A/N: Sorry I'm a little late with this update but I had a bad case of the flu last week and was sick all weekend, so I didn't get a chance to write. That being said, I have a longer chapter for you this time so I really hope you think it was worth the wait. As always, thank you to everyone who took the time to review. I really appreciate your support. :-)
Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.
Patrick was busy tidying his living room the next morning when he heard the doorbell ring. Putting down the pile of old newspapers and magazines he proceeded to walk over to the front door. It was another sunny day and he had been feeling good ever since he woke up. He just couldn't stop thinking about Teresa's novel and the fact that she might like him. It had been a long time since he had allowed himself to be in any kind of relationship; romance or even any kind of platonic human companionship just didn't seem that important to him after the death of Alejandro, but since he had met Teresa, it was like someone had turned on all the lights in his world again and he realised that he didn't have to live in darkness anymore. There was something about her that just made him smile. With these warm thoughts drifting around in his head he opened the door, his smile doubling in intensity when he saw her standing on his doorstep, arms so full of groceries that he could barely see her head. "Hey!" he greeted, clearly amused.
"Morning Patrick," she replied, peeking out from between the bags, all the while trying to balance everything. Patrick automatically reached out and took the bags from her.
"Let me help you with those," he said and invited her inside. "Did you rob a grocery store?" he joked as he walked over to the kitchen and set the bags down on the counter.
"Ha ha!" she replied as she joined him. "These were on special, buy one, get one free, so I thought I'd bring some over for you."
Patrick listened to her as he began to unpack. Now that he had read her novel he knew the real reason she brought these round every week. He grinned at the thought, she was such a little worrier. "You have to tell me where you shop, this store sounds amazing; seems like every week they have such incredible offers!" he teased affectionately.
Teresa ignored him and helped him unpack. "I came up with an interesting plot twist last night," she told him on her way to the refrigerator to put the juice away. "thought maybe you can have a read, let me know what you think?" She walked back to the bags and pulled out some milk and yoghurt. She then re-traced her steps back to the refrigerator and put those away too. All the while Patrick stood watching her, in awe that she had absolutely no idea how domestic this all looked.
"Actually, I thought we could go out for a walk instead?" he suggested.
"A walk?" she looked at him skeptically.
"Yes, it's a beautiful day, might be good to get some fresh air. We can walk along the lake, it'll be a good opportunity to do some people observation."
Just as she was about to answer, Teresa's cell rang. She looked at him apologetically and reached into her pocket and pulled out the phone. Patrick noticed the scowl appear on her face as she glanced at the caller ID. "Hello," she answered grumpily as she went into the living room to talk to the caller. Patrick watched as she walked away, then continued to put away the groceries, all the while trying to listen into the conversation in the next room. He assumed, based on her demeanor, that it was her publisher again, demanding a progress update. He really hated seeing her stressed and was already planning on making her a delicious breakfast to cheer her up. He smiled when he saw that she had bought him some eggs too and a box of tea. He set them both on the counter next to the stove and after he had finished put everything away he took out a frying pan and set about making her some breakfast.
He was halfway through cooking the bacon when heard her raise her voice. "No, not a chance!" he heard her say and he wondered what had been asked of her. There was a pause in her conversation and then he heard her say, "No way in hell!" A couple of seconds later he heard her footsteps coming back toward the kitchen and he quickly resumed cooking. He heard her exasperated sigh as she sat down in a chair.
"Everything okay?" he asked.
"Yeah," she lied as the scent of bacon and eggs caught her nose. Her stomach began to growl, making her remember that she hand't had any food that morning.
"You sounded angry, I could hear you shouting. Was that your publisher again?" he asked as he divided the food between two plates.
"Err...yeah!" she told him, but Patrick noticed the hesitation in her voice.
"They're really demanding! What did they want this time?" he asked, playing along.
"Oh, you know…" she began but didn't continue. "You made us breakfast?" she asked as he put the plates down on the dining table and asked her to join him. "Thank you Patrick, I'm starving!"
He smiled, "Well you did get me all this food! Come on, let's eat before it gets cold."
Teresa sat down with him and began to eat. A minute later her phone rang again. She fished it out of her pocket, glanced at the caller ID and then ignored it, letting it go to voicemail. Patrick watched as she resumed the task of cutting the bacon, noting that she was using unnecessary force. "Teresa," he began softly, "are you alright?"
