A/N: Hey! So first off, I was attempting, futilely, to write the second chapter of "Choices", when this came about. It's just this completely random oneshot that got stuck in my brain and kept prodding and poking me until I finally sat down and wrote it.

Plus, I was watching season one, and I came to what is probably my favourite episode EVER, (besides "Rose-Coloured Glasses") Bloodshot. This is sort of a spin-off of that episode, where Lisbon is blind. It's set a good bit after that. And it's post RJ, because those are the best type. :D It's not post finale by the way. It's definitely AU, if the finale is anything to go by.

Be warned, there are a small few bad words. Not too sure of the rating, so I'm leaving it T.

Unashamedly fluffy, 'cos I'm a sucker for it, 'specially with all the angst of the finale, which we STILL haven't seen in Ireland. :( And both Jane and Lisbon are OOC, but I don't care. This is the Jisbon of my dreams. :D

I don't own it by the way. Why couldn't I be Bruno Heller?

Enjoy!

"You should be at home woman."

The reprimanding yet teasing voice of Patrick Jane registered with Teresa Lisbon as she was led into the bullpen by Dwight, the African-American, burly security guard for the CBI. She clenched her grip on the "walking implement" they had provided her with at the hospital (she point-blank refused to refer to it as a walking stick), as she reached what she understood to be one of the many poles randomly dispersed around the offices.

"Here we are ma'am. Have a nice day."

She thanked him curtly, as she leaned against the pole, sighing deeply.

"I mean, really Lisbon. Who comes to work when they're blind?"

She chuckled sarcastically. Hypocritical, annoying, pain-in-the-ass. Blind she was. Only temporary damage according to the doctor. But she was blind nonetheless. To say that she hated it would be a grievous understatement. She was Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon of the CBI. She didn't do blind.

"I'm sorry? This coming from you? I distinctly remember when you were blind. Leaving hospital without any authorisation, barging into interviews left, right and centre and generally causing chaos. And you say I should be at home?"

Infuriating man. She so wasn't in the mood for him now, all smug and superior because he could see and she couldn't. If anyone should've been blind it should have been him. He had been the cause of it after all. How many times had she told him that baiting suspects was NOT a good idea? Countless.

And yet he still defied her, knowing full well that Mulvihill was armed and dangerous, and had a grudge against women officers of the law. Luckily, or unluckily, as the case may be, the blow to her head had only been a concussion, but when she awoke she found that everything was black.

"Well, yes. I mean, what can you do here when you're blind? Certainly not paperwork or interviews. And 'keeping an eye on you' isn't really an answer my dear because that is a contradiction in terms."

She cursed the man and his common sense. She could imagine the grin stretched across his face as he enjoyed yet another triumph over her. Whatever. She was still staying. He wasn't getting rid of her that easy.

"So? I'm still not going Jane, and you can't make me." She added petulantly as an afterthought.

Jane didn't reply. Good. That showed him.

"Van Pelt! Where are we with Mulvihill?"

She heard a stifled snigger. She could only guess, but she estimated that it came from around Rigsby's desk and it sounded suspiciously like Jane. God, she loathed being blind like this. She felt powerless.

Suddenly, before she could yell at him, she felt a warm hand slip into her left hand (her right was still clutching her walking "implement"), and felt her body being dragged towards what she could only assume was her office. She had no choice but to be led to wherever it was that Jane was taking her. It was, of course, undoubtedly him. No-one else would dare grab her as he had.

He stopped suddenly and turned her, so that she was facing the direction from which they had come. He pushed lightly at her shoulders.

"Sit woman."

She would've rolled her eyes, had they not been covered in gauze and bandages. She lowered herself gingerly, cautiously down, fearing that it was some practical joke cooked up by the man to embarrass her. She wouldn't put it past him.

She heard the door click shut, the hustle and bustle of the CBI barricaded from entering the quiet of her office. She heard footsteps draw closer, and then halt abruptly.

"You are going home."

She sighed heavily. This again.

"No I'm not Jane, and you can't make me."

She felt the air around her move, and heard the crack of knees, as Jane lowered himself to the ground in front of her, she presumed.

"Old man."

He chuckled heartily. She gulped as he placed a warm hand on her knee. When he spoke again his face was inches from hers, his hot breath fanning her face. She felt her heart rate increase at his close proximity. She only hoped that he couldn't hear it too.

"Oh yes you are, and who says I can't make you?"

His voice was smooth and seductive, a tone he employed when he wanted to charm old widows into revealing all of their secrets or when hoping to get his own way with her.

"I do."

She was determined to stay strong, not to falter when he was making her feel the way that he was. That man would be the death of her. She felt him approaching, geting closer and closer, until his lips lightly brushed hers.

"You are going home," he uttered triumphantly against her lips, as she didn't pull away, an air of finality about him. "You're going home, and I am taking the rest of the day off to look after you. Don't worry, I cleared it with Hightower."

He pressed his lips to hers again, forcefully this time, stifling any argument or protestation she may have come up with. Bastard. How many times had she told him that kissing her in the office was strictly forbidden, on pain of death? That didn't change, just because she was blind. Hell, it made it worse, because she couldn't see for God's sake! What if someone walked in on them, saw them through the window? Only he would know. And Jane with that amount of power was never a good thing. But hell, who was she to complain, when his tongue was moving against hers, the way it was, doing sinful, sinful things?

"Mmm," he mumbled against her lips.

"Oh God woman, we're going home. Now."

He pulled away abruptly, and before she knew it, the door had clicked open again, and she heard him tussling with the blinds. Godammit, how had she missed that before? Of course he had closed the blinds. He probably had planned this ambush as soon as she entered the bullpen.

