Thanks to AliahMPS; droppiedoe; ropaola(thank you :3 hopefully you'll like the rest as well); TeresaLisbonCBI; sbrt(the answer's in the chapter ^^); Viviskilener-jisbonist4ever; krolinette; Camille (glad you like it :3); ayako-chan1; lysjelonken; lolly2222; Eldanar; evonna for their reviews :D

And thanks to my half-beta for checking this :3

Disclaimer: I only own my twisted imagination :P


Blackout

2

Patrick sighed as he watched his… guest shut the door of the bedroom. He took a cookie and ate it. Five minutes passed before he decided to pick up the trail and head back to the kitchen. He wasn't very hungry anyway. He started to put back the items in the cupboard and on second thought, left the food on display on the table, in case she decided to actually eat something before heading back home. If wherever she lived was home, he added to himself. With the faint moonlight running through the half-closed curtains, he had seen the old bruises over her body and the faint leftover of scar on her left wrist.

Whoever this...-he frowned, trying to remember the complete name he had read on her school card- Teresa Lisbon was, she did not have the easiest life. His own parents –or rather his mother and stepfather- had never hit him, so to say. Psychological abuse was far more efficient. And lasted longer. He vaguely wondered if she had to endure both or just the physical hurt. He shrugged. It's not like this was any of his business, right?

Speaking of business… He leant an ear. Water was still running. So still in the shower, pondering over last night's facts? Patrick smiled uneasily. He had been a jerk this morning. The poor girl had such scared eyes when she saw him, seemed so… lost. He shook his head again and walked back to his bedroom. He put a pair of jeans and a white tee on. Hopefully, he being in a more dressed state would ease her fears. Perhaps he shouldn't have tried to seduce her after that good-morning kiss, but the young woman was such a pretty sight in her half-dazed state, blinking hard to fight the headache and at the same time trying to figure out where she was.

Oh yes, beautiful she was.

Petite in size, but close to perfect. Her emerald eyes, her freckles, her parted lips, her slender neck, her full-rounded breasts, her soft hands, her long legs and cute tiny feet. Even her bruises couldn't damage her body; they were only proof of her strength, that despite all she was going though, she still held on. She tasted like the forbidden fruit, moaned like an innocent kitten and… And she was surprisingly good in bed too, for a beginner.

Beginner. The word made him wince. Yeah, that was actually a point he regretted not noticing earlier. The previous night, his mind had gone AWOL and his male impulses had taken over. But the signs had been obvious. The clumsiness, hesitation of her hands when she touched him, the apprehension in her eyes when he had unhooked her bra, the trembling of her whole body when he pinned her to the mattress and the tightness…

The young man bit his lower lip guiltily. It hadn't been until he was actually pushing inside her that he had realized something was dead wrong. But it was already too late.

Patrick made his bed and gathered his dirty clothes for the laundry. A quick glance at the clock informed him Teresa had been locked in the bathroom for about half and hour. It didn't worry him much though. After all, his older sister took hours before they were allowed to push that damn door and get clean at last. He went to check her clothes –the machine was done, so up in the drier- and put his own to wash. Walking in front of the bathroom again, he made up his mind and knocked.

"Hey, you're all right in there?"

"'M'fine" came the dry reply.

"If you need anything just shout" he added before walking away. He doubted she would request his help in any matter, but that was the least he could offer, right?

The young man made his way to the entrance, walked out to check the mail, went back in and sat on his living-room couch to read the newspaper. He was too distracted to register anything though. Pictures of a petite brunette holding a half-filled glass at the bar, staring at him in annoyance kept invading his mind.

-B-

After Patrick's call on her, Lisbon decided she had pondered over her thoughts long enough. She quickly dried herself and spotted the spare clothes the young man had mentioned. A large red shirt and a smaller sport pants. While she knew the top would be way too big for her thin frame, the bottom fitted just nice –to her great surprise. Another detail was they were both feminine. Leftovers from his previous lovers? She wondered. And pushed the thoughts away. It was none of her business.

