Author's Note: So this popped into my head and I had to write it, despite my worry I might not be able to maintain the quality of the first one. I'm leaving this marked complete, but if inspiration strikes I might add some more letters at different points in their life. We'll see. And I must not forget to thank all of you who reviewed the first chapter of this, because you brought me so much joy!

If the Spanish in this is terrible, it's Jane's fault, not because my high school classes were a very long time ago! ;)

To my fellow Americans, I hope you have a fun and safe Fourth!

Chapter 2: Family Vacation

The sky had clouded over while Jane focused on perfecting the turrets of his sand castle, but it didn't smell like rain—and he'd become an expert on the weather patterns during his previous stay on the island. He sat back and took in his work, a little surprised Clarissa hadn't demolished anything while he concentrated. She was a rambunctious 13 month old, always in motion and usually talking, and silence was usually a bad sign.

Rising to his knees, Jane looked around, smiling as he spotted his little princess curled up in the courtyard of the sprawling sand castle, her dark curls sprinkled with sand and her thumb firmly in her rosebud mouth. It was nap time, he realized.

Jane turned to beckon Teresa over, only to find her lying on her side beneath the big umbrella, sound asleep just like their daughter. Definitely nap time, he thought, feeling the grin stretch his cheeks as his gaze lingered on her rounded belly holding his twin sons. They'd discovered she was pregnant shortly after they'd planned this trip, but the fact that there were two babies on the way had taken them by surprise only a day before they left Austin.

Three children under the age of two—he was going to have his hands full. The FBI was just going to have to get along without him; the "as needed" consulting he'd been doing would have to stop when Teresa's maternity leave ended. Quite possibly even sooner. Before the twins arrived, Jane wanted to do some minor renovations to make a fourth bedroom out of his home office. He wasn't going to have time to do any kind of work but childcare for the next several years, and from what he'd read on the plane, twins didn't always do well sharing a room, at least as babies. It would depend on their personalities and sleep schedules. They didn't even know yet whether these twins were identical or fraternal, though Teresa's age and the lack of twins in their families argued for fraternal.

They'd need a lot more baby gear, too, since Clarissa hadn't outgrown most of hers yet. A bigger car to hold three car seats, too.

He had a lot to do, and he knew from experience that Teresa had limited patience for shopping, especially while pregnant. The twins explained why this pregnancy was rougher than her first, and he anticipated she wouldn't be able to work until she went into labor this time. He might even find himself trying to enforce bed rest, though he very much hoped not.

Very carefully, Jane leaned over into the sand castle and picked up Clarissa. She made a cranky little cry but quieted immediately as he settled her against his shoulder, never quite waking. He took a moment to just hold her, closing his eyes and savoring the way she smelled of sand, salt, and sunscreen.

Then he carried her over to the big blanket spread under their beach umbrella, brushing as much sand off her as he could without waking her before laying her down facing her mother. Taking Teresa's hand, he kissed it before resting it on Clarissa, then smiled as Teresa drew her daughter close even in sleep.

She was an incredible mother, he thought. He was humbled by how much joy she took in playing with Clarissa and how happy she'd been when her second pregnancy was confirmed. Even the news that she was carrying two lives inside her hadn't fazed her. She was thrilled to have boys to raise, which she was confident she knew how to do. The girly stuff Clarissa was sometimes interested in was a foreign world to her, and she tended to roll her eyes when Jane brought home hair ribbons and sparkly things. Her face when he'd put Clarissa in a poofy crinoline for her first Christmas dress had been priceless.

Jane didn't care. He'd happily be the fashion and etiquette expert in the family and leave it to his wife to handle sports and how to throw a punch. Though he was secretly looking forward to playing a little catch with his boys when they were old enough. He'd never been a father to a boy, and he was sure there were many discoveries in store, especially since these would probably be Lisbon boys. That was only fair since Clarissa was giving every indication she'd gotten more than her fair share of Jane genes. The terrible twos were going to be a wild ride.

He was determined he'd treat his sons far better than his father had treated him. And he knew Teresa shared his goal of seeing that their children were raised in an intact, reasonably functional family. A shadow had crossed her face when he'd remarked she was going to have to teach Clarissa to be a big sister now. He wondered if their new family structure was a little too close to the Lisbon family's for comfort. He needed to reassure her that no matter what happened, as long as he was alive their children would be safe, loved, and well treated.

