Author's note: Written for the Paint It Red March 2013 Monthly Challenge - prompt: "All the words unspoken".
One Step at a Time
"You're going to make it, Jane. It's only a matter of taking it one step at a time, really."
"And quite literally too. Now I can understand how frustrating it must be for a toddler when their parents urge them to try and walk."
Lisbon bit back the words that were dancing on the tip of her tongue.
At least you're still alive, you big baby.
She hadn't dared to hope as much when what was left of his car had been found in a ditch. He'd been lying in a coma for weeks, and during that time they'd eventually discovered that the John Doe who'd been sitting right beside him on the passenger seat – and died in the car crash – was no one else than the infamous serial killer known as Red John.
Apparently he'd tried to kidnap Jane for some reasons, and the consultant had been only too quick to grab such an unexpected chance to get rid of his longtime foe. The fact that he hadn't hesitated to risk his own life in the process still hurt her more than she was willing to admit.
What she would have done if Jane had actually died in the accident, she just didn't know.
Her eyes filled with angry tears, and she abruptly turned around. "I need some air. Go on with your exercises."
She felt his eyes on her all the way out of the room.
xxx
"Your physiotherapist is angry at you."
"I don't care."
"He's trying to help you."
"I don't need his help. No one can help me, as a matter of fact."
She clenched her fists in order to stop herself from slapping him across the face. "You're right. No one can help you, as long as you don't allow them to."
"You're sweet," he said softly, but his voice lacked conviction.
Without dignifying him of another glance, she grabbed the tray with the tea service and left the room.
xxx
"What are you doing?"
"Shut up, Patrick."
It wasn't an everyday occurrence for her to call him by his first name; but given the fact that she was currently nibbling his ear while her fingers deftly unbuttoned his shirt, their usual last-name policy didn't really fit anymore.
Lisbon felt him shivering when one of her hands slid over his bare chest, gently caressing his soft skin. She smirked and claimed his lips, sighing appreciatively when he eventually deepened the kiss.
"I'm not sure… I can do this."
Her hands ghosted along the waistband of his pants. "That's why I'm taking charge."
And for once he simply allowed her to.
xxx
"You're pathetic, you know."
"Just help me to my feet, woman."
"So that you can flee from my apartment? No way."
"Are you really going to let me lying here the whole day?"
"You would deserve it."
She'd been woken at half past six in the morning by the thud Jane had made as he tripped and fell down the stairs. Had he been able to walk properly without crutches, he would have been far from her house right now.
How had she been so naïve to think that spending the night together could actually change anything? He was still determined not to let her in, no matter how hard she tried.
Washing her hands of him was probably her better option either way.
"I'm going to drive you back to your motel room. Don't even bother to call me the next time you fall flat on your face."
xxx
"Idiot."
When it was clear that the image staring back at her from the mirror wouldn't answer, she dragged herself to the couch and turned on the TV.
After zapping through the whole channel selection she gave up and threw the remote on the coffee table. Her life was a mess, and no amount of chick flicks could distract her from this simple fact.
She'd been holding back the tears for much too long now. A good cry would probably make it better, if anything.
So she buried her face among the cushions and just cried herself to sleep.
xxx
"Please, let me in."
"No."
"What are your neighbors going to think when they find me slumped on your doorstep?"
"I don't care."
She was sick and tired of his games. Of him pretending that he cared, when that couldn't have been farther from the truth.
The only woman he'd really cared for had been lying under green grass for ten years now. There was no way she could compete with a ghost, and one permanently engraved in his memory palace too.
"I haven't walked all the way to your apartment to be left out in the rain."
"You… what?"
Concern got the better of her, and she threw the door open at last. Pain was written all over Jane's face; only sheer stubbornness still kept him on his feet in spite of everything.
"Your doctor is going to kill you this time," she said as she guided him to the couch, his arm leaning heavily over her shoulders.
"I thought he wanted me to exercise more."
"You really don't know what taking something one step at a time actually means, do you?"
He smiled and rested his face in the hollow of her neck.