Note: I'm not actually that satisfied with this chapter but I decided to finally publish it, because I don't want to get stuck trying to make this better. I hope you enjoy it, though.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.

- Go away!

The room was dark and cold. She wanted to hide in the shadows. Knocking on the door repeated.

- Talk to me, Teresa!

- Just leave me alone!

She was pacing back and forth, boiling with anger. He was the last person she wanted to see now.

Their latest case was really tough. An abusive father killed his own son and tried to frame their neighbour. Anything that could go wrong, did. A lot of annoying paperwork, AG on her back for some reason, Jane being his usual self but twice as annoying, and the worst of all – the father himself. He reminded her so much of her own dad that she got carried away and knocked him unconscious during an interview. Eventually, she got suspended and was now trying to deal with this mess.

- Lisbon, listen… - She heard his soft and patient voice and stopped in place. - I know that I'm probably the last person on earth you want to see, but I'm worried about you. What happened the other Sunday doesn't mean I'm not your friend or partner anymore.

She felt a sting in her stomach, but decided to ignore it. She played some records and sat on the couch and closed her eyes, hoping that Jane would give up eventually. The knocking and shouting repeated, but was silenced by the music. Suddenly, she heard his voice much clearer and opened her eyes.

- What the hell, Jane! How dare you pick my lock?! - She shouted.

- You haven't been answering my calls since you left the CBI. I needed to see you to make sure you're ok. - He answered calmly.

- Well, you see now that I'm fine and that I don't need your help. You can leave now. Goodnight. - She crossed her arms and sat back down on the couch.

- Can I at least get myself a cup of tea? - He asked, a little frustrated.

- Yeah, whatever. - She mumbled, not even looking at him. Her anger turned from heated hostility to a cold indifference.

After a minute he returned with two cups of steaming tea and sat next to her on the couch.

- What makes you so angry? - He asked after a while.

- A lot of things, Jane. A shitload of things.

- Do you want to talk about it?

- No, I don't. I just want you to drink your damn tea and leave.

- Fine, as you wish. - He replied, hoping to somehow get her to talk. - You're right, I shouldn't have picked your lock. I'm sorry.

He looked at her, trying to read her expression. Her eyes were closed and she held the cup in her hands.

- I also want to apologize for worsening the whole thing. You pulled an all-nighter because of me, filling the paperwork, and I didn't help you, even though I should've.

- Suck it up, it was not the first time I had to clean up after you. - She smirked. - At least we caught that bastard.

- Yeah…

Jane finished his tea and sat closer to her. She opened her eyes curiously, which was a sign for him that she had bought his apology. He knew it wasn't right to trick her like that, but she was too stubborn and proud to talk to him about this situation voluntarily.

- When I met you, I noticed a scar on your forehead. - He said. - I didn't ask you about it and then you started wearing bangs and I forgot. Now, with this case, I remembered it and have been wondering-

- Yeah, it's his job. - She caught him off emotionlessly.

- What happened?

- I don't remember. Probably some stupid shit like: the dinner was cold or I looked at him the wrong way. He got a glass bottle and smashed it on my head. I almost died. After that nuns at my school looked at me like I was a Satan's child because of my shaved head and this big scar.

- Did he beat you often? - Jane asked, shocked by her cold reply.

- Do you want more tea? - She stood up and went to the kitchen. She didn't hurry to come back to the living room, but eventually did.

- You know you need to talk about it with someone. - He tried to reason with her. - I think you'd rather it was me and not a therapist.

She put the cups on the table and started pacing again. He watched her carefully, hoping that she would open up. He knew keeping things inside wasn't a good idea.

- Alright, you really want to know how it was with my father? - She finally spoke, standing in the middle of the room, frustrated and just plain angry. - It was hell on earth, both physically and mentally. There were times when I skipped classes because I didn't dare to show up with a black eye or a cut lip. Everyday I wanted to run away, but couldn't leave my brothers, even though they had it easier. Everything I did was wrong. The house wasn't clean enough, the dinner wasn't tasty enough, my brothers didn't behave well enough. After my mother died I had to take her place and my father hated me for that. When my brothers grew up and my father killed himself, I finally left everything behind and never looked back.

Jane sat with his mouth opened. He didn't expect such outburst.

- Did I satisfy your curiosity? - She growled, clenching her fists.

- Teresa… I-

- Shut up, Jane. Just shut up. I don't want you to try and calm me down with your easy words. It's not gonna work, because not even you can help me. - She shouted. - I hated that bastard and the most stupid thing I did was cry everyday in the shower for a month after he died. Now my family hates me for leaving. And this son of a bitch, who killed his son, just-

A new song started playing. She looked at him blankly and he felt a shiver run down his spine. It was the song they danced to that Saturday evening. Her heart sunk into her stomach and she stared at him, searching for a hint of any emotion. But his face was stone cold. "He doesn't even care. It means nothing to him", she thought, though he was just shocked by the course of events. She ran up to the record player, took the vinyl out and smashed it on the floor.

