A/N: I really struggled with this chapter; it has gone through so many re-writes I've lost count, but I hope it turned out okay in the end. Please let me know what you think. Thank you once again to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and I just wanted to say a special thank you to lili87 and Amy for your consistent reviews and support :-)

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.

When Teresa tried calling Patrick that afternoon he wasn't answering his phone. She went to look out of the window and saw that his car wasn't in the drive. She had been meaning to thank him for everything he had done for her that night and for the amazing gesture this morning but she couldn't get hold of him. After making herself some coffee she decided to do some writing. She sat down at her desk and switched on her laptop and accessed the novel the two of them had been working on, but as she began to type her thoughts kept drifting towards her other novel and she soon found herself opening it up and writing all about the events of last night, substituting hers and Patrick's names for those of the characters'. However as she wrote about how frightened Tracy felt at the threatening presence of her ex-husband, she began to feel a growing sense of nausea rise up from the pit of her stomach. She stopped tying and sat back in her chair as a revelation came to her and for a moment it felt like she was seeing herself for the first time since the divorce and the woman she had become was like a reflection of her former self. It was a mirror image of the woman she used to be, her but not her. It seemed as though everything was reversed. She didn't remember when she had become so afraid of everything; she used to be such a strong, confident woman, but somewhere along the line Jack had taken that away from her, made her feel like she didn't deserve happiness or love. She had become content to just hide in the shadows and let others fight her battles.

She thought back to the way Patrick had stood up for her last night and although she felt a primal sense of admiration and gratitude for his help, there was big part of her that felt a profound sense of embarrassment and failure from those events. She hated the fact that she couldn't just tell Jack to go to hell herself; that the mere sight of him standing outside her house, demanding her attention sent the coldest shivers through her body. She also hated the fact that Patrick had seen her cry because of it. It was at that precise moment when something changed in her mind and she decided that she could just no longer go on living this way.

She looked at the jersey Patrick had given her, which was now lying on her couch. He had taken a bold step in letting go of his pain and Teresa knew she had to do something like that for herself too before it was too late. Jack had taken away the last six years of her life because she had let him, afraid of getting close to anyone for fear of being hurt again, not just physically but emotionally too. She did love him, of that she was sure, no matter what her family may have thought, but she also knew that she was devoted to her writing too, and in some dark corner of her mind, a part of her still believed that what her family said was true, that it was her fault her marriage didn't work.

She stood up from her chair and walked over to the wall on the opposite side of the room where several framed pictures hung. One particular picture caught her attention and she moved towards it, as if beckoned, her eyes fixed, trance-like as memories came back to her. It was the picture Jack had bought her on their honeymoon in Mauritius. She had always loved black and white sceneries and so he had bought her a beautiful one of the beach. She had treasured it, even after the bitterness of their marriage, she had given it pride of place on the wall in her new home. She found though, that as the years went on, every time she looked at it, a part of her soul was being destroyed, her life in shackles, her heart aching. It tied her to the past, held her back from living her life, like the box of matches she had buried and, she realized as she looked around the room, like a lot of other things she had kept in memory of the relationship that had hurt her so much.

She took it off the wall and held it in front of her, the falling drops of sadness landing upon the ocean in the picture and for a moment it looked as if the water had come to life, ready to either engulf or cleanse her; at that moment she didn't know which. She stood there for a moment, her own powerful ocean of feelings ebbing and flowing, a quiet melancholy followed by bubbling anger, highs and lows, confusion, a gathering storm collecting itself in her heart. Then suddenly the clouds burst and in a shower of tears Teresa threw the picture onto her hardwood floor, cracking the glass and causing the frame to come apart before her. She was stunned for a moment, just stood there, staring at what she had done. She had expected to feel regret but she found she felt nothing. She looked around the room and her eyes came to rest upon an ornament Jack had bought her. Without hesitation she headed towards it, picked it up and threw that on the floor too, relishing in the feeling of release she got as it broke into pieces. That act had opened a gate, and before she knew it she had taken about a third of the things in the room and had dumped them in her backyard, intending to donate them to charity later. At that moment, she just wanted them out of her house. When she was done she sat back down at her desk and tried once more to concentrate on her novel. Her heart was racing but she found that her mind was at peace.

