I'm sorry; I had real problems with this part, that's why I couldn't update earlier.

I'm glad you liked the last story; originally, it was my intention that the first 10 parts are happy ones, but such stories never do what they're are told +smile+ Thank you very much for your reviews - and welcome to my new readers :)

EIGHT - Cute

Set at the beginning of "The Thin Red Line".

Teresa Lisbon liked it when their work was this easy. Partly easy at least; but getting a mailing address handed on a silver plate qualified itself as "easy". And it qualified itself as "very helpful"; every one of them wanted to close cases as soon as possible and everything that helped to do so was embraced.

She heard herself saying "Let's go" to her colleague Patrick Jane, but he was already up to get into the car. Sometimes she asked herself why she was even saying these things to him. Only reason she could think of was that he, while he had the leading role in solving the cases, needed to be told how to do it within the regulations...

The drive from the motel to Patrice Matigan's home was, as it was normal for their car rides, spent in silence. A comfortable silence she had learned to appreciate. Both dwelling on their own thoughts; whether it was something private or about the case. It was nice to have someone who didn't felt the need to talk, who could just be silent. On the other hand, she also liked the conversations they shared, the easiness they were talking about everything and anything.

And this time, she decided, there was something she wanted to talk about.

"You and the baby... you made a real cute picture, you know." She grinned when she saw his mind working.

"Do you talk about the baby or me?" He asked innocently and smiled winningly at her, playing the anxious one who was awaiting an answer.

"You," she made a dramatic pause, and then added, "With the baby."

"People said the same to me after my daughter was born," he responded, and for a short moment, Lisbon saw grief and hurt flicker in his features, but it was gone in the blink of an eye.

Careful, Lisbon, an inner voice warned her, that's dangerous territory. She was barely able to end that thought before he added: "You know, you should have held her, too. Would have been interesting to see what you look like with a baby."

"Me? Oh, I'm not good with kids. When my nephew was born my sister-in-law forbid me to hold him after I had tried it for the first time." She looked at him confused when he chuckled. "What's so funny?"

"What? Did you hold him at his feet?"

"I'm not that bad, Jane."

"I'm just imagining your sister-in-law become furious because you held the baby in the wrong angle by five degrees." She frowned at him and he momentarily shut his mouth. Then he became more serious. "Look, your sister-in-law probably was as inexperienced with kids as you are when her son was born. But expectant mothers develop the motherly instinct. Few women have it before their first pregnancy, but most don't know how to hold a baby and understand its needs before they conceive or give birth to the child."

"And...?" She didn't get his point.

"And... I'm sure you'd be a wonderful, a caring and loving mother."

"Sure. Barely at home, permanently risking my life, putting myself in danger... I'd be a great mother, you're right," she commented, grumbling a bit. He just smiled. Bad habit of his, she thought and turned her concentration back to the street.

After a few minutes of silence and heavy thoughtfulness filling the car, he rose to speak again.

"Some women need an introductory advice about how to hold a baby, how to feed and swaddle them and such things. Not because they don't know how to do it, but simply because there are afraid of doing something wrong. Nurses and midwifes will tell them the 'basics', and that a baby isn't a breakable piece of glass. When my daughter was born, my wife never got this advice; she just knew what to do. I can't say I know how it feels, but I know that women feel it, this instinct how to act around their child."

She was surprised about how open he was, how easily he talked about his wife and daughter. And still she had the impression that he wanted to tell her something with it; but she didn't know what it was or could be. Admittedly, she had started this; she had started talking about him and the baby.

"You know, I saw your reaction to the baby. The tender look you gave her. But I also saw that you were anxious to come near her. But there's nothing to be afraid of. Especially not of admitting that you love children. And that you wish you had one of your own."

She opened and closed her mouth twice at that, but no word came out. It was nothing she could really reply to; she knew he was right, but she preferred not admitting it. It would make her think about the whole topic, about her wish of a child of her own, and that it wasn't just impossible at the moment. For several reasons.

He seemed to accept her reserve, feeling that she didn't want to talk about this topic, at least not now. He knew that it wasn't an easy topic; neither for him nor for her. Both their lives contained contingencies that just didn't seem to give them the chance to spend their life with a family of their own. Only difference was that he knew what it was like living with a family. And then again, live without it after losing it.

They fell into silence again till they arrived. Lisbon was about to take her way to the bungalow, but was stopped by his voice.

"Ah, Lisbon?"

"Yeah?" He was waving with his hand, signing her to come over to him. She followed the silent request, skepticism showing on her face.

"I really hope that one day, I will see you holding a baby," he told her in a meaningful tone of voice, than lifted her head by placing two fingers under her chin and placed a kiss just above the corner of her mouth.

END