A/N: Trigger warning: child abuse content below.

Chapter 17

The next day... Wednesday afternoon, 2:35 pm, Therapist's office

Lisbon's POV

Her mind was on Jane and everything going on between them and the case. She woke up alone this morning, his side of the bed cold to her touch. She'd been confused that he'd left without waking her; she'd expected him to try and love up on her, but he hadn't. She'd made a conscious decision then to restrain herself from making any attempts to contact him to find out where he was. When she got to work, she found him on his couch, lounging, cleanly shaven wearing a fresh suit. He'd greeted her with a twinkle in his eyes; that small gesture putting her concerns to rest about his absence from her bed. By all accounts, things were back to the way they were before. She was on the receiving end of his sweet smiles and his discreet flirty touches, but she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease and she couldn't pinpoint why.

He'd also cleaned up the conference room where he'd been working and chatting up Singh's team. She asked him what he was up to, but he denied anything untoward beyond trying to be helpful. She could still see his face when he told her he was just trying to be a team player; he looked perfectly sincere, but she knew it was a lie. It bothered her that the only reason she was certain he was lying was because she had years of experience to prove he was not a team player. Otherwise, he could pull the wool over her eyes easily.

"Teresa?"

She refocused her attention on her therapist at the sound of her name; the woman had been writing something down and her mind had drifted.

"Sorry... I didn't hear what you said."

"You're not the first law enforcement officer I work with you know. All my clients are in your field. You all share a similar trait… mistrust of anyone who is not in your circle, including me. I'm used to it. But I promise if you talk to me, I can help."

"I would, but I'm fine."

"You say that a lot...'I'm fine'."

"Because I am. Nothing happened. I was thrown clear; I have no lasting injuries. I sleep great!"

"Okay. Let's tackle this from another angle. Tell me, Teresa… who do you share your feelings with?"

She jammed. This was so pointless. She didn't need to be here. She needed to be at work.

"Teresa?"

"Can you be more specific with your question?" she asked exasperatedly.

"Do you have people in your life that you consider friends?"

"Yes, of course."

"And what do you talk about?"

"I don't understand what this has to do with the reason I'm here."

"Please, just answer my question."

"I don't know… work, cases, the Texas heat..." she trailed off.

"So, these friends are on your team or in the same field?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any friends outside of law enforcement?"

"Of course…" she responded absently.

"Okay, can you give me examples?"

She racked her brain; she didn't expect her to call her out on it, but she couldn't think of anyone.

"These would be people you share your feelings and thoughts with…" she suggested as though she were daft.

"I know."

An awkward silence stretched between them. She regarded the woman in front of her; she was a bit older than herself, with brown eyes, and straight ash-brown hair and she favored a business casual look. She was impressed by Susan's ability to maintain a calm demeanor and not get frustrated by their interactions. She knew that she wanted her to talk about her feelings and not the superficial ones that were safe to express, but to be truthful, she just didn't know how. Growing up in a traditional Irish Catholic family with three younger brothers, she was expected to contribute to child rearing and household chores; her parents never asked her how she felt about anything. And when her mom died, nobody asked her if she could handle taking care of her alcoholic-abusive father and three rambunctious younger siblings. She simply couldn't remember a single moment in her life, where anyone, her parents, her family, her teachers, her bosses, had ever asked her how she felt about anything and cared to hear the answer.

There was also the trust issue; you needed to trust someone to share your feelings with them and the few times she'd opened herself up to that, she'd been burned in the worse way. Her mind conjured up Jane's smiling face; he was one of them... someone she couldn't trust.

"Okay… what about your family… you have three brothers and a sister-in-law… what do you talk about with them?"

"What everyone talks about with their family… family stuff."

"Like what? You raised them right?"

"Yes."

"What's your role in their life today; parent or sibling?"

"I don't see how this has anything to do with the explosion. They were little. We don't have a typical sibling relationship. I still take care of them, they have no one else."

"They have each other."

"They can barely help themselves, let alone each other," she said truthfully.

"So, you carry a lot of responsibility and have done so since you were yourself a child."

"Yes. You're not covering any new ground here. It's all in my file."

