Life went on. After the drama of the last few weeks Lisbon was glad to return to a more calm and peaceful existence – at least as calm and peaceful as life with Jane could ever be.

He seemed much more grounded, much happier - at least as far as their relationship was concerned. She was confident that he was moving past some of his previous issues and was beginning to believe that he deserved some happiness in life.

Of course the topic of her pregnancy didn't come up to spoil his hard-won peace. She knew that in many ways he was living in avoidance, but she really couldn't blame him. He'd been honest about it and she was sure he really was trying.

At least she hoped he was. She had seen no outward sign of it but she knew that didn't necessarily mean anything. Jane was a man who could hold things pretty close to his chest when he wanted. The other possibility was that he was just drifting. Unfortunately she really couldn't ask him.

Her pregnancy didn't show as yet, which made it possible for him to continue to ignore the issue. She did experience a bit of morning sickness, and she knew he noticed. He didn't say anything but he began to bring her a lightly buttered piece of toast and ginger tea in the morning before she got up. They both helped, and she was grateful, although she didn't say anything other than 'thank you'.

As the weeks progressed she began to notice other little things. He was gentler during sex, although still passionate. He was more insistent that she eat properly and get enough rest and gave her a rough time if he thought she was working too hard.

He still didn't speak about the baby or even acknowledge the pregnancy – at least not in words – but his actions warmed her. They showed he cared, even though he couldn't talk about it. She just prayed that there would come a time when he could talk about it, otherwise their relationship was bound to be affected.

She sat thinking about all these things as they drove home from work. Now that everyone knew they were a couple they no longer had to pretend or to arrive separately. Jane was quiet and she wondered if something was bothering him. As far as she knew nothing was wrong, but he appeared tense. She glanced over at him a couple of times before speaking.

"So, I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to relaxing this evening. Let's just order in and then watch TV."

"Hmm?" he answered, sounding distracted.

"I said let's relax tonight. I want to just curl up with you and not think about work or anything."

"Uh -"

"What?" she frowned. She had been right. Something was off.

"I have to go out", he told her. He glanced at her again, clearly uncomfortable.

"Oh." When he didn't say anything more she gave a tiny shrug. "Do you have time for dinner?"

"Yeah."

He didn't say anything more, although he continued to look distracted. She tried to imagine what was going on – where he could be going, but she didn't have a clue. In past years she would have been sure it was something to do with Red John, but now, as far as she knew, there was nothing he was involved in.

They got home and Jane immediately went into the bedroom and changed. She had to laugh at that. He'd fallen in love with comfortable clothes and no longer spent all his time in suits. She had to admit that she loved the more casual man.

She followed him into the bedroom and kicked off her shoes. She was exhausted and flopped down on the bed. The extreme tiredness of early pregnancy was starting to wear off, but she still was more tired than normal.

"Are you okay?" he came out of the bathroom, a worried note in his voice.

"Mmm. I'm fine. Just tired."

"You have to take it easier Teresa", he said sternly. "You're working too hard."

"I'm working like I've always worked Patrick."

"Yes, but you weren't – it's different now. Please look after yourself."

She nodded her head, her eyes filling with tears. That's the closest he'd come to even acknowledging her pregnancy and even that little bit sent her into tears. Damn! This situation was awful.

She tried to wipe away the moisture before he noticed, but of course that didn't happen. She heard him sigh and then felt the bed dip as he sat down. "Come here", he said softly.

With a cry she practically flung herself at him. The next thing she knew she was crying all over his shoulder. She didn't know why – it was ridiculous really. She was tougher than this and there was no reason to be upset.

He held her and gently rocked her. "It's okay Teresa, it's okay." Of course that just made her cry harder.

Jane sat holding her, knowing exactly what had set her off. God, how could he do this to her? She was pregnant with his child and he couldn't even talk to her about it. He could instantly feel the knot of fear bunch up in his gut. He knew, that for her sake, he had to say something. He kissed her gently on the side of the head. "Teresa."

After a moment he sighed and resettled her on his lap. "Teresa, come on, look at me." There were a few sniffs, and he got the vague impression she might have wiped her face on his shirt. He laughed. That's what true love was all about.

