Work Text:
After shift change at 6pm, she locked her office to head home for the night. She was a bit worried about what today might look like. She hoped no one caught on to the fact that today was her birthday...her 39th birthday to be exact. There was nothing to celebrate really. Thirty-nine and alone in a new town.
For less than a year, she lived and worked in Washington. While she’d not been there long, she made no real connections with people. She didn’t really want to either. She found she wasn’t ready to open herself up to others again. The pain from the last time was still too fresh, too deep. Eventually, she would have to learn to connect with others, but not yet.
Thankfully, no one caught on. And her demeanor throughout the day, while not totally sour, let on that she didn't really want to be approached. On her way home, she allowed herself to stop for a single slice of cake at the sole diner in town. She questioned whether she should get a little candle to put on her chocolate cake slice, but she opted against a silly little symbol for someone spending her birthday alone.
Of course, she heard from each of the boys like she did every year. When she arrived at home, she found a package from Rigsby and Van Pelt. She called them to thank them for the Bay Area goods they sent her--especially the wine. Some days, she really missed living in Northern California near the life that she’d spent building for well over a decade.
Other days, she was all too aware of what she missed exactly. Indeed, that was the other thing she found when she got home: a package from Sam Barsocky.
To outsiders, it would seem she and Sam really struck up a friendship the few times Jane introduced them. But Sam wouldn’t be caught dead fraternizing with a cop. No, she was doing a favor for an old friend. Lisbon knew what she would find once she opened it.
As always, she ate dinner first. Tonight’s dinner was fresh salmon and greens. At least that was an advantage of living here. After, she read his letter as she enjoyed a glass of wine from one of the bottles Van Pelt shipped to her.
Dearest Lisbon:
I hope this finds you well. If I’ve managed to time this right, this letter should arrive on your birthday. So, there it is: happy birthday!
One of my fondest memories of the CBI were always the moments we spent together just basking in each other’s company, especially birthday parties. Remember the year I gave you a pony? It took a lot to pull that off, but the look on your face--your wide smile--made it worth it.
Of course, she remembered the pony. Amy, she named her. She had to sell her when she left California because the logistics of transporting and boarding her in California were a bit much.
The look on your face made a lot of things worth it. You deserve to smile a lot more than you do. I also remember another birthday where Cho had to carry you home, but I won’t dwell too much on your past poor choices.
That bastard! Yes, she remembered that, too. He challenged her to a drinking game. She could no longer remember the game’s details. She only remembered the aftermath. Of course, she could barely stand by the end of the night. Cho literally carried her out of the bar, placed her in his car, took her home, and carried her inside. She was quite embarrassed the following Monday at work, but in true form, Cho dismissed her apologies. Meanwhile, Jane strolled out of the bar just fine that night. It was the last time she took on Jane in a drinking game. He was such a cheat! Maybe she should give Cho a call sometime.
I’m just doing much of the same, which is really not a lot. I’m almost certain you’re not in Sacramento anymore, but wherever you are, I know you’re busy being one of the good guys. I also hope you’re busy not spending this birthday alone. Though, I have a sneaking suspicion about the truth of the matter. As much as I came to enjoy our moments together, I know you did too. I often reflect on when you told me there were people who cared about me. I didn’t believe it at the time, but somewhere along the way, we really became like a family, didn’t we?
They had. In the end, it was one of the things that made it so heartbreaking. Once she was cleared, she had several job offers in California. But she had to get out. Nothing felt right there anymore. Not without him.
I wish I were there to surprise you with some outlandish gift or another, but it’s not possible now. We both know why. Sometimes, I find myself wishing you were here with me. It’s a rather uncomplicated life here, one that I think you would enjoy.
That gave her pause. Would she want to be with him? She had guesses where he might be. In hopes of maintaining plausible deniability for the next time the FBI grilled her over Jane, she never spent too much time searching his letters for the subtext of where he might be. She just knew it would be somewhere nice and warm.
I hope you can accept this token from me. It’s not much, and believe me, I know you deserve more. It’s funny how what seemed like the darkest of times that ended up being some of our best times. I’m just thinking of you, and I really hope whatever you’re doing now is making you happy. I truly mean that: you deserve to be happy. Don’t let anyone dull your shine.
All the best,
U no hoo
By the end of his letter, her eyes grew wet. Though, that was rather common after reading one of his letters. Even when he had nothing of real import to say, the idea that he still thought of her brought out emotions that she couldn’t quite categorize. She missed her partner and her friend. As much as she wished things played out differently, at least it was all over now. He could finally know peace. His letters reflected that, even if he seemed to miss her as much as she missed him. But maybe that was just her reading into the things that weren’t there.
She also wondered how lonely he must be. Things changed over the ten years they worked together. She wished there was a way she could respond to those letters and also remind him he wasn’t alone either. It would be nice to tell him what she was doing, too.
At the bottom, she noticed a postscript.
P.S. Don’t open your present until after you eat your cake...consider this me singing the song to you ;)
As instructed, she got her cake out and smiled as she ate the first few bites. The cake was rather tasty, but what brought a smile to her face was the memory of the 10 birthdays he sang the song to her--insisting tradition outweighed her embarrassment. Over time, she just came to expect it.
After finishing her cake (and glass of wine), she dug through the tissue paper in the box. At the bottom of the box was a rather large sea shell. She picked the shell up and held it in her hand. Closing her eyes, she tried to conjure an image of him. She saw him at a remote beach in the heavy sunlight. He was probably quite tan from swimming in the ocean and lounging on the beach with curls lighter than ever. He was always into relaxation. When she turned the shell over, she noticed that her name was painted inside of it. She rubbed her fingers across the letters. He personalized a sea shell for her. The gesture of the gift itself was already quite grand, but this made it somehow different. For the first time that day, she truly smiled.
Before bed, she filed that letter away with the rest. It was risky to hold onto his letters, but she kept the box well hidden. It was always nice to refer back to the letters on the hard days--and she’d had plenty of those. Though, that night, she fell asleep with a smile on her face.
The next morning, she smiled as she placed her seashell on her desk at work. Maybe he was right. She deserved to smile sometimes.