Hello everybody!
Here's the new chapter, two weeks later than when it should have been posted. I've been a bit busy with university's tasks, I'm sorry about that.
Hope you'll like it!
CHAPTER 7. Hands intertwined.
She looked at the striking clock she had placed at one side of the television for the tenth time that night. She turned her body, slightly sleepy, to face the ceiling. She stared at the stars shining against it and smiled as she remembered when, years ago, she and Tommy had decided to put them up so that little Annie could sleep peacefully. She looked at the clock again, hoping that the numbers would advance. But it wasn't. It was half-past four in the morning and she couldn't get to sleep.
In just a few hours, she had an appointment with the psychologist. After the stunt she had pulled, which landed her in the hospital, and seeing the look of worry and guilt on Jane's face, she decided to seek help. She herself knew that she had improved since she had been found. And she had improved a lot. At first, she repelled any man, even women. She would not allow anyone to come near her, except Charlotte. Gradually, and by living with Patrick, who decided to move in with Charlotte in Lisbon's apartment to keep an eye on her, their relationship improved. First some light touching, then some caresses, while the consultant was attentive to her every reaction. All this made the woman overcome her fears to some extent and let him get closer and closer. Now, a month later, and thanks to her willpower, she was allowing Jane to come closer to her, to hug her, or even to hold her hand.
She sighed. She pushed aside the sheets and, dressed only in Jane's shirt, the one she stole from him before she was at Haffner's mercy, she went to the kitchen in search of coffee. She tried not to make too much noise. Instead of turning on the coffee pot, she opened a cupboard and took a small envelope on which was written in capital letters: Coffee with milk and sugar, mild flavor. She also took out a cup decorated on the outside and the milk carton from the kitchen. When she had the mug full, he went to the microwave to heat it up, but immediately turned around and bent down to pull out a small saucepan. If she heated it on the stove, it would make less noise than the microwave. She adjusted the fire and, with a firm but delicate step, headed for her bedroom, where, for the past month, Patrick Jane had been spending his nights.
Lisbon offered him her room when they arrived. She took care of emptying a couple of drawers and making space in her closet for him to store his clothes. She settled into the room reserved for his niece, in a small bed. At first, he refused on the grounds that it was her apartment and he would settle for the couch but, at the agent's insistence, he eventually agreed.
She leaned the right side of his body against the door frame, facing the double bed. On it, she could observe the wonderful figure of the man. They were at the gates of summer and the temperature was somewhat high. Jane was wearing his boxers, along with a short-sleeved v-neck t-shirt. Thanks to the small flashes of light coming from one of the street lamps, she could see his face. His hair was slightly tousled and beautiful curls were falling over his forehead. She smiled at the sight and, after making sure the man was still asleep, returned to the kitchen to drink her coffee. With any luck, the milk would be hot by now and she wouldn't have to wait much longer to enjoy the drink.
A morning yawn forced him to squint. He shook his hair a little with his hand and brushed back the locks that fell over his forehead, failing to keep them from falling out again. Step by step, he reached the kitchen, and once there, a smile formed on his face. Lisbon was asleep, lying on the sofa in the living room next to the dining room. He placed a light kiss on her forehead and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. He pondered the idea of taking her in his arms and carrying her to bed so she would sleep better, but immediately rejected it. If he picked her up, she might wake up and not go back to sleep. Today they had a busy day ahead of them, and she needed to be rested. Besides, the dark circles under her eyes were still present, a sure sign that she still couldn't rest well.
He drank his tea quietly, in small sips, with long pauses in between, during which he admired the woman's face. Memories of the day they found both of them came into his head, and a feeling of guilt that he had experienced long before invaded his soul. In turn, he began to visualize images of their first night together and his lips curved upward again. He wished that everything was okay, that nothing had happened and that his life would go on from the next morning, when he awoke to find himself alone, in the attic, without his shirt. But he wished that the threat of Red John did not exist and that when he woke up, the first thing he would see was Teresa's smiling face, just inches away from him.
