Disclaimer: I don't own the Mentalist or any of the characters.

Chapter One: Just a Dream

Lisbon stood frozen, shocked speechless, the phone still pressed against her ear. She had a white-knuckled grip on it and didn't plan on letting go until the officer on the other line told her that this was all some sort of sick joke. Or until she woke up from this awful nightmare she was currently trapped in.

"Ma'am? Are you still there?" the officer asked, his voice garbled by static. "We would really appreciate it if you'd come down here and identify the bodies for us."

Lisbon still didn't speak-instead, she slammed the phone down into its cradle and tried not to pass out. She leaned against the wall for support; this couldn't be happening. It was just a horrible dream; it had to be, didn't it? Any moment now she'd open her eyes and find herself in her own bed, in her own home, safe and sound. Wouldn't she? Somehow she knew that wouldn't happen; her future was irreversibly, irreparably altered and there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing would ever be the same again.

She felt the tears begin to pool in her eyes, but she forced them away. Crying would only make things worse; drawing in a shaky breath, she tried to collect herself enough to break the news to the rest of the team. Trying to appear calm and in control, she exited her office to find her team members asleep at their desks. Or in Jane's case, on his couch. It was nearly two in the morning, and she felt guilty having to wake them-especially Jane. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully for once; it looked as if Red John hadn't invaded his dreams tonight, and it pained her to disturb him, but she knew she had no choice. Steeling herself, she shook him out of his peaceful slumber, not taking time to look at him before moving on to the others. Rigsby was the hardest to stir; if she hadn't been working with him all this time, she probably would've thought he was unconscious.

Everybody complained and groaned about being woken up, but when they saw the look on Lisbon's face, they stopped whining and started worrying.

"What's wrong, boss?" Cho asked, concern flashing in his eyes. "Do we have another case?"

Lisbon shook her head; there was a death, two actually, but there was no mystery or crime-solving involved.

"Then what is it?" Rigsby asked, trying to stifle a yawn.

"It's Hightower," Lisbon blurted. Her comment was met with puzzled expressions.

"What about Hightower?" Jane asked, suddenly wide-awake.

"Is everything all right?" Van Pelt questioned anxiously. Lisbon just shook her head, not bothering to offer up an explanation.

"So what's wrong?" Cho repeated.

"She's dead," Jane said from his perch on the worn leather couch in the corner that he used as a bed.

"What? Lisbon, is that true?" Van Pelt cried, on the verge hysterics. This time it was harder to hold back the tears, but Lisbon managed to do it for the others' sakes.

"Yes," she said, shifting her gaze from her shoes to her team.

"Oh my god," Van Pelt whispered. "How?"

"A drunk driver hit them, sent them over the edge of a bridge; they died on impact," Lisbon choked out, struggling to talk around the enormous lump in her throat.

"Oh my god," Van Pelt said again, not even attempting to stop the tears from flowing. "Oh my god."

"Wait a minute; them? They? There was more than person?" Rigsby remarked.

"Yeah; Hightower's husband was killed, too. The drunk driver didn't get so much as a scratch or a bruise," Lisbon told him. The anger in her voice was clear as day, and they all knew why. Lisbon got like this whenever they had a case that involved a drunk driver; her mother had been killed in an almost identical way. Just like in this situation, the person at fault had gotten away completely uninjured; it was so unfair it made Lisbon physcially sick.

And suddenly, Lisbon just couldn't take it anymore; the sadness, the outrage, the fear. All of the emotions she'd kept inside for years exploded out of her and she slid to the ground, sobbing. Within seconds, the team was at her side; but they didn't understand. None of them did; sure, she was devastated over Hightower's death, even more so because of her mother, but there was another reason for her being so upset. A reason that she hadn't revealed to anybody; she should've known Jane would pick up on it.

"Lisbon, is there something you aren't telling us?" he asked, his tone gentle, yet firm.

"What makes you think that?" Lisbon snapped defensively.

"Well, you and Hightower weren't exactly the best of friends," Jane said simply, shrugging his shoulders. Lisbon knew she wouldn't fool anybody, least of all Jane, by playing dumb. She might as well just tell them; they'd have to find out eventually, and it was better to just get it over with.

"Do you remember two weeks ago, when I sprained my ankle?" she began. "That day that I babysat Hightower's kids?"

The others nodded, unsure how this was relevant to everything else.

"Well about a week ago, Hightower invited me out to dinner; I thought she was going to tell me that I had to do a better job of keeping you in line," Lisbon continued, shooting Jane an accusatory glare. Jane didn't even flinch, just looked at Lisbon expectantly, waiting for her to keep going. "Anyway, when I got to the restaurant, Hightower's husband was there, too. They said they had to tell me something." Lisbon took a deep breath, trying to tame her racing pulse. "They told me that, if anything ever happened to them, that they wanted me to be their children's guardian. I protested at first; I had no idea why they were asking me, of all people. They didn't tell me why, but I figured they must have some reason for doing so; so eventually I agreed to it. I never thought I'd actually end up in this predicament. And now I don't know what to do."

Lisbon had already spoken to a social worker, so she knew exactly what happened from here; if she was either unwilling or unable to care for Mimi and Will, they would be put into foster care, seeing as they had no other living relatives. What she didn't know was what to do; Lisbon wasn't really in any position to raise two children; the only experience she had with childcare was occasionally babysitting her brother's kids, but that was only for a miminum amount of time. Not to mention the fact that she spent nearly all day, every day chasing down murderers. However, she knew what it felt like to feel unwanted; it wasn't a foreign feeling to her, seeing as her father had been abusive. The last thing she wanted was for Mimi and Will to feel that way, and she wouldn't be able to live with the guilt of knowing she had caused those feelings. From Lisbon's point-of-view, it didn't seem like she had any other option except to honor the commitment she'd made and take Mimi and Will in, making them her responsibility until they turned 18. It was a terrifying thought, terrifying enough to make the tough-as-nails Teresa Lisbon cry.

"Where are the kids now?" Jane dared to ask, rubbing soothing circles on Lisbon's back.

"They're at friends houses; I'm supposed to pick them up at three, but I don't know if I can. How do you tell an eight-year-old and five-year-old that their parents are dead?"

"Lisbon, look at me; everything is going to be okay. Why don't you go home and get some rest, clear your head and I'll pick up Mimi and Will? They can stay with me for a couple of days while you figure everything out, okay?" Jane suggested.

"Jane, that's sweet, but-," Lisbon started, but he cut her off.

"Uh-uh, no buts; Rigsby, drive her home," Jane ordered.

"But I need to go identify the bodies; and I'm not a child, I'm perfectly capable of driving home by myself," Lisbon protested her voice cracking.

"Van Pelt and Cho can go identify the bodies, and I know you aren't a child, but I don't want you to be alone right now. You're too worked up; just get some sleep. I swear, the kids will be in good hands. You don't have to worry; I've done this before, remember?"

Just that slight reference to his daughter made Jane tear up, but he kept a brave face. Far too tired and shook up to argue any further, Lisbon gave in and allowed Rigsby to drive her to her townhouse.

She offered him her couch, but he declined, saying there was no way he'd be able to fall asleep. Lisbon felt exactly the same, but she changed out of her work clothes and crawled under the covers anyway. As the hours ticked by and she continued to lie awake, she was only able to form one clear thought: What am I going to do?