Something in Between

Disclaimer: don't own anything…lyrics by Trespassers William.

Rating: M

Spoiler: 2.15 (Red Herring)

A/N: Written for forthecoast as a thank you for all the fanfic support in the last few months. I can't imagine that I was a treat to talk to when I was freaking out over my stories, so I hope this makes up for it. An amazing thank you to Heather, my beta, for always being so diligent!


"I cannot promise any of the things I want to
But I could not want this any fragment more than I do…"


A sudden gust of wind wakes her up, but it's the unfamiliar surroundings that keep her awake. Part of the room is marred by shadows and one look through the open blinds tells her why.

Apparently, the storm they'd predicted a couple days earlier has finally found its way to their coastline. The thought distracts her long enough for her to crawl across the mattress and shut the window, but on her way back to the relative warmth of the bed she catches sight of the digital alarm clock on the nightstand and registers two slightly disconcerting things.

One, it's a little past 7 am and two, she's naked in an unfamiliar bed.

This leads to a succession of flashbacks reminding her just how she ended up here in the first place, in an apartment she's never been to before. One she'd only recently discovered Jane had.

Unconsciously, she falls back down on the bed, resisting the urge to berate herself out loud for being so irresponsible. She remembers the bottle of tequila, remembers thinking about taking a drink, then resisting as memories of her father reminded her once more of the dangers associated with the liquor. She remembers feeling sad but relieved as she shut the drawer and prepared to leave for the night. Now she wishes that she hadn't stopped in the bullpen on the way out, hadn't been so receptive to the concerned blue eyes watching her from the couch.

Still, Jane was worried for her, and her resolve was weakened and she gave into his suggestion of dinner, maybe a movie, something simple, something danger-free (or so she thought), something to distract her. He'd even let her drive in an effort to make her most at ease, and if she's really honest with herself, she knows that when they pulled up to his apartment at the end of the night, she had been the one to make the first move.

She should be mortified, completely aghast and angry at herself. However, aside from the slight twinge of embarrassment and disbelief at her own spontaneity, the rush of warmth and the smile spreading on her lips are unavoidable as the memory of last night embeds itself in her consciousness.

Thinking back opens a floodgate of recollections that reawaken something dormant inside her. The slow burn spreads through her body as she finally acknowledges the pleasurable soreness in her muscles, the remnants of hands and lips on her skin.

She rolls her face into the pillow, muffling a groan as she tries to fight off the shiver the memory produces. She oscillates between feeling exhilarated and completely irritated with herself.

After all, how stupid could she be to sleep with Jane of all people?

Still, she can't find it in herself to fully be bothered by it. If it were anyone else, she'd have looked for any means to escape by now, but she's still in his bed, still naked, and a part of her secretly reveling in her impromptu recklessness. The faint trace of his scent lingering on the pillow only sparks more vivid images, strong, but unsure hands holding her hips, soft determined lips on her neck, tongue tracing the shell of her ear.

It was sweeter, slower than she anticipated, and despite the mild awkwardness between them, her breath still caught in her throat as his fingers danced across her skin, nails digging into his shoulders as she clung to him.

She wants to blame her zeal on the fact that her last sexual experience had been mediocre at best and a hell of a long time ago. However, now that she's fully awake, lucidity clearing the last cobwebs of sleep from her mind, she understands very quickly that no amount of excuses and rationalizations will ever erase the truth.

She'd wanted it.

She'd wanted every single second of what had happened and even though she's not even begun to decipher what that truly means, it's enough to send a jolt of renewed desire through her. The part of herself that's incredibly susceptible to danger and risk is elated at the thought.

Because, after all, what could be more dangerous than sleeping with Patrick Jane?

Her body hums low with arousal, heat rushing through her veins, pushing rational thought aside, leaving her completely and utterly ambivalent about her next move. Logically, she should be getting dressed; thinking of something to say to make her quick exit, but her body refuses to move, now keenly aware of the softness of these foreign but comfortable sheets. She's relaxed for the first time in weeks, mind pleasantly blank of any thoughts besides replaying the night before. It's a nice change from the anxiety and sadness she's felt for the last couple months.

With a sigh, she acknowledges that Jane's tactic to distract her, to make her feel better actually worked. It scares her because she'd known from the very beginning that this particular method was not part of his plan.

No, she'd been the one to instigate it, push his self control over the edge. She should feel bad, because she'd not even considered if Jane was ready for it, had never even wondered if going down this road would irrevocably change the course of their relationship.

