A/n Wow hello hello TM stans. It's been a while...
I've been wanting to get back and write Jisbon but I've been struggling for ideas. This one came to me a couple of days ago and I'm pretty sure it is my first 5+1 TM fic which seems surprising. It is one chapter with six different scenes included. I'm a little short on confidence because it has been such a long time since I've written this pairing, so any feedback would be great.
I hope you like it!– M
xxx
Breathe (A 5 + 1 Fic)
Like most evenings when she gets home from work, Jane is in the kitchen cooking them dinner. Turns out he is quite the cook, and all those years that he spent eating junk food and takeout whilst hiding in the attic at CBI he was wasting a genuine talent. Lisbon takes a difficult but deep breath in, and she can smell the ratatouille cooking from the entryway to her condo. It is one of her favourite dishes that he prepares. He usually spends ages cooking it on the stove, seasoning it perfectly, before he pours it into an oven dish, makes a few wells, and cracks eggs into the spaces. It is healthy and tasty… but right now Lisbon feels sick.
It isn't morning sickness, she is past that point, and it feels different. Maybe she is unwell. It would certainly explain the tightness to her chest. "Teresa?" Her husband calls from the kitchen. "You home?" He probably struggles to hear the front door opening and shutting when he is stood so close to the bubbling food.
"Yeah, will be through in a second!" She shouts back and places a flat hand over her chest. Her breaths are beginning to stutter, and her limbs vibrate. If this is an illness, then it isn't good at all. The thought makes her symptoms worsen.
Lisbon stumbles towards the staircase and sits herself down on the second to last step. Her senses are shouting at her, screaming, and it's overwhelming. Her heartbeat is loud and is thudding inside her head, and then there is the high-pitched tone ringing in her ears. When she goes to cover them with her shaking hands, she has to gasp for air. She can't breathe. Why can't she breathe?
The new sound that joins her noisy space is his approaching footsteps. "You short of breath honey?" He initially calming asks, but that's before he fully takes her in. Then Jane is rushing to her, crouching down in front of her quaking form. "Teresa, what's wrong?" He questions in a panic as his blue-green eyes study everything about her. Like the flowing tears down her cheeks, the hands covering her ears with the fingers weaved into her now messy dark locks, and her abnormal breathing pattern. He cannot help but think the worse.
It is difficult to keep his head when it is swimming with awful thoughts about what could have happened to cause this, but Jane swallows some of his anxiety and begins to pry her hands away from her head. It is hard when they seem to be locked in place and rigid, but the further he gets them from her head, the easiest it becomes. "That's it…" He tries to soothe her. "Let me hold them…" She manages to hear his relaxing tones through the loud heartbeat and the high-pitched whine, and it does help her lose some of the tension in her arms so he can lovingly hold her hands. Her tremoring hands.
Through her tears, Lisbon can see the clear worry on his face. Usually she would do whatever possible to stop that expression from appearing, he has had enough worry in the past to last a lifetime after all, but right now she has no power or energy to make whatever is happening to her stop. "I-I can't… breathe." She tells him, and she thinks she detects a flicker of realisation cross his face.
She's having a panic attack. That must be it. "Let's take some deep breaths together." He instructs while his thumbs gently rub at her knuckles. His subsequent intake of breath is exaggerated just so she has a chance of hearing it. It makes it easier for her to follow, he reasons, but truthfully he has little experience of how to deal with panic attacks. He makes a vow to look into it further in case it was to happen again. "That's it… breathe with me."
It takes some time, if he weren't so discombobulated by the shock of it all he would probably be able to say how many minutes exactly, but Teresa does begin to calm. Every breath she takes, her chest expands a little wider, and when he starts to get her to hold it there for a couple of beats in between inhaling and exhaling, he feels how her hands relax in his. Her skin still tingles but the vibrations aren't as near as violent, and it is becoming easier to breathe normally, if she ignores the stinging ache to her lungs. "W-what was that?" She manages to stammer, and she hates the weakness to her voice.
"I think it was a panic attack." Patrick says, not being able to hide the anxiety from his own. "You have had a big day."
He isn't wrong. Today was the day that everyone at work learnt of her pregnancy, and not just Cho who has known pretty much the entire time. Maybe it made it all feel a lot more real. "But…" Jane cocks his head to one side, patiently waiting for her to continue. "I don't get panic attacks. Not anymore."
