The golden thread

That night, they were again on the beach. Only two more days now, and they'd have to go back to Austin. Patrick would have liked to never leave that wonderful place, where he had Teresa all for himself. And in the same time, he was excited at the idea that their life together, everyday life as a couple, was about to begin. They had already made projects, in what area they would settle, what kind of house they would choose. Or rather, she had made some projects, for wherever Teresa would choose to live was home for him. She had agreed to keep the airstream so they could use it for some week-ends out of town.

He'd never been happier in his life, he thought, as he was looking at his love taking a midnight bath. He had not joined her, for as much as his ankle had improved, trying to jump into the strong waves of the ocean woulnd't have been a very good idea. But seeing her enjoying herself that much was an even greater pleasure.

How funny that one of the things Teresa used to praise him for was his capacity of relishing the small pleasures of life, as she said.

For after the murder of his family, the one and first thing he'd been able to relish had been her smile.

Before meeting her, he'd lived in some kind of frozen, ghostly world, where the brightest sun brought no warmth, where the more vivid coulours, the most beautiful sights had no reality. He registered his surroundings and responded to them enough to put up a facade and be released from the mental facility, but to him everything was only some kind of distant background. Only existed Red John, and how to find access to any kind of clue about him. Killing Red John some day was the only idea that made him get up on the morning like some kind of hopeless, vengeful living corpse.

Only her smile and her beautiful, compassionate green eyes had been able to reach him through the icy fog that was surrounding him. The knowledge that he would see her during the day had given him another reason to go on. Enjoying her company had become the one and first thread that had led him back in the world of the livings, the world where there were sights, smells and sounds that could be enjoyed.

Maybe she had been the first person to be real again for him because he was real for her. He had felt, from the very beginning, that she could see him, his real self, and not the various images he could project as it suited him, to the point he sometimes didn't know himself who he was.

But she knew. From the very beginning. If not, would she have had the idea to show him that even without pretending to be a psychic, he was actually able to solve a case ?

That first day he had spent following her in her investigations, he had given her clues about the case without really thinking about it, because observing people and their behaviour had become second nature for him. He hadn't foreseen at all that she'd actually ask him to help her to solve the case. At first, he hadn't thought he could do it. He had succeeded yet, and it had been his ticket for the CBI and unlimited access to the Red John files. But it had been as well a first step toward some measure of self esteem. And he knew that it'd been the reason why she'd done it, even if she hadn't been completely aware of it at the moment.

For if reading people was second nature for him, helping them was like breathing for her. She saw a person in anyone she met, never just clues for her own behavior and means to an end.

Once he had begun working with her, it had not taken long for him to understand what a kind, strong person she was, just like Angela. It had not taken him long either to realise that she could see too many shades of grey to be just that tough and by the book cop she pretended to be. It was mainly a mask. And that was something he could understand very well. With his father, expressig his true feelings, showing any kind of weakness, meant to give the bastard tools he would use, immediately or much later, to hurt him and bend him to his will. That's why he'd seen very soon that Teresa's mask hid the damages from her own past, and other aspects of her personality as well, her self doubts, her keen sense of humour, and even (lucky for him) her awareness that sometimes some rules had to be broken.

God, how he loved that woman. She'd become so quickly the best friend he'd ever had. Many times, he had regretted too late the hard time she'd had because of another of his foolhardy or illegal schemes. And he'd tried to make it up for her, using all the ways he could think of.

And then, slowly, along his way back in the living world, he'd been able to be attracted to women again.

Or rather, to one woman.

To identify when he'd realised that she was not only his dearest friend, but also a very attractive woman was not easy. It was probably not long before he bought the emerald neckless to her. Even if he had bought one to Van Pelt too, he remembered perfectly that it was the green jewels he'd imagined matching green eyes, anticipating their effect on her white skin.

But of course, fantasizing on another woman than Angela was unthinkable, unacceptable. He'd fought this with all means at his disposal, infuriating her on purpose, like a small boy with his first crush, hiding informations from her, to protect her, but also to keep her at a distance, trying to hide any kind of pain or hearthache to avoid indulging in the comfort she was always ready to give him.

For it went without saying that he had to be faithfull untill death to Angela, the only woman he'd ever loved, the one whose death he was responsible for. That he didn't deserve to be loved by anyone went without saying as well. These weren't even conscious decisions. It was just part of what he had become.

That's why, maybe, the only women he'd allowed himself to feel attracted to were Kristina and Erica, two women he despised, for different reasons. With Erica, real involvement was just impossible, as she was supposed to go back to jail. He had asked Kristina for a date because of her obvious interest in him, and because he hadn't yet managed to find out if she was a perfect liar, or on the contrary self-delusional to the point she believed in her own so-called psychic powers. He'd done it as well with the idea that if Red John saw him taking interest in other women, he wouldn't suspect what Teresa meant for him. And then, the sick bastard had kidnapped Kristina, probably mostly because of what she had said on TV, but he'd felt responsible nonethless. If he hadn't crossed her path again, nothing of this would have happened to her. So he had kept refusing any opportunity of dating, however explicit some women at the CBI or elsewhere had made their interest in him.

It was not a difficult thing to do, as he was more and more aware that only one woman would ever interest him. What was difficult was not making this obvious for her as well.

He'd known from the beginning that she was attracted to him. After all, it'd been his job for years to know that kind of things. But even if Red John had not been lurking in the background, she deserved so much better than him. And yet, hypocrite bastard that he was, he'd let her devote ten years of her life to his revenge. The only man he had encouraged her to date had been Mashburn, because he'd known from the beginning that neither her nor him would take their attraction to each other seriously. Mashburn because he never did, and Teresa because he was a kind of man she'd never trust. It had been another decoy, another way to try and make her believe that she was just a friend for him.

But the real miracle was that she had fallen in love with him, a man whose attitude in life seemed on many points quite similar as Mashburn's. And on some other points, much worse. What had she seen in him, to become so deeply attached to him ? To never give up on him, even when he'd been at his worst ? All his mentalist skills couldn't explain him that, or so it seems. Maybe it was no use pondering too much over it. He was done considering that he didn't deserve to be happy. What was important was that she deserved all the happiness in the world. And these four days had been enough to make him be sure, now, that whatever the reasons, she had chosen him and needed him, that he'd been wrong to try to let her go for her own sake. In the end, he'd not been able of such selfless act. But he'd managed, on the contrary, to get over his fear that any full commitment to her would mean to lose her. And it had turned for the best.

What was important now was to be grateful for such a precious, undeserved gift. And grateful he was, more that he could ever say. He'd make it all worthwhile for her, with all the resolve he was capable of. Making her the happiest woman in the world would be his new single-minded goal.

Please review !