6.

The past couple of days have been horrible.

Teresa has spent them confined to the four walls of her hotel room, spiralling, contemplating what the hell she is meant to do. On the flip side of the same coin, Patrick has spent them watching the front door to his tea shop, hoping that the next person to push it open would be her. It has not once been her.

When she got back from the carnival, she had a shower that was so hot it made her skin turn red because she needed something to distract herself from the hideous feeling forming in the pit of her belly. She didn't do anything wrong, not really. It isn't like she kissed him or even considered kissing him or something more. Yet still when Marcus rang her after ten o'clock, she ignored it, worried that the tone of her voice may give something away.

She did talk to him the morning after. She called him up after a sleepless night at around six in the morning knowing that he would be getting ready for work even though it is a Saturday. "We are so close. I can feel it!" He had excitedly exclaimed despite the early hour, and she misses that feeling, of getting close to catching the bad guy. It is something she wants more than anything, but she knows she cannot have it. It is bad that she is jealous of her fiancé when she is meant to just be pleased for him and his success.

She told him about her sleepless night without specifying the reason and once again he suggested the pills, realising by now that there is zero chance of her talking to a shrink. So she gave in, and that night tried a sleeping pill from a bottle that was rattling at the bottom of her suitcase. It knocked her out pretty quick, but the side effect was her dreams were plagued by demons turning them into nightmares, but it was like she was trapped in them, she couldn't wake up. It wasn't nightmares about the pickle she has found herself in or her guilt but a compilation of different car accidents with her experiencing the impact of each and every one.

The first was her accident at work, in a car chase that went the worst way possible. It replayed to her some of the poorest elements of her recovery: the surgeries, the stitches, the days trapped in her bed. The details were mostly accurate apart from Cho being one of her doctors and it being set in Sacramento rather than the outskirts of Los Angeles. Then the rest of the nightmare turned even weirder. Showing her the car accident that killed her poor mother. She thinks from the tear stains on her cheeks when she eventually woke that she did in fact cry in her sleep. The final accident was probably the most upsetting. It was Teresa at the age she is now driving her younger brothers but as kids to the carnival. This didn't happen. The time she did take them to the carnival they walked the two miles to the park, and she almost had to carry little Jimmy home. In her dream they were chattering and were all excitable, but then a truck driven by her father hurtled into them. Not one of her three brothers responded to her cries.

Last night she didn't use a sleeping pill which meant she barely slept but that seemed the better choice. Instead she turned on the lights and read through some of her favourite (least terrible) property listings that ended up being scattered across the bed. At some point she did manage to nod off as she woke to bright light whilst lying on top of many papers. She wants to do this for him, she decides whilst holding onto three in particular. As soon as the various estate agents opened, she was ringing them up, booking appointments and today she will be visiting them all, hoping her leg allows her to make it to the end. Maybe she should have brought her stick with her.

It is just after ten o'clock when she finds herself in downtown Sacramento stood outside a three-bedroom house that was built only a few years ago. What immediately hits her is how noisy the surrounding area is which could explain the surprisingly low asking price for such a lovely and modern property. "Teresa, it is good to see you again." The estate agent, Rob, greets, who was one that she met the other day. The greasy one who was terribly flirty but unfortunately for her, two of the properties she is seeing today are his. "Shall we head in?"

She thought the experience would be dreadful – and not just because of her company and her poor mood – but because of how unenthusiastic she has been about the property hunt. However, as her hand glides over the stone surface to the kitchen she does start to imagine living in such a lovely space. The master bedroom is quite something, it is roomy with an en suite that is almost as nice as her one at the hotel. The building appears light and that is something which is very important to her. She spent too long in a gloomy hospital ward that it made her realise how vital natural light is. "This second bedroom could be perfect for kids because of its size and how close it is to the main bedroom." And suddenly the bubble is burst. Perhaps, she should count her lucky stars that this guy is no longer hitting on her as much and he is finally acknowledging that she is not a single woman.