"Anymore?" Teresa shrinks into herself with an embarrassment that her partner doesn't like to see. She doesn't have to be ashamed by this, but she clearly feels like she does. "Let me help you to the couch."
"What about dinner?"
"I thankfully turned the stove off when I came to greet you. I can continue cooking once I know you're okay."
Jane helps Lisbon off the step with a hand at the back of each of her elbows, with the rest of his arms under hers, to support her as he pulls backwards. It seems slightly unnecessary to her. She's fine, she can stand, but her legs do wobble a bit when her feet are flat against the floor. He snakes an arm around her waist to lead her to the living room, and more importantly his couch that he commandeered from the bullpen as soon as he left the FBI. It didn't take much persuading to get her to agree to have it in her house, but she has always loved it too, probably more than she would admit. It provides an instant comfort, and as he aids her to sit on one of the worn cushions, this occasion is no different.
He takes a seat on the couch angled towards her and holds her hands again. They're so close that her right knee bumps his left. "I didn't know that you get panic attacks." He tells her and she dips her head with her eyes screwed shut, displaying that shame once again. "You don't need to hide from me."
"I-I'm not hiding." She mumbles. "I haven't had a panic attack in years. My last one was before law enforcement, before Red John, before we even knew each other. I haven't hidden anything from you."
"That's not what I meant." Jane explains. "I meant you don't need to hide what's going on in your head right now. I'm not going anywhere." He then brings their conjoined hands up to his lips and plants delicate kisses to both sets of his wife's knuckles. It feels nice. Having someone there. It certainly felt like she had no-one when she last experienced panic attacks.
"I was an anxious child, but my mom helped me a lot." Lisbon begins whilst trying to ignore the voice in the back of her mind shouting at her to be quiet. "After she died, I had to step up and be the maternal figure when I was just a kid myself. It made me panic at times. I had to get a hold of myself. I had to be a strong figure for my brothers." She can picture their faces now, but not them as they are now. Them as children. Innocent children who lost their mother and were left with their father. "I also didn't want to risk my father finding me in such a state. He would have shaken it out of me." Or worse, but she doesn't want to say that. The idea of doing so brings bile up her throat. "I fought it by forcing myself to be strong. I turned myself into an emotionless robot, dissociated from my feelings, because all that mattered was keeping everyone else alive. Not me. What I became, is probably why my brothers started to hate me, but I was doing it for them. No-one else."
Patrick buries his anger at hearing this. No child deserves the past she had, especially her. It pains him knowing that there is nothing he can do to make that period of her life any better. She was essentially alone, but with people dependent on her. It's truly awful. "Your brothers don't hate you." He says before hooking an arm around her shoulders so he can pull her to him. She lets him, and instantly feels a lot better for it. "They love you."
"Maybe they do now, but they didn't back then." She then sighs. "Why is this happening? Why do I suddenly feel so out of control?"
"I'm no doctor but I know that hormone levels can affect anxiety and therefore symptoms of panic." When he says this, things make sense even if he couldn't say for sure. It is reassuring though. "You're pregnant, your hormone levels will be all out of whack. But now we know that this can potentially happen, we can be more prepared for it to happen again."
Teresa nods and bites down on her trembling bottom lip, to try and stop emotion getting the better of her. "You're so… calm."
"One of us has to be." He attempts to joke, and she does crack a smile, even if he can't see it when she is lying against his chest. "Seriously though, you spent years being the level-headed one. Now, it is my turn."
xxx
When she decided to take the day off to go baby shopping, there was some teasing in the bullpen, but it all came from a good place. Lisbon has accrued a lot of owed time off due to antisocial working hours on cases, and although she plans to save most of it for the later stages of her pregnancy as she expects exhaustion to be her primary state, it was also a good idea of Jane's to use some of it to gradually prepare them to welcome a child into the world. Going shopping in the week will be a lot quieter than at the weekend, he reasoned, and he tends to be right about these things. "Now this place is like Santa's grotto in terms of baby stuff. We could get lost in here." He announces with a sort of wonder in his tone, as he glances around the large store with wide eyes and a child-like excitement.
The first thing Lisbon picks up off a rack is a cream-coloured onesie which feels so soft and small in her hands. She holds it up near her cheek and strokes the fabric against her skin, before gently placing it and four others into the previously empty basket being held by her husband.
That's the start of it.
