My apologies for not replying to you amazing wonderful spectacular people who reviewed (I will, I promise). I love you all and am bad at replying - so please forgive me.

Jane and Vega walked onto the floor together. Although she appeared a bit pale, he had a smile on his face and was speaking to her animatedly.

"It's true. Wood ducks can have two broods of ducklings in one year. I don't think our duck is a wood duck, although I'll have to check. It would be interesting if she were though. That way we might see another brood since her babies are ready to leave home.

"I guess it would be", Vega said, not quite sure what to say – or to think. She appreciated the fact that Jane was speaking with her and making it look as if they were on friendly terms. The problem was, she didn't have a clue how to relate to the man. I mean ducks, really?

She avoided looking at most of the employees who were there, afraid to again see their looks of disgust. She did, however, glance over towards Lisbon. The agent had her eyes fixed on Jane, a slight line between her eyes, which showed she was still worried about the consultant. At that moment Teresa's eyes swung to Vega.

Yup – she's mad as hell at me, Vega confirmed. She would have to try and fix this as soon as possible. They couldn't afford to have dissension on their team. Again, she didn't know quite how she was going to fix it, but she'd have to figure it out.

"You went and saw the ducks again", Cho commented as they neared his desk.

"Didn't actually see them", Jane replied. "Mama duck is pretty protective and probably hid them."

"Mmm", Cho murmured. "You okay Vega?"

"What? Oh – yes, just fine. Mr. Jane – uh - Patrick and I went for a walk down by the pond. I didn't know it was there."

"He likes it", Cho nodded. "He's obsessed with ducks."

"I am not", Jane replied with a hurt look. "The babies are cute."

"He also likes babies", the Korean agent told her.

Jane gave a big grin, clearly agreeing with the ever-inscrutable agent. "Who doesn't like babies?"

"They're okay", Kimball shrugged.

"You my friend", Jane continued to grin and headed towards his couch, "are a fraud." He looked over his shoulder and called out – "Cho loves babies."

"Not as much as you do Jane", Cho called back. "Good thing too", he mumbled.

Jane continued to smile as he lowered himself to his couch. He grabbed a file that was sitting there and then laid back, his feet up. "Hey Teresa", he spoke, not looking at her. "You okay?"

"I'm fine Jane", she sighed. "You're late."

"Mmm hmm. Went to see the ducks. They weren't there."

She nodded, knowing darn well what he'd done. It was moments like these that she realized what a good man he was. He often hid it under all sorts of things, but he was kind-hearted, at least to those he saw as vulnerable. She rather suspected that Vega had moved from 'tight-ass' to vulnerable all in one day.

Lisbon was still worried about him, knowing how good he was at hiding things. He still looked more pale than usual and tired, but he seemed reasonably happy, so maybe he wasn't -"

"Stop it Teresa", he said, just loud enough for her to hear. "I'm fine."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. A bit tired so I may doze, but otherwise I'm good."

"Okay – you'll tell -"

" – I'll tell you if I'm not. I promise. Now get to work."

She grunted and glared at her man. There were times she still wanted to slug him.

It was later that week and Teresa was relieved that everyday Patrick seemed a bit better, a bit more relaxed. He hadn't said much, although he had told her he was working on not letting the incident with the card get to him too much.

For the first time ever, he also began to let her know when he wasn't doing so well. It was a huge step in their relationship and she didn't know if she should acknowledge it or not.

It had started a couple of evenings after Vega's card. She'd been tidying up a bit when Jane had suddenly appeared behind her. She squealed in surprise when he reached out and pulled her to him. Thinking that he was teasing, she smiled and started to make a silly comment, when she noticed his face.

His eyes were red and he was pale. He had a pinched look about his face and she instantly knew that something was bothering him. She had immediately asked, of course, but all he'd done was shake his head. The next thing she knew she was being drawn into the bedroom and onto their bed. He snuggled up to her, burying his face in her neck. His arms grasped her tightly and he had one leg thrown over hers.

They lay there like that for a long time. His body was trembling, but he didn't say a word to her and she decided to let it go. It was more important that she just be with him. She didn't think words were what he needed right now.

Instead she began to stroke his head and neck – softly, gently, and rhythmically. She must have been doing it for all of twenty minutes before she could feel him begin to settle down. Whatever it had been, it had been serious and had frightened or worried him.

She loved him so much and wished she could take away his pain. She couldn't, but instead she could be with him and hold him through it. "I love you", she whispered. He clasped her more tightly and then, a couple of seconds later, he kissed her neck.

"You okay?" she asked after another few minutes.

He didn't reply for a while but finally he turned his head. "I think so", he told her. "Having you here – helps. It helps a lot."

"I'm here for you always." She stated simply.