"Yes… it's all very factual. How do you feel about this information being in a file?"

"It's part of the job."

"I understand," she said steadily, "but, I want to know how you feel. Your whole life is laid out in this file and I read it. You didn't share these things with me. How does that make you feel?"

"I don't like it… I can't see how anyone would be happy about it. In all due respect, we're talking in circles here. I just need you to sign off. I'm doing fine. Everything is fine!"

"Teresa, I'm concerned that you don't have anyone in your life that you turn to. That you don't have anyone that you share your feelings with. That's a very important part of good mental health. Having someone to talk to… to share your burdens. That makes you feel safe. Do you have someone like that in your life?"

No, Susan, I don't! You read my file didn't you? she felt like throwing it back at her, but restrained herself. The law enforcement field performs extensive screening of their candidates, but none more thorough than the FBI. Anyone with clearance, such as Susan, could read her file and see the several altercations on her father's file for domestic violence, the fact that she grew up on one type of social assistance or another depending on when her father could hold down a job or not, her trips to the emergency room for various injuries and so on. Even her aunt, the one person she knew loved her and cared deeply about her, had betrayed her. Looking back now, she realizes it wasn't on purpose, she had meant well, but the result was the same; she'd been unable to protect her.

She still remembered the scene in the change room; her aunt had burst in without knocking with more clothes for her to try on and had seen her blackened arm where her father had painfully twisted it, his finger marks still visible to the naked eye on her pale skin and the deep purple bruises on her back from when he'd slammed her against the banister when she'd gotten in between him and her little brother. Her aunt had been so appalled by what she saw and had demanded she tell the truth. It had made her feel safe that her aunt wanted to protect her and she'd told her the truth, her young mind fantasying that her aunt would take her to live with her. Instead, she had shown up at her house with their family priest. The priest proceeded to chastise her father for being too rough with his discipline of her. She knew her father's body language so well; she'd studied it for her own self-protection and could still see his eyes darting to hers menacingly as the priest spoke to him. When she tried to leave the living room as her aunt was exiting with the priest, he smiled cruelly at her, grabbing her hand and squeezing it painfully, his stern voice telling her to say goodbye to their guests. She knew it was going to be bad; he waited until their car had pulled out the driveway and then he proceeded to beat her so badly, she could barely walk the next day. He made it clear that if she ever complained again, he'd give her something to complain about. When her aunt visited the following month, she told her that everything was fine and she never questioned her again about it. Her aunt died never knowing the hell that was her life living in that house. What she did learn was that she couldn't trust anyone; that she needed to earn her 'safety' by giving people what they expected of her and being hypervigilant about other people's moods.

"What are you thinking about, Teresa?"

That I could never trust anyone was her plain answer, but it wasn't as bad as it sounded. She'd done very well on her own. She was proud of her achievements. She loved socializing and doing things with other people, but she didn't need anyone to share her 'feelings' with or to make her feel safe. It wasn't necessary anymore and there was no point.

"I have plenty of people in my life that I trust with my life. We don't need to talk about our 'feelings'. The job is hard and it's not pretty. It is what it is. No amount of talking will change that."

"It's okay to talk about your feelings even when it won't change the situation. Your friends may have a different perspective that could reduce your emotional burden."

"Look… Susan… if I need someone to talk to, I will reach out. But I do perfectly fine on my own. I just don't need that kind of thing from other people; I can take care of myself... I don't need anyone else and this whole conversation has nothing to do with the explosion which is the reason I'm here."

"Okay, I hear you," she conceded. "I just want to say one more thing before we move on from this subject. You've experienced a lot of trauma in your life and I know that the concepts of trust and safety are more abstract than reality for you. I just want you to keep this in mind; if ever you do want to experience safety and trust, you can start small. Unfortunately, if you're waiting for someone to be worthy before you take that step, you will never get to experience it. To build trust, you must first give yourself to it. Then... if that person doesn't meet your expectations, you can move on and try again. But... the first step comes from you. You might be pleasantly surprised by what happens when you let go of your fears."

She couldn't mask her frown from Susan and she felt herself shutting down.

