Disclaimer – As cool as it would be to be a member of Team Heller, it's evident I'm not. Therefore I don't own any part of the Mentalist TV series and am not making any money off these stories.

Thanks to Cumberland River Relic for beta reading this and all the other chapters. Go check out CRR's hysterically funny Mentalist piece "Good Minions Are So Hard To Find These Days"

Chapter 21

For Teresa, the worst part of the wake was the display of flowers.

Two metal cremation urns, both silver with burnished gold accents, sat side-by-side on a white-clothed table. Flanking them were two undersized arrangements of flowers that she felt impelled by the funeral home to order.

Lilies of all things. She'd hated them since her mother's funeral in that very viewing parlor. The feeling was reinforced in another parlor of that same building after her dad died six years later.

Her mother never hated flowers. If anything, she was a master gardener, having taken the poor soil around their Emerald Avenue home and turning it into flower patches that were the envy of the street. She had a touch, a unique ability to make a spot of loveliness in the dull, lower-middle class neighborhood.

Teresa tried to keep it up, remembering everything her mom had taught her about gardening, but it soon became clear that she'd never manage it. At first she blamed herself for not having the skill, but then she realized that caring for her brothers and her increasingly infirmed father simply didn't allow the time needed to care for it. Painful though it was, she allowed the weeds to take over, strangling the remaining joy from flowers out of Teresa's heart.

Patrick's light sigh brought her out of her brown study, and she looked at him as he sat next to her. By the look in his eyes, it seemed he was miles away.

And years. Probably back to his own history with a double funeral.

She leaned toward him, slipping her hand onto his knee.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

His eyes widened ever so slightly and the corner of his mouth turned up.

"Much better," he said, placing his hand atop hers. "I was just thinking of all the funerals and memorial services we've attended together over the years, relating to cases and whatnot."

Such a sad thought. As good as his memory was, he was probably remembering every last one of them, whereas she probably only recalled barely a third. It was still a lot.

"It seems different when it's for your own," she said.

He shrugged and clasped his fingers around her hand. "I don't see much difference. I didn't feel much comfort from those who attended Angela and Charlotte's burials, and I can't say that anyone has ever been glad to see me at theirs."

The man was exasperating. He was still completely unaware of the good he did in the world.

"Well, I'm glad you're here, anyway. I don't think I could do all this alone."

He removed his hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"You'd do fine," he said, giving her a squeeze. He stood and looked around the empty room. "I'm going to get a cup of tea. Can I bring you something?"

She pulled out her cellphone and checked the clock.

"Father Barnes will be here in fifteen minutes. I probably shouldn't start a cup of coffee."

Something pulled his gaze from hers and he stared toward the entrance to the room. A smirk spread onto his face.

"The professional mourners are here," he said softly. "There go all the cookies."

Teresa looked over to a group of little old church ladies entering the room, headed by none other than Lily MacGyver.

"Go turn on the charm, Patrick. Get 'em to buy you a cup of tea."

He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "Maybe I can find myself a rich bride."

She winced in reply. "And here I was hoping you'd stay out of trouble."

"You should keep your expectations low," he said, walking away.

She let him go without another word, appreciating how dull the morning probably had been for him. It was for her. Since the visitation period had begun at nine that morning, there had been only about a dozen people, mostly contractors who had worked with Tommy over the years. There had also been one of Annie's instructors from college and two of her fellow students. They asked about Daniel, forcing her to explain about being required to surrender him to DCFS until a legal guardian could be assigned. Only by Patrick placing a firm hand on her lower back did she find the strength to hold back tears.

She looked at the urns again.

I'm doing my best, guys. I'm doing my very best.

Glaring at the small vases of flowers on either side, she felt her jaw tighten with her sudden resolve.

And I will love flowers again, dammit. Even lilies.

"Ms Lisbon?"

Teresa looked up. Mrs. Sohn stood a few feet away, her hands clasped in front of her.

