Author's Note: CONTINUATION – Vega wonders what's going on. This is a continuation of my two other Wega stories – Dancing in the Dark and I Like Dreaming. Depending on what happens in 7.10, this may be the last one I can write.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Mentalist. This story is for entertainment purposes only. I make no profit and no infringement of copyrights is intended.

I'm Not in Love

"I'm not in love, so don't forget it, it's just a silly phase I'm going through" - - 10cc

Sunday evening

Vega sprinted up the open stairway in the apartment building's entryway. When she arrived at the top, she turned to the left and knocked twice on the door of apartment C.

"Shelly! Shelly!" came a high-pitched voice from inside the apartment, accompanied by the loud thud of feet drumming across the floor towards the door. The door began to vibrate back and forth within its frame and Vega realized the little girl she would be baby-sitting that evening was systematically pushing on it. After a moment, she heard the sound of multiple locks being opened.

"Michelle, come on in," said a tall, dark-haired man as he moved out of the way and skillfully steered the similarly dark-haired child away from the open doorway. "Get in here quick before the muffin takes it into her head to dash outside."

Michelle laughed and moved quickly to get inside. "Come here," she said to the little girl. "I haven't seen you in a week and I think you've grown a whole foot!"

The toddler stopped mid-run and stared down at her feet, lifting her skirt to get a better view. She looked up and began to vigorously shake her head. "I not grow foot! I still gots just two, Aunt Shelly."

Michelle nearly doubled over laughing as she carefully hung her shoulder bag on the coat rack mounted high on the wall to one side of the door. There wasn't much in it, but it was a good idea to keep things out of the reach of small fingers. When she turned back around, she quickly scooped up the little girl and slung her fireman style over one shoulder. "So how's my favorite Sarah?" she asked.

"I'm not your Sarah," the girl exclaimed between giggles. "I belong to Mommy and Daddy."

"Well I know that." She pulled the child back around to her front, making a great show of hugging her. "But tonight I get to borrow you, is that ok?"

Sarah shook her head up and down. "Uh-huh! Mommy told Daddy they're going to have a ro-mance tonight, and when they get back they're going to make me a little brother!"

Michelle had no idea how to respond to that, and nearly bit her tongue trying not to laugh.

The girl's mother came into the room blushing furiously. "Little pitchers!" she commented in a stage whisper.

"I gonna stay awake so I can watch!"

"You behave yourself for Aunt Michelle, ok?" the woman admonished Sarah, who nodded enthusiastically. "And you better be sound asleep when Mommy and Daddy get home or you will not be getting any little brothers, understand!"

Sarah pouted, but reluctantly nodded her head. The couple said their final goodbyes and headed out while Michelle kept a tight hold on their daughter.

Michelle and Sarah spent the next hour playing with Sarah's toys. Then it was time for bath and bed. After she got the toddler tucked in to her crib, Michelle grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, snagged a paperback out of her bag and took her cellphone out of her back pocket. Then she settled on the couch and began to read.

Ten minutes later she realized she still hadn't finished reading the first paragraph. She'd been daydreaming about a certain tall, blond FBI agent. She put the book down on the table and decided to give in to it. She'd been busy all day and hadn't taken a moment to think about the events of the weekend.

She still wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to get too involved at this point in her life. She also wasn't entirely sure she had much choice in the matter. It seemed that ever since their dance on Friday night, whenever she and Wylie were together, everything seemed incredibly intense, but also incredibly easy. And when they weren't together, she wished they were.

She liked being with him. As in, she really, really liked being with him. They'd talked about everything from books and movies and other popular culture, to their experiences at Quantico, their career ambitions and even religion and politics. Their tastes in music were wildly different and they wound up flipping a coin to decide who got to pick the type of music club they went to last night. They certainly hadn't agreed on everything, but they'd argued about nothing.

She was already feeling things that made her think long-term. She wasn't sure how she knew that, because she'd never felt anything remotely like it before. Last night when she saw him coming towards her from the car, she got the uncanny feeling that she would spend the rest of her life with him.

Earlier that evening, while she was playing with Sarah, she wondered what their children might look like. Would they take after her Hispanic heritage or would they be pale and blond like him? Maybe a little of both. A little girl with white blond curls and a boy who would grow up to look just like Michelle's father.

This could get embarrassing, she realized. She felt like a teenaged girl with her first crush. She hoped no one caught her writing "Mrs. Michelle Wylie" in her notebook at work. And where did that come from, anyway? She was an independent woman and she had every intention of keeping her name when they got married.