Still kneeling in the sand, Jane tucked a strand of her long dark hair behind her ear, then bent to kiss her cheek. She smiled in her sleep, and he moved to kiss Clarissa, then shifted to press two kisses to Teresa's belly. His eyes watered a little as he sat back and looked at his cherished girls and the graceful curved belly that sheltered his boys. His family. His amazing, expanding, undeserved family.

Suddenly seized with the desire to tell his wife some of what was in his full to bursting heart, he dug in their tote bag and pulled out the paper and pen he'd tucked inside.

My dearest Teresa,

As I write this, you are asleep beside me, holding all our children. I am moved beyond words that my life contains this moment. I thought I could never be more grateful than when you made me a husband and father again, restoring those parts of my identity that were stolen from me, but now I realize I was wrong. You are giving me new roles, new challenges that I never realized I craved. I can now look forward to teaching our sons to shave, to open doors, to charm girls. I have no doubt you will be the one teaching them to drive and to throw a fastball, and that I will enjoy encouraging and applauding from a safe distance. But never fear; another thing I won't teach them is how to override their mother's good sense with strategic persuasion.

I can't wait to hold them both in my arms and memorize their faces. I keep picturing our next family portrait, the five of us together, two proud parents and three happy children. I'm not sure if you can understand what that image means to the lonely, unloved little boy who lurks in my memories.

But I understand that having been part of a picture like that once before, you have some worries about history repeating itself. So I make you this promise in writing: nothing will ever hold a higher priority for me than our family. If fate is cruel enough to separate us, our children will still be able to depend on me for love, protection, and guidance.

You don't need to worry that your job is a threat to their childhoods or their lives. We long ago settled the issue of how much your job means to you, and I know that hasn't changed. I also know that you are careful. But we both know sometimes no amount of caution, preparation, or experience can prevent tragedy. If that happens, I promise I won't compound it by allowing myself to self-destruct. Even if I am no longer a husband, I will still be the father we both want me to be, until my last breath.

I don't need to ask a promise in return, because I know how fiercely protective you are. If something happened to me, I know you'd still be the same strong, loving mother you are today. I know you'd raise our children to be good hearted, independent adults with or without me. That is a great gift.

But my dearest hope is that we grow old together, sharing and savoring the experiences of raising our children in every stage from infancy to teenager to college student, then making the best of our empty nest. I hope I will dance with you at their weddings and marvel with you over our newborn grandbabies. And at the end, I hope to hold your hand in mine and thank you for this life you made possible. And I hope you will feel that all the bad things we went through were just the blink of an eye compared to all the good times we enjoyed.

And if by chance you are reading this on a bad day, please know how much I love you, more every day, every hour, every minute. Every inch, too. I'm not sure you believed me when I told you how much I adored you in those cute maternity suits and dresses, but I meant every word. This time there will be even more of you to love, and I can't wait.

You have made me so happy, Teresa. More than I could ever express in words. For that, and a thousand other reasons, I love you. Or as they say here, te amo.

U No Hoo

Jane folded the letter, put it in an envelope, and tucked it in his pants pocket, grinning a little as he reflected pockets were one big advantage over a sarong. He was still tempted to wear one, though, if only to see his wife's face.

Then he gathered up all their beach toys and packed them neatly, ensuring everything was ready before leaning over to whisper in Teresa's ear. "Wakey wakey."

She groaned. "Go away, Jane."

"Lightning bug needs a bath before dinner, and it's time for your afternoon snack," he replied. "Come on. I'll help you up."

Swatting him away, she pushed herself into a sitting position as he picked up Clarissa and their bags. "Can you get the umbrella?" he asked.

"Sure." She yawned, got to her feet, and expertly folded the umbrella. Then she smiled as she noticed the sand castle. "I see you prevailed over Clarzilla in the end."

"My superior ability to stay awake won the day," he replied, wishing he had an arm free to offer her as they walked back toward the hotel. "What would you three like for dinner?"

She frowned. "I wish you wouldn't say it like that. It sounds like you think I have multiple personality disorder or something."