"Uh, Jane," she began, when she realised that a) he hadn't returned to her side, and b) she couldn't find her implement to get up herself.

"Jane?" she repeated when he didn't reply. "Still blind over here."

"JANE!"

She felt his hand slip around her waist, and the other take her hand as he gently pulled her off of the sofa. She inhaled his scent, manly and spicy, and a hint of something just so Jane thrown in the mix, as he pulled her towards him, and enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm sorry," he whispered softly in her ear. "I could've gotten you killed, he could have hurt you in so many ways, I-I could have lost you Teresa, before I'd ever truly had you and I didn't know what to do."

He paused to take a breath and Lisbon could feel the shudder of his body against hers.

"When you were unconscious, just lying on the floor motionless, I was so scared. And I knew it was all my fault. Again.

"Jane-" she tried to interrupt. The pain in his voice was too much. Here he was, yet again blaming himself.

"No, please, let me finish. It was my fault. Don't say otherwise, because it was. And I'll do anything to make sure that you know that I'm sorry, I'll beg, anything for your forgiveness. I can't lose you, Teresa."

His voice was sombre and sincere, the sincerest he had been since he arrived at her doorstep two months ago, shivering as he told her that he was in love with her and he wanted to be with her. That was a night she wasn't likely to forget any time soon. The urgency of his words, the featherlight touch of his hands, the sweetness of his kiss, the memory of that night washed over her and she found herself squeezing him tighter to herself.

"I'm here Patrick. I'm not going anywhere. And I forgive you."

She felt the release of the breath that he had been holding inside on her cheek.

"Although," her voice teasing, yet simultaneously reprimanding, "I told you not to annoy him. Sometimes I think that when I expressly tell you not to do something, you do the opposite anyway, just to annoy me."

This was what was apparently needed to perk him up again, as he released his hold on her, laughing freely.

"Of course not, my dear. What on Earth would make you think that?"

He clasped her hand around her walking implement. and kissed her lightly, as they walked out her office door. As she cried out in protest, he laughed.

"Don't worry woman. They're gone to lunch."

"And that makes it better." she replied sardonically, as he led her into the elevator.

"Oh, hey Lisbon," he said as the doors pinged shut.

"Yeah?"

"You're blind."

She snorted derisively.

"How very observant of you Jane. Now I understand Hightower's reasons for keeping you around."

He chuckled good-naturedly at her retort.

"You know my dear, I believe I've told you before about sarcasm being the lowest form of wit. And I know you love having me around." He winked as he said this, despite the fact that Lisbon wouldn't be able to see it. She'd sense it though.

"Besides," he continued. "I was merely about to point out, before you so rudely interrupted me, that because of your.. predicament, you will be rather incapable of driving."

She felt the smile brought about by her sarcastic retort previously, slide off of her face.

"Oh God no. If you drive me anywhere Jane, it'll be in the SUV, or the Mustang, because you can kiss your forgiveness and day in bed goodbye if you drive me anywhere in that piece of crap that you call a car."

"I'm wounded. You've wounded me Lisbon. A; you insulted my car. An unforgivable and grievous offence. I'm just glad that you weren't near her when you said it. Glenda is far less accustomed to your cutting remarks than I. B; I'm shocked and slightly hurt that you would think that my sole reason for taking you home was so I could strip you naked and have my wicked way with you."

He grinned cheekily at the scarlet blush that now adorned her face. He only wished that he could see her eyes, her jade orbs that told him all he needed about her. no doubt they'd be twinkling, despite her embarrassment.

"Yes," he continued, "Doing so does feature in my plans for today, but I intended on having lunch beforehand. But if you want to skip lunch and move straight on to dessert and a repeat performance of last night, then I would be only too happy to oblige."

Damn the man. She could feel her cheeks reddening even harder as the memory, the sensations of last night came flooding back. Turned out she was right about the handcuffs. They really were more fun when you were naked.

"Down boy. We're still at the office, remember? Wouldn't want you to have an accident now, would we?

She could give as good as she got. She grinned widely at her triumph over him and his lack of verbal response, (he chose instead to pinch her lightly on the arm.)

As the elevator dinged open, he grabbed her hand again. (Obviously for purely professional reasons. To lead her safely to her car and then drive her safely home and direct her, again safely, up the path and then fumble with her keys [his in actuality], because she couldn't, before finally shoving her against the wall and kissing her senseless, so she'd know who he was, and where they were, before lifting her up and sprinting upstairs with her in his arms, for which he had no excuse. He had it all thought out.)

He sighed contentedly. He dropped a kiss on her cheek, before whispering a soft "I love you." She replied in kind with an equally sotto voce declaration, before hissing angrily.

"If anyone saw that, and I mean anyone, you're on the couch for a week. Got it?"

He laughed softly, before he pulled her off towards the car. (He wasn't going to anger her, so he headed for her Mustang.)

"Loud and clear, ma'am. But we both know that you wouldn't last two hours without me in your bed."

She shook her head in disbelief. Even if she couldn't see it, she was certain that his face was plastered with one of thouse superior grins he wore so well.

"Arrogant, smug jerk."

"Yeah, yeah," he responded nonchalantly as they reached the car. "That's why you love me."

So there we go. It's completely and utterly OOC, but as I said above, this is the Jisbon of my dreams. I hope you enjoyed it anyways, and if you did, or didn't, I'd still really love to hear from you! Incidentally, I wasn't too sure what make car that Lisbon drives, so I went with my gut.

I'll do my utmost to put the second chapter of "Choices" up soon! Until then, :D

Mash.