I'm really going to try and keep this apology short even though I feel I could go on for ages! I am so sorry for the ridiculously long time it has taken me to update. My best friend (you may have read some of her stories from a while pack. Her pen name is Sectumsempress if you want to check them out) is very ill and wants me to continue her unfinished Mentalist fanfiction stories (she's a dedicated little thing) so I've been busy trying to get a feel for those so I can start writing her chapters for her. Any readers that have had a family member or friend with a terminal illness or life changing disability will understand how hard it is to write during this time so I hope you guys understand why the wait has been so long. I'm really sorry again and I promise regular updates from now on. I really hope you enjoy the next chapter and thank you again to the subscribers and reviewers for your ongoing support. It makes my day! :D Also, feel free to call me out on any punctuation/spelling errors – I'm a shocking editor and I really need to learn from mistakes :P

"Patrick?" Angela said sleepily rolling over but nobody responded. She opened her eyes blearily to find the room a lot less dark than it had been when she'd heard his voice for what seemed like four seconds ago. The sky had made her room a dark purple and the birds were chirping loudly.

Angela sleepily stretched her arms out and was surprised when her limbs ached in protest and felt like lead. She frowned and examined her arms for bruises when she realised she was naked and there was a familiar jacket under her head. She sat up confused until recollections from night before came flooding back like a battering ram. She flopped back down on her pillow with one hand over her mouth and the other in her hair. It sounded silly but she'd assumed it was just another dream and she couldn't wrap her head around the reality.

Her clock told her it was just after four am. An ungodly hour without the presence of coffee. Her hip joints felt sore. She didn't believe they'd ever been in that position before, certainly not for that long! It's was good sore, a pleasant ache and she finally managed to get her legs to cooperate and wrapped her quilt around her to gather and put on her clothes. She walked into the adjoining bathroom her family shared. She leaned over the sink, put the plug in and turned the faucet on. Angela closed her eyes and lightly touched her lips trying to recall every detail of the way he kissed her and the feel of every touch to cement the reality that it was Patrick Jane's lips that had been there.

She smiled to herself and looked up in the mirror and sighed disappointingly. Angela wasn't a depressed girl who obsessed over her attractiveness or lack thereof with self-loathing and criticism. She knew she was traditionally and generically pretty. She wasn't oblivious to the attention she received from boys about her appearance but she was just textbook pretty. Not beautiful or desirable. She'd inherited all the customary good Ruskin genes. Attractive clean skin, slender, dark haired, good cheekbones, long-lashed blue eyes. They were easily distinguishable from a crowd to any carnie that knew their history. Ruskin children looked like they had come straight out of a catalogue for test-tube babies. As she was nearing adulthood though, Angela was beginning to become less appreciative of this fact. She didn't look anything like a mature, desirable woman. Her figure was void of any womanly curves, her bra size seemed laughable and her pure skin made her look a lot younger. Jack looked sexier in a pair of skinny jeans then she could ever hope to.

Angela tried to not look in the mirror as she splashed water onto her face. There were a lot of beautiful women that would visit the carnival. She always saw Patrick with beautiful women. They were always slight variations on a consistent theme. Much older than her, gorgeous defined bodies, perfectly stylised make up and outfits, mature and bodacious features and blonde, red or light coloured hair done up in the most extravagant of styles. It was up to him what he liked, she guessed. Not everyone had time to make themselves look drop dead gorgeous every day of the week and the position she had been born into certainly left no spare time. Even with learning the ropes of the general upkeep of the carnival to appease her hopeful father, Angela still managed to educateherself on every subject whatever the closest library offered. It was redundant, she knew. Knowing how to calculate the radius of a circle or memorising the constitution was meaningless in her world. Luckily she had mastered the skill of putting on her most convincing smile while her father sat on his lucrative throne of lies, deceit and voracity which she was destined to inherit along with all the broken outcasts that somehow found solace in this place. At least everyone was fiercely loyal of each other, if nothing else. Angela desperately wished for a better life for them all. For Sam and Pete and especially for the three men she loved the most.

She returned to her room and folded his jacket in a neat pile; a contrast to her messy floor. She could only imagine the difficulty her best friend had, doing what he did to her last night, then being satisfied with what little he received in return. She felt a little selfish and self centered. He was entirely willing to give her what her body so desperately needed and she didn't even offer to reciprocate. It did appear, however, that he did get a little something, though by comparison to what he must be used to, it was probably awkward and unpleasant.

