This is a story very loosely inspired by some spoilers for future episodes, but everything from the character name to the situation comes from my imagination. I've always wanted to write a third-person account of the Jane/Lisbon relationship, so here it is, with a little spin on it.

Disclaimer: Nothing recognisable is mine.

By the way, I've recently joined Twitter and can be found under the same name as my FF penname if anyone is interested.

Rated T for sexual references and angst.

Please enjoy.

Brad Simmons tries to keep his eyes on his computer screen as she passes by. But he just can't help glancing up for a fraction of a second. She's always had that effect on him, ever since the first time he saw her, his eyes are drawn to her, and once he's started looking, it's incredibly hard for him to look away.

It's gotten to the point now, when he can almost sense her presence in a room, can pick her footsteps out of the usual morning stampede in the corridor. He wishes he didn't notice these things; it makes everything just so much harder, but he can't help the way he feels about her. He didn't ask for this to happen.

She of course, notices nothing, as she breezes past him without stopping. And why should she? They work in different divisions. They've never spoken past a polite good morning in the elevator one day. She smiled at him once, when they both waiting for coffee. He'd been in the middle of a really tough case, overworked and pissed off, but that smile had made his day.

He still remembers the first time he saw her, about a week after she'd started at the FBI. Bundling a suspect into the interrogation room, she still carried herself with a distinct grace, even while grappling with a man three times her size. He's heard all the stories about her work with the now-defunct CBI; her reputation precedes her. Tough as nails, yet fiercely loyal to the people she cares about. Smart. Strong. A force to be reckoned with.

Yes she's made mistakes, has committed some serious errors in judgement in the past, but whatever Abbot and the other head honchos might say, he thinks the FBI is lucky to have her.

To them, she is a means to an end, an inconvenient, but necessary step in achieving their true goal; engaging the services of Patrick Jane as an official consultant. He understands why they went to such lengths to get him on the payroll, the man's a law enforcement legend; but he thinks they overlook her potential, which to him, is wrong.

As he watches, Patrick Jane strides into the room, and catches her eye. She makes a beeline for him, and smiles as he hands her a cup of coffee. Their fingers brush as she takes it from him, and Jane leans over to whisper something in her ear that makes her roll her eyes, and swat him.

As the two of them walk off together, laughing, he thinks to himself that Patrick Jane has got to be the luckiest bastard that ever walked this earth. He's walked away scot-free from a murder charge, secured himself a reputable job and top-grade security clearance. He's got Abbot in the palm of his hand, he walks around the Federal Bureau of Investigation like he owns it, and on top of all this, Teresa Lisbon is in love with him.

He knows about the hardships that the mentalist has faced in his earlier life; it's common knowledge after all. However, he makes a point not to think about that, because it makes it harder to dislike him.

They're standing at the other end of the room now, talking softly to each other. He wonders if they are even still aware of the other thirty people in the room. He doubts it.

He's fairly sure they're not sleeping together. He did a little profiling back at Quantico, so he knows how to spot concealment when he sees it. She wants to, that much is obvious. The way she looks at him is evidence enough. And brilliant though he is, Jane's a fool if he doesn't want her too.

It's like a trashy paperback novel playing out in the FBI bullpen. Lingering looks and flirting and innuendo that never seem to be driving towards anything solid. Some days he wants to grab Patrick Jane by those stupid curls and shake him, and ask him what the hell he's waiting for. Though of course, Lisbon would have him in cuffs if he so much as laid a finger on her precious Jane, and not in a good way either.

Her laughter floats across the bullpen, over the whirring and humming of office life. As always, they're happily ensconced in their own little world of two.

He shakes his head ruefully at his own foolishness. He doesn't stand a chance.

He's never seen them fight before; at least not like this. Standing toe to toe in the middle of the bullpen, bellowing at one another until they're literally out of breath. Something's gone wrong on a case, he figures, and neither of them is willing to accept the blame.

She looks as though she'd really like to punch Jane in the face right now, like she's always threatening to; and he for one wouldn't blame her if she did.

"I said I was sorry," Jane is saying, in exasperation. "What else do you want from me?"

"I want you to promise me that you'll stop doing things like this."

He sighs. "This is the way we've been working cases for over a decade, Teresa, why would I stop it now?"

"Because I can't protect you anymore." He can hear the faintest note of pleading in her voice. "Because this time if you go too far it'll be both our asses out of a job and you'll get thrown back into detention. Is that what you want?"

"They're not going to throw me out, if they want to keep their close rate high. And they're not going to throw you out either. They know perfectly well that if you go, I go."

Agent Cho appears from around a corner and mutters a few words to the bickering pair. He assumes he's reminding them of the scene they're causing because Lisbon flushes scarlet and glances guiltily around the room before gesturing to Jane, and heading out to hallway so they can finish their argument in peace.

It really irritates him; the way Jane takes her for granted like he does. He treats her as though she owes him some great debt for getting the job at the FBI. She deserves better than that.

