Don't hit me, I hate cliffhangers too. I really didn't realize how cruel that one was until people started telling me, and I guess since I already had a few ideas in my mind about how to write the next chapter, I didn't see it. Sorry about that!

I'm also sorry it took me so long to update this. In my defense, I had told you it would...

Thanks so much to everyone who followed/ reviewed (I love reviews guys, thank you!)/ favourited the first chapter! I sure hope you won't be disappointed with this one ^^

xxxxx

Chapter 2

"We should discuss this, first."

I knew it. I knew I shouldn't have brought up that stupid family thing, but I didn't do it on purpose.

Now he's going to want to talk about the whole idea, starting with the golden elephant on his finger. He's going to tell me how much I mean to him but that he'll always love Angela and Charlotte – which I understand – and that I'll always be second to them – which I'm trying to understand. I've loved him for a long time, and I know I should insist more on my place in his life. . .
But how do you do that? How do you tell a widower you want him to cut off his links with his former life? Even if that's not what I mean, it's probably how he'll take it, right? That kind of thing has to come from him. Still, it's been several months now since we're together. . . and nothing has happened.

And he wants to talk about it now, of all times, in the middle of our very first fight.

"Doesn't have anything to do with your ring," I mumble, lying so unconvincingly I think he might laugh.

Scratch that. He actually looks. . . annoyed. He tries to cool it down without really hiding it from me, and his eyes don't leave mine after he's rolled them.

"It does, Teresa. We haven't talked about having a family, ever. Yet you seem to already know things I don't about our future and our relationship. And I'm fairly certain it has a lot to do with me wearing this specific piece of jewelry. . ."

I have no clue what to answer to that. Damn you, Jane.
He understands my discomfort and helps me out.

"Ok, let's start simple then. How much does it bother you?"

"It doesn't!" I say defensively.
And again, he looks exactly like me when I know he's pulling one over at work. It's not a look I'm used to seeing on him, and I don't have his arrogance to hide behind. I can't ignore the shame I feel right now. I sigh and fold.

"Fine, it does. Of course it does, especially when people see us holding hands and stare. I feel like I'm the otherwoman, and you're the married lover who cares so little about both women in his life, he doesn't even take his wedding ring off when he's out with his mistress."

I see him frown, and the pain in his eyes surprises me. Hadn't he noticed? That's not possible; Jane litteraly spends his life watching everyone's behavior, and of the two of us he's the one more likely to. . . Oh. He did notice. He just didn't expect me to.
I'm insulted but I don't listen to my hurt ego and focus on what I was initially going to say.

"But most of the time, I get it, Jane. I really do. You miss your family, and I understand that it's hard to move on and that even when that's done, you won't want another one. Obviously, it would never be enough; I would never be. . ."

His face suddenly shows so much shock and rage I can't help but feel a little frightened. His sharp eyes glare at me. I can't talk anymore.

"Teresa, I'm warning you," he says through clenched teeth, "do not finish that sentence."

I almost snap at him. Really, Patrick Jane is threatening me? This is exactly as it's always been: no matter what I say or do, he doesn't care about my point of view. He just wants things to be done his way. But he's not the only one who's unhappy here, and I've had enough! I should be able to express my opinion on our relationship without. . .

The hands I love so much are suddenly toying with my hair, bringing me back to now, and I can see he's almost smiling.

"Please, calm down. I wasn't threatening you. I just never want to hear those words. I'm not angry at you for thinking them; I simply feel. . . ashamed."

He's not smiling anymore, and the soft tone of his voice lets me see how much he means his next words.

"You need to understand this. I don't just like you, or consider you a fun distraction in my grieving existence. I don't think you're a replacement either, or a way for me to reenact what I used to have with Angela, or whatever other horrible and completely wrong scenario you've made up in your mind." He pauses and cups my face in his hands, stroking the pulse point in my neck with his pinkie. "I love you, Teresa. And you're more than enough. To this day, I'm still not sure I deserve you."

He grins and for a moment, everything is fine in the world. Until that beautiful smart-ass seems to be under the impression that opening his mouth again is a good idea. He must be unusually nervous, because it's really more ranting than talking.

"You can't keep beating yourself up for no reason; you've been doing that for way too long. I don't know why though; it's honestly one of the things that frustrate me the most about you. Might have something to do with your childhood, it would certainly explain a lot, but. . ."

Oh, no you don't. I was about to calm down, to understand what he meant. But I can't control myself anymore when I hear that. I see red, stand up as fast as I can and swing back at him, shouting louder than I meant to.

"Your turn to shut up, Patrick!"

He's startled by my reaction and my calling him by his first name in such a situation, and he recoils a bit.
Well, surprise, Patrick Jane. You don't know me as well as you think.