"Yes, you always have been". He lifted himself up until he could see her clearly. "You don't know how much that means – has always meant."

"Yes, I do because you're here for me too."

"I haven't always been", he admitted.

She nodded, knowing that was true. At the beginning he was too focused on Red John to let anything or anyone get in his way. That began to change over the years and he'd proven his loyalty many times over. "When it counted you were", she told him. She pulled him down until he was snuggled up against her again. "What's wrong?"

He sighed and didn't answer for a moment. "Just – things sometimes pop into my brain and it's hard for me to put them away."

She knew he probably would never tell her what those things were although she could guess. She began to stroke his head again. "Does this help you put them away?"

He murmured and nodded. "Yes. It feels good."

"Good." She continued until she could hear that his breathing had evened out and his face had relaxed. He was asleep.

The same thing happened a couple of more times, although he started to apologize to her for 'wasting her time' on him. She always insisted that she loved it when he did this. And it was true. Having him reach out to her when in need, touched her like nothing had ever done. Jane showed his complete trust in her – and his love.

"Just go to sleep", she whispered to the man curled up in her arms.

By the end of the week he seemed much better. In fact he was back to the man he'd been before the infamous card. He still suffered anxiety attacks but for the most part he seemed to be handling things well. He even started to refer to the baby again.

As for Jane, he was not doing quite as well as he let on, but he was getting better. For years he'd hid his grief and his fears, partly because he hated anyone pitying him, and partly because he didn't have anyone to lean on. Over time he'd come to like and trust his team, but he still hadn't felt right about burdening them with his pain.

Not that he hadn't relied on each of them at one time or another – especially Teresa. She'd been there for a number of his crises and emotional break-downs and she'd always handled them with compassion and grace. But it hadn't been the same then. He didn't have the right to burden her, to rely on her. They hadn't been a couple - not like they were now.

He still couldn't and wouldn't burden her with some of the darker thoughts that resided in his mind or some of his nightmares. But just having her there, just being able to hold her, to touch her, to let her care for him was incredible. After Angela had died he didn't have anyone who loved him enough to be there for him. Oh, he had a few of the carny folk who were sympathetic and who would have tried to help him through everything, but they weren't family.

A part of him knew that the reason for his hunt for Red John was that he'd had to have something to fill the terrible hole that had been left by the death of his wife and daughter. If he'd had help and support and love – maybe that hole would have been filled more quickly by something positive. Instead in it had resided anger and revenge.

Well, that was over now. And he did have someone who loved him and who cared about him. He smiled softly. How wonderful it was to again have someone hold him, touch him, stroke him. It made the wounds, the fears bearable.

"Jane?"

"Mmm hmm?" He was propped up in bed reading a book on ducks. She laughed softly and took it out of his hand. "Hey, what did you do that for?"

"I wanted to tell you something", she told him. She snuggled up to him on the bed. She smiled and reached out and gently touched his face.

"What is it?" He frowned slightly. "Is everything okay?"

"It's fine. I just – I wanted to tell you -"

"What Teresa?" He lifted his hands and took hers in them. "Tell me."

"I felt the baby move."

His breath caught and he stared. At first there was a rush of terror, but that was quickly followed by a bolt of – of joy which spread through him, removing all fear from his soul.

"Really?" he breathed. He reached out with his hand and put it over the ever-increasing roundness of her belly. He scooted down in bed until his head was beside her stomach. "Hey little one, are you movin' around in there? Be gentle on your Mommy, okay?" He continued to stroke her, his face looking as if he'd just been given the greatest gift in the world.

Teresa could feel herself crumble. She tried not to let Jane know, but soon her breathing grew erratic with her cries.

"Hey, you okay?" he lifted his head, a frown between his brows. "Teresa?"

"Sorry", she hiccupped. "I'm fine – happy, just happy."

"You're sure?"

"Yes", she smiled and put her hand in his hair. He continued to talk to her belly, so softly she couldn't always hear, but loud enough to know that he was happy too.

Jane continued to go to his evening group class, and was finding it easier every week. They still dealt with sad things, and painful things, but there was now a sense of hope in the room. He remembered what Carl had said, and the facilitator was right. It had gotten better.

He'd made some good friends there and wanted to invite some of them over, but wasn't sure how to ask Teresa. He worried that she'd feel uncomfortable. Still, he'd talk to her about it when he felt the time was right. He felt it was about time he started making some friends other than his co-workers.

As much as the group sessions were getting better, Jane was worried about Andrea. She still made it a point to talk to him alone each week and had even invited him out a few times. Each time he'd reminded her that he was not single and was definitely not interested in going out with her. So far it had only been uncomfortable, but he worried that she was becoming more and more obsessed with him. She didn't seem to have anyone else she could confide in and it worried him.

