Title:- His Touch

Summary:- Teresa Lisbon is in need of medical attention, and Patrick Jane is more than happy to help. After all, it was his fault. What this leads to will be something that neither of them will ever forget. 1/2

A/N:- This is my very first fanfic, so let me know what you think. I realize that there is OOC, so if anyone has any tips as to how I can improve please review and tell me. Oh, one more thing... ENJOY!

His Touch

It was empty in the office. Everyone had gone home for the night... all except for Patrick Jane. There were a couple of reasons for this. One of them was that tonight (like almost every other night since he had started working on Teresa's team) he didn't feel like facing the red face on his bedroom wall; the face that would always remind him what had happened. Thinking about that face, and sleeping in that room had seemed to be the only thing that had kept him sane all those years. Ironic, he thought to himself. The other reason was that he actually wanted to get some sleep that night. And the couch in the office seemed the only place where he could do that.

So, there he was. Lying back on the couch, his eyes closed, yet he wasn't asleep. Great, he thought again. The one time I actually need to sleep, and my brain decides to work overtime! As he tried to will his brain to shut down (if only for an hour or two), he heard the door to the office creak open, and someone step into the room. He could hear their steps echo to his ears. He had a very good idea of who it was. The weight and force in each step they took; how there was no hesitation in their steps, even though the office was pitch-black. That one observation showed that this person knew the room so well, that they could walk through it blindfolded... which they might as well have been, seeing as there was no light in there.

Yes. In his mind, it could only be one person. Teresa. There was no question on the matter. Of course he was only guessing; still, 99% of the time, his guesses were right. There was only on time when he was wrong; one time when his judgement had failed him... Still, as many people had said (including himself, countless times), there was no point in dwelling on the past. The present was the important thing. The NOW, not the THEN. And NOW, he was curious as to why she was here, in the middle of the night. That was the real question, and he was surprised to see that he couldn't answer it. There were many possibilities; but that was just what they were; possibilities. He didn't, he couldn't and wouldn't work with possibilities. He had to make those certainties.

So, that was what he did. He got up off of the couch, and walked to where he heard her moving around. He found her in her office. He knew where she was, where she always was. This wasn't the first time that she had come back to work after sending everyone home. Of course, he had never made his presence known; it wasn't that he preferred to leave her alone, more the fact that she wanted to be left alone, and he was happy to oblige. She knew he was there; she must have known. Still, tonight he felt in the mood to annoy Teresa. He didn't know what it was about Teresa that made her so deliciously wonderful to annoy; there was just something about her.

As he pushed the door open, he was met with a rather unusual sight. A smile crept onto his face at what was happening right in front of him. For the first time ever, he thanked the person who had decided to make Teresa's office so small, because it meant that her desk was very near to the door. Well, this could turn out to be an interesting night after all. Suddenly, he didn't feel so tired anymore.

In front of him, unaware that she was being watched, Teresa was bending over, obviously looking for something in one of the desk drawers. She was also sticking her ass up in the air, just inches from where he was standing. If she took one step back, she would back up into him. Well, that would be unexpected. He tried to keep his mouth closed, tried not to laugh at the thought. Tried. And failed. He was never any good at showing self-control. It wasn't even his laugh; for once in his life, his voice box had decided not to join in. It was just a shame that he had to snort as well. And that she had to turn around; then gasp, step back and fall backwards over the desk. There was a resounding thump, and a curse.

She emerged from behind the desk; her hair had fallen around her face. And she was wearing the angriest face that he had ever seen. Of course, she had meant for it to scare him; instead it had the opposite effect. It gave him the urge to smile even more, and he was never one to disobey his urges. However, that smile seemed to only infuriate her more.

"Well, Jane. Are you just gonna stand there, or are you going to help me up?" Managing to silence himself for the moment, he stepped forward and offered his hand for her to take. As he helped her to her feet, he couldn't help but start to smile again. She gave him another look, showing just how infuriated she was. "And just what are you smiling at?"

"Nothing. Just the fact that the first time we meet outside of work hours, I seem to bowl you over without saying a word." That made her fume even more, and he smiled again; it seemed as though it would soon reach his ears. Once he made sure that she was steady on her feet, he pulled his hand away... only to find that it was smeared with blood. Confused, he looked back up to meet her eyes, and saw a thin cut across her forehead. Seeing his gaze move up and widen slightly, she reached a hand up, and touched it to her forehead. When she drew it back and saw the blood on her fingers, she looked back up at Jane. She was frowning.

"Well, thank you Jane. This is just great. Not only do I have loads of paperwork to get through, but on top of that I have to worry about a cut to my forehead, and a..." she looked down at her hand. "... and a gash to my hand. Well, this day just keeps getting better and better."

Patrick was still smiling, though it had shrunk considerably. "I am so very sorry, Teresa. Let me help you," he offered his help as she looked around for the first-aid kit that was somewhere on her desk. He found the bag, and held it in front of her face, pulling it away when she made a grab for it. "It's the least you could do to let me help you." He didn't wait for an answer; instead he took her good hand and led her over to the couch he had been laying on just a few minutes ago.

"What do you mean, it's the least I can do?" He smiled at the outraged look on her face. "You were the one who made me fall over the desk; you might as well have pushed me!" He opened the first-aid kit, and acted as if he was no longer paying attention. He was, of course. He decided to have a little fun at her expense. He made her sit on the couch, while he kneeled down on the floor in front of her. The look on her face showed that she was confused, and the smile on his face only made her more so.