Married! Where did that come from? And the kids and the house she'd been imagining while she made breakfast this morning. She'd grown up with the idea that she would focus on a military career first, following in her dad's footsteps. Although she loved kids, she always assumed that any children she got the chance to be with would be her friend's kids, like Sarah. Despite advancements for women in the military, any woman who wanted to become a senior officer better make sure she never wore the Army's version of a maternity uniform. Then things had happened and she'd left West Point and went to Quantico. The same basic rules applied, though, minus the uniform.

She got up from the sofa where she'd been trying to relax and began pacing, trying to work off the nervous energy. This was completely crazy. She had no idea if Wylie felt remotely the same way. He was just as dedicated to his career as she was. She wasn't even sure if their outing yesterday even constituted a "date".

Who was she kidding? If you ended the day with the guy's tongue down your throat, it was a date.

Michelle realized that part of her nervous anxiety was due to anticipation of seeing Jason at work tomorrow. Would he play things cool and pretend the weekend never happened? She didn't really think he would do something like that callously; but possibly in order to keep the whole thing under wraps. Still, if she spent half her days this week wondering if there was ever going to be a second date – or worse, if he'd say or do something publicly – she'd be completely useless to the team. And she definitely could not afford to be less than one-hundred-fifty percent on her game this week, with Cho taking over soon.

Michelle Vega was not one to sit back and wait for things to happen. The first thing she needed to do was to admit to herself that, no matter what rules she made for herself in the past, she wanted to see where this thing could go – provided of course that Jason Wylie was similarly inclined.

"Okay," she said to no one at all. "I admit it. I want to see where this might go."

She sat back down on the sofa and stared at her cellphone, sitting on the small wooden table next to a silk potted plant and her water bottle. The next thing she needed to do was find out where Wylie stood on the subject – assuming he had a strong opinion either way.

Her father always told her that the best way to get an answer was to ask a question. Asking this question could either launch her on a path she'd meant to put off for at least a few years yet; or it could bring this little fantasy to a quick end. Not knowing would cause her to wonder and worry; not a good state of mind for an FBI agent. She picked up the phone and dialed.

After four rings she was ready to hang up when the call was answered.

"Vega?" came a slightly breathless voice.

"Hi, Wylie," she responded. "I hope this isn't a bad time."

"No, no," he said, "It's fine. I was just…um… washing the dishes. Had to run in the living room to get my phone."

Somehow, Michelle got the idea he wasn't washing dishes and she wondered what it was he was doing that he didn't want to tell her. Not really any of her business of course.

"I um," she began, not sure just how to word the questions on her mind. Best to just spit it out. "Look, we've had a really good time this weekend. At least I hope you've had as much fun as I have."

"I had a great time, Michelle," came the firm answer. "I really enjoyed spending time with you yesterday."

"Great," she answered. Her FBI-tuned hearing detected a slight squeak in his voice, but she decided to ignore it. "The thing is, I'm not sure what's going on here, and I'm not saying we have to put any big, official name on it, but if we're going to be dating, I'd kind of like to know now, because when we're in the office tomorrow we need to act professionally, especially with Cho taking over the team, I'm not really sure what he'll think about two of his agents dating so we really need to keep it quiet for now, if that's what we're doing."

Vega blushed a little, realizing her own voice rose just a bit and she was talking really fast by the time she got to the end of that record-long sentence. She waited for some response from the other end of the line.

And waited…and waited.

"Wylie?" she finally queried, afraid that he might have simply hung up on her.

"Uh…yeah."

There was another moment of silence, then Wylie slowly began to speak.

"I think… I think we're dating… if you want to. Because I definitely want to. But yeah, we should probably keep it quiet for now."

"Oh…okay then," Vega said, "we're dating. I'll see you in the office tomorrow morning!" For a moment, she thought she felt her heart flutter just a little, and she knew she was grinning like a fool.

"I'll see you tomorrow then. Goodnight, Michelle."

"Goodnight, Jason."

Wylie watched the phone app close as the call was disconnected, then he slowly set his phone back down on the table where he usually plugged it in to charge. He looked down at his feet. A damp towel was puddled around his ankles. He'd been standing stark naked, talking to Michelle Vega on the phone. He hoped the keeping things quiet rule meant she wouldn't mention the phone call at work tomorrow, because he was bound to turn crimson if that happened.

But for now, he didn't care about that. He didn't care about anything else. He was dating the most wonderful woman in the FBI!

Author's Note: I've been writing as much Wega fic as I can before tonight's episode because it's been keeping my mind off of what might happen. I don't usually write stuff that diverges too much from canon, so I felt the need to do as much as I can while this is still plausible. I hope you enjoy it.

02/04/2015