Disclaimer: Okay, some of this has got to be mine, right? After 300,000 words, I should at least get the kids. And the dog. No? Geez. Well, I'm not making any money off this anyway.

Author's Note: This idea has been in my head since I finished Second Hand, but I haven't been able to get to it until now. I hope some of you have read the previous stories and still remember a little, but I'll fill in the blanks if you're new to this universe, which went off canon in early season 5. You could almost read this as canon at this point, except the CBI is still going strong under Hightower and Rigsby and Van Pelt's first child together was a boy named Joshua. Oh, and my version of the Red John takedown involved a lot of Visualize, and he turned out to be someone other than McAllister. He's still dead, though. :)

And for those of you reading Letters to Teresa, there will be more, but probably not immediately. Right now my muse is being pretty tight lipped about the next occasion.

Patrick Jane took a moment to close his eyes and breathe deeply, savoring the fresh country air, the wind rustling the trees, and the sun on his face. This was the life, he thought. No job to worry about, a pleasant meadow to roam, and a silence broken only by birdsong, the sniffing of the dog at his side, and the pony grazing nearby. His children were safely at their expensive private school, and his lovely wife had promised to be home early to celebrate their anniversary.

Eighteen years. He could hardly believe it. Where had the time gone? It seemed only a little while ago that he'd been standing on a beach with Teresa Lisbon, exchanging vows while their friends stood around them, on the watch in case a serial killer tried to crash the party. Or huddling with her in the bathroom of a Visualize mental facility, relieved to have found her safe, as she whispered the news that he was going to be a father again. Or admiring their first Christmas tree as a married couple and timing the contractions she wouldn't admit were real.

Their marriage had been a roller coaster ride, that was for sure. Red John had loomed over it at the beginning, and then they'd focused on the twins. But Victoria and Liam were in their senior year of high school already; before long, they'd be off to college. Then it would be just him and Teresa.

Well, him, Teresa, sixty acres, and an assortment of farm animals. They'd moved here ten years ago when Victoria got seriously into horses. She'd grown into a dedicated equestrian, competing in dressage and then show jumping, and Jane had encouraged her every step of the way. As long as his beautiful, vivacious daughter was spending every spare moment in the saddle, she wasn't hanging out with boys. He wasn't sure she was ready for serious dating, but he was very sure he wasn't.

Her brother, at least, showed no interest in girls. Well, that wasn't true; he showed plenty of interest. He was just an introvert with high standards, so he'd never made a move to ask out any of the girls he smiled at. Liam seemed content for now to spend his free time on his art and music, amazing his parents with his creativity and talent.

Belle, the little beagle/dachshund mix they'd gotten when the kids were little, bumped companionably against his leg, and Jane leaned down to pet her. Despite her greying muzzle, she was still eager to accompany him on his walks. "We still have a few good years left in us, don't we, Belle?" he murmured, scratching her ears.

She looked up at him adoringly, and he smiled. Since his retirement as a consultant for the FBI two months ago, the dog had been his constant companion. He'd rather have Teresa, of course, but so far he'd been unsuccessful in persuading her to take early retirement.

Suddenly Belle's ears lifted, and she turned to look at the long driveway. Patrick heard the car engine a moment later, and his heart leapt eagerly. "Come on, old girl," he urged, striding back toward the house.

Blueberry, the now elderly pony Victoria had learned to ride on, gave a snort and followed, hoping there might be a treat in store. But Patrick was focused on the driveway, watching the bend where the car would become visible. He grinned as Teresa's vintage Mustang came into view. She was even earlier than he'd dared hope!

He jogged the rest of the way to the house, but by the time he got there Teresa had already put down her briefcase, taken off her jacket and shoes, and gone into the kitchen. She smiled as he came in the back door, and he was struck all over again by her gentle beauty. Age had touched her only lightly, and since she was still working she hid her grey hair with dye. It was easy to forget how much time had passed since they'd met.