"We are not going to talk about this, do you hear me? I never bring up things that I know hurt you unless you need or want me to, and right now the last thing I want is for you to casually mention that! It is none of your buisness, Jane!"

He stands up too and reacts much more violently than I thought he would.

"That's exactly the problem here! We both want us to be in a real, serious relationship, but you're not willing to really open up to me!" He comes a little closer and turns the volume of his voice back to normal. "I might have been a secretive bastard in the past, but I've been making progress in that regard. For you. You, on the other hand. . . I am not judging you, Teresa. But it did take you more than three months of the two of us basically living together to tell me you loved me, and I'm pretty sure the very reason you finally said it out loud was because I proved to you I cared about your brothers. You had been protecting yourself from me until then. Which is why I think 'you and I' has as much to do with your past as it has to do with mine."

I stare at him, my face still hot from my outburst, and quietly think about it. And again, I think he's right. He just probably doesn't realize how much he is. . .

When I fell in love with Greg in high school, I was completely head over heels for him and we spent almost all of our time together. We were young and stupid, and when he asked me to marry him, I was just so happy to have met the Prince Charming who could take me away from what was happening at home, that I said yes immediately.
It all went south one day, as I was shopping for my wedding dress with a friend. I wanted it to look like my mother's; my parent's wedding picture being one of the few I'd managed to save from my father's drunken rage. . . And she looked amazing. When we found a close match and I tried it on, it all changed. One second I was Teresa, the most excited 19 years old bride-to-be, the next I was staring at a perfect replica of Nora Lisbon, same age, on the happiest day of her life.
It was like someone had punched me in the stomach. All I could think about was how the man she'd married this young had become a monster when she hadn't been around anymore, because he couldn't stand losing her. My father was not a good man, at least not anymore, but children are supposed to learn important things from their parents, no matter who they are. What if this was just a way to repeat past mistakes? Had I learnt nothing from my upbringing?

This moment was the first time – and definitely not the last one – that I ever thought to myself that yes, love might be as great as they all say it is, but it can also be the end of you.
I thought Greg was the one for me; I was sure we felt for each other what my parents had felt. What if I ever lost him? What if I turned into another version of my dad? The man who, when I'd had my first crush in fourth grade, had made me swear in spite of my mother shaking her head and rolling her eyes at him, that he would always be number one in my little heart; the man who'd ruined it all repeatedly in the last few years? This was my biggest fear, and the main reason for my becoming such a control freak.
I had left the store as fast as I had been able to. When I'd gotten home to my eternally trashed father, I'd found a letter from the Police Academy telling me I had made it into their program. That had been the beginning of a new life, centered around good, solid things like my work, and not unreliable feelings such as love.

Marcus was the second man I was ever engaged to. Although I'm more ashamed than nostalgic when I think back to both his proposal and my over the phone acceptance of it – and I'd rather not think of his reaction at all. We had a relationship, of course we did: went out on dates, talked about the future, eventually planned to live together and get married... But as great a man as he was, I never loved him.
I liked him. He was confident when it came to us dating, he was honest, and he told me point blank he wanted to spend his life with me – several times. In other words, he was exactly what I needed Jane to be at the time while he was too busy pretending to be happy for me.
It wasn't only that, even if it took me longer to acknowledge the other reason I went along with it all. I also knew Marcus would never cause me the sharpest kind of emotional pain, not because he was the best man on the planet, not even because he was predictable; but because since I wasn't really in love with him, there wasn't any way he could ever break my heart like my father had, like Greg could have. Like Jane who first cracked it on small occasions, and then shattered it with the Las Vegas fiasco.

Jane. The man I have loved and still love so much, even when he didn't deserve more than my indifference. I can't remember a day, since I met him, when I haven't been worrying about him, his sanity, our friendship and the fact that I wanted it to be so much more and wasn't supposed to.
Greg was my first love; Jane is the love of my life. And I would never have felt this way if it hadn't been for a serial killer's horrible actions against his wife and daughter.

I let my eyes wander on his handsome features and his gorgeous curly hair. He's broken, he thinks he's a bad man and that he owes me because I have tried to fix him for as long as I've known him. But I owe him too, and right now he deserves to hear the truth.

"Look, Jane, I've been hurt by. . . I've been hurt before. Sometimes by you." He looks away but I take another step towards him to make him understand I won't have it. "I'm not trying to make you feel guilty about our past, ok? I don't keep scores, you know that. But even if I know you're trying to be more honest with me and I understand that it's hard, you still hide things from me, including what happened at the hotel today. And I admit you wearing your ring after all this time and knowing what we've become to each other. . . It hurt a little. But then, you're right, you did everything you could for both Stan and Jimmy, and you helped me through that whole mess, too. You made me brave enough to take a risk, after all these years, and I said it."

