Chapter Four

Driving to the trailer park where Jane kept his Airstream, Lisbon found her hand going to her throat, touching her mother's crucifix. Please God, help me to help him. You saved us from dying. Please save us from the nightmares. By the time she arrived, she was feeling calmer, though she still had no idea what to say to Jane. Yelling at him, her first resort in the old days, was probably not the way to go. That thought almost made her smile as she walked up and knocked on the door of the RV.

He opened it without delay. As she climbed the steps, the first thing she noticed was that he was still dressed but barefoot, confirming what she already knew, and she spoke the thought without meaning to. "You're planning to spend the night here?"

Patrick had the grace to look uncomfortable. "I thought I might. The case was tiring, you need your rest. You'll sleep better if I..." He paused. She looked at him steadily. He couldn't quite meet her eyes, but went on, "...if I'm not there waking you up."

"Unh uh," Teresa responded simply, shaking her head. "Not gonna happen. I found out in jail, I can't sleep without you any more. Last night, same thing. You've spoiled me, so now you're stuck with me. I'd rather take my chances with you waking me up than not sleep at all. If you want to stay here, fine, we'll stay here. But we're a package deal now. You're not leaving me." The tremor she heard in her own voice in the last words sent a wave of scalding embarrassment through her for a moment, but she refused to let herself flinch. She lifted her head and looked at him.

He was looking back at her now, his eyes wide, shocked. "No! I - I'm not... I don't want to leave you, Teresa, how can you think that? I love you. I just..." His eyes dropped and he turned a little, not able to face her. "I don't want to disturb you is all. I keep having these, these stupid nightmares, and there's no reason you should have to put up with it. I just need a little time. Soon, it - it'll get better, and then..."

He was stammering. Jane never stammered. And he wasn't looking at her. For a man who was normally all about intense eye-contact, especially with her, the change was painful, his discomfort obvious. Even when he'd told her about his nervous breakdown, she remembered, he'd looked her in the eye. Could the nightmares be worse than the breakdown? Then she got it. The breakdown was in the past. The dreams are now. It's worse for me to see it happening.

She opened her mouth, knowing she needed to find words now, but still having no idea what to say. Then an odd thing happened. The moment suspended, as if time stopped for just an instant, and words came to her. His words, the ones that had changed everything. It's the truth of what I feel. That was it, what they both needed. Like she had momentarily when she first walked in, she should just open her mouth and let the truth of what she was thinking and feeling flow out. No trying to protect herself, or him. No judging or censoring. Just honesty. And trust.

Time snapped back, and she heard her own voice, shaky at first, then strengthening. "How will it get better, if you don't let me help? If you shut me out? It really scares me when you do that. What if it doesn't get better? How long before you give up on coming back to me? Or how long can you do without sleep before you hurt yourself? Drink too much or take too many sleeping pills, or, or crash your car because you fall asleep? I don't want to lose you, Patrick. I hate seeing you in pain. I really hate it when you push me away and don't let me see. Waking or sleeping, I want to be with you. Please just - just let me." Her voice was wavering now, tears threatening.

He was staring at her in astonishment. When she stopped, trying to gulp back the tears, he spoke, his voice soft and reassuring. "It'll be okay, my darling. I'll be okay. I don't mean to push you away, and I don't want you to be scared. I promise I'll be careful. Try not to worry. This isn't the first time I - I've had problems, you know that. I got through it before, and I'll get through it now. It'll just take some time. I know I... you've had to be patient with me for far too long, but, but if you can -"

She interrupted, knowing now exactly where she was going. "I'm happy to be patient with you, I don't care if you wake me up five times a night, just don't ask me to be away from you. Whatever you need, however long it takes. Just please let me try to help. I know you've survived worse, when you... when you were in the hospital..." He flinched, and she hesitated, then licked her dry lips and firmed her courage. "You had help then. I know you don't trust doctors, but you told me yourself Sophie Miller was good, that she helped you." He nodded reluctantly, not meeting her eyes. Here goes the big question. "I think you need help now." He shifted, moving away from her slightly and starting to shake his head, and she hurried on. "Not a doctor necessarily. But they say it can really help to talk about dreams. If you could talk about what's bothering you, even if just to... to me, maybe... maybe that would help. We could... try anyway." She heard how small and timid her voice was becoming, and tried to make it strong again. "We need to do something, Patrick. Pretending nothing is wrong is not going to work."

He was looking at her now, into her eyes, and Teresa met his gaze, as steadily as she could. She could see his indecision. He had torn himself open for her once, when he told her how he felt about her. Now she was asking him to do it again, to share not just his love but his pain with her. Could he do it? Would it even help if he could?

Yes! she thought, and tried to send her own certainty to him, that a partnership as strong and abiding as theirs was more than enough to defeat something as insubstantial as a bad dream.

She could see in his eyes the moment when he made up his mind, but in typical Jane fashion, he had to mask strong emotion with a joke. "Are you going to start smoking cigars now? Should I call you Doctor Freud?" Relief flooded through her. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

"I do love you, you know," she said softly. "Even when you're acting like an idiot."

"I had noticed," he replied, and pulled her into his arms.