Author's Note: ONESHOT – Vega vacillates after dancing with Wylie.

This goes out as a big thank you and Happy Birthday present to We Built the Pyramids. Not only did she get me into watching The Mentalist - and it makes me really sad to think I might have missed it otherwise – but she's been (gently) bugging me to write some TM fic. When she wrote a Wega story ( Here I Am – go check it out ), I got inspired to write one of my own. So thanks – I hope you like it!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Mentalist. This story is for entertainment purposes only. I make no profit and no infringement of copyrights is intended.

Dancing in the Dark

"You can't start a fire, you can't start a fire without a spark; This gun's for hire even if we're just dancing in the dark." - - Bruce Springsteen

Michelle slowly pulled away as the music faded. The band leader took the mike and thanked the crowd as a smattering of applause rose from the dancers. Wylie smiled shyly down at her as they added their own enthusiastic clapping to the appreciative gesture.

The band members bowed and waved in turn as the leader mentioned their names and the level of applause rose slightly for each. Then the leader thanked the audience again, reminded them of the band's name and bid them all a good night, urging them to drive safely.

Vega stiffened. Her own car was in the shop. Her grateful boss was paying the repair bill, so she could avoid any awkward questions - and premium increases - from her insurance company. When the team decided to celebrate, Abbott had offered her a ride. But he and Lena left about an hour earlier. Abbott caught her eye as they left, but she'd waved him on. They lived way on the other side of town, and it was obvious to her that the couple had other things on their minds besides playing chauffeur to a third wheel. She would just take a cab home.

The fairground where they'd gathered, while popular, was also a bit out of the way. At this hour, cabs were thin on the ground and even if she called one, she could be waiting awhile before it arrived. It's not that she was concerned for her safety, stuck out here late at night alone. She was an FBI agent, after all and could certainly take care of herself. She just really hated waiting. It was such a waste of time.

The last of the applause died and couples began to move off the dance floor, back to the picnic tables that served as casual seating for those patronizing the food trucks that lined the perimeter. Jane and Lisbon were sitting on one side of their table, practically wedged against each other and grinning. They'd obviously been teasing each other again. Vega marveled. Did they really think they were fooling anyone? Their feelings for each other fairly oozed off them in waves, like warm, sticky syrup. She wondered if she would ever find someone that she might feel that way about, and her thoughts returned to the tall, impossibly blond man beside her. Just then, a warm, slightly damp hand took hers and she looked up. He nodded back towards the table and swung their joined hands in that direction, indicating they should vacate the dance floor as well.

"Would you like another drink before all the trucks call it a night?" Wylie asked.

"Ummm," she thought, pondering the wisdom of another large intake of liquid when she might be stuck here for awhile. The later it got, the more disagreeable the portable toilets became. She really didn't want to visit them again. "I don't think I should," she answered.

Wylie shrugged and nodded and began moving towards the table, his hand still holding hers lightly.

Vega looked up again and noticed Cho, munching on a taco and apparently trying to ignore the couple across from him. Suddenly concerned, she disentangled her hand from Jason's and glanced at him apologetically, nodding at the man who would soon be their boss. He smiled and nodded in return, showing he understood.

Vega wondered, not for the first time, if something was starting between herself and Wylie. Only now she began to contemplate whether it was something she needed to stop before it got started. She'd meant what she said a couple of weeks ago. She really just wanted to concentrate on the job right now. She wasn't looking for any personal entanglements and certainly not one that could potentially jeopardize her position on the team. But maybe, while she wasn't looking, the entanglement found her anyway.

She liked Jason. She really liked him. Sure, he wasn't a great dancer, but he was a lot of fun. He was also funny - and for a woman raised in an Hispanic family, his pale Nordic blondness was practically exotic. Plus, underneath the endearing geekiness, he was actually pretty solidly built and strong. She'd noticed when they were dancing that he was toned and well-muscled. She had to admit she'd enjoyed the feeling of leaning against his chest with his arms around her as they swayed to the slower tunes.