"Let's talk about the explosion, then," she tried to coax.

She fought the urge to groan.

"We already did that at the last session."

"Yes, we did," she said, flipping back a page in her notebook and reading what was there. "I learned a lot about witness interview protocols, witness vetting processes, and critical behavioral assessment training... you're very knowledgeable and I appreciate you taking the time to explain the importance of these things in helping to prevent future incidents and to increase the security of FBI agents working in the field. How was your report received?"

"I haven't heard any feedback yet. Those kinds of things take time," she supplied.

She did hope that they could apply the learnings from her situation and implement the processes she recommended. The agent that sent them the information on the witness hadn't taken the time to vet the information they received and sent her and the team into a dangerous situation. Had the agent done more than a cursory look at the information, she would've known that they were dealing with a witness in a desperate situation who lived in a meth lab with an unstable boyfriend and she would've approached the situation much differently than she had. It still upset her to know that all the information had been available, but he hadn't looked, because there was an issue with protocol and who had the responsibility to look up that information.

"I see. I hope they consider your report because I know you put a lot of work into it. But today, I want to talk about something different. The impact the explosion had on your relationships."

"There wasn't any," she said before her therapist could launch into another track of thought that she didn't want to talk about.

"Well... you were in a relationship when we first started our sessions. It appeared to be a stable and caring relationship with a Marcus Pike. What happened?"

"It didn't work out."

"What was your break up about?"

"Misalignment of priorities."

Her therapist frowned slightly.

"Who initiated the break-up?"

She bit her top lip in an attempt to control her annoyance with her line of questioning but at this point, she just wanted out of here, so she decided to answer her inane questions.

"I guess I did. He issued an ultimatum, I didn't take the bait. That was the end."

"Just like that?"

"Yes."

She didn't need to add the fact that she broke up with him twice.

"Okay. And how did that make you feel?"

Her annoyance with the question, 'how does that make you feel', was growing at a fast pace. She smiled tightly at her therapist as she answered the question again.

"He was a nice guy, but I wasn't in love with him. It's all good. There's really nothing more to say."

"Did it have anything to do with the explosion?"

"No."

The therapist made a small sound in her throat and wrote something down. She wanted to jump up and leave but remained seated.

"Okay, let's move on. Your colleagues Kim Fischer, Kimble Cho, and Patrick Jane... they were all at the scene during the explosion. I'd like to talk about them for a bit."

"Okay."

She knew that Fischer and Cho also had to see a therapist, most likely it was her as well, it was protocol. Were they okay? Why was she bringing them up? They said they were okay when she asked them that one time. They seemed to be functioning well. She would've noticed if there were issues. She had plenty of training and experience in spotting signs of stress with her team over the years. But she'd been so wrapped up in her situation with Jane that maybe she missed something.

Susan now had her full attention.

"I want you to tell me how you think your colleagues are doing?"

"Oh… um. They seem fine. Have you heard different?"

"That would be confidential, Teresa. You would need to ask them."

"I did and they said they were okay."

Well, that wasn't helpful, she thought. How can she help her colleagues if she wouldn't talk to her about the problem?

"I want you to look past their words. You're an agent… you look past what people say or don't say all the time."

The events of that day came back to the forefront as her feelings overwhelmed her. Her last thought before the explosion had been of Fischer and Cho and keeping them safe. Her first thought as she struggled out of unconsciousness had been confusion. Her head hurt so badly, that it was almost unbearable, and her ears were ringing loudly; she couldn't hear anything else. She'd wanted to let herself slip back into unconsciousness but couldn't. Then she remembered why she was in pain and her immediate thought had been of Fischer and Cho. She had forced her eyes open; ash was floating above her, sirens were blaring, loud crackling sounds permeated the air, babies cried in the distance, and a chaos of shouting voices assaulted her senses increasing the pain in her head. Her eyes couldn't focus, and her head hurt too much to string thoughts together; she'd been scared to find herself in that state and had wondered what else was wrong with her.