A sweet voice brought him out of his thoughts. Charlotte was approaching him, carrying a backpack on her back and a folder in her hand. She kissed him on the cheek.
"I'm leaving now," she whispered so as not to wake the woman on the couch, "I'm meeting Jake and Elisa for breakfast."
"Okay, honey. If you need anything, let me know. We won't be home when you get back anyway. Do you have your keys with you?"
"Yes, I do. And likewise, if you need anything, call me," she kissed his cheek again and disappeared behind the apartment door.
He knew her daughter was trying to forget everything; her face showed it every morning. However, she was willing to remember and help in any way she could to help Teresa. He smiled again at the thought of how alike the two most important women in her life were. They were sensitive, beautiful, with the same character and with great willpower of their own, capable of doing anything to help someone else.
He took the last sip of his tea and rose from his chair. He put his mug and the one Lisbon had used a few hours earlier in the dishwasher and headed to her room in order to tidy up the house a bit. A hectic day had just begun.
She let the air out slowly. She swallowed saliva and grabbed the hand of his companion, who was not expecting that gesture. She placed his other hand on the door handle and turned it to enter the room where she would have to relive the traumatic experience she had suffered. Where she would have to bring out her greatest fears.
The first thing that caught her attention was the beautiful view directly in front of her. A huge window that doubled as a wall welcomed them. She felt a slight squeeze on her left hand and then, she assured herself that she would make it. Whatever it took, she would be her again.
"Nice view, isn't it?" asked a man who suddenly appeared.
They both turned in the direction the voice came from and she felt her body tighten. She could no longer turn back.
"It is," Jane replied, to her silence.
"Go ahead and sit down. Don't just stand there."
The older man, about 60 years old, with a shiny bald head and features on his face that made him more sympathetic, pointed toward the large sofa. She watched as he swiveled his chair around to face the couch, rather than the typical couch in every office.
"Teresa Lisbon, if I'm not mistaken."
She knew the doctor was trying to make conversation, and to get her to relax.
"That's me," she replied, with a fake smile on her face. She noticed again a small squeeze in her hand and was grateful that she had come with Jane. Though she knew that sooner or later, she would wish she hadn't.
"Well, I'm Dr. Ross, but you can call me Ethan. Dr. Ross was my father," he waited a few seconds and when he noticed the affirmation from both of them he continued, "First of all, I want you to know that you are free to leave here whenever you want. If at any time you feel pressured, or don't want to continue, just say so and we'll stop the session until the next day, or forever. That's for you to decide."
She sighed heavily as she nodded her head. Jane caressed her hand tenderly, trying to convey her strength.
Attentive to that gesture, Ethan wrote down several things in his notebook.
"Well, now, will you introduce us?" he asked, looking at Jane.
"This is Patrick Jane," she answered, a bit stunned by the question.
"And how long have you known each other?"
"About eleven years ago, give or take."
"How did the two of you met?"
The Doctor checked what he assumed. The woman was completely devoted to her companion. So much so that, little by little, she relaxed with Ethan's trivial questions. Jane glanced at her from time to time and she smiled at him. A gesture he also pointed out.
"I can see that you have been quite unbearable," he remarked, when Lisbon had finished her story about Jane. He laughed a little flushed.
"What can I do," he replied cheerfully, seeing the small smile that struggled to leave her face.
After a few minutes in silence, the Doctor continued:
"Now, tell me. Why are you here?"
Several minutes passed in silence again, until Teresa decided to speak. But before doing so, she fixed her eyes on Jane's, asking for permission with her eyes. His wife would appear in the middle, and she knew how much he suffered every time she remembered it.
"Shall I start at the beginning?" she asked, with a hint of irony. If she did, it would take more than one session. At the man's nod, she leaned her head on Jane's shoulder. He draped an arm over her shoulders. She took a deep breath, and the words began to pour out of her mouth, as if they had a life of their own. And so it went for nearly half an hour, until the key moment came. A lump settled in her throat.
