Days trail by peacefully, not a threat or hidden gunman popping up. Which should give Teresa some sense of relief, but instead it only hikes up her anxiety.

The person after Patrick could be anyone, and they could show up at any time. Maybe they are waiting carefully, diligently, counting the minutes until she leaves for work and they can attack him with nothing holding them back.

The urge to just quit her job is overwhelming, almost like she's being pulled under water and can't get her body to swim to the surface. But she knows she can't quit. It's her only source of income, the only way to keep her family afloat.

It feels a little different, the word family. Sure, she'd used that term before, when Evan was still around, but it wasn't exactly true. At least not in the last year. It was more of a word she used to get everyone off her back.

"Oh yeah, we're fine. My family is fine."

Now, the word family is something real, something she can say without a fake smile plastered on her face. She has a family now, one she wants so desperately to last forever.

Patrick makes sure to reassure her every night that he isn't going anywhere, and she is slowly starting to believe him.

It's a start of a new week, and Teresa is hesitating on going to work. She's taken many sick days, and if she called in one more time, she would for sure be fired, but she can't stand the thought of leaving Patrick and Theo alone.

Patrick doesn't seem to share her concern, though. He lay in bed, his torso bare and hair mussed from sleep. His bullet wound has healed nicely, only needing a thin strip of gauze to cover it. Soon it would be time to take it off.

"You don't need to worry," he assures her, his voice soothing. "Theo and I will be just fine, just like we have been these past two weeks."

Teresa still isn't convinced. Her teeth gnaws on her lower lip. "But what if something happens today? I really think I should stay here."

He chuckles and pushes himself into a straighter sitting position, reaching out to grab her hand and pull her body towards him. She hasn't finished getting dressed, so she is only clad in a tank top and underwear at the moment, and he takes full advantage of the exposed skin, trailing his fingers along the band of her underwear.

"Nothing is gonna happen, sweetheart. I promise." He pulls her onto his lap, being mindful of his wound. Dipping his head, he presses a kiss to her freckled shoulder. "You need to stop worrying so much."

"I can't not worry, Jane," she sighs, slightly irritated. "The person could show up at any time and kill you. And what if they go after Theo?" The thought hasn't crossed her mind until now, and suddenly all the breath rushed out of her lungs, her chest seizing.

Patrick grows instantly alarmed. "Teresa? Teresa, sweetheart, let's calm down, okay? Can you take a breath for me? Just copy me. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale."

She does as he shows her, gulping air into her lungs and breathing it out slowly. Her chest still hurts. Her eyes are flooding with tears, but she forces them not to fall.

"It's gonna be alright," he murmurs, raking his fingers through her hair as a way of comforting her. "Nothing will happen to Theo. He'll be safe, okay? I won't let anyone hurt him."

She swallows a painful lump in her throat. "I-I don't want anything to happen to either of you."

"Nothing will happen," he repeats. "You're thinking too much. Go to work and focus on that for a while. Everything will be the same when you get back. I'll even cook you your favorite meal for dinner, alright?"

"Okay," she nods, collecting herself. "Okay, I'll focus on work."

"Good." He plants a solid kiss on her lips before gently pushing her off of him. "Now get dressed. No one gets to see you like that except me."

She rolls her eyes, a telltale sign that she's no longer going to worry herself into insanity, and slips into her work clothes. He watches her, one arm folded beneath his head, a smile twitching on his lips.

She quickly catches him staring and quirks a brow. "What?"

"Just wondering how I got so lucky," he shrugs, nothing but the utmost sincerity in his words.

"Oh hush," she swats at him, but finds herself still smiling all the way to work.

XxX

The morning tiptoes by. Although he is no longer on bed rest, there's still not much to do, other than watch Theo watch cartoons and play with his race cars.

Tom Jerry is playing on the living room TV screen, Theo sitting directly in front of it, entranced like any other four year old would be. Patrick lounges on the couch, bored but content, his mind drifting to Teresa every now and then.

Last night, when she was sound asleep, he tried counting every freckle that dotted her body, but there were so many that he fell asleep himself while counting. He lost track of the number he'd gotten to—somewhere in the hundreds, he was sure—and he was now trying to make constellations out of them in his head.

Her body was a work of art. He'd never grow tired of admiring it. So many freckles, beauty marks, and scars. He could spend hours kissing each and every one.

"Pat?" Theo's voice yanks him out of his daze.

"Hmm?"

Theo twists his small body so he's facing Patrick. "Do you like Tom or Jerry more?"

He pretends to think, his finger tapping his chin. "Hm, well, I relate more to Tom, so I'd have to pick him."

"I like Tom too. He's funny." Theo turns back to the TV. A scene of Tom with his feline crush pops up, and the grey cat is so eager to do anything and everything to make her happy.

A laugh bubbles out of Theo. "Ha! Are you like this with my mom, Pat?" He whips back around with big, curious eyes.

"Yes," Patrick answers without hesitation. "I'd do anything to make your mom happy."

"I wish dad was like that," Theo mumbles, his face crumbling. "He used to make mama happy, but then he got mean. He made her cry and I don't think dads should make moms cry."

"They shouldn't," he says softly, hatred for Evan once again spiking in his gut. "Your dad is a stupid man who lost the best woman in the world."

Theo nods in agreement. "I wish you were my dad."

The innocent confession smacks Patrick in the face. Theo has already dismissed what he said, his attention back on the cartoon.

As he considers it, he realizes he wishes he was Theo's real dad as well. No child deserves a parent like Evan. He would've loved Theo on day one, never once thinking of hurting him or his mother.

But Evan is no longer in the picture, so perhaps he could fill in the role as Theo's father. The thought makes his heart sing with hope.