Teresa hums somewhat noncommittedly, the small smile falling from her face. As she walked around this house, appreciating the neatly laid wooden floor and spacious garage, she wasn't envisioning the details of her future. She wasn't thinking about the meals she could serve for her family in the brilliant kitchen, the second bedroom in her mind was turning into a home gym so that she could improve her strength and get to a fitness level where she is happy, and she didn't once think of Marcus. It isn't like she could even afford this place without him. This should probably be enough to tell her what she really wants. "Any questions or are you ready to move onto the other property?" She feels depleted at the notion of heading to another one, but Teresa Lisbon doesn't leave tasks uncompleted. She is better than that.

"No questions spring to mind." She replies and he appears shocked at this, but she supposes that not many people view properties with zero questions.

Rob drives her to the next house which is about twenty-five minutes away out of the heart of the city. It is much quieter and certainly much more suitable for a family. She does note though that he doesn't once mention the word family or children whilst professionally showing her around. Maybe he spotted how she closed up when saying them earlier. This house is not as modern but it's still quite new with a practical open plan living area and even a small garden. "This place is obviously cheaper than the place deep in the city and that is mainly because of its location. It has only had one other owner." She has been living amongst the hustle and bustle of a city all her life. From growing up in Chicago to going to college in Seattle to living in the craziness of L.A., and obviously the long stint she spent in this very city. It seems a little odd being away from the action, but she thinks she could get used to the quietness – it is not like she has to be in the centre for work.

"I like it." She murmurs and it is almost like Rob releases a sigh of relief. He has probably found her quietness disconcerting and fair enough. "I will run it by Marcus."

"Awesome!" He says, suddenly quite pumped at the prospect of a sale. "Is there anywhere else you want to see today?"

"I've got another appointment in an hour for a different property." She reveals and some of that previously displayed delight disappears from his face. Marcus would like it here and he would definitely be joyous that she has made some kind of headway, but her mind has abruptly begun to piece some clues together. Her and Marcus have drifted and potentially catastrophically so. She is struggling to work out though if it was like that before she arrived back in Sacramento or if a certain tea shop owner has something to do with her change of heart. And suddenly she is angry. "Actually Rob can you do something for me?" The words come out before she really has a chance to think rationally but of course the man agrees with great interest that it makes her think that she isn't doing something rash. And she leaves him to his task, turning down his offer to drive her back into the city because she needs some air plus the time alone.

Teresa ends up missing her final appointment and instead she finds a park about a fifteen-minute walk from the house she has just been shown around. She wanted to walk further but an ache in her leg started to make its presence known and she gave up. She hates giving up. If anyone saw her now, with her head in her hands whilst sitting on a park bench, they will think she has given up.

It doesn't make any sense to her. She came to Sacramento for this two-week jaunt with a clear aim. To find somewhere to build a future with her fiancé because she didn't think she had any other purpose anymore. It hasn't been the most varied nine days of her life, but she has felt herself relax, let go and just be Teresa. When in the presence of Patrick at his little tea shop, she stopped thinking that she had no reason for her existence because her career is done. He helped her to unwind, made her laugh and introduced her to new experiences. To most, new experiences of drinking lots of different types of tea and trying pizza pretzels wouldn't seem like much, but she has spent the past six months barely moving, isolated and in agony. These new experiences mean a lot to her but recalling the events of a few nights ago make her angry and although most of that anger is directed at herself, she is also upset with the man she shared it with.

She likes to think that she is a good person but spending an evening flirting with a man with her engagement ring heavy on her finger is more than a flaw. A year ago, she wouldn't even dream to do such a thing, she was dedicated to Marcus, but she thinks her accident and what they went through together has pulled them apart. She wonders whether he is having similar thoughts, but he seems so naïve and innocent at times that he probably doesn't. It isn't that she necessarily wants to be with Patrick Jane, he could just be a welcome distraction, but now she is fairly sure that she doesn't want to marry Marcus Pike. This realisation is truly sobering and the next is like having a bucket of ice-cold water thrown over her. What is the alternative?

Because without this purpose of finding a house and maybe starting a family, Teresa Lisbon feels like she is nothing and that doesn't turn her numb or empty but fuming with months of supressed fury…

It has been an odd few days for Patrick.

Initially it was guilt which was flooding him. Feeling bad that he upset Teresa, the first genuinely interesting person he has met in so long, but he also couldn't help thinking about his late wife. Of course it isn't cheating, and not just because nothing actually happened, but still he felt like he wronged her. That feeling fizzled away as the hours ticked by and he could think more realistically. Guilt was replaced by a combination of boredom and longing, but he has lost his usual energy, Franklin doing his best to pick up the pieces.