She shook herself mentally when they got to the table and she stepped over the bench to take a seat next to Cho. Wylie took a seat across from her, next to Lisbon. She needed to get a grip on her girly, romantic notions. She and Wylie were teammates, nothing more. They were at a music festival, with a good band. Dancing had just been a friendly, fun thing to do. It was a good way to work off the tension of a long, but very satisfying, week with a little physical activity. It didn't have to mean anything at all.

She grinned at the silent man next to her. "I guess the tacos here are really good, huh Cho?"

"Yeah," he agreed, swallowing the last bite and fastidiously grabbing a fresh napkin from a small stack by his plate and cleaning his fingers. He rose from his seat and piled the spent napkins on top of the paper plate in front of him. Grabbing it, he cleared his throat and faced the other two members of the team. "Goodnight, you two," he said, "find a room on your way home, okay?"

Lisbon and Jane, startled out of their preoccupation with each other, looked up, Lisbon blushing. She was really pretty when she blushed, Michelle thought. Jane just smirked.

"Yeah, okay," Lisbon said, trying to cover her embarrassment, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Cho," Jane said, "And congratulations, again. You really deserve this."

The consultant nodded his head, his unruly curls bouncing. Never completely controlled, Vega noticed they were practically rioting around his ears this evening, undoubtedly the effect of some of the vigorous dancing he'd been doing earlier. Lisbon probably enjoyed tangling her fingers in that hair, she thought, and felt a slight blush rising to her own cheeks at the image of her teammates that appeared embarrassingly in her mind's eye. They weren't that much older, but the thought was a bit like imagining her parents. She banished both thoughts from her mind.

"You need a ride, Vega?" Cho asked, and Michelle was startled out of her thoughts and back to reality.

"Ummm," she started, not sure if she wanted to end the evening with an uncomfortable ride home with her mentor.

"I can give you a ride!"

Michelle turned and smiled at Wylie, who grinned back, his face reflecting his enthusiasm at the idea.

Cho glanced between the two young agents and then back at the older pair and shook his head.

Michelle groaned inwardly, but she just couldn't bring herself to make the prudent choice of a silent ride home with her future boss over the possibility of extending the evening - if only briefly - with Wylie.

"I ummm," she began again, "Thanks, Cho, but I think...I need another drink after all that dancing. I'll hang here and catch a ride with Jas...Wylie."

Cho made a noise that could have been a grunt. Vega tried to convince herself that her future boss wasn't scowling at her in disapproval. After all, she hadn't done anything wrong at all...not yet.

"Hmmph," Cho grumbled, "Goodnight, then." He stepped over the bench and turned to walk towards the parking lot. "See you all Monday!" he called as he dumped his trash in one of the large bins that were spaced on the perimeter of the seating area.

Michelle swiveled on the bench and set her elbows on the table, dropping her head in her hands.

"I'll get you that drink!" Jason said, jumping up and dashing towards the nearest food truck to place the order before they closed down for the night.

"It's really not against the rules, you know," Jane said, "not for you two, anyway."

"Jane!" Lisbon said, punching him lightly.

"What?" Michelle asked, looking up and staring at the consultant.

"You and Wylie," Jane continued, his grin widening, "There's nothing in the FBI rules against dating another agent, as long as neither of you is in a supervisory position over the other."

"We're not..." she began, but Jane interrupted.

"Neither were we," he said, his voice softening as he turned towards the woman beside him. He hesitated, then put his arm around her, "and then we were."

"Jane!" Lisbon said again, lowering her voice to a whisper, "I thought we weren't going to tell anyone yet!"

"They know," he whispered back, "Even Cho knows."

"I know but..." Lisbon began, then shrugged and looked up at him, resigned. "I guess after tonight we really aren't fooling anyone, are we?" she laughed.

"We never were," he answered, and leaned down to kiss her gently.

Michelle turned to look toward the food trucks, not wanting to stