Chapter 7

A/N: Oh wow, I'm SO sorry for the long wait. I have no excuses but my laziness to blame. Well I have two periods free tomorrow so I hopefully I can get chapter 8 typed up then.

Disclaimer: I'm not going to put these in each chapter; just when I remember. But we all know I don't own it. If I did, then it would have been me meeting the Simon Baker, Robin Tunney and Tim Kang, and Jane and Lisbon would have already professed their undying love for each other. Until that happens, it's a no-no.

Turning around she caught his eyes with hers.

"Thank you," she said softly.

He nodded.

It was only then that she noticed his hand hadn't moved from the crook of her neck. Their eyes connected again, and she found she had a difficult time breathing. Suddenly it seemed as if his body was shifting closer to hers. Sucking in a breath, she braced herself for what was to come.

Lisbon sighed in relief as he reached passed her to turn the tap off. Jane smiled slightly at her when he pulled back and left the bathroom to let her get cleaned up.

She groaned as the steaming water ran down her back. She wasn't upset that he hadn't kiss her, she was just upset that she thought he might. Lisbon banged the back of her head against the shower wall. What was wrong with her? Was it okay for her to be so angry that he couldn't remember her and probably wouldn't remember their baby when it wasn't his fault? It probably was okay, but that didn't stop her from feeling the way she did.

Lisbon finally deduced that her anger wasn't directed to him, per sé; she really didn't know whom or what she was angry at. At God, maybe. For putting them through this after all they'd been through already: the deaths of Jane's wife and child, what it took for him to finally move pass that, Red John, and now this? Were they ever meant to have a happy ending?

Sobs racked her body against the wall as she shed the tears she had been restraining for two weeks. She'd be lying if she said it didn't kill her everytime he looked at her. It was just a reminder of the Jane she lost; the Jane she hated to think – but was a possibility – she couldn't get back. His gaze still made her stomach flutter inside, but the warmth and love he reserved just for her was gone. It was empty, like she was just another individual and no one special.

Lisbon dried her hair as she ventured into the bedroom to change. Morning sickness was very new to her and she felt as if bile was always in her throat and the simpliest of smells could turn her stomach.

Slipping into an old, worn jersey, she dropped on her bed and pulled the black and white snapshot from her drawer. Today had been her first ultrasound appointment and Patrick had gone with her. She smiled warmly as she ran a finger over the photo and recalled the look of pure nervousness that had been etched across his face.

Her hands absentmindedly trailed across the picture, her mind lost in the memory of seeing her baby for the first time. It was so incredibly tiny, it couldn't be much more bigger than her hand. It didn't even look anything like a baby. She couldn't make out limbs, a head; nothing. It was simply a tiny blob, yet the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Immediately, she knew, despite everything that was going on at the moment, she knew she was going to do everything in her power to care for her baby. Because it was hers, hers and Patrick's.

"Teresa?"

Her hands stilled on the picture before she tucked it carefully away in her drawer.

"Come in, Patrick," she said, after making sure she was decent and it hadn't looked like she had been crying. Lisbon involuntarily sucked in a breath when Jane's blond head poked through the door. He really was gorgeous, and she found nothing could diminish the attraction she felt for him. Even if he considered her a total stranger then.

"How are you feeling?" he asked carefully, stepping almost shyly into her room.

She offered him a thin smile, "Better, thanks. I'm a bit tired, I think I'm gonna clock in." Jane nodded and then sighed, walking over to her bed.

"Look, I'm sorry. I know I'm not much help, but I would be if I – if I could remember. I just – I'm sorry, okay?"

She knew it was hard on him, knew he couldn't help the lost and emptiness he was feeling. He wasn't her husband, but he was trying to be. She felt tears prick her eyes and looked away from him. "S'okay, Patrick. I know."

Silence followed before she felt his hand on hers, squeezing slightly.

And she knew.

They were going to be okay.