She'd simply acted, desire clouding all rationale, and she can't even find it in herself to regret it, because it feels too good to veer off the path she'd been walking lately, one marred by the horrible reality of being abandoned not by one mentor but two.

Despite thought of the impending conversation with Jane, (wherever he may be), she hasn't felt quite so at peace in a while. Warm and sated, she wants to hold on to this feeling for as long as possible.

She rolls over onto her back, comforter slipping to her waist as she throws an arm over her eyes and heaves a deep sigh, content to lie in silence for a while. However, just a moment later, she hears a soft rustling and then the sound of footsteps. All vestiges of relaxation slip away, as Lisbon realizes that the inevitable "morning after" conversation is going to happen sooner rather than later.

The mattress dips beside her, tightening the sheets across her body, but she doesn't move, doesn't try to cover herself. Modesty is obsolete now, especially when she feels the heat of mild embarrassment seeping the cold from her body.

She's not sure how long they lie like that, but when she takes a deep breath, inhaling the fragrant and very tempting scent of coffee, she can't help but drop her arm, vision refocusing.

Surprisingly, the sight of Jane lying on top of the covers beside her, extending the mug like a peace offering eases the tension away and she discreetly pulls the comforter higher, before propping herself against the pillows and accepting the cup.

"Here," he says, with smiling eyes. "I figured you'd be beating yourself up by now, so I thought the least I could do was provide you with your favorite beverage."

Her pointed glare is quickly mollified by his whimsical smile, encouraging her lips to quirk up in response. She doesn't miss the way his eyes follow the movement of her curls but ignores it for the moment.

"You know me so well," Lisbon replies sarcastically and nearly chokes on the coffee when Jane leans closer to her, impish grin in place.

"Now, I know you even better."

"Oh God," she groans, running fingers through tangled hair. "What did I get myself into?"

Jane rolls his eyes, "Don't be so dramatic, woman."

"Don't be so calm about this," she snaps back even though she's not sure if it's because she's irritated by his nonchalance or because she feels it's her place to say something.

"Why not?" Jane asks. "It's not like we can take back what happened. Besides, even through all the turmoil you probably caused yourself trying to understand why you haven't fled the premises yet like you usually would, you have to admit that you had fun."

He says this with such genuine ease, playful eyes hiding the tiny bit of concern he still has for her that Lisbon isn't sure whether she wants to douse him with her coffee or kiss him. Her eyes unconsciously sweep over his form, from his disheveled blond curls, to the very faint stubble on his jaw, down the rest of him, so solid and comforting beside her. He's traded in his usual attire for a plain white t-shirt and faded blue pajama pants, and though she's never seen him outside his three-piece armor, the change isn't strange, but actually rather nice.

And there's the crux of the matter. She's slept with her consultant and that's fine, Jane is right, they cannot take it back. However, thinking about how good it felt and how incredibly good he looks right now is dangerous. If anything, it's completely irresponsible and unlike her. Setting the coffee mug aside, Lisbon decides that she's had enough self-indulgence to last her a while.

"That's not the point, though," she replies, lips diffusing into a frown, even though Jane's expression remains as amused as before.

"Oh but it is," he counters, propping himself on his elbow to face her. Lisbon stares at him for a moment, before sighing in deep frustration. Despite the good night of sleep she had, her exhaustion over the past few months still disables her slightly and she leans against the pillows, sliding down until she's prone again.

It's clear she's displeased by his nonchalance, but Jane can't help himself.

He doesn't mean to be so blasé about it. He understands the enormity of what they just did but unlike her, he's had hours to think about it, and realizes that although he did not intend for this to happen, he doesn't regret it, can't. Not when he thinks about how for at least one night the hidden traces of sadness and tension that have been lingering in Lisbon's eyes for months now had disappeared. The realization that part of it is his doing imbues him with a sense of accomplishment he can't ignore, put away, or be upset about.

Granted, he probably shouldn't have let her kiss him but, she'd reminded him that his desires had not died with his wife. Try as he might, with her glittering green eyes and tempting lips, he could not resist her magnetic pull. He is a man after all.

Of course, his reasoning has holes, large ones, like the fact that he's turned down women before, effortlessly. Therefore, he has to confront the uncomfortable fact that Lisbon is different, but the implication of that thought is too much even for him. Just for a moment, he lets himself be distracted by the warmth radiating from her body, indulging selfishly in the memory of what she smelled and tasted like.

