box. I don't know if you ever will. I don't even know why I'm placing this letter here, of all places, but I have a feeling it will get back to you soon enough in this way.

I know how much you want to be a mother, and I wish I could give you ten beautiful children, if it was only physically possible. Yet we aren't eighteen anymore, and I don't want my years-long fear to give in to my love for you to hold you back from having that big family you always dreamed of. I got you pregnant once, but we don't know if it will be so easy a second time around. So please, if it's still possible, take this token of my love, and have that big family you so deserve.

I love you. You have no idea how much.

Your Patrick.

PS.: If you haven't gathered the meaning by now: yes, I've frozen some of my sperm. The good stuff, trust me.

PPS: Yes, that was a crude thing to say.

PPPS: No, I don't regret doing this whole thing in the slightest."

It had become difficult to read the last part, as tears were falling freely from her eyes, but she realized eventually that these weren't necessarily sad tears. Sure, she missed him, like she had every single day since his death, but this letter had made her remember his beauty, his voice, his smile, the way his eyes would twinkle if he saw her. The way he would pretend to suppress his smile when they kissed, only to break into the biggest grin ever when they parted. How his fingers would often trace a trail down her spine, her arms, until they reunited at her belly, whispering those infamous words of love to their child.

"Oh god," she sobbed. She fell back against the armrest and hugged the letter close to her chest. "I love you, Patrick Jane."

Now more than ever.

~...~

It did Lisbon well that Grace cried as well after finding out about this turn of events, and it comforted her that she had offered to come with her to the fertility center if she was ready. Which was preferably yesterday.

The receptionist smiled as they came in, and she already reached for some kind of form.

"How can I help you lovely ladies today?"

Lisbon didn't answer but instead just put the letter on the counter, and the woman frowned before reading it. When she was finished, she was still confused.

"My husband passed away a few months ago. I recently found out that he had some frozen… I was wondering what my options are."

"Oh, well, first of all, I'm very sorry for your loss. Second of all, it is going to be tough to release his sperm for use, considering he can't give his approval."

Lisbon pointed to the little note accompanying the official letter. Perhaps Jane hadn't meant for it to be like this, but that little note suddenly meant everything to her. Or, perhaps he had meant for it to be important, but he could never have expected that his life would be so abruptly ended.

"This is his approval."

The woman read the note quickly, then nodded. "I'd have to take it up with my superiors. If you please take a seat, I will be back in a moment."

Grace smiled at Lisbon. "I know I'm bad for admitting this, but… if this thing works out… it almost looks like a fairytale."

"In a fairytale, I wouldn't have to take this step in the first place. He would still be here with me."

"True. But, in a weird turn of events, you will hopefully still be able to have his baby. And I don't know, but that just seems romantic to me."

Maybe it was indeed. She really hoped they would allow her to take this step, so she could finally hold their baby in her arms.

~...~

She went out more, partly because she was bored but mostly because she just needed some fresh air. She hadn't bothered taking her old job back, as it would remind her too much of the life she would never be able to have anymore. She had once thought of going back, maybe even accepting a mercy bullet to her head, but realized soon enough she wouldn't gain anything from that prospect.

It was almost a year ago since he had died. She still couldn't believe that she'd made it this far. Not too long ago, she had wanted anything but to live, had drowned herself in alcohol, had destroyed her baby, but she couldn't deny that she was still here. Even if it still hurt to get into an empty bed.

She had thought of selling the cabin, considering she had never found time nor ideas to continue it. It was about halfway done, but it was in no way fit to live in. Perhaps she had to think about her options here. She might just hire someone to finish it for her, but then it wouldn't be their cabin anymore. They would maybe even remove some aspects of the house that he had left, even if some were accidental.

She shoved her hands in her pockets and took in a deep breath. A year. A year without his presence floating around her. She had rather quickly put back her pendants, not being able to live without the pleasant pressure of both items against her chest. She needed her mother's strength, still did. Her mother wouldn't have let herself sink so low.

She had gathered all the pictures of him she could find, on any mobile phone, heck, she had even contacted the FBI so she could get the snapshots they had made of him for his badge. She had purchased a big photo album and on one rainy Sunday, she had given everything a lovely place, all the pictures, the little notes he had left her sometimes, all the memories securely stored in one, big album. She had skimmed through the pages often since she had finished it.

Someone trying to get her attention brought her out of her thoughts, which had been pleasant, but she needed to come back down to earth, or she might just walk into traffic.

"Teresa?"

She looked up, and frowned when she saw who was standing in front of her.

"Walter Mashburn."

He smiled and kissed her cheek, his hand lingering on her arm.

"Yep, that's me. Glad you still know my name."

She rolled her eyes, and it only made his smile grow. He did know how to tease her, and it rarely failed.

"It's so great to see you! How have you been? How's Jane?"

A rush of sadness threatened to cloud her day, but she shook her hands by her side and exhaled, deeply. She had learned from her therapist not to let anybody get her down, especially not because nobody could understand what she was feeling. Some people tried, but thankfully nobody had gone through this.

"Oh. You haven't heard."

"Haven't heard what?"

She sighed and shook her head. Her hand instinctively went to her belly. "He passed away about a year ago."

He really didn't know, she could judge that by his reaction. First shock, then sorrow, and finally shame.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry."

She shrugged. "You couldn't have known. I didn't call you."