He knew his face showed it, though. His beard had come in partly grey, and there were deep laugh lines hidden beneath it, to match the crinkles around his eyes. He considered them evidence of a life well lived these past eighteen years, with no trace of the slick showman he used to be.

"You're home early." Patrick greeted her with a kiss.

"Surprise," she chuckled. It wasn't often he was truly surprised, and she enjoyed pulling it off when she could. "We only get one eighteenth anniversary. I figured we should spend most of it together. Have you had lunch?"

"Not yet." He was delighted at the thought of having lunch with her. Even when they'd both worked in the same building at the FBI, their schedules had rarely permitted it. "What did you have in mind?"

She grinned, opened her briefcase, and released the smell of Coronado's meatball subs into the room. Patrick was salivating by the time she handed him the bag. "Happy anniversary," she said. "I grabbed a couple of beers too; they're in the fridge."

Patrick felt a tendril of concern weave itself into his joy. "Are we celebrating, or are you softening me up for something?" he half joked.

Even after all these years, she was still translucent to him. He read the flicker of chagrin on her face as easily as a neon sign, and she knew there was no use lying. "Both. I wanted to celebrate first, but I guess now we should talk first."

"We can talk while we eat," he said much more calmly than he felt, getting the beers from the fridge.

As they settled at the kitchen table, he tried to read what to expect. She was a little anxious, but there was no guilt, so she wanted to make a proposal, not ask forgiveness. His concern faded into curiosity. "Just like old times," he remarked as she tore into her sub.

There was that flicker again. "Yeah."

"But you want to talk about the future, not the past," he guessed.

She gave him the look she always did when he pretended to read her mind. "Yes. We've kind of discussed how things are changing, since the kids will be off to college this fall. But we haven't seriously talked about downsizing."

The farm had been a concession for her, he knew. She would always be a city girl at heart, and she'd hinted before that once their nest was empty, she'd like it to be in a smaller place closer to work. He'd had more than a decade to enjoy his little patch of nature; it was only fair to move back into her comfort zone once it was just the two of them. "No, we haven't. And I don't object, but the kids might."

She nodded, chewing. After she swallowed, she said, "You know I've turned down more than one promotion to stay at the Sacramento office."

Ah. He winced a little as he realized where this was going. "Yes. And I have a feeling you have an offer you'd like to take."

"The twins are almost out of school, and you're retired. It seems like now or never. And this position is one I'm really interested in."

She'd spent the last twelve years in a supervisory agent position, not because it was what she wanted, but because it was the best thing for her family. He knew she'd chafed at it sometimes, but he couldn't keep the dread out of his voice as he asked, "You won't go back into the field, will you?"

Teresa snorted. "At my age? Not likely."

"So where would you like us to move?"

She bit her lip. "Washington, DC."

The other side of the country? Patrick swallowed a protest. Victoria was considering Emory and Henry College in Virginia for its equestrian program, so at least she'd be close if she chose it. And maybe Liam would decide to go to Juilliard after all if his family was out east. "That's...quite a change."

"I know. But we wouldn't be without friends. Cho was transferred there last year."

Patrick wondered if Hightower had forgiven him yet for the exodus of her best team. He'd been the first to jump to the FBI, which was entirely her fault since she'd punished Teresa for his actions at the CBI. Teresa had followed shortly afterward. Cho had held out the longest, leaving only four years earlier. Once Rigsby had followed Grace to San Francisco, Patrick thought Cho had found the CBI less fun. "That's a point in the pro column."

"I'd be reporting to an Assistant Director, heading up a new unit," she said, encouraged by his reaction. "It would be really interesting work. Right up your alley, actually."

"Oh, no you don't. I'm retired. You're supposed to be thinking about when you'll join me, not trying to drag me back in."

Teresa gave him an exasperated look. "How long exactly do you think you can wander around the property talking to the dog and stay sharp? Hm? You need something to do, Patrick."