He decides that last night in all its inelegance cannot possibly be a mistake with all the weight that fell from her shoulders. For that reason alone, he doesn't feel guilty, even though he probably should.

Unable to resist, Jane trails a finger down her arm; Lisbon stares at him, confusion then a faint flicker of desire in her dark green irises. He doesn't stop, thumb brushing along her clavicle, dipping into the groove there before descending.


Her voice comes out thicker, raspier than she intended, but his touch on her skin wipes away any more thought of resistance. Jane seems impervious to her half-hearted attempt anyway, as he maps out a path down her chest, tracing the delicate gold chain around her neck before stopping at the pendant. The sheet slides down with his hand, goose bumps spreading across the tops of her breasts. His gaze flickers down as he imprints the cross into her skin.

"Tell me something," Jane murmurs, hand slipping dangerously beneath the comforter, thumb tracing her ribs unhurriedly. Lisbon wonders if he feels her heart racing, nerves on fire as he teases her. She should stop him, she knows that, but whether it's the captivating pull of his eyes, or the seduction in his touch, she can't be sure.

She just knows she doesn't want him to stop…ever.

"When was the last time you just let yourself feel, hmm?" Jane continues his train of thought, fingers dancing across her stomach. He goes slowly, watching her, telling her silently that she can stop him whenever she pleases, even though he's certain that she won't.

"With the exception of last night, tell me when was the last time you stopped thinking, stopped worrying, and just let yourself be?"

He asks this just as his finger traces over her hip bone, and the touch paired with the words jolts something inside her, a slight tremor as she pulls a little away from him.

"Don't do that," she whispers, her tone a try for stern but coming out more vulnerable than before. He sees the whisper of fear in her expression, but doesn't back down, for the first time seeing the spark of her natural defiance staring back at him. It ceases to be about anything else, except preserving that fire in her eyes.

"I'm not doing anything you don't want me to," he says simply, accentuating the point by dragging his fingers across her skin once more, right under her navel. The sheet is all but forgotten, but there's no shyness in her expression at all. He's seen her blush so many times from less than this, that the faint pink in her pale cheeks is nothing; instead she stares at him with narrowed but understanding eyes.

It gives him the extra bit of courage that it takes to slide his hand between her thighs, now familiar and pliant skin responding to his touch. The slightly deeper intake of breath and parted lips are the only indication that she feels something, but it sends a jolt of arousal through him so deep he has to suppress his groan, memory of how it felt to be inside her clouding his mind.

"Both of us know that if you didn't want to be here, you wouldn't be." He keeps his eyes on her, pulled in by her tightly-reined lust-filled gaze. Her inner conflict is almost more seductive to him than her state of undress.

"We both know if you didn't want me to touch you like this." His hand presses further, fingers beginning to move just barely. "I would have had my arm broken a long time ago."

Unwittingly, a smile appears on her lips, lighting her eyes even more. Jane can't help but smile back.

"It's true," Lisbon acknowledges quietly; the mirth in her tone belying the depth of her words .

Jane pulls her closer, the single freckle on her lower lip standing out, asking to be kissed.

"The question is, now that you're here, what are you going to do about it?"


Perhaps she takes Jane's advice too literally, but when she kisses him, all thought evaporates from her mind. She doesn't second guess her actions, doesn't doubt herself, she's not even sure that she's breathing, but it doesn't matter, because his lips seem to diminish her need for oxygen.

He tastes like mint and something spicy, probably some flavor of tea she's never heard of. For a second, she wonders what she must taste like, but then dispels the thought, willing herself to push everything out of her mind, indulge in the moment. Her competitive side wants to prove to Jane that she's capable of it even without the safe cover of darkness and she presses him closer against her, teeth scraping against his lower lip.

Her hands slide down his back, slipping underneath the t-shirt to rid him of the garment, but Jane refuses to move. Instead he pushes her onto her back, fingers burying themselves completely inside her as her thighs loosen of their own accord.

The sudden burst of pleasure nearly paralyzes her, but Lisbon fights through it. She fists his shirt, this time biting his lip out of frustration. Lowering his entire weight onto her, Jane finds her breast with his free hand, thumb grazing over aroused flesh as he drags his fingers out of her, only to push back in. Lisbon spasms, groaning into his mouth, nails digging into his bicep, holding on in one last-ditch attempt to maintain control.

