Dr. Bull watched people. He watched and studied people.

He hated the guy as soon as he'd laid eyes on him. He just reeked of entitlement and disingenuity, and god, that fake laugh of his wasn't fooling anybody (at least not him, not Jason Bull). Half of his stories were just that, stories, clearly half witted lies rehearsed just enough to sound natural, just enough to seem charming. He was not at all charming, in fact, and Bull saw through his lies and his rouses and his deception like a dog chasing down a bone.

Kyle laughs, and begins to recount the sparks that flew as Marissa returned his wallet one crisp afternoon, and Bull just knows he's lying. He's lying. He's lying…

He touches Marissa's hand, smiles at her all lovey dovey, like some high school idiot fallen head over heels. But his eyes say he's pumped full of nothing but air, and his words say he's trying to sell something.

The only question is, who to?

To Marissa? To him? To the world, maybe?

By the time the bill has arrived, the newly formed couple has laughed enough for twenty, brushing shoulders, touching hands, so intimately close it seems almost illegal. Jason Bull knows all he needs to know.

Kyle is a liar. He wasn't who he said he was, wasn't who he pretended to be. Not really. Bull can't ignore that he's hiding something.

But Marissa is happy. So happy. He's never seen her glow quite so brightly, never seen her so carefree and content.

Content. He likes the look on her, the way her lips curl at the edges, and the way she bursts out with bubbling laughter, and her eyes crinkle ever so faintly. Enough not to mention when he notices Kyle make a faux pas, or an odd facial tick, or make a gesture that seems somewhat disingenuous.

Kyle is a liar. Seeing him and Marissa together makes Bull feel queasy, because of it.

But he considers that maybe, just maybe, his assessment of the man was wrong. Surely, it was worth considering, in light of just how happy he made her.

"So, how was it?" She's beaming, seated beside Bull in the car, "Do you like him?"

He scowls beside her. Determines that he won't say anything of what he's thinking (she's happy, and he doesn't want to ruin that for her, for possibly no point).

He always saw so much. Half founded, half relevant, the other ticks and details that ultimately amounted to too much training and too many lost friends.

He could be wrong. He's been wrong before.

"He's delightful"

The lady hums, in that half bemused, knowing way (everything seemed to come in that way, in halves).

"I can sense the sarcasm in droves, Bull" She replies, voice airy with soft laughter. Familiar and comfortable.

"No, I mean it. He's great, and you two are both disgustingly sappy with each other, as every couple should be"

There's silence. Not uncomfortable. Not unlike most nights late in the office, looking past windows outlined by bright streetlights, just the two of them, alone together with their solitude, both with nowhere else to go (and no one at home to go to). He had to admit, he was missing her… missing that, lately. She'd become a familiar presence for him, always right there, with a tired little smile and a glass of scotch and soft words to share in the usually, otherwise, oppressive ambience. His partner in crime. His best friend.

Now he sits in the office alone, truly alone, most nights. The silence is crushing, and he wonders how one person can miss another so deeply. He wonders, when she'd become such an unquestioning figure in his life. He wonders why he had not realized how important she was before, (how he depended on her, how deeply her absence was felt) until she was gone, and the only sounds were his own thoughts.

He'd turned to talk to her one night last week, to suggest an addition to a case, only to realize she wasn't there. He'd felt a pang in his chest, so palpable it made his fist clench.

It doesn't matter, though. He's overthinking.

She was happy. He was therefore happy for her.

That's what he wanted. That's what she deserved. (He wonders if that's something Kyle can give her… cuts off the line of thought, before it goes very far).

Marissa's gazing out the window, fingertips pressed to cool glass, humming faintly. Deep in thought. He steples his fingers in front of his midsection, and turns his head to speak to her, casual as he can muster,

"I care about you, you know that, right?" He asks softly, breaking the silence.

He ignores the way his own voice cracks, betraying his sincerity.

She looks startled, for a short moment. His gaze never leaves her, even as her brow furrows, tiny ministrations crossing her face as she deciphers what he's just presented to her.

"Of course I do"

He taps his knee. Expression considering. He gazes out the car window for a moment, contemplating,

"I don't know what I'd do without you"

She touches him faintly on his arm,

"And you won't have to figure it out"

He nods faintly.

I'm not going anywhere.

He resolves then, in the back of his mind, that she'll be fine. Marissa is smart. If Kyle were to become an issue, she'd be able to handle him. She doesn't need Bull to protect her, to save her.

He still takes it upon himself to sit Kyle down… just to have a talk, anyway. He separates him away from his beloved coworker with ease, under some pretense he can't even bother to remember now. Kyle gave him a confused look as they walked around to the corner of the terrace, and asked him what he needed.

Arrogant and self-serving, and goodness, Jason still hated him so much.

He really didn't deserve her, huh?

Jason smiled, grabbed him by the collar with both fists, and politely reminded him that playing nice with Marissa would be in his best interest.

He gulped, and quickly agreed.

3 months later, he's punching the daylights out of him. His knuckles are raw and bleeding, but Kyle's face is worse for wear, with a broken nose bleeding all over the floor.

He's angry at himself, and at Kyle, and at the universe for always seeming to screw him and those he cares about.

"I knew he was trouble" He's saying to Benny, only ten minutes later, as he wraps the ace bandage around his hands, hissing at the sting of peroxide.

"Of course. Your gut told you, right?"

"No. He was just no good for her"

He laughs, that same half knowing laugh Marissa had uttered all those months ago,

"Is anyone?"

"Well, since you had to be a wise ass, no. No one is"

Benny bursts out in laughter, wiping at his eyes, heaving. Jason's eyebrows knit together, as he glares dubiously at his friend.

"What's so funny?" He snaps, "Care to share with the class"

Benny seems to consider that for a moment, before shaking his head ruefully.

"Nah. You'll figure it out"

Benny laughs, leaned up against one of the desks in the main office. Marissa is catching Bull up on their most recent case in the next room, heads bent together, with those intense expressions on their faces that said everything that need be said. Dr. Bull's hand rests at her elbow, as if to steady her, as he gazes at the tablet in her grip from over her shoulder, and Marissa leans unconsciously closer to him, as she talks.

It's just the usual closeness between those two, which the team noticed but was, generally, smart enough not to mention.

He'd give them about a month.

"How much you bettin'?" He calls casually over his shoulder.

Chunk grins, "Fifty"

"Seventy-five, and you're on"

"Really? Pleasure doing business with you sir"

Bull finally steps out of his office then, staring curiously at his two friends, huddled together. Causing trouble, he was sure, if their expressions were any indication.

"What's going on in here?"

"Nothing" Chunk replies quickly, walking off.

"Scatter!" Benny shouts in turn, with a shit eating grin.