"And you had all right to. You had to focus on your loss."

She looked at his face, and even though they hadn't seen each other in years, he hadn't changed. He was still that charming man, beneath his womanizing mask still, no doubt, that little boy that he really was. He was a little boy, for he did like his cars as his toys. Her eyes traveled a little down, to his hands, where she found… nothing.

Walter Mashburn had signed up for a lonely life by treating everybody he ever met as a casual acquaintance. She had really liked him once, and she had felt that he had liked her, too, but she had never really been a big fan of one-night-stands, and he wasn't an exception.

"Still empty," he stated. He was still obviously trying to deal with that massive bomb she had just passed him, and she couldn't blame him. He had reacted like pretty much everyone else who hadn't been at Jane's funeral. Jane might not have been immortal, but his gentle and kind soul would live on forever. The fact that many people had trouble believing that he was dead was just another piece of evidence in that case.

"I'm not really looking for sympathy," she stated, rather bluntly, she knew. She had found she didn't always need to sugarcoat things, especially not when it came to her needs. It had been so difficult to talk about them since his death, but now she had gotten to a point where it was necessary for her to do what she wanted, what she needed, what she felt was best for herself. She wouldn't survive if she kept attesting to other people's needs.

"What are you looking for then, Teresa?"

"Nothing really. But… would you mind coming to my place sometime? We could catch up."

"I would love that, Teresa. How about right now?"

He was pathetic for having such an empty agenda, or perhaps he was 'so in love with her' like Jane had always said. Maybe he was, but it didn't really change anything.

~...~

They were quiet on their way to her little cabin, and it wasn't a surprise to her as she hadn't even remembered to call him after Jane had passed. Walter still insisted on being a gentleman and let her go inside first into her own home.

He looked around the place for a while, looking at the pictures on the side table, the flowers she had received in remembrance of his death, and she knew he hadn't missed the boxes that were still gathered around the house.

When he was done looking around, she couldn't stop herself anymore. She needed someone to hug, someone other than Grace, or Cho or Wayne, the latter two she barely hugged in the first place. And it felt so good to have his arms close around her, his warmth close, and she felt him smile against the side of her head.

"I don't want you to have any ideas," she whispered, still inside his arms. She pulled him even closer, needing strong arms now, she hadn't had a hug like that in… a year. "I'm not in love with you. I'm not looking for a relationship, ever. But I have been so lonely since he died, I just need some company."

He nodded and held her in his arms for a little longer. Eventually though, he pulled away, and after a few seconds, his hand wandered from her arm to her belly.

"Are you…?"

She nodded. His hand lingered, and she looked down at his hand, so big compared to hers.

"I always wondered why men's hands are always so much bigger than women's."

His hand was drawing lazy circles on her swollen belly, while his other was entwined with one of hers.

"You really want to know why?"

She rolled her eyes and looked at him, being met by a teasing grin.

"Of course you know the answer."

"Well, it's logical thinking, really. Men had to hunt, work the fields, all the heavy stuff. Women did the softer tasks, like peeling and cutting vegetables for dinner, sowing clothes, comfort the children. You can't work the field with slim piano fingers, and you can't sow a dress with sausage fingers like mine."

She chuckled. "Sausage fingers."

"It's true. Just look at them." He put their hands against each other, and she was reminded now more than ever that her hand possibly fit in his twice. "Sausage fingers."

"You're right, they're enormous." She entwined their hands once more, and leaned up to kiss him. He used his free hand to tip her chin up, brush some strands of hair out of her face, and she nearly swooned. "I love them."

"How did that happen? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you, but…"

"Jane froze his seed before his death. Total coincidence, he wanted his fertility to last. I think he might have still been reeling from the knowledge that he'd gotten me pregnant in the first place. But, it did enable me to… have his child. Some people find it crude and inappropriate. I just love the idea that I can carry this part of him with me, forever."

He huffed, and sat down on the couch, taking some time to think about what she had just said. She didn't always have a filter to prevent her from saying things people might find uncomfortable, but really, why should she hold back? She had told him nothing but the truth.

"Wait… you were pregnant before?" He looked around the room, as though he was looking for any signs of a child occupying the premises, but he would be disappointed.

She sighed and picked up her trusted photo album, skipped to the part she wanted to show him - the first and only picture she had of George.

"I miscarried. I fucking drank myself to shit, took this little guy with me. But… I learned my lesson. Never touching alcohol again, and, to appreciate the gift of life that is a pregnancy. I never had the strength of heart to realize that before it was too late. I…" She covered her belly. It was only barely swollen, she had just gotten the confirmation herself, so it had surprised her that Walter had picked up on it. Then again, maybe he had sensed it - she had read somewhere that men could tell when a woman was pregnant, sometimes even before she knew herself. "I get a second chance now. I won't screw this up."

He nodded and they fell silent again. She was about to offer him something to drink when he got up, abruptly.

"Right. You will be welcoming a little one in, let's say, seven months. Think it leaves us ample time to renovate this cabin and make it all baby-proof."

Her heart warmed, but some of his words didn't sit well with her. She wanted to swallow them, but then remembered her resolution to herself.

"No, not renovate. Finish it."

He nodded and kissed her cheek. "Of course. Finish it. We'll make it exactly like Jane would have wanted."

He stepped away from her and looked around the place, already moving some boxes to get a better look.

"You know you don't have to save yourself for me, right?" she heard a familiar voice from behind her, and she knew it wasn't really there, and yet it sounded awfully realistic. She didn't turn around, feared that if Walter would talk to her, it would make the voice disappear. "I'm not coming back. I wish I could. So you can give yourself to him, if you want to. I don't want you to be alone forever."

She shook her head, tears forming once again in her eyes. She could blame the pregnancy hormones now, but she knew she was still mourning his death. She wondered if she would ever stop.

"I love you, Teresa mine. And I'm proud of where you are."

"Thank you," she whispered, brushing her tears away, not needing anyone to see them.

Walter turned towards her, that smile she had gotten used to on his lips, and she was reminded for a few seconds of why she had chosen him, of all men to have introduced themselves to her, why it had been him she had shared that night with. She had really loved him once, but then he had left and she had been thrown back into that pond of feelings for Jane, where she would most certainly drown.

"You're kidding me, right? This is the least I could do. So, I saw that Jane has started installing pipes for central heating, I guess, which you might need with this winter coming up."

"Do you even know how to build things?"

He took a few seconds to think over his answer, but then just shrugged. "I'm sure it can't be that hard. If Jane could do it, I'm sure I could do it, too."

That was the Walter she needed. Not sugarcoating his opinions, but instead falling back on them, the two of them always making each other's life miserable. She realized they might have both been jealous, and any other woman would have appreciated that, but she didn't. Anyway, she was glad they had overcome their differences eventually and had stayed relative friends.

He approached her, and again his hand landed on her belly, but he pulled it back suddenly as if burned. "Is it okay, by the way, that I touch your belly?"

She grabbed his hand and put it back. She didn't even answer him otherwise.

"Little one, you're so lucky to have Teresa as your mother. Not just any Teresa, but this Teresa. This is a very special Teresa."

She rolled her eyes and he smiled at her, continuing his planning, and soon enough, they were making pretty firm, definite plans.

She hoped it wouldn't change the cabin too much. She had gotten used to the way it looked now, but she also had to admit that it wasn't by far child-proof. Only the best for this baby, she promised herself, because she wouldn't lose this little one.

~...~

Seven months later

She had insisted on giving birth at home, even though most people insisted on a hospital birth. She had been around enough coldness and white walls in her life to ever be found there on her own accord.

Both Walter and Grace had been sleeping in the most unreasonable places within the cabin for the past week, just so they could be there as soon as possible should labor start. Not that it would make a difference, because they just had to wait it out.

She had been having contractions for a while now, but she hid them. She knew her friends would stress out, and one of them would definitely force her to go to the hospital after all - her bet was on Grace, but Walter wasn't so unrealistic an option either.

She had even managed to hide her water breaking, because she had been in the shower, so everything was looking good on her side.

Eventually, though, she just had to retreat into her bedroom for a while, not see any of their faces around and just be alone with her thoughts - and the growing contractions that got more painful with the hour.

She prayed for the first time since he had died. She prayed that she would be okay, because she was pretty nervous about giving birth, especially because he couldn't be there to support her like he had promised with her first pregnancy. She prayed that her baby would be perfect, healthy and happy, that they would never in their whole life have to deal with such pain and torment as she'd had to endure. She prayed that her friends got to live long and happy lives, with their loved ones, their spouses, their children.

But most importantly, she prayed for Jane. She wished she still believed in the afterlife, because it would comfort her so much to know that he's been sitting there all this time, waiting for her to join him, watching over her, being her guardian angel. Maybe she did believe.

"I love you, Patrick," she whispered. "And I wish that you could be here to hold my hand, to tell me everything is going to be okay. To push everybody away when it's getting too much to handle, to tell me how much you love me. I wish you could have seen our little baby, I wish I hadn't messed up with little George. But I promise, I will make you so proud, wherever you are. You'll see."

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the pillows. When the door opened, she was certain she had been gone for a while, but she couldn't imagine having slept through this pain. Then again, she had carried a never-ending, breathless pain with her since the day he died, and perhaps it had immunized her a little on the concept of awful pain.

"How far are you?" Grace asked her gently, not even surprised to find her friend like this. Maybe they had seen that she was in labor, they weren't stupid, but just allowed her to be alone if she wanted to.

"I can't do it," Lisbon whispered, and Grace held her hand, while Walter brushed her hair out of her face. "It hurts too much. No more pain. Please!"

Grace said something but all faded away, as Lisbon's vision turned dark for a moment, pain controlling even her tiny toe, and for a moment she wondered if this was it - would she die now? Would dying hurt even more than this? Or would it be over before she knew it, like blowing out a candle, flick, and out was her light.

A calm voice spoke to her from far away, but she couldn't exactly make out what it was saying, or who it was. It sounded familiar, but she had difficulty orienting herself, still no vision, only sounds. The pain had gone, and it felt almost as if she was floating.

"Hey there, stranger," the voice whispered, and she blinked a couple of times, looking around the room. She was surrounded by a blinding whiteness, as though all the lights in the whole wide world were focused on her. She squinted against the sensation, not sure what else to do, and where she even was. "I see you found my letter."

She followed the sound of the voice, and found a figure standing by her bed, and as she blinked again, it became increasingly clear who it was.