Suddenly, Jane breaks the kiss, willing her to open her eyes. She doesn't say anything, but gazes at him questioningly, short breaths expelling from her parted lips as she trembles.

"You need to stop fighting it," he says, his tone amazingly even despite the lust smoldering in his eyes. She notices the hesitance in his gaze, a faint mirror of her own; she slides her hand down, brushing against his arousal.

His jaw sets and Lisbon leans up, a hint of a smile at the realization that she's not the only one struggling and whispers, "After you."

It's a challenge, but Jane's not intimidated. Instead, he chuckles softly before pressing his hips against hers, picking up her gauntlet. Despite his best efforts to ignore it, the soft texture of her lips leaves him breathless. Still he's determined not to let this end too soon, not like last night.

He nuzzles her neck affectionately, before bracing himself on his hand to look at her fully, amused smile playing on his lips.

"It's always a tug-o-war with you. Always a vie for control." His fingers, still encased in her heat, don't cease their movement, curling and unfurling inside her, as his thumb teases her. Her cheeks flushing into a beautiful pink shade.

"Nothing is ever simple with you, is it?"

Her expression is unreadable, dark green eyes clouded with desire. After a moment though, her lip curves upwards and she releases his t-shirt, sliding her hand around his neck to pull him down into a slow but potent kiss. They break apart eventually, breaths mingling in the air.

"If you wanted simple, Jane, you wouldn't have let me kiss you last night."

He looks taken aback for a moment, but then smiles brilliantly at her, a flicker of normalcy as she sees his usual grin return.

"It's true," he agrees, echoing her earlier words, a hint of seriousness concealed by his playful expression.

Still, Lisbon sees through the layers of lust and mirth all interwoven together, and a sort of silent understanding passes between them. It's not casual anymore, probably never was, but the insinuation of anything deeper is too stifling, too intimidating for the moment, so she lets her eyes flutter shut, simply enjoying the feel of him on top of her.

Jane seems to sense the exact moment she finally lets her guard down completely and presses a barely there kiss to her temple.

"Don't think, just feel," he reminds her.

And this time, she does.


She pulls the shirt from his body without warning, cool fingers sliding down his stomach, before settling on the waistband of his pants.

Despite last night's uncertainty, he'd learned a lot about her body in those few hours, where she likes to be touched, where she'd prefer his lips rather than his hands. It's apparent that she has learned some things about him too, because when her tongue sweeps playfully over his throat, he has to clench his teeth against the sudden spark of pleasure. In retaliation, he seeks out her warmth again, fingers setting a traitorous rhythm.

Lisbon moans into his neck, burying her lips there as his weight pins her down. He expects her to fight it, half crescent marks still fading on his shoulders from where she'd dug her nails into him hours prior, resistant against what was happening almost as much as she was enjoying it.

However, this time her hands merely curl around his arms, something to hold onto rather than to rail against. When she falls back against the pillow, back arching as his thumb draws slow circles into her skin, he covers her mouth with his, leaving no crevice unexplored.

She breaks the kiss, pressing her palms against his chest as her breath becomes shallower, teeth biting into her lower lip. At first he's confused, but then she tightens around him, a succession of deep sighs expelling from her lips, and he realizes that she's incredibly close.

The realization merely encourages him to splay kisses on her cheek, her shoulder, her neck, going even lower; tongue swiping over her nipple making her hiss in response. When he looks back up, he finds her staring at him, a wild, unfocused glint in her eye and it reels him in.

Despite the discomfort of his position, he holds himself over Lisbon and maintains eye contact, fingers moving instinctively, responding to her soft mewls, letting her guide his hand. The only sounds in the room are her occasional sighs and the sound of skin being warmed. It's only when she slides her calf over the back of his, holding him in place, that he leans down, kisses her cheek, and whispers,

"I want you to feel good."

Lisbon's eyes level with his for a second, surprised, before her breath catches in her throat, and she unfurls in his arms, shaking with release. Jane doesn't stop until she breathlessly begs him to, and then he's completely on top of her, settled between her thighs, and she's gasping hard against his neck. Not a moment later, determined but shaky hands slide down his back, chilly fingers slipping inside his pants.

He wants to tell her to stop, to slow down, but then she wraps her small fist around him, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to stave off the disabling spindles of pleasure that originate from her touch, delicious friction building faster than he anticipates.