A week later, it finally happens. He enters the cafeteria to see her sitting alone, picking at a salad. She looks depressed and angry, and he realizes with a jolt that she and Jane have had another fight.

She's on her own. Jane is nowhere to be seen. He'll never get a better opportunity than this.

But it's wrong to take advantage of her while she's upset.

Then again, if he wants to win her heart, he has to compete with Patrick Jane, and he needs all the advantages he can get.

His feet seem to make the decision for him, as they carry him over to the table where she sits.

"You mind?"

She looks up. He sees the puzzlement in her eyes as she tries to place him. It's a little disheartening that she's passed him by a hundred times and still doesn't remember his face, while he could pick her from a crowd with ease.

He decides to help her out. "Brad Simmons," he reminds her, gently. "I sit at the desk near the elevator."

He sees a spark of recognition in her eyes. She doesn't invite him to sit however, and he suspects that she's hoping he'll simply move on. That's discouraging, but it just means he'll need to be a little more proactive.

"Can I join you?"

"I guess," she replies, unenthusiastically. "But I'm not really in the mood for talking."

"You looked like you could do with the company."

That was the wrong thing to say; her hackles immediately go up. "If this is a pity thing, I'm not interested," she snaps. "I'm fine. And you can tell that to anyone else who might be wondering too." This comment tells him that she's well aware that people have been talking about her behind her back. Although, with her history and long association with Jane she's probably used to it, he still feels bad for her. Starting at a new agency would be difficult enough without the gossip mill to deal with too.

"Well you might be fine without company, but I could sure use some." He slides into the seat opposite her, and puts his tray down with a soft thud. He's not sure which one of them is more shocked by his forwardness. He's never been the type to keep pursuing someone after an initial rejection; but then again, he's never pursued someone like her before.

"Are you always this pushy?" she asks, taking another forkful of salad.

"No, never. I can't even cut in to the lunch line," he admits.

For the first time, there's a hint of a smile on her face, but she hides it quickly.

"So what makes eating lunch with me special enough to bring out the wild side?"

Well, there's the fact that she's gorgeous, intelligent and funny and he's got the world's biggest crush on her, but instinct is telling him that blurting all this out probably isn't the way to go.

He jabs at her tray with his fork. "You got the last brownie."

In spite of herself, she lets out a little huff of laughter and pushes it towards him. "I don't want it that much anyway," she says. "Have at it."

"I don't think so," he says. "I learnt the hard way that it's never a good idea to steal a lady's dessert."

She raises an eyebrow. "Who gets upset over a shop-bought brownie?"

"Remind me to introduce you to my ex-girlfriend sometime."

She smiles at him again and returns to her salad. He can't quite believe how well this seems to be going. He doesn't think he's ever been this smooth with a woman in his entire life. Maybe she just brings it out in him.

They continue to chat as they finish their lunch and eventually decide to split the brownie. He tries not to notice the way the little moan that emits from her as she takes the first bite, because it makes him want her even more.

"Well," she says, after the last crumb is gone. "I should probably go get back to work now. But thanks, Simmons. It's actually been kind of nice to eat a meal in peace for once."

She's gathering up her trash and preparing to leave. He's got to do it now before the moment passes.

"How would you like to have dinner with me sometime?" he manages to choke out, and she pauses in surprise.

"Like a date?"

She seems to need a moment to get her head around this idea, and he can't help but wonder when she last went on a date.

"Hey, Lisbon."

Unbeknownst to both of them, Patrick Jane has appeared seemingly out of nowhere, holding a steaming cup of tea.

"I'm not talking to you," she scowls at him.

He grins at her. "Oh, lighten up. Abbot and Fischer want us back in the bullpen. Apparently they've had some sort of 'breakthrough.'" He punctuates heavily with air quotes. "I already told her who did it yesterday, if she'd just listened…"

Lisbon sighs. "The fact that she didn't immediately rush off and arrest Michaela Daniel just because you said so is the reason she is the senior agent, and I have the smallest desk in the bullpen."

"It's also the reason that you are my partner, and she is a constant thorn in my side."

"That's funny," she says. "That's how I always used to talk about you."

He is slightly disheartened to see them share a smile at this; apparently she's not quite as angry with him as he initially thought.

"Anyway," says Jane. "The big scary boss man of the FBI awaits. And I expect Abbot will be there too."

She smiles at her partner once more. "I'll be there in a minute."

Jane nods once. "OK, see you in there. Nice to see you, Agent Simmons."

He doesn't like Patrick Jane, for obvious reasons, but he has to admit, it's kind of gratifying that the superstar of the FBI actually took a break from his own greatness long enough to learn his name. He's always thought that a lowly Narcotics agent would have been far beneath his notice.

They both watch as Jane slips past some agents on their way in and disappears around the corner. As he glances up at Lisbon again he notices the longing in her eyes as she gazes after him.

