Hey everybody. I want to say a BIG thankyou to lovely reviewers: Lisbon94, Famous4it, JuliettVictor, dogeatdog, mentalist, Holz9364, Jisbon4ever and Chloe.
Also hugs to: Liery, 3R1N14S, RainbowsArePretty, Jceda27, Batgirl67 and Vadergirl2006 for Story Alert/Favourite Story subscriptions. (I hope I didn't miss anyone and got all the spelling right)
I apologise in advance for the length of this chapter, I know its quite long but I couldn't find a stopping point. There's a few references to my two-shot story: June 17thbut you probably don't need to read it to understand. Okay, see ya!
"You're such a good big sister," Tommy had said.
She wasn't. She wasn't at all.
They still cared about each other, her and her brothers. Of course they did. They'd never forget each others birthdays. In fact, there was a weird sort of silent competition going on to see who can give the best present each year as if they were always jostling for the role of most generous, thoughtful sibling.
However, she always felt unaccountably awkward. It felt like things weren't exactly right between herself and her brothers. Especially the older two.
At times there seemed to be a sort of stilted friendly politeness if they were good friends who didn't see each other so often any more.
Maybe if she'd been more vigilant? Perhaps it was her responsibility as the sister to keep them on track.
But the only way she'd been able to get through those difficult years was by wrapping herself up like a package with tighter and tighter string. This made it difficult for her older brother, who became their guardian after their father died, to control her.
Her problem was rage. Even as a child, her rage had gotten her into awful trouble.
It was permanently simmering, even when she wasn't aware of it.
If she hurt herself unexpectedly or dropped a punnet of strawberries over the kitchen floor, it bubbled over like boiling milk.
The primeval scream of rage when she banged her forehead against an open cupboard door the other day when unpacking the dishwasher was astounding.
She sat on the kitchen floor with her back against the fridge and sobbed for twenty minutes feeling sorry for herself. It was pretty embarrassing.
But not nearly as embarrassing as the situation she was in now. Lisbon did manage to control her tears and walked from the hospital with Jane, whose gaze, she noticed, never seemed to leave his shoes as he maneuvered the lobby with easy familiarity. He looked like a convict being brought in for questioning, keeping his head down to avoid the journalists. It was weird.
However they were now outside in the fresh air walking around the grounds of the hospital. Lisbon wasn't sure what to do or what to say. She had no idea how to explain her actions to him and just hoped that he could put it down to menstrual issues. Unlikely. He was Patrick friggen Jane.
Jane finally broke the silence.
"Are you sick, Lisbon?" he asked hoping his fears wouldn't be confirmed. She shook her head.
Of course, he would think after that little display it could be nothing short of cancer or liver failure. Lisbon felt like such an over reactor.
"I'm here for my brother," Lisbon said not divulging too much information.
Patrick's eyes widened and his chest tightened. Her brother. Apart from work, Lisbon's entire life was her brothers. They were her family. If something had happened to one of them, of course she would be devastated. He felt idiotic of not even considering that possibility.
"Nothings wrong with him," Lisbon said quickly as she saw the sudden sympathy and concern on Jane's face. "It's actually good news. Him and his fiancée just had a baby."
Jane exhaled relieved then confused but didn't press the matter, she would tell him in her own time if she wished. Lisbon felt a surge of gratitude towards the man.
"I suppose I should get flowers for my sister-in-law to be," Lisbon said as they got near the hospital gift shop. "I mean she deserves them after going through that," she screwed up her nose as she said 'that' and waved her hand around as if to convey what childbirth would be like.
"That's a nice idea," Jane said as they walked in, the bell on the door tinkling behind them.
The claustrophobic tiny shop was stuffed with merchandise like an overflowing antique store. There were barrels of Get Well Soon teddies, piles of magazines and stacks of crossword puzzles, displays of flowers in varying shades and styles, soft children's toys stuffed in every crevice and heaps of helium filled balloons that had a variety of message, sunny happy words splashed across them.
An small elderly woman with wispy silver hair came out from behind a shelf laden with stuffed toy ducks, romper suits and pretty baby soaps wrapped up in ribbon.
She had on enormous glasses that magnified her eyes greatly and had on spangled clothes and lots of chunky necklaces and rings. Lisbon thought she was kind of adorable.
"Can I help you my dears?" she said in a trembly but sweet voice. She felt Jane stiffen beside her.
How are you still alive? Jane thought to himself.
The woman peered at Jane through her enormous specs.
"Patrick? Patrick Jane? " she said analysing his face and then smiling widely. "It is you."
Lisbon looked at them both. Did they know each other?
"June 17th 2001….Fathers Day," the woman recited with precision. "Tulips, no….lilies and a stuffed toy lamb. I never forget a customer," she said wisely tapping her head making her bangles clunk nosily against each other. "And especially such a happy one too."
Then she peered at Lisbon excitedly as if she had some sort of expectation and her face fell.
"You're not Riley," the woman said disappointed as if she were informing Lisbon of her own identity.
Who the hell was this Riley?