There were only two more sessions, including this evening's, before the group would be finished. Although he still had things he was dealing with, he couldn't help but admit that the group had done him a lot of good. For one thing, he realized that many of his feelings weren't crazy, but were common to people in his situation.

He'd also tried – seriously – to begin to let go of at least some of the guilt. As one of the parents in the group had said, if you fill your heart with anger and guilt, it's harder to fill it with love, either for your loved one who had died, or for anyone new in your life.

He knew if he was going to make a life with Lisbon and their child, he'd have to begin to move away from the guilt. It was going to be hard, but he was determined to do it – at least enough to let him look forward rather than back.

"So, since it's our second to last week", Carl began, "why don't we just open up the meeting to anything you want to discuss or to tell us."

It was Rachael who spoke first. Jane was a bit surprised as she was usually so shy. Tonight however, she had something she really wanted to share.

"I think Samuel came to see me last night", she said softly. She glanced around, looking as if she expected someone to laugh at her.

Jane didn't speak and didn't plan to. If this had been a couple of months ago, he would have scoffed and told Rachael that she was delusional, that there was no such thing as talking to the dead. He would have explained that it was her imagination, her subconscious wanting her son back. He would have told her that those who thought they could speak with the dead were nothing but charlatans.

But he said none of that. He'd grown to like and respect and to care for the people in this group. And he realized that if Rachael wanted to believe her four year old son had visited her, who was he to destroy her illusion.

"He – told me he was happy", she said. "He told me not to worry or be sad." She sniffed and looked around. "You probably all think I'm crazy", she filled in the silence.

"No", Tamika shook her head. "I don't think you're crazy. I felt Abby with me the other day. I was driving in the car and all of a sudden I knew she was there, right beside me. She told me something similar – that she was okay and I was to stop being sad. She said that one day we'd be together again." She was crying by this time and her husband Joe put his arm around her and held her close.

"Has anyone else seen or heard their child?" Carl asked softly. "It's not uncommon", he told them. "In fact, people often talk about their child visiting them like an angel. For many it's comforting."

The others each spoke of their experiences – some believed they had seen and spoken to their child, others talked about feeling their child with them.

"Jane – do you have any experiences you'd like to share?" What could he do, say he didn't believe in all that malarkey – and hurt and offend his fellow participants. With a sigh he knew what he had to do.

"I dreamt of my daughter", he told the group. "Well, actually I hallucinated her."

He got a few raised eyebrows for that. He went on and gave them an abridged version of events, including how he'd felt when she'd disappeared for good.

"Maybe she wasn't an hallucination", Andrew pointed out. "What if it really was her – appearing to you in a dream."

Jane sighed. "I'm afraid it was the belladonna", he told them. "It's very dangerous and causes almost instant hallucinations. I drank some tea that was laced with it – by mistake."

"What was she like?" someone asked.

He went on to describe his make-believe daughter and soon was caught up in telling them what she'd said and how she'd acted. "She was the way I pictures my daughter would be", he explained at the end. "She wasn't real."

"I don't think you can know that Patrick", Stephanie said gently. "Maybe it really was your daughter who came to see you."

He gave her a sad smile and shrugged. He wasn't about to argue, but he knew Charlotte was dead and that she hadn't shown up to see him. It had been a hallucination, nothing more.

"Patrick talked to Christina", Andrea suddenly blurted out. "He was with her when she died."

"What – no – Andrea!" he said, trying to stop the woman from talking. "It was just a dream."

"Like Stephanie said, how can you know? I think you did see Christina and that you were there. You do – you really do have a gift. You were there, I know you were."

Jane closed his eyes. He didn't want this, hadn't wanted this. "I'm sorry Andrea – but I'm not psychic. I appreciate the fact that so many of you feel like you've seen or heard your child – but I can't believe that. Dead is dead – and that's what my wife and daughter are and nothing any of you can say to me will change that fact." He stood up and headed to the door. "I'm sorry – I don't want to upset you so I'm just going to leave –"

Everyone, including Carl tried to stop him, to convince him to stay. He finally held up his hand. "Look, I appreciate it, I do, really. But I need – I just need to be alone for a while. I'm not angry and I will be back next week. It's just – I can't talk about this. I'm sorry."

At that everyone quieted down. Carl nodded. "If that's what you need Patrick, then we understand. But do please come back next week. You're an important part of the group."

He gave them a small, lopsided smile and then left. He didn't know why he was so upset, but he knew he couldn't be in that room anymore, not with everyone who believed their child was still out there somewhere.

He wished he could believe that. He wanted to believe it. Sadly, he couldn't.

"Patrick!"

