Return to Sacramento: Chapter 5
Oh my gosh, THANKS SO MUCH everyone! I got a lot of reviews, BUT that's not the awesome thing. The awesome thing is that I don't think there was one "Like it write more"-review! Every single one had suggestions! You guys are rock stars and I love you all to bits!
Disclaimer: Nope, still nothing
Teresa Lisbon woke in the warm and solid confines of her husband's arms. Opening her sleepy eyes, his face – still and gentle in deep sleep – was the first thing she saw. A slow smile started to spread across her face as the sleepiness slowly faded into consciousness. Craning her head a little, she caught a glimpse of the alarm clock on his bedside: 09:42.
They had to get up if they wanted to catch breakfast. Slowly and reluctantly she pulled herself from Jane's hold and clambered out of the warm bed, tiptoeing to the bathroom to take a shower.
The sound of the running water woke Jane, who groggily groaned at the cold and empty bed he found himself in. Not his favourite way to wake up.
Usually he was the early riser – Teresa wasn't exactly a morning person, and the only way to wake her up in the mornings is with a steaming and aromatic cup of coffee – so he enjoyed the fantastic privilege of waking with her in his arms every morning. She was at her most adorable when she was sleeping, he believed. Her face was completely at peace; although he absolutely loved the quirked eyebrows, little frowns and how she expressed her emotions so beautifully through her face, the silence and gentleness that was on her face when she slept... it had to be his favourite. Somehow, even after falling flat in exhaustion at night into dead sleep with no tossing and turning whatsoever, she always managed to get a bedhead. Her dark hair would stand tangled and messy above her head, begging his fingers to run through it, feel the silky texture. And that little pout of hers; her mouth always forms the cutest little pout, probably the rarest of all the things that happened when she sleeps. When in your life would you see a pout like that on super-professional Special Agent Lisbon? Never. It appeared only on the sleepy mouth of Teresa, reserved only for him, her husband.
Sighing in disappointment that he would have to go without his little morning pleasures, he got up and went through the normal routine. He started the kettle that stood in the little kitchenette by the minibar, took out the cups for his tea and her coffee, and started picking out the three-piece suit he'd wear the day from his suitcase.
When Teresa, wrapped in a towel with her hair still soaking wet and clinging to her face, walked out of the bathroom and gave him his morning kiss, taking the coffee thankfully, he headed to the bathroom to get a shower himself.
He had just finished and was buttoning up his shirt, when he heard the scream come from the room next door – Jess' room.
At the first sound of the scream, Jane's blood went icy cold in his veins. Everything around him ceased to exist as he ran to the door.
What he saw there made his heart stop.
Teresa was clutching Jess – whose eyes were still very much sleepy and completely confused – and she was sobbing heavily as she stroked her daughter's hair and seemed to chant things to herself over and over again: You're okay, you're okay, Mommy's here, I promise nothing will ever happen to you, you're okay...
Beside them, on the bedside table, it lay.
Despite the fact that he was a few feet away, standing in the doorway, he could clearly distinguish exactly what it was.
It was a rather large picture frame that faced the door just so that you can't help but see it as you enter; the picture inside was one that he knew all too well. It was the same image sent him into a mad breakdown; that plagued him many years in nightmares, and still, in his weaker moments, made him feel the need to seek some comfort, unable to deal with the broken feelings alone anymore.
The image he saw that night, as he opened the door to reveal what Red John had done. The wall of his bedroom, spoiled and stained by the horrible mark made in his beloved wife's blood. Beneath it, in the picture, you could just see the bed peeking from the bottom. And her blood head just sticking out from the covers.
Thankfully the picture cut off the slashes he knew lay just beneath...
And right beside the picture frame lay a blood red rose. Like a favor, left there for them to find.
As he stood frozen in the doorframe he realized how terrible it must've been for Teresa to walk in here and see that thing standing there. Beside their daughter.
Surely the first thought that crossed her mind – as it would've his, if he couldn't see with his own two eyes that Jess was there, alive and well and very confused – that Red John had somehow returned, found them and killed their daughter.
The shock subsided just a little bit, just enough to allow him to move from the spot and he quickly made his way to the bedside, turning the picture frame down so that there would be no way Jess could see the picture inside.
Then he bent down and encircled both his girls, standing behind Teresa so he can whisper in her ear. "It's okay, Teresa. Calm down, sweetie, she's okay, she's okay..."
Short chapter, but I'm starting to feel incredibly uninspired with this fic... I might need some more feedback from you guys throughout, because – I'm not sure if it feels this way to you too – but this feels like one of the driest fics I've ever written...
Much love, Zanny