There are sleepers, body suits, bibs, tiny pairs of socks, mittens, pants, burp cloths, and hats in every colour imaginable. Teresa doesn't necessarily believe in the notion that baby boys wear blue and baby girls wear pink, but whilst they don't yet know the sex of their child she sticks with non-gender-conforming colours like yellows, off-whites, and a few rainbow pyjama sets that make her smile. Her smile widens when she spots the selection of footwear. "Look at these little booties." She coos and holds them up to Patrick.
"They're like yours." He shares her smile.
"They're very impractical." She murmurs but adds them to the basket anyway. "I think we've made a good and expensive start, but we should leave before we spend any more money."
Jane warmly chuckles at this and humorously tests the weight of the basket that is hanging in the crook of his elbow. "I think you may be right. I will go and pay, you wait here." He is being gentlemanly and sparing her of the queueing which she appreciates as fatigue is beginning to take her over. She remembers the days when she used to run on little to no sleep, now if she doesn't get at least seven hours a night she is useless. Plus there are the naps. She never used to be much of a napper before being pregnant.
Teresa yawns as she aimlessly wanders down the next aisle until she is standing in front of a wall of feeding supplies. She hadn't realised there was so many types of bottles before, and it is like they're towering over her head. She was already internally caught up in the breastfed versus bottle fed debate, but it hadn't dawned on her how complicated the latter is. There are two packs of bottles, three packs, four packs, and more, and packs of just the plastic teats. She works out that they range from around six dollars to ten dollars per item, depending on how good they are she guesses. Then there are the sterilisers. Does she even know how to put together a bottle? Is it complicated? "Teresa." He doesn't say her name as a question but states it, as his free hand comes to rest on her bicep.
"That was quick." She masks her insecurities with a quip, but it hasn't worked if the concern shining from his eyes is evidence of anything. "Shall we go-"
"Let's take a second to breathe first." He takes in a deep breath before she has chance to protest, and she follows him in doing so.
For a short period, it is like they're the only people in the large store. They both know this isn't true. They practically tripped over other customers in the nightwear section, and despite Teresa thinking Patrick was quick in paying, he actually queued for five minutes. None of the other people matter though. All he cares about is her. Her and their unborn child. "We've got all the time in the world." He reassures after exhaling. "There's no rush." Her anxiety gradually subsides as she homes in on his words.
xxx
They're going out for dinner tonight. It is something that they promised to make time for, and during the months of them being together they've discovered some fantastic places to eat. This evening they're returning to one of their favourites, a family-run Italian only a fifteen-minute drive from their home, and she bought a new dress specially. It is a deep green, light, fitted dress with a V-neck that displays her mother's cross proudly. It is knotted at the front, accentuating her bosom and bump, and falls down to just above the knee. When she tried it on for the first time, she felt like a million dollars, but now she's seeing the cracks in her appearance.
She can see the dark circles under her eyes that she's not been able to mask with makeup. She can see the varicose veins marking her legs that not even her favourite boots could conceal. She can see how she's lost muscle definition in her arms as well as everywhere else. She looks so different. "Wow." Lisbon hears from the doorway and her attention snaps from her reflection in the tall mirror, to her husband hovering in the doorway with a big grin on his face. "You look incredible." He expects her to smile at his compliment, but she frowns, so he frowns with her. "Do you not think so?"
"I..." She sighs so he steps into the room ready to wrap both his arms around her when the right moment arises. "I feel... not fat. That isn't it. I'm pregnant and getting bigger was a given." Her words are coming out as a ramble, but he is taking in every one of them, like she is speaking gold dust, and that's because they do matter to him. She matters to him. "I feel unfit, and the idea of having to get back to fitness is..." She chokes back a breath, and she isn't sure which is quicker, her hand flying to her chest or Patrick arriving at her side.
He carefully guides her to sit at the end of their double bed with gentle hand on her forearm whilst the other presses to the small of her back. It is a relief when she feels the weight being taken off her tired feet. "I'm sorry." She apologises, sounding quite short of breath. "I know you don't want to talk about... after."
"I want to talk about anything and everything with you." He disagrees, and he dislikes himself for having made her think otherwise. It is true, the topic of what will happen after the baby is born is one that he finds difficult, especially because she does aim to go back to the FBI and into the field, but that doesn't mean he wants silence on the matter. It is something they will have to discuss, many times, but now isn't one of those times. "But let's concentrate on breathing right now." He urges and she nods, taking a deep breath in even before he does. "That's it. Breathe."
