Taryn. 21. NYC. This blog is dedicated to The Mentalist and my OTP, Jisbon. I also post quite a bit of Klaine/Glee.

Note: This is a secondary blog, so when I like posts or follow you, it will come up as my main account taryndooley



7.01 - “Orange Blossom Ice Cream” Written by Tom S. and Directed by Chris Long.
(Heller not being the writer should not be a surprise; he’s working on Gotham at the moment.)


7.01 - “Orange Blossom Ice Cream” Written by Tom S. and Directed by Chris Long.

(Heller not being the writer should not be a surprise; he’s working on Gotham at the moment.)

At the Queen + Adam Lambert concert!!!! 😁😁😁😁😁😍😍😍

At the Queen + Adam Lambert concert!!!! 😁😁😁😁😁😍😍😍

Summer Challenge | 10 Female Characters [2/10] Teresa Lisbon
“The pocket rocket, dynamite, heavily-armed, cute-as-a-button, Agent Teresa Lisbon…”





















(Source: shagbox)


Jane lifted Annie up into her bed and tucked the covers around her small waist. The smell of lavender and sandalwood was welcomed, and the warmth of her small body next to his made him smile. She was his. He was a father, again. Something he never thought he would ever feel in his lifetime. He never thought that looking at the little girl smack up against him would ever have existed, nor the happiness he felt in his life. But there was love after tragedy. Beauty after loss.

“Daddy,” Annie said, looking up at him with her emerald eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Show me?”

Jane reached over and brushed a single curl of blonde from her forehead and sighed. He had promised her. He wasn’t going to go back on his promise, and he wanted to give Annie the chance to understand his previous life. Not the trickery or the cowardliness. No. He wanted her to know that she had family that was no longer around, but still watched over her every single night as she lay sleeping.

“Okay, baby,” he told her, holding up a finger as if to tell her to wait. “Let me go get it. Stay right here.”

“‘Kay,” the little girl replied happily, watching him get up and walk over to her chest of drawers.

Jane bent down to the very last drawer in the chest and pulled it open, reaching under Annie’s sweaters and retrieved it, closing the drawer and turning back to Annie, who was looking curiously at her father and the item he held so close to himself. She looks so much like Lisbon, he thought to himself. The porcelain skin and freckles plastered over the bridge of her nose; the emerald eyes dancing in the light of her room. She had his hair, though. The golden curls cascading down to her small shoulders. She also had his attitude. When Lisbon told her she couldn’t have an extra cookie, she went behind her back and took it anyway. She was the most precious thing he had besides her mom. He had a family again, and his happiness and his reason for living expanded exponentially.

Walking back over to Annie’s bed, he sat down beside her and let her snuggle in the crook of his arm as he sat the book across her lap. The faded pink material on the cover made him wistful. 

“Daddy, what is this?” Annie asked, tapping her small finger on the faded ribbon closing the book closed. “It’s old.”

“Yes, it is,” he agreed, rubbing the material gently. “It’s an album, Annie. You remember when I told you about your step-sister and stepmother? This is my memories of them.”

“This is Charlotte and her mommy?” Annie asked, not quite able to pronounce Charlotte’s name. 

Jane nodded. “Yes.”

He could still remember finding the album after they died and placing it with Sam and Pete, whom he knew would take care of it. He didn’t want the rest of the stuff in the house. They weren’t there. All the clothes and toys and makeup were just sad reminders of what he didn’t have anymore. But the album, the one Angela and he had put together, was the one thing he needed to keep. He had always been glad he gave it to Sam and Pete for safe-keeping, because the FBI would have kept that, too.

“Can I open it?” Annie asked excitedly.

“Of course you can,” Jane told her, watching as her little hand flipped to the first page.

Annie giggled at the picture of Angela splashing Charlotte with water as a baby in the sink. Jane smiled, too. He remembered taking that photo, Charlotte’s little legs and arms splashing him and the lense of the camera so he had to stop and wipe it off a few times. Angela, beautiful as always, was caught permanently laughing in the photo, something Jane had to choke back tears from. 

“She’s pretty, daddy,” Annie told him, looking up at him and smiling. “And the baby, too.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “They were.”

Annie flipped the page to the next picture, this one was of him teaching Charlotte how to ride her tricycle that Angela had asked him not to buy her. He was frozen there, bending over and pushing on her small back to give her a boost. Jane saw Annie reach out with her little fingers and pat little Charlotte in the picture.

“She has my hair,” Annie beamed. She giggled and put a small fist to her curls and rubbed gently. 

Jane nodded at her and smiled. Yes, she did. Annie reminded him of Charlotte in so many ways that if he had believed in God or reincarnation, he would have sworn Charlotte was reborn into Annie. He, even though he didn’t have a belief in such things, hoped that this would be true. It stopped the pain when he looked at his daughter. He knew Lisbon could see it in his eyes, but like the wonderful woman she was, she never said anything. Teresa always knew when he was in his memories, and she respected that. Hell, she had given him a daughter; a chance to do things over and do them right. And Annie was his priority. When Teresa found out she was pregnant, he had made her take a leave immediately. She had agreed, but it took some coaxing. But he wanted to be near her all the time and be able to watch her. He knew that was quite selfish of him, but he didn’t care.

Jane flipped to the next page. This picture was of Charlotte and Angela at the piano, playing “Row, Row, Row Your Boat”. It was his most cherished memory of them. Sometimes, when he was drifting off to sleep, he could still see them giggling and laughing as Charlotte missed a key and Angela played the entire song using that missed key. It also stuck in his mind because it was the very last time he saw them alive. That night…well, that night was one he would never forget.

“Don’t be sad, daddy,” she said, turning her head to look up into his face. “We can stop.”

He looked at Annie’s concerned face and smiled at her to reassure her. She had wanted to see the album since he and Teresa had told her about the family she never met. Couldn’t meet. Jane had showed it to Lisbon after they had married, and he had wanted to share them with his daughter, too. It was sad. It was extremely painful, but something he thought Teresa and Annie should see. His family from the past being remembered by his new family.

“It’s okay, Annie,” he told her, squeezing her arm. “I won’t be sad. I promise.”

“I talk to them, sometimes,” Annie told him. “Mommy said I could and they would hear me.”

“You talk to them?” he was surprised by this. “When?”

“At night, before sleeping.”

Ah. Lisbon told her it was okay to speak to them. This was news to him. 

“What do you say, baby?” he pried gently. 

“I thanked them for bringing mommy for you,” she told him softly, closing the album and yawning. “And me, too.”

Jane looked at his daughter, whose eyes were closing. Annie couldn’t have known how many times he had thanked them over the years for Teresa, and then for Annie. He had thanked them for the second chance to be someone he could be proud of and they could be proud of. He had spent his entire time with Lisbon thanking them for giving him someone he could trust, and then when he knew it was love he felt for Teresa, he thanked them for giving him the courage to act on it…to help him to move on.

“Me, too, Annie,” he told her, silently slipping out of her bed and watching as she burrowed down under her covers. ‘Me, too.”

“Daddy,” she said quietly. “They visit, sometimes.”


“They come in my room and tuck me in sometimes. Then they go see you and mommy and tuck you in, too.”

“Annie, what do you mean?”

But she was asleep. With one last glance at his sleeping daughters form, he turned off the light and shut her bedroom door just a little.

He would never tell her that sometimes he could feel them, too. Or…at least he liked to think he could. 


This is a birthday present for mariahgem . I can’t draw or sing or even write, but I tried. I know you liked the other story, and thought you’d like this. Happy Birthday, love.