"Give me your hand," he said it politely, but with an underlying authority that startled Teresa for a moment, so that she didn't realize that he had taken her hand in his. He unclasped her fingers from the middle of her hand, revealing the thin red gash on her palm. He looked at the wound for a few moments, before bending down to pick up a tube of peroxide. He applied a small amount to his finger, before gently rubbing it against her palm. Teresa must not have noticed what was happening, because as soon as the gel hit her hand, she let out a gasp.

"Sorry about that. Should have warned you that it would sting a little." He took her gasp as a reaction to the peroxide. The expression on her face told him that she was thankful for that; he was a little confused as to why, though. She made a move as if to move her hand out of his grasp, though it could have just been a flinch.

As he continued to rub the peroxide in, it seemed as if a thought came to her mind. "What are you doing here this late, Jane?" A smile crept over his face, as he reached down to pick up a piece of cotton wool, to remove the excess gel on her palm.

"I should ask you the same question." He looked up to meet her eyes, and saw something he had never noticed before; a slight twinkle. He waited there, cotton wool poised just above her hand, waiting for her answer. He had known then why she had gasped; how could he not? It was so obvious; the expression on her face, her body language; it told him everything he needed to know. It intrigued him as to why she had done it. He could almost see her brain working; the dilemma she was facing. She didn't want to answer his question, but she was also wanted him to continue touching her skin. It was a choice between opening herself up to Jane's scrutinies, or keeping quiet and him stopping. She chose the former.

"I was just... getting started on some paperwork," she waited for him to resume tending to her wound. However, that point never came.

"No, Teresa. That's not the truth, is it?" He let the question hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "You're here, because you couldn't face staying in an empty house. So you came back to work, because it's the only place that doesn't remind you of how lonely you are." He was always so blunt; it would have annoyed her, as would have the fact that he had used her first name. Except it hadn't, because he had he started to dab her wound gently with the cotton wool.

"So; now I've answered yours, I think you should answer mine." Her eyes closed slightly at the gentle touch of his fingers as they guided the cotton wool along her palm. He smiled at this gesture; this night was turning out to be more fun than he could have hoped.

"Well, I couldn't sleep." He said it so matter-of-factly, that at first it seemed as if it didn't register in her brain. "This seems to be the only place that I can sleep." Once the excess gel had been removed, he placed the cotton wool to one side, and picked up one of the bandages, and began to wrap it around her palm.

He realized that he had a gentle touch; women had commented on it all his life; especially his wife. It was strange that Teresa chose that moment to voice her opinion why he was here. "It's because of your wife, isn't it?" He looked up at her, a strange look on his face. "The fact that you can't sleep? That's why you can't sleep, right?"

A small smile dawned on his face, as he tried to steer the conversation away from his wife. "Actually, I think it has more to do with the fact that I've been on this team for quite some time now, and I still don't know anything about you." He wanted to get back in control, and this was the only way he knew how.

Teresa was confused at the sudden change of topic; it clearly showed on her face. "Sure you know things about me. You probably know about me than I do!"

He moved his gaze back to her hand as he finished tying the bandage together. "I don't think so. I mean, I know that you look best in green, because it accentuates your eyes," he smiled at the look on her face that he knew was there; he didn't look up. He didn't need to. "I know that the way you relax is to curl up into your couch with a glass of wine and a book. Anything to take your mind off what happens at work. I know that you haven't had a date in months..." he felt her tense at his words and at his touch; he was gently stroking the pal of her hand. He knew she could feel it through the bandage. His plan was working! Now, to go in for the kill. "... and I know that, although you find me annoying, obnoxious and sometimes you hate my guts, I know that, right now, you're loving the feel of my skin on yours, and are finding it hard to resist the urge to jump up off of this couch and kiss me."

There he had said it. Now all there was to do was to look at her face; he knew there would be anger in her face; that was why he did it. Teresa was so much more beautiful when she was angry; the slight flush to her cheeks, the way her eyes seemed to glitter... God, it sounds as if I annoy her just to see those things. Well, that was just it. Lately, his feelings towards Teresa had become... complicated. He wasn't thinking about his wife so much anymore... at least, not when he was with Teresa. It seemed as if all he was thinking about was... well, her! Every moment he was with her, and when he wasn't, he was bombarded with thoughts of her. And those thoughts weren't exactly what you would call 'clean'.

As he looked up to meet her gaze, banishing those thoughts from his mind, he was met with an unexpected expression on her face. It wasn't anger; anger wasn't even close. There seemed to be every expression that he could think of, all mixed up into one. Yet, there was also something else; something raw. Something that looked like... but no, it couldn't be... could it?

She took a deep breath, and leaned over, so now they were so close that their lips were practically touching. The only thing he could see now were her eyes; her emerald green, perfectly round eyes. Eyes that seemed to tell everything and nothing all at once. They filled his vision. He had the sudden urge to close the space between them even further, to finally feel her lips with his. Still, this was one urge that he couldn't act on; at the very least, he would leave with something broken... or missing... or he wouldn't leave at all.

"I've been waiting a long time for you to say that." His eyebrows shot up immediately, and his eyes grew so wide that it was a wonder they didn't fall out of his head. She moved her hands up to his arms. "Because it means that I can finally do this." She leaned in closer, putting more pressure on his upper arms. Her eyes fluttered slightly, until they closed fully. He didn't know what to do. Should he move away? Should he kiss her? He couldn't make his mind up.

It was a good thing that he didn't need to... because Teresa had already made it up for him. She leaned in closer, so that her lips brushed his, before... pushing him to the ground.

-End Of Part One-

A/N:- So, what did you think? Next part should be up soon. Please rate and review.