It isn't that her panic symptoms are a regular feature of their life together, but the times that they do make themselves known has taught them a great deal of how to deal with them. The best thing to do first off is to just stop. Stop and breathe. Together. It is much easier when she isn't in full-blown panic mode though like that evening a couple of months ago.
When she finds it in herself to smile at him, he sweeps a hand down her back before leaning in to kiss her cheek. He lingers there and she presses into his touch, making them both feel like they can face anything together. "You're beautiful, Teresa. I mean that." He whispers near her ear and this time when he kisses her it is her neck that feels the touch of his lips. "I love every part of you, and that isn't going to change." It is slightly muffled by her skin, but she hears every lovely word.
xxx
It has been a long time since Jane was woken by something that wasn't an alarm. Back during the CBI days, if he ever managed to sleep, he was usually woken by his phone ringing or Lisbon kicking at the side of his couch because they had a case. On the island, he was woken by sunlight streaming in through his window. When his eyes open now there is no sunlight to be seen, and the sounds he is hearing aren't the sea, or wildlife, or chattering locals. It is his wife.
She is weeping and crying out in her sleep, with her fists balled in the sheets. He is straightaway sitting up, letting the covers slip from his chest and pool around his waist. "Teresa, honey." He tries to wake her tentatively despite the worry dragging him beneath the water by his ankle, making a whooshing sound in his ears, because his anxiety, in this moment, isn't important when hers is suffocating her. "Teresa-"
The noise she makes is between a shriek and a sob when she regains consciousness suddenly. She is choking on air, and he is hurriedly helping her to sit up even as she tries to swat him away in her drowsy state. "No, no."
"Teresa, it's me." This seems to get through to her because she stops her attempts at shrugging him off and focusses on her sparse breaths instead. He brings one of her quaking hands to his chest and places it flat over his heart. "Feel that? Feel my heart and my breaths."
"He… he took my baby away." She continues to panic and even in the darkness of the bedroom Patrick can see how her eyes flicker from side to side.
"No one has taken your baby away. He's still here." He moves her hand that he was holding to his chest and sets it on top of her bump, with his hand over hers, keeping it there.
"No no, he took him. Red John he-"
"Red John is dead. I promise you that." He interrupts, maybe because he doesn't want to hear about what the man that took so much away from him, did to his new wife and unborn child in Teresa's nightmares. Even if it wasn't real, it would still hurt. "Come here." She falls against his chest as he embraces her, with her bump sitting between them, protected. "Come on honey, breathe." He encourages and he is relieved when he does start to feel her breaths synchronise with his. "No one is going to hurt you or our son. I promise."
xxx
Jane already had a strong feeling that something was wrong with Lisbon. She's been quiet, and now she is barely touching the meal he prepared of pan-seared salmon on a bed of lentils and diced leeks, carrot, and celery. He cooked it because it is one of her favourites. Salmon definitely isn't one of his. "Teresa?" She looks up from her plate and her fork which is absentmindedly pushing the food around. "What's wrong?" This makes the action freeze, and she puts down the piece of cutlery with a clatter and a sigh.
"What if I'm a bad mother? It isn't like I've had great parental figures in my life." Patrick opens his mouth to reassure her, but she is quickly talking again. "My mom, well, she was a good mom, but she had her flaws." It becomes abruptly apparent to him that even though each of her words in that sentence were single syllabled, she still wheezes a little to get them out.
"Everyone has flaws." He says, hoping she finds this heartening but the apprehensive look in her green eyes just worsens.
"Then my father... I sometimes think I'm more like him than her."
"You're not like him. You are your own person."
"But who says I will be a good mom?" Patrick is beginning to wonder whether these thoughts have been festering for quite some time. If this is the case, then it is vital that she gets them all out so he can do his best to be there for her and comfort her. He has no doubts that she will be a great mother.
"You raised your three brothers-"
"Tommy is a bounty hunter who treats everything like a game. Stan has a huge amount of debt and so many children I sometimes thinks he forgets their names. And Jimmy is a gambling addict with an alcohol problem."
"None of that is on you. You were a child when you raised them. You kept them alive." He says this so passionately, hoping she starts to believe it, but her shoulders continue to slump, and her expression is defeated. "Plus there was your time at CBI. I'm sure Cho, Rigsby, and Grace would all be horrified that you're having these doubts. How about we take a second and br-"
"Breathe. I know, I know." She says with her frustration evident. "It doesn't feel that simple." But she does take a deep breath, and then another, anyway. "What if I'm always like this?"
