Second Chances
The only people who will ever, truly, appreciate a second chance in life are those who know they don't deserve it. I'm one of those people.
When I asked Teresa to marry me I was going in blind. I really didn't know what she would say. It was one of the most nerve-racking times of my life. But she said yes, and it made me happier than I can remember being in a long time.
Of course the guys thought it was strange that Lisbon and I married so soon after her release from the hospital. It was especially astounding to Teresa's doctor.
When he learned of our intentions, he made it very clear that physical intimacy between us would be impossible for some weeks following her discharge. I expected his shock when we told him we understood that such activity would be harmful to Lisbon's recovery, but that we still intended to follow through with our planned wedding date.
Someone like him, a man with a wife and a mistress, wouldn't understand people like Teresa and I. Sexual desire has never been a big thing in our relationship. I mean, of course, we were attracted to each other, but it wasn't a driving force. Quite simply, we needed each other. Now, I would argue that my need of Lisbon has always been much stronger than her need of me, but I have given her something she's always wanted but been afraid to have. Love that no matter what happens will never waver.
I wanted to marry Teresa right away because I wanted to take care of her during her recovery, and for the rest of my life. And Lisbon has this idea that the only people who can take care of her are those that have a right to. In her eyes, as a friend (even a best friend), I didn't have that right. As a best friend and husband was a different matter.
For our, rather lengthy, honeymoon, I took Lisbon to an area I'd passed through with the carnival when I was a kid. A remote coastal town in Washington State. A strange place for a honeymoon I suppose, but I knew Lisbon would appreciate the peace and quiet during her recuperation. I was right, she loved it. We both did. Teresa showed a different side of herself there. One I had never seen before. It was a sort of tranquility, a calm, and it was contagious. I found myself surrendering to its gentle pull. The absolute contentment I found there with Teresa is something I'll admit, with regret, I never experienced with Angela. I loved her whole heartedly, but I was a different man then, selfish and greedy. I still am, of course, but over the years Lisbon's influence has had a positive impact on these faults. What she gave me made me realize how undeserving of it I was and am, the emotional and physical closeness. I'd practically forgotten what it was like. I can't call myself a religious man, but I have to admit that the bond which is formed between a husband and wife is, quite literally, a spiritual union that has a sacred feel to it. I don't know, maybe Teresa's religious convictions are rubbing off on me. But that doesn't change the fact that what I discovered, with her, was something I can't remember ever having. Complete peace.
Some days we would hardly say two words to each other, we just didn't need to.
Our evenings we always spent in close physical proximity to one another. Most of the time cuddling up on the couch enjoying each others company and reading or, in my case, a tossup between that and a Sudoku puzzle.
During the day Teresa especially liked to work in a small flower garden positioned to one side of the house we were renting. On the days that she felt strong enough, we would take fairly lengthy walks around the countryside surrounding our temporary haven.
Then there were some days when the only time we set foot out of bed was to eat. There's something inherently enjoyable about just snuggling up and lazing around all day every once in a while.
But, of course, all good things must come to an end, and we came back to home and work.
I didn't tell Teresa, but soon after our return I bought the house in Washington. I'm going to tell her very soon though, because I hope she'll agree to move there permanently. I'm sure it would be better for her there rather than here. She never will fully recover from the injuries she sustained, and frankly, I don't think she sees California as her home anymore. I can see it in her every day, longing for the place that, in a few short months, we both came to view as home. I know she wouldn't mind leaving the CBI, even more so now that a new boss has been appointed and she's "difficult", as Teresa says. For myself, I would just call her what she is, a bitch, and there's no hope of getting rid of her any time soon. Politics, drat the darn things, I've always hated them. The only reason Lisbon doesn't quit is because she thinks this job is her duty, but I intend to convince her that her tour of duty is over, time to move on. Especially now, because by some sort of, I would be inclined to say miracle, Teresa's pregnant. What I mean by miracle is, she's forty-two, and we weren't even trying. Of course, it's not unheard of, just unusual. And since the possibility of losing the baby is more common in women of Lisbon's age, I think it's important that she, at least, take a nine month break from work. But I'm very nearly positive I can convince her it's time to quit, it's time for both of us. It's time for our second chance, together, all three of us.
Author's Note: I know that some might not like the direction I took this fic, but in this little AU I've constructed it seems realistic, to me, that Jane and Lisbon would want to find somewhere where they can both start anew; especially in the case of them having a family.