33A/N: I finally got around to re-watching Season 7, and it inspired me to write this one-shot to fill in some blanks from around "Little Yellow House" to the series finale. It's a bit of romantic fluff, but it felt good to be writing again for these characters, so I went with it. I hope you like it.
The Wedding Gift
Lisbon stared at her reflection in the long, narrow mirror on the bathroom door of Jane's Airstream. Cho had been right about the wedding dress—vintage suited her best—and she smoothed down the satin with hands that only trembled a little.
"I'm marrying Patrick Jane," she whispered to the wide green eyes that looked back at her in disbelief. That in itself was wondrous, literally a dream come true and a gift from God.
But then her hands paused to rest lightly on her flat belly, and her vision blurred. Near the sink in the compact bathroom rested the third pregnancy test stick that she'd used in as many days—each one clearly showing a plus sign. That, along with being two months late (she was never late), the tiredness, and the uncharacteristic hysterical crying left her with little doubt: it was more than just the stress of her thrown-together wedding. She was pregnant.
She went back and forth in her mind about whether she should tell Jane today or wait for a doctor's official confirmation. She certainly didn't want to ruin this day if he wasn't happy about this new development, a surprise that might not be a good one for him. Having lost one child, would he be willing to pin his hopes on another? Did he think he—or she—was too old to be a parent? Was finally taking off his wedding band, buying a house, getting remarried, and quitting the FBI enough changes for one man without throwing a new baby in the mix?
Lisbon thought she knew the answer to this. Other men who had lost a child might have lived the rest of their lives avoiding them, but Jane was different (as he was from other men in most other respects). Jane was still drawn to children; adored them, in fact. He could never pass one in the street or on the job without squatting down to talk with them, or hold them, or enthrall them with a magic trick. She had no doubt that he would love their child, but his initial reaction was what worried her. Just as he'd let go of his past at last, a baby could bring it all back for him. And if he'd been so frightened lately of losing her, how might that fear shake him when they brought a child into this scary, unpredictable world?
She sighed, and a wave of tiredness overtook her. She moved from the mirror into the living area of the motor home, telling herself she would only sit down for a moment. Through the open window blinds she could see the pond, and, much to her surprise, her fiancé standing at the water's edge, dressed in his own wedding attire, his wayward curls neatly tamed. Though his back was to her, she could tell by his bearing that he was relaxed, at peace, communing with nature, probably imagining the run-down shack he'd bought transformed into his dream home. God knew no one deserved peace more than Patrick Jane. It gave her a little thrill to think she was partly responsible for that, and perhaps his reaction to her news would be more joyous than she predicted. She said a quick prayer that it would be.
Lisbon reached up to dab gingerly at her eyes, grateful she'd had the foresight to wear waterproof mascara. Her other hand returned to her stomach as she watched her future husband at the pond-the father of her child-and she remembered with a soft smile the night she knew in her heart she had likely conceived…
Two months before
Lisbon had seen Jane drunk a few times, and he'd either come across as silly or pathetic, depending on the current state of the Red John case, or, later, their relationship. A tipsy Jane, however, was a randy Jane, as she'd discovered first hand in the back of the Uber taking them from her nephew's christening party to their Chicago hotel.
"Jane!" she hissed in the darkness of the car. His hands cupped her breasts through her sundress, and his mouth was busy nibbling her left earlobe. She closed her eyes at the sensual heat that shot from her core and radiated languidly out to every limb. He growled softly in her ear and she shivered.
She'd had one beer too many herself, so her objection was only half-hearted, until she happened to open her eyes to meet the leering gaze of their driver in the rearview mirror. She flushed with embarrassment and pushed Jane almost violently back to his own seat.
"Hey!" he cried, his chest rising and falling rapidly with thwarted desire.
She held out a staying hand and glanced meaningfully toward the front seat.
"Down, boy," she muttered.
"Oh, come on, Teresa, Kevin here—"
"It's Brian," corrected the driver.
"My most sincere and humble apologies," Jane said thickly. "Brian has certainly seen it all, haven't you Kevin?"
"Brian," repeated Kevin in amusement, watching Jane in the mirror. "And yes, I have. Hey man, free love and all that. Don't mind me."
Jane scooted purposefully across the seat again. "See, Teresa, he doesn't mind."
Lisbon frowned at both their driver and her boyfriend. "Not really into peep shows, thanks. You can wait till we get to the hotel, Romeo."
Jane sat back in his seat and pouted. "Spoil sport."
After a few more minutes in Chicago traffic, Lisbon felt a seeking hand on her thigh. She slapped it away and Jane chuckled, but he made no further attempts until the driver let them off at their chain hotel just off Michigan Avenue. He made it as far as the elevator, and the moment the door slid closed, he roughly pulled her to him and smothered her with a deep, searing kiss. Her own ardor mounted rapidly, and she kissed him passionately, her hands in his hair, until the elevator stopped on the fifth floor.
They stumbled out of the elevator, tripping and falling in a heap on the carpeted floor. Jane yelped, having taken the brunt of their fall, Lisbon landing hard on top of him, her dress tangled around her legs. He had to move his foot as the closing elevator door bumped it insistently. They struggled like two puppies in a blanket, until Lisbon managed to roll to her back beside him. Staring blearily up at the ceiling, they laughed breathlessly.
