Warning: there will be a bit at the end that deals with the death of a child and some may find it disturbing.

"Wayne! What did you do?" Grace rushed over to Jane, who was rolling on the floor, his hand covering his nose and mouth. "Are you okay? Jane, did he hurt you?"

"He punched be in da face! Of course he hurt be!"

"I'm so sorry! Here, let me help you up." She put her arm around him and helped him sit up. Come on, onto the bed."

With a groan Jane managed to stand and stumbled over to the bed, collapsing on top of it, his hand still over his face.

"Well don't just stand there Wayne, go get him some ice. I can't believe you did that."

"I'm – I'm sorry. I just – I was thinking about Lisbon and I -"

"Ice!"

"Okay – right away." Wayne started out the door and then stopped. Turning around he checked out the room until he found the ice bucket, grabbed it and made a quick getaway.

"I'm so sorry Jane. I don't know what got into him. We didn't come here for this. We were worried about you."

Patrick lifted his head and peered at Grace from watery eyes. "Yes, I cad tell", he answered, sounding as if he had a cold.

Grace grimaced. "Wayne was worried about you too – really. I think – he just – got all 'big-brother' protective of Teresa. He didn't mean it."

Patrick shook his head, regretting it almost instantly. He finally put his hand down, which caused Grace to wince. His nose was red and it looked like he was already starting to bruise. He was definitely going to have at least one black eye.

"You okay?" she asked gently.

He laughed softly. "Oh yeah – just fine."

Grace sighed. "No you're not", she answered gently, sitting beside him. She put her arm around him and pulled him close. This had never been their relationship, but she'd always had a soft spot for him. And right now she was positive he was in need of some TLC. "I know it's hard for you right now, but we're here for you", she told him quietly.

It took a few seconds for Jane to be able to respond. His emotions had been running close to the surface since – God, when was it? Since Teresa had told him about the pregnancy. He was also exhausted from all the things he'd faced today. Grace's warm compassion almost caused him to break, but he stopped himself. There was no way he was going to cry all over her.

He had a suspicion that he'd already done that with Cho. He couldn't remember too much, and he prayed it was nothing more than a dream. Whether dream or memory, however, all he knew was that he felt embarrassed and he wasn't about to let it happen again. He cleared his throat and sat up, trying to once more show he was in control. "How did you find me?"

"We figured you were in California since Lisbon thought you'd go to your house in Malibu. That and we checked on your credit card usage."

Jane nodded. "She's right, I went to my house but there's no furniture so I came here to sleep."

Just then Wayne stuck his head through the door, a sheepish look on his face. "Uh, I have some ice. I got the front desk to give me some zip lock bags and I put it in one."

Patrick held out his hand, so that Wayne was forced to come in. After taking the bag of ice and placing it on his nose Jane had a sudden, sharp memory of his first day at the CBI. So many years had passed since then and he was still making people mad enough to hit him.

"I'm really sorry man", Wayne said, standing in front of him, looking like a tall – a very tall - naughty little boy. "I don't know what got into me. I didn't plan on doing that."

"Ts'okay", Jane answered, not looking at the younger man. "I deserved it."

Wayne smiled and squatted down until he could look Jane in the face. "No – no you didn't. It's not that I don't think you were an idiot to run off, but I know you didn't do it to hurt Teresa."

"No – I never wanted to do that", Patrick answered softly. With a sigh he dropped his hand and the ice. "But I did."

Wayne winced as he too saw the damage. "Should we take you to the hospital?"

"No! No, I'm fine, just a bit sore."

The three of them sat silently, no one quite sure what to say or do next. It was Jane who finally broke the silence.

"Is she okay?"

"Who, Teresa?" Grace asked. "Well, she's mostly worried about you."

Jane closed his eyes. He hadn't wanted that, but it wasn't a surprise. Of course she'd worry about him. It was practically her life because since she'd met him he had continuously done things to make her worry. She really would be better off – "Ow!" He opened his eyes and looked at Grace, who had just slugged him in the arm. "What was that?"

"I'm sorry", she answered, not looking in the slightest repentant. "But you were sitting there thinking that Teresa would be better off without you and that's crap. She's better – you're both better – when you're together."

"What, you're a mind reader now?" he asked softly, although he admitted her words had warmed him.

