Hi. ~Looks around carefully~ Long time no read? Well, I must say that it has been rather difficult to get back into writing this story. But I won't complain as it's my own fault. Well, that in writer's block. I would like to thank those who read, reviewed, favourited, and subscribed to this story - especially a year ago. And I also hope that people will remain willing to continue reading this story, as I do not plan for it to go on much longer. I also want to thank those who have been repeatedly inquiring about this story. Believe me, you guys were a big help with getting this chapter written. Enjoy this update, please!

sbrt - Thank you! I'm glad that you liked where it's heading. : )

Disclaimer: No, I don't own The Mentalist. Bruno Heller does.

Once Lost, Now Found

Chapter Eight

Patrick Jane sat with his back against the solid trunk of a tree, knees bent up as he kept the book against them. A paper was being pressed down as he held the charcoal to it. He was drawing himself with Lisbon, their son, Junior, in between and in front of them. Only as he drew the young boy did he realize that the alarmingly exact appearance that he had shared with the child when he was the same age.

Poking his tongue out to rewet his lips, he smeared his thumb over the paper to blend the shadows on Lisbon's cheeks. Leaning down, he blew and watched as the charcoal remnants slid off of the page and onto the grass below.

Nearby, a throat was cleared.

Jane looked up from his project, his eyes landing on a man clad in a pristine suit. The man, dark-haired and tall, held a slightly haughty way about him and continued to walk towards him as if he owned the place. Ah, yes, this was Walter Mashburn.

"You must be Patrick Jane," Walter said as he swaggered up to stand before him. "The Patrick Jane."

Jane drew his lips into a thin line and gripped the charcoal tighter in his hand. "And you must be Walter."

Mashburn only smiled. "Yes, Teresa's fiancé. I'm quite honoured to finally meet you, Mister Jane."

Holding out his hand for Jane to take, Mashburn gave him a sly smirk. Gladly returning the gesture, Jane placed his charcoal-covered hand in the man's and gave it a firm shake as he stood, dropping the book with the drawing into the grass. Noting that Mashburn was a good few centimetres taller than him, Jane made sure not to really anger the man.

"Likewise," Jane replied.

He pulled his hand away form Mashburn's, quite happy to see the man look down and grimace at his dirty hands. Smiling at the other's discomfort, Jane wiped his hands on his trousers before clasping them together behind his back. Rolling back and forth on his heels, he waited for Mashburn to continue the conversation.

"How long do you plan on staying in Sacramento, Mister Jane?"

Tossing his head back and forth, Jane pretended to contemplate his answer. "Oh, I do not really know. I find that I rather like it here."

Mashburn's jaw clenched before he emitted a bitter laugh. "You see, Mister Jane, I couldn't help but be curious as to why you would rather California over New York."

Jane tossed his head to the side once more. "I guess it must be the people, then."

A vein pulsed in Mashburn's temple, his jaw clenched again. "Teresa Lisbon is mine, Mister Jane. I advise you to stay away from her."

"That's a bit old-fashioned, is it not?" Jane asked, taking a few steps to the side in case he would have to make a run for it. It would not do if his back were practically against a tree. "Women ought to have a say in who they marry these days. It is the twentieth century, after all."

Mashburn took a step closer to him. "She chose me. She accepted my proposal. I can give her anything and everything she could ever want. Why would she choose you?"

Instead of answering, Jane looked up at Mashburn darkly. The other man smirked insolently at him and stalked over towards where the drawing lay in the grass. Mashburn craned his neck, examined the drawing, and looked back up at Jane. His smirk never left his face as he started to walk away, his hand reaching into the inner pocket of his coat to pull out a white handkerchief.

Setting the plate back into the rack, Lisbon folded the towel neatly and set it on the countertop. She had been warned several times not to over-exert herself, but she hardly counted cleaning up after breakfast to be hard work. She was not as fragile as everyone made her out to be.

"Mummy! Mister Patrick is back!"

Smiling, she started to move out of the kitchen and towards the front of the house. Looking out the window, she spotted Junior standing outside – covered in mud again – and pointing at the speck that she assumed to be Jane. Her heart fluttering inside her chest, she moved to step out of the house and towards her lover.

Upon stepping through the door, Junior ran up to her and pulled her hand into his little one. Swinging her arm a little and looking down at her son, he beamed back at her brightly. It then occurred to her that the child did not know who Jane was to him. Well, Junior thought that Jane was nothing more than the man that shared his name who came to California to paint.