"I do believe you're drunk, Agent Lisbon," he said, as if he'd discovered the secret of the universe.
"No one from Chicago gets drunk just on beer. Beer's in our blood."
Jane rolled his eyes and turned his head to her. She turned to look at him, watching as his face grew soft, his green eyes misty. "Maybe we're just drunk on love, then."
"That is probably the cheesiest thing you've ever said," she replied, but her expression belied her words, and she pressed her lips to his. They kissed that way for several minutes, forgetting where they were until the elevator door slid open again, admitting an older couple who gasped in surprise at the wanton sight that greeted them.
Lisbon sat up with a squeak of dismay, her hands pulling up the thin straps of her dress that had fallen to her upper arms, her face flushed with passion and mortification. Jane's vest and shirt were unbuttoned and hung open to his waist.
"Oh my God. Jane, get up! I'm sorry, folks." She struggled to her feet, grabbing for Jane's hands to help him up. "This is so embarrassing."
The seniors smiled knowingly. "Don't apologize," said the woman as they neatly stepped around them. She looked lovingly up at her husband. "We've been right where you are, haven't we, Roger?"
"If I recall, that time in Vegas we never even made it out of the elevator."
The pair chuckled as they moved past them down the hall toward their room, the woman clinging now to her husband's arm, her head resting on his shoulder.
"That's sweet," commented Jane with a grin. "That could be us someday."
Lisbon socked him in the arm. Hard.
"What was that for?" he said, rubbing his injury.
"You're bound and determined to humiliate me, aren't you?"
"It takes two to tango, as well as to roll around the floor in front of an elevator."
"Well let's go to our room before we get arrested." She picked her purse up off the floor and dug in it for the key card as she walked in a slight zigzag down the hall.
Jane grinned and tagged along after her, stopping behind her at room 511. It took her three tries to get the card and the door to cooperate, especially since Jane was pressing his body into her back, the fullness of his desire hard against her bottom.
Once inside, any remaining restraint dissolved, and Jane pulled her sundress over her head until she stood before him in just her silky black panties.
"You should wear dresses more often," he told her, impressed with how quickly he'd gotten her naked.
They hadn't bothered with turning on the lights; the glow of the city spilling in from the open curtains more than enough to see by. Soon they were both blissfully nude on the king-sized bed, hands and mouths exploring with a desperation borne of alcohol and the realization that there were no walls between them anymore, no doubts of the other's feelings to hold either of them back. He'd had to have known that she'd loved him for years, but hearing her say the words at last had freed them both, and they made love in the truest, deepest sense of the word.
"I love you," she whispered later, her head on his damp chest.
"I love you too," was his heartfelt reply, his lips at her temple.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Lisbon awoke before he did the next morning, and after using the bathroom, she stared with bloodshot eyes at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. They had both passed out after their lovemaking, and she'd neglected removing her makeup and brushing her teeth. Her mouth tasted like cotton, and her head was aching dully. She took a long drink of water, feeling slightly tipsy again as the liquid hit her system, so she reached for her zippered toiletry bag on the sink for a bottle of aspirin. It was then that she noticed the pink box that housed her diaphragm. Hands trembling with dread, she opened the lid.
She had forgotten to insert it last night.
"Dammit," she muttered.
She'd never liked the side effects of hormone based birth control, so when she'd actually taken the time for a sexual relationship, she'd always depended on her trusty diaphragm, insisting that her partner wear a condom as well. A glance at the trash in the bathroom confirmed her fear that Jane had also forgotten his share of the birth control responsibility, and a quick peak around the bed yielded no telltale foil wrapper.
"Dammit," she said again.
"Hmmm?" said a sleepy Jane, opening his eyes to see her hovering on his side of the bed. "What's up?"
"Nothing," she replied, reaching down to brush a curl from his forehead. "Go back to sleep."
He grumbled inarticulately and turned onto his stomach, while she returned to the bathroom. She washed her face and took two aspirin, telling herself that the chances of pregnancy were pretty low, given the time in her cycle. Besides, what was done was done, and they would cross that bridge if they came to it.
But as she crawled back into bed and snuggled up to the man she loved, her mind began to wander, and as she drifted back to sleep, the vision of Jane holding a blue-wrapped bundle followed her into her dreams.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Now, two months later, as she rose from her seat on the Airstream, Lisbon took a deep breath and smiled to herself. This baby had been conceived in love, and his parents would love him and each other for the rest of their lives. As she'd gotten closer to forty, she'd all but resigned herself to the idea that she would never be a mother, that she'd chosen her career over a family, and she was okay with that.
Almost overnight, everything had changed; she could hardly believe how much. She was about to become one of those lucky women who had it all—an adoring husband, a beautiful baby, and an honorable job she loved. Lisbon found she was okay with that too. More than okay.
She reached up to pull down her antique net veil, then opened the trailer door. The noise alerted Jane to her grand entrance and he turned from the pond to take in his bride. The way he looked at her made Lisbon's heart swell with love and gratitude, and she knew in that moment she would tell him about the baby today. Besides, she thought smugly, as she met him in the field across from their future home, not even Patrick Jane could top this wedding gift. It definitely beat emeralds, a pony, an old jalopy, and even a huge diamond engagement ring by a mile—maybe two.
A/N: Thanks for reading!
