Well, well. I know I haven't written a thing for a while, but I'm finally on holiday and I feel so...free! So here is a little one-shot, wrote in, I don't know, 20 minutes while I was waiting for the end of the world (congratulations dear Mayans, that was the worst apocalypse ever! :p). I thus don't know what it is worth, but feel free to leave a review anyway. :)

What can I add? The Mentalist, that I dicovered a few weeks ago, is now my favourite TV show and I can't wait for THE kiss to happen (between Jane and Lisbon, of course! :D).

Love to you all,

Sarah xx

Could life possibly begin again?

Well, that was the question he couldn't give an answer to. Could life possibly begin again?

His first thought was "no". Of course it could not. How could it?

The first time he leaned a bit too close towards her to whisper something in her ear, he had not noticed the short breath she had taken, or the chill that had run through her. Why, his eyes were on their suspect, and he wasn't paying much attention to her. Why should he?

The second time he had actually noticed that she had looked a bit nervous, and that her cheeks had started to turn red. He'd found it funny, and had thought of her as a shy little girl.

He had just forgotten that Teresa Lisbon was far from being a shy little girl.

The third time, he'd touched her, gently patted her shoulder. She had had a very bad day, and he hadn't liked the haunted look he could see in her eyes. She'd raised her head at his touch, looked at him and smiled, one of those smiles of hers that were so rare, so precious – so beautiful.

And he had been astonished by how quickly he had managed to make her feel good again.

Then, touching each other had become a habit. A comforting touch, a friendly touch, a reminder that they were not alone. Once, she'd squeezed his hand hard in hers and, once, he'd hold her tight, kissing her hair as she had allowed herself to break down for the first time in front of him.

Well, then, there had been that day. A strange, weird day actually. He was probably sick, or drunk, or sleepy or something like that. She had smiled to him – this beautiful smile of hers, you know? – and he had leaned once more. She had let out a shaking breath, her eyes had met his, and that had been it.

His life had begun again.