"I'm fine." She mumbled as she practically shoved the piece of food into her mouth and began chewing.
Patrick put down his knife and fork and rested his hands on the table. "Who keeps calling you?"
She looked up at him, a scowl forming on her face. "I told you, my publisher."
"Teresa, come on."
"Are you calling me a liar?" she challenged, although halfheartedly.
Patrick looked into her eyes, "I've seen how you react when your publisher calls, you get annoyed, yes, but it's different. You can usually put it to the back of your mind and at least pretend everything's okay. This….this has affected you more deeply, it's personal….ex boyfriend?" he guessed.
"So what, are you psychic now?" she teased.
"No, my dear, but you are an easy read. It's not a bad thing, you wear your heart on your sleeve; an honest person, even when you don't want to be."
"Or maybe I'm just a very good liar and I'm making you think I'm honest?" she retorted.
"I don't think so. I'm right aren't I? About the the caller?"
"No!" she replied, then added, "ex husband."
"Ah!" said Patrick, "let me guess, after all these years he's finally realised what a mistake he made and he's trying to win you back?"
Teresa scoffed at that, "No way that'll ever happen!" she sighed, "he wants to help me out, you know, with money."
"I didn't realised you two still kept in touch?" Patrick asked as he sipped his tea.
"We don't, but my brothers just couldn't keep their mouths shut apparently!"
"Your brothers?"
"Tommy and James." She leaned forward and put her hands on her head. "Oh Patrick, I really appreciate everything Grace has done but….she's getting married now, she needs to save her money. I can't keep taking from her month after month. So I asked Tommy for a loan...I guess he told James I was in trouble and he told Jack! God I could kill them!"
"Hey," he began as his right arm slowly moved across the table and his fingers touched her elbow, causing her to look up at him again. "fratricide isn't the answer." he said and she giggled in spite of herself, the sound of which was like a sweet melody to his ears and he found himself tenderly stroking her elbow with his index finger, an unconscious gesture but one that did not go unnoticed to Teresa. She blushed but was warmed by his touch. She gazed into his eyes, transfixed by their intensity and before she knew it she found herself daydreaming about the love scene from her secret novel, before she caught herself and pulled away.
"Let's finish breakfast, we have a lot of work to do today. We're almost two-thirds of the way through. I've never been so excited about a novel in a long time, and it's thanks to you Patrick." She smiled shyly at his own brilliant smile.
"It's been a pleasure, my dear."
As they both continued to eat their food. Teresa noticed that there was something different about the way he looked at her today; it was a lot more intense than before, almost like the way a potential lover would look at her, as if he were undressing her with his eyes. She thought she was imagining it at first but then she noticed him stealing glances at her over breakfast. She found herself wondering what had changed in the last twenty-four hours.
After they had finished eat Patrick and Teresa sat down on his couch while Teresa told him all about her plot ideas. He listened to her, while simultaneously enjoying watching the animated expression on her face as she spoke. Every so often his thoughts would drift back to what he had read the previous night and he did his best to hide the smile he felt creep up on his face as he realised that it was that very couch which featured prominently in the love scene. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't realise she had asked him a question. "Patrick!" she said, for the third time and he broke out of his reverie.
"Hmm?" he asked.
"Am I boring you?"
He noticed that she had her arms crossed and was frowning now. "Oh no, off course not."
"So what do you think then?" she tested.
"I think it's a great idea, introducing a new character will give a story a new lease of life," he told her.
Teresa smiled, "Thank you Patrick," she then hit him on the arm.
"Ow! What was that for?" He asked.
"That wasn't the question I asked you!"
"Oh!" he said, smiling sheepishly.
"Yes, oh! What were you thinking about just now anyway? You had this huge grin on your face!"
Patrick's mind began to race, "I...was just thinking about the way you wolfed down that bacon this morning, you must have been really hungry. You know you really shouldn't skip meals, it does strange things to your blood sugar levels! You have to take better care of yourself or you're going to get sick!" he said.
"You're one to talk!" she retaliated and Patrick was intrigued.
"What do you mean?" He asked as he grinned and crossed him arms.