It wasn't even five minutes after she had sat down that she heard a car pull up in the driveway next door. Patrick's back! She thought and couldn't help the smile that crept up on her face. It wasn't long before she heard a knock on the back door. She got up from her chair and walked over to the kitchen where she saw the silhouette of her neighbor standing outside. She opened the door and smiled at him, "Hey Patrick," she greeted and he returned her smile with a warm one of his own, but it was quickly replaced by furrowed brows.

"You locked the door?" he asked and Teresa detected a faint note of surprise in his voice as she invited him inside.

"After what happened last night, it seemed like a good idea." She said.

Patrick nodded and walked over to the electric kettle sitting on the counter. Teresa noticed he had a small bag in his hand, which he set down on the counter beside the kettle.

"I thought I'd make us both some tea and then we can work on the next chapter," he began as he took out a box of camomile tea that had bought.

"Tea?" she asked, her mouth forming the little pout that Patrick was beginning to love.

"Trust me, it's much better for you than all that coffee you drink. Besides, this is chamomile, helps you to relax, and you'll be able to write a lot better when you're relaxed."

Teresa sighed but she relented, "It better not put me to sleep, I want to get a lot of writing done today!"

Patrick smiled and shook his head, "Why don't you go sit down, I'll bring these right out?" he suggested and she nodded and went back into the study and sat at her desk.

A few minutes later, as Patrick walked into the study holding two cups of tea he heard Teresa typing furiously at the keyboard. He watched her discreetly. He had noted that there was something off about her whole demeanor when she invited him in, it was like she was trying to hide something behind the jokes about the tea and the smiles. He set her tea down on her desk and as he took a few steps back he noticed the broken ornament and the picture on the floor. He looked at Teresa in concern, "What happened?" he asked as he set her mug down on her desk.

"Nothing," she shrugged nonchalantly and continued to type but Patrick wasn't buying it.

"Teresa, you know you can talk to me right?"

She finally stopped typing, sighed and turned around to face him. "Jack happened!" she said.

Patrick looked moved closer to her, "Did he come back?" he asked.

She shook her head, "No." She stopped typing and turned around to face him, her eyes had begun to burn with unshed tears. "I wish I never met him Patrick!" She said, "I wish he never came into my life!"

Patrick set his own mug next to hers and crouched down next to her so his eyes were level with her own. "What happened?" he repeated, softly this time.

"I can't get him out of my head. No matter how hard I try he's always there, taunting me, it's like I'm a prisoner in my own life. I cant break free of him."

"Teresa I…" he began but she interrupted him.

"Look at me Patrick! This isn't me! I never used to cry so much before I married him, but ever since…ever since I lost the baby there hasn't been a week that has gone by when I haven't cried." She wiped the trickle of tears that had begun to fall, "He not only took away my child but he's taking away my life!"

"Hey, it's alright, it's alright," Patrick soothed as he held her in his arms, stroking her hair as he did so. He waited until the crying stopped before he let her go. He then stood up slowly and walked to the kitchen. When he came back he had a dustpan and brush in his hands. He walked towards the shattered ruins on the floor and began to sweep them up. "We have to find a better way for you to channel your aggression, or soon you're not going to have any more ornaments left!" he joked, trying to lighten the mood. He looked around the room and it was only then that he noticed that certain items were missing. "Teresa," he began turning towards her now, "what happened to all your stuff in here?"

Teresa looked down at her hands, "I got rid of some things," she replied.

"It looks like you've been burglarized!" he told her.

She inhaled deeply, "Remember that letting go ceremony we had? Well I decided to let go of a few more things."

"It looks like you let go of half of the things in your study!"

"All those things reminded me of him, I just couldn't look at them anymore." She turned her eyes towards him, "I thought I was over it, but seeing him again last night…"

"I understand," Patrick told her, holding her gaze for a few seconds.

"I thought it would make me feel better but I just got so angry…and before I knew it…"

"This little ornament was shattered to pieces!" he finished and she nodded. "Wasn't this the little snowman you had on that shelf?" he asked and Teresa was surprised that he had been so observant.

"Yes, Jack bought it for me on our first anniversary."

"Oh." He said, and then went to dispose of the small shards he had just swept up. "You ever thought about playing Squash?" he asked as he walked towards the kitchen.

"Squash?" She asked.

"Yes, might help you work off some of that aggression?" he called out.