I sigh and tears well up in my eyes. He stands awkwardly, not daring to touch me I guess, because he knows I'm not done.

"I didn't know it at the moment, I swear! But afterwards, I realized a part of me was waiting for you to do something about the ring. And today, you went behind my back again, you chose what you thought was safer for me and didn't warn me. You tried to control me again, and I hate that, Jane. And yes, it may be because of my past, but it doesn't mean I want to bring it out and discuss the details with you. I don't. . . I don't want to relive it. I need some time until I'm ready to talk about my family, too."

I want to slap myself for letting that much vulnerability show, as I can't stop the water from running down my face, but he suddenly throws his arms around me and hugs me as tight as he can.

I don't push him away. I'm mad at him; we have issues heavier than I've ever had with any man and I'm not even sure we'll ever be able to resolve them. But I love him more than I can say, he stole my heart and soul long ago and until he said I was wrong about his intentions, I was even ready to give up the family I have always dreamt of. Not because I think I don't deserve it, but because I want him to be happy again, and I don't ever want to be responsible for him being in any kind of pain.

His are the only arms I could never walk away from, no matter what's going on between us. It might also have a bit to do with the strength he puts in the embrace, and the fire his fingertips never fail to send through my veins when we touch.
I let my hands wander to his back and grab pieces of his shirt, burying my head in his chest and crying silently.
I love you so much, you stupid man.

"I love you too, baby," he whispers low; and I let out a strangled chuckle.

He pulls back so I can see he's cried too, and kisses my forehead. We quietly move back to lay on the bed, on our sides so we can face each other and stay as close as possible.
A few minutes later, Jane's the first one who feels able to speak again.

"It's ironic, though," he says, amused.

Half asleep as I was, it takes me some time to understand what he said. I move up so my face is right in front of his, and frown.

"You didn't dare to show your true self to me because I was wearing my ring," he explains as his right hand draws meaningless, ticklish patterns on my hip. "And the only reason I was still wearing it, was because I didn't think you were ready for the kind of commitment it would mean when I actually take it off."

The humor is totally gone from his voice now.

"I want to do it, Teresa. I really do. And I know Ang. . . " He takes a deep breath and his sad smile breaks my heart a little while he looks above my shoulder. "She would want me to do it. And. . . Charlotte would want her dad to be happy. I know she would; she was a lot smarter than most kids her age!"

His proud intonation first makes me angry that he never got to see Charlotte grow up. But Jane got his revenge, Red John was punished for what he did and he's trying to heal, as much as he can. All I feel now is sadness, and I just want to make him feel better.

"I'm sure she was," I breath out, caressing his face in the soothing movements I often use when he has one of his nightmares. "I didn't know you back then, Jane, but I'm willing to bet you were the best father a little girl could dream of."

He looks back at me and makes us both sit up, his skin suddenly much paler.
He mutters a thank you and slowly, his wonderful, honest blue glance never leaving mine, he takes my right hand in his and places my index and thumb on his ring beneath his own.

My heart quickens and I'm almost panting with anxiety. I don't hide it though, because he seems to relax a little as he realizes I'm restless too. He doesn't say a word but takes a slow, long breath in and I imitate him. Then he expires the same way and I follow again as calmly as I can, swallowing my gasp of surprise as I feel the cold metal moving barely an inch against both our skins.

He repeats the action again and again, pulling the wedding band a little closer to the tip of his finger every time. When it's finally there, I hesitantely extend my hand since both his are busy, and he drops the small object in my open palm.
We both look down at it and stay silent for what feels like hours.

Then he takes it reverently, gets up and puts it in one of the mini-kitchen's drawers before he comes back to me. I must be staring at him a little too oddly because his voice is suddenly shy.

"I'm not leaving it in here forever. I just don't know what to do with it yet."

"Hey, you don't have to justify yourself to me, Jane" I tell him gently. "You'll figure it out eventually." I'm not sure I should, but I throw a last thought out there. "Just like we'll figure how to work things out, too. But no more lying to me, and I mean that. I'll take less risks for now, and we'll think about a long-term solution later. Ok?"

He nods with conviction, then smiles and kisses me, his lips a feather-like touch on mine.

"We really suck at this communicating thing, don't we?" he whispers, beaming.

"That, we do," I answer, a little breathless under his now lustful gaze. "All this mess for nothing."

"Hmm. . . It's crazy how something as little as a ring can cause so much trouble, huh?"

He leans a little more towards me and joins our mouthes before my jacket ends up on the floor. He rolls me on my back so he can lay on top of me, but I still have enough self-control to pull back.