"Well, look at this place!" she replied and Patrick looked around. "It's a mess, how can you live like this?" she asked referring to the unkempt appearance of his living room.
Patrick smiled "As opposed to the immaculate desk in your study Teresa?" he teased and she punched him in the arm.
"That's different," she insisted, "it's where I work, it's a creative mess, helps me think!" They both laughed at that.
"You find inspiration from chaos huh?" he asked and noticed her blush slightly, an almost guilty look on her face and he knew she was thinking of her secret novel.
"Sometimes beauty can come from chaos," she said, more softly now as she looked into his eyes and Patrick felt as if she was seeing into his heart. He knew she was talking about him, knew that she saw some noble man underneath everything, even though his own self image painted a much darker picture. He felt his heart warm at her words.
"I bet you're really good at finding that beauty, not matter how deep it's hidden. It's in your nature Teresa; you have a kind heart, a caring soul. It's a precious thing, so hard to find these days."
Teresa smiled, "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me! Thank you Patrick."
He leaned into the cushions, never breaking her gaze, "You're welcome."
Teresa also leaned into the cushions, the two of them sat facing each other as a relaxed feeling encompassed them both. A few seconds later Patrick closed his eyes and Teresa found herself staring at the handsome man before her; his golden curls that seemed to glow in the sunlight, the gentle smile upon his lips, the rise and fall of his chest. He looked so peaceful, more relaxed than she had ever seen him and she found it so hard to believe that this was the same man who was so miserable just days ago.
"Is it really that bad?" he asked her, eyes still closed.
"Huh?" she asked, confused.
"The way I live? Is it really that bad?"
"It could use a bit of dusting…" she began but he interrupted.
"Not the mess," he paused, "you keep bringing me food, my dear, and while I am very grateful, I have to wonder, is it really that bad?"
Teresa hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say, "You only have a third of your refrigerator filled with food and a lot of it has expired. You are an amazing cook but I bet you only cook when you have company, the rest of the time…" she trailed off and Patrick opened his eyes.
"What?" he asked, curious.
"Never mind."
He moved closer to her, "No, please, what were you going to say Teresa."
"It's like you're a ghost! It's like you don't really live in this house, you..."
"Haunt it?" he offered and she nodded.
"That night in the garden and when I came over; you looked so sad, so lost, hurting. I was afraid you were going to hurt yourself. You kept telling me that it was your fault that your friend died but it wasn't Patrick. I know that there's probably nothing I say can make to you believe that, but you are a good man."
He smirked, "How do you know that Teresa, you've only just met me!"
"I know. I know by the way you've offered to help me and not asked for anything in return, by the way you keep making me breakfast and…" she paused, contemplating whether to say her next words, but when she saw the expectant look in his eyes she continued, "and I know what you're like at your lowest." Patrick's eyes widened at that last part. "That night, when you were drunk, you were not just sad, your were angry."
"Yes," he admitted, dropping his head in shame.
"But you didn't hurt me. You could have done, and you probably would have had reason to, but you didn't."
He looked at her, "I would never hurt you! You're the first friend I've made since…" he trailed off unable to finish the thought. "Teresa, I will never hurt you!"
She tried to smile but it was halted by the two teardrops trailing down her cheeks, "That's how I know you're a good man."
Patrick reached out to brush the tears away from her soft face and then whispered, "Teresa, did someone hurt you?"
She just nodded, unable to speak as more tears sprang forth from her eyes. Patrick's face turned serious as he moved even closer to her, "Oh Teresa, I'm so sorry."
She sniffed but did not move away from him. "My ex-husband used to have a drink everyday after work, at first it was no big deal, you know, he had a stressful job and I was always busy trying to get my writing done." She explained and Patrick listened intently. "It started off as a social thing with his friends from work, but then he got this big promotion, moved offices and started working long hours. When he got home he was usually tired and stressed. We didn't really get to spend much time together after that, he had to go to bed early 'cos he had to leave for work at six am and I…." She looked at Patrick, "Well, you know the hours I work. We hardly saw each other and I think he just turned to alcohol as a way to cope. I know he would get lonely and as the months went on the loneliness became more pronounced." She looked down at her hands, inhaling deeply as the memories threatened to overwhelm her. Patrick sensed her distress and reached out, taking hold of her hand, encompassing it in warmth.