"Jane…" she breathed. The pain returned, except it was a different kind of pain, it was the pain she had carried in her heart for all these months, the pain had thrown her life upside down, had rendered her a mere doll without any feelings, except for this deafening pain. She wouldn't be surprised if she had started crying, but at that point in her life, she rarely felt it when she was.

He sat down on the bed, and his hands focused on her, one resting on her belly, the other stroking her hair out of her face.

"Am I dying?"

"Far from it. You're doing great."

"But it hurts so much."

"It is supposed to hurt." She felt like that sentence had a double meaning - he was probably talking about labor, but she meant life without him. He smiled at her, and her pain fluttered away, replaced by that love she had never felt for anybody in her life before, and never would, she knew. Her love for him was what defined her, he was a part of her, her personality formed around his existence. Perhaps that was the reason why it had hurt so much when he was no longer there - she had lost part of herself. "Hey. I'm proud of you."

"What for? I messed up everything I could mess up. I don't think I could have done a worse job."

He chuckled and she pulled him down, needing to feel him against her, his breath tickling her ear, his lips on her skin. He obliged, pulling her into his arms for as much as he could with her belly in the way.

"Look, Teresa," he started, his free hand tracing figures on her face. "I love you, so much. Words could not describe how much I love you. I look at your beautiful face and I am home. You are the other half of me, the better half, and I love you. I will never be home unless I'm with you."

"I miss you, Patrick," she sobbed. "I can't go on much longer. I want to live but I can't, I can't, I… I want to be in your arms, I want to call you, talk to you, have you cheer me up and chase away the dark clouds that threaten to ruin me on a daily basis. And I hate you… for leaving me, even though it was never your fault to begin with. I hate you for being such a… hero. I have to live the rest of my life without you now. But… I wouldn't feel like this if I didn't love you… and I do, with everything I have, every fiber in my body is in love with you, and that will never change, ever."

He closed his eyes and she looked at him, in all his beauty, exactly how she had remembered him, her knight in shining armor, her Greek god. From a faraway distance she heard someone scream, and she was almost certain it was herself, but it didn't matter.

"Just push," he whispered eventually, and his words startled her. His hand came to cover her belly, underneath her belly, his hand a pleasant weight on her skin. "Against this spot, right here. Don't put any pressure into your head, or it might just explode. You have to push down. Before you know it, you'll be holding our little baby."

"You should see them, too," she whispered. "It is only right. You made them possible."

"I will be watching you from upstairs. Like I have since I left."

"Oh Patrick," she whispered against the skin in his neck. "Why did you have to leave? I have been a wreck."

"You have been doing way better than I did when Angela and Charlotte passed away. I nearly killed myself."

"I was going to do that, but something stopped me."

He kissed the side of her face, brushed his hand through her hair again. She felt the outside world coming back slowly, the edges of this fantasy blurring, the light slowly dimming. When he looked at her again after a few seconds, his eyes full of love and his smile like it had never been before, it clicked.

"You did."

He kissed her then, and she could swear she felt her lips tingling, as though this wasn't just a mere fantasy but her life, him in the flesh, the way it was supposed to be be.

"I love you, my darling Teresa," he whispered. "I will always protect you, even from yourself."

"I love you, too, Patrick. I always will."

An excruciating pain pulled her out of the fantasy for good, and it felt like something was pulling her hips apart, and the only thing she felt she could do to release the tension was scream, at the top of her lungs, hitting the mattress beside her, until she remembered Jane's words.

Just push.

So she did. She felt a pressure on her lower belly right where Jane had told her to push, as though his hand was covering her skin, telling her exactly what to do. She closed her eyes and imagined him standing by the bed, cheering her on, telling her words of love, telling her how he proud he was.

Suddenly, the pain was gone, and she nearly drifted into that fantasy world again, it had been so good, she wished she could have stayed for a little longer, but then she heard the shrill cries of a newborn baby, and she was right back in the real world. Her eyes flew open, and she was met by… her baby. Crying, thrashing tiny arms and legs around, but very much alive.

"It's a girl," her midwife proclaimed, smiling too, although it was clear to Lisbon that everybody was a little off put. She wondered what had happened to make them be like that.

"It's a girl, Jane," Lisbon whispered, folding her newborn daughter into her arms, looking up at the ceiling briefly, as though Jane would be sitting there smiling at her. She knew he wasn't, but it still comforted her to at least try. "She's so beautiful."

And all of her pain melted away as she was finally introduced to this little wonder, who was a dream come true, and was honestly a miracle.

"What will be her name?" someone asked her, but it was of little importance who had said it.

"Genevieve."

Everything around her faded away, her little baby calming down from her fright of being introduced to the outside world, and was slowly falling asleep, peaceful once again.

~...~

The midwife had briefly washed Genevieve before returning her to her mother, who was happy to hold her once again. The people present in the room had stayed mostly silent except for the midwife, but the painting they represented was slowly coming to life. Walter provided drinks and treats, and Lisbon knew he didn't really know what else to do. Perhaps he was uncomfortable, but he had wanted to be there.

Grace sat down on the bed and turned to Lisbon.

"What happened there?" was the first thing the young woman asked Lisbon.

"I don't know. What happened?"

"Well, you lost consciousness, but then when you came back it was as if you had regained the strength of a thousand men."

Both chuckled and Lisbon looked down at Genevieve, who had just been fed and was now catching some well-deserved sleep.