It is getting near to closing time and Patrick is the only person left in Charlotte's Tea Emporium, there isn't even a random lone customer to keep him company. The carnival in town has reduced the footfall along this particular street but he shouldn't be surprised by the quiet at this time. He has on occasion considered that perhaps he should be closing an hour earlier than previously specified. It is only really students who pop by at this time, studying or doing assignments in groups, but the end of term draws near, and their wallets are usually pretty empty at this time, so he has become accustomed with the dip of business. It is even worse when they head home for the holidays.

Patrick sighs at no-one as he pointlessly wipes down his counter for the fourth time in half an hour, hoping that someone does notice how sparkly clean it is tomorrow. Maybe I should just shut. He ponders, since he does in fact own the establishment, so he makes the rules, but he doesn't know if he wants to extend his time sitting on the couch tonight. His next sigh comes out as more of a groan, but he is relieved that the sound of the door opening followed by the bell chiming cuts him off and he is ready to plaster on a grin for the incoming customer, but on seeing who it is and how they fume with clear anger the smile doesn't come and he is suddenly speechless. "What is wrong with you?" Teresa straightaway accuses with her fists balled at her sides. "I am engaged. What gives you the right to flirt with me?" She isn't sure herself where this is coming from when she is more upset with herself and her own behaviour more than anything, but she lets the words come tumbling out. "What was that the other night?"

He remains silent for a few beats, processing her questions but being completely baffled as to how to answer them. He doesn't think he did anything wrong. "Do you want some tea?" So he goes the other way.

"No I don't want tea!" She shouts in reply but then her shoulders slump in defeat and vulnerability takes over. She is clearly exhausted, and it doesn't take a genius to work this out. The black bags lining her green eyes, the fatigued body language and the letting down of her walls show him that. He may have only known her for… nine days but he has a strong inkling that she tends to try and hide the real her. She has probably had to during her years of working in law enforcement with all those men who refuse to discuss feelings. Toxic masculinity. It shouldn't be a surprise that it could have infected her too. The uncomfortable quiet has a shaking hand tucking a loose lock of dark hair behind her ear and her bottom lip begins to tremble and even though he has just been shouted at, he wants to help her. "I just… don't know what to do." Teresa sorrowfully admits as a lone tear cascades down her cheek and it causes the dam to break. All day she has managed not to cry but now she allows the tears to fall freely. She doesn't think she could stop them even if she tried.

"Teresa…" He sadly mutters, grabbing a few napkins from behind the counter before joining her on the other side without even hesitating. "How about you take a seat, and we can talk properly?"

"No, no." She asserts, refusing to even take the napkins from him to wipe at her eyes. "This is wrong. This is wrong!" Now a different kind of vulnerability takes over – panic.

Symptoms of laboured breathing, sweating, and swaying on her feet all exhibit in front of him and he feels useless at this moment in time. He wants to snake an arm around her waist in both reassurance and to ensure that she doesn't topple over. He wants to aid her through her panic, requesting she mirrors his own deep breaths. He wants to hug her to show that she isn't alone in this turmoil. After his wife and daughter passed and he hit rock bottom, he had no-one but psychiatrists to help him through similar symptoms. Patrick lost count the number of times he lost all control whilst curled up in a ball on the floor of his old family home. However, he believes making any physical contact with her or asking her to follow his breathing won't be welcome. She is too overcome with guilt and anguish, but he must try something. "Hey, we've not done anything wrong." So he attempts to calm her with just his words and the soft tone he utters them with. "We went to a carnival together. That's it. You have no reason to feel guilty."

"Maybe not about this." She huffs dismissively but the action seems to help her beathing, so she takes in a deep breath before releasing it slowly, visualising a balloon deflating. "I do about the thoughts in my head." She finally takes one of the napkins and hastily unwraps it so she can press it to both of her eyes, not caring if it causes her mascara to smudge. She has already lost her dignity at this point, but she does appear to be minutely calmer.