"I just wanted to come by and pay my respects. And also update you on Daniel's grandparents."

Grandparents? Promptly Teresa stood and smoothed her clothing. "Yes…uhm, why don't you come to the lounge so we… we can… talk."

When she last met Felicia Sohn, Teresa was full of churning emotions. Mostly she wanted to leave a good impression with the caseworker, letting her know that she was a loving person in an impossible situation, hoping it would be clear that she wasn't a bad person for giving Daniel up to the state care system. It had been unnerving but she got through it.

Now the weight of the situation crushed her like a granite wall falling on her, and she almost stuttered in response to Sohn's question about how she was doing.

"Fine. We're… doing okay….Still looking for life insurance or a will for my brother."

"And the Vogelsteins' as well."

Teresa stared a moment. "Annie's inlaws?"

"No, Annabeth and Jared's. Records show they recorded one, but I can't get a copy for a week or so. If you can find their copy by the hearing on Monday, Daniel's future can be settled definitely."

"What…Why would someone that young have a will?"

Doubt crossed Mrs. Sohn's face, and as she opened her mouth to answer, Jane stepped up.

"Jared's insistence. He changed his college major recently, probably after he and Annie got married."

Teresa was used to Patrick Jane's seemingly out-of-thin-air statements of so-called facts. She rolled her eyes. The social worker, on the other hand, was startled and confused.

"But…Mr. Jane, you and Ms. Lisbon said during the interviews that you didn't know what their intentions were."

"Well…I don't know exactly, but I've learned a few things. Jared's contact lens prescription was newly issued and his clothes were new. He was improving himself. Also he sent an email to his father-in-law asking if Tommy could babysit while he kept an appointment with his counselor at school. On top of that, we know they were looking to buy a house in Milwaukee, so they were planning to live in a cheaper market so he could go to school longer. The whole family went along with it. On top of that, he and Annie were studying the field of law and law enforcement, something that makes a man...thoughtful. Simply put, he was planning ahead."

"Stop showing off, Jane," she groaned.

Mrs. Sohn stared for a moment and then nodded. "That makes good sense."

"But the question is where the wills are." Patrick asked.

"No, the question is what did Jared's parents say about Daniel. Will they take him?"

The case worker heaved a sigh. "Well, I'm afraid I gained no points today for calling on the Sabbath. They were pretty upset with me either way. The truth of the matter is they didn't approve of Jared's marriage to Annie, primarily because she was an atheist. Also…"

A sour expression came over her face and she looked embarrassed.

"Really, I shouldn't say anything, but…it is looking bleak for Daniel, to be honest." She swallowed and gave a curt nod. "Jared's parents indicated that they felt he was tricked into marrying Annabeth. They don't want anything to do with Daniel because they don't believe he's their son's boy."

The next thing Lisbon remembered was Patrick fanning her face, staring at her closely. He knelt on one knee in front of her as she was sitting in a chair by the refreshment table. Hadn't she just been standing?

Something was handed to him and next she felt a cold wet towel on her wrist. She looked at it and then back at him.

"Patrick," she whispered, afraid that anything else would come out as a yell. "Why is this happening? He's just a little baby…"

"I know, my dear lady, I know."

"It's so wrong to…to…just throw him…away."

He rose from his knee and settled in the seat next to her. "We won't do that, Teresa." He glanced at Mrs. Sohn and the other people standing nearby, frustration flooding the concern off his face. "Just…just a little longer. We'll work out something that's best for him. He deserves it."

Someone thrust a bottle of water towards her. He took it and tried to put it in her hand.

"Drink this, sweet lady. You're dehydrated from…how hard this has been. Try to take care of yourself, Teresa."

What she wanted was a shot of tequila, but water would have to do. She accepted the bottle and took a drink.

"Take some more," he said, touching her hand. "I think Father Barnes arrived, so he's going to want to say a prayer over the remains before transport to the church."

She glanced at Sohn and took another sip before putting the cap back on.

"Let's go."

To be continued…