Teresa thought about it for a moment. "You know that's actually not a bad idea!" she told him as he walked back into the room. She had been meaning to start working out again.

"There's a place near here, it's only a ten minute drive." He smiled, "You're gonna love it! I used to play all the time in Malibu."

"Maybe we could go together?" she asked. "Might be good for both of us?"

Patrick smiled, trust her to want to help me when I'm trying to help her! He thought. "That sounds like a great idea. I think I still have my old racket somewhere…we'll have to get you one…and we'll have to book a court, I wonder if they'll have one free for tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" she asked.

"Gives you less time to change your mind! I'll call them." He told her and she watched in amusement at how excited he suddenly seemed to become. "We need to head down to the sports store and pick one out now!"

"What, right now?"

He grinned, "No time like the present!" he grinned and then grabbed her arm and pulled her over to the front door.

"Patrick!" she yelped, caught off guard. He turned around to look at her, "My car keys?"

"I'll drive." He told her as he continued to lead her to the front door, her arm in his hand.

"Slow down!" She laughed, "The store's not going anywhere!"

"Time's a wasting!" he replied as they left her house.

Two weeks had gone by and the two of them were returning home from their Saturday morning squash game. They had decided to make it a twice weekly habit and Teresa found that she enjoyed it very much. It had been obvious from the start that Patrick was an experienced player but Teresa was a fast learner and she had beaten him in their game today, much to his chagrin. "I let you win, you do realise that?" he teased her as she unlocked the front door to her house.

"Nice try Patrick, but you know as well as I do, I won that game fair and square! You're just gonna have to suck it up!"

"Yeah yeah, enjoy it now; Wednesday's game is mine!"

"We'll see about that!" She told him as she walked into the kitchen.

"Yes we will!" Patrick said quietly as he watched her walk away, pleased with how happy she was today. He was about to tease her further when his cell phone rang, he smiled when he saw the caller ID. "It's Maria, Alejandro's mother, I gotta take this."

"Sure," she nodded and proceeded to pour them both some juice. Patrick smiled at her and then walked over to the living room and sat down on the couch to answer his phone. While he was talking she decided to go upstairs and take a quick shower, figuring that Patrick would be on the phone for while with his old friend. When she had finished and had changed into some clean clothes she went back downstairs, noting that he had stopped talking. She walked into the kitchen to get the drinks but found they were gone.

"In here!" he called from the living room and Teresa went over to him and saw that he had placed the two glasses on the coffee table in from of him.

Patrick patted the seat next to him, gesturing for her to sit down. As she walked over to him he noticed that she had changed and that her hair was now damp and hanging in loose waves around her shoulders. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla wafted across him as she sat down. "You smell lovely," he told her.

"Thanks," she blushed and reached for a glass. When she leaned back she noticed that Patrick was staring at her. She smiled, thinking that it was just him checking her out, but little did she know that half way through her shower, Patrick had ended his phone call and then proceeded to download the next few chapters of My Phantom Muse onto the flash drive which now rested inside his pocket.

He watched her as she leaned back into the couch sipping her juice and a pang of guilt slowly began to creep up on him as his conscience scolded him for what he was doing. When he first began altering her novel, it was meant to teach her a lesson, however he found that the closer they became, the more difficult was to do. He felt as if he was betraying her somehow. He turned to look her in the eyes, "Teresa," he began, "there's something I have to tell you."

She looked at him, seeing the change in his expression and became instantly concerned. "Patrick, what is it?"

He thought about what he should say, tried to find the right words and just as he was about to confess, his brain changed direction and instead said, "Maria wants to come over to my place for a visit."

"That's great," she said, confused as to why he looked so serious, "isn't it?"

"Yeah...but you see, the thing is...I've been thinking about what you said he other day…you know, about the state of my house and...I know this is a big ask, and you can feel free to say no, I mean I'll understand…" He mentally kicked himself then, as not only had he chickened out but he was now babbling too.

"Patrick," Teresa cut him off, "do want me to help you straighten your place up?"

Patrick smiled sheepishly. God bless her for putting me out of my misery! He thought.

"Off course I'll help Patrick!" she said and her smile seemed to light up the room.

"Really?" he said, part relieved but he also felt even more guilty for asking her such a thing.

"After everything you've done for me? Sure! When is she coming over?"

"Well she said…"

Patrick was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. "Teresa!" a male voice called and Teresa stood up at once. Patrick saw in her face that she recognized the voice.

