Author's notes: Thank you to everyone for the great feedback to the last chapter. I'm so glad you all enjoyed it.
After parking the car in the driveway of her home, Teresa wearily rests her forehead on the steering wheel. After leaving Jane she went to the nurse's station to inquire as to the whereabouts of Doctor Armitage, remembering that he wanted a word with her before she left. It was so hard to close the door on Patrick, every fibre of her being was pulling her back in. If she stayed he might remember, he might remember that he loves her, that they're married, that they have two beautiful children that they adore. That his tortured past is behind him. He's lived it, suffered it, dealt with it and overcame it. That in the present he's found happiness, contentment, love. A love that grew slowly, imperceptibly, both unaware it was happening until it was ingrained in each other so deep, that ties couldn't be broken, no matter the cost, no matter the risk.
The doctor had been encouraging.
"It's a good sign that he remembers things he couldn't remember this morning"
"But,"
She countered:
"He doesn't remember this morning. He doesn't remember the time after the accident, all the progress we've made together, he's forgotten it all."
She was struggling between anger and despair and as she talked to the doctor. She allowed his calm tone to fuel her anger, allowing it to win out so she could hold back the tears that now, flow freely.
She indulges herself for a few minutes, allowing her despair and frustrations free rein. No holding them in check, no longer being strong. She feels like a child, weak,with a desire so strong that it hurts, for someone to wrap their arms around her, to hold her, tell her that it's okay, that she's not alone, that they will help, they will tell her what to do. Tell her the way to help her children to feel they have nothing to fear as their world is turned upside down again, that they are still surrounded by love and protection. That she will love them enough for two until their daddy's back with them.
She realises that she's praying, praying fervently for the divine assistance she believes is out there. As her thoughts continue to turn outwards, the strength of her emotions begin to weaken and she starts to gain control. She can almost picture them receding, being drawn backwards towards a hole, slipping down, growing smaller, until the last drop is gone. She sits still, searching within herself, taking deep calming breaths, then suddenly a feeling of peace warms her heart and continues to grow, and expands until her whole body is consumed, filling her with warmth and love. She succumbs to the feeling, until it also begins to recede leaving behind calmness and strength.
She wipes her eyes, looks at herself in the rear view mirror. She reaches to the glove box and removes a packet of wipes. She pulls one out and holds it against her eyes, enjoying the coolness against the heat.
Her mind replays the conversation with her husband she can't deny it was nice that he did now remember her. He knew who she was, she could see it in his eyes, recognition, familiarity, intimacy born from the years of their friendship. Gone was the hesitation, the confusion, the fear. He may not be her husband yet, but she has him back. She's surprised to find herself smiling, as the thought crosses her mind. 'What it Patrick Jane going to think when he discovers that they're married.'
She takes a deep breath, wads up the wipe and shoves it in her pocket and opens the car door.
Patrick throws back the covers and sits himself up, swinging his legs around the edge of the bed. He needs the toilet, he's examined himself, he seems to be in one piece, no reason why he can't get out of bed. His head is clearer than the last time he was awake. He's been lying in bed for a few minutes, replaying the conversation with the doctor and Lisbon. He realises he's no idea what year it is. He's knows it isn't the year he thinks it is, Lisbon isn't married in that year, not even dating. He stands up and dragging his i.v. pole with him, makes his way to the door he was grateful to spot in the wall beyond his bed, he assumes it's a bathroom. With no other clothes except his hospital gown, he's pleased not have to grace the more public areas.
He determinedly avoids looking at himself in the mirror until after relieving himself. He straightens up and steels himself then turns towards the sink and the mirror. Since making the determination to visit the bathroom and realising that an altered version of himself will stare back at him in the mirror, he's tried to develop a picture in his mind as to what to expect.
Almost twenty years, he'll be coming up to fifty years old. That alone is hard to get his head around. He'd been blessed with fewer grey hairs than most men of his age, has that continued? Or was there a sudden invasion and his blond locks are no more. Although not the vain man he used to be he's relieved that he still has hair and is not sure what he'll think about a grey version of himself suddenly thrust upon him.
It's surreal the reflection staring back at him, being him but not quite. He's still blond, though he sees an increase of grey hairs glistening in the light. He sticks his tongue out. Yes the man in the mirror does the same. He winks, he yawns, he crosses his eyes. The reflection did it all, at exactly the same time, it must be him. He studies him further, noting the deepening of the lines in his face, the effect of gravity, but pronounces that it's not too bad. He can live with himself, though it may take a while to get used to himself. The thought strikes him. Is he still searching for Red John? Is he still killing people, or did he find him?
He washes his hands while still staring at himself, he then cups his hands, and after filling them with water he rinses his face. It even feels different. The changes are subtle but they're there. He grabs a towel and dries himself and leaves the bathroom. As he pushes his iv pole back against the bed, he notices for the first time the label stuck to it. Austin Travis County integral care. He almost falls on to the bed in shock. Austin! That's in Texas! What's he doing in Texas? And Lisbon too? It does explain the accents. Boy what had they given them that he hadn't questioned the accents.
Memories flash before his eyes, they make no sense. He lays down on the bed, his hands under his head and closes his eyes. He slows his breathing, he mentally moves the flashes of memories to one side. He conjures up his memory palace, then pulls the memories forward one by one. He studies them, puts them together to form pictures, moving them around until they make sense.
He killed Red John. He takes a moment to savour the event. It felt good, still feels good. McCallister! What a snivelling fool he turned to be. CBI was dismantled, he went away, then a job offer with the FBI, he brought Lisbon back. A broad smile breaks across his face, he's getting there.
He turns towards the door as it creaks open. The woman who appears to be his assigned nurse enters. She smiles at him.
"You're looking better."
"I'm doing much better."
"That's great. Your wife will be very happy when she comes in."
He sits straight up, his eyes wide with surprise..
"My wife?!"