Work Text:
Nothing Gold Can Stay – Pt. 2
He had to get out of there. Tomorrow, he may be ashamed of the fact that he struggled to remain close to his colleagues at a time of great difficulty, but the constricting of his throat and tightening of his chest made him step away. He moved away from the funeral party to crouch under a nearby tree, endeavouring to remember how to breathe once again.
Patrick Jane feels like he is surrounded by death. He supposes he is in a way in this moment thanks to the countless headstones in this graveyard, with the sky overcast above him, mirroring the heavy pall that weighs on his heart. The damp, earthy scent of freshly turned soil fills his nostrils as he gazes into the distance, trying not to catch sight of any of the names on the stones. The scene is all too familiar, a ritual he has participated in more times than he cares to remember. But this time, the grief is for someone he hadn't known that well, but Agent Vega had become a regular face in his life. The pang of loss is unmistakable, an echo of past sorrows reverberating through the chambers of his heart.
As he crouches while forcing oxygen into his lungs, Jane can't help but reflect on the curious nature of grief. How it can spring from the depths for someone who had been part of his life for such little time. He realises it isn't just the person but the shared humanity that makes the loss so poignant. The recognition of mortality, the abrupt end to potential stories and unfulfilled dreams. He remembers the smile that had greeted him in the hallways, the conversations they shared that now seem way to short. He also thinks of his wife and his daughter and the many people who were lost on the way to hunting down their killer.
Then he thinks of Lisbon. It could have so easily been her that lost her life in the field, and the thought makes his breathing difficulties return so he’s back to counting in his head as he inhales and then when he exhales, ignoring how his lungs feel like they’re on fire.
This kind of anxiety, is both unfamiliar and familiar to him simultaneously. It first sparked not after the deaths of Angela and Charlotte, he crumbled in a different way then, but when he found himself on The Island off the coast of Venezuela a few years ago. He couldn’t believe it when he was choked by panic with the sounds of the locals going about their day outside his small apartment. It was then he realised that although he was not regretful about what he did that got him there, he wasn’t sure how he was going to function without a certain brunette in his life daily.
Jane curses under his breath. He needs her so much, but he’s also frightened about what the consequences of not having her would be. The world would no longer make sense, and this is at the forefront of his mind. Not the case they just closed, not poor Vega who is now underneath the earth, but Teresa Lisbon who has managed to escape a similar fate on many occasions. One day her luck will surely run out.
When he catches sight of her out of the corner of his eye, trepidation fills him. He knows what he has to do, but he also knows that it will hurt her, and he thought that he would never have to hurt her again. Life feels completely unfair. “How you doing?” She asks quietly, standing too far away for his liking as he has a strong desire to ignore professionalism and tug her into a tight embrace. “Places like this must be hard for you.” He thinks about the graves of his wife and daughter in Alexandria Cemetery, and how he feels ashamed that he hasn’t been to visit since his return to the US, but he can’t think about that for long as Lisbon continues to talk. “Anyway, I don't feel like going this weekend. It just doesn't seem right. Is that okay?”
“Yeah.” He wasn’t exactly expecting them to go on their romantic getaway, but he does have a strong urge to flee this place. Although he isn’t sure whether this place is the funeral, the FBI or Austin in this moment. “I can't do this anymore.”
“What do you mean?” Lisbon asks with a clear nervousness to her tone.
“I can't watch you do this work. I mean, i-it... It could have been you in that coffin. And I don't...” He pauses his explanation to release a deep shuddering breath. “I can't go through that again.”
“Jane.” She manages to state his name with a calmness that she can be proud of when internally she is breaking. “You're the one that walked in that house.”
“Yes, so that you wouldn't.”
“You could have died. How is that different?” It’s becoming increasingly hard for her to remain composed though, and he can spy the stress in her beautiful green eyes.
“Me dying, it's... It doesn't hurt me.”
“You can't keep pulling me from the path of oncoming trains.”
“Yeah? Why not?” He questions stubbornly.
“Because there's always new trains coming every day.”
Throughout the exchange he feels as if he’s on the brink of panic. Back on The Island he would go on a cliff-side walk when the heat wasn’t so stifling, and look out at the calm, blue waters below. The cliff he’s rocking on currently doesn’t overlook such spectacular waters, but grey, choppy waves that smack against the deteriorating rock. He needs to step away from the edge, he needs to run before he falls completely. He knows how murky the depths are that he could plunge to.
