AN: Thanks again for your support of this story! Without further ado, here's chapter 23...
Jane opens the door to the hotel room and feels his jaw drop.
"Alright, I'm paying you back for half of this," he says, immediately feeling guilty. The room is beyond lavish—from the mahogany furniture to the enormous flat screen television to the towel on the bed that's folded in the shape of some exotic flower that Jane can't name.
Lisbon brushes past him into the room, shaking her head. "Jane, you're being ridiculous. I make good money. More than you do, I might add. And I hardly ever splurge on anything. Let me get this one."
She deposits her bag on the floor and heads to the window, where she opens the curtain to get a better view of the city at night.
He makes to follow her but freezes when his eyes dart back to the bed.
Back in Chicago, he'd booked two.
There's only one in this room.
He's suddenly nervous, and he keeps his hands at his sides, knowing that if he raises them at all, his shaking fingers will be all too obvious. He feels a little lightheaded, and his vision tunnels for a second before he gets himself back under control.
But despite all this, he feels a small smile cross his face.
He tears his gaze away from the champagne comforter and moves to Lisbon's side in three steps. Then he reaches out for her hip tentatively, somewhat amazed that despite the bright lights and pull of the city 28 floors below him, he only has eyes for her.
She leans into him, and suddenly he can't breathe.
Picking up on the tension in his muscles, Lisbon turns in his arms. "You alright?"
He nods. "Of course."
She sighs. "I'm going to ask that question again, and you're not going to lie to me this time. Patrick, are you alright?"
He can't control it; his eyes flash to the bed.
Lisbon reads him immediately.
"Did I overstep?" she asks tentatively.
He shakes his head. "No," he manages to get out. "I just…it's, ah…it's been a while for me." He glances down at her eyes before looking away again. "But you already knew that." He feels her grab his hand as he continues. "I guess what I'm trying to say is…I'm nervous."
He can't immediately pinpoint the look that crosses her face. But then Lisbon bites her bottom lip, and he thinks she's trying to stop her eyes from misting over.
She raises her other hand to rest on the back of his neck. "I love when you're honest with me," she whispers.
Jane pushes down the flood of guilt that washes over him at these words, choosing instead to focus on their positive connotations.
Lisbon rocks forward onto her toes, brushing a kiss against the corner of his mouth. "It's after midnight," she says. "I'm exhausted. And so are you; I can tell." She gives him a look he's never seen before. It's soft and unsure yet strong all at once. "Will you just hold me tonight?"
Her hand slides from his neck to his chest, coming to rest over his heart, which gradually starts to pump less erratically.
"I love you," he says, and he lets her pull him toward the bed.
They end up wandering through Central Park around midday, finally settling under a large tree in order to escape the blazing intensity of the summer sun. They fall into a comfortable silence, stealing glances at one another while pretending to people watch.
About fifteen minutes after sitting down, Lisbon speaks. "I'm glad you asked me to come here," she says. "I needed to get away for a while."
She's lying on her back, looking up at the leaves above them, one hand tucked behind her head. Jane props himself up on one elbow and looks over at her.
"How…how are you holding up?" he asks gently.
They haven't spoken much about Stan's death. They've spoken even less about how she is dealing with it.
"I miss him," Lisbon whispers. "And, uh, I mostly just feel like I've been carrying around this heavy weight since he died. Sometimes the weight makes it difficult to breathe." She looks over at him. "Is that how it felt when Angela and Charlotte died?"
He nods. "Kind of. For me, it was like there was a weight pulling me down underwater. When I was admitted to the hospital, suddenly there was this bubble of air around me—so even though I was underwater, I could still breathe."
"Do you think you'll ever resurface?" Lisbon asks.
"I already did," he says quietly.
Her brow furrows. "When?"
Jane shrugs. "It happened gradually, so I can't pinpoint it exactly. But I'm pretty sure it began around the moment I first shook your hand."
"Yeah?" She sounds like she can't quite believe him.
He smiles. "Yeah." He drapes his arm over her stomach. "So I promise you, that weight will lessen over time, Lisbon."
"But it won't go away?"
"Would you want it to?"
She shakes her head. "No."
He nods. "I feel the same. It's like you said—I carry them with me. Always." He looks down at his left hand as he speaks. "And on that topic," he says, "there's something I want to talk to you about."
Lisbon follows his gaze, rolling over onto her side so that she can face him. Her eyes move back to his.
Jane twists his ring. "I know you're too tactful to say anything about it, but I also know that you've been wondering when I will take off my ring. Or if I'll take it off at all."
Lisbon doesn't contradict him, and he is grateful. "I understand, Jane. I always have."
He sighs. "But just because you understand doesn't mean you're okay with it. And I'll be the first to admit you shouldn't be. I've seen the looks we've been getting at the hotel and at restaurants—people catch a glance of a ring on my finger but not on yours, and they assume the worst. I don't want that for you."
"And I don't give a damn what other people think."
