A/N: I sincerely apologize for the wait in this story. I was busy over break and didn't really have time to post anything. I hope that you enjoy the last chapter. Please review and tell me what you think!
Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist no matter how many times I wish for it.
They had been dating for two months now and had somehow managed to keep it quiet. Of course, she didn't particularly like the term 'dating', but there wasn't an alternative. The term itself seemed childish, but 'going out' was just as bad. She didn't even want to contemplate the idea of 'seeing each other' and the connotations that it carried.
Much to her initial surprise, Jane had been given his job back. He was still able to work with the SCU. Hightower had allowed them the personal relationship as long as it didn't affect their work. He wasn't an agent and therefore, was given certain leniencies that others would not be allowed. She had told him they were going to take things slow and, to his credit, he had agreed. That first night had left them both a little confused.
Of course, one night could change your entire life. She, of all people, should know that. Her mother had been killed by a drunk driver at night. Now, those words rang true once again. Usually around this time of night, she would be enjoying one last cup of her delicious coffee. There was just one problem; the smell of coffee made her nauseous. The taste actually made her physically sick. Her mornings were worse, much worse. She had never been much of a morning person, but the fatigue was beginning to get to her. Of course, the occasional run to the bathroom to empty the contents of her stomach didn't help either.
Two days ago, she realized she was late, really late. Her job as a cop had never really done wonders for her regularity. The past few months had been extremely stressful to the point that she couldn't imagine living without stress. So, being the intelligent woman that she was, she made an appointment with her doctor. He had done a blood test. The result of that test was the current reason for her sitting at her kitchen table. In fact, she had been there for the past half an hour staring at the same piece of paper.
She was pregnant.
With Patrick Jane's child.
Oh, Lord in Heaven.
This was definitely not a good thing. She sighed and put her head in her hands for the umpteenth time that night. The paper lay, taunting her, only inches away. Her usual defense mechanism took over and she became angry. She balled up the test results and threw them across the kitchen. The paper ball bounced of the cabinets and onto the floor where it stopped. Her emotions threatened to completely overtake her, but she fought them. Miraculously, she kept the tears at bay. In the back of her mind, a voice told her the extra stress would be bad for her, but she didn't care right now. She couldn't relinquish the control that had taken her years to perfect.
Her bed beckoned to her. She was utterly exhausted after such a long and emotional day. She didn't want to go to bed simply because she didn't want to have to wake up in the morning. She could deal with being tired, had been for ages. No, this was different; she knew she would wake up and feel drained. Her mornings recently had been spent battling the nausea leaving her spent at the end of the day. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she opted for the bed. She would have to somehow talk to him tomorrow, and she needed all the energy she could muster to do that.
She saw him sitting on her couch when she walked into her office. One deep breath was followed by another and another as she tried to gather her courage. He met her eyes after the third breath and she knew he knew. In fact he had probably known before she had.
There was a cup of steaming…something on her desk. It wasn't coffee; that much she knew. She also noted the tea bag in her trashcan as she passed by it. Genuinely curious, she walked up to it to study it better. Eventually, she sat in her desk chair refusing to touch the beverage.
"It'll settle your stomach," he offered a few minutes later as he moved to the chair opposite her desk. She still hadn't stopped eyeing it with uncertainty
"Who said I was sick?" she snapped at him. For some reason she wanted to be angry with him. It would make it easier if he just told her what she knew. She didn't want to voice it out loud. She wasn't sure her voice would work if she tried.
"Teresa, I've known for three weeks now," he said softly. He didn't offer an explanation of how he had known and that bothered her. She shifted in her seat and sighed. Defeated, she reached into her briefcase and handed him the crumpled test results. He attempted to smooth them out, but refrained from commenting. She was grateful for his silence.
He stared at the results for a few minutes before finally looking at her. She caught his eye and took a sip out of the mug on her desk. Surprisingly, it did help to settle her stomach a little. Maybe she could keep what was left of her breakfast where it belonged. She watched him reach into his pocket, his eyes back to the paper in his hands. A restaurant packet of saltines found their way to her desk. She eyed them as suspiciously as she had the mug.
"It was the only thing I could get on such short notice. I didn't know you had made a doctor's appointment until this morning while I was at the diner," he said almost apologetically. She decided she wasn't going to ask how he knew about her appointment. He was Jane after all.
"What are they for?" she asked wrinkling her nose at them.
"They are for you to eat, Teresa. You need to eat something and keep it down so that hopefully you can keep your lunch down. No more skipping meals," he said seriously. He caught her eye as he said the last sentence. There was no hint of teasing in his tone.
At first, she was taken aback by his concern. It only lasted an instant though, as she became angry. She of all people does not need to be taken care of. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, had done it for years.
"I can take care of myself, Patrick," she told him with assurance.
"It's not just you I worry about, Teresa," he responded softly. His eyes glanced down at her desk aimed at her still flat stomach. She suddenly felt overwhelmed. It took her a minute, but she regained control before she went over the edge. Emotions will not help this situation at all.
"Patrick, I am fine," she reiterated.
"You are not fine," he exploded suddenly with anger that she had only seen a few times before and never directed at her, "You are not sleeping, not eating, and you are stressed more than ever. In the morning, you can't keep anything down, and that will sometimes drift into the afternoon. Your solution is to skip lunch. On top of that, you are scared out of your mind. Teresa, you are definitely not fine."
She had never before considered the role he would play in all of this before now. They hadn't been together long enough to become integral parts of each other's lives. She realized how wrong she actually was. They had been relying on each other long before they had started a relationship. It took his outburst to solidify that fact for her.
"I'm moving in tomorrow," he said as he stood up, "and staying over tonight."
She opened her mouth to argue once again. She closed it when he actually glared at her. His eyes seemed to bore into her soul for an instant and she was silenced. Her shock must not have registered on her face or he chose to ignore it because he continued unhindered.
"I'll stay on the couch if you want. You do not have to go through this alone, Teresa, and I am not going to let you," he said. He began to pace about her office and she couldn't pay attention to his continued mumbling. She was too stunned by the turn of events to listen. He had ripped control of the situation right out of her capable hands and placed it in his (probably) more capable hands. He knows more than she does about this anyway. She caught the end of his mumbling when he talked about baby proofing her apartment. That was not something she had thought about doing this early.
"It's never too early to baby proof, Teresa," he said and continued to pace. She had to remember that he could practically read her mind on a bad day.
"I'm going to talk to Hightower about getting you out of field work. Then I'm going to check the CBI policy on leave for me and for you. You and I will go talk to Cho later and tell him why he is taking over all work in the field," he finished and left her office, intent on his mission.
It was in that moment, she realized that any fragment of control she thought she might have had was gone. Yet, she really didn't mind giving it to him. Her hands drifted to cover her stomach and she wondered how many times she would do this in the coming months. She was suddenly much calmer than she had been for weeks and she couldn't quite figure out why. Her mind drifted to consider the conversation that had just ended. It clicked in an instant why she was relaxed. She trusted him to take control of the situation. She trusted him and that was all that mattered.