This is a (very) belated birthday gift to my friend Amber (Iloveplotbunnies). It's quite long for a one shot but she liked it and as I'm on a bit of a hiatus (sorry to anyone reading Froda!) I thought I might as well just put this out there :)

Human Punch Bag

As Lisbon technically wasn't allowed to punch Patrick Jane - technically in that she shouldn't but everyone understood her desire - she often found herself attacking the punch bag in the C.B.I gym. Generally, she found she got the best workout when she pictured his face, but she drew the line at actually putting his picture on it. She had the feeling it would still be smirking at her as she pounded it.

Not only did she enjoy pretending it was Jane, he was often the reason she was there in the first place.

That particular night was no different.

A low key farewell party was being held for some high ranking personnel nobody knew nor interacted with. But she was, to put it mildly, coerced by LaRoche to attend. In semi-formal wear as well! Naturally, Lisbon decided on a drab grey wrap dress - she didn't take too well to being told what to do, particularly if that meant wearing a dress, so the most hideous thing in her wardrobe it was.

The whole evening had, of course, been a total farce. Under strict instructions to mingle, Lisbon managed to catch snippets of different conversations, none of which particularly engaged her interest until she overheard Jane, whom she'd been avoiding, talking to Amber, one of the Medical Examiners.

"So, have you and Agent Lisbon managed to patch things up?" she asked, her voice low but eager.

"I think it's safe enough to be in the same room as her and her gun now," he replied with a smile which didn't quite reach his eyes.

Lisbon turned her back, certain that his eyes were now trained on her.

Amber had always been a particular fan of Jane and Lisbon getting together and she made no effort to hide her sentiments.

"I'm glad to hear it. I know you tried to hide it but the wedge that …that incident drove between you was plain to see, Patrick. It pained me to see you two like that. You know I've always been a fan of you both," she added a wink for good measure.

With his mask firmly back in place, Jane insisted there was nothing going on between them.

Lisbon tilted her head towards the conversation, curious.

"I'm still not sure if she's capable of feeling anything for me anymore."

At that she turned fully to see his expression and immediately her eyes found his.

Amber seemed to miss the momentary exchange between them, insisting that Lisbon surely was not so cold towards him but the agent in question never heard Jane's reply. She silently slipped out of the room, a little hurt and embarrassed but mostly consumed with anger.

"I'm still not sure if she's capable of feeling anything for me anymore."

He was pinning this all on her.

Since Jane's release from prison, which Lisbon had actively been involved in, there had undeniably been a chill in the air. On the surface the team was as successful as ever, there was even the usual teasing and banter from time to time.

But things just weren't the same.

After all he had done, putting everything their team had in jeopardy, she was the bad guy.

Without even realising how she'd ended up there, she found herself before the punch bag, kicked off her mid height heels - did she look like the kind of women who owned stilettos? - and began beating the equipment; vigorous punches with her right hand, more reserved ones with her left.

She could feel the frustration pulsing through her as her heart rate quickened. Old memories came to mind, memories of a Jane who promised to always be there for her, to save her. But where was he when she when she awoke from surgery? Who was the one who had to save his ass from the legal system yet again? Who was the one who had to push aside her moral code and vouch for a man she knew had killed in cold blood, on her book of faith? Who was there the day he was freed from jail? Who ensured his return to the C.B.I?

But, of course, she is the bad guy. She's the one who doesn't feel anything for him; wasn't hurt when she heard what he'd done, sad at the thought of her friend in jail, angry, lonely…nope, cold as stone, just like everyone expects her to be.

For once, she was right and he was wrong. She had feelings alright, but they were so busy trying to maintain this illusion of the friendship they once had. She would have loved nothing more than to go back to the party and tell Amber exactly what her feelings were. He was wrong about her not feeling anything and she couldn't even gloat about just how wrong he was!

Sweat began to gather on her brow, her left arm tiring quickly from the exertion, when she felt, rather than heard his presence.

Momentarily she stopped and took a deep calming breath before resuming a gentle rhythm.

"What do you want, Jane?"

"I see your shoulder is still holding you back a little,"

She found herself pushing through the pain and giving a particularly sharp jab at his words. She chose to remain silent, partially because he deserved the silent treatment, but ultimately to avoid whimpering.

"You don't have to prove anything to me, Teresa," there was a short paused before he added, "I can see straight through you and I know you're hurting."

Biting her lip, she pushed herself even harder. She remembered just how good it felt to punch him in the face as her fists continued to connect with the bag. Arrogant. Know. It. All. Son. Of. A. Bitch.

Jane could practically feel the anger radiating from her and every part of his uninjured body was telling him to leave her be. But Jane never was one to listen to reason.

Tentatively he reached out towards her, resting his hand on her shoulder and almost instantly she spun round, hand balled in a first.