"Who is that?" he asked her quietly.

"Teresa!" he said again and then knocked on the door.

"It's James! My brother." She walked towards the door and opened it. "James?" she said upon seeing her brother standing there scowling at her.

"You gonna let me in or are we gonna have this conversation in the street?" he asked, his voice harsh, irritated and Teresa had no idea what had made him so upset.

"Err..yeah, come in." She told him as she invited him inside and then closed the door.

"James, what's this about? What's wrong?" she asked.

"What's wrong is your stupid pride!" he said.

"If this is about money, I've already asked Tommy for a loan…"

"Oh don't play dumb with me Teresa! You know very well what this about!"

She stopped walking just as they were approaching the living room and she stood just outside the door, turning around to face him. "Look, I really don't know what you're talking about, so instead of making me stand here and guess why don't you just tell me?" She did her best to keep her voice even but she could feel the anger slowly begin to simmer inside at the tone with which he spoke to her.

"Jack came to see me," he began and Teresa began to feel a sense of foreboding begin to form around her, like a dark cloud before a storm. "he told me about what happened!"

"Oh!" she said, quieter this time.

"For God's sake Teresa! He was only trying to help you and you had some thug beat him up! What the hell is wrong with you?" Just then they heard Patrick giggle in the background. James looked over his sister's shoulder and into the living where he noticed a man sitting on her couch, apparently listening to their conversation. "Who the hell are you?" James demanded.

Patrick got up and walked over to where the two of them stood, "Patrick Jane," he introduced as he extended his hand, his voice smooth, confident. "And I didn't beat him up, it was more like a warning shot across the bow!" he added.

James chose to not to shake his hand. "You? You're the jackass who hit him! Why don't you take a hike, this is a private conversation!"

"James!" Teresa interjected, "This is my house and I decide who stays and goes. He can stay! And as for Jack; he came to my house in the middle of the night started shouting, demanding I open the door and when I didn't he began throwing rocks at my window!"

James turned to her, his expression one of disapproval, "You always think the worst of him! You have done nothing but bad mouth him since your divorce! He was just trying to help you and you damn well need the help! That writing career of yours is going down the toilet just like your marriage did. You need to put aside your goddamn pride and either accept the help that's offered or find a proper job!"

Teresa almost stopped breathing at that comment. She could feel the years of pent up anger begin to come to the boil and her heart thumped loudly in her chest, sounding a call to arms that she couldn't ignore and before she knew it the words had come pouring out. "What do you know about my marriage?" She asked, her voice low and threatening, her eyes set like stones, fixed in a predatory gaze aimed squarely at her brother. "What do you know about my life? You only talk to me when you want something and God knows I've been there for you James! For you and Tommy! When our mother died who looked after you? Fed you, cared for you? Protected you from dad!" James' firm stance wavered as the truth of her words hit home. "But where were you…" she forced herself not to cry but she knew it was a futile endeavor, "where were you when I needed you huh? What did you tell me when I tried to talk to you about it? You told me that it's my fault my marriage wasn't working, that it was me who drove him to drink! Where were you when he beat me? Where were you when I was two months pregnant and he hit me so badly, pointed a freaking gun at me and scared me so much that I lost my baby! Where were you James?" Her tears ran down her cheeks, hot droplets of anger scorching her cheeks before falling to the floor. "Where were you?"

James just stood there for a few seconds, eyes wide in shock, his words stuck in his throat; he could not believe what he was hearing, until he saw the pain in her eyes and he knew she was telling the truth. "Teresa I…" he moved towards his sister and enveloped her in an embrace, his own eyes rapidly filling with tears. "I didn't know, I didn't know! Why didn't you tell me?"

"You wouldn't have believed me, you always took his side, I couldn't face any more of it, it already hurt so much!" she told him between sobs.

"I'm sorry, Teresa I'm so sorry." He whispered.

As Patrick watched he felt his heart break into a million pieces and he too fought back the tears, but at the same time he was glad that she had told her brother the truth. He saw her standing there, tears flowing from her eyes and all he wanted to do then was hold her in his arms and kiss her head until she calmed down, but he knew this was now a private family moment so he silently walked out of the living room, into the kitchen and out through the back door, a silent pride welling up inside his heart for the woman who was becoming more and more important to him with each passing day.