"I'm thinking of taking up painting. Or photography. Possibly both," he protested. "Anyway, I assume this new assignment starts sooner than September, so it looks like I'll be busy single parenting and arranging our move while you work out of an apartment across the country for the next seven months."

The more he thought about it, the more annoyed he became. Preparing their children for college was something they should do together. He supported her right to focus on her career again, but he wished she could wait until the dorm rooms were furnished and good-byes said.

"It's in the early stages. I wouldn't need to move until I've put my team together. Of course I'm not going to miss taking Liam and Victoria to school," she assured him, sounding a little indignant at the end. Then she softened her tone. "We don't need to sell this place if you don't want to. We can rent in DC. I probably won't work more than five more years. Eight maybe. Ten, max."

"This is a little high maintenance for a retired couple," he admitted. "But it would be a nice place for the holidays, at least for the next few years."

"We have time to think it through. If we decide to do it, we'll want to break it to the kids gently." She took another bite, her eyes anxious.

His disgruntlement vanished as he remembered how hard it was for her to put her own wishes above her family's. "Yes. But don't worry, love. You made it possible for them to grow up in just one city, unlike a lot of families. They'll be grateful for that." And if they weren't, he'd remind them of his nomadic childhood.

Teresa smiled at him. "And now that I've gotten that out of the way, let's celebrate our anniversary."

She reached across the table, and they linked hands for a moment.

"Eat up," Patrick grinned. "We only have three hours to ourselves. And I for one would like a cuddle and a nap."

She raised her eyebrow. "My expectations are considerably higher than that, Paddy."

"So demanding," he chuckled.

mmm

They just barely got themselves up and dressed again before the twins' car pulled into the driveway. Victoria and Liam shared a car because Teresa said it would be a waste to drive two vehicles to the same place every day, though Patrick suspected she really hoped they'd keep each other from doing anything stupid. So far, so good.

But it was only Victoria who breezed into the kitchen where Patrick was beginning anniversary dinner preparations. She was beaming and carrying a vase full of pink rosebuds. "Look!"

Patrick raised his eyebrows. "For me? Thank you, princess!"

She rolled her eyes. "No, Dad. For me! It's Valentine's Day."

"And who are they from?" he asked.

"Brett," she said in a tone that implied she was humoring his idiocy. At least "duh" had gone out of vogue several years earlier.

"Ah." Patrick searched his memory of her class roster. Brett Mason was a little older than her, but that was because the twins would graduate at seventeen instead of eighteen. He seemed like a clean cut kid from a prosperous family, but nearly everyone at the academy was. Patrick just hadn't realized he was any more special than any of the other boys. "What did you get him?"

Victoria tossed her golden curls and gave him a saucy look. "Just a kiss."

Teresa came into the room just in time; Patrick had never been so glad for one of her rescues when there weren't guns involved. "Those are beautiful, sweetie. Where's Liam?"

"Oh, he's jamming with some of his friends. He said he'd get a ride home."

Patrick grimaced a little, but he confined his commentary to a glance at Teresa. He didn't like not knowing where his family was at all times, but his wife had strong views on not smothering their children. They had to learn to be independent adults, preferably before going off to college where opportunities for trouble abounded, she often reminded him.

Victoria set the vase down on the counter. "Brett's taking me to dinner next Saturday."

Patrick opened his mouth, but Teresa beat him to the objection. "Not before we've met him, he's not."

Victoria rolled her eyes again. "Yes, mom, I know. That's why he's coming for lunch tomorrow."

"A little more notice would have been nice," Teresa said.

"It's Saturday, so you're not working, and I know you don't have any plans since there's nothing on the calendar. I made a note on it when I invited him. Haven't you checked it today?"

Teresa pulled out her smartphone and consulted the calendar. "Not for a while. But yes, I see it here. You think we'll need three hours?"

"How long does an interrogation normally take?" Victoria asked in her best fake-innocent tone.

"Not long if the subject is innocent," Teresa retorted.