Jane honestly couldn't tell you how he did it, physicality not being a strong point, but somewhere deep inside his instincts kicked in and he caught her fist in his hand, inches before it was able to connect with his face.

Once again, their eyes locked, and for a moment her fury seemed to have numbed the pain. It may have been her weaker arm, but he'd still surprised himself. As Jane's eyes surveyed their joined hands her eyes followed his and that's when she felt it. Her shoulder cried out in protest against her actions as she scrunched her eyes tight shut, locking in any stray tear which may dare to fall.

Snatching her hand from his she turned from him, rubbing her shoulder and heading for the exit, humiliation overriding her anger.

"Lisbon, wait," he jogged a little to catch up and once again reached out to touch her. It was like instinct, a magnetic pull.

"Jane, touch me again and I'll use my good arm. You were right, ok? It still hurts. Now leave me alone."

"I wasn't just talking about your shoulder," he whispered, his breath tickling the back of her neck, exposed by her bun.

She turned to face him. "So, what? Now I am capable of feeling something towards you? I don't appreciate you talking about us to other people, nor should you spill your guts to someone who is practically a stranger. Obviously you wanted me to hear it. You have something to say to me? Say it to my face!"

Her voice echoed around the gym as her fiery gaze pierced through the dim lighting.

"'Us'?" Jane seemed perplexed, "What do you mean 'us', Lisbon? Ever since my release you've been pretending like everything is as it was. We're still playing happy families for everyone but I know how distant you are with me, it's like you feel nothing at all." Lisbon noted he'd raised his voice, a rare thing which only succeeded in causing her blood to boil in her veins.

"There you go again, laying all the blame at my…"

"Don't even start me on that! People know full well what I did, Lisbon. I'm the bad guy! But Saint Teresa's halo is looking a little rusty. Pretending it's all ok…it's a lie, Lisbon!"

"Did you say all that stuff to Amber just to get a rise out of me?" Enraged she took a step towards him, "I'm not asking for anyone to put me on a pedestal, Jane. This little pretence, that you participate in just as much as me, might I add, isn't fooling anyone and who do you honestly think they blame? Most of them feel sorry for you and damn near all of them are always going to like the oh –so-charming Patrick Jane over me!"

He made to protest but she poked him, daring him to even attempt to interrupt.

"I'm done with it. The whole building is walking on eggshells around us and it has to stop. You're off the team."

"Oh, I'm off the team? This is what I'm talking about! You won't even try to fix this."

"Why should I when it's your fault?" she was shouting now, not caring that her voice could easily carry up towards the party.

"Lisbon, what more can I do? I apologized for not being there for you. You know I regret that, but nothing will make me sorry for knowing that bastard's body is rotting thanks to me."

"I don't want your apologies or excuses, Jane! I just want you gone."

"Why did you even fight for me in the first place?" He was still angry but he almost sounded exhausted, "You did everything in your power to get me out of that place and back on the team and now you just want me to leave? Why even bother in the first place?" She glared at him and he seemed to read something in her gaze, "Or are you still adamant that I just 'close cases'?"

This time it was her hand which collided with his cheek in one fluid motion.

She'd hit him hard but it was like he barely even felt it. He grabbed her by the wrists and pushed her none too gently against the wall.

"Stop fighting me, Teresa," he almost growled at her, but she remained defiant, eyes locked in competition, "Tell me why you did it, why you did everything to help me, and now everyone is holding their breath, just waiting for us to blow up?"

For a few seconds they just stared at each other, her wrists still caught in his vice like grip. She wasn't sure if the adrenaline was making him stronger or if she'd underestimated his strength. She didn't dare think about the possibility that she was just enjoying this too much to move.

Lisbon felt her heartbeat loudly in her ears, a palpable tension heavy between them in the depths of silence.

In the end it was her eyes that gave her away. 'Honest eyes', she'd been told.

Their treacherous gaze momentarily flickered to his lips before jumping back to hold their original position. If he'd blinked, he'd have missed it.

Her primal instincts were screaming at him to understand, begging his ever vigilant mind to put two and two together while the sane side of her hoped he'd let her go.

He knew but he waited.

Watched her inner turmoil as her mouth instinctually parted ever so slightly and he felt a slight tremor run through her. He eased his grip on her and began to gently rub his thumb over the fleshy part of her palm. His eyes never left hers as he moved one hand to allow his fingertips to ghost gently over where he knew her skin was scarred by O'Laughlin's bullet. As he laid his palm flat against the healing wound, he searched her eyes. They were becoming dazed and lazy. Gently, still watchful, he laced the fingers of his other hand with hers and something within her snapped.