"Did you see Jane?" Grace asked, and that question startled Lisbon, but she had the answer straight away. She could never lie to Grace. She was her best friend now.

"I did."

Grace smiled and nodded. "That must have been nice. I already thought that it was him who had given you so much strength."

"It was nice. I knew it wasn't real, but I feel like it gave me the strength to move on… eternally, if necessary." She looked at her daughter, peacefully asleep. This little girl still had her whole beautiful life ahead of her, and Lisbon couldn't wait to meet her smile, see her take her first steps, hear her first words. God forbid she would ever meet a boy, or Lisbon would find countless of ways to make her as hard-to-get as possible. She wanted to shield her from all the harm in the world, all the sorrow, all the pain, and she had succeeded thus far, but it would be foolish to believe she could protect her forever. Eventually, she would be faced with her own tragedy - Lisbon only prayed it wasn't as devastating as losing her husband.

"She'll still change, I know, but she already looks so much like him. Jane would have denied it, claimed that her nose was at least mine, but… she is definitely Jane's daughter."

Grace smiled at Lisbon's words, and they remained silent for a while, until Lisbon grew a little tired. Grace noticed, of course - they were very much in tune to each other, especially Grace. Months spent looking after her would do that to a person.

"Do you want to be alone?"

"I just want to sleep." The midwife had carefully listened to their conversation and butted in at that point.

"You want me to take her?"

"No. She'll sleep with me. I don't think she'll sleep very well without me." While that wasn't a lie, it wasn't the complete truth, either. Lisbon had carried Genevieve in her womb for nine months - to suddenly part with her would definitely leave her awake for the entire night. And she needed her sleep.

And so she settled in, with the help of her friend Grace, with her newborn daughter by her side, still asleep.

~...~

Four months later

It was tough being a single mother. She had taken parenting classes - a bit too late, considering she took them after the birth, but she had soon realized that she didn't want to be dependant on her friends too much, but she wasn't a natural mother. Sure, some things went without saying, like breastfeeding or changing a diaper, but recognizing what kind of cries Genevieve was issuing was another difficulty altogether.

She couldn't give up her friends entirely, though. Walter was the rich uncle she had expected him to be, spoiling his baby niece with expensive gifts she really didn't need. He helped her around the household, too - she would never forget the fact that he had singlehandedly finished the cabin and had created the most beautiful nursery ever, and after the birth, he helped with cleaning the house, cooking dinner, getting groceries.

Grace and Wayne had moved closer. They had had a wonderful family home in Santa Barbara, but they soon realized that not only did they want to be able to support her whenever necessary, they just couldn't miss her presence. And she couldn't miss theirs - Grace had been of great help in the first week, and literally everything Lisbon knew now when it came to newborns was because Grace had taught her. Benjamin and Little Maddy had only been thrilled to be surrounded by their aunts and uncles.

Genevieve got a little fussy, but thankfully her trusted pacifier always quieted her. Lisbon was lucky, she knew. Genevieve was the easiest baby Lisbon could ever have wished for. Not that she would have minded a fussy baby, but at least Lisbon didn't have to worry too much about sleepless nights.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but might I add, your baby is most stunning."

Lisbon turned around and found an elderly lady smiling at them both. She recognized the lady from her recurring walks into town, and the rumor mill had spilled that this lady was also, in fact, a widow.

"Thank you so much. She takes after her father."

"Well, what a beautiful father you must have then, my lovely."

Genevieve looked at the woman with such wonder, those big green eyes of hers lighting up, and her pacifier dropped to the floor as she showed the woman her biggest grin.

The woman swooned and smiled at Lisbon. "Oh, what I'd give to be a young mother like yourself."

"You can take her if you want. She's just starting her first tooth," Lisbon teased. It was only teasing. She would never let her daughter go, for anything.

The woman chuckled, and they continued their light conversation until they parted ways.

Lisbon proceeded to the checkouts when she found a young boy standing there, looking at her. She looked behind her first, perhaps he had seen something interesting, but he was still looking at her when she returned her gaze. What was that saying? Curiosity killed the cat? So she walked over to him and smiled.

"I saw you were looking at me quite intently. Can I help you with anything?"

He shook his head, and remained quiet for a while. He looked at Genevieve, then back at Lisbon.

"You're Mrs. Jane."

It shocked her that the boy knew her name, but then again, most people knew of her. Or at least, of her tragedy, considering people had never stopped looking at her with those sympathetic eyes.

And really, she still was Mrs. Jane. Her Mr. Jane might have been gone for far too long, she would always be his wife, and he her husband.

"Indeed I am. Who's asking?"

He shook his head, and finally looked somewhere else than at Genevieve or Lisbon. He seemed tormented, hesitant maybe, and now she was really curious.

"It's nothing. I just… I saw you… I've seen you often, and, uh…" He stopped abruptly to hug her, and she was truly surprised, but it didn't take long for her to return his hug. She even lowered herself so she could look into his eyes directly when they pulled away.

"Thanks to Mr. Jane, my father is still alive. And I'm very sorry for your loss. But… I wanted to thank him… thank you… for your sacrifice."

She was flabbergasted. Perhaps she did faintly remember this boy's face from news reports on the robbery, but she had been so filled by grief and sorrow that she hadn't responded to any of it at all. He was, thankfully, older now, so even if she had remembered his face, she couldn't have blamed herself for not recognizing him.