"How is she anyway?" the woman said turning back to Jane. "And little Emily, she must be going on nine yea-"
"Actually Claudia," Jane said cutting her off but still smiling although there was something forced about it. Lisbon looked at him confused. "My friend, Teresa, wants to get some flowers for her sister in law."
Claudia beamed at Jane. "Well, you know where they are, dear."
After much deliberation and suggestions from Claudia, Lisbon decided on an enormous arrangement of long stemmed red roses and baby's breath in a crystal vase. Lisbon loved roses and thought Elizabeth would too.
She noticed Jane's quiet coldness as he stood silently by her as she paid for them but never commented on it. He was clearly deep in thought glaring at the beautiful roses with concentration as if the flowers were under interrogation.
He never got his wife roses. He knew she only liked them in garden. Roses from the florist had no scent and for some reason they always reminded Riley of serial killers…..
Jane stopped himself. Thoughts like that were dangerous. Just thinking about her like that in a public place with such casual carelessness. No, those thoughts and memories were only to be opened at home.
They walked back to the hospital in silence. Lisbon wasn't sure whether Jane was supposed to leave or stay but he followed her none the less. They went back into the elevator to go up to the room where Elizabeth had been moved. This time the elevator was not empty.
There they were squashed into the back of the elevator with an excited family, their arms overflowing with flowers and balloons. Lisbon noticed Jane had his arms wrapped protectively around his stomach as if he was hugging himself close so all that joy couldn't hurt him.
This behaviour was weird but Lisbon wasn't about to mention it. It was only a matter of time before he would start asking questions about her little meltdown. And she would prefer it later rather than sooner.
The pediatrician came in to check up on baby Catherine.
The man flipped her this way and that and held her in one palm with casual expertise like a basketballer and Tommy and Elizabeth blurted out in unison; "Careful!"
The pediatrician chuckled and said; "Your daughter gets ten out of ten, an A plus!"
They all applauded at their daughter for her first ever good mark while he wrapped her up in her blanket, a neat packet of fish and chips and ceremoniously presented her to Elizabeth.
After his mother died, Tommy longed to gather everybody he loved and stow them safely under his bed with his favourite toys. Sometimes the stress would be so overwhelming, Teresa would have to bring him a paper bag to breathe into. His ever practical sister. His amazing sister.
How could she say she wasn't a good sister? Of course she was! Teresa was his support system throughout his entire life. The one thing that he could always trust and depend on. He called her to discuss everything. The dramas of college, after break ups and before terrifying dates, best way to get rid of red wine stains, if he should propose to Elizabeth, worrying about being a father….
When he would hear Teresa's voice on the phone it was just like each time he'd called home on that disastrous trip around Europe when he was nineteen and trying to kid himself that he had a different personality – an adventurous, extroverted sort of personality: the sort of person who loves exploring cathedrals and ruins all day on his own, talking to girls from Australia in youth hostels all night.
When really he was homesick and bored and couldn't understand any of the train timetables.
The sound of Teresa's voice, decisive and clear in some strange phone box on the other side of world made Tommy's knees buckle with relief and he'd press his forehead against the glass and think "That's right I am a real person."
The only good thing that resulted in that trip was meeting Libby. Elizabeth was shy and terribly homesick too from England.
Tommy hated his shyness and always longed to be more like Teresa as a child.
"Oh, Tommy, he's okay, but he's a nothing sort of person."
A nothing sort of person. The girl had said it with such casualness, without malice as if it was a fact and at that age, Tommy had felt cold with the official confirmation of what he'd always believed.
Yes, of course he was boring. Other peoples personalities were so substantial.
However when he was eight, another girl, Morgan Jones, her name had been leaned over his desk and said: "You've got a face like a pig."
And that just confirmed something he'd always suspected: Teresa was wrong when she said that his nose was cute as a button. It wasn't a nose, it was a snout. It was bad enough worsening his insecurities after just losing his father as well.
Of course, being the fierce motherly protector Teresa had become, she retaliated to the offending remark that resulted in her suspension which caused grief to his older brother Jeremy and his partner Rebecca who became their guardians.
But that didn't matter. Teresa was his sister. The best most supportive sister that he could ever have hoped for. He didn't know anything in the world that could change his mind of that.
He looked at his darling Libby and Catherine and wondering how on Earth he had managed to get so lucky.
He was still full of insecurities from his childhood when he went on his first date with Elizabeth in Europe (on the advice from Teresa, of course) and ever since they had been together he was convinced that one day she was going to wake up and think 'Hey, wait a second, how did I end up married to this boring boy with his nothing personality and pig like face?'
But she never did.
Lisbon wondered whether Jane was going to follow her right into Tommy and Elizabeth's room. But he stayed outside the door gesturing that she should enter. She took a deep breath and walked in putting on a big smile.
"You're back!" Tommy exclaimed looking more like his five year old self than ever. Lisbon had to smile at her brother and placed the bouquet of roses in the crystal vase next to Elizabeth's bed.
"Thank you, Teresa," Elizabeth said brightly in her lovely English accent that won Lisbon over the first time Tommy had brought her home. "They're beautiful."
"I think the mother of my niece deserves them," she said taking her hand. "Congratulations Libby. I'm so happy for you both."
