I am currently re-watching the series from the start while simultaneously suffering a big dose of writer's block in regard to my original stories. I thought I'd channel some creative energy into a new fanfic. It's definitely AU from the series and will be one ficlet per episode. We'll see how long this works. Join me on this wild and crazy ride!

Unbetaed, all mistakes my own. I am very rusty. I am also having a fit with formatting.

We Will Learn from History

Pilot, 1x01

Will learn from history

Better than this

Fate is always pending

("Better Than This"; Ane Brun)

"You want to tell me what that was about?" Lisbon broke the companionable silence as she and Jane made their way down the hallway to their rooms, having left the rest of the team in the elevator.

"Hmm?" Jane clutched his discarded suit coat in his hand, not bothering to keep it from dragging on the floor and wrinkling further.

"That scene you pulled tonight at the restaurant. With Rigsby and Van Pelt." She paused, waiting for him to take her lead and explain himself, but he only grunted and patted at the small pockets on his unbuttoned vest. He was distracted and she was annoyed. "Jane, why did you pull that scene at the restaurant? Poor Van Pelt has only been with the team a few days and you go and scare her off. Another stunt like that and she'll head straight to HR."

"Meh, she's green but she's hungry. She wants to be here. She wants to prove that she can handle herself in this profession. I'm not sure you've noticed, but the old guard can be kinda sexist." He winked at her as she snorted.

"No, not at all, I've never, in all my years as a woman and a cop, noticed that some men on the force could be difficult to work with." She rolled her eyes and he only smiled more, enjoying her wit.

"Well, Agent Van Pelt looks up to you, it's why she wanted to work with you. You're a strong woman in a male-dominated field." He pulled up short outside her hotel room door. "I've seen you take down men triple your size. It's—if I'm being honest—quite, well, hot."

Lisbon looked up sharply, startled for only a second before her eyes narrowed. He continued to stare, continued to grin as she blushed. He knew her blush wasn't from embarrassment. He could tell from the way the small, pink tip of her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip.

"Jane, why did you pull that stunt with team, at dinner?" Lisbon didn't move closer, but he saw in the way her body softly swayed that she was tempted to, that she wanted to close the gap between them. But in the hallway of the hotel, well, that wasn't how it was done. Lucky for both of them, he'd stacked the deck in his favor. He tapped his fingers along his vest pocket again.

"You've been upset at me for a few weeks, since I've been on mandated leave." He took a step closer, pleased when she didn't move away from him.

"So what else is new." It wasn't a question. "Your suspensions—plural—tend to make me look bad as your supervisor."

"Nah, they make me look bad. Everyone knows Agent Teresa Lisbon is an exemplary officer of the law." He moved closer, hoping to disrupt the dour shift in her mood.

"Damn straight," she snapped, albeit half-heartedly.

"You've been upset, and I'd like to make it up to you. Now, don't you want to know what my messing with Rigsby and Van Pelt has to do with our relationship?"

She inhaled sharply at the word 'relationship' and tried to take a step back but he was quicker and held her steady.

"We don't have a relationship."

"Easy, tiger." He didn't drop his hand away from her elbow. "We both know that's not exactly true. Relationships come in all shapes and sizes."

"Fine, tell me." She tilted her chin up, masking the vulnerability she felt at his words. "Why did you mess with them? And what does it have to do with-" She stopped short, and he let her.

"OK, well, the lovely Grace Van Pelt was a little too preachy for my mortal soul's taste. And then Wayne's affection for her got in the way. Ergo, the 'gentle lover' business. It was all harmless fun, I assure you. Let's call it a team-building exercise."

"HR would have a field day with that." Lisbon groaned. "And the second point? What does that have to do with you and me?"

"Oh, well, that." Jane rocked up on his toes. "What do I always say is the key to a good magic trick? A beautiful assistant to serve as misdirection. In this case, Van Pelt and Rigsby were the misdirection."

"The misdirection?" She was dubious. "If that was misdirection, then what was the magic trick?"

He looked at her, his eyes never leaving hers as he leaned down and ghosted his lips along the slope of her cheek. He felt her move closer to him, her fingers clutching at his dress shirt. Without moving away from her, he pulled the keycard out of his front vest pocket and she stopped short.

"That's my keycard."

"Yes it is. Which is helpful, since this is your hotel room." He unlocked door, pulled her inside and slipped the do not disturb sign on the handle before closing it. But before he could do anything else, she had his back against the door and was working on removing his vest and dress shirt. He reached down to help her with her top. Her mouth was hot against his and he swallowed a groan as she nipped his lip.

"Tell me lifting my keycard and getting me into bed isn't the magic trick." Lisbon ran her tongue down his throat before reaching for his belt buckle. "Although, at this point, it doesn't really matter."

"No, the lifting of the keycard was later. Think, Lisbon, think. You're the detective. Review your clues." He teased before he hoisted her up and playfully tossed her on the bed. Then, resting above her, he pressed his open mouth to the sweet, soft spot between her breasts. Her laughter bubbled up in her chest, and he smiled. She'd figured it out.

"You threw them off your scent." She took his head in her hands, bringing him up to meet her eyes. She was flushed with laughter and the promise of sex, and she was beautiful. He pushed down a sudden, sharp pang of guilt. "What better way to make sure no one noticed you getting off the elevator on the wrong floor—my floor—than to wind them up tight with some elaborate hypothetical overture. Oh, you're a piece of work, Patrick Jane."

He climbed over her, his nose brushing against hers.

"I meant what I said earlier, at the morgue. I wanted to make it up to you. Today, as well as the mandated leave."

"Oh." She blinked and for a moment, the air between them grew heavy—both knowing this couldn't last much longer, and wondering how they'd let it get this far. He could remember the first time, months ago. He would remember it until his dying day, but he'd never tell her that. Instead, he would leave her room for his his in the early morning hours, where he'd stay awake watching whatever was on the TV. And tomorrow they'd meet up over breakfast and act as if this never happened—as if it wouldn't happen again.

"Oh, well then," she said, this time there was a challenge in her tone and the cloud around them evaporated. "Get on with it. Make it up to me."

He laughed as he slipped his fingers along the waistband of her pants and pulled them from her body.

FIN

AN 2:

When I first watched The Mentalist, I was convinced Jane and Lisbon were sleeping together. It had something to do with the ways they'd watch each other when the other wasn't looking. Of course I realized my assumption was wrong by episode 1x09 but I thought I'd play around with that idea here, and now that the show is all wrapped up and happily every after.