She looked up at Genevieve briefly, who was simply looking around, still exploring the world, finding new things every day. Of course Lisbon would have wanted this little girl to have her father with her, but Genevieve would never know her father. There were pictures, notes, some video, but she wouldn't know him by her own memory. This little boy, however, did. Her heart constricted a little thinking of what could have happened if his father would have been killed that day. She couldn't put somebody's child through that, especially not this brave boy.

"What is your name?" she asked him, gently.

"Leroy."

"It's nice to meet you, Leroy. You can call me Teresa. Now, listen closely to what I will tell you, because it is of the utmost importance, alright?"

He nodded.

"You shouldn't feel guilty about my husband dying. It is sad, and I am still sad, but everybody will have to go eventually. In this moment, I'm glad it was him, and not your father. A child should never have to be faced with the death of their parent. So tonight, promise me this, Leroy, you will give your father a big hug, a kiss, ask him to read you a bedtime story, and tell him how much you love him. You should cherish every moment you can spend with him - and your mother, too. Can you do that for me, Leroy?"

He nodded, and they looked at each other for a little longer, until Genevieve interrupted them with her adorable babbling. She looked up at her daughter, who in Lisbon's eyes was so unbelievably beautiful, partly because she looked so much like her father, and partly because she was a dream come true to Lisbon. Since losing George, she had been afraid she would never have a baby again, and she had come dangerously close, but this little girl was the living example of a miracle.

"Love him good," Lisbon whispered, "so that my husband's death wasn't in vain."

She knew those words held little meaning to a child so young, but his eyes told her that he understood her, that he knew what she was trying to tell him. He nodded again, and they shared a hug before parting ways.

Genevieve smiled at her mother, as though she understood what that moment had been about, as though she understood how important it would be in helping Lisbon deal with her grief.

~...~

Eight months later

It was the day Genevieve turned one, and Lisbon hadn't planned anything, hadn't brought her a birthday cake, not even presents. She obviously wanted her daughter to have a good day, her first birthday, you would only experience it once, but of all days to choose from, Lisbon's head and heart had chosen that precise day to be one of the shittiest in the year.

Genevieve had really helped with Lisbon's grief, but it wasn't a surprise to Lisbon when she fell back into her grief, and only a few months after her birth, Lisbon had been diagnosed with a depression. The doctors claimed it was postpartum, but Lisbon knew it wasn't.

She couldn't receive much medication because she was breastfeeding her daughter, which made her spiral down into her negative patterns. She had been doing relatively fine, until she had met Leroy in that supermarket, and everything had come crashing down.

She had never used her pregnancy and the birth of Genevieve as some miracle that would bring her life back together. She knew she was still screwed up, and nothing would probably fix that. Well, she knew one thing, but that only happened in her dreams.

She looked at her daughter, peacefully asleep, so unbelievably beautiful, and yet the sight of this little girl only made her depression worse. Because she was Jane's daughter, so much of him in her little face, as though nature had performed a copy-paste maneuver, as though Lisbon wasn't screwed up enough.

A door opened but she didn't really respond, even though she knew who was there.

"You have to get out of bed, Teresa," Grace stated. Curtains opened and Lisbon squinted against the sudden light. It woke up Genevieve, too, who started fussing, searching for her mother. Her mother didn't have the energy, however, to comfort her, so Grace picked up the little girl, instead.

"Surely you haven't forgotten that it's her first birthday? We gotta make this special."

"She won't remember it."

"But you will. Just another precious smile to add to your collection." She was silent for a while, bouncing Genevieve up and down gently until she stopped crying. "We will light up your mother's life, little one. I brought cake."

Lisbon sighed and got up, slowly, before she looked at her daughter again who was already giggling, as though she knew what her aunt meant. Well, screw it, Lisbon thought, why the hell not.

It was a special day, Lisbon realized as she found most of her friends and family in her living room, already in a party mood, and who stood to congratulate her. Most of their words flew past her, and most of the images wouldn't be saved to her hard drive, but it didn't matter. She had to give her daughter the best day she could give her, even if she felt like shit herself. She had to prevent herself from turning into her father again.

"Time for gifts!" Walter exclaimed, and he started, carrying way too many presents for a one-year-old, and it didn't surprise anybody that he was spoiling Genevieve senseless, like the rich uncle he was supposed to be.

When most of the guests had left and her closest friends were helping her clean up the place, Grace approached her.

"I know it's Eevie's birthday, but it doesn't mean I can't spoil you." She swallowed. "I found this, don't ask me where. Open it on a very rainy day."

Grace had kissed her cheek, and it made Lisbon realize that whatever this gift was, it must be very meaningful.

Her curiosity got the better of her, so when that evening she had trouble smiling for Genevieve, she opened the gift.

She was met by her favorite picture of Jane, the sunlight hitting his curls in just the right way, his 1000-watt smile on his perfect lips, his eyes shining. The picture was stuck in a DVD case, and Lisbon wondered what was inside it.

She wasn't prepared.

She saw Jane. In full-color, moving, breathing, frustrated with something. She hadn't seen any moving images of him in over two years. Her heart stopped beating for a second, and she almost got light-headed.

She paused the recording as soon as she got her reasoning back. She wasn't ready to watch this. She couldn't do it. She had only just started her medication against her depression, so stirring up her grief, which incidentally had caused her depression, wouldn't do her any good.

