Summary: Lisbon bumps her head; Jane is there to help...

Author's Note: Hello, fellow fans of The Mentalist! :) I recently (no, literally like two days ago) got hooked onto this show and proceeded to watch all ten episodes online. I love it! Wooh Simon Baker...haha :) Anyway, this idea popped into my head and I couldn't get it out. I hope I did the show and the characters justice. This is my first attempt at The Mentalist fan fiction, so I hope you all enjoy! By the way...I know the title is kind of awful...but I couldn't think of anything else. :) Any suggestions would be considered and appreciated! Thanks in advance to those who read and, if you're so kind, leave feedback. Happy reading!

See Jane Nurse

The office was quiet. Nice, peaceful and quiet for 7 a.m. It was just how she liked it; it was one of the only reasons she came in early on a Sunday, when most people would be grumbling about not getting to sleep in late or at least trying to squeeze in as much sleep as possible before they had to get up.

Lisbon smiled to herself, letting her eyes scan over the desks and computers. No one was here yet. She floated into her office, landing gently at her desk before straightening out papers and getting them ready to file. Yes, she knew it was a slightly antisocial habit that she would have to face one day, but she loved it, being alone in the morning at the office. The nights were a different story.

Pushing the papers aside, she switched on her computer, letting the muffled noises that punctured the stillness fill her ears. It was a comforting sound, she thought, as she watched the screen switch to black, the loading bar filling with green sections slowly. Spinning around in her chair, she got up, file in hand, crossed the room and kneeled to reach one of the lower drawers of the filing cabinet, pulling one drawer above it out first to retrieve the latest case file.

"Morning, Lisbon."

The cool voice startled her; she jerked upwards, successfully banging her head on the edge of the open drawer. The file fell from her hands as she rushed to catch her throbbing head.

"Ahh." The sound rushed from her lips. Her head spun.

"Careful, careful…" the voice warned, the arms that steadied her movement suddenly behind her.

"Jane!" she mumbled, a frown forming over her features as he turned her around.

The look on his face as he eyed her injury was far from promising. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you were that easily startled. You know being a cop and all I would have thought you'd be more -"

"Wow, Jane, that's some apology." Her eyes narrowed slightly, as much as they could without causing her immense pain. The gash above her eye stung.

"I'm sorry," he tried again, his eyes glittering.

"Yeah, yeah." she scowled, moving past him to find a bandage. Her head spun again, she braced herself on the desk.

"Here, I'll get it. You. Sit." he said pointedly, motioning at her desk chair.

She willingly complied, sinking into the chair. Some peaceful morning this had turned out to be. "Third drawer on the right," she said with her eyes closed, her fingers dabbing at the wound. She could smell the blood. "What, did you sleep here or something? Why are you here so early?"

"I could ask you the same question. But I won't." He smiled, closing the drawer and sitting opposite the chair on her desk. "The security guards are here at six, I couldn't sleep. I figured why not go in early, annoy Lisbon before her morning coffee."

"Ha ha," she muttered, opening her eyes and taking the first aid kit from his hands.

They were silent for a time, but she could feel his eyes on her, studying her as she fumbled with the latch on the box. Watching as she ran the cotton ball over the wound, as she unwrapped the last band-aid and it stuck to her fingers, bending and crumpling as she tried to put it on herself.

"Here, let me -"

"I've got it," she said too sharply, the tension in her voice echoed between them. She pressed her lips together apologetically, her eyes meeting his briefly.

"Let someone take care of you for once," he smiled softly, pulling her chair closer to him and the desk. When their knees almost touched, he took the band-aid from her fingers and threw it away.

Her lips trembled, about to protest, when he pulled gauze and white tape from the bottom of the box. She expected a show of his cleverness, a ta-da moment of showing the components of a makeshift bandage. But he didn't. He silently pulled the cotton swab from her hand, dabbed at the spot above her eye for a moment, and then turned back toward the box and producing a tube of Neosporin.

Her eyes remained fixed on him as he squeezed the antibacterial ointment onto a finger and proceeded to push the hair that was in her face back with one hand and gently apply the gel to the wound with the other. His fingers were cool and gentle as they brushed above her eyebrow. His touch was enough of a distraction for the minor pain the pressure caused. She worked to keep her breathing steady, even. She prayed that he wouldn't pickup on this, but somewhere inside she knew he did.

On the surface he was focused. His light green eyes were set with concentration as he removed his fingers, now placing the sides of his hands on her forehead. His lips formed a tight circle as he blew on the cut softly.

"You're good at this." She managed, feeling her pulse spike. "Taking care of people, I mean…"

The chuckle that followed sent a small shiver down her spine, his breath on her forehead coming in short, strong puffs that tickled her skin. She bit her lower lip as his eyes met hers.

"I've had some practice," he replied, his eyes dimming for moment before returning back to hers, more clear than before. She'd never know what he saw there, but he smiled. "Maybe I should get some plants."

"Yeah, maybe." She smiled in return, hoping her voice sounded normal.

He soon returned to the task at hand, measuring out a strip of gauze, cutting it, and folding it into a neat square before cutting off four strips of tape. He skillfully pressed the gauze to her forehead with one hand and applied the tape with the other. Smiling, he smoothed the completed bandage out with his fingers lightly, working any air out of the dressing that had managed to remain.

"Done," he smirked, tapping at the center of her head lightly with his finger.

"Cute," she laughed, feeling more like herself.

"I know," he smiled that smile that made her feel like she was the only one on the face of the earth.

Smiling in return, she pushed away from their huddle. He straightened, hopping off the desk gracefully before brushing the remains of cotton balls and tape into the trash can. He returned the first aid kit to the third drawer as she admired his handy work in the reflective glass that lined her office.

"Nice work," she mused, impressed.

"Yeah, it's a little more dramatic than a band-aid, but it'll get you through the day," he chuckled, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Maybe you can take it off before we're out in the field. It may be a little gruesome, but if you're embarrassed..."

"No, I'm fine. I'll be fine..." She replied, turning to face him. "Thanks, Jane..."

"No can uh take it out of my paycheck." He winked, his lips pulling up slightly at the corners.

"Duly noted," she returned coolly, tipping her head lightly.

For a moment they only looked at one another, their eyes locking green to green. And for the first time, she looked at him just as intensely as he looked at her, examining him in her own way. For the first time she wasn't avoiding his penetrating gaze; this time she matched it. Her eyes scanned carefully over his grey suit, down to his black shoes, roaming over his disarrayed curls and back to his eyes. They exchanged a smile and something flickered briefly across his features: hope.