Her mouth was pressed against his, hungrily tasting that which she had so long been denied. One arm snaked its way around his body as the other hand sought out his hair, fingers twisting into the mess of golden curls. Shocked by the suddenness of her actions he found himself having to take a few steps back as her tongue trailed along his bottom lip, demanding access. Everything about her was intoxicating and, for once, he readily complied, bringing his hands up to cup her face as he too was taken hold by this invisible force between them. He kissed her fiercely but allowed her to take the lead, letting her pour any frustration, hurt, anger or whatever it was she felt, straight into him. She was tugging wildly at his hair as though she'd been itching to do so for a long time. Jane elicited a hum of pleasure from her when his body closed the small space left between them, pushing her back against the wall, and she encouraged a low moan from his throat as she nipped him playfully.

Reluctantly but inevitably they parted, Jane gently tugging on her lip as they did so. There was so much in the air between them, so many feelings and words left unspoken. Her eyes remained closed but his were wide and attentive, judging her body language, her breathing, how she felt as he trailed his fingers ever so gently down her arms which had somehow disentangled themselves from his being. Again, he coaxed her fingers into intertwining with his.

He brought his mouth to her forehead and gently kissed her there and then began to pepper kisses towards her ear.

"What does 'he closes cases' really mean?" he asked, her skin tingling as his words brushed against her.

She opened her mouth but only a small sigh managed to escape. He looked at her out of the corners of his eyes before firmly placing an open mouthed kiss at the sensitive spot just below her ear. He traced long, languid kisses towards her chin before retracing his path, gently blowingon the damp trail he'd left along her jaw line. Her breath hitched in her throat and he brought his face back level with hers, nuzzling her nose with his.

"It's okay," he murmured as his lips found the corner of her mouth. Then his lips were gone and her eyes flew open. He stared deep into her, searching for confirmation he was sure he'd find. "You don't have to say it," he said, satisfied with what he found. Again his lips were on hers as they slowly but desperately reveled in the feel of each other. She was softer than he expected and his kisses were gentler, still giving her the chance to back off.

As things became increasingly heated it was Lisbon who put distance between the two, allowing the two of them to cool down before things boiled over.

Both lamented the loss of contact and Lisbon self-consciously wrapped her arms around herself to cover up. Jane caught the action and delicately reached out to loosen her hold. She allowed him and her arms fell by her side. She was barely exposed in her V-neck dress but she felt naked beneath his gaze.

Head bowed, he began to speak, "I was always honest with you, Lisbon. I told you what I would do and I did it. I didn't lie. But I promised I'd be there for you and that's not easy to do from behind bars," he smirked and chanced a glance in her direction. She was still a little defensive, but she let him speak. "For that I am…so sorry. I'll do anything for you to forgive me, even if you want me to leave the team, Sacramento, the country!"

She laughed, a sound he'd long since forgotten and waited for her to have her say.

"Even I didn't realize how much it'd hurt me when you…," her voice faded to silence. "I guess I got used to having you around tormenting me," she smirked, trying to diffuse the heaviness of the moment. "I just need some time, Jane. We'll get through the…'emotional turmoil', I think the shrink called it," she chuckled.

"They made you see a shrink because of me? Again? No wonder you're angry,"

She smiled at him, the first genuine smile since…before.

"You think things are ever going to be the normal between us again?" he asked, hopeful.

"I think you've changed things forever, Jane."

He looked down dejectedly but felt her hand rise to his face. Her thumb rubbed over the apple of his cheek, a little rosier than usual from where her hand had connected with it, as she whispered, "We'll just have to find our new 'normal'."

He rested his chin on top of her head as they hugged. The charge that seared through their bodies as they held each other pleaded for them to just give in and ease some of the tension that broiled between them. It would have been so easy to surrender. One word from either of them and the other wouldn't have denied them. No matter that wounds were not completely healed, their bodies ached for each other. Lisbon never considered herself a weak women but she positively quivered in anticipation and Jane was sorely tempted to forget chivalry. There were still so many unresolved issues between the two but she just wanted to feel him, let him prove to her that he was the man she'd grown to…care about. He was just as eager to give her what she wanted.

Somehow (and he'll never quite know how) he managed to resist. Putting a small space between them he placed one last kiss on her mouth, a promise of 'one day'. When they parted her thanks read in her eyes and she made to leave the room, arm outstretched until she had to let go.

Instantly regretting the sudden appearance of his morals he turned and threw a punch at the punch bag. Anything to relieve the tension…he could still smell her…taste her on his lips…

He hadn't noticed that she'd been falling for him...but then again, neither, it seems, had she.

All of that aside, they were friends - how could he have hurt her so?

Funnily enough, he pictured his face on the punch bag when he hit it too.

A/N: Seriously, who doesn't want them to fight and then make up? ;) Hope you liked it - please feel free to leave me a comment, even if it's only a few words :)