She looked at Genevieve, who had fallen asleep after this eventful day, in her brand-new adorable little bunny onesie. Her biggest wish was that this little girl got to meet her father, but there was nobody on this planet, in this universe, who could help with that. So why bother wishing for anything, wanting anything, when the only thing that could repair her was the furthest out of reach?

She hit play after having a long internal discussion. There was a reason Grace had given her this. Her friend wouldn't give her something like this if it wasn't worth it.

"Is this thing on? Ugh, why is technology so advanced these days?" He sighed, but got over it quickly. He looked at the camera and smiled. She couldn't make out where he was, but it was obvious by his looks that it wasn't a very recent video. This must have been at least a year before he had died, but he still had his beard, so she could do nothing else than pinpoint this somewhere in his absence after Red John's death. She didn't really know what to feel about that revelation. "Hi. I know you have questions. I don't even know if this will ever reach you, it probably won't. But, I'm trying to get into contact with you… Lisbon-"

She paused it, startled immediately at hearing her name from his lips. Her heart was beating frantically now, but suddenly, she knew she had to watch this video, finish it. It was definitely from that period after Red John - she had received his letters through his friends Sam and Pete, and they had mentioned with his first letter that he had tried to get into contact with her before, but they had never explained anything else. Maybe they knew as much as she did, and knowing Jane, that was probably what she had to stick with. He was a pro in keeping people in the dark.

"I don't want to give away my location. I'm not ready to come back yet, I have to face demons here and I can't put any of you through this. I want to keep you guys safe, because I will be arrested first thing if I ever set foot on American soil, and I'm going to drag you with me, even if I try my hardest to prevent that. Perhaps one day you will understand. You, Lisbon, of all people, will understand. I know that. But right now, you probably will be very mad at me. And I understand that. You were… are… my best friend. I have not behaved like a best friend, maybe I never will… perhaps that's not the kind of friends we are." He shook his head, looked away from the camera, and she knew it was his way of changing the subject. He had done it many times with her, not always positively.

"I miss you, Lisbon. I have only been here for a few weeks and I already miss your voice. You will declare me mad, I know. If there had been a way that I could have stayed with you, I would have taken it. But I realize now that all these years, I kept you on a leash as my, what, my bodyguard? I knew nothing bad would happen to me because you were close. You always had my back. You always managed to save me when one of my hunches went wrong. You got hurt in the process too, sometimes. Physically, but mentally, too. I realize that now, too. But you still stuck by my side, even though I hurt you, badly, on multiple occasions. I… I can never… be that for you. I'm not that strong. So maybe I'm doing you a favor by walking away. Maybe you will establish a better life for yourself, find a stable job far away from the mess I have brought upon the CBI… maybe you will find a love… I wish nothing but the best for you. After all that you've done for me… you deserve happiness."

She felt tears run down her cheeks, and she probably wouldn't have noticed them, like she hardly ever did, yet she tasted the salt in her mouth, bringing her back to reality.

He was silent, as her thumb hovered over the pause button, but she couldn't bring herself to stop his words. She was afraid that she wouldn't continue if she paused him now.

"Anyway, I realize now that I can never send you this video. It's too dangerous, because the FBI will definitely be able to tell where I am by my surroundings. So…" He ran a hand through his hair, looked at the table next to him where she found a cup of, no doubt, tea. He lifted it to his lips, and she laughed through her tears, because he was still so typically himself, even if she knew he had been very troubled in that period, dealing with Red John's death, his separation from her. He would always be Patrick Jane, no matter what happened. "If you're never going to see this, I might as well… uh… screw it. I love you, Teresa. I always have. I always will. And I hope I will get to see you one day, even if it will be in ten years on your kid's birthday party, and I have to listen to your spouse's story of your wedding for the upteenth time. I can't imagine… I don't think I'll… no, I know I'm incapable of not seeing your smile for the rest of my life. So even if it's from afar, I will come back to you. I… love you. I love you. If only you could hear this." He sighed. "I have no idea how long I will be staying here. Could be months, could be years. But I will have a lot of time to think. About my past, but also about my future. I hope I'll be able to think of a way to get myself to you safely. But I will come back. I promise. I know I'm just talking to myself at this point, but… maybe you will see this at some point. Either because I'm dead, or because I found a way to get back. Either way, I… just stay safe, Teresa Lisbon. We will meet again."

She gave herself time to let this information sink in, but it wasn't anything new that she had learned. She had known, no, felt that he had loved her for a while, and this only served to prove that. So none of his words were new to her, but maybe it did surprise her that he had tried from the very start of his absence to find a way back to her. It warmed her cold heart.

She got on the phone with Grace as soon as she had recovered enough to speak.

"You watched it already, didn't you?"

"Why did you never show this to me?" Lisbon asked, not bothering with niceties at that time. She was a little peeved that her friend had kept this from her, while Lisbon had so yearned to hear Jane's voice again, and she had voiced that during her time of intense grieving.

"I only found it recently. If I had found it before, obviously I would have shown it to you."

Lisbon's fingers worked on their own accord, playing back his entire speech, and she kept on the phone with Grace, needing her company even if they didn't say anything.

She was about to watch it a third time when Grace interrupted.

"Do you want me to come over? We can watch it together."

"I would like that."

