Lisbon was woken in the dead of the night by the trashing of the man sleeping beside her. It broke her heart to see him still haunted by the ghost of his former enemy, even a year after his final demise.
"Wake up, Patrick."
He let out an anguished cry, calling her name. She proceeded to shake him, only to let out a yelp when his hands closed like a vice around her wrists.
"Patrick, you're hurting me."
His grip eventually relented, as he blinked like a deer caught in the headlights. It took him a moment to take in the bruises he'd left on her skin, then he jerked back as if he'd been burnt.
"I thought… I didn't mean to…" he stammered incoherently before fleeing the room.
The bathroom door banged shut, and Teresa let out a deep sigh. She didn't need to be a psychic to guess what he'd been dreaming about.
A couple of minutes later she was tapping against the doorframe. "You okay? May I come in?"
There was no answer, but she could hear his labored breathing through the closed door; so she simply turned the handle and went in.
Jane was slumped on the floor, his head resting against the bathtub. Silent tears were running down his cheeks, but whether they were due to fear or shame she just couldn't tell.
She sat down on the edge of the bathtub, gentle fingers running through his tousled hair.
"Red John's dead, Patrick. There's no way he can hurt me now."
"Guess I'm taking care of that in his stead."
"There's only one thing that really hurts me, and that's when you sink back into your self-loathing pattern."
He exhaled a shaky breath, then brought her wrists to his lips. "I'm sorry."
Teresa allowed him to trail feather-like kisses all over the scarlet patches on her skin. She really didn't care for a few bruises, but she knew he wouldn't find any peace until he begged forgiveness after his own fashion.
"Now that you've kissed it better, why don't we go back to sleep?"
Jane gave her a watery smile and followed her to their bedroom. It didn't take him long before he fell asleep once again.