Jane takes a deep breath and suddenly stands to his feet, facing her with a surprising level of surety. “I’m leaving.” But still his voice breaks when he announces this, and he watches Lisbon’s heart fragment in real time. “Now, you can come with me, or you can stay here, but... I have to go.”
She’s cried more over the last week since Vega’s death than the entirety of the time since Jane has been back in her life. She feels like she should be all cried out, yet her eyes are becoming wet again. Lisbon wants to be strong; she at least wants to sound as if she is, but the crack in her tone gives her away when she quietly asks, “Where you going?”
He looks apologetic, regretful when he leans towards her to press a gentle kiss to her cheek. This should be reassuring in a way because it shows that he doesn’t really want to do this, but it still causes her great agony. She never thought being on the receiving end of one of his kisses would cause her pain, but it has. “Someplace nice.” And then he’s walking away.
So many images flash in Teresa Lisbon’s mind. The first time they met, the last time they saw each other before he killed Thomas McAllister, their reunion two years later, and Jane’s face when he told her he loved her in the middle of a plane – but also the plastic stick she held in her hands this morning, with the plus symbol jumping out at her. Patrick Jane may be the King of running away, but there’s even more at stake right now. “No.” She states firmly and lunges forward to encase his wrist with her slender hand.
“Teresa…” He murmurs with displeasure, but he does stay rooted to the spot.
“You can’t. You can’t leave me again.” She practically begs and the pleading to her tone has the ability to shatter his heart into a million pieces, but still the need to run itches at his skin. “Please don’t leave me again.” Lisbon sounds so fragile but then Jane watches a sudden determination and sureness wash over her that turns him uneasy. “It wouldn’t just be me who you’re leaving.”
“The team don’t need me.”
“They do but that’s not my point.” She gives herself a second, only one second, to compose herself before the honest confession comes tumbling out of her chapped lips so clearly. “I’m pregnant.” Jane's blue eyes widen in disbelief as he processes the unexpected news, his mouth agape and a pounding to his chest. “Can you leave me now?” She questions almost harshly but it is desperation. He continues to stand frozen, struggling to find words, his mind racing through a whirlwind of emotions but finding it impossible to land on just one. Lisbon’s expression softens as she witnesses this, and she carefully removes her grip on his wrist so she can lace their fingers together instead. “Let’s go and talk. Please.”
“O-okay.” It’s all he feels like he is able to say, but he does give her hand a reassuring squeeze.
They leave the service without saying goodbye to a single soul. Niceties don’t seem important, and it is unlikely that they will be missed that much when other things are on people’s mind. Jane doesn’t know where they’re going initially, but it doesn’t take long for him to work out where Lisbon is driving them and why. Soon they are approaching his Airstream. His safe space.
It was only a few nights before Vega’s death that they were snuggled up in bed together and she asked him outright what he likes so much about the Airstream. He went off on some spiel about its practicality and the perks of having his home and mode of transportation rolled into one. He told a story about one day that he regretted living parked outside the FBI building when an emergency meant being woken by a parade of vehicles leaving the site with their lights flashing and sirens sounding, waking Jane from his slumber. It was that particular incident that led him to park his metal bucket elsewhere.
The more he talked though, the more his partner realised that it isn’t just a trailer to him. It’s where he can go to breathe. It gives him freedom but also stability, two things he was missing for far too long. So now Lisbon isn’t as judgemental by his choice, evident by how she takes him there now.
She parks up and cuts the engine making it very obvious that it was the only noise present to slice through any tension. The rattle of the car keys when she removes them from the ignition then seems piercing loud, but it does pull Jane back to reality. Their doors are opened in unison and the short walk from her vehicle to his Airstream is enough for him to breathe in the fresh air and surrounding scents of overgrown grass, rich oak trees and fragrant Texas Bluebonnets.
It doesn’t take much to unlock his home, it certainly wouldn’t be hard to steal, but Jane wisely doesn’t keep anything of importance here. As soon as they’re inside and the door is shut, he pulls Lisbon into an embrace after being silent during the entirety of the journey here. His arms wrap tightly around her, keeping her close as if he never wants to let her go. She fits under his chin perfectly, like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle, her warmth melding seamlessly with his. As they hold each other, the world around them seems to disappear, leaving just the profound connection and comfort that they both need in this moment.
Eventually they do pry themselves from each other, but Jane leaves his hands on her biceps as he outstretches his arms with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You’re really pregnant?” He checks, like he doesn’t quite trust his ears from earlier.
“You’d think I’d lie about that kind of thing?” She asks in reply but there isn’t a hint of offence in her voice.
