Hello again! Okay, first of all, massive gratitude to Jaimie255 for inspiring me to write this. Sorry because I know you said humour, and I know you said a girl, but the story just wouldn't stop evolving-it still IS evolving! If I stick to the plan I've got now, it'll be a miracle. But if you hadn't given me that first idea, then this story would never have taken shape, so thank you. ANYWAY, this'll be about ten chapters, give or take, and in no way follows anything that happens on TV because my imagination wouldn't quit. I hope you enjoy it :)

I don't own The Mentalist, but I'm just so excited that Spirited is coming back that I actually don't really mind.

Prologue: Five years ago.

Scream.

Tick, tock. Tick. Tock.

The seconds were stealing his sanity.

Across the other side of the waiting room Cho read an evidently much-loved novel, Rigsby bounced a tiny ball against the side of a cabinet and Van Pelt had fastened her gaze to the flickering television in the corner. Jane, however, hadn't the composure to do anything except clench his fists and will himself to stay in his chair.

Tick, tock.

Scream.

The shrieking slashed into him-as it had many times before-and for a moment he couldn't remember the reason why he wasn't beside her. Every inch of him burnt with desperation, with a hatred for the room he was in and a blind longing for the room in which he wasn't: and yet he couldn't move, because when he closed his eyes he remembered the certainty in her stance as she'd gathered the unit together two days ago and delivered her blunt ultimatum-'if anyone takes one step inside the delivery room, they're fired'. The memory dipped and swayed behind his eyelids, and though Jane cared little for his job, the fact that this was what Lisbon wanted was an altogether different matter and a factor large enough to keep him frozen.

But his resolve was slipping. And as the minutes trailed on, he found himself more and more unwilling to fight for it.

When she screamed again Jane had to physically restrain himself from standing up, his fingers tightly clenched around the arms of the chair, and began to monitor his breathing in an effort to calm himself-one breath, two, three…but the harsh ticking of the clock was faster, and eventually he was inhaling and exhaling all within the space of a second to keep in time, which he doubted was a good thing. And so he turned his attention to the rest of the room, but Van Pelt's worried face only increased his nerves, and the thump-ca-plunk of the ball against the cabinet repeated in his head until it had formed one great mass of loathing aimed at Rigsby. Jane locked his jaw even tighter, and his leg involuntarily began to twitch: before he could notice, though, it dawned on him that the gap between screams was the longest it had been, and all his senses leapt with sudden hope. He sat straighter in his chair and waited, ears strained, for a cry more high-pitched and painless than Lisbon's…

When his hopes vanished for maybe the fifth time that morning, so did the last of his willpower. After all, Lisbon was hormonal and stubborn: how could she possibly know what she wanted?

'Jane, don't.' But Grace's warning only skimmed over him, as he stood abruptly and headed for the hallway; with every step, he felt his nerves tangle together until they were choking him, fit to burst under his skin, and when he reached her room he was shaking. A middle-aged nurse emerged from behind the door, and smiled.

'Perfect timing,' she informed him wearily. 'She's asked for you.' Jane would have found a way into the room no matter what she'd said, but didn't tell her this: instead, he only nodded impatiently and balanced on the longest second of his life whilst room was made for him to pass.

She was propped up on her elbows, legs bent and spread and covered by a thin white blanket for modesty's sake, her face almost distorted with pain, her hair everywhere; around her, two nurses had chosen their places to mumble encouragement with tired faces. And suddenly-without explanation-Jane's nerves untangled themselves in his throat, giving way to an immense wave of calm that allowed him to stop shaking, to breathe. He had, after all, been in this situation before: he knew what to do. Lisbon's vision seemed so blurred by tears or sweat or both that she didn't notice him until he'd crawled onto the bed behind her: softly resting her back against his front, his legs circling her, Jane reached around and tenderly pulled her fringe out of her eyes.

'You're fired, Jane,' she managed to snarl in between ragged breaths.

'You asked me in here,' he defended lightly. 'I've done nothing wrong.'

'No, not for that, for…' her sentence blended smoothly into another scream as the urge to push surged again, and when Jane grasped her right hand she nearly cut his circulation off. Many moments later, when she'd regained control of her breathing, she continued the argument: '…for letting me do this…I don't want to be a Mom anymore, I can't…'

'Bit late for that, don't you think?' Lisbon didn't respond to this, her concentration on the evenness of her breathing, and Jane sensed that now was not the time for banter. The fingers on his left hand threaded through hers so that he now held both her hands; in the same moment, the nurse who had greeted him at the door announced that they were 'one push away', and he felt every nerve in her body instantaneously seize up. From his viewpoint just behind her shoulder, he saw exhausted tears fall down her face and wished desperately that he could shoulder some of her pain, just enough to give her back her strength and make it all end.

'You're almost there, okay?' he murmured into her ear. 'He's nearly here, you do want to be his Mom and he's nearly here.'

'How do you kn…'

'Because you told me, Reese. Every day for the past eight months.' Almost immediately, he felt the change in her at the sound of her nickname-breaths a little more even, pressure on his hands a little less suffocating as she remembered her reasons, and he gave her the time she needed.

A few seconds later, her grip retightened.

And then she started to scream again, but this time it didn't stop, an endless knife of sound that sliced through Jane until there was nothing left of him and yet he held on anyway…riding the pain with her, shuddering as she did, wanting it to be over, all over…then, suddenly, the screaming ended and she collapsed backwards into him, half crying, half gasping for air. Gently, he pressed the side of his head against hers and listening to her heartbeat coursing through her ear, gradually slowing, and he could have sat with her like this forever if a new sound had not reached his ears-the high-pitched cry of innocence that he had been listening for all morning.

Jane had just enough time to lift his head, and suddenly there was a wet, slippery baby boy in Lisbon's arms, blinking up at them with familiar emerald eyes.

And everything else stopped.

Please review! I'd love to know if I'm doing anything wrong, or right for that matter.

Second chapter's half-done, I'm pretty excited about it. Haha.

TAJ :)