"Mummy, is Mister Jane going to live with us forever?"

Her smile faltered a little. "I hope so," she said. "I really do hope so."

The little boy nodded his head. "Me too!"

Turning her gaze back onto the direction of the little speck, she noted that it was coming closer and closer. No longer a speck, she could easily make out Jane walking down the narrow pathway towards the house. Lisbon brushed her hand against Junior's back and smiled.

"Mummy?" he asked, looking up at her. "D'you think that Daddy would have wanted Mister Jane to be my new daddy? I like him."

Lisbon stiffened and looked down at her son. "Tommy Doyle is named because of his daddy. I am too, right Mummy?"

She patted Junior's back and moved her hand up to rustle through his unruly dark hair. "Junior…" she started, only to be interrupted by Jane.

"Hello, Junior." Jane smiled and moved forward, patting the little boy on the head similarly like his mother previously did. "Good day, I hope?"

Junior's eyes sparkled as he looked up at his father (even though he did not know of this yet) and smiled. "Yes, Mister Jane!"

His smile growing larger, Jane knelt down in front of the child. "Would you like to hear the story of how I met your mother?" Junior nodded eagerly. "Well, that settles it! Why do you not go inside and wash up first."

Standing back up, he ushered Junior back towards the door. The little boy took one last glance at the taller blond man before he went into the house. Smiling a bit after the boy, Jane turned back to Lisbon's shorter being.

"He doesn't know, Patrick," she spoke softly.

Jane's lips quirked in a small smile, but his eyes remained serious. Carefully, he leaned forward and reached up with his hand to clutch onto her chin. Lisbon looked at him in the eye, her intense gaze never faltering from his.

"We must tell him soon. Junior's a clever boy, he will discover the truth sooner rather than later."

Lisbon quirked her eyebrow up, thinking he was mostly talking for the sake of it. "Pray tell me what makes you so sure about that?" she scoffed.

Smirking, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on her mouth. "He is my son, Teresa."

"And?"

"He will discover the truth."

This time he kissed her cheek, before pulling away from her. Giving her one last smile, Jane continued on towards the house. Following him with her eyes, Lisbon sighed as she watched him enter and search for their boy. Turning around again, she looked out and took in a deep breath.

As she made her way back to the door and began to reach out for the knob, the barrier was opened before her. Jane stood there, his eyes wide and frantic. Instantly her heart began to race inside her chest, knowing that there would only be one reason why he would look at her like this.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Junior's gone." His chest too was heaving.

"What?"

She pushed through the door into the house until she reached the kitchen. There was a glass of milk on the table, most likely Junior's chosen drink before he washed up, and the back door slightly ajar. At the very sight, her heart sank into her chest.

"He overheard us."

Lisbon turned her gaze back onto Jane's, this time her eyebrow was quirked questioningly. She watched as Jane's eyes drifted towards the window, the one that was not far from where they had been talking. It was open, if the drapes fluttering as the wind passed through was any indication.

Swallowing the lump that was rapidly forming in her throat, Lisbon started towards the back door. She moved the door open and went through it. As she was about to close it, Jane grabbed the wood. Looking into his eyes was enough confirmation for her to know that he too was going to come help her search for their son. With a slight nod, she continued out with him following after her.

Within a few minutes of their search, thunder storm clouds started to swarm in overhead. Lisbon glanced up, her heart constricting with the upsetting knowledge that Junior was terrified of thunder.

"He will be afraid," she whispered.

Jane came up beside her, took her hand in his, and squeezed it. "We ought to go our separate ways to find him." She nodded. "You go east and I will go west. We will find him, Teresa."

Nodding, she started to pull away from him when his grip tightened once more and brought her flush against him. She was about to protest, to tell him that they had to look for Junior when he pressed a loving kiss to her lips. The action calmed her down a sense, and she pulled away to begin her search eastward. She looked over her shoulder one more time to see Jane turning to go west.

With a small smile, she tucked a stray piece of hair that began to fall from her bun behind her ear. And with a newfound bubble of confidence, she resumed the search for her son.

I'll be honest here, I don't have the actual draft that I had when I initially started this story. Also, all previous drafts of this chapter (there were quite a few) have been either lost or destroyed. But that's no longer important, really, as here's finally the eighth chapter. Hope everyone enjoyed!