Hello all, i am back again :) With a chapter that seemed to have a mind of it's own, as i never really intended to go down this road, but am now glad that i did. Enjoy..

Of Many Things
Chapter Twenty Three

Jane wasn't quite sure how he had made it to the ghastly corridor outside of Lisbon's room. Because it still was her room. The bed was empty now, but it still held her essence. It smelt like Teresa Lisbon, and it was a place he hadn't wanted to leave, of that he was sure. He had felt the moment she slipped away from him, a hardly noticeable change, but he had known what it meant. He was alone; and that was something that he had never wanted to experience again. He had clung so tightly to her body; not caring that people would see him as the broken and uncontrolled man the he had again become. What did any of it matter any more? She was gone. He had nothing. He hadn't noticed the nurses that were quietly going about their business. He hadn't realised that Dr. Jenson was speaking to him. All he knew was that he had loved Teresa Lisbon, and as long as he could hold her beautiful form, he would be ok. He could go on pretending that she was simply sleeping in his arms. That she would rise with the sun, and kiss him ever so lightly on the cheek. Slightly embarrassed by her dishevelled hair and smudged mascara. She would watch him as he made her coffee. Shower with him before they both headed off to work. It was a bitter sweet denial, but one that he needed; at least for a little while longer.

Now he was sat, in the very same chair as he had been hours before, staring intently at nothing in particular. He could hear the overpowering sobs of VanPelt. The whispers of Rigsby. The silent tears of Cho, only given away by the tightness of his breathing. None knew what to say, and nor did they really feel like talking. They sat together in their grief, and let the horror of the day wash over their exhausted minds. Soon they would have to leave; the hospital was busy, and they really no longer had any right to be there. They would each go home to some form of comfort, that they knew would do nothing to make any of this feel even remotely better. VanPelt and Rigsby would leave together; needing the security of another human being to get them through the night. Cho would go home to his empty apartment, pour himself a glass of something much stronger than coffee, and read novel after novel; wanting desperately to stop the tears that were sure to cloud his vision. Jane, well Jane had no idea as to what he was going to do. He didn't feel like going home, and he didn't really have one to speak of. He had no loving arms to curl up into. No one to share his pain with. He was, for the second time in his life, completely and utterly alone.

Dr. Jenson was about to finish the most heart breaking shift she had ever been through in her entire life. She intended to go home, watch a mindless romantic comedy with her flat mates, and eat as much chocolate ice cream as she could stomach. She saw death on an almost daily basis, but it had never hit her quite like this before. There was something so wonderful about Teresa Lisbon, and she wished that she had been able to do more. To stop the three agents and the consultant currently sat in the blank and emotionless corridor from losing someone that clearly meant so much to them. Just as she was about to leave, she remembered the letters she had promised to pass on to them, and made a quick detour to collect them. The envelopes weighed heavy in her hands as she approached the four grief stricken bodies. She wished desperately that she could make them feel better, but she knew that she couldn't. Perhaps the words of their fearless leader would offer a small help. Perhaps they would break their hearts even more.

Jane had, much like the others, been shocked by the delivery of a letter from Lisbon. He wasn't sure if he dared read it yet. All that he felt, all the the pain, it was too fresh, too strong. He needed chance to clear his head a little. To really appreciate and understand the heart felt words that he was sure to find insides the pale ivory envelope. And that is why he currently found himself sat in the office of Teresa Lisbon, on the sofa he had brought her as an apology for one of his crack pot schemes, as she called them, drinking tea that was a couple of degrease too hot, trying to find the courage to open her letter. As he turned the envelope round in his hand, the almost missable sentiment that she had written in the back left corner caught his attention. The letters, smaller than usual, but unmistakably in the handwriting of Teresa Lisbon, brought a smile to his face that he had thought of as impossible in light of the loss he felt. But there they were, five little words smiling up at him. He could almost see the smirk that would have graced her features as she thought of writing them. The hint of mischief in her beautiful eyes. And as he read them once more, he realised that the only option that he ever had was to open the envelope, even before he found her little message, 'Go on, I dare you.'

So, what did you think?
I know it was rather short, but i thought that the actual reading of the letters they each received deserved a chapter of their own. I have always loved the idea of hand written letters, so i rather enjoy bringing them into my stories. I'm not sure if each one will be a single chapter, or if they will all combine into one. I'm just going to see where my mind takes me.
I will update soon. Thank you for reading.
Katie.