He whipped around at the sound of a voice, to see Andrea scurrying after him. Damn – what did she want now. "Andrea, please, I really don't want -"

"You were with her Patrick, you were. Please don't lie to me. I know that for some reason you've denied your gift, but I need to know that my baby wasn't alone when she died. Please, tell me it's true – you were there."

He began to breathe faster, a feeling of panic rising in his chest. What could he say? Could he destroy the one bit of comfort she had? Or could he tell the truth – the truth that had become so important to him since he'd lost Angela and Charlotte. He didn't know what to do.

"Please", she cried, grabbing on frantically to his arm. "Please tell me you were there?"

"I – I was there", he agreed. "I saw her. I was with her and comforted her. She wasn't afraid Andrea. She knew she was going to be safe." The words were ripped from him, but he hated himself, hated what he was doing. He'd promised – he'd promised Angela that never again would he lie and here he was doing it.

"Thank you", she breathed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh thank you. I knew it – I knew you were with her." She moved closer and put her arms around his neck. "Thank you", she repeated. Without warning she moved closer and put her lips on his.

He tried to back away, horrified at what was happening. "Andrea", he pleaded. He grabbed her arms and attempted to pull them off but she clung even harder. "Please don't do this", he begged.

"No – you're mine Patrick. You and me – we know what it is to lose our girls. We need to stay together. And – and you can talk to her. You can talk to Christina and tell her I love her. Please, we need to be together."

He finally managed to get her arms from around his neck and then he scurried back, as far away from her as he could get. "Andrea, listen to me. I cannot talk to Christina. That was the only time – and it was in a dream. And I cannot be with you. I have a girlfriend – a woman I love very much and she is the mother of my child. You understand that, don't you?"

She was crying in earnest now and kept trying to reach him. He knew the situation was serious but didn't know what to do. Finally he reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone. Hating to do it, but knowing he had little choice, he dialed 911.

He closed the door quietly, and stood there for a moment. It wasn't until he heard Teresa say his name that he moved.

"Oh my God – Jane, what is it?" Teresa had been in her usual spot reading but she stood up and rushed over to him. Putting her arms around him she guided him to the couch. "What is it?" she asked again.

He leaned his head forward until it was resting on her shoulder and sighed, knowing that he was safe. "Andrea", he said softly.

"Andrea? What happened?"

He told her all that had occurred, finding release in being able to share it with someone. He felt so guilty, first for lying to Andrea, and then not being able to help her. He knew that she was going through a breakdown – he'd been there – but he was not the one to help her. And that made him feel sad.

"What happened to her", Teresa asked softly, her arm still around him.

He sighed. "By the time the ambulance arrived she was practically catatonic", he told her. "They put her on a gurney and took her to the hospital. One of the couples from the group went with her and said they'd stay until they could find family to be with her. Teresa – I felt – I felt so awful. I wanted to help her but I couldn't and – and I lied to her."

"Jane – you did the right thing to tell her you were with her daughter. Don't ever doubt that. She needed that comfort and you did the kind and decent thing. It doesn't matter if you don't believe it was real – what is important is that she believes it. And you haven't hurt anyone by telling her that."

He knew – logically – that what she said was true but he also knew it would take longer to convince his heart of that fact. He let out a deep breath. "They're going to commit her", he said suddenly. "They're going to lock her up in a room and pump her full of drugs."

She knew Patrick was remembering his own time under the care of a psychiatrist when he'd had his own breakdown. All she could do was hold him closer, knowing that it was a painful memory for him.

After a while he took a deep breath and pulled slightly away. He gave her a smile then – and although it was a bit shaky, at least he was looking better. "Sorry – you must be getting tired of me and all my breakdowns."

"Are you kidding?" she smiled and kissed him. "I get to hold you and comfort you – it makes me feel wanted."

"Wanted? God Teresa – you are so wanted and needed. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Get into lots of trouble, I'm sure!"

He laughed and suddenly everything seemed lighter. "It's probably good that she's in hospital", he spoke abruptly. "This way she can get help."

"Did it help you?" Teresa asked softly. She'd never mentioned it before, never asked him about that time and wondered if she should have let it go. But she wanted to know about his life – about what he'd been through – and then let it go.

He sighed. "It did", he told her. "I was – I don't think I would have survived otherwise. Sophie – she helped me regain my sanity, and my will to survive." He then looked down at Teresa and smiled. "But you're the one who helped me want to live."

That, of course, deserved a kiss. They spent the rest of the evening relaxing and trying to keep their minds off of Andrea and what had happened. By the time they went to bed, Jane was feeling much better. He still felt badly for what Andrea was going through, but hoped she would get the help she needed. As for him? Well, he just wanted to sleep - Teresa held in his arms.