He gives her a wry smile. "Then you're much stronger than I am," he admits. "Because I really can't stand the thought of people assuming the worst about you."
And he moves to twist the ring off his finger.
Lisbon reaches out to stop him. "Wait," she says. "I don't want you to take off the ring before you're ready."
The very fact that she says these words makes Jane more certain that he is, in fact, ready, and he pulls the band away. Lisbon breathes in sharply.
But then she shakes her head. "Jane, this shouldn't just be about me. You need to think of yourself, too." She sits up, pulling him with her, and she gestures for him to give her the ring. "I propose a compromise."
His insides somersault at her particular word choice, but he hands the ring over to her. Lisbon looks down and reaches for his right hand, sliding the band onto his ring finger. Then she looks up at him expectantly, still holding onto his hand. "Is this okay?"
He glances down to study their hands, both of his held in both of hers. There's a thin white band of light skin on his left ring finger, and Lisbon rubs her thumb over it reassuringly. Jane's eyes flash to his right hand. He's surprised to find how natural the ring looks there.
He realizes all at once what moving the ring means for him, and for a second he's overwhelmed by the realization that he no longer considers himself married.
But then he looks at Lisbon, who's still looking at him with a gaze of concern, and it occurs to him that he hasn't really considered himself married since before he fell in love with her.
He can't find it in himself to even get out the single syllable that a "yes" would require, so he nods instead, trying to get his emotions in check. But then he lets them show anyway, knowing that Lisbon deserves this truth far more than all the lies he's given her.
And almost as though his subconscious is aware of this, as though it wants to cancel these lies out with more truths, Jane begins speaking again without thinking about the words tumbling out of his mouth.
"I want to have another child," he blurts out.
He feels Lisbon's hands jerk suddenly under his own, and her eyes widen.
Jane shifts his hands so that he can grab hold of hers, and he pulls them toward his chest. "I've been thinking a lot about us," he begins. "About our future. I know it's kind of soon—okay, really soon—to start discussing this, but I want you to know how much you...this...us means to me, and making plans for the future seemed like a good way to do that."
He pauses to let her respond. When she remains silent, he begins to panic.
"Sorry," he says, looking away. The world is suddenly off-kilter. "That was too much. I should have known that was too much. I'm sorry."
She pulls her hands away from him. His heart sinks.
But then a hesitant finger lifts his chin, and her seeking lips encounter his own. The world becomes right again.
Lisbon presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth and pulls back slightly. "You just surprised me, that's all," she says. Her eyes are intense when he meets them. "I've thought about our future, too—and yes, I wondered if children were part of that future. But I was terrified to bring it up because I thought it would make you sad."
She doesn't have to mention Charlotte's name.
He reaches up to brush Lisbon's hair away from her face with trembling fingers. "Teresa, talking about having children with you elicits many emotions in me, but I can assure you that sadness is not one of them." He can't help smiling. "You're serious?"
Lisbon nods. "I've always wanted children."
"You've never said anything."
"I never thought I'd have the opportunity to have children of my own," she admits. "It was easier not to acknowledge that."
"So you'd be okay with...with starting a family?"
A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, and she nods. Then she blushes. "I think any child of ours is going to be absurdly adorable," she admits.
He grins. "Between the two of us, there's no chance of anything else than green eyes."
He watches as she visibly melts in response to these words. "Maybe a hint of blue," she says, moving her thumb up to brush the skin at the corner of his eye.
"Probably will be born with a full head of dark hair," Jane continues.
Lisbon reaches out to run a hand through Jane's curls. "I'm kind of partial to your coloring," she says.
Jane throws caution to the wind. "Our first might have your hair. Our second might have mine."
He watches as her hand moves to cover her abdomen. He doesn't think she's aware of the action, but it sends chills through Jane.
"I'd like that," she says finally.
Moisture is building in his eyes. He reaches for Lisbon, one hand at her lower back and one hand reaching to cover her own on her stomach, and encourages her to lie back down in the grass. She does, her normally-porcelain skin bright with flushed color.
"I'm on the pill," she says suddenly, her voice a mere whisper. "Should I not be?"
"Do we want to move that quickly?" He moves to lean over her, brushing his fingertips across her check. Her eyes flutter closed.
"I'm certainly not getting any younger," she murmurs. "But, uh..." She struggles for words, but Jane thinks he knows where she's going with this.
"I'd like to have you to myself for a little bit longer," he admits.
She smiles, her eyes still closed. "Good," she says. "So later...but not too late."
"Exactly."
He moves her hand, presses a kiss to her wrist, and then return his attention to her abdomen, lifting her shirt to brush his lips to the skin he's uncovered. She opens her eyes.
Even over the sounds around them—the bustle of the city, the high-pitched yells of children in the park—he can hear her breathing. He realizes with a jolt that the sounds of his breaths are just as loud. Jane looks up to meet Lisbon's eyes.
He's never seen them so dark.
"Hotel?" he whispers.
He knows she's just as frightened as he is, but he is relieved when she gives him a small smile.
He pulls her to her feet.