He was watching her.

When Mae first realized it, she stiffened a little, not quite believing it. Jack Garret was such an accessible man; so welcoming and warm. It was never hard to go to him, to know that he truly cared about his team and would do anything for them.

But this stare wasn't like his usual checking up glances; his worried flicks to and away to make sure that she was getting on with the police force in whatever local town they were currently in; no matter where they went, there was always that one sexist officer who made a show of bothering her simply because she was female; she was female and she didn't belong there.

And neither was this stare probing, like he thought she had a problem and was wondering when she'd come to him with it. He wasn't examining her with the usual sharpness; he was intent, but in an entirely different way.

Mae Jarvis turned around and met his gaze. What she saw in his eyes shocked her, and she quickly turned around to face the table again, feeling a fission of warmth in her stomach.

No, this wasn't happening. She was done being that girl who fell in love with her teacher in high school, vowing that they'd be together forever before remembering that said teacher was married and way too old for her; and plummeting back to earth.

She was done being the girl in college who'd fallen for a blessedly single teacher's aid, who'd walked her through her first chemistry class and subsequently been fallen madly in love with.

Mae had filled whole notebooks with recollections of times shared with precious, older men in her life. She knew she had a problem, but it was a minor one. She never let herself get attached to the point that she lost herself; once she recognized that she was getting in too deep she pulled back, shoving on the brakes and putting as much distance as possible between herself and the object of her affections.

None of those options were available with Jack Garret. He was always there, always watching. If she pulled back from him, he'd notice. He'd notice and he'd ask why. When she didn't tell him, he'd get that crease in his forehead. After a few days of that, he'd get stressed; he'd start making tea more often and making extra time to talk to Mae, thinking that she had a problem and wondering why she wasn't going to him. And that was worse, it worsened everything to see him acting so anxious over her. She knew. She'd tried the same tactics before, and each time, he got more worried.

And she fell even deeper in love with him every time; every case that he spent at her side, worrying if she was okay. She was young, and she was facing all of these horrors. Was she really ready for this? Was he pushing her too hard? Was he making a mistake to let her keep on going on these cases? What if she got infected with some horrible disease?

So Mae had no option. She just had to let him be there, always there, always close. She had to let him smile at her; she couldn't pull away because then he'd see it. And then he'd just notice her all the more.

She turned around and he was still looking at her. So she smiled. And he smiled back.

Mae was...Mae was sweet. There was no other way to describe it. Whenever Jack saw her, it was like he managed to suck in a little of the essence of her, a little sugar to keep him going. He loved the smile on her face; he couldn't stand it whenever she was worried.

He loved the way she got so studious whenever she was working through something; how she bit her lip.

He loved her intelligence; her quick grasp of human anatomy and how easily and thoroughly she could pinpoint the reason behind a person's death; how much easier she made his job just by the grace of being there, of being present.

He couldn't bear the times, those few, strange times, that she pulled back from him. He didn't understand why; she never said. He'd always worked so hard to figure her out during those times, to try and see why she reacted easily and quickly sometimes when he pulled her into an impromptu hug after a success; hugging him back, and how sometimes she just stiffened, as if scared to death.

He couldn't figure it out. Did she sense that he was...attracted to her?

Because he was. Desperately, but not just sexually, though that was a large component of it.

No, Jack Garrett was attracted to her light; the darkness he'd seen craved someone to light a candle inside of it and Mae Jarvis was that person.

He stepped closer, holding himself back a little so that if she backed away again, he wouldn't be hurt.

But she didn't.

Smiling, she gestured him closer.

"I think we're getting nearer to pinpointing why our UnSub does what she does," she said eagerly. "Come here, I want to show you something on our newest victim. See this burn mark on his wrist?"

As she told him her findings, and they explored what their meanings could be, Jack felt a tightness ease in his chest. He felt like he was breathing oxygen again after hours of being underwater.

She was giving him that, he realized. She was waking him up, invigorating him.

He sucked it in, sucked in the light, the oxygen...He sucked in her. And he knew that this brief encounter with her could keep him going through the rest of this cursed case.

There was a temptation, an urging to move closer, to caress her, touch her, hold her hand, or brush her hair from her face.

Too late; she was pulling it back into a ponytail in preparations for leaving and going off to search for more signs left by the UnSub.

"Coming, Jack?" Matt asked, as he strapped on a helmet and handed Mae the other.

Was he coming?

No. He was good.

"You two take care of it," he instructed, and they were off with a quick nod, leaving him behind.

That was okay. He knew that they'd return, safe and sound. Mae would smile as if to reassure him that she was okay; she was fine, she still hadn't lost any part of herself to this dark job.

And he'd welcome that assurance.

At the site, as Matt puzzled out where they were going next, he turned back to see Mae, hunched over a notebook.

"What are you writing?" He questioned, walking nearer, and she quickly shoved it back into her bag.

"It's a journal," she admitted, and he could tell that her first choice was 'something stupid' but she'd decided to be honest and get it over with. Matt liked that about her.

"A journal of what?" He wondered.

"Encounters," she breathed, and the light in her eyes from having finished writing made him quiet.