Someone had been saying her name… no… it was more than one person… she couldn't move her head and she couldn't hear what they were saying because someone had been moaning loudly beside her non-stop. Then Cho had come into her line of sight by leaning over her. That's when she realized she was on a gurney outside an ambulance and the loud moaning was coming from her. Cho was trying to soothe her… telling her she was okay. She saw relief in his eyes but something else popped into her mind… his face had been covered in dirt and she could see tear streaks through it; he'd been crying.

She held onto that image of Cho and remembered his next words to Fischer… he kept repeating, she's okay, she's okay… both of them had shared a look of relief between each other as a paramedic had started talking over them to get her attention.

Her next memory was of Cho's panicked voice as he spoke to Fischer again… 'he thinks she's dead! We told him she's dead. I have to go find him. Stay with her and don't let her out of your sight until I get back. Ride with her to the hospital if you have to.' Then he had told the paramedic that Fischer was to not leave her side. Fischer had started talking to her in a calming voice telling her she was okay but her voice was different… she could hear the concern as she'd held her hand.

Both Cho and Fischer had been scared. They thought she had died. They told Jane she had died. They'd been upset and Cho had cried… over her.

But she didn't see all that at that back then because she had been relieved that they were okay and not hurt. That they'd gotten away on time. It wasn't until later at the hospital that Cho told her that Jane had followed them to the scene… and that he'd gone A.W.O.L. after. She also learned that she had stopped breathing when she was unconscious and needed to be resuscitated. That must've been difficult for them to watch; she remembered when she found Jane drowned in the pond and how worried she'd been when they were resuscitating him. She was still haunted by that image of his lifeless body and how close she came to losing him.

"Teresa?"

"They were upset. They thought I died."

"Do you think what they experienced is something they can easily stop thinking about?"

"They're used to this kind of thing. It comes with the job."

"Colleagues almost die regularly in your line of work?"

"No… I guess I meant the danger is there."

"Patrick Jane… he disappeared from the scene. He's a long-time colleague. How do you think he's fairing?"

"He's fine."

"There's that word again; fine. Nothing's changed? Your colleagues are fine, and everything is just the same as it was?"

No… her inner voice instinctively answered. Her response took her by surprise and she sat with it, thinking. Now that she revisited what happened, she could see it from the outside, looking in. Like clouds parting to reveal the sun, she realized that everything had indeed changed after the explosion. Marcus became overprotective and suffocating and asked her to marry him out of the blue. Cho and Fischer often looked at her strangely… doing the junior tasks on their team that should've been hers like the interviews and evidence gathering. Come to think of it, one of them was always with her… they'd been babysitting her. She was mortified. And Jane... her heart squeezed painfully with the thought of admitting this to herself... Jane had suddenly found romantic feelings for her.

"I need to go."

"We still have time-"

"I need to go… please."

The explosion had a big impact on her life, she just didn't see it until now. It changed a lot of things for her and her friends who witnessed it. She left Susan's office without another word, her mind filled with thoughts from the last few weeks. She'd been so blind.

Her heart ached with the thoughts swirling in her head; what if Jane was trying to protect her in his own way by keeping her close to him? What else did he have planned to keep her safe? The last few weeks were all a sham… her friends were simply trying to process their trauma from that event, and she didn't see it.

She wasn't innocent either… she blew up her stable relationship with a great guy to be with Jane, a very unsafe choice for a romantic partner; that wasn't like her. The events of the last few weeks became clearer the longer she thought about it. Remembering the look on Cho's face; she could only imagine what condition Jane had been in after being told she'd died. Susan was right, she was affected by the explosion; she wanted Jane so much that she let herself believe he was in love with her when she knew from the beginning that something wasn't right. She hadn't been strong enough to see that he was reacting to his feelings of fear and past trauma. Jane wasn't ready to move on; he never was. He just didn't want to lose her. That's why he still wore his ring and why he needed to keep her close… not for her… but to protect himself from more trauma.

Now that all the puzzle pieces fit together, she needed to think about what to do next.

A/N: Next chapter, Jane proves what he's always said; people don't change.

I love hearing from you (in whichever language you feel comfortable with). We're almost at the end of the story, so if there's something you want to be covered in the story, let me know. :-)