"Pat, I'm hungry." The four year old tears his eyes from the TV. "Can I have a sandwich?"

"Yeah, buddy, I'll go make you one." Patrick rises from the couch and heads into the kitchen, whistling a tune to himself as he retrieves the lunch meat and cheese from the fridge. As he turns around to face the counter, the sight of Teresa's ex-fiancè nearly knocks him off his feet.

Evan is standing in the kitchen, a pistol in hand, his eyes ablaze.

Patrick hadn't even heard him break in. His eyes fly to the sliding glass doors and curses himself for not locking them earlier.

"It's nice to see you again, Patrick," Evan drawls. "I see your wound is healing nicely."

Realization dawns on him as he glances down at his abdomen. He meets Evan's crazy eyes. "So you're the one who shot me."

Evan grins. "Ding ding ding, you are the winner."

"I should've known," Patrick says dryly.

"You really should have," Evan hums. "After all, you stole my wife and son from me. I have every right to want you dead."

"Teresa isn't your wife," Patrick protests, his eyes flicking to the pistol Evan had clutched in hand. "And they both don't want you, so I'm not exactly sure why you're still trying to get them back."

Evan waves him off. "Teresa will be my wife soon enough. And she may be angry with me now, but she'll get over it. She'll realize who she's meant to be with, and it's not you. I'm the one who can give them the life they want. You think they're gonna be happy with a down-on-his-luck con-artist like you?" Based off of Patrick's look of surprise, he smirked. "That's right, Patrick Jane, I did my research on you. You lost both your wife and daughter in a car accident, and you were the one driving. What makes you think you won't get Teresa and Theodore killed? Murder seems to be in your DNA."

"You don't deserve them," Patrick says faintly, trying hard not to dwell on the deaths of his past family. "You hurt them once, and we both know you're going to do it again. You don't give a shit about them. You just want to be in control of something, and what better way to feel powerful than to hurt an innocent woman and child?"

Evan chuckles humorlessly. "You think you know me, Patrick, but you don't. You think you have it all just because you're sleeping with my wife? You think you can just replace your dead family with mine? Teresa and Theodore are mine, and if I have to kill you to get you out of my way, then so be it."

Patrick's heart stops as Evan raises the pistol and points it at him, directly at his chest. He had missed the first time, but he won't miss again, he knows that much is certain.

"Perhaps I should feel a little sorry for you," Evan says with mock-sympathy. "Teresa should've known it would be impossible to get rid of me. So in a way, it's kind of her fault. But don't worry, I'll make her pay."

"Don't you hurt her," Patrick snarls. "You can pull that trigger and kill me, but if you lay a hand on her or Theo, I will drag you to hell with me."

"You seem very confident with a gun being pointed at you," Evan muses. "But nevermind that. I'm tired of chatting. As soon as you're gone, I can have my family back again."

"If you think Teresa will willingly go back to you, you're more insane than I thought."

"Then I guess I'll have to take her by force," Evan shrugs, his finger caressing the trigger.

Patrick holds his breath. He could be dead in a second. One second, and he'll never see Teresa and Theo again.

Bracing himself for death, he squeezes his eyes shut and shoots a prayer to a God he doesn't believe in to make sure Teresa and Theo get away, get somewhere safe. Maybe Grace and Wayne can help them hide. He just hopes they'll do whatever it takes to get away from Evan.

A gunshot echoes, and he expects to feel pain, but there's none. Thinking he's just in shock, he opens his eyes and looks down warily, but there's no blood, either.

He lifts his head and finds Teresa standing in the kitchen with her gun pointing at a dead Evan, her eyes wild and chest heaving. Evan lays in a pool of his own blood, his eyes wide and blankly staring at nothing.

"I killed him," she says, her voice as soft as a whisper. "Oh my God, I killed him."

Patrick rushes over to her, being careful not to step in the fresh blood, and brings her shaking body into his arms. She buries her face in his neck, her breathing erratic, but she doesn't cry.

"It's alright, honey, it's alright," he soothes, his eyes locked on the lifeless body on the floor. "It's over. He's gone. We won."

"I can't believe I killed him," she croaks, lifting her head to look him in the eyes. "I didn't want to. I hate him and I wanted him to go to prison, but he was about to kill you and— "

"I know," he cuts her off, brushing her sweaty curls out of her face. "You did the right thing. He can't hurt you anymore."

"Theo," she gasps, pulling herself out of his arms and racing into the living room. The four year old had been watching the whole thing while hiding behind the wall, and he looks frazzled but not traumatized.

Teresa scoops him into her arms and hugs him to her. "Are you okay? Did he try to hurt you?"

Theo shakes his head wordlessly. He's staring at his dead father and even Patrick can't read the emotions flashing on his face.

"Is he dead?" His voice is small.

Teresa sighs. "I wish you hadn't seen it happen, but yes, baby, he's gone."

"So he's not coming back?"

"No, he's not."

Theo looks away and nuzzles his face into his mother's neck. He doesn't seem to care that his father's dead. Not a single tear in sight. But Teresa comforts him anyway, though it's more for her own benefit.

"How did you know he was here?" Patrick asks after he calls the police.

She still looks shaken, and he wraps his arms around her again, Theo squished in between them. "I just had a gut feeling something bad was going to happen. I raced home as fast as I could and saw him pointing a gun at you. I had to kill him, I just had to."

"I know," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Sirens blare in the distance. "The most important thing is he's gone now. It's not your fault."

"I'm just glad this is over," she says, her voice muffled by Theo's shirt.

"Me too," he says, hugging the both of them close. "Me too."