*Cough, cough* So, I know that I really should not be doing this. I should not be writing this when I know that I have another piece that is still in its first chapter and hasn't been updated in, well, forever. But, I got a little stuck on that one (for anyone who cares, there are more chapters on the way, I was simply distracted for a while) and this popped up meanwhile.

Anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I in no way own The Mentalist.

It wasn't noticeable, not right out there for the world to see.

In fact, it wasn't even really an it, so there wasn't necessarily anything for the world to see.

And yet—there it was.

It was kind of funny, actually, because even they didn't notice.

She had gotten so used to having him around that something always felt off when they weren't together. Not that she would ever acknowledge the feeling. No, she preferred to write it off as sleep deprivation, or maybe a skipped meal. After all, it was simply impossible that she might miss him, not when she worked so hard to keep up the front of barely tolerating him. But, then again, that front wasn't exactly solid anymore. At some point, it had slipped, and now their friendship was considered a given, no matter how she tried to deny it.

It was rather ironic, too, that he hadn't picked up on it. With his renowned "physic" abilities, you'd have thought he'd have seen it coming. But he didn't, and even though he was a bit further ahead than her, he still had no clue as to what was occurring. Yes, he noticed that he liked talking to her, that he was drawn to her presence, that he was slightly possessive of her…but he convinced himself that it was all normal, all part of a regular friendship. Well, maybe the over-protective nature he'd begun to develop wasn't completely ordinary, but he figured it came from losing those he had cared about before. Really, who wouldn't be protective, if they had his past? And the fact that he didn't feel that way about his other team members…well, he just decided not to think about that.

Others around them felt it, too, though they could never really put a finger on what it was they felt. There was just something there, something in the way she included him in whatever she was going to do, and the way he never even asked what it was, just nodded and followed her out the door. Or maybe it was in the patience he had to calm her down the numerous times she was upset—a task no one else would go near, for fear of flying staplers. But, mostly, they could just tell—there was something different in the way they looked at each other. Something was changing.

It wasn't a large change. It didn't happen all at once; it was more of an ongoing process. It might have begun the first night he drove over to her house, unable to bear the solitude anymore, and stayed the night, on her couch. Or it could have been the first time she fell asleep at his house, after their weekly movie night, which set things in motion. Or maybe it all began when she needed a shoulder to cry on after a hard case, and although many were available, his just happened to be the one she sought out.

But, whatever started it, it was happening. Slowly and almost imperceptibly, things were changing.

So…like it? Hate it? Did I completely misspell something? Either way, please leave a review! (And, do I write more, or leave it at that?)

~Beka