The sound of the door opening again breaks their bubble and Patrick becomes annoyed, a big juxtaposition to his relief when it opened just minutes before. The unwanted interruption makes Teresa turn her body properly away from it, hiding the mess she is in. "Sorry pal, we are closed." Jane tells the unwelcome visitor quite curtly, not bothered because it isn't someone who he recognises. It is nice that he doesn't mind turning away business for her, she thinks, as she dabs under her eyes, forcing herself to be stiller because of the company.

"Teresa?" And she senses any remaining air getting knocked out of her lungs. "Teresa, what's wrong?" Marcus rushes up behind her, recognising her attire and immediately wraps his arms around her, spinning her to face him in the process. She buries her face in his neck, not for comfort but to hide her mortification. It doesn't take a detective to work out who this guy is and Patrick tenses at the intrusion. "Baby, what's wrong? Grace said I would probably find you here." That answers one of the many questions floating around her head but still she can't find her voice. "What have you done to upset her bud?" Jane waves his hands in defence and her fiancé's blame has her pushing away from his form, ready to defend the other man who is now back safely behind his counter.

"He's not done anything. I just… got overwhelmed by the house hunting again. Let's just go." She rushes, surprisingly easily and her skin begins to burn because of the effortless lie which rolled off her tongue.

Marcus appears dumbfounded. He honestly has no idea of what to do or say in this moment, so he takes a second and just rubs a hand down her arm. It should feel nice, it used to feel nice, but it doesn't. Not anymore. "I was hoping we could have some tea? Like in Morocco." The mention of the vacation that brought her so much joy should have a soothing effect, but instead a queasiness floods her as her stomach ties in knots. "We could have a chat about-"

"They were about to close." She interjects.

"I can stay open a little longer." Jane states, wanting to make sure she is alright before she leaves but also curious to witness these two together. "Take a seat and I will come over to take your order." All Teresa can do is gawp at the offer, finding it unbelievable that he is being so hospitable after her minor freak out. When she catches her fiancé's eyeline again, he is gazing at her questioningly, appearing hopeful that she will do exactly what Patrick said and take a seat so they can talk. He has been so worried about her meanwhile she has been gallivanting with a man who she barely knows.

It takes all her strength to sit down at the nearest table, not the one which she prefers but it is like she is unable to formulate sentences to say otherwise. "It's a nice place." Marcus praises, doing a sweep of the tea shop. "Very different to Morocco." She knows he is just filling the quiet now, he does it to fight awkwardness more than anything, something she learnt from their second date which was nowhere near as successful as their first, but they persisted anyway. She always thought her tenacity paid off because she found a wonderful man who loves her and wants to spend the rest of his life with her, but now it feels like a curse because she is probably going to cause him pain.

Her green eyes finally find his dark ones and he reaches across the table to entwine their fingers lovingly to show his adoration, but she currently finds his intense gaze somewhat scrutinising. It is too much. And all with Patrick Jane standing just meters away. "Why didn't you tell me that you were coming?" Teresa asks once discovering her voice, accidently sounding very sharp.

"I wanted to surprise you." He smiles and runs his thumb over knuckles in attempt to relax her. She does sense herself begin to lose some of that unwanted tension. "We wrapped up the Wilcox case and I've been allowed some leave meaning I can stay with you for two nights." She remembers that feeling of closing a case. The buzz, the tiredness, the tastiness of case closed pizza. It was particularly good with Cho, Grace, and Rigs… but it seems a long time ago now. "I thought we could talk about our future, but I don't want to stress you out."

"What can I get you both?" Jane interrupts, timing his disturbance perfectly and she wonders if he was listening in to achieve this. "Are you a tea drinker, Marcus?"

"You know my name." It isn't a question, it is a statement, accompanied by the furrowing of his brow.

"Teresa told me about you." He calmly replies with a small smile, but it isn't genuine, she can tell because it doesn't reach his blue eyes. "She has been wonderful company. You are a very lucky man."

"I know I am." Marcus murmurs and gives her hand a squeeze with her lips tugging upwards into a smile. "I proposed to her in Rabat in Morocco. We had this lovely mint tea there… do you have something like that?"

"I have a Marrakech mint tea."

"That would be perfect, we will have some of that." We.

