AN: I think I have a problem. Three one-shots in like 10 days. I'm so excited for November 30 to get here that I can't think about anything else right now.

If you haven't/aren't, I encourage you all to vote for The Mentalist in the TV Crime Drama category of the People's Choice Awards. And vote a LOT - there isn't a limit. It'd be awesome if we could win this year!

Waves and Wonders

She took another long look in the mirror. This was as pointless as the last time she had done this, not five minutes ago. She'd done very little since, certainly not enough to smudge her make-up or ruin her hair. In fact, the only thing that had changed was that her cheeks were redder than they had been.

In another two minutes, she was going downstairs to the hotel bar. That wasn't such a big deal, though she would have normally preferred to simply have a beer in her room. No, the problem was that she was meeting Jane for a drink.

And that was giving her all sorts of fits.

This entire day was.

Good fits, she hastily amended, but fits none the less.

She was officially on vacation for the next four days, as was Jane. Actually, Jane was suspended thanks to incurring the TSA's wrath and Abbott had given her the time to rearrange her life again. However, Jane had asked her to spend the night in the Keys before flying back to Austin, and she'd agreed.

She hadn't seen him in hours, not since they'd left the airport. He'd had to go make formal apologies and meet with the Miami bureau agents to give his statement about the case he'd closed. She'd have to ask him about that later. Or not. It didn't seem important now.

He'd called her on his way back to the small island, making sure she'd gotten back to her room, and then had asked, almost shyly, if she'd like to meet him for drinks and dinner that evening.

With time to kill, she'd gone shopping in the hotel's boutique. After everything that had happened, she just couldn't see herself wearing one of the dresses he'd bought for his stupid plan, though she was hoping someday she could get over it.

She'd selected something floaty and breezy, not her usual style, but then again, nothing was usual about today. She added new shoes, too, ignoring the price tag.

The hell with it. She was going to be self-indulgent today.

Hours later, hair pulled loosely up, new wardrobe in place, she found that the idea of going downstairs was more than a little terrifying.

Not as scary as getting off of a plane, throwing a life with a stable, good man away. Not even as scary as walking into that interrogation room and confronting him about what he'd said.

But still scary.

Suddenly, getting a drink to settle her nerves before she saw him again looked massively appealing.

She sank gratefully into an empty bar stool and ordered a glass of wine, taking a large gulp as soon as it was front of her. She knew it was all in her head, but she immediately felt a bit more steady.

Right up until she felt the feather-light pressure of fingers on her lower back. Startled, she looked up.

Jane was smiling at her, that joyful, infectious grin he had when he was genuinely happy. She didn't think she'd ever seen it this broad though.

"Hi," he said, still barely touching her. "You look beautiful."

"Hi, thank you," she managed to get out, smiling like an idiot a bit herself.

There was a moment of awkward silence, and she took another drink. His eyes followed the movement of her glass, lingering on her lips, and she swallowed with some difficulty.

"I figured you'd be down here drinking tequila shots," he teased.

"When I lived in Washington," she told him, "I got really into wine. There was a local vineyard there that did an amazing job." No need to tell him that she drank a great deal of the stuff while poring over his letters. Anything to numb the pain, just a touch.

He took the glass from her hand and took a sip. "Sweet," he commented. She hardly noticed, distracted by the implied intimacy of the gesture. His fingers were still on her back. "Some day," he went on, "I want to see where you lived. I find it strange, not being able to picture where you were for two years."

"I understand that," she said, smiling now. "I have this idea in my head about what your little island looked like, but I'm sure I'm way off."

His eyes were warm. "Well, then we'll go there, too."

"Okay," she whispered, the idea of the promise of a future with him intoxicating.

He held her smile for a moment longer before turning to the bartender and ordering a pina colada.

When their drinks were finished, they passed through to the dining room. Jane had taken her hand as they walked, loosely twining their fingers.

This seemed so surreal.

He told her about the case over dinner, embellishing a bit, she was sure, but by the end, she was laughing out loud, wiping her eyes with her napkin.

When she glanced up, the expression on Jane's face was arrested, intense.

Shy now, she ducked her head again. "Stop looking at me like that," she almost whispered.

Jane reached across the table and gently ran the backs of his fingers down her cheekbone. "No," he said quietly, and she instinctively met his eyes. "For the first time, I don't have to hide what I feel for you, so I'm not going to."

She found it difficult to focus on much of anything after that.

Around sunset, they found themselves outside on the wide deck that overlooked the beach in the back of the hotel. She was leaning against the wooden railings, face turned to the soft breeze that was drifting in from the ocean.

