A/N: Okay, so I'm terrible at keeping promises :D. Here's the next chapter, even though I don't have 12 reviews yet... Just, ENJOY this chapter, please!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

"Well, my name is Wayne Rigsby," Rigsby said, and smiled. Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt had made a silent vow to Jane (and Lisbon) to not remind Lisbon of anything she did when she was still 38. Just make her feel relaxed and comfortable with them before she would remember things was the best they could do.

Jane all but ran into the bullpen. The trio and Lisbon looked up at him.

"Lisbon, you're-" Jane started, but saw that Lisbon did not like being called Lisbon. Of course, she was twelve, it was very distantly and cold to be calling her by her last name. Mental note: Start calling Lisbon Teresa.

"Sorry. Teresa, Luther said that you can stay with me for the time being," Jane said, and Teresa nodded. He saw that she didn't really liked it, but what else could she do?

"Jane? It's the psychiatrist. He says that Lisbon will get her own memories back in about two weeks. In the meantime, we can tell her that she's Lisbon and everything that happened to her since she was twelve," Van Pelt said, and Jane nodded.
That left the impossible job of reminding Lisbon of her past to Jane.

-YulianaHenderson-

"And we're here," Jane said, stopping in front of his house. He hadn't used it for ages. He'd bought it when he started with the CBI. But it felt strange live here, since he was alone and the house was incredibly huge.

Teresa entered it after him, and looked around. She seemed impressed.

"My house is just a shoebox compared to this house," she said, and looked at Jane.

"Do you live here alone?" she asked, and Jane nodded.

"Yes," he said, and Teresa swallowed. She then looked around again.

"So you won't tell me where my parents are. But can you at least tell me where my brothers are? Because they're too young to be alone for a long time," Teresa said.

All of a sudden, an idea popped into Jane's head.

He walked into the direction of the bathroom downstairs, motioning to Teresa to follow him.

She hesitated a bit, but then walked after him into the room.

Jane stood there, in front of the mirror. Teresa raised her eyebrows.

Jane gently grabbed her arm, and pulled her in front of the mirror as well, placing his hands on her shoulder. She pushed his hands away from her, but then immediately gasped as she saw herself in the mirror.

She leant on the sink, leaning in closer. She touched her face, not comprehending what was happening.

"Why do I look this old?" Teresa asked. Jane shrugged.

"I don't know. A suspect in our case hit you," Jane said, and she turned to him.

"Why didn't you tell me this?" Teresa asked, and Jane shook his head.

"Like it's easy for me," he said, and she sighed. She turned around to look at him.

"So… I'm not actually twelve, I'm…"

"38."

"I'm 38. But… I don't get it," she said, and Jane sighed.

"I don't get it either. But we have an appointment tomorrow with the psychiatrist. Maybe he can help," Jane said, and Teresa nodded.

She then turned to the mirror again.

"I'm tired, I want to go to bed," she said, and Jane nodded. Then he realized what she meant, and immediately ran outside of the bathroom, into the hall where the bedrooms were located.

She followed him, slowly, and watched as he moved a lot of pillows and blankets to another room. He then, all the while panting heavily, returned to her, and motioned to the spare room. Not that it was meant to be a spare room, or that Jane intended on inviting people over to his place, but it would do for now.

She walked into the room, and smiled.

The room was completely pink, princess and ballerinas covering the walls. Flowers were everywhere; on the floor, on the walls, on the ceiling. The only think that missed was a four-poster bed.

She looked at him.

"I thought you lived alone?" she asked, and he shrugged.

"The previous owners left it like this. I haven't had the time to change it yet," he said, and she pouted.

"But I don't have any clothes," she said, and Jane nodded.

"But you've got an apartment. We'll go there tomorrow and get some clothes," he said, and she nodded.

"Are these the same clothes I'm wearing now?" she asked, and Jane chuckled.

"Yeah, you're quite the boring-clothes type," he said, and she fought back the urge to hit him.

"I want to go sleeping now," she said, and he nodded.

"Shall I give you a shirt from me, only for this night?" he asked, and she nodded, a faint smile on her lips.

He went away, and she sat down on the bed. She searched her pockets, to see it there was anything in it.

And there was. There was an old picture of her mother.

And immediately, a tear escaped her eyes, moistening the picture. She quickly wiped the tear away.

So apparently, she was not twelve. But why did she have the thoughts of a twelve year old? Her brothers maybe could figure that out. At least, if that Patrick Jane let her go. He cared about her, that was sure. But she didn't know him.

He entered the room, a shirt in his hands, and she looked up. His eyes widened when saw that Teresa was crying.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and sat down next to her. She moved away from him.

"Nothing, it's just… My mum died a few months ago," she said, and she saw Jane frowning.

"She was involved in a car accident. Now I live with my father, and my brothers. They are actually quite sweet. James, the oldest, is really smart. He's eleven right now. Michael is ten and Tommy is eight. You see why I need to get back home? James and Michael can handle on their own, but Tommy can't," Teresa rambled, and Jane just nodded, this whole situation becoming more awful with the second.

Suddenly, Teresa burst into tears, and Jane just placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to make her stop crying.

A/N: What do you think? Let me know!