"Just be sure this boyfriend of yours knows your parents were both in law enforcement," Patrick said, only half joking.

"Oh please." Victoria gave him a look she'd gotten from her mother. "As if you ever killed anybody."

Patrick opened his mouth and then stopped, flummoxed. Winning the argument meant altering his daughter's image of him, for the worse, forever. Did he really want to go there?

He glanced at Teresa, who was frozen between a scoff and horrified realization. She quickly turned to the refrigerator in search of a drink, but not before Victoria deciphered her expression. She rounded on her father with wide eyes. "You did? Really? Who?"

"Well," Patrick said, stalling for time while his mind raced, "not as many as your mother, of course."

"More than one?" Victoria demanded.

Crap. He'd gotten rusty since retiring, and he'd taught his daughter too well. "Yes."

"How many?"

It had been a long time, but he knew the number, of course. "Three. They were all very bad men, though. Criminals."

"Tell me." He hadn't seen that look of wide-eyed interest from her in at least ten years.

"Well, the first one was pointing a gun at your mother. I was so terrified I couldn't think. I just grabbed a rifle out of the car I was standing next to and shot him. He died a minute later."

"Wow."

So that's what it took to impress a teenager, Patrick thought wryly.

Teresa had turned back around and was listening intently. "You never told me you were scared. You made out like you had some clever plan."

It was Patrick's turn to roll his eyes. "How was killing my best lead a clever plan? If I'd been clever, I'd've shot him in the knee so he could still talk. Or distracted him so you could draw your gun. Of course I was scared, Teresa." He remembered that vividly. "You were the only person left on this earth who gave a damn about me. If he'd killed you, I...I don't know what I would have done."

Patrick took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. Remembering the broken man he'd been and his breathless terror at seeing her threatened brought back feelings he'd long forgotten.

Teresa took the three steps to him and put her arms around him. "I don't think I ever thanked you for saving my life," she murmured as he rested his head on her shoulder, breathing in her comforting scent.

They were silent for a few seconds. Then Victoria demanded, "What about the other two?"

Patrick raised his head. "Well, the next one convinced me he was Red John. I shot him in a mall food court."

Victoria's jaw dropped. "How are you not in jail?"

Teresa cut off his next words. "Luck," she said firmly. "We proved the guy was a crook, though it turned out he wasn't Red John. And your father learned a valuable lesson about the dangers of vigilante justice."

She was probably right not to give their headstrong daughter any ideas about talking her way out of felonies, Patrick reflected. Or taking the law into her own hands. He nodded meekly.

"And the third one was Red John?" Victoria guessed.

"Yes. Self defense," Patrick said. He'd talked generally about it over the years as the children asked questions, but he'd glossed over the details. "That scar on my stomach? That was the last thing he did."

Victoria had his self-absorption; Liam, more like his mother, would have asked more questions. But she was focused on her own concerns, for which he was grateful. "Well, there's no need to threaten Brett. He's not a criminal. And he's very smart."

That piqued Patrick's interest. His children were at the top of their class, rarely finding much academic competition aside from each other. "Oh? Challenging you for valedictorian, is he?"

"No," she said firmly. "There are other kinds of smart than school smart."

"Very true," Patrick agreed. "Well, I look forward to meeting this paragon."

"Me too," Teresa said. "Text your brother and remind him it's our anniversary, please. I don't want him to lose track of time."

Victoria smirked. "You know he will. Once he starts playing his guitar, he forgets everything."

"Obsessive focus runs in the family," Teresa agreed, giving Patrick a look that let him know which of them she thought responsible for that trait.

Victoria texted her brother, then pocketed her phone. "I'm going for a ride up at the training center. I'll pick him up on my way home."

"Thank you," Patrick called after her as she left.

When she was gone, he turned to Teresa to find her looking at him as if he were still her consultant plotting something of which she could not approve. "What?" he asked.