Somehow, he ends up on his back, and suddenly she's kissing her way down his stomach. In the haziness of his mind, Jane realizes what she's about to do and tries to stop her,

"Lisbon, you don't have to-…"

She looks up then, an amused glint in her eye as she holds him at her mercy. Jane realizes then that whether or not she continues, he's not going to last much longer with her looking at him like that.

"I know I don't have to," she says impishly, green eyes twinkling from beneath dark lashes. There's not a hint of hesitation or shyness in her demeanor and it takes all of his willpower not to flip her over and slide into her right then and there.

"Don't think so hard," Lisbon teases, echoing his earlier suggestion, and that seems to cement his decision. His hand curves around the back of her head, and he pulls her in for a hot, opened mouthed kiss, tongue easily slipping past the barrier of her teeth.

The kiss sends a shock of arousal right through her, but Lisbon recovers quickly, smiling at him before descending his body again, thighs trapping him in place. The first touch of her tongue on his skin reminds him of just how long it's been since he's been with a woman. He thinks about guilt, but doesn't actually feel it. How can he when it feels so good, so right to be like this with her.

His hand finds itself buried wrist deep in her hair, while the other strokes the soft skin of her shoulder, the gentle swipe of her tongue disabling the last vestiges of his self control.

He simply can't stop touching her. She moans into him when his thumb finds her nipple, the reverberation making him shiver as she digs her nails into the skin of his stomach.

The power play distracts him until she wraps her hand around him again and then he knows that if he doesn't stop her, this will be over way too quickly.

Her name spills unconsciously from his lips, voice thick with lust, and it diverts her long enough for him to pull her up, ignoring the shudder that skitters down his spine as she glides on top of him, skin to skin, no barriers.

Lisbon gazes at him affectionately and despite the growing ache of being so close to her but not inside her, Jane doesn't look away, doesn't do much in fact, except trail his fingers to her hip, over the back of her thigh and up again. She's uncertain for a moment, but then reaches out and runs her fingers through his hair, indulging in a fantasy she's certain most women who've come into contact with him have had. The thought brings a playful smile to her face, a second of sinful pride bubbling inside her.

"What?" Jane asks, breath fanning across her cheek.

"Nothing," Lisbon shakes her head, curls tickling his shoulder. "It just feels good, that's all."

Her smile fades, intensity seeping into her dark green eyes, one he's certain is reflected in his own gaze as they put all jokes aside. He kisses her unexpectedly again, then finally flips her over.

Lisbon lets out a yelp, but doesn't fight, shivering pleasantly beneath his solid frame, sucking in her breath imperceptibly as his arousal grows more prominent, nestled between her thighs. It's so tempting to just give in, let her hips guide him inside, but somewhere in her clouded mind, there's some trace of lucidity. Jane seems to echo her thoughts, both reaching for the silver package sticking out of her purse at the same time.

They glance at each other briefly as Lisbon retrieves the condom, tearing the wrapper open. Though the action had given them pause the night before, almost an awkward deterrent to their plans, right now it's merely an interlude, no embarrassment, no uncertainty, just a necessary precaution. Thus, when Lisbon tosses the empty package aside, Jane wastes no time tucking her leg right underneath his arm and burying himself deep inside her.

Their breaths come almost in unison as he pulls out of her halfway, only to thrust back in again, setting a rhythm she matches with ease. She keeps one hand on his shoulder, the other clutching the comforter that's somehow gotten entangled with their legs.

The pleasure building in her limbs intensifies as Jane shifts slightly, her heel digging into his back as he moves within her, pace slow but determined, less unsure now, more aware of what she likes. His eyes never leave hers, even with the rushing sensation hitting every dormant nerve ending, reawakening his entire body; the feel of her no longer just a memory but experience, lighting a fire in the pit of his stomach.

She cries out as he thrusts a little harder, pushes in a little deeper, her fingers digging into the curves of his shoulder blades more desperately. Their locked gaze only intensifies and when she gathers her lower lip between her teeth, jade eyes completely glazed over with desire, Jane can't help himself and pins her arms above her head.

Jane leans down, tongue gliding over her breast. He brushes her cross accidentally but the taste of metal does nothing to detract from the pleasure he's feeling, if anything it makes her taste even sweeter by contrast. He circles an areola, teeth nipping gently, but the sight of her thrashing beneath him is so alluring, he finally surrenders, senses overpowered as he crushes his lips on hers, claiming her with a deep kiss.