"You're so beautiful," Jane whispered, close to her ear, softly stroking the back of her neck.

It suddenly struck her that she and Jane hadn't even embraced properly since he'd kissed her. Strange - they'd had plenty of opportunities.

She turned to him, looked up at his face. She saw love, affection, and...fear?

And then she realized - he was afraid. As scared as she had been, this had to be worse for him. He'd had to overcome so much to be in this moment with her, all of the habits and defense mechanisms he'd adopted over the past decade, all of the walls he'd put up. He'd kept all of his touches light, gentle, barely there.

Perhaps she could meet him halfway, ease this process along.

Slowly, telegraphing what she was going to do, she reached for him, taking both of his hands and pulling his arms around her, leaning back against his chest as she resumed her observance of sunset.

She could feel his breath against her hair. In another moment, he rested his chin on her shoulder, and they existed in peaceful silence.

"This is a little different from the last sunset we saw together, isn't it?" he murmured.

She smiled, though there was no humor in it. "A little," she agreed.

"I loved you then, too," he said unexpectedly, and her heart skipped a beat. "Just so you know."

She closed her eyes, focused on the feel of him behind her, solid, real. "I think I knew then. Or at least, I wanted to believe you did. I so wanted you to say it that night," she admitted, then wondered if she had made a mistake.

His arms tightened around her. "I almost did," he said. "After all, I wasn't sure if I was going to make it back." He paused, and she felt him kiss her hair. "But I needed to keep you safe," he whispered. "I needed to keep you away from the situation so I could think. If I told you I loved you that night, I thought there was a pretty good chance you'd say it back. And there was no way I could have left you after that."

Something loosened in her chest, and she realized suddenly how much she had needed to hear him say that, to tell her why. She had carried the hurt of those last days around with her for years. It was beyond time to let it go.

"I love you," she said.

She swore she felt him shudder, and it was a moment before he spoke. "I love you," he told her hair.

The sky had changed to dark blue before she moved or spoke again. Behind her, Jane had been silent, too, occasionally toying with her fingers where they rested against his.

"What now?" she asked, then hastily added, "I mean about tonight." It was far, far too early to talk about the other meaning her question could have had.

"Hmm," he murmured. "Well, I haven't sleep in about two days, due to some very poor planning on my part, and also, I think my ankle is swelling again."

Eyes wide, she turned to him, stepped away. "Oh my God, Jane! Why didn't you say something?" She glanced down. He had both shoes on, meaning if there was some swelling, it had too be terribly uncomfortable.

His smile was soft. "Because what I was doing what much more important."

Her lips tilted up. "And that's very sweet, but you're an idiot. You need to get off your feet and sleep." She ignored her disappointment that their evening would be cut short.

"That sounds like an excellent plan," he said, and she felt a little upset that he wasn't regretful about their abbreviated time together.

But then he found her hands, pulled her against him. "Teresa," he whispered into her ear. "Can I hold you tonight?"

Unable to speak, she nodded, then hastily swiped at an unexpected tear, her face pressed to his shoulder.

Fifteen minutes later, clad in yoga pants and a baggy t-shirt, she was slipping into Jane's bed. Too late, she wished she would have bought some sort of elegant pajamas today as well. But judging by Jane's smile, he didn't appear to mind.

This was the first time she'd seen him this...undressed, she supposed. Pajama pants and a white t-shirt were items she'd never been able to picture him in before. He held out his arms and she willingly snuggled into him, the familiar scent of his cologne surrounding her.

After a moment, he reached over her and turned off the bedside lamp, and they breathed together in the darkness.

Jane had opened a window earlier, and she could hear the distant crashing of the waves. On a whim, and simply because she could, she gently ran a hand through those golden curls of his.

She could see his sleepy smile even in the negligible amount of light coming into the room. He had never been more open to her.

Propping herself on one elbow, she softly traced his lips with the tips of her fingers, then leaned down and kissed him.

He touched her face, lips warm and pliant beneath hers, one arm curled around her waist.

This was a fantasy come to life. She still wasn't sure how to react, what to do, when to stop...if she should stop.

However, instinctively, she knew tonight wasn't the night to take this the rest of the way. It was too new, touching him, being touched. She needed some time to wrap her mind around it, and so did he.

So she tucked herself back into his side, head against his heart, smiling to herself because she had just kissed Patrick Jane goodnight.

"Sleep well, Teresa," he whispered. "I'm so glad I get to see you when I wake up."

She remembered his words from the plane, and she kissed his chest. "Me, too," she told him.

Outside, the waves continued to roll in, breaking on the beach. Inside, for the first time, she felt like, perhaps, she wasn't breaking any more.