"How do you mean, Teresa?" He softly asks.
"Small, fragile, anxious..." She reels off and each word hurts him more than the last. "I'm so exhausted, Jane. I know that's mainly because of the pregnancy, but it is from this constant anxiety too."
"Who says they're separate things?" He reiterates what he said after her first panic attack in his presence, but also what her doctor said when they inquired during her following appointment. "And even if they are, we will work through it."
"We will?"
Patrick holds out his hand, inviting Teresa to lace her fingers with his. The sight pacifies her fairly quickly, and her next deep breath feels much smoother than the last. She takes him up on his offer of course and for a second forgets what she was even stressing about. "We will." He rests their hands on the tabletop. "I believe we could work through anything. Our history suggests so anyway." And she smiles because she trusts that he is right.
xxx
She went into labour yesterday. At first the contractions were minor and infrequent, but then they became more prominent, and she could no longer sit through the nature documentary they were watching. She tried walking around their new home that her husband finished remodelling just in the nick of time, then she tried many of the birthing positions they were advised could be comfortable in the string of classes they took. It was midnight when Patrick drove her to the hospital because the contractions increased in regularity and duration. Teresa's waters broke as soon as they stepped into the ER.
It is after five in the morning now and she's been fully dilated and pushing for a couple of hours. She's on a bed kneeling on all fours having decided that this is the least agonising position and reduces any pressure on her back. "You're almost there Teresa." The midwife encourages.
"Hear that honey?" Patrick beams as he mops away some of the sweat from his wife's brow whilst his other hand works at stroking the top of her back between her shoulder blades. "You're almost there. He's almost here."
"I… I can't." Teresa tiredly slurs, with her arms wavering a little as she struggles to hold herself up. "So tired."
"I've got you." He replies and steps to his right just so he can supportively and gently wrap his arms around her body, to help her keep upright. He looks to the midwife, silently asking her if this okay, and she nods with a small smile when the next contraction comes on.
Another medic swiftly joins the midwife at the business end as Teresa yells out at the top of her lungs, the pain being so bad that she thinks she could pass out. She can't see the two pairs of hands working at helping her son out of her, but she can sure as hell feel them even with all the pain relief she's on. "That's the head mommy." The midwife reveals and Jane leans back from Lisbon slightly to catch the first sight of his son, and he's already beginning to feel tears prickle at his eyes.
"Is he okay?" The new mother urgently asks as she feels the brief relief of not contracting.
"He's beautiful, Teresa." Patrick chokes back an emotional sob. "And he's almost here with us." He looks back to the midwife who mouths 'one more' as she carefully handles the infant's head. "Breathe honey. Just one more push."
Teresa tries to focus on her breathing more than the pain. She inhales a large breath through her nose, filling her lungs that previously were struggling to inflate but now determination makes them do so easily. She tries to hold it, however she doesn't for long but that doesn't matter. She smoothly exhales it through her mouth and momentarily she feels like she is ready for anything.
When the last contraction comes, she pushes with all her remaining might and soon the sound of her baby's cries fills the room. She's done it. They have a son. "He's here. He's here." Her husband excitedly chants, and his eyes are moving back and forth between his child being swaddled by the midwife and his wife who is sobbing with relief. He helps her lie down on her back and sweep the hair from her eyes. "You did it." He proclaims with so much love just as the midwife approaches them with their baby wrapped in towels still crying to his little lungs content.
"Yes, she did." The midwife agrees. "Are you ready to meet your son?"
"I'm so ready." Lisbon says through happy tears, all her previous insecurities about being a mother forgotten, and it is amazing to Jane that after her body has gone through such an ordeal, she has enthusiasm left in her. She's incredible, and he's very lucky. Her arms are a little shaky when her son is put into her arms, who immediately quietens down at the contact. Patrick is there to support her hold and has the best view of the mother kissing her child for the first time. "You were right." She emotionally croaks.
"I was right?" He questions in reply, gazing at her curiously.
"He is beautiful." They sniffle together feeling nothing but joy and wholeness. Patrick leans down to kiss his son's forehead in the same spot his wife left one not even a minute before, and then he captures her lips with his, storing this moment away in his memory palace to be able to access it forever.