He had promised himself that it would have never happened with Red John still alive, but there was just so much he could handle. They had been both tired and stressed, and a new Red John case had gotten him on edge. Lisbon had been so angry with him…
She was beautifully furious, her eyes were shining with fire, and she wasn't shouting up. She kept saying that he didn't care, that he had told only lies to her She remembered every meaningful conversation shared, every promises he ever made, and she remembered him how, one way or another, he always managed to take every single word back.
It was too much. She didn't know what she was talking about. She didn't understand his real motivations. He just wanted to silence her, and in that moment, it had looked like a good idea.
So, he kissed her.
And then, she slapped him.
After, she grabbed him for the lapels of his jacket and kissed him, and he kissed her back. Afterwards, everything happened in an hurry, like it was some kind of dream.
She sneaked out before he woke up, and when, the next day, their eyes met, they silently agree that it had been a mistake, and that it wasn't going to happen ever again.
She had never planned for this to happen, but deep down she wasn't even remotely surprised. After all, wasn't Jane a master in taking away from her any semblance of control?
This wasn't planned. It wasn't expected, di per se, and yet, the news wasn't unwelcomed. She wasn't going to lie about this: she was happy.
And yet, being happy made her feel guilty. Because it wasn't just about her. As the old saying went, it took two to tango. She knew it was going to be hard for Jane, that he had never meant for something like this to happen, but… right now, she just had to focus on letting him know. It wasn't something she could lie about with him. She had to be strong and face Jane.
Even if only to hear him saying that he didn't want to have anything to do with her any longer.
She avoided Jane like the plague for days. It wasn't like she didn't want to tell him, she just didn't know how. The fact that they were always busy, never alone, wasn't helping too. There was always a case, paperwork to deal with for her, theories on Red John for him.
Then, a couple of weeks after she had discovered a plus blue sign on a stick, she finally managed to corner him in the break room. Jane had been up in the attic the whole day, working on who knew what concerning the enigmatic serial killer, and she had patiently awaited well past midnight for him to come down to get a cup of tea or whatever he liked to have at such an unholy hour.
"Being here this late isn't healthy, Lisbon" he told her as soon as he felt her presence at his back.
She joined him at the kitchen counter, keeping in silence and nervously looking for a cup of coffee, but without saying a thing, with a small smile, he gave her an immaculate, brand new teacup. It was filled with chamomile, something he would have never had for himself. Without saying anything else, he came back to the attic, leaving her with a bottle of drugs.
She read the label and cried, because he knew. He had always knew.
She run, and caught up with him when he was halfway. She hugged him, hiding her face in his chest, and he hugged her back, nuzzling her hair.
They fell asleep on his makeshift bed, with Jane caressing her still flat belly through her clothes.
After they discovered of the baby, Lisbon was scared that he would push to have some kind of proper relationship with her, and when he didn't, she was grateful. Jane, though, was still a bit old fashioned and wanted to do the closest thing to what was the honorable thing.
It wasn't just that, though.
Jane was honestly happy and thrilled for he was going to be a father again. All the energy he always wasted in trying to get revenge, he no redirected it towards getting ready for fatherhood. He talked about the baby nonstop, even when he wasn't supposed to. He excused himself by saying that people needed to know that she was so grumpy because of hormones.
One afternoon, they were at Marie's for a break and she overheard him talking with a nice, young girl behind the counter about a slice of strawberries cheesecake, that he wanted served with meringues on top. He explained himself with the fact that his partner was having a pregnancy craving. The girl immediately compelled, and congratulated him for impeding fatherhood with a bright smile.
When he returned to the table, he gave her the cake, but she excused herself, saying that she didn't feel like eating any longer. It was a partial lie, though.
In two weeks, they were going to know the gender of the baby, and Jane had spent the last half an hour telling everyone at the café how much he wanted for the baby to be a boy.
The day of the sonogram Jane was with her, spread on the bed at her side like it was normal. His eyes were focused on the screen, and his grin was one she remembered her brothers wearing on Christmas morning as children. She sighed, exasperated, while the nurses- all charmed by him- simply giggled.
