Return to Sacramento: Chapter 4
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"We shouldn't have stayed out so late. She fell asleep way past her bedtime; we're gonna pay for this tomorrow..."
"Oh, will you hush, woman? We're on vacation. She'll sleep a little later than usual and so will we. No harm done." Jane teased, embracing Lisbon from the back as she tucked Jessie into her bed. "Now... why don't you slowly back away from the baby... close the door... and then you and me can have some Mommy-Daddy alone time." He said, smiling and nuzzling her neck lovingly.
She chuckled at him, turning in his arms and giving him a quick peck on the lips. "You're incorrigible, you know that? Completely incorrigible."
They backed out of Jess' room and softly closed the door behind them.
"I'm glad we came on this trip in the end. I was nervous that things would be awkward after so long, but tonight was really fun." She said as she mechanically took the throw pillows off the king sized bed and pulled the duvet and sheets back.
On the other side of the bed, Jane was doing the same; their coordinated and routinely movements made him smile just a little at the domestic image they made. If someone told him five years ago that he'd be here, experiencing the little pleasures of married life, he'd have laughed in their faces. But here he was.
"What are you smiling at?" Lisbon asked as she clambered into the bed, cuddling into the cool mattress.
He realized that his little smile had turned into a goofy grin, and he chuckled as he joined her, wrapping her tightly in his arms and the duvet until all the coldness was exhiled from her little form. "Have I ever told you that I love being married to you?"
He expected the familiar pink blush that came – like clockwork. It's like he once said: men are like toasters. Women are like accordions. And there are some buttons that he knew how to push. A few favorite notes he knew exactly how to play... Not to say that, even after a kid and years of marriage, he could play Lisbon like an instrument; it seemed that every day, she did or said something that surprised him. Once in a while he'd find an unexpected false note; more often, a yet-undiscovered beautiful new harmony. That's what he loved most about her, he decided as they cuddled in the comfortable duvet in their hotel room.
After a few minutes of lovingly stroking her hair and holding her, he tentatively whispered into the air: "Teresa? Are you still awake?"
"Yeah." She said, slightly tired but still awake.
"Good." He pulled her up and kissed her, surprising her and making her giggle against his lips.
X
On the other side of the door, the room was dimly lit by moonlight streaming in through the thin curtains and a little girl's favorite nightlight; the bundle of sheets and blankets that lay upon the bed – slowly rising and falling with every breath of the child beneath them – was barely illuminated.
Silent, but for the gentle snoring of the child and the muffled voices of her bantering parents next door.
The floor didn't creak and no footsteps were heard, but a shadow flashed across the wall. Soundlessly, as if floating just above the floor, the shadow-man walked closer and closer towards the bed. He walked right to the bedside and craned his neck to look at the tiny face that peeked out of the covers.
A beautiful girl. At first glance she looked like her mother - light, ivory skin and dark curls that smelled like apples and cinnamon. But despite the initial similarities, she had some definite features from her father as well. The same eyes, he knew, bright blue and seeing. The same smile.
Yes, definitely a very beautiful girl. Very different from another little girl he was looking at like this many, many years ago. She was blonde and smelled like sweat and strawberries and cream. But she had very similar eyes as the girl in front of him.
Gently with a feather-light touch, he reached out and tucked a stray lock from Jess' forehead and placed it back behind her ear. She shifted a little in her sleep – the deep and dream-filled sleep of an innocent little girl, unspoiled by the world – but she didn't wake.
Then he pulled away and pulled something from his pocket; slowly, methodically he placed the object on the bedside table – angled just right that it would be the first thing to notice when the door across the way it opened.
Perfect.
And with one last smirk, he left the same way he came.
Leaving only the sleeping child and the silence of the night.
Okay, so that was much, much shorter than intended... but it wrote itself. And if I told you what the object is now, it'll be totally ruined. Next chapter, you'll find out what it was, what it means, and... lunch with the team. Probably. And soon thereafter the Annual.
I need suggestions, though, because I'm stumped for a big, dramatic, original face-off scene.
Much love, Zanny