The feel of him so snug inside her, stretching her, letting her feel every inch of him obliterates her restraint and before Lisbon realizes what's happening, the tightness in her stomach dissolves, a pleasant fire traveling through her veins. His name spills into the air between them and Jane immediately wraps his arms around her, holding her as close as possible as she comes, muscles contracting around him without reprieve, driving him closer and closer to the precipice.

The pleasure is so evident on her face, it spurs a surge of warmth and he presses a tender kiss to the corner of her mouth as she trembles in the aftershock. Her eyes flutter open a moment later, realizing that he's still moving inside her, still just as solid and warm. She meets his gaze, green eyes shining adoringly as she sees the internal battle reflected in the sea of his irises.

All it takes is the tentative press of her lips to his jaw and the husky words whispered into his ear.

"Just let go."

And he does, hips pushing almost violently into hers as the orgasm rips through him, lips pressed into the skin of her shoulder as the pleasure culminates. After a few moments, he stills, heart beating fast, as he tries to catch his breath, satisfying lethargy already washing over his body.

Lisbon tangles her fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck, comforted rather than stifled, by his weight on her. She slips one leg from beneath his and strokes the back of his calf with her foot, soothing him as he relaxes further into her, soft breaths feathering against her collarbone.

Eventually, Jane breaks the connection, rolling away for a moment to dispose of the condom before settling himself at her side again. Her own heartbeat calms down slowly as she stares at the ceiling, searching for any trace of nerves or anxiety but feeling nothing but satiation and contentment. It should scare her, but by this point, there's really nothing that can be done, no excuses to be made, so instead Lisbon reaches down and pulls the comforter higher, wrapping them both.

Jane lies comfortably besides her, chin pressed into her shoulder as he traces the cross pendant on her skin. His fascination with the necklace amuses her and she plans to tell him so, but the first rays of sunlight after the stormy morning spill in through the half open blinds. They reflect off the pendant, alerting her to the absence of something she's used to seeing every day.

Words crowd her throat, her mind reeling with the discovery. Reaching out, she snags his left hand, thumb brushing over his bare ring finger.


She turns to look at him, green eyes clouded with a million questions she can't even begin to ask. Still, despite the enormity of the revelation, he simply smiles at her, squeezing her hand before intertwining their fingers together.

"Regardless of what this is between us," he starts softly, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, "I wouldn't be able to disrespect you or my…past by leaving it on, at least not for the moment."

There's a flicker of pain in his gaze that doesn't go unnoticed by her, and the tug on her heart is unexpected. Lisbon squeezes his hand back, returning his smile as she turns on her side to face him.

"This is crazy," her voice trails off for a moment. "Even for us."

At this, Jane grins, the creases around his eyes returning as he brings her hand up to his lips.

"Maybe, but it won't change anything for the worst, I promise you that." He kisses the inside of her palm as a sort of seal, and Lisbon laughs lightly.

"I know that," she replies. The thought that their current relationship would be ruined was actually one of the few things she hasn't considered to be a consequence of this night. However, now that he's brought it up, she can't help the twinge of worry that tugs at her.

"It's just that, we can't go back to the way things were before and neither one of us is ready for anything else."

Her voice is even, careful, knowing that what they both need most now is her honesty. Jane seems to contemplate her words, lips pursed together in thought. On any other day, she'd tease him about it, but now she anxiously awaits his answer.

Eventually, his mouth relaxes, not quite a smile but his eyes reflect an openness she's used to seeing in those rare moments that he lets his guard down.

"You're right about that. This does change things somewhat but I'll tell you what…"

He shifts closer to her, finger curling around a strand of her hair. "How about we don't think in extremes, what about just settling for something in between?"

He gazes at her hopefully, and she bites the inside of her cheek, ambivalent.

The last few months flash through her mind, a string of moments that have left her disheartened, questioning the importance of her job, sometimes even her own sanity. However, through it all, she'd never really questioned the strength of her relationship with Jane. Though he's never really curbed his antics, she's come to understand him better and in turn, he's let her see a little more of himself, has shown her in his own way that he cares.

She'll never delude herself into thinking that this could ever turn into anything more than what it is right now, at least not until Jane stops chasing his demons and she makes peace with hers. However, she's also tired, completely exhausted of having to count only on herself, and although it's probably not the smartest thing to rely on Patrick Jane of all people, the shoulder he's tentatively offering her is hard to resist.

And with all the countless reasons for her not to do this, one strong internal voice is telling her to go for it. She opens her mouth to speak, but never has the chance. Jane's eyes gleam shrewdly at her.

He already knows what she's going to say.