"I've learned from the best", she smiled at him. "And I'm right, but now's not the time to talk about it. It's late and you need to rest. Tomorrow we're taking you home with us and we'll figure all this out."

"Taking me home? Like a lost puppy?"

"No, like a friend."

"If we leave you here, are you going to disappear?" Wayne asked suddenly.

Patrick took a deep breath in, so tired he could barely think. And right now he didn't want to think. He didn't want to figure out what to do or how to feel. He looked at Grace, with her arm around him and Wayne, kneeling in front of him. They were regarding him with concern and compassion – not as a terrible person, a damaged person, but as a friend.

And right now he needed his friends. He needed to lean on someone, to let someone take care of him. He could put on his mask, the one he'd worn for so many years, and let them thing he was fine or he could – for once – let someone know that he was in trouble and needed help.

"No", he said softly, the decision made. He looked Wayne directly in the eye. "I won't disappear. If you're sure – I'd like to go back with you."

Wayne nodded and smiled. "Okay then, Grace and I are going to get a room and try to get a few hours sleep. In the morning we'll come by and collect you. Do you want to call Teresa and let her know what you're doing, or shall we?"

"I –" he didn't know if he could. He knew he needed to talk to her, but didn't know if he would be able to, not now.

"We'll call her now and let her know you're safe. I'll tell her you'll call tomorrow, is that okay?" Grace asked.

"Yes", he nodded. Then he allowed his present mask to slip a bit. His lips trembled slightly. "Tell her I love her."

"I will", she smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "And you know she loves you, right?" Without waiting for his answer she stood and helped Wayne to his feet. "Now I'm ready for bed. Go to sleep Jane. Everything will look much better in the morning."

He nodded. "Just promise me you won't hit me again, okay? I really don't think I can take it."

They both laughed but agreed. "Go to sleep."

He pushed himself back on the bed, too tired to even stand up. Within moments he was out. His friends were here and he could trust them to deal with everything, at least for now.

"Teresa?"

"Grace! What is it? Did you find him?"

"Yes we did. He's at a motel in Santa Monica and he's okay."

"You're sure? He talked to you? What did he say?"

"Not much. He was exhausted – it's late here and we woke him up. Look, we didn't really talk, although he was concerned about you and wanted to make sure you were okay. Teresa, I invited him to come and stay with us for a while. I hope you're okay with that. I think he needs some time to deal with everything."

"Did he agree to go?"

"Yes he did. In fact he seemed to be relieved at the idea – and he promised Wayne he wouldn't run away."

"Good. Thank you Grace – I think it's a great idea". She was silent for a few seconds. I'm going to miss him."

"Of course you will" Grace agreed. "And he's already missing you. Oh, by the way, I'm supposed to tell you he'll call tomorrow – I don't think he was up to it tonight. He also told me to tell you he loves you."

Teresa let out relieved breath and the tears again began to fall. She was still frightened and upset, but there was hope. "Thank you Grace", she said again. "Please let me know how he's doing."

Jane woke up the next morning, still tired and feeling a bit stiff. He also had a headache and wished he had some painkillers. He glanced at his watch, surprised that it was already 9:30. He blinked a few times and finally pushed himself up. He wasn't sure what time Wayne and Grace would be by but figured he should at least shower.

He glanced down at himself and winced. He didn't have any clothes with him and had ended up sleeping in his pants and shirt – which were now horribly wrinkled. He should have taken them off but he'd been so tired he had fallen asleep without even thinking about it. He was going to look like a homeless man dressed like this. He smiled when he remembered Teresa telling him to clean up the first time he'd met her. Yes, she was definitely good for him.

He stripped his clothes and headed into the shower, grateful for the hot, steamy water, which washed away the grime of the past couple of days. He just wished it could wash away the panic.

He'd purchased a disposable razor and a travel size shave cream so after his shower he headed to the sink to get rid of the two-day growth of beard. One look in the mirror had him doing a double take.

"Damn! I look like a raccoon." He winced as he saw the two black bruises that travelled across the bridge of his nose and circled under both eyes. His finger traced the bruises and he shook his head. He really did deserve them.