She's quiet for a time, and he wonders what tactful way she's going to choose to turn him down.

"I'd love to have dinner with you," she says, and he's so surprised he has to work hard to keep his jaw from dropping.

"Excuse me?" He needs to confirm what he's just heard before he'll even consider believing it.

"How about Thursday night?" she says. " 7:30?"

"Sure." He'd agree to pretty much anything right now, even if she'd suggested they go and throw themselves off the top of the FBI building.

"See you then."

The day passes quickly. It's lucky they didn't have a bust today or he would have really had trouble keeping his mind on the job, having successfully asked Teresa Lisbon on a date. All his teammates have been asking him why he's in such a good mood all of a sudden, but something holds him back. Nobody else needs to know just yet.

He unlocks his car and decides he'll need to wash it before Thursday night. All these years working in the desert has played havoc with the paintjob and he can barely see out of the windshield for the dust. Not to mention, he has no idea where he should take her; he doesn't know what kind of food she likes, or even what she drinks, and he's only going to get one shot at this. He needs to do it right.

The parking lot is fairly empty; so two familiar voices are clearly audible as he opens the door.

"He did what?"

"Why do you find it so hard to accept that people might want to ask me on dates?"

Clearly, she's told Jane about their dinner plans. Either that, or he's guessed. He was always going to find out about it sooner or later, but he'd hoped it wouldn't be this fast. He hasn't even had time to compose an epitaph yet.

"Of course he wanted to ask you out. He's been mooning over you for weeks. That's not what I'm having trouble accepting."

Of course he's noticed. Even though today was the first time he's actually talked to her and he really tried not to stare at her too much in case she looked up and caught him looking; naturally Jane knew anyway.

"Then what?"

"I don't see why you would want to go out with him."

"A nice, good-looking man who's interested in me. You're right, it's a real mystery."

Jane scoffs, and then a rapid clicking of shoes on concrete alerts him to the fact that Lisbon is approaching. He quickly slides into the car, and holds the door ever so slightly ajar so he can still hear. After a moment she comes into view, with Jane hurrying along behind. He reaches for her hand to stop her in her tracks, and though she rolls her eyes, she doesn't make him let go. Instead she turns to face him, and he notices that they're standing quite close to each other.

"I just think you could do better, that's all," says Jane. "Half the guys on our floor are in love with you, and a couple of the women as well."

She blows out an irritated sigh.

"And if I were to go on a date with any of them, would you react any differently?"

"Yes." Jane doesn't miss a beat, but she shakes her head again.

"Don't lie to me," she whispers. "We'd be having this conversation no matter who I went out with. And Patrick, it's just not fair."

He's never heard her call Jane by his given name before. Nobody does really, except Fischer.

"I'm just looking out for you," he protests.

"No, you're looking out for you. You think you can keep me right where you want me while you go around doing whatever you please."

"I'm not ready for-"

"But I am," she interrupts. "I'm tired of my life revolving solely around my job. I'm ready to get some balance again." She squeezes his hand. "You're not yet, and that's OK, but you can't ask me to wait around for you forever."

"It won't be forever," he insists. "Just another year or two, maybe even six months…"

"Can you promise that to me?" She takes another step towards Jane and they're so close now that Brad wonders how they're not kissing already. "Can you look me in the eye and swear to me that in no longer than two years, you'll be ready to be in a real relationship again?"

There's a long, agonized pause.

"And if I can't?" Finally Jane responds, eyes not quite meeting hers, and she nods.

"Goodnight Jane," she says, stepping away from him again. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Thank God that's over, he thinks to himself, as she heads back in the direction of her car.

"Please don't do this." His relief is short-lived, as Jane's voice rings out again. "Please don't close the door on us."

She walks back over to him, leans in close and kisses his cheek. "But that's the whole problem; I'm already through the door," she says. "And you're not even in the house yet."

This time, Jane lets her leave, and remains standing in the same spot until the sounds of her car peeling out from it's space, resonates around the car park.

"You can come out now, Simmons," he says, as the engine sounds die away. Brad's stomach turns to ice. How does he know he was there? He's been so quiet, so careful.

Jane sighs. "You're in the red 2010 Corolla," he says, in a bored voice. "You thought you were being clever by not shutting the door, but I knew you were there as soon as you got here; you smell like tobacco. Been sneaking a quick smoke on the roof?"

Jane turns his head and looks straight at him; cold eyes seeming to bore through the windshield. Suddenly he can imagine how Red John must have felt, when he strangled him to death.

"A word to the wise," says Jane. "She really hates smokers, so I wouldn't be doing that around her if I were you."

He swallows, nervously. "Thanks."

"I hope you appreciate how lucky you are," Jane goes on. "Treat her right. Don't make her cry. Or I'll kill you."

That's something he thinks that Jane can guarantee.

I don't often write stories where they don't end up together in the end, so it's a bit of a departure from tradition. Still, I hope you found something you liked.