“No.” He says sheepishly and does remove his hands from her, but one goes to scratch at the back of his neck. “Not at all, I am just shocked that’s all.”
“I was feeling more tired than usual.” Lisbon begins to explain her symptoms as she wanders towards his bed. “But also other fun stuff like feeling queasy and soreness…” She sort of mimes around her breasts awkwardly as she sits on the edge. “Then I realised that my period was late. I did a test this morning.” Once she finishes catching him up, a horrifying thought hits and a flash of uncertainty crosses her features. “Is this something that you want?”
“Of course it is.” He is quick to reassure and doesn’t hesitate striding to sit beside her before taking her hands in his delicately. “Teresa, I’m so sorry for… for not reacting in the best way.” He cringes at his own lack of awareness earlier, but he also doubts that she will ever hold it against him. “I am elated that we are going to have a child. It’s just a lot to process all things considered. When I was… not here, I found it difficult at times to breathe. I would imagine you being there to calm me down yet today when you were there, I tried to push you away.” He is disappointed in himself, he thought he had grown, but he supposes acknowledging his mistakes and actually apologising would be progress. “I am sorry that I was going to walk away.”
Lisbon smiles at this. There was a time when an apology from Patrick Jane or him showing any kind of regret was a rarity. This development is just another thing for her to fall in love with (not like she needed another reason). “The main thing is that you’re still here. With me.” She says and tugs at his right hand before she places it on her small belly where she knows their baby, who is currently only the size of a sunflower seed, will be. “And this one…”
Jane doesn’t know how far along she is but he roughly worked it out on the drive over, it was one of many of his thought processes. Angela was already two months along when they found out she was pregnant with Charlotte. Things had been hectic in their lives with a house move and uncertainty surrounding their income that Angela’s usually regular cycle slipped both of their minds. They weren’t in the best position to bring a child into the world but they made it work. It was wonderful really, until it wasn’t. “I promise you I can be better. I will be better. I am not losing another woman I love and child thanks to my own stupidity.”
“Don’t talk like that.” Lisbon states sternly. She acknowledges that he will never not beat himself up about what happened to Angela and Charlotte, but him projecting his fears onto her and their child isn’t going to help anyone. “I have faith in you and everything you can be.”
“I am so lucky for your what appears to be everlasting faith. I will repay you for that, I swear.”
“I know… and I also know we have a lot to talk about, but can we just hold each other tonight? We will have time to talk… won’t we?” There is a hint of something in her voice, how it goes slightly higher in pitch that tells him that she isn’t completely sure.
“We will.” He then remove his hands from hers but one sits firmly on the inside of her thigh and the other weaves into her glossy brunette hair. “I am not leaving, not ever. I can promise you that.” How he implores has her believing him and he appears relieved before combing his fingers through her locks and down to his lap. “We need food first.”
“I am not hungry.”
“You might not be but baby sure will be.” He says sweetly with a cheeky grin now settled on his face. “How about some pasta from that Italian you like? That does the cannelloni.”
“With the spinach and ricotta filling?”
“The very one.”
“It’s like a twenty-minute drive.” She replies as if he doesn’t know this but there’s still a hopefulness to her expression.
“I can take your car and you can relax here. Have a shower if you’d like.” He suggests, but her look of hopefulness has been replaced by worry. This is something Jane not only discerns immediately but also works out the source to her anxiety. “I’m not going to leave you. I will just be fetching dinner.”
“I know it’s just…” Teresa sighs, a little annoyed at herself for countering his lovely offer with doubt, even if her concerns are founded. “I’ve seen you leave enough Jane. I can’t do that again. Especially now.”
“I am sorry that I’ve made you so fearful.” He apologies once again but with a dullness to his stunning eyes that usually have the ability to illuminate a room. “I know I’ve got stuff to work through but I am damn sure I’m not leaving you again. If that means quitting the FBI then I’ll quit the FBI, if that means getting... getting help then I’ll get help.” She appears a little sceptical about this, however he is prepared to prove her wrong if it betters what they have together. “But we have the rest of our lives to talk about this.”
“Okay.” She agrees with a slightly fragile smile, but she does become more confident about it. “Pasta sounds nice.”
“Your wish is my command.” He stands up after slapping both his thighs with the palms of his hands to create a satisfying yet amusing sound. He makes sure to lean down to leave an affectionate kiss on top of her head before heading back towards the door. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“That’s lucky.” Jane beams at Lisbon contently. “I will see you in less than an hour”