Jane immediately stood up, worried and a bit guilty but he didn't know what for. She was breathing heavily and staring at the broken pieces. The song was still playing in her head. There were so many emotions in her heart that it was impossible to keep them inside any longer. Tears started falling down her cheeks, though she desperately tried to wipe them off. But they kept coming and her shoulders started to shake. She had no idea what was going on.

He walked up to her without any hesitation and tried to hug her, but she kept pushing him away and screaming to let her go. Smaller and weaker, she had no chance against his caring arms. As soon as she smelt his cologne and felt his warmth, she stopped fighting and hugged him tightly. She missed his touch so much.

A piercing cry filled the room and Jane's shirt became wet with her tears. She held onto him, her knees weak and trembling. For once she stopped thinking about anything and just cried, grateful for his presence.

Jane hated seeing her like this. He hated himself for being one of many reasons behind her tears.

- Shh, everything's gonna be alright. I don't know how that's gonna happen but I can promise you, it will. - He whispered in her ear, caressing her messy hair.

There were so many feelings in their hearts that they couldn't explain and weren't able to name. Even after she stopped crying, he didn't let her go. He was just starting to realize his true feelings for her. "If I had mistaken comfort for love then, why am I feeling so terrible now?", he thought, holding her close and feeling her breath on his neck.

- You're the strongest person I've ever known, Teresa. I can't believe how you managed to go so far without anyone's help or support. - He spoke. - You should know that you can always count on me. Despite what happened and what will happen, I'll always be your friend. You no longer have to be alone with your problems. Don't you ever forget that.

- Ok. - She answered weakly. Though she should've felt better after crying, she actually felt worse. She pulled away, already missing his warmth. - You're probably tired. You should head back home.

- Don't worry, Lisbon. I'm used to being sleep deprived. - He laughed, trying to cheer her up.

- No, really. You don't have to worry about me. I'm going to give myself a bath and then go to bed. Thank you, for… everything. - She smiled faintly.

- I'll call you tomorrow, ok?

- Ok.

- Sleep well.

- Patrick… Jane… Patrick. Jane. Jane. Patrick. It's weird – even when I repeat your name many times, it doesn't lose its sense like any other word would.

- You asked what made me so angry. You want to know the truth? It's you. You make me angry. And frustrated. And sad. And happy. So happy. I know you don't love me, but I do love you and I HATE that we can't be together. You don't even have to love me. You can pretend, you're good at that. I just- I just need you to hold me when I go to sleep. The bed seems so cold and empty now, even though you slept in it only two times. And you didn't even love me then. You told me. But you made me pancakes. How do you make pancakes for someone you don't love?

- W-why don't you love me? What did I do wrong? Am I not good enough? Am I too messed-up? Is it because I'm- is it because I'm not her?

- I hate him. If you don't kill him, I will. Did you say you didn't love me because of him? To make me fall out of love? It didn't work. Is your revenge more important than me? Of course it is. Because you loved herand not me. Because you still love her.

- I'm disgusting. I'm just like my father. Drunk and aggressive. No wonder you don't love me. I don't love myself. No one loves me and no one had ever loved me. Except my mum, but she was selfish enough to go to heaven and leave me on my own.

- I really shouldn't have drunk the whole bottle of wine by myself.

- You know what also makes me angry? That I try to be professional and cold and rational, but every time I see you I just can't stop thinking about you. About your touch, your lips… You. You're like some sort of disease and there's no cure for it. And THAT makes me angry. That you got under my skin and I can't do anything about it, though I try so hard. Why don't you leave me alone? Or love me? Please, choose one of those. Even not seeing you for the rest of my life is better than being so close TO you but not close WITH you.

- Why did you tell me that Friday night that you had fallen in love with me? Are you really that cruel and that good at lying?

- Patrick. Jane. Jane. Patrick.

- I wish I didn't love you. I wish you loved me.

"But I do love you".

- Jane, a word?

- What's up, Lisbon?

- Umm… When I called you the other night… My friend had a birthday party and… W-what did I-

- I'm actually glad you brought it up. Your obsession with Brad Pitt is quite alarming. You talked about him with such affection for the majority of voice messages you left me, just because some guy at the bar looked like him. The rest of it is incoherent noise or mumbling.

- Oh.

- Don't worry, your secret's safe with me, Lisbon. Though I should warn Brad about your love for him.

- Thanks… I guess?