She was scared. Actually, it wasn't right. She was torn. She knew he wanted a son, and even if she didn't know how Jane could handle a girl, that was exactly what she wanted: a daughter.
She wanted, needed, at least this. Jane wasn't interested in a relationship with her-hell, she wasn't sure he still knew how to be in a relationship, or function within one. Having his child, that small part of him, was supposed to be enough, but it really wasn't. Even if she knew that it could mean losing Jane for good, she wanted for their child to be a girl. She had raised her brothers, been around men all her adult life. She wanted this. Maybe she even craved a daughter. Besides, maybe he could be happy, too. He had showed her that he could be a perfect parent again, after all.
"Congratulations, Mr. Mrs. Lisbon, it's a girl."
Without correcting the doctor, she turned to face Jane, expecting to see a smile mirroring her own, but what she saw was the portrait of the man she had met over a decade before.
After the doctor's appointment, when Jane drove her back to her apartment, Lisbon simply left the car with a quick "thanks". She didn't ask him if he wanted to come over for a tea, nor anything else. His presence and forced small talk was something she couldn't handle right now, his silence and the air of sadness enveloping them had been too much. She had to think things straights, and right now she had just one priority: her baby. She didn't care what Jane thought. She didn't want to listen to him-if he was going to talk at all. If Jane couldn't handle being father to a baby girl again, well, she didn't care. She wasn't going to give up on her child in any way because of him.
And yet, it was utterly painful. She had seen the possibilities, and had hallowed herself to dream of things that, apparently, weren't supposed to be. She had lied to herself when she had been saying that Jane was stronger than this, that he was a better man that what he had always told them.
And yet, in that moment she felt like he was exactly that man. She knew it wasn't a nice thing to say, that he had his reasons, and part of her wanted to understand him, but she couldn't. She couldn't fathom losing her daughter, and Jane was throwing this second chance away. She could handle being rejected, but part of her hated the man because it was their child he was saying no to.
And yet… she wanted nothing more than being a family with him. For real. Despite everything.
He avoided Lisbon like a plague for days afterwards. He didn't know what he was supposed to do or say. He felt like every action he could take would be a mistake. He knew it wasn't right, that she didn't deserve it, but he couldn't help it. He had tried to avoid this very situation, repeating to her time after time that he was beyond saving, that there were things that she couldn't fix.
If she hadn't listened to him... well, then what had happened was her fault too. She should have avoided that situation. Should have stayed away from him. Stopped him when he had started to undress her that very night. That baby didn't have any fault, and yet he couldn't fathom being a father again. He was afraid to commit other mistakes, he thought he didn't deserve a second shot... and besides, his firstborn would always be Charlotte. He had failed her in the worst possible way, she deserved to be the only one to call him daddy. As stupid as it could sound.
He had never wanted to be a father again. He should have never allowed himself to believe such a stupid and useless lie. He already had a life and an objective. Red John was all it that mattered. The rest...
Lisbon should have thought about it before. Should have considered taking precautions. Or... doing something when she was still in time. He couldn't be a father again. Not to another girl. Not now, and maybe never again.
He always made sure that his gaze fell on Lisbon, and that she could read him right. His heart was full of rage and regret, and one way or another, it was all there because of her.
As the pregnancy progressed, Jane kept avoiding Lisbon. He never made her lack anything, he was good at providing money she liked to keep locked for future reference, just in case, but she didn't like to use it. He was disgusted, and he also felt something else he couldn't describe.
He was so mad at her, and so disgusted with himself... he behaved like a jerk with her the whole time, and she didn't hate him. Actually, it was quite the opposite. The closest she was to be due, the more she gave him space, looking at him from afar with longing and those eyes that he knew so well. She wanted to let him know she understood him, and that was what made him crazy. She couldn't understand it! She had lost her parents, but it was something...natural. That was the reason there was a word for that, but losing a child, it was completely unnatural. No one could describe it.
