Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my own creations.

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Teresa Lisbon was at home, six months pregnant, minding her 16 month old daughter Adelaide, when she gets the call.

'Teresa Jane?' said a voice.

'Yes?' she responded, a sense of foreboding filling her.

'My name is Alison Britt from Casuarina Hospital. We have your husband here. He's in surgery at the moment.'

'Surgery? What. Why?' she asked, going into shock.

'He took a bullet to his shoulder ma'am. It looks to be a clean in and out. He should be fine. But we'll need you at the hospital.'

'I'll be there as soon as I can,' said a flustered Teresa, hanging up the call, but still gripping the phone hard.

After standing still for a few moments, she snaps into action, sweeping up the objecting Adelaide into her arms and ringing her neighbour. Having organised a babysitter for a few hours, Teresa drives to the hospital, phoning Cho as she did so, but unable to get through. What had gone wrong – and why hadn't they contacted her?

Arriving in the hospital foyer, Teresa tries to keep calm, but her hormones were seriously out of whack. 'Patrick Jane?'

'Straight down the corridor.'

Meeting up with the team in the waiting room, Teresa wants to know what the hell went wrong. Van Pelt and Rigsby trip over themselves in their haste to answer this outraged pregnant woman. Cho added information only as required, whilst new team member Lance Nottingham wisely stood back.

The team had all thought that someone else was contacting Teresa, when in fact no one had. The suspect had gone ballistic and started shooting madly. One police officer had died, another was in intensive care, and Patrick had been hit in the shoulder.

Teresa takes a seat, but when the surgeon comes out and asks who is here for Patrick Jane, Teresa quickly stands and approaches the man. 'I'm his wife. How is he?'

'He's fine. We'll keep him overnight, but then he should be fine to go home tomorrow. No work, no stress and plenty of rest.'

'Can I see him?'

'Sure. Are you Teresa?' when she nodded, he continued. 'He's been saying your name a fair bit. The nurse will show you to his room.'

Teresa enters the room alone to find her husband lying on the bed, face pale, looking nothing like the exuberant personality that he normally is. His eyes were closed, but fluttered open as Teresa stood by the edge of the bed and brushed his cheek with her hand.

Patrick struggled to raise his uninjured arm to his wife as he mumbled 'Tess'. Unable to reach her face, he contented himself with resting his hand on her swollen belly that encased their unborn child. 'Addy?' he managed to groan out.

'Kelli's got her.'

Grunting, Patrick moves a little as he pulls Teresa to sit on the edge of the bed.

'How you feeling?' Patrick doesn't bother answering this question, instead raising his eyebrow at her. 'You being a good patient?'

Patrick snorts, then grimaces in pain. 'Home?'

'Nah ah. You're here for the night. If you're lucky, you'll be out tomorrow.'

'Eh.' The drugs were doing their job as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Teresa leaned down and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. 'Sleep.' Watching him fall into the land of slumber, Teresa continued to bracket his cheek.

When a nurse entered the room a little later, she was greeted with a sleeping patient and the tired face of what was clearly his wife. As the nurse checked everything, Teresa stood up, grabbing her stiff back. Bending down for one last kiss, she left the room to see the team.

'He's sleeping now. The drugs have knocked him out. I'm going to head home now to get Adelaide from the neighbours', but would be most appreciative if someone could ring me when he wakes up again.'

Rigsby and Van Pelt agree to stay at the hospital – they've got enough paperwork to fill out anyway – and Cho takes newbie Lance Nottingham with him back to the station to follow up on this situation.

Three hours later, just after 7pm, after collecting Addy from Kelli's, feeding her, bathing her and finally managing to put her to bed in what felt like a haze, she gets the phone call from Rigsby that Patrick is awake again. Pondering at her present babysitting dilemma, her musings are interrupted by a knock on the door: there stands Cho, a stack of paperwork under his arm, a blank face, and a promise to watch Addy for as long as needed that night.

When Teresa steps into her husband's hospital room half an hour later, it's to a far more alert Patrick. Bending down to kiss him, she brushes his hair from his forehead and looks into his eyes as he grins. 'Feeling better?'

'Oh yes. I'm just peachy here! How about you?'

Teresa groans at his happy tone. Patrick Jane is definitely okay! 'Well, I've got a budding soccer player up my shirt, had a near heart attack about a shooting, I've got a sleeping baby at home who wants her Daddy and a husband who is destined to be a bad patient once again.'

Patrick sobered up instantly. 'Tess, I ...'

'It's fine Patrick. I know it wasn't your fault. You didn't mean to get shot,' brushing hair from her face she continues. 'I'm just tired. Whatever little adrenaline I had in my body has now officially left me.'

Patrick pulls her as close as possible and says 'I love you.' Smiling wanly she responded: 'Love you too.'

'Now where is that nurse. I want my pudding!'

Teresa rolls her eyes as she gets off the bed and sits in the chair beside him. Propping her legs up on the bed frame, she watches Patrick terrorise the poor night nurse that came in. She reprimanded him with a 'Patrick, behave' but when he blatantly ignored her, she gave up.

Watching Patrick eat the three puddings in front of him with gusto, Teresa suddenly feels an urge to throw up. All the hospital smells, exhaustion and food has hit a cumulative boiling point and she drops her legs and bolts for her husband's private bathroom.

Patrick looks up from his tray and listens frantically as he hears Teresa upending her stomach contents in the toilet. Pushing his table away, he gingerly pulls his sheet back as he attempts to get out of bed and help his wife.

By the time Teresa re-enters the room, having washed out the awful sensation from her mouth, he was ready to pull out his IV drip from his hand. 'Patrick what are you doing?!'

'Coming to you Tess. You okay?'

'I'm fine. Smells got to me. Now get back in bed. I want you home tomorrow - so you need to get better.' Patrick can see that his wife is on the verge of an emotional breakdown, so pops back into bed instantly. Teresa is still talking and avoiding eye contact with him as she pulls his sheets up.

Grabbing her hand, Patrick says her name softly. Refusing to make eye contact, Teresa picks at the sheet in front of her. 'Teresa, look at me.' Eyes brimming with tears, Teresa looks up, biting her lower lip. 'I'm still here.' It's too much for her and the floodgates open.

Pulling her toward him, Patrick tells Teresa to get in bed with him. She baulks, but he insists. Laying on the edge of the bed, Patrick tucks her into his body as much as he can with a shoulder wound and needing to work around the pregnancy bump as well.

He holds her as the tears silently run down her cheeks. Kissing her forehead, he sheds a tear or two as well. Once replete, Teresa looks up at him with watery eyes. 'I hate crying.'

Patrick grins in response, brushing her tears away, before pushing her head onto his chest once again. Running his hands through her hair until her breathing evens out, he knows she is sleeping.

Wincing in pain, he buzzes the nurse. Now to deal with that shoulder pain.

He curses inwardly when he discovers the nurse answering his call is the one he abused earlier. Oops! He looks at her glaring face meekly, ready to beg, but the nurse's face softens when she sees him cradling the pregnant woman and readily grants his request for pain relief.

He'd have to thank her for that later!