When Angela had first fantasised about her first time with Patrick, she thought one of the best things when it came to her experience or lack of thereof, she wouldn't feel embarrassed afterwards. However, lately she'd found herself becoming extremely self-conscious about it all. Even though she was the polar opposite to his type, he couldn't find her too repulsive if he'd willingly have done those things. She had no idea why she had started over thinking about these dangerously intense thoughts. It was probably all that herbal tea Sam had been force feeding her. It was starting to affect her brain.

The breeze coming from the window he'd left open upon exiting was lovely and she looked out of it, wondering where he was and if he was sleeping or up, lost in his thoughts like her. It was moving day so it was going to be an early morning for everyone but it seemed she was the only one awake at that moment. Maybe he was with that other woman he was recently gallivanting around with. Lindsay or Leslie or something. Or maybe he had agreed to meet up with an infatuated pretty local girl like he usually did. She slammed the window shut, yanked closed the curtains and went back to sleep.

"Rise and shine my darling first born," Jonathan said pulling open her curtains a mere half an hour later.
"Urgh," she moaned pulling her quilt over her head. The lack of energy from last night's activities was setting in. "Go away."

"A Ruskin who's late to start packing up isn't a very good look, Evangeline."
"Neither's a Ruskin with no head…Jonathan."
He chuckled and wiggled her exposed foot.
"If we don't get on the road this morning, we're going to miss opening night and lose money. Then I'm going to have to sell you to a fat rich Italian man to be his bride. Don't think we haven't considered it."
"You're appalling," she glared at him sitting up. "Considering exploiting your own daughter's innocence for financial gain."
"Don't feel bad, honey. Daniel's kidney is next on the list," he ruffling her birds-nest hair and leaving her to get dressed.

When 5am rolled past, preparations were in full swing. Pete and Jonathan were leading the heavy lifting crowd and Sam was barking orders and had Danny by the ear so he didn't run off. Angela was attempting to walk around after fifteen minutes sitting with an impromptu icepack wedged between her behind and a chair. Sam walked in on her attempting to stave off insomnia by catching a few minutes of well-deserved sleep and tipped her entire mattress on its side and of course, because luck had never been in her favour, she went sprawling onto the floor and landed on her Coccyx bone.

"Careful there, Angie," Pete said, taking her wrist and helping her hobble to her next checkpoint. He let out a little nostalgic chuckle. "This reminds me of when I was a teenager and you were a wee little toddler and holding on to everyone's hand to catch a ride."
"Glad to hear I've progressed since then."
"Ow, don't be hard on yourself. You've survived Hurricane Sam for nearly eighteen years without too bad an injury," Pete whistled. "Wow, twenty years I've been at this for."
"Thinking about moving on?" Angela asked.
"No, no, Ange," Pete said nervously. "Never."
"Why?" she asked. "You and Sam deserve more after all the work you've put into this place. You should start a family."
"We can have a family here," Pete said.
"Yeah, but-" Pete covered her mouth.
"You've always had some wild ideas, best keep them up in here though," he laughed nervously tapping her head. "There's a good girl."

000

"Grab me those lights, Paddy," his dad said and Patrick handed him the twine of lights that decorated their tent.
"There we go, all done," his dad said admiring the quick pack up they'd managed. They had finished in Iowa and were about to begin the four hour drive to Kansas. Patrick attached their trailer to his father's trucks towbar.

"Go grab your truck boy so you can follow me down."
"Um, dad?"
"Yeah, my boy?"
"Could I go help the Ruskin's? I know they've got a lot of heavy metal to pack up."
"Ah, clever boy. Of course, go help the Ruskin's," his dad said ruffling Patrick's hair uncharacteristically. "I'll see you when you get down there."

Patrick was curious about his dad's cooperation but didn't push it as he jumped in his car. He hadn't slept a wink last night just anticipating the next time he'd be able to see her and touch her and talk to her. He was certain that their relationship had changed, in one way or another. Last night was without a doubt the most incredible experience of his life (so far, he made as an afterthought) and only further reinforced his belief that she was undoubtedly the most perfect human being he would ever lay eyes upon. He was a little nervous about how she felt though. If she was happy about last night or if she was horrified at what had happened. In his opinion, there wasn't any denying the chemistry and electricity between them and everything about last night was more natural and perfect than he could imagine love to be. If she saw it as well, she could be thinking the same way but on the other hand, if she hadn't felt anything at all she may be rethinking their agreement.

Even though he still hadn't figured out his feelings about that situation, he couldn't deny how badly he wanted it to happen and had started to plan what to do for her birthday. He considered taking her somewhere romantic, making it a surprise kind of thing. Except Angela hated surprises and everything romantic he could think of would not suit her whatsoever. Patrick as supposed to be trying to make her fall in love with him and despite his extensive success with women, he really had no idea how to. He had never put that much effort into wooing girls. They'd always come to him and he'd never had a relationship or been in love with them or anything like that. Occasionally he'd taken girls on a date here and there but usually they only wanted one thing from him and he was happy to provide. How on earth was he supposed to convince the most beautiful girl…woman...in the world that he could love her more than any other man could possibly strive to?

Patrick drove to where a group of people were disassembling and packing up the ghost train. Pete was lifting the last of the carts over his head with ease and into the truck. Jonathan and Sam were chatting with concerned looks on their faces and he followed their stare to where Angela was trying to coax the baby elephant into one of the cages. His heart thumped uncomfortably in his chest and for the first time in his life, he felt nervous. Even though his eyes annoying had to notice at first glance how the morning sun set off her skin and lustrous hair in the most beautiful of ways, it became fleetingly obvious that she had made no effort to 'do herself up' this morning as any girl who knew she was going to be in the presence of a potential suitor would have.

Her hair was in a messier version of her usual plaid that hung over her left shoulder, her blue plaid shirt was crumpled and the bulgy brown parka she wore was too long in the sleeves and nearly came down to her knees. Although he thought in the back of his mind, it was probably better this way to have her tantalising skin and flawless body covered up so he at least had a small chance of being able to get a complete sentence out without his mind wandering to last night's events and rendering him speechless. She was wearing her sunglasses even though the sun was still yet to fully rise as if she had a hangover.

"Come on Penelope!" she coaxed trying to comfort the disobedient animal who had a grudge against the girl.

Patrick noticed her movements were very stiff and awkward and he hoped he hadn't hurt her last night. She wrapped the rope tightly around her wrist and tried tugging again to get Penelope to shift forwards but to no avail. He got out of the car to help her – Penelope adored Patrick, like all the women in his life, bar one.

The elephant saw Patrick coming over and eagerly turned towards him in the opposite direction. Angela, who had the rope tied around her wrist, went flying and dragged through two metres of dirt. She heard Patrick and her father chuckling and she briefly envisioned a painful ordeal for both of them.

She felt Patrick's hands under her arms and he lifted her with ease to her feet from her second encounter with the ground today. She quickly brushed the dirt off her face feeling like an idiot as she had been half hoping Patrick had already left so she could have at least brushed her hair before seeing him again.

"Good morning," he smiled warmly, kissing her hand. She yanked her hand away and stowed it in her pocket before glancing at her father who was preoccupied and Patrick laughed softly.
"Morning," she said quietly and ducked around him to pick up Penelope's rope and trying to avoid his eyes. She was blushing furiously and Patrick couldn't deduce whether it was his presence or just her general frustration at her life.

He watched her lead a satisfied Penelope into her cage and locked it up. He didn't consider the possibly worst scenario that she would just ignore what happened completely. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear Sam approach him.
"If you're going to hang around and enjoy the scenery, Boy Wonder, at least be useful while you do it," she said thrusting a cotton candy machine into his arms.

With Jonathan's expert coordination and Sam's instilment of fear, the company managed to pack everything up within the hour and were ready to hit the road.
Angela lugged her full book bag to the car before Patrick scooped it off her shoulder and slung it over his own.
"The princess of the carnival shouldn't be engaging in such labour."
She burned with a mixture of rage and embarrassment. "It's not that heavy."
"Are you kidding?" Patrick said. "There are more books in here than I've seen in my life."
"Not saying much then," she teased back and he was glad she was at least returning some of his fire like usual.
He tugged on her plait and detoured towards his car.
"Um...my rides over that way, Boy Wonder," she said pointing in the opposite direction and planting her other hand on her hip and Patrick's mouth went dry and it was hard to talk.

"Your dad said I could take you," he shrugged putting her bag in the back. With any luck, she wouldn't be needing those to entertain her for the drive.
"Really?" she looked at him with amazement. "Jonathan Ruskin is leaving his most prized possession in the hands of the reckless teenage panty-dropper?"
"I am not reckless," he said feigning hurt. "And besides, the man loves me. We'll be getting invites to our own wedding soon."
"Yeah," she rolled her eyes and hopped in the passenger side. "I don't know which is more implausible. My marrying Patrick Jane or my dad willingly letting his heir free."
"We can still get married and stay with the carnival," Patrick said and then realised exactly what he had said. Other people. We can be married to other people, he wanted to say but thought he would just put his foot further down his throat. Not to mention, he tried to be honest with Angela if no one else and he couldn't imagine the possibility to tying himself to anyone forever if it wasn't her.

"I know that," she said quietly and looked at the Iowa site for the last time. "Do you ever think about doing something different? Something other than this?"
"Like illusions?"
"No, not like illusions," she snapped. "Like different to his," she gestured to the Midwest scenery. "Forests or ocean or snow…"
"Have you been drinking some of Sam's funky tea again?" Patrick asked.
"No, I just think it's a vicious cycle of repetition."

They sat in silence thoughtfully for a few minutes.
"You couldn't have a carnival in a forest or ocean or in the snow," he commented.
Angela sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose and Patrick thought he may have missed something. Not uncommon with his difficult woman.

The next hour was spent talking about nearly everything except, infuriatingly to Patrick, the events of last night. If not for the taste of her lips still tingling on his own and the marks her fingernails had left on his back, he would've considered he had dreamt the beauty of what lay underneath her shapeless clothes. He needed to hear he confirm it out loud though and spent a while mustering up the courage to bring it up.

Angela was softly singing along to whatever song was currently playing on the radio.
"Sorry about last night," Patrick said trying to sound nonchalant.
"It-it's okay," Angela replied trying to sound casual and off-hand too. Her eyes were hidden behind her Aviators and she put her feet up on the dashboard. "I'm sure you had other things to do."
She started quickly chatting about how unfair it was that the sideshow alley games were probably rigged. Patrick wasn't entirely sure what she meant about having other things to do. He was apologising for waking her at a ridiculous hour, breaking in through her window and ravishing her within an inch of taking entirely. He detected a hint of bitterness in her tone but couldn't place it.

They stopped to get lunch a little while later. The pretty waitress kept checking back in, warmly touching Patrick's hand or shoulder while doing so. Angela couldn't help but think it was a little rude given how even though they weren't; they could possibly have been a couple on a date. Then she realised everyone probably assumed they were related or just friends given how someone as handsome and lovely as Patrick would never be with, well, someone like her. Patrick, however, even with his usually excellent radar when it came to interested attractive women, couldn't take his eyes off Angela for a second to even notice the attention he was receiving.

"Did you get her number?" Angela asked as they got back into the car.
"What?" Patrick asked her.
"The waitress that was flirting up a storm with you?" she said blatantly.
"Oh, was she?" Patrick asked genuinely unaware. "I didn't notice."
Angela just smiled and punched him in the arm like he was teasing her.

Patrick asked Angela a lot about her 'school work' as such. Angela was as a sponge of knowledge, but unlike Patrick, she retained the relevant kind. Even though, Angela knew he didn't understand why she taught herself such useless things, he was always fascinated by her talking about them. When she spoke about certain things like her books, she spoke with such passion he had never heard in her voice when she spoke about the carnival. It made him love her more if that were even possible.

"It's amazing how you can fit so much into your day," Patrick commented. "All your training and chores and you still have time for this hobby."
"It's not a hobby," her eyes narrowed defensively. "It's important stuff and everyone here should be able to get the chance to learn about it."
Patrick smiled at her fire. "I'm sure if they had the time they would. It's not easy you know, to keep up the constant good work to keep your place. One slip up and you could be out. Luckily my dad keeps me focused. See, you're extremely lucky, Angela. You're the carnival princess. You're future is already set out for you in a neat little bow, you just have to walk in a straight line."

He saw Angela stiffen and avert her eyes to out the window. He thought he saw he wipe her cheek a few times looking annoyed with herself. He saw a turnoff from the main road and took it fast making her gasp loudly.
"Where are you going?! Patrick! This isn't the way! You're going the wrong way!"
He chuckled evilly and she looked out the window at the cornfield they were surrounded by. She had seen Children of the Corn; she knew how this went down.

"What are you doing?!" she grabbed his arm when they came to a stop.
He grinned and reached his hands up to hold her face. "Well, if you already think I'm reckless, Ruskin. That's what you're going to get."
He kissed her chastely on the edge of her lips leaving her with the cutest astonished expression he had ever seen and he laughed and got out of his car to explore their surroundings.

Angela chased after him, calling his name while she ran.
"Patrick Jane!" she yelled. "Don't think I won't kick your ass just because you're my best friend! Come back now!"
She stopped to catch her breath and looked around to discover she was in the middle of a terrifying corn field not knowing which way was what all the while her stupid gorgeous best friend was gallivanting around like a golden fairy in his domain.

For some reason, she got a sickly, sinister feeling in her stomach. Her heart started to race and her bones felt frozen.
"RAAAAH," Patrick yelled coming out of the field behind her and grabbing her waist. She screamed so loud that several crows went soaring into the sky looking disgruntled.
She spun around, still in his arms and punched him in the shoulder with her bunny-ish fury.
"You idiot, you made me scream!"
"You didn't seem to complain about that last night," he joked.
He laughed at the scandalised expression on her face and she punched him again harder.

Patrick laughed again and wrapped his arms around her tighter, pinning hers down by her sides to avoid any more beatings and picked her up and ran in a random direction. They came across and barn and he put her down. "We are going to get so lost," she fussed, nervously pulling at the bottom of her shirt. "Dad's going to get so worried."
"No he won't" Patrick smiled at her. "He knows I wouldn't ever let anything happen to you."
She was chewing at her bottom lip making Patrick notice them and how he would love to taste them again.

He picked her up again, bridal style this time, causing her to curse angrily pointing out the fact that she had legs, though she didn't fight him, instead resting comfortably into him. He delicately nuzzled her neck which was exposed to him and they went into the barn. Patrick dropped her into a soft pile of hay which made her shriek quietly. He laid over her, resting his arms on either side of her so their bodies weren't touching.
"Patrick, someone might come!" her beautiful bright eyes were wide.
"With any lucky," he smiled and Angela rolled her eyes and shoved him.
"You're incorrigible!"
"And yet, here you always are."
"Well, I can't exactly say the same for you," her eyes narrowed. "Here one second and gone the next. Maybe you should make sure there's a window you can escape via before you go any further."

Patrick looked down at her confused before he clicked. That's what she was talking about in the car earlier. He rested on one elbow so he could stroke her face with his free hand.
"Is that what you were upset about, sweetheart?" he said softly staring into her eyes. "That I left afterwards?"
She huffed and rolled her eyes. "For goodness sake, Patrick. I'm a Ruskin. I was not upset. I don't get upset about things…"
"I won't leave again," he promised sincerely and kissed her softly and hungrily at the same time. He was gentler and slower this time. Last night he was worked up and emotional and he regretted not taking the chance to document every little response she made to his touch. Their lips worked together in perfectly harmony and with a gentle tumble of awkward hands and fingers all the buttons on both of their shirts became undone allowing them to explore one another.

Patrick's hands memorised every curve of her body and rested on her flat stomach while the other went to hold her face while he kissed her neck. Angela was focusing on keeping her heart from bursting out of her chest as his expert hands traced her body in the most marvellous of ways and his lips pressed soft and adoring kisses on her neck. She opened her eyes and tried to focus her vision so she could see for herself whether he was enjoying her himself or doing this as a favour, to make their agreement less awkward when the time came.

She saw the inside of the decrepit and dark barn. It was musty and cold even though Patrick's body was more than enough heat for her. The beams were crumbling and a fraying rope was swinging back and forth from one of them. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to get rid of the sickly feeling that had returned and wanting to go back to the heaven she was in moments before. A sudden terrifying vision popped into her head of someone screaming, choking for air and the metallic smell of blood filled her nose.

"NO!" she screamed covering her face with her hands.
"Evangeline!" Patrick gasped and he was off her in an instant. He held her shoulders and gently shook her. "Are you okay?! Oh god, did I hurt you? Are you alright? Please answer me, Angel."
She sat up fast, her head spinning from whatever had just happened. Her mouth tasted like blood. She had bit her tongue.

"I'm…I'm okay," she said shakily. "I'm sorry. I just, I don't know…"
"You don't need to explain yourself, sweetheart," he told her, hugging her tightly. She held on to him like a life line.
"I'm sorry," she said again shakily. "I didn't mean to…"
"No means no, Angel," he told her doing up the buttons on her shirt for her. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
"You're amazing," she looked up at him as he did up the buttons for his own shirt. He kissed her forehead.
"Are you okay?" he took her hands in his and looked at her with concern and fright.

Angela looked around. "This place scares me."
He looked at her and nodded before helping her up. Angela was a determined and fiercely independent person, he knew. She wouldn't admit to anything frightening her unless it was serious.
"Let's go then," he said putting his arm around her and leading her out into the sunlight.

Patrick tried to bring their light-hearted banter back as they walked through the field back to the car even though Angela could feel his eyes on her. Probably worried that she was going to freak out again. She glanced back at the red barn where the sun was setting, making the peeling paint look like a bloodied mark. Angela shivered in Patrick's arms and he held her tightly to him for a moment before opening the car door.

She got in and buckled her seat belt trying not to feel utterly humiliated and confused.
He didn't shut her door but leaned in with a very uncharacteristically serious expression on his face.
"I'm never going to let anything bad ever happen to you," he promised fiercely. It wasn't the first time he had said it. "You know that right?"
"I know," she tried to smile at him but looked more as if she had a toothache.

Patrick smiled warmly at her and leaned in to kiss her forehead once more.