Patrick swiftly grasps that the ugly, green emotion which has washed over him is jealousy. He is jealous of Marcus and jealous about his relationship with Teresa. Shit. "I will bring it over." He manages to utter but it comes out sort of strangled. This isn't picked up by his newest customer whereas she tilts her head to peer up at him, her brow dipping ever so slightly. She noticed. Of course she noticed. All he can do is walk away.

When she looks back at the man sitting opposite her, he is resuming his inspection of his surroundings, still rubbing kind circles into her knuckles absentmindedly. He really is unfazed by her newfound friendship with Patrick, and this assures her that perhaps what she was doing isn't so bad. She has had plenty of male friends like Cho, Rigsby, Abbott and Wiley. Why should a new one perturb her fiancé? "So, you closed the case?" She breaks the silence, feeling a hundred times calmer than she did five minutes ago.

"Late last night. Found Wilcox and her henchmen and they turned on her. It was fantastic, Teresa." He talks quickly with great excitement that she used to share, an excitement she more than misses, she is starved of it. "Wrapped up the paperwork first thing then hopped on a flight down here." He then lifts up their conjoined hands and kisses the back of hers, once, affectionately, letting his lips linger against her hot skin.

"Well done." She says with genuine appreciation. "Wilcox is a big collar."

"She certainly is, and this case has caught the attention of senior powers."

"Oh?"

"Your tea…" This time Patrick's interruption is less wanted. Him sliding the tray onto the table is clunky and it makes the teaspoons clatter against the saucers that they are resting on. "It is one of my favourites."

"Thanks man." Pike says, assisting him in removing the items from the tray. "Appreciate you staying open."

Teresa watches the short interaction between the two men with intrigue. It is nothing much, just the serving of some tea but they both appear different. Marcus is more laidback than usual and there is something changed in his aura. It is like he has a bigger presence than usual, and she doesn't know why, she considers that it has something to do with what he has not long mentioned. Patrick, on the other hand, has lost his spark. There isn't a glimmer in his eyes or a spring in his step. He is subdued and he barely glances her way before leaving with the tray tucked under his arm. "What were you saying about catching the attention of senior powers?" She can't stop the interrogation from leaving her, but her fiancé is composed and unvexed.

"I will tell you later."

It is a pleasant relief to find that Marcus hired a car at the airport, so she doesn't have to get in yet another cab. He drives them back to her hotel making a pitstop at a fast-food drive thru so they can have some greasy burgers. He offered to take her out some place nice, but she is exhausted. Exhausted from barely sleeping, from the house hunt and from the emotional peaks of the day. They can go out for dinner properly tomorrow. "This room is lovely." He praises when they arrive at her room where he leads her to the edge of the bed. He is straightaway on his knees, untying the laces to her boots and carefully pulling them off her feet. "How's your leg?"

"A little sore." She admits and his fingertips dance down the bottom of her skinny jeans, not wanting to press in case he hurts her. He then slowly rises to his feet, leaning so close to her that the scent of his after shave tickles her nose and before she can even register what is happening his lips are on hers with one of his hands weaving into her hair. He didn't try to kiss her at the tea shop or in the car, he waited until now when things were private and despite her inner turmoil all day, she does feel something stir within her.

"We haven't you know… since my accident."

"What?!" But could this want be from months of celibacy?

Marcus pulls away with a trace of a smirk on his lips but still he doesn't increase the distance between them. "How about I run you a bath?" She thinks she can detect the vibrations of his chest as he asks his question in a deep, sultry tone.

"I won't say no." He softly runs his thumb over her cheek once before leaving her to head into the en suite bathroom.

"I bet Patrick would give you a good time if you asked."

"Grace!" And this memory replaying in her mind answers her previous question about celibacy. No. She tells herself, shaking her head and anxiously dragging her fingers through her thick, dark hair. "Honey!" She calls out, needing to shout over the voices in her head. "What did you mean earlier about getting the attention of senior powers?" He doesn't answer immediately, the first response she receives is the turning on of the bath taps which creates a gentle rhythm as background noise of the tub slowly but surely filling up.

His lack of response does begin to trouble her, and she is about to call him again when he returns to the bedroom with an indescribable expression etched into features. It is like he nervous but mainly excited and proud. His face may be unsure, but his demeanour is straight, bold, not even a hint of a hunch in his posture. He is pleased of himself but apprehensive about having this conversation, the ex-detective in her deduces and it makes her uneasy. "I have been offered a job. A huge promotion..." She is about to congratulate him with a grin on her face, feeling sincerely quite pleased for him, until he continues his announcement. "The job is in D.C." And she senses her smile start to falter. "I was thinking we could relocate there instead of here."