She opened the door of the bathroom wordlessly and headed back to the bedroom. One glance was enough to tell he wasn't there and neither was the trail he had brought earlier. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of calling after him or asking for food, she started wandering in the short corridors. Pretty soon, she arrived in what she supposed to be the kitchen. He had left the trail on the counter the food in display and she suddenly realized she was starving. The young woman helped herself readily, figuring he had left the whole thing there for her anyway.

Once she was done, she put the used plate and glass in the sink and headed elsewhere. The other room –the living-room, was filled with shelves containing dozens of books, and one large couch facing a TV. And there he was, sitting on the couch, reading a newspaper. Lisbon glanced at the closest books and blinked at the titles.

"Georges Elliot, Edgar Poe, William Blake, Arthur Rimbaud…" she read out loud, more to start a conversation than for herself. "Did you really read all of these?"

Patrick lifted his head a little and smiled.

"I am very opened-minded –and in case you were wondering, I also read comics. It's not like I have much to do when I'm done with work and the usual chores."

"This one's in French" she pointed out, nodding at the Illuminationsby Rimbaud.

"A friend used to speak fluent French. He taught me a little."

"Enough to read poetry?"

Patrick changed page and grinned:

"Enough to memorize the best pick-up lines."

Lisbon rolled her eyes. Strangely enough, she wasn't so scared anymore; perhaps because they were both fully clothed now.

"That stuff belonged to my sister…" he suddenly said, mentioning her clothes, and added with a smirk: "when she was fourteen. You're so skinny; I'm surprised I even managed to find something fitting."

The young woman narrowed her eyes at him, annoyed now.

"Why, each time you say something decent, you have to counter it with some stupid remark?"

"You're cute when you're angry" he said with a grin.

"Shut up!" she cut, taking a step closer to the couch. "I can't figure you out. One moment you sound like you're a very sweet and caring kind of guy…"

"Has anyone told you how desirable you look dressed in red?"

"…The next you sound like a complete jerk!"

"Perhaps you should call your parents to say you're okay. Your mother must be worried."

"Mom's dead, she can't exactly worry anymore." the young woman retorted with a snarl.

"Oh, so your father was the one beating you?"

Lisbon stared at him in surprise.

"Wh-"

"Your bruises" he explained, folding the newspaper. "They aren't the result of some clumsiness, or some bad luck. Unless you are really clumsy and unlucky, you don't catch so many bruises by accident. They have almost faded, so I suppose they are a few months, if no a year old and I doubt a woman would strike strong enough to make them last so long. The scar on your wrist is, I suppose, from that time. Did your father stop beating you after you attempted suicide?"

"That is pure speculation" she hissed, narrowing her eyes and crossing her eyes defensively. "And how would you know?"

Patrick stood up slowly and took a step closer to her. She didn't back up, and he admired her for that. He was way taller and stronger than she was and, according to his friends, quite intimidating when he put up the poker face.

"I kissed allofthem last night." She winced at the reminder. "And I know what abuse means, Teresa. My step-father wasn't the most comprehensive man on this planet. He preferred locking me in dark closets though. Your clothes shouldn't be ready till another twenty minutes. Do you want to call your family at least to warn them? Given the pictures in your wallet, you still have brothers who might worry."

The annoyance she felt facing his self-confidence raised a bit more.

"You really went through all my stuff" she snorted, looking around for her handbag. The young man grinned in amusement.

"Old habit. I didn't steal anything, you can check."

"Don't worry, I was going to."

Her snapping made him chuckle and cross arms.

"You are really cute when you're annoyed."

The cockiness in his tone and the honesty in his eyes made her wonder whether she should slap him senseless or blush in appreciation. Not many guys complimented her in general; and the way he looked at her, ever after seeing her completely naked and having had sex with her already…

"And red really emphasizes your curves…"

She rolled her eyes. That guy…

"Oh shut up."


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