A/N: Hey there! Welcome to my second Mentalist fanfic. Thanks to those of you who've reviewed the first one. Hopefully this one will be happier--eventually, you might have to be patient! And it has chapters!

Disclaimer: Not mine. Neither is the title. It's the title of a song by Jim Noir.

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Chapter One: Fools in Love

Fools in love, are there any other kinds of lovers?

Fools in love, is there any other kind of pain?

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Her mother used to say that falling in love was exhilarating, intoxicating, magical. She promised that it was the best feeling in the entire world. A younger Lisbon, at twelve, believed her wholeheartedly.

Adult Lisbon thinks it's a load of bull.

She thinks she is (maybe, possibly, perhaps?) in love and it sure as hell isn't magical or intoxicating or any of that nonsense. To be perfectly blunt, it kind of sucks. She has to wonder if her mother (no offense, Mom) was deluded.

Then again, her mother wasn't in love with Patrick Jane. Teresa, however, is (a little, kind of, sort of?) and she definitely doesn't have the whole starry eyed and love-struck thing going on. Quite the opposite, really. In the movies, being in love (if she is in love…maybe she's not, right?) makes people want to sing and dance and tell the whole world.

She's perfectly content pretending the entire thing doesn't exist. Despite what he says, she can be a good liar, especially to herself. And even if he does notice something, he won't do anything about it. It would ruin the whole pretty boy, charm-oozing, emotionally distant jackass routine he's got going on.

So even if he knows (if there's anything to know…) he won't say.

At any rate, she's too old to believe a mother's fairy tale and she's learning firsthand that being in love isn't all it's cracked up to be. Especially when the object of your affections is utterly, completely, without a doubt unavailable (because he is, isn't he?).

She never set out to love him. Maybe that's why they call it falling in love. It's not something you do on purpose. It happens to you, even if you don't want it. And she certainly (probably, maybe) didn't ask for it. He's Patrick Jane, after all. Egotistical, out of control, vengeful maniac.

Goddamn it she's an idiot. A klutz when it comes to love—falling when it's possibly the most dangerous. Wipeout. Man overboard. Down she goes…

She's in love with him (god, she really is, isn't she?) and she doesn't even know why. He's certainly not her type. The opposite, in fact. Then again, she can't help but remember what an old roommate once said about types. No one really has a Type, Teresa. We just think we do to play it safe. There are no types, only people.

She wonders what her friend would say about Jane.

But, regardless of types or no types, she has feelings for Jane. She has to admit it, if only to herself. Knowing him, he probably figured it out ages ago and is just waiting to see what she'll do. He certainly won't make a move (he won't, right?); he has Red John to think about. He can't allow himself to be distracted (sidetracked, romanced, seduced) by agents with abandonment issues and a tendency to over-analyze.

She spends a lot of her time constructing a carefully controlled façade of control and confidence. She is the cool and collected, tough-as-nails (because she has to be) Agent Lisbon. She's steady and controlled and in charge. She likes rules and sticks to them.

And she's in love with Patrick Jane. Her egotistical, irritating, slightly maniacal (handsome, charming, compassionate) consultant with a damning, dangerous, horrifying (sometimes helpful, heroic) disregard for the rules.

Dear god, what has she gotten herself into?

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A/N 2: Thanks for reading. Chapter title and lyrics at the beginning are from Inara George's Fools in Love.