"She's seventeen," Teresa said firmly. "She's going to date. She's going to do things you don't like and hang out with people you don't like. She's going to be her own person and make her own mistakes. And you are going to let her."

Patrick sighed. "I can't disagree."

"I know it's not easy." Her tone softened. "You're such a good father, Patrick. You've done an amazing job of protecting them and loving them. It means so much to me that they haven't had to grow up too fast, like we both did." She took his hand. "But they do have to grow up."

He kissed her, but as he drew back he yielded to the temptation to tease her. "No, they don't. They can live at home and take care of us when we get old. It happens all the time."

She snorted. "I want more for them. I want them to go out in the world and use their talents to make it a better place. And so do you."

"I do," he admitted. "I just don't want them to get hurt."

"I know. Neither do I." She smiled. "Which is why while you're fixing dinner, I'm going to fire up my laptop and run a quick background check on Brett Mason."

"I love you," Patrick smiled, kissing her soundly.

"And I love you. Even when you're being an anxious, overprotective goofball." She grinned over her shoulder at him as she left.

mmm

When the twins got home three hours later, Patrick was just putting dinner on the table, so they had to scramble to get washed up. Teresa had put in some work besides the background check, he knew, but he wasn't going to complain. He had all his family here, safe and happy, and that was all he ever wanted. He looked around the table at them, beaming, as they passed dishes and heaped food on their plates.

Teresa noticed and smiled back. He wondered if she was ever struck breathless with amazement that they'd come so far, like he was.

"Are you going to make a speech?" she teased.

"Don't tempt me," he grinned.

Liam swept his dark bangs out of his eyes and smirked at his father. "We've heard it all before. In fact, I bet I could recite it."

"Why don't you put it to music?" Patrick suggested, partly serious.

"That'd be the sappiest love song of all time," he groaned.

Victoria said, "Put in the killing people part and make it a ballad."

"Nobody'd believe it," Liam said.

Ah, Patrick thought. He'd obviously been a topic of conversation on the drive home. He hoped Victoria hadn't put her own dramatic spin on it. "I am a little improbable," he joked. Then he sobered. "But I'll always be honest with you about my mistakes, if you ask. If I can't be a good role model, I can at least be a cautionary tale."

Liam thought about it. "When I bring a girlfriend home, tell her that story."

Patrick frowned. "You want me to threaten your girlfriend?"

"No." Liam finished chewing and swallowed. "She'll think it's cool I was raised by a man who protects his family at any cost. You know, romantic."

Patrick smirked at Teresa, who hadn't seen any of his gunplay as romantic. "I think you might want to ask your mom about that."

"Visiting you in jail was hardly romantic," she agreed. "And as I recall, your shooting Hardy landed me in mandatory therapy, which the therapist used to frame me for murder."

"And you were unconscious and hospitalized after Red John, so I didn't get any credit for that either."

"I was too busy worrying you'd get arrested again," she replied.

"You guys are so weird," Victoria said. "Can you please try to be normal while Brett's here?"

Teresa winked at him, and he grinned. "Well," he said thoughtfully, "we can try."

mmm

A few hours later, Patrick was reading in bed waiting for Teresa to finish up in the bathroom when he noticed her cell phone dinging. He hoped there wasn't some emergency behind the sudden flurry of emails, but ignored it until a call came through. Then he reached over to see who it was.

"Hey, Grace," he said. Teresa would skin him for answering a work call, but this had to be personal, since the two agents worked in completely separate areas.

"Hi Jane," she replied, sounding only a little surprised. "How's retirement?"

"I highly recommend it."

"I wish. All those savings bonds you bought for Ben helped with his college, but Josh and Emma need me to keep working," she chuckled.

"Just let me know when you need me to hit a casino for you. The offer's always open."

"Thanks. Is Lisbon around?"

"In the bathroom. Can I take a message?"

"Yeah. She asked for my help tracking down some information, and I got it for her." Grace paused. "You guys looking into Visualize again?"

"Not that I know of. Why?"