Neither of the women could hold in their tears, and it felt cathartic, some of the weight lifted off her shoulders. She couldn't stop listening to him saying 'I love you', the most meaningful, beautiful words he could ever have told her. If only he had said them before he had left for those long, two years, she wouldn't have hated him as much with their reunion.

It was perhaps after her sixth time rewatching the video that she noticed that Grace had fallen asleep.

"Just stay safe, Teresa Lisbon. We will meet again."

With those words, she too felt herself get sleepy. She hadn't slept in weeks. His words seemed to wrap around her, like his strong arms once had, enveloping her completely, safe in his hold.

"I will come back to you. I… love you. I love you."

"I love you, too…"

It was the first good sleep since he had died.

~...~

Six years later

Before moving to the south, she had never known that it could snow there - badly, even. Her childhood had been filled with holidays basically covered entirely in snow, sledding to school, slamming snowballs in her brothers' faces, and she remembered when she received the news that she would be transferred to San Francisco for her first real job, she was scared she would never get to see snow ever again. During her first Californian snow storm, everybody else was disgruntled, but she had loved it, had loved the nostalgia and the fact she got to spend her weekends snowed in in her cozy apartment. Even if it was lonely, she had enjoyed looking out of the window to find a world covered in snow.

It hadn't snowed often in Austin, which brought back those fears of snowless winters from when she'd had to move to California, but luckily, even if it was just one day, there had been snow.

The first Texan snow had fallen during her first Christmas with Jane, and he had talked about being snowed in, them spending their evenings in front of the fireplace, but they both knew it wouldn't possibly snow that much in Texas. Then he had passed away, and there had been multiple snow storms following that day, but she hadn't paid attention to it much. In the first year, it was mainly because she couldn't be bothered, but after the birth of Genevieve, she was too busy taking care of her little angel and her own depression that even though she had seen the snow, she preferred to get her daughter in bed on time.

But her little girl was growing up now, and as she discovered the world around her, so did Lisbon discover a world without Jane, in which she could be happy, even without him.

Many people had claimed that her depression couldn't have just disappeared into thin air, and perhaps it hadn't. Yet the video Grace had found with her amazing hacking skills had given her fuel to go on for years and years to come. She still listened to it often, but always on her own. She didn't want distractions - she wanted to be able to fully feel his words warm her heart, even if they were laced with sadness and frustration. He had wanted things to be different, she knew that now, he hadn't wanted to be on that island so far away from her. But she realized that he had done the right thing. He wouldn't have been safe if he had stayed.

Genevieve was a mummy's girl, and even though she had little choice in the matter, it still filled Lisbon with love thinking about how much they loved each other. She was so sweet, too, always finding time to make little presents not just for her mother, but for her aunts and uncles, too. And she loved tea - of course she loved tea. Maybe it were her genes, or perhaps it was the fact that Lisbon had almost permanently replaced her once so trusted coffee with Jane's favorite tea. Children will eventually copy their parents, Lisbon knew.

Her little girl settled into Lisbon's side, their hands entwined, as they looked at the first snowfall of the season. Incidentally, this was their favorite way to fall asleep, even if Lisbon's back would eventually protest and she would end up putting Genevieve into her own bed.

She was so gorgeous. Lisbon knew every mother would describe their child like that, but it was really true. Absolutely the most beautiful little girl Lisbon had ever seen in her entire life. She was stubborn, like Lisbon herself, and cheeky like her father. She was notorious for misbehaving, but she always apologized sincerely if she had hurt someone or damaged something.

"Oh, I made you something at school," Genevieve started out of nowhere and jumped up, running into her bedroom and returning within mere seconds. Dropping the creation into Lisbon's lap without much finesse, she cuddled back into her mother's comfortable side.

"A girl in my class was making something for her daddy because it's his birthday tomorrow," Genevieve explained. "And it just got me thinking... you're my daddy and mommy in one. So… I decided to make something."

Lisbon teared up immediately, looking down at her daughter who was so smart and empathic, she knew exactly what Lisbon felt and thought. A girl so young shouldn't be faced with Lisbon's grief, but the girl had never complained, had shouldered her mother's grief together with Lisbon.

"You didn't have to do that, Eevie." She inspected the present, no idea what it was, but she appreciated the effort Genevieve had put into it. "It's not my birthday, though."

"No, I know. But I didn't think I needed an excuse to make you something."

Lisbon smiled. "I love it, thanks Eevie."

They shared their infamous eskimo kiss, and as they settled in again, Lisbon's eyes went to her wedding ring, still on her left ring finger. She understood Jane now, had always hoped he would take his off during their long friendship, but she understood now that it was his way of keeping his wife and child with him. And in a way, it was now hers, too. To keep his memory with her, his legacy… him. She couldn't ever forget him, and she shouldn't.

He was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

---

A/N: Phew! I can imagine that this was sometimes hard to get through, with Lisbon almost killing herself, but I really wanted to focus on her recovery as well. I did want to make it more obvious, though, that while in Still Falling for You, Jane was doing relatively well eventually after her death, Lisbon could possibly have way more trouble moving on.

Also, I really should stop this A/N here, or I might stall too much. Events this week so far have made me realize that today could be your last day so I don't want to stall too many things any more.

Well! Please be so kind to let me know what you thought of this fic in a REVIEW, or add it to your favorites. It's really appreciated, even though I know that a big part of the TM archive is kind of dead. I appreciate everybody who is still here!