"Go on," he encouraged her.
"Until he gave me two choices. Sleep with him, or watch him kill Charlotte and Jane."
After saying those words, she pulled away from Jane, put her feet on the floor and covered her face with her hands. But not just for herself, but because of how guilty it would make the consultant feel. Ethan, hearing the whole story, looked at Patrick. His jaw was clenched, his fists were white from the pressure he was exerting, and his eyes were bathed in tears that he quickly wiped away as soon as they fell down his cheek.
"And you chose the first one," he pointed to say, being sure of the answer.
"I couldn't do otherwise," she looked up at the Doctor.
Jane opened his mouth to protest. But he immediately closed it again. Whatever he said, it wouldn't make things any better now.
"What do you intend to do with these sessions?"
"To be me again. To be able to approach my co-workers, without feeling that they are going to abuse me too. To be able to walk down the street calmly, without fear. To be able to recover my relationship with Jane. To get my life back."
She stargazed at the stars plastered on the ceiling again. She thought about the day she'd had, as the Doctor's words floated through his head. "If you have it all figured out, all you need to do is execute it" "Believe it or not, you've come a long way. You are the first woman I have seen in my 30 years as a psychologist, that after a situation like the one you have been through you are able to approach a man without previous help" "I have been able to see that you have enormous willpower. All you have to do is to bring it out" "Try to get closer to your partner. I know it's difficult, and it will take time to take effect. But try it."
Try it, whispered a voice in her head. Go on, try. Now it was her mother's voice, speaking to her. She smiled at the memory and was surprised that her head could recreate it, after so many years of not hearing it.
Determined, she got out of bed. She placed her clothes forward and left the room being careful not to make any noise. Charlotte was sleeping right in the next room. Once across the wide hallway, she stood in front of the door to the bedroom where Jane slept. She took a deep breath, opened the door, and crossed the threshold. After making sure he was still asleep, she gently closed the door and approached the edge of the bed that was free. She stood there, for several seconds, admiring her companion; the man who would do anything for her. She smiled as she tucked her hair to one side and pushed aside the sheets that covered that side of the bed. She climbed in and curled up on one end as she listened to Patrick's rhythmic breathing behind her. She closed her eyes, feeling relieved. But just as she was about to fall asleep, an arm came around her waist and a body pressed against her back. Her breathing began to quicken as she felt Jane's breath on the back of her neck. Several minutes passed, until she realized that he was sound asleep. Then she forced himself to calm down. Gradually, her body calmed down and her breathing kept pace with his. She smiled as she felt victorious and intertwined one of her hands next to Jane's, which rested on her belly. And so, a few minutes later, she fell asleep.
For his part, Jane was concentrating on pretending to be asleep. Despite being able to control his feelings easily, he wished he could get out of bed and start jumping for joy as Lisbon intertwined her hand with his.
Just as they were about to leave the Doctor's office, the Doctor asked him to go in alone. He told him that, little by little, Lisbon would open up and that he should be patient and wait. That he could not force her. But he could give her a push. The Doctor warned him that he should watch her every reaction, and that if she tensed or was reluctant, he should give her a cautious space.
When he saw Lisbon entering his room, he smiled slightly. But he immediately wiped it off his face when he heard the light footsteps approaching the bed. He pretended to doze off and adjusted his breathing, forcing himself to close his eyes. Soon after, he noticed how the bed sank slightly on one side and a body invaded the mattress. He smiled again and waited a few minutes without moving. Then, he approached her and put one of his arms around her. He noticed how her body tensed at his touch, and how her breathing quickened. Time passed and she remained the same, so he decided to wake up suddenly, and apologize for what had happened. But then, a hand intertwined with his, and her breathing miraculously calmed.
He smiled again.