Previously when they have spoken about their future relocation plans, they thought here would be perfect because it is an area she loves and is familiar with, and she would have Grace nearby. He could continue working at the L.A. office in the week, the plane journey is not very long, and he could stay in FBI provided accommodation. Of course it isn't ideal to have that distance, but she hates L.A. and has no desire to live there when she doesn't have the job to keep her there. Moving to D.C. is a whole different challenge. "D.C.? I don't know anyone there."

"You can make friends. I am sure some of the wives of the new team will be nice enough." It is like he has it all thought out. He has been saying that a big part of her trip was to find somewhere for them to live for their future but now he is musing that their future is elsewhere. She feels nothing short of blindsided.

"Is that all I am now? A wife of an FBI agent?" Her questions come out bitter, the resentment aimed at him but mainly the predicament she has found herself in.

Earlier in the tea shop, her terseness didn't appear to bother him. He was too wrapped up in their reunion and playing with her hands to even perceive the snap in her tone. The tensing of his jaw and steeliness in his eyes shows her that this time she hasn't been so lucky. "No. We would have to be married for that." She doesn't think she has ever seen him so exasperated at her before. His frustration is clear, a frustration which she didn't previously realise he carried.

Teresa has to bite her tongue at this particular barb. She thought that he was fine with the postponement of the wedding, in fact if memory serves her right it was his idea in the first place, but he clearly isn't okay with it and now she is wondering if her thought earlier when sitting on a park bench was correct. He has had similar thoughts; he too has realised that they have drifted. "What do you want to do, Marcus?"

Some of his irritation dissipates at her query and it is replaced by confusion. He hasn't heard her be so direct with him about their future plans before and he doesn't know whether this shout worry him or not. His features slacken and he uncertainly scratches at his jaw with four swift swipes. "I want to take the promotion, the better job, the corner office, the increased pay and move to D.C." He honestly replies. "I want to marry you and have you there with me."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?" He retorts, his confusion increasing by the second.

"Why do you want to marry me?" She isn't sure where all this confidence is coming from, but she is riding the wave whilst she has it.

Marcus sharply takes in a breath, confusion now losing a battle to agitation, and he shifts anxiously on the spot. "Why wouldn't I want to marry you?" His voice is small and quiet, the self-assurance he had when revealing his news now long gone. All Teresa can think about though whilst witnessing this change is: Does he want to marry me because he loves me or because he doesn't like the alternative of being alone?

Perhaps this question is circling inside her head because it is how she feels. "That's not an answer."

"Teresa-"

"You have this plan for our future but to me it just seems to be what you want. I think you see it as the easy option!" She doesn't mean to raise her voice; it happens involuntarily thanks to the adrenaline coursing around her system. All he can do is scoff and that hurts her, a pang strikes her heart. "I think you see me as a convenience." She whispers, staring down at her hands now and the green nail varnish which gleams in the low light of the room. It has chipped at the top of her right thumb nail from where she was biting it with anxiety over the past few days. She runs the pad of her left thumb over the damage, her mother's voice in her head telling her that pretty girls don't bite their nails.

At the carnival, she felt beautiful in herself, helped by Patrick's kind comment. She doesn't feel beautiful today, she feels ugly. "I don't see you as a convenience."

"Can you honestly say that you love me?" Teresa asks, her eyes now snapping back up to meet Marcus'. "I wouldn't blame you if you said no." She monotonously declares and she observes the perplexity return to his face. It is something that she can't deal with right now, she grasps by the tightening of her chest and the constricting of her throat. "I am going to have a bath." She voices and gets to her feet with a thud, ignoring the shooting pain in her bad leg as she passes him by.

He doesn't say another word.

/

A/n What is this? An author's note at the end of a chapter?

Thank you again for reading so far. I have fully planned out this fic now and it will be ten parts in total. I am definitely on a roll with it and it has been enjoyable to write. It was fun writing this chapter because of putting a spanner in the works... Marcus is a spanner. I mean THE spanner. *clears throat*.