"Well, one of the names she gave me popped up in an old case. There was a connection."

Jane frowned. Without Bret Stiles, he might not have found Teresa. But on the other hand, Stiles had protected Red John and his followers, allowing them to kidnap her using Visualize resources. On balance, Jane had decided to keep Stiles away from his family, and he hadn't seen him since he'd come to the CBI to congratulate him and Teresa on their pregnancy and successful escape. He'd died over twelve years ago, and thus far his promises to resurrect himself had gone unfulfilled.

Grace continued, "Not really a red flag, but...it feels weird. Sanitized."

"Always trust your instincts." Patrick looked up as Teresa sat down on the bed. "Here she is, Grace. Say hi to Wayne and the kids." He handed over the phone.

"Hi, Grace," Teresa smiled. Then she frowned. "Uh huh. Hm. Really? No, it's not a case, so don't spend any more time on it. Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it." She smiled again. "That sounds great. I'll talk to Patrick and see what we can arrange. Love to Wayne and the kids!"

Patrick looked closely at her as she hung up. "Tell me that wasn't about the background check on our daughter's boyfriend."

"I wish I could."

He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "What's the connection?"

"Brett Mason's mother legally changed her name when she became an adult. I was trying to track down her original birth certificate. It led me to a private facility I couldn't crack. Turns out it was a Visualize hospital."

He reached over to rub her back, feeling her tension fade at his touch. Her imprisonment in a Visualize mental facility had been traumatic, and even an old trauma could be painful, as he was well aware. "So his mother was born into Visualize."

"Yeah."

That was no reason to freak out, he told himself firmly. "But she left it as an adult and changed her name."

"Probably to make it harder for them to keep track of her. Lots of people left Visualize after the Red John conspiracy was made public," Teresa said.

"Yes, they did. But she had to have left before that, unless she had Brett before she left. He's older than our kids." Patrick frowned. "Where was he born?"

"Mercy Hospital. So she'd already left, it seems."

"But if she was turning her back on the cult, why name her son Brett?" Patrick mused.

"I don't know. What I do know is that we can't hold this kid responsible for his parents' actions," Teresa said firmly. "I almost wish I hadn't dug around. Promise me you're not going to treat him like a criminal."

"Of course not." Victoria would never forgive him if he did. "But you can't blame me for being wary. We were never sure we got all his disciples. And if you'll recall, they had designs on our children."

"Like I could forget," Teresa grumbled. "I was the one who had to endure the brainwashing attempts, remember?"

"I remember." Though actually she'd never talked about it much. "What about his father?"

"Not named on his birth certificate. He was raised by a stepfather. No connection to Visualize that I could find."

"What was the connection to an old case?" Patrick needed more information. He had a bad feeling, but he needed to tread lightly. This wasn't a case, where he could piss people off with impunity. This was his daughter's life.

"Melinda Mason's father was part of the protection force, Vigilance. He was arrested once for threatening someone who'd left Visualize."

Patrick frowned. "I don't like it."

"I don't either. But let's not blow this out of proportion. They haven't been dating long; it probably won't last. Besides, she's going to college in a few months."

Where she'd be vulnerable, away from her parents' protection. "What if this is reconnaissance?"

Teresa grimaced. "You think she's the leader they'd want?"

"She's charismatic, yes. For my money, Liam would be a far better mastermind, but he's not the kind of person who collects a crowd."

"Look. Let's not get all paranoid about this. Nobody's ever come after the kids before." Teresa leaned over to kiss him, then got under the covers and turned off her lamp.

"Will you tell Moore?" Patrick reluctantly lay down and turned off his lamp too. "If this is a resurgence of his old case, he should be told."

She sighed into the darkness. "Yes, I'll tell him. He can officially look into it and put your mind at rest." After a moment, she rolled over and tucked an arm around him. "But you better hope your daughter never finds out you reported her boyfriend to the FBI."

"I won't tell her if you don't."

Teresa chuckled in his ear. "Deal."