When Teresa woke in the morning, the space beside her was cold and empty. "Jane?" Her jersey lay at the foot of the bed, she slipped it on and threw her legs over the side. "Jane?" She found her phone and checked for messages, looked around to see if he had left a note, but there was nothing.

The door opened, just as she was about to call him, and he bounded inside. "Ahh! You're awake, perfect timing." He leant forward and gave her a gentle kiss, hands full with takeaway cups and a sweet-smelling paper bag. "Good morning." He said, a smile in his eyes. "I come baring gifts." He handed her a cup, gesturing for her to sit at the small table. "Coffee for you, and…" he reached into the bag. "a blueberry muffin."

"I could get used to this." She murmured as she sat, raising the coffee cup to her lips.

"Me too." He smiled, that incandescent smile, full of warmth, and love and mischief. Completely disarming.

"Aren't you meant to be at work?" she said, smiling back at him.

He sat down with her, sipping his tea. "Well, I had a word with Abbot this morning, while you were still snoring…"

"I do not snore!" she interjected.

"While you were still snoring," He raised a mocking brow at her. "and I've taken the day off."

"What did he say?" she asked around a mouthful of muffin.

"Oh…" He shrugged "There may have been a somewhat sarcastic comment about coincidence, but other than that, not much. So, once you've finished your coffee, we can head over to your place and make a start on the unpacking."

"You don't mind?" She enquired hopefully. She really wanted to get settled back in, the last few days had been such a whirlwind, she needed a bit of stability.

"Of course not, I understand." He smiled "Home is important to you."

"Isn't it important to you?"

He shrugged "I've lived a transient life Teresa, home isn't a place for me, it's people." He gazed at her tenderly. "You're my home."

Lost for words at his statement, she reached over the table and took his hand, giving it a squeeze as she gazed at him. "You promise not to snoop though, right?" she said earnestly and grinned.

"Oh Lisbon." He laughed. "Not a chance!"


"Where do you want to start?" Patrick asked as they surveyed the array of boxes stacked neatly in the living room of Teresa's house.

"I swear they've multiplied." She sighed. "Bedroom and bathroom, I think. I'd like to take a shower and change." She grabbed a suitcase and headed for the stairs. "Can you have a look for towels and bedding?"

"Will do." Thankfully, the boxes were all labelled by room, so it didn't take long for him to find the right ones. Several trips up and down the stairs later, the bed was made, towels in place and Teresa was putting away her clothes.

He dropped the last suitcase with a groan. "That's the lot, I'm going to make a cup of tea while you shower."

"OK." She said absently then snapped her head up. "No snooping!" she shouted after him.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Lisbon!" he called back innocently, a smile in his voice, as he trotted downstairs.

A good rummage through the kitchen paraphernalia turned up what he needed and a few minutes later he had himself a well-earned cup of tea.

He wandered into the living room, cup in hand, looking over the remaining boxes until one labelled "memories" caught his eye. He could hear the shower running, so with a cautious glance toward the stairs, he put his cup down on the coffee table and dragged the box over to the couch. With a waggle of his fingers, he pulled back the tape and opened it with gleeful anticipation. A leather-bound album lay on top, pay dirt! he thought, reaching for it with a grin. He turned the pages, scrutinising the images of a young Teresa and her siblings; first days at school, gap toothed smiles and trips to see Santa. She was adorable, questionable haircuts notwithstanding. He turned the last page and there it was, Teresa Lisbon in a band uniform, holding a clarinet. Ha! He knew it.

Putting the album aside he reached down again and withdrew a small brown box. A window on top revealed a collection of letters inside. Curious, he lifted the lid and pulled the first one out. They were his letters. She'd kept them all. With a pained expression he opened it, observing how well read it was and noting the tear drops that stained the page. He swallowed the lump in his throat and wondered if they'd been tears of happiness that he was alright or angry tears because he'd left her behind.

He refolded it carefully and was putting it back when he spotted the envelope that sat behind it. It was addressed to him. He rifled through the others; each one had an accompanying envelope with his name on it. She'd replied to each and every letter. Oh Teresa he thought, touched by her need to stay connected with him. He desperately wanted to read them, but that would be a terrible invasion of her privacy. A step too far, even for him. Maybe, one day, she would give them to him.

Hearing movement upstairs he quickly put the box back where he'd gotten it and settled back on the couch with feigned nonchalance, the opened photo album in his lap.

"Hey! You said you wouldn't snoop." She stood in front of him, hands on hips, wearing jeans and a sleeveless top, hair still damp from the shower.

Patrick wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her, tell her he was sorry, but guilt was a useless emotion, he just needed to make her happy now. He held up the album pointing at her band photo, crowing. "The clarinet Lisbon, I knew it!"

"Give me that." She said, dropping down beside him. "God, look at my hair."

"It was certainly a statement." Patrick teased and she elbowed him in the ribs.

She flipped back to the first page, smiling at the childhood snaps. Patrick put his arm around her, and they settled more comfortably into the couch as she reminisced about life with her brothers, laughing and joking about their youthful indiscretions. He was certainly looking forward to meeting the other two Lisbon brothers, they seemed quite the characters.

"I suppose we should carry on." She sighed putting away the album. "Do you think there's a service I could pay for, that would do it for me?" she asked hopefully.

"Err, no. I don't. Come on." He stood and tugged her up with him. "I've never noticed this lazy streak in you before Lisbon. I'm shocked."

"Yeah right. This from the man who considers lying down on a couch, work."

"Opens the mind Lisbon, opens the mind." He drawled, pushing her towards the kitchen with a smile.

"Tyrant." She grumbled, reaching for the first box.

There wasn't a huge amount to put away, so it didn't take them long to get the kitchen ship shape.

"Let's go and get some lunch, we can leave the rest for now." he said, collapsing the last of the boxes. "We can stop at the grocery store on the way back, get some supplies and something for dinner. I'll cook."

"You cook? We're talking more than eggs, right?" She closed a cupboard door and turned around, a dubious look on her face.

"You doubt me Lisbon? Oh ye of little faith." He shook his head, disapproving.

Teresa held up her hands "OK, fine, but if you give me food poisoning, I will shoot you."

"Always good to know Lisbon." He grinned and picked up her keys. "Your chariot awaits."