He figured the Rigsby's were probably sleeping in as they'd arrived so late. That left him time to make a phone call. He picked up his cell, knowing he had to do this, but dreading it terribly. He loved Teresa and desperately wanted things to work out, but he was still terrified, and if he was truthful, still angry with her. It may not have been reasonable or fair, but that didn't seem to matter. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut by someone he should have been able to trust.

With a small groan he hit speed dial, hoping he'd get her voice mail.

"Jane?"

"Hi Teresa."

"How are you?"

At least she didn't sound angry, he thought. No, just terrified and worried and feeling like she'd been betrayed. He hated himself at this moment.

"I'm fine. The Rigsby's found me last night. Thank you."

"What?"

"Thank you. I know you were the one that got them to come. I – appreciate it."

"I'm glad. I was worried you'd be mad at me or them."

"No – it's good to have them here. Uh Teresa – they've asked me to go and stay with them for awhile."

"Grace mentioned that last night. Are you going to go?"

"I – uh – I think so. Are you okay with that?"

She laughed softly, although her voice cracked. "Of course. I think it's a great idea – although I'll miss you."

He swallowed at the sudden soreness in his throat. He had to cough to cover up the fact that he was unable to speak. After a second he cleared his throat. "I'll miss you too. Teresa – I'm sorry, so sorry about all this. I'm trying – I want – but I don't know if I can – I'm just really sorry."

"So am I Patrick. I didn't mean for this to happen – you have to believe me. I would never do this to you on purpose."

He huffed softly. "I know." And the truth was, he did know, but that still didn't seem to stop the anger. "Look, I have to meet the Rigsby's but I wanted to let you know what was happening. I'll be in touch when I get to San Francisco. And Teresa – take care of yourself." He wasn't able to speak – and barely even think – about the baby, but that didn't mean he didn't care.

"I will Patrick. I'm here for you whenever you feel ready and don't ever forget how much I love you."

"I love you too. Goodbye Teresa."

He clicked off his phone and sat on the side of the bed, simply staring at it. It was only the knock on the door that startled him out of his daze. Wayne and Grace must be here to take him home.

"It's good to be home", Grace sighed. It had only been 24 hours, but she had missed the kids. They should be just be up from their naps at this hour and she couldn't wait to see them. She was grateful that their nanny had been able to come over at the last minute and stay the night.

"Thanks Trudy", she said to the older woman who looked after her children.

"No problem at all Grace. The kids were great. Maddy is still asleep and Ben is in his room playing with his cars."

"Mama Grace", Ben ran quickly down the stairs, having heard his parents' voices. "You're back!"

"I am", she swung her stepson around in a circle. "Were you a good boy for Miss Trudy?"

"I was. Maddie cried for you last night but Miss Trudy told us a really good story and she stopped crying. Mommy, did you bring Uncle Patrick with you", he asked, sounding excited.

"She did" Jane answered with a smile. He stepped forward out of the shadow he'd been standing in. "Hello young Mr. Rigsby. How are you today?"

Patrick barely had time to blink before he was being dragged off to Ben's room to see his new truck.

"Don't wear him out Ben", his mother called out to him. "Uncle Patrick is tired."

"Kay", her son called over his shoulder, in reality paying no attention.

"It's okay Grace", Jane smiled down at her from halfway up the stairs. "I have a burning desire to see the new truck."

Over the next few days Patrick forced himself to not think about Teresa or about fatherhood. Instead he spent time puttering around the Rigsby's home mostly playing with the kids or, when they were napping or busy, reading or watching TV.

He knew it was a time out of reality and one that wouldn't last but for now he needed it. He needed to not have to deal with anything heavier than skinned knees and sibling rivalry.

It was ironic that he'd found a way to forget about Lisbon's pregnancy by spending time with two children. But the fact was, he'd always loved kids and what made it bearable was that these weren't his. He could play with them, tease them, make them laugh but bear absolutely no responsibility for their well-being. Wayne and Grace and Trudy had that well under control.

"Tatty!" He felt something pull on his leg and looked down, grinning at the little girl who was pulling herself up using his pant leg as a handle. He reached down and swung her up into his arms, causing her to giggle. "Tatty", she repeated, resting her nose against his.

"You realize that we're going to call you that from now on don't you?" Wayne said with a grin. Maddy was just learning to talk and had somehow turned 'Patrick' into 'Tatty'. Even Ben had started using it.