"Teresa." The third time was the charm and with a final sniff she lifted her head.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I'm just being silly."

"No you're not", he sighed. "You're tired, you're pregnant and you have to deal with a selfish ass of a man. I'm sorry – I really don't mean to put you through this."

"You aren't putting me through anything", she cried. "You were totally honest with me and I understand. I'm just – it's that I'm tired, that's all."

"Yes, well you shouldn't have to understand. Look, I want to tell you something and hopefully it will make you feel a bit better."

"What?" she rearranged herself so that she was looking directly at him. "What is it?"

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He'd been thinking for days about telling her, but hadn't yet found the courage. He didn't know why he felt so embarrassed, so humiliated by the whole thing. There was nothing at all wrong about going to a support group. In fact, he knew she'd approve. Whatever it was, though, he felt a terrible need to keep it a secret.

"Jane – it's okay. You don't have to tell me if you don't want me to know."

He let out a loud breath at that. "You are way too good to me Teresa. And yes, I have to tell you because you deserve to know."

"Okay", she reached over and took his hand, clasping it tightly. "Then tell me."

"After – no – before I left the Rigsby's house Wayne said something to me that I realized was the truth. He told me I needed to do something about the way I felt, that I wasn't being fair to you or to the child."

"Wayne said that?"

"Mmm hmm. He also hit me", he told her, sounding like he still didn't believe it."

She gurgled. "I know, Grace told me."

"And I'm sure you enjoyed the fact."

"We- ell – I was a bit angry."

He snorted. "Right. Well anyway, after I got back I started thinking about what he said so I – did something."

"What was it?"

"I called – a number – it was for an organization called -"

"Jane!"

"Sorry", he sighed. "Bereaved Parents. It's a support group for parents who have lost a child."

Lisbon was silent, staring at the man on whose lap she was still sitting. She swallowed. "Really?"

"Yes." He shrugged uncomfortably. "I thought maybe – it might – help."

"Did you go?"

He nodded. "I've been twice. I swore I wouldn't go back after the first week but I ended up going again. There's another session tonight."

"And that's where you're going?"

He nodded again, biting his lower lip and watching her closely. The next thing he knew it was her lips against his – but kissing him wildly.

A few minutes later a slightly dazed Jane sat back. "So I guess – you're okay with it?"

She laughed and rested her head on his chest. "Did I tell you I love you?"

"Mmm, but not enough – never enough."

"Well I do, I love you. Thank you Patrick."

He felt slightly uncomfortable but then nodded. He needed to say something to her and he didn't know how she'd take it. "It's – hard", he said of the group, "but helpful. The people there understand."

She watched him, barely blinking. "That's good. Are they – counselors?"

"No, they're parents. Everyone there has lost a child. You see they know what I'm feeling and that helps. It's like – I don't have to say anything and they know – and because of that I can say things."

"I'm so glad Patrick. You've needed this."

"Maybe. Sometimes I think I'm just dredging up stuff I should let go."

"How can you let it go when it's still festering beneath the surface? At least this way you can bring it into the open and then let it go."

"My little philosopher", he chuckled, kissing her on the nose. After a second he frowned. "Lisbon", he said, seeming to forget that he rarely used that name anymore outside of work, "I need to ask you a favor."

"Of course. Anything."

"I need you to accept that I may not be able to tell you what goes on there. It's not that I don't trust you because I do. It's just – you may not be able to understand some of it. I don't mean to belittle you in any way it's just -"

"You had to experience it to truly understand?"

He nodded. "Forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive. Just please – if you don't want to tell me things because you need to keep them to yourself – that's fine, just promise me that you won't do it to try and protect me. You said yourself I'm strong and I've already seen the worst that people can do. I doubt there's anything you could say that would horrify me."

He leaned forward and kissed her nose. "My tough lady."

"You promise?"

"Okay fine", he sighed. After a few more minutes spent holding each other Patrick moved. "I think we better get something to eat", he finally told her. "I'm hungry and I have to leave in forty-five minutes."

The session was easier that evening. Someone actually laughed out loud and Carl said that was a good thing. "Laughter is not bad", he told them. "It doesn't mean you're forgetting your child, it just means you're alive."

