Whenever they road in the car, Patrick couldn't resist touching Teresa's baby bump. Sometimes she'd pretend to be annoyed and tell him he was lucky she needed to keep her hands on the wheel. He would always just grin. Tuesday morning's trip to the office was no different, with Teresa driving as usual. Patrick had his left elbow propped on the arm rest, fingers gently rubbing and tapping her belly. He was looking out the window and she kept thinking about how he had acted earlier that morning. A four AM cup of tea on the front porch wasn't normal, even by Jane standards. She had awoken briefly to the sounds of clinking cups and the front door shutting. By the time they were dressed for work, she could see plainly that he did not plan on talking about it. So they left and she tried not to worry about him. Ten minutes down the road, she finally just asked him. "You ok?"

She looked over just long enough to catch him try to hide his sad smile.

"Tell me." She said kindly.

He cleared his throat a little. "Today's uh... It's Charlotte and Angela's anniversary." He looked down at his old shoes.

Pregnancy brain. That had to be it. How else could she have forgotten? Her face fell. "I have no excuse, Jane. I am so sorry!"

"Teresa, please don't be sorry." He shook his head, eyes still on his shoes.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

There was a pause. "I didn't want you to think I was putting the ring back on."

Teresa suddenly pulled off onto the shoulder and flicked on the hazards. She turned off the car and took his hand. He looked over at her quickly, then pursed his lips and diverted his gaze again.

She sighed. "I know this is different."

He nodded, still not looking at her.

"Jane, look at me." He did. "I need you to understand that. They were your family. The anniversary of their death matters. This isn't weird. I don't feel threatened."

He nodded and took a shuddered breath.

"Ok?" she asked, tilting her head to make sure he didn't break eye contact.

He nodded again and just breathed.

She put the key in the ignition and got back on the road. They drove in silence the rest of the way to FBI parking lot. He didn't touch her again. When they finally arrived and before Teresa could open the car door, Patrick spoke up.

"There's something I should let you in on."

She sat back in her seat and gave him her attention.

"Before Mexico..." It wasn't like Patrick to employ euphemisms, but McCallister didn't deserve to be remembered. Not in that car, not in front of his unborn child.

"Every year, I'd do the same thing on this day." He was careful to look her in the eye and not give into shame. "I'd go to the same restaurant. I'd sit at the same table set for three and I'd get drunk on bloody marys."

"Every year?"

"Every year."

Teresa nodded thoughfully. Silence hung between them for long moment.

"You like bloody marys?" She didn't crack a smile, but he did. He couldn't help it when she was trying to make him feel better.

"You're the best person I know." He said.

She leaned over to kiss him. Then he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers. "Thank you."

"I'll meet you inside." She grabbed her bag and headed into work.

Patrick watched her go until she disappeared behind a row of cars. He rested his head against the seat and took a deep breath. He was reminded of her in her wedding dress, Glock in hand, telling him "See how much better things turn out when you're honest with me?"

He did see, and it kept getting clearer and clearer.

Smiling to himself, he got out of the car and followed her inside.