A/N: Okay, this is supposed to be a one-shot to help me to get back into my other fics. If you have any ideas for any of them, please share.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Mentalist or Ronan by Taylor swift.

Teresa Lisbon walked through the hallways of the hospital as if in a trance.

She filled out paperwork and held the pale, cold hand of her little boy. She ignored the tears falling from Grace, who had been both an aunt and older sister to Ronan. She had helped Teresa when no one else was there. Of course both Rigsby and Cho would have helped, but neither of them knew anything about being pregnant or having a baby.

She had used Grace as a shoulder to cry on when she realized that the father wasn't coming back. The father. She still wouldn't allow herself to think of his name.

She ignored the protests of her old team when she walked towards the parking garage; she wanted to go home. She was surprised she still knew the way- she had barely been there the past few months.

She was on autopilot as she made her way there. Her mind was blank.

She jumped out of the car after pulling her keys out of the ignition. She unlocked her door to the sight of Ronan's things. She took off her shoes and began to pick up. As she held the little plastic toys she was ambushed of memories of her child. Because that's all that was left.

She remembered waking up to his bare feet padding down the hallway, and the bright light of the early morning shining in through the curtains in her bedroom. She would listen carefully to the footsteps of her little boy.

She had forgotten how much she had loved that.

She remembered his laugh. It was light, and beautiful. Just like the rest of him. When she would come home from a rough day, she would tickle him just to hear it. He had always brightened her day. He was her whole life, he was her savior. She was glad she had him, and is she went back in time she would have done the exact same things just to have that time, no matter how little it was.

She was glad that Ronan's father had given him to her before he left. Before she never saw him again.

She would never have either again. Teresa let the toy she was holding, a plastic car, slide out of her hand. She herself slid down the wall. She cradled her head in her hands.

She remembered Ronan playing with all of his cars in the kitchen floor while she cooked dinner. She learned that he liked to watch her chop and slice things. And in turn, she liked to listen to him make sound effects when he rammed his truck into the cabinet, or a muscle car beat the old car in a race.

She remembered his plastic dinosaurs and how he would always play with them while he watched Dino Plane, his favorite television show. He would act out all of the characters' parts. She loved listening and watching it from the other side of the couch.

He reminded her so much of his father. It brought back bittersweet memories.

All of her memories were now.

She gazed into the toy box of the living room and saw Ronan's favorite book.

She remembered his favorite line, the last one. Whenever saying goodbye or goodnight, they both would say, "I love you to the moon and back,"

Memories of that one sentence sent her into another burst of tears.

She remembered how blue his eyes were. Bluer that the ocean and the sky, bluer than a robin egg. She would lie down next to him at night and watch his eyes as he fell asleep.

He was beautiful.

He was just like his father. Their eyes were the same. Their hair color was the same- golden blonde. Even though Ronan's hair wasn't a mess of curls, they looked the same.

Ronan's heart was much more pure than his father's. His heart was gold.

Right when he was born, Teresa knew he was a mentalist. He had come a month early.

Oh how she loved her little boy.

She remembered how they always looked at each other like they had their own secret club. They knew everything about each other. Ronan would always know when she was down, and would always know the right way to cheer her up.

He was all that she needed.

But now he was gone.

She remembered him dancing as he got ready for bed. Twirling around while brushing his teeth and jumping as he changed into his pajamas. Then before the bedtime story they would waltz up and down the hallways together.

She remembered him trying to be quiet while getting himself breakfast, as to not wake her up. The clanking of the cereal bowls and the banging of the refrigerator door was always enough to wake her. He was the sweetest thing she knew.

When she was younger, her brothers had always jumped on her bed to wake her when they needed something. She as thankful that her boy was more thoughtful.

He would have been a good man.

He should have gotten the chance.

She remembered the first time that he had grabbed her hand, only hours after he had been born. Her finger tingled with the feeling. She remembered the warmth of his small palm and how he felt in her arms. He had been so small.

He was her little man, and it had become one of his nicknames over the years.

She knew that he had fought the cancer as hard as he could, just like one of his little army guys. He was the strongest person she knew.

She remembered every night right before he fell asleep she would whisper part of her favorite song in his ear. She would sing to him, "Come on baby with me, we're gonna fly away from here,"

He was the best four years of her life. Everything she did-she did for him. Every choice she made- she made with his best interest in mind.

She wondered if finding his father would have been in his best interests. The little boy should at least have gotten to meet him, and vice versa.

She wondered if things ever could have been different.

If they could have been different.

If they could have been a family.


Lisbon never was good at family.

She cried herself to sleep that night.

And no one should've expected anything different.

As she sat in the front row of the church, she stared absently at the small casket in front of her.

She remembered the drive home from work that day,

She knew she shouldn't have gone, but she needed to get her mind off of things. Ronan was asleep anyways. The hospital would call her if he woke up.

Instead they called to tell her things had taken a turn for the worse.

She remembered the tears clouding her vision, when blind hope flooded her. She hoped she would be able to see her boy's bright blue eyes one more time. She hoped she would be able to her his laugh again, to let him hold her hand for one more moment.

She remembered when the hope left her and she starting screaming at the world. She screamed at it for taking her little boy away from her.

A tear trickled down her face.

"WHY?" She screamed. "Why me? Why my boy?"

He was the only thing that kept her sane, kept her from wasting away after the father was gone for the second time.

She lived to give her child a life.

She turned as hot rivulets streamed down her cheeks. The flowers piled up in the worst way.

No one spoke. There was nothing to say about a beautiful boy who died.

It was the fall.

Halloween was next week. He could've been anything he wanted.

If he was still here.

She remembered the last time she held Ronan's hand and sang to him, "Come on baby with me, we're going to fly away from here,"

But this time she added something extra.

"You were my best four years."

She remembered thinking to him after he was gone, "Come on baby with me, we're going to fly away from here. Out of this curtained room and the hospital grey will just disappear,"

A week later:

Lisbon stood in her son's bedroom.

Over the last couple days she had found herself in his closet, whispering words to him. She talked to her boy. If his father were there, he would think of her as foolish. Because he would never hear her.

A lump formed in her throat.

She stared into the closet.

She hadn't gotten rid of the clothes he had. She saw the ones she bought bigger for next year.

She had kept the hand-me-downs he would never grow into.

And what if she actually thought that by some miracle, her child would come home with her one day, all cured of disease? If she actually thought that he would one day cancer free?

Naive. That's what she was.

She would consider it a miracle if she had gotten to spend one more moment with him.

She started crying, and her words came out all choked up as she sang, "Come on baby with me, we're going to fly away from here. You were my best four years,"

She finished with eight words as she closed the door behind her.

"I love you to the moon and back."

A/N: I really hope you guys like it and that you will review. I worked hard on this.