Author's notes: Thank you to everyone for your reviews, follows and favs. I really appreciate all your support. I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Teresa comes out of the bathroom to find Patrick laying some pillows on the floor.
"What are you doing?"
"There's only one bed."
Teresa looks at him, her heart twisting inside.
"Is that what you want?"
"I thought it's what you would want?"
Teresa picks up the pillows and places them on the bed.
"There's no need to sleep on the floor, this bed's more than big enough."
"Are you sure?"
"Patrick, I only put you in a different room for your sake, I thought it would be better for you."
She fingers the deep blue quilt, looking at it as if it's the most important thing in the world.
"I don't mind you sharing my bed….I…I miss you."
She continues quickly:
"It will just be nice to feel you next to me, and hear you breathing."
She looks up at him.
"If you don't mind. I'm not asking anything of you."
Patrick nods in understanding, he remembers how much he hated being out of town and sleeping without Angela next to him, the bed seemed so big and empty.
"I don't mind. I just…I just…"
He shrugs.
"…just thought you would want it that way."
She smiles weakly at him.
"Thank you for being so thoughtful and willing to sacrifice a night's sleep, as I don't think you would have gotten much on that hard floor."
He responds with a crooked smile.
"Probably not."
"Madeline's taking the children to Fairyland while we go to the cemetery."
"Will it be all right leaving Maddy with, who to her, is a stranger? She's pretty young."
"Yea, I think so, she's used to day care. Madeline has my number if there's a problem."
Teresa pulls back the covers.
"I can go on my own if it'll be easier."
She stops what she's doing and looks at him.
"Is that what you want?"
He slowly shakes his head.
"I was thinking of Maddy."
"Madeline's really good with kids, I trust her with their lives, and Mimi's not in school tomorrow so she's going along."
Patrick's nodding.
"Good."
He pulls back the covers and climbs in to bed and Teresa follows. He lays down and gets up on his elbow, turning around to puff up his pillows some more. He lays down again and repeats the process, this time punching the pillows down and puffing them back up. Teresa lays on her side facing him and watches, knowing the routine well. He hates strange pillows, she'd taken the ones he'd used off her bed and put them on the bed in the guest room. For a man who's spent many nights in hotel/motel rooms, and couches, he's very fussy about his pillows. After the fifth time he lays down with a grunt. He looks over to her as if he's just remembered she's there. He gives her an embarrassed smile.
"Sorry about that."
"That's okay. Are you comfortable?"
"Not really."
She replies knowingly:
"Tomorrow will be better."
"I'll try not to snore."
"Don't worry about it, you don't snore. You told me that you trained yourself not to, all that sleeping on the couch in the office."
He puts his arms behind his head and looks at her.
"I sound like I was an ideal employee."
She smiles at him.
"Something like that."
"Do you snore?"
Teresa looks aghast.
"No, I do not!"
Patrick holds his hands up in surrender.
"Sorry, obviously a touchy subject."
He looks at her questioningly.
"I wonder why. Obviously hit on a sore spot."
He looks more closely at her.
"You do something when you sleep…mmm…you talk in your sleep…Yes..Oh and something else.."
Teresa looks away.
"No there isn't.
Patrick shrugs.
"Well I guess I'm about to find out."
"Hush, or you're back on the floor."
Patrick gets up on to his elbow and looks at her intently, she begins to squirm under his gaze.
"What?"
Patrick lays his head back down on to his pillow.
"Nothing. What time are we leaving tomorrow?"
"I thought around ten, traffic should be a little easier then."
Teresa moves on to her back, bringing up tomorrow changes the mood. She'd been enjoying the banter, it was almost like…..she doesn't allow herself to finish the sentence as tears threaten.
Patrick can tell from her breathing that the change in subject has upset her. He closes his eyes feeling like a heel. Why had he done that? Why had he panicked? It had been nice, talking to her, teasing her had felt easy. Looking at her she was relaxed, for the first time the pain was missing. It was replaced with love, she was looking at him the way she must usually look at him. It made her look more beautiful than usual. The thought shocked him, he didn't know where that thought came from, but there was no denying it, her eyes were alive, dancing as she teased him. They were mesmerizing even, when he tried to turn away, he found he didn't want to.
So he'd changed the subject, used his dead family, he can be such a jerk sometimes. He tunes into her breathing, it's steadier now, but still not relaxed. He pictures her with her eyes closed, her dark eyelashes laying delicately on her cheeks. He has to stop this, he's visiting his dead wife's grave tomorrow and his child. But he can't ignore that she's there next to him, just a few inches away. He can feel her body heat, her breathing, just that little bit lighter than his. He realises that he's unconsciously been trying to match his breathing with hers. If he moves his hand off his chest and stretched his fingers out, he would be able to touch her. He feels her move, she turns on to her side away from him, it feels like there's a chasm between them now. He turns on his side away from her too, hoping he can forget she's there. He closes his eyes and wonders if he'll fall asleep tonight.
Teresa doesn't know which is worse being so close to him, or so far away. They always fell asleep with her head on his chest and his arm around her shoulders. She would listen to the rhythm of his breathing, once they'd grown silent, and it would send her to sleep. Sometime during the night she would roll off and then he would curl up next to her, spooning without actually touching, as if he can't stay away from her, but knows he mustn't crowd her, so she can sleep.
She needs to get to sleep. Who knows what will happen tomorrow, he thinks he's visiting his family's graves but he's also visiting the place where he killed Red John.
She feels him move, adjusting his posture. The distance causes an ache in her stomach. She wants to move back, put her arms around his waist, lay her cheek against his back, feel his heat, his firm body against hers, letting her know that everything will be all right. She wonders if she should have just let him sleep on the floor.