Jane rolled his eyes. "Not unless you want me to tell everyone about your secret fear."

"What?" Rigsby frowned. "What secret fear?"

"You know", Jane looked at him, his brows raised. "The one you haven't told anyone, even Grace. The one the kids in middle school taunted you about."

"Wait – how do you know about -". His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You don't know anything. You're just guessing."

Jane pursed his lips and gave a short nod. "Maybe – maybe not. Just try calling me 'Tatty' and you'll find out."

"Damn", Wayne muttered, heading out of the kitchen. "I want to know how you always do that."

Patrick grinned and began to play trucks with Ben.

He'd been here almost a week and knew it was time he considered leaving. He'd tried to be an unobtrusive guest and felt that for the most part he had been. Still, Wayne and Grace didn't need someone like him moving in for any length of time.

"I think I'll be heading out tomorrow", he told them after dinner that evening. "It's time I headed back. I'm sure Abbott is about ready to send the sheriff after me."

"You don't have to leave Jane." Grace frowned at him worriedly. "And Abbott's given you a couple of weeks off. You should stay here longer."

"Thank you", he got up and went over to Grace. Kneeling down he reached forward and gave her a hug. "You don't know how much this has meant. But I have to go back sometime and it might as well be now."

"Are you ready?" she asked, still looking perturbed.

He sighed. "I don't know. I don't think I'll ever be ready."

"Jane" she reached and took his hands in hers. Wayne sat silently, just watching, knowing that his wife was much better able to deal with this. "Jane, I can't imagine how hard this must be for you – I don't presume to understand – but I do know that rather than being something terrible, it's actually something good. I know you're frightened, but this child is someone to love – and you're wonderful with children. Maddy and Ben adore you. You could have that with your own child."

He sat tight lipped, still kneeling in front of her. He didn't want to get angry or flippant with her – she had been too good for him but her words had cut deeply. Why did people think it would make everything better if he simply went out and replaced his family? He couldn't seem to make anyone understand that it didn't work that way.

But you found love again, in Teresa, the little voice in his head said insistently. You were willing to accept her into your life, why not a child?

Because Lisbon is strong and capable and doesn't need him to look after her. A child on the other hand, would need him, would trust him and rely on him – and he'd fail that child, just like he had with his own. He could not ever replace Charlotte and he would never put a child in danger by pretending he could protect it.

"Jane." Grace's voice interrupted his thoughts. He shook himself suddenly and took a deep breath, realizing he'd been caught up in his own thoughts.

"Sorry", he apologized. "Look, I know you mean well Grace, but it just doesn't work like that. I can't do this again."

"So you're just going to run off and leave Teresa to deal with it on her own. You're going to take the coward's way out and shrug your shoulders, saying you can't do it? Wow – I had a father who was a criminal and pretty much a bastard, but at least he had enough guts and maybe even enough love to stick around."

Jane could feel a cold wash of anger surge through him. He wanted to stand up and yell at Wayne for his words, but, for many years he'd cultivated the ability to control his emotions so instead he stayed where he was, not looking at the other man.

"Wayne, stop that. It's not helping."

"I don't care", her obstinate husband spoke. "He needs to hear the truth. This isn't about you Jane – not about your fears or your memories or your history. We all understand the horrible tragedy you went through, and we understand how frightening this must be. But that doesn't excuse you from not dealing with it, for not trying. Go talk to someone, go get help. Talk to Teresa or a counselor or another parent who's lost a child – but start dealing with it."

Jane stood slowly at that, his breathing quick and shallow. He needed to leave – this had been a mistake. Suddenly his safe refuge was being torn away and he didn't know what to do. He turned and started towards the door. He'd get his few things – the things he'd purchased – together and go to a hotel. He had outstayed his welcome.

"Just think about one thing Jane", Wayne said gently as he headed out of the kitchen. "You're scared because you don't think you can protect a child – but who's going to protect him or her if you're not there? Do you honestly think that by running away you can prevent bad things from happening? Do you really believe you can forget your child? Ask yourself what scares you more – having a child – or losing another one by walking away from it?"

At that he ran out of the room and upstairs. Grabbing his belongings he threw them in the shopping bag they'd come in and quickly made his way to the front door. Grace was standing there, her face in tears. "Don't go Jane. Wayne shouldn't have said anything. Please, stay. He's sorry for upsetting you and I promise, he won't say anything more. Just stay."