Jane chuckled. "No, you are always my Lisbon. And I love every one of your personalities: Grumpy Lisbon, Barely Awake Lisbon, Happy Lisbon, Smug Lisbon, even Infuriated Lisbon."

"Hungry Lisbon," she reminded him.

"Her too. I know a great place that makes seafood tacos to die for."

She smiled. "Why am I not surprised?"

mmm

They went back to their hotel room, where Franklin had delivered Teresa's afternoon snack plate of fresh fruit, churros, and chocolate. Jane stole a piece of melon as he carried a drowsy Clarissa to the bathroom, and eventually they were all clean, dressed, and fed, ready to explore the town before dinner.

Teresa stopped to look at a selection of colorful scarves, doubtless thinking of gifts for their friends and family, and Clarissa quickly grew bored and grabby. "I'll be just over there," Jane told Teresa, pointing across the square to the post office. "I have to say hi to some old friends."

"Be right there," she replied, giving him a quick smile.

Jane hurried over to the post office, Clarissa content to be in his arms while diverted by all the new sights and sounds. He smiled as he saw the same lady at the post office, with the same friend perched on her chair beside the counter. "Hola, señoras," he greeted them. "Como estan?"

"Señor Jane!" they exclaimed, with evident pleasure. But their attention was quickly drawn to Clarissa. "Que linda," they murmured to each other.

"Mi hija, Clarissa," Jane introduced, setting her on the counter and pulling the letter from his pocket. "Cuanto cuestan los estampillas hoy?"

"Hoy?" The postmistress wore the hint of a smile. "Setenta y cinco centavos."

"Listo," Jane smiled, handing her the letter. At least this one would go directly to their home, not left for Teresa by a mysterious unseen visitor.

He'd completed his transaction in the nick of time, because Teresa joined them a moment later. "Mi esposa Teresa," he said proudly.

The women congratulated him, and he was pleased they were able to see how far he'd come from the lonely man who used to ask if anyone was looking for him. Then he told Teresa, "This is where I mailed all your letters."

She took his arm, leaning against his shoulder. "You were a regular, huh?"

"Yes. And yet I never solved the mystery of why the stamp price was never the same twice in a row."

"Guess it's a good thing you don't have to send any more, hm?" she replied.

Jane stifled a grin. "Say hello, dear, and let's go. You wanted to see my little flat, didn't you?"

"Fat!" Clarissa echoed, liking the percussive consonant and open mouth vowel.

"Buenos dias, señoras," Teresa said politely, then reached for Clarissa. Jane intercepted her, scooping Clarissa up first, and Teresa rolled her eyes but didn't argue as she followed him outside. Jane lifted Clarissa up onto his shoulders, making her squeal with delight.

They walked through the town, taking their time, until Jane found his old street. Looking up, he pointed to the little wooden porch. "There."

Teresa said, "That looks...cozy."

"Smaller than my attic at CBI," he agreed.

"So that's why you never felt cramped in the Airstream," she remarked. "You were used to tight quarters."

"Never needed much room when it was just me," he said. "It was a nice enough little hideaway for a lonely exile. Too small for a family though."

Teresa slid an arm around his waist. "I'm glad to know you don't miss your carefree bachelor days."

"Not even a little," he assured her, leaning down for a kiss. "And they were never carefree. I always cared about you. I missed you, terribly, every day."

"So did I," she admitted. "Thank you for coming back."

"No choice, really," he said, reaching up to stop Clarissa from tugging painfully on his hair. "It was either that or turn into Roger."

"Who's Roger?"

"I'll introduce you tomorrow when we stop by my usual breakfast place. Don't expect a lot of conversation though."

She shook her head at him with a little smile. "Still a man of mystery, hm?"

"I try, my dear. I try."

mmm

They had been home nearly a week when the envelope arrived in the mailbox. Jane set it aside with a few other pieces of mail his wife might be interested in, tossing the junk mail into the recycling bin. Teresa handled the bills, but she did it electronically, so the mail wasn't a critical part of the household management.

He was already feeding Clarissa, a messy and lengthy event these days, when Teresa got home. She bent to give him a kiss, then kissed her daughter's outstretched hands, covered in spaghetti sauce. "Hi, messy girl."