Part of the way through the evening, shortly after he'd shared a story about Charlotte, he began to get a strange feeling. He didn't know quite what it was, although it felt vaguely familiar. He glanced around to see if anyone else seemed to notice, but no one seemed at all bothered.

He flexed his fingers, took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. If anything that made whatever it was worse. It reminded him of those little gnats that fly by your ear, making a high whining sound. You couldn't see them or catch them but they drove you crazy.

He noticed a few minutes later that Andrea was looking at him closely. He didn't quite know what to make of the woman. She appeared to have some kind of obsession about him because he always caught her looking at him. He felt a shiver run down his spine and turned back to the conversation.

After the meeting Andrea approached him. He felt like stepping back but didn't want to hurt her feelings. She had done nothing wrong. "Andrea", he said, giving a nod. "How are you doing this evening?"

"Better – which surprises me actually" she told him. "There is something about these sessions that– cheers me up."

"Mmm hmm", he agreed, wanting to edge to the door.

"Patrick", she cried as he moved away from her. "Please, can I ask you something?"

"Of course." His 'trouble is brewing' radar was on full alert. "What is it?"

"You – you work for the FBI?"

"I'm a consultant." He tried to remember if he'd mentioned it but knew he hadn't. She must have looked him up somewhere.

"Well – I was wondering if you could help." Before he had a chance to say anything she rushed on. "I told you – everyone – that they hadn't caught the man that hurt and killed my daughter."

He nodded, suddenly knowing what was coming. He closed his eyes briefly, really not wanting to take this on.

"The police looked into it but couldn't find any proof. Could you – would you see if there's anything you can do. You understand, more than anyone, what it means to bring the person who did this to justice. Please."

"Andrea – yes, I understand. I also understand that it might be better to let it go. I spent ten years of my life searching for a killer. You don't want to do that." He wanted to laugh at himself for giving her the advice that so many had tried to give him over the years. It hadn't worked for him, he was sure it wouldn't work for her.

"If I need to spend ten year, twenty year, I will. Patrick, how can I possibly live knowing he's still out there, probably hurting other girls? Please, just – look into it?"

Jane wanted to refuse, but there was something that was pushing him, something beyond Andrea. It frightened him and made him uncomfortable in a way he hadn't felt in a long, long time. He refused to put a name to it, to acknowledge it, but it was there and for some reason he knew he wouldn't be able to ignore it.

He breathed in deeply and then let it out. "Okay. I'll see what I find, but I can't promise anything."

"That's fine and thank you." She reached over and put her hand on his. He wanted to jerk it away, feeling disturbed when she touched him. "Here", she said, finally pulling her hand back and reaching into her purse, "here's my number. Call me if you find anything."

He reluctantly took the card, only glancing at it briefly. Andrea Scott. "Thank you. I will."

"Maybe one night – after the group – we could go and get coffee", she said softly. "I think we have a lot in common."

His eyes closed briefly. He had to stop this now. "Uh, I don't think that would be a good idea", he told her gently. He gave her a kind smile. "I'm afraid my girlfriend wouldn't like it and she's a pretty tough FBI agent."

He could see her face fall but she recovered quickly. "I just meant to talk about the case, but I understand. Thank you for doing this."

He nodded and gave her a smile. "'til next week then."

As he drove home, again tired from the emotions of the evening, he wondered what the hell he'd gotten into. It was pretty obvious that Andrea was interested in him. He hoped he'd nipped that in the bud, although he suspected she might continue to try – subtly. What worried him even more was the strange feeling he got every time he went to the weekly session.

He was pretty sure it didn't have anything to do with the group itself. It was something different. He shook himself slightly. He was imagining things. There were a lot of emotions in that room. That was all he was feeling.

He refused to think about it anymore and instead set his mind on the woman waiting for him at home and smiled. Teresa. Now there was a woman to keep him grounded.

It was only as he pulled into the driveway that he realized he had thought of this as home. It was the first time in twelve years that he'd had a home. He smiled. It was about time to make this official, he decided. He was finally ready.

With a light step he walked up to his front door and opened it. "Honey, I'm home!"