heavy lids shut to the feather light touch of her lips to his skin, perhaps to better focus on her words and the meaning they carry. for all the devious games he's been known to play in his consulting career and the unbreakable front he's shielded himself with for so many years, he's always strived for teresa lisbon's approval. and soon the routine would settle, patrick turning to teresa to gauge her every expressions, decipher the smile in the roll of her eyes, translate the disappointment of her silence, read the momentary admiration in the tension of her jaw. lisbon. lisbon. lisbon. he always returned to lisbon. not angela or charlotte anymore. and he'd seen it AS A BETRAYAL AT FIRST, guilt justifying further self-harm, pushing him away from her, from the team, shutting him from all that could be good.
a sight they are, wiping away memories with every tear rolling down their cheek, exchanging heartfelt promises of love and affection. HOPE FOR TOMORROW. a lazy smile pulls on the corner of his mouth at her retort to the tease he could never resist making after the whole marcus-pike fiasco. layers of pretend self assurance aside, it's pride that justifies the behavior, patrick pleased that he should have been the one to conquer her heart and he reopens his eyes to the shift of his hair on his brow. fiery agent lisbon's always had the touch of an angel. eyes return to the ceiling at her question prompting his instinct to bite down his lip, tense his muscles, seal his mouth. but he has to remind himself he's agreed to be honest, that she more than deserves a truth that the moment's finally called for.
he rubs his eyes and groans lightly to sit upright on the bed, looks to her with a nostalgic half-grin and grips her wrist as he lowers himself from bed to floor, elbows on his knees and back against the bed frame before he gently pulls her down with him. ❝ join me, lisbon. ❞ how very patrick jane of him to seek shelter in his environment, the secluded space between bed and wall backed by teresa's presence close against him and he shifts his grip to her knee. ❝ you did help. you made it easier for me to chase mcallister. and i don't think i would have wanted you to be there when ... ❞ for one, devious as he was, RED JOHN might have easily found a way to put lisbon in harm's way only to further patrick's pain. ❝ when i killed him. i don't want you to think of me as a murderer. ❞ which, by definition, he is one; blood on his hands and the life of a monster man on his conscience hard enough to bear without her witnessing the act. ❝ you helped from the day you stepped between me and steve hannigan and let me look at your files. you've helped every minute of every day since then. ❞ he wouldn't have asked her to put her career on the line for his sake this time, not when the stakes were so high. ❝ and i called you because ... after all those years it was finally over. it was done. he was dead and in that moment, all i could think of was you. ❞ YOU. YOU. YOU. always you. he looks back at her with a furrowed brow and a tense jaw. the hand on her knee shifts down her thigh. ❝ what did you ... how did it make you feel, knowing he was dead? ❞
@martyir. / cont.