"Mama! Sketti!"

"Yours is in the oven, warming," Jane said. "How was your day, my dear?"

"Okay," she said. "Wylie and Cho were having a contest to see who could accomplish the most while speaking the fewest words. Wylie broke when Agent Donovan came over to ask him what kind of computer she should get for her little brother. I suspect Cho may have set him up."

Jane grinned. "How's Pomfret working out?"

"So far, so good." She wandered over to the pile of mail, pausing when she saw the letter. Then she gave him a delighted smile. "You never cease to amaze me."

"Be amazed when I convince our lightning bug to drink from her sippy cup rather than use it as a projectile," Jane chuckled.

To his surprise and disappointment, she left the letter on the pile and went to their room to change.

They went about their normal weeknight routine, with Teresa bathing Clarissa and putting her to bed. Jane tidied up downstairs, then went up when he heard Teresa stop reading so he could participate in the tuck in. For a change, Clarissa was yawning and half asleep as he whispered, "You are safe, you are loved, and you are wise."

They watched her sleep for a few minutes. Then Teresa kissed his cheek and whispered, "I'm going downstairs to read my letter."

Jane decided to occupy himself upstairs and let her read in peace, so he went into his home office and began packing up his books. When he judged she'd had enough time, he went down to find her on the couch, sore feet propped on a small pile of throw pillows and a tearful smile on her face. "Thank you," she said, folding the letter and setting it in her rapidly disappearing lap.

Jane removed the pillows and sat in their place, setting Teresa's feet in his lap and beginning to massage them. "You're welcome."

"How did you know I was worrying about repeating my family history?"

"I thought you were going to stop asking me questions like that," he grinned. Then he shrugged. "It wasn't hard to figure out."

"You're really going to make us do a family photo shoot every year, aren't you?"

"I regard that as a reasonable compromise, yes. If I had my way, we'd do them every other month or so."

"I'm...I'm really glad you're excited about the boys," she said softly. Then she grinned. "And that you don't plan to teach them to drive."

"I fear that will require far more physical courage than I possess," he replied.

She moaned softly as he manipulated her feet, relaxing back into the pillows she'd piled behind her. "You're such a good daddy," she said. "I love watching you with Clarissa. You're so patient and loving. I've never worried that would change, Patrick. No matter what. I know you'll always be a good dad. You might...go down another revenge rabbit hole, but you'd never be a drunk. You'd never beat your kids. You'd never leave them to fend for themselves. I know that. I always have. It's...it's one of the reasons I wanted a family with you."

He was touched. "I just thought it might put your mind at ease to have me say it. Or write it, as the case may be."

"I love that you did that," she admitted. "I...I do worry about the kids growing up without me, yes. I hate the thought. But...but I also hate the thought of...of you burying another wife."

A sharp, stabbing pain almost made his heart stop. He swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. "I hate it too."

"Which is why," she said, "I've applied for a new job. The cybercrime unit needs a new supervisory agent, and I figure all those years of supervising Grace taught me a few things."

Jane was taken by surprise, an unusual feeling. "Does Cho know?"

"Yes. He understands. He promised to give me a glowing recommendation as long as I don't poach Wylie."

Jane let the realization settle over him. "So...no more field work?"

"Very, very rarely," she said.

Jane leaned over so he could kiss her. "Thank you," he breathed.

"Don't get too excited. I might not get the position."

"Yes, you will." He began thinking of strings he could pull.

"It's not a 9 to 5 thing," she cautioned. "It'll still be a lot of hard work. But no travel, except maybe for conferences and that kind of thing."

"As long as you're safe and home with us at night, I'm happy," Jane assured her.

"Good. Though I have to admit," she said, "I'm going to miss the letters you wrote me while I was away on cases."

"I'll still write you letters," Jane promised.

"For special occasions?"

"Maybe. Or maybe just when the mood strikes. I am a man of mystery, after all." He gave her a big smug grin.

"You just keep telling yourself that," she chuckled. "It'll be tough to find time to be mysterious when you've got three kids in diapers."

He laid a hand on her belly. "I can't wait."

She beamed at him. "Me neither."