A/N: One-shot time! :D I was bored (why, I don't know, because I'm in my final exams) and this story just literally shouted my name! So, here it is! It's based on the Season 4 Finale 'The Crimson Hat', and this is (for as much as I know) my first Tag. So please, no flames :D.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.

"Hey guys," Lisbon chattered while she walked into the bullpen, flashing a few smiles at her team members, when she stopped with her gaze at his couch.

She wanted hit him in the face, to slap some sense in that pretty face of him.

But she couldn't. She was still angry, hell, she was furious, but she couldn't possibly hurt him physically.

She said nothing to him, though, just walked over to her office and shutting the door behind her.

She didn't sit down behind her desk, but all but jumped on her couch. She was tired to the bones, and not because of the job.

No, the always present tingling feelings in her stomach whenever she was close to him took all her energy, which she needed much these days.

It wasn't until he'd left the CBI that she realized that the concern for her pain in the ass consultant, the only one who was able to make her almost lose her job, that concern, was actually more like love.

She didn't want to admit it, not even to herself, but she had to now that her feelings were pretty obvious.

She was in love with Patrick Jane.

And she knew a hundred percent sure that her feelings weren't mutual. Because why would the man sleep with another woman if he loved her?

Exactly, didn't make any sense.

The six months he'd been away had been hell for her.

The first month, she actually quite managed. It was nothing different than the moments where she was suspended for one week or more – because of Jane, of course – so she was used to it. She liked having less paperwork than before, she could go home early, earlier than all the years before. She got more sleep because ADA Ardiles didn't chase her in her dreams, nor did Wainwright or any other superior.

But after about one month, reality struck to her: he was gone. And he wouldn't come back. And that was when the sleepless nights began. She would be in her office all day long, thinking about him. Everything reminded her of him. Her couch, his couch, the paper frog on her desk, eating case-closed donuts or pizzas with the team, getting bear claws from Maries from Van Pelt. Everything. She tried to do her job, but with every interrogation, she would wonder what Jane would do if he was there. She would imagine him, standing next to her at the crime scenes, accidently brushing against her arms.

She'd tried to call him, text him, track him down, or in any other way try to locate where he was. But with no luck.

After three months, she almost began seeing ghosts. When she arrived at her apartment within these three months, she saw him. He was sitting at the counter in her kitchen, looking at her. She'd ran over to him, trying to swing her arms around him, making him stay with her, but she found he was not really there. She'd collapsed on her couch.

On the five months line, she tried to pull herself back together. She'd spent the fourth month in her bed almost every day, after Wainwright had sent her on sick leave, hoping that that would ease her pain.

And it did, in some way. She'd cried over him leaving the fourth month, laughing at herself afterwards for being so completely stupid.

But she realized then that she really loved him. For she wouldn't cry over just somebody.

In the sixth month, she – on the outside, that is – completely recovered from his parting, and picked up fully her work again. She partly cut herself off of the team, though. She'd skipped the closing rituals, and locked herself away in her office. She still talked with them, but only case and work related.

When Pat mentioned everything Jane had been involved in during his absence, all the memories of the sand lonely nights hit her like a brick wall.

What cruel man had he become? He wasn't the man she knew, her Patrick Jane would never do drugs, would always come with the police whenever they asked to – he would be grumpy, though.

Crying wouldn't work. Besides, she already used up all her tears, she would never be able to cry again in her life. So fresh air it was. And how.

Hours after hours she would walk around the city. Only Van Pelt knew what she was doing.
She'd ended up in the church, of course.

But what she didn't know was that Jane awaited her there.

And that was when she slowly became the old Teresa Lisbon again.

But the hug, the words he said before he shot her, his hand around hers in the deserted village. It felt wonderful. The butterflies in her stomach had made somersaults then.

The fact that he denied everything afterwards burned them down, though.

To prevent her weak and damaged heart from more pain, she ignored Jane. She knew that wasn't the smartest move, but it felt the most logical.

He ignored her as well. The team hated this even more than when Jane had been gone, because they were now suffering from the hurt of two people, not just their team leader.

Jane walked into her office. She internally screamed at him to go away, but he'd shut out her thoughts.

"Hey Lisbon."

"Don't do that," she murmured.

"What?"

"That."

Jane sighed.

"Lisbon, what's wrong?" he asked.

She continued looking at her screen, and he sat down on the chair in front of her desk.

"Lisbon look, I don't know what's-"

"You slept with her."

Jane sighed again.
"Yes, I did."

"And you didn't tell me."
"What was I supposed to say then? Hey Lisbon, Red John has got an apprentice, and I've slept with her?"

She looked at him.

"No, of course not."

"What then?"

"You could've told me before she did."

He looked at his lap.

She looked at her screen again.

"Okay, I told myself not to push it, but I want to know. What did you mean before you shot me?"

"What do you think I meant?"

"Jane, don't play like that."
"I'm serious, Lisbon. What did you want me to mean with these words?"

"You know, forget it, I'm not going to bring it up again, okay?"

He nodded, but remained on the chair.

"Did you enjoy it?" Lisbon asked, after a long time, and Jane looked up at her again.

"What?"

"Did you enjoy... you know... doing it with her?"

"Well, it was... interesting."

"Interesting?"

"Yeah, well, you know... I... I kept thinking about somebody else."

"What do you mean?"

Jane looked at his lap again.

"I... didn't think about her."

"About whom did you think then?"

"You. I love you," Jane said. Lisbon closed her eyes.

"Jane, don't do that."

"But it's true, Lisbon. I was dumb not to realize it, but I'm seriously in love with you. And it wasn't until I was six months away from you that I came to realize that. I love you, Teresa. I'm just... not ready for it. Yet. But believe me, someday, I am."

He reached out and grabbed her hand, and they kept sitting like that for the best part of the day.

And Jane was finally happy. He'd admitted it: this time for real.

He was afraid to tell her, and really, the first time he'd said it was a true slip of the tongue. But this one wasn't.

He would show her, many times. Would make her dinner, would kiss her in the night until he almost suffocated. Would someday even buy her the most expensive and beautiful ring he could find. But for now, holding hands was enough.

A/N: What did you think? Let me know in a REVIEW, thank you!