"And about naming her after Mum and me," she started. "I don't know what to-"
"You don't need to say anything," Elizabeth pressed. "You've always been there for us during this time. You bought me my first present for the baby. Tiny socks."
Teresa had been the first person Tommy and Elizabeth had called after they had done eight pregnancy tests (just in case the first seven were wrong). She had been so excited. She turned up with champagne (For Tommy and I, not you!) a copy of What to Expect when You're Expecting and the socks.
Lisbon remembered the baby shower. She remembered standing in the kitchen helping Elizabeth and Tommy when Elizabeth said 'I think the baby has hiccups.'
Tommy pressed his hand to her stomach then grabbed Teresa's hand and held it there so Teresa felt the freaky fish movements too.
She had such a clear memory of their faces: eyes shining, flushed with the excitement and wonder of it all. They were lovely. They were her favourite couple.
She used to secretly watch Tommy listening to Elizabeth when she told a story: that tender, proud look he got on his face the way he laughed harder than anyone else when she said something funny.
He made Elizabeth feel more confident, funnier, smarter. He brought out all the good things that were there already and let her fully be herself so she seemed to shine with this inner light. He loved her so much he made her seem even more lovable. Lisbon adored it.
"Where is the little rascal, then?" Lisbon asked.
"In the nursery," Tommy replied. He turned to Elizabeth. "You should get some sleep now, I'll go sort out the discharge forms."
Look at him, Lisbon thought fondly and sadly, making decisions and being responsible.
They convinced her to go down to the nursery and 'spend time' with Catherine. She didn't know exactly what that entailed. It was hard to entertain an infant. Surprisingly, Jane had not left from his spot and was waiting for her. "Coming?" she asked as she walked down the hall. He followed after her obediently.
The nursery was quiet and loud at the same time. Glass cribs with plastic cards reading the babies names were lined up in organised rows. Some were sleeping, whimpering softly, others crying gently and some cooing adorably to themselves wrapped up in blue or pink blankets.
A nurse with stunning green eyes that matched her hospital uniform stood at the end of the room with a clipboard. She smiled at them.
"Which one are you after?" she said softly.
"Catherine Lisbon," Lisbon said feeling weird. She led them down the room and to a crib with a bundle wrapped in a pink blanket that was crying softly.
Before the nurse left, Lisbon commented on her green eyes and the nurse smiled and said they were coloured contacts.
"Oh," Lisbon said, feeling duped.
Jane looked at her expectantly. Oh, she thought. She supposed to pick the baby up. Lisbon carefully put awkwardly lifted the baby into her arms. This made Catherine's gentle whining to explode into fully fledged tears that orchestrated the rest of the nursery to burst out into tears as well, like dogs howling.
"Shh," she said quickly to the baby. "Please stop."
Jane looked pained with indecision. He so desperately wanted to tell Lisbon what to do and yet he was too selfishly afraid of getting hurt. Then Lisbon looked up at him with pleading eyes.
"You need to hold her against your chest more firmly," he told her. "The sound of your heartbeat will calm her."
Lisbon tried this but the baby screamed louder at the movement.
Jesus, she thought, please shut up little Tommy. I'm not torturing you!
Jane sighed and held out his arms. "Let me show you," he said.
Lisbon placed Catherine carefully in his arms.
"Careful of her head," Lisbon said quickly. "You have to support-"
"I know," he said lightly nestling Catherine in to the crook of his elbow and she stopped howling immediately. "I have done this before, Teresa."
Oh shit, Lisbon thought feeling the colour drain out of her face. She felt like slapping her forehead. Of course, you stupid idiot! She hadn't even considered the pain that this must be causing Jane. She felt terrible. It was almost as bad as what she felt in the elevator.
"Jane, I…I'm so sorry," she said quietly.
"Don't be sorry," he said in a light forced tone. "Not everyone is good at babies."
Lisbon knew that Jane knew that wasn't what she was apologising for.
She tried to imagine Jane before the CBI. She had just thought he had sprung in to being in his three piece suit.
It was so hard to imagine Jane, her pain-in-the-ass Jane, as a husband and a father. Just the sheer impossibility of it made her want to giggle…then cry at his loss.
She tried to imagine a beautiful woman by his side and a downy-haired baby in his arms. The mystery of his wife intrigued her. What was she like? Shy? Bubbly? Graceful? Clumsy? Jane must have adored her. She must have been amazing and slightly insane to lock her life with Patrick Jane's forever. Just five hours a day at CBI was more than enough Jane for her.
They had a child too. Fancy that, Jane as a father. What a responsibility. She wouldn't trust Jane with a fish. His wife must have been the sensible one. Then again, what sensible person would ever marry Patrick Jane? Or maybe he was different then. Happy. She longed to know. To know more about these two mysterious people who seemed to be the centre point of all that was Patrick Jane.
It would be so much easier to understand his unbearable bloodthirsty need for revenge if she knew who it was exactly he was fighting for.
But she never asked. She just had to hope that one day their friendship would be strong enough for him to tell her about them. And she would listen.
Lisbon looked back at Jane who was cradling the baby with such easy familiarity that her heart broke for him.
Maybe she wasn't the only one who needed fixing.