Slumped on her couch, a glass of wine in her hand, Teresa Lisbon let her tears flow.
How much she missed him. His joy, his stupidity, his crystalline laughter were not there to brighten her days, and his leaving had left a huge blank. She had tried to fill it in; she had tried to move on, but without any success.
Sometimes, she received letters, telling her how much he missed her, how much he missed her smile and her wonderful emerald eyes.
But could she believe him? She had believed him… Two years beforehand, when he had abandoned her on the beach, and when he had told her she mattered to him…
It sounds crazy to her, her, a mere woman, plain. She, Teresa, mattered to him.
Yet, he left. And she is once again alone, with a glass of wine as the only member of her gang.
What would she have given to be able to see him, to hug him, or even kiss him if she was brave enough? She did not even blame him anymore. No, she did not. She had managed to forgive him, she just wanted to him to be there, with her. But she knows it is only a mere fantasy. She is alone. He redid, she is sure about that, he is happy. And how on earth could she obtrude him on and ruin his happiness. Never mind if she had to suffer.
With a twinge, she noticed he was slipping away from her.
And she could do nothing about that.
oOoOoOo
Sat on the strand, listening to the waves rustling, Patrick Jane allowed his thoughts to wander off to Teresa Lisbon, the only woman who managed to understand him, to help him, and to love him. He always has a bitter taste when he takes into account that she has loved him, and that she might still love him.
He cannot understand that he can be liked, him, the broken man only living for his vengeance. He cannot understand it.
But what he can understand is that he misses her. Her rebukes, her smile, and her voice. Her voice when she told him to "stop his bullshit", when she congratulated him and when she laughed at his jokes. And her voice. What a wonderful voice of hers. And how pretty she was. But he, this monster, hurt her. He shattered her heart, once again.
Beyond his control, Patrick Jane felt his tears blurring his sight, as always, when he thoughts about her.
He tried to get in touch with Lisbon, he sent her shells, he wrote her letters, many letters, telling her that he could not live without her. Without her, he felt empty, a part of his soul flew away, and he did not know if he could ever get it back. Yet, he seemed happy on the outside. On the outside. On the inside, he was eaten up by sorrow and guilt, guilt of leaving her.
A part of him had flown away, and he could do nothing about that.