He stopped and took a deep breath. He needed to leave – to get some space – but he didn't want to leave on bad terms with the people who had shown him such love and compassion. With a small, crooked smile he stepped forward and enveloped the younger woman in a hug. "It's okay" he told her. "I'm not mad at Wayne – well, only for punching me. But his words -" he shrugged. "Nothing I didn't deserve."

"Don't go", she murmured into his shoulder. "Please?"

"Thanks Grace – really – but I need to do this. Wayne was right – I need to deal with this and I can't do that here. Thank you – thank you so much for everything. You don't know how much this has meant."

"Maddie and Ben aren't going to be happy."

He chuckled. "Tell Ben that the next time I come I'll bring another new truck for him and give Maddie a kiss from her Uncle Tatty."

Grace laughed, although it still sounded suspiciously watery. "You'll look after yourself? You won't do anything stupid?"

"I've already done my share of 'stupid'", he informed her with a sad smile. "No, I promise. Don't worry, I'll look after myself. I just need a few days to think about things. Being here has been great. It gave me the chance to not think for awhile, which I needed. But now I think I have to figure this out on my own."

"Okay", she hugged him again, "as long as you promise to take care of yourself. Teresa will kill us if we let you go and you get hurt."

"I promise." He gave her a kiss on the cheek and then opened the front door. At that moment Wayne walked out of the kitchen looking a combination of embarrassed and guilty and determined.

"Are you leaving?" he asked calmly.

"I am. But – thank you for what you said. I don't know if I agree, but I know you meant well", Patrick nodded at the other man. "I'll be in touch and don't worry Grace!" he told her sternly. With a final smile and wave he stepped out into the evening air.

"God, what are we going to tell Teresa?" Grace wanted to know.

"That he's taken a step in the right direction", Wayne answered, his eyes staring ahead at the door, even though Jane was gone. "I think – he may be looking for something to help him deal with this."

"You think so?" Grace asked hopefully.

"I do."

By the next day Jane was back in his trailer in Austin, surprised at how good it felt to be home. He didn't tell anyone, needing the space to think about things. He had another week of leave and until he had to go back to work he didn't want anyone distracting him.

He didn't sleep well that first night, and he knew the next few days were going to be stressful. But Wayne had been right, he needed help. And, as much as he hated having to ask, he knew that if he didn't want to lose Teresa, he had to do something.

"Come in", the man stood and walked over to him, his hand out. "I'm Carl, I'm glad you could join us."

"Patrick", he answered shortly, shaking Carl's hand. He then glanced around the small and cozy room and nodded hello to the others. There were eight – ten including Carl and him. There were three couples and two single (at least for the evening) women.

He went and sat in a single chair, as far away from anyone else that he could get and tried to calm himself down. The only thing that made this tollerable was that the others in the room looked to be in a similar state to his: frightened, embarrassed, uncomfortable and wondering what the hell they were doing here. He relaxed slightly. He wasn't odd man out.

"Welcome", Carl said once everyone was settled. The man sounded friendly and sincere and Jane could feel himself relax even more. There was no evidence of any guile. Carl seemed to be pretty much who he appeared to be.

"I'd like to welcome you all here tonight", he continued. "I know this is probably one of the most difficult things you've ever had to do. I promise you that it will help. It's not going to take away your pain, or change what has happened, but it can make you feel not so alone – and like there's a reason to go on."

Jane kept his eyes focused on Carl, suddenly not wanting to even acknowledge that there were others in the room. He was on the verge of standing up and fleeing, but kept telling himself he'd give it one more minute. He tuned back in at that moment, to realize Carl was still speaking.

"The first couple of weeks are difficult", he was telling them. "This is the time each of us tells our story – and the room will feel heavy with everyone's pain. But I promise that things will get better if you stick it out. All I ask is that you listen to one another with compassion and respect and understand that everything said in this room is to stay here. Do not repeat anything you here outside of this space."

Carl watched as everyone signaled in some way their agreement. Once that was done he continued. "I'll start with my story and then we can each take turns."

"My son was eight years old when a drunk driver plowed into him as he stood waiting for the school bus. He died the next day and I knew then that life as I'd known it had ended…."