There was no word known to humans for such a thing. Just because she was with child... she couldn't understand it. No one could. Not even Rigsby, who looked at him with mixed feelings, like now he could agree on his idea of killing Red John. And definitely not her.
He couldn't keep this up. Not when she was still pregnant. Not when he knew that one day, she would use his ties to the baby to make sure he failed in his plans to rid the world of Red John.
He took his things, and left. He was going to do this on his own. Alone. Without looking back.
Despite being gone, Jane kept providing her with whatever she could need even from afar. He made sure that no one could track him, often relying on his carnie friends to arrange transfer of money and the receiving of things. He often sent things for the baby too, and it was whenever she received one of those gifts that Lisbon saw red, for Jane never choose things suitable for a girl, but very unisex: no dolls, no pink accents, no frou-frou, just white, light green or yellow and teddy bears. There was a part of her that wanted to destroy those objects, but she always ended up keeping them. One day, her child would eventually ask about her father, and she needed to able to tell her that he loved her, he just didn't know how. But that she always was in his heart.
One evening, she was all alone at home, late at night. The baby was due in just a matter of days, and between everything that was happening, Lisbon couldn't sleep. She was in the nursery, sitting on a chair and skimming over the white wood of her daughter's crib- another gift from Jane- when she heard a noise coming from her room: gun in hand, she went checking things out, and that was when she saw his silhouette.
She fired, and yet, his knife ended up being quicker than her, and when Red John fell on the ground, she saw a tear of crimson blood on her immaculate nightie- a frou-frou thing Jane had gotten for her. Crying, she called Cho, just to lose consciousness afterwards.
She had already lost Jane. She couldn't lose the only part she had left of him too.
In the months following his departure, Jane never bothered turning off his mobile. Like when he had left for Vegas years before, it seemed that the team was so angry with him they didn't even bother looking for his persona.
He was all alone, and he didn't mind it. He thought it was a fitting punishment for everything he had done, both to his family and to Teresa and their daughter. Solitude and oblivion were the only things he deserved, and he liked to torture himself furthermore by keeping around all the things that he would have given Teresa and his daughter had he been around, a part of their new little family. Yes, he often sent them things, but never of such a kind. They were always plain, simple and non-descriptive of the baby's gender, but here, in what had been Charlotte's room in their mansion, he kept everything he didn't have the strength to give to his baby daughter. Pink clothes, frou-frou accessories, dolls… everything his baby angry little princess may need, and he couldn't give away.
He was crying, hugging a particularly cute teddy bear with a furry of such a light brown that looked almost white. It had belonged to his firstborn, the baby he had lost, and all he could think about was that his baby daughter was going to be due just in a matter of days. He had lost Charlie, and this girl had never been meant to be his.
When the mobile rang, he didn't answered, but when it kept doing it, again and again and again, he felt like he didn't have any other choice. Even before accepting the call, the breath died in his throat, and fear took over.
He booked a flight for Sacramento as soon as Cho had finished explaining him what had happened to Lisbon, putting in a case as many of his daughter's things as possible.
Lisbon woke up to the sound of someone sniffing at her side, and the feeling of something wetting the skin of her arm. She mumbled something, absently running her fingers on her pregnant belly, crying in relief when she felt that her daughter was still there. Only then she finally managed to open a tiny bit her eyes, and in the semi-darkness of the room, she saw him, sat at her side.
Jane was crying- his tears were what was wetting her arm- holding on her hand with such a strength and desperation it was almost painful. She started crying too, and soon he was cupping her face, kissing away all her tears. Only when she was calmed enough he stopped, and it was in that moment that she saw that at the feet of the bed there were clothes and dolls, many of them, all white, lilac and pink, sweet and feminine and frou-frou. Just one look at the man she loved told her that Jane had been the one buying all those things for their little girl: they had always been in his thoughts, he had just been too scared to admit it, too proud to come back to them.
Two weeks later, Patrick Jane was the first one to welcome to the world Dorothy Anne Jane, and on her first birthday, she was yet again in her favorite place, in her daddy's arms, when he danced for the first time with her mummy, his bride.