"Teresa, it's okay. If this is too uncomfortable, I understand," he told her.
"No, it's okay, Patrick. I...I need to talk about this, I can't keep it inside anymore." He nodded, squeezing her hand as he continued to listen to her story. "We had been married just over a year when it started. Some evenings I would still be working on my novel and he would come to me, drunk, his breath smelling of alcohol. He would tell me he missed me and that he wanted me to stop working so late and spend some time with him. I told him I would but I needed to get the chapter done first. You've got to understand Patrick, writing has always been my passion and.."
"You're a perfectionist, you have to get it just right. I know." He smiled affectionately, remembering the writing sessions the two of them had shared.
Teresa shook her head, "I should have just sat and talked with him a little, I should have just left the novel and just kept him company till he fell asleep…"
"What happened Teresa?" though he already knew the answer.
"He wouldn't accept it. He said I loved my novel more than him and...and he hit me. Hard across the face. That was the first time. Soon he would just come home and if he saw me writing he would pull me out of the chair and…" she couldn't bring herself to finish.
"Shhh...shhh, it's okay, it's okay." He soothed as he tenderly enveloped her sobbing form in his arms. She rested her head against his chest, her tears flowing more freely now, soaking into his shirt.
"One time he hit me so hard I fell to the floor and couldn't stand up, I was in so much pain. He must've realised what he had done 'cos I could see the regret in his eyes. He took me to the emergency room," She paused, "told the doctors that I fell down the stairs."
"You didn't tell them what really happened?" he asked.
"He was my husband, I loved him Patrick, and when he was sober, he was a kind, gentle man. He kept telling me he was sorry but as soon as he started drinking, he would just do it all over again. That's how I met Grace, she was working as a receptionist at the hospital. She knew. She knew all along what was happening, she told me to get help, even gave me the number of someone I could call."
"Sounds like a smart lady!" Patrick said as he softly stroked her head.
"For weeks I thought about it and I was going to leave him when…one day I found out I was pregnant. Jack had always wanted a family so I thought this would make him happy." Patrick looked shocked, "Did it?"
"Yes! He was overjoyed, he stopped drinking and everything was good again. Then about 2 months later Jack comes home and tells me that his company was losing money and that he was being laid off. He was so depressed, there was nothing I could say to console him, so he went out. He came home around three in the morning, I was asleep. He kicked open the bedroom door which woke me up, I asked him to come to bed and that's when he got mad. He...he just lost it. I don't remember everything that happened but all I know is that one minute I was sitting in bed and the next I was on the floor and he was hitting me, shaking me, blaming me for everything that had happened!"
Patrick felt the blood begin to boil in his veins as a surge of anger built up within him. He wanted to hurt the man that had hurt the special woman in his arms, so long ago. He wanted to say something comforting to her but was choked on his own feelings.
"I remember crying and trying to tell him I was sorry, but then he pulled a gun on me!"
"Oh shit!" Patrick breathed, his heart speeding up as he held her tighter.
"I was so scared Patrick, I thought he was going to kill me, he looked so angry! I begged him not to hurt me, that I would do anything to make things right again...but he just gave me this disgusted look and then walked out of the room. The next morning I woke up in pain. I had started to get up and walk to the bathroom when I realised I was bleeding, my stomach hurt and I was bleeding! I found Jack asleep on the couch. I woke him up and told him to take me to the emergency room….but when I got there they told me I'd lost the baby." Her voice had become a soft whisper now.
"Oh my God, Teresa, I'm so sorry!" He said, feeling his own tears fall. He remembered the words he had spoken to her that night in his own outburst of drunken anger "do you know what it's like to lose a child…" and he felt a wave of nausea take hold at the thought of his careless words. "I'm an idiot, I'm so sorry if I scared you that night...if I had known…"
She looked up at him, "But you didn't Patrick, you couldn't have known."
"Teresa," he whispered as he tenderly kissed her head. He held her in his arms as the two of them sat in silence for a while, she taking comfort in his embrace and he determined not to let her go, feeling a protectiveness in him he had thought long dead. He cared for her very much and would do whatever he could to keep her safe. They were both emotionally drained, their feelings spent in a flood of tears and shallow breaths and it was not long before sleep took hold of them both.