"Hey, Patrick, I never meant it like that," I start to apologize for my poor choice of word. After all, his wedding band is not 'nothing', and neither is his marriage to Angela. I don't want him to think that's what I wanted to say.

"Relax, love, I know," He kisses the tip of my nose. "Besides, I like to get in trouble anyway."

"Right," I laugh. "That whole mess of a relationship is just another fine pickle you got yourself in, then?"

He blinds me with one of his biggest smile, as he obviously remembers that day in the airport interrogation room. He playfully lets his tongue trace my lips and moves back right before I can respond properly.

"Oh, you got that all wrong, sweetheart. Stopping a plane to tell the woman you love how you feel about her is a pickle. Kissing her senseless in an interrogation room even after the TSA officer told you not to, is a pickle. Trying to figure out how to ask her to marry you? Now that's a whole new level of trouble."

My eyes go wide and I push up on my elbows so I can fully look at him. Did I hear that right?

"What? Are.. Jane, are you..?" I stammer out, feeling light-headed.

"Proposing? Of course not, silly." He strokes my cheek with his hand, partly because he wants to, partly because he must know he's going to regret calling me that later.
"I don't even have a ring. How ridiculous would I be, proposing without a ring?" He snorts a disdainful laugh and I try not to think of Marcus. "I'll probably want your opinion on it, too. This way we'll get to chose it together and, I love Cho, but it will thankfully erase that horrible memory of you two in that store during the jewelry case. Brr."

He half-fakes a shiver, and I blush a little at the thought. Yep, I love Kimball too, but he's like another brother to me. This had been... awkward to say the least.

"I'm just putting the idea out here for both of us to think about," he continues. He suddenly looks afraid. "I hope. . . I hope it's alright?"

I can't help but smile at him, trying to stay calm on the outside while a thousand versions of myself jump and squeal in my head. Patrick Jane is insecure because he wants to marry me?! No, it's not alright; it should make a national freaking holiday of that date!

I know he really needs an answer, but it's not like I can trust my voice right now. Instead I grab his hair and pulls him down to me, and I kiss his lips. Once. Twice. On the third time, I feel his mouth moving against mine and his teeth suddenly grab my lower lip, preventing me from moving away again.

We both groan and Jane lets his passion take over.
He almost brutally lays me back on the bed, pining my body to it with his own. The kiss deepens, and his skillful hands ridding me of my now uncomfortable blouse make me sigh with pleasure. That kind of a reaction from me, a tell-tale of how ridiculously responsive I am to his ministrations, usually makes him chuckle. Not tonight, though; he's apparently too lost into the moment to take the necessary distance.

And I get why he's being like that. The case and our talk about both his tragic past and what could happen to me in the future in our current occupation give him no choice but to try and reassure himself this way. By kissing and touching me, realizing that I'm really here, alive and well; that I'm going to stay with him and that I'm considering his needs as much as mine in this relationship.

So I relinquish control totally, close my eyes and let him act in that very special mood of his, the one he still rarely shows to me because it makes him vulnerable.
He kisses, nibbles my face and neck with care and adoration and that strong, almost animal possessiveness that tells me he's not letting me go anywhere for a few hours. His hands are everywhere on my body, speeding up my heart until it's in unison with his. I know he doesn't believe in God or fate, but I could swear his worshipping me physically like that is a sort of a prayer, as if he was asking the universe to keep me safe from the many dangers of this world.

Eyelids still closed and mind now flooded with arousal, it's a miracle that I manage to register his mouth leaving mine for longer than in the previous minutes. I let out a protesting cry, that almost instantly turns into a very loud moan as the wetness of his tongue reaches my nipple.
Where the hell did my bra go? I open heavy lids to get the answer that question, and incredulously notice I have lost every other piece of clothing I was wearing, too. Seems I've been a lot more out of it than I thought. I stop caring when with a fluid, wanton movement of his hips, he makes me realize he's as naked as I am.

xxxxx

Ok, I know I took the coward way out of the leaving law enforcement issue, because a)I feel like I've drown myself into something already heavily emotional enough again in that fic (I don't seem to control what I write), b)This wasn't titled "little career problems", was it? I wanted to deal with the ring issue mostly and c)frankly I don't see how they can resolve it yet, I did see a post of Pellegrina on tumblr bringing up an idea that I like very much, and I might borrow sometime.

I didn't write either "the end" or "to be continued", because I just don't know. With the 710 promo (if you haven't seen it and hate spoilers don't watch it!) and what we know of it so far, I'm honestly a bit lost.
If there ever is a third chapter, it won't be here before a while because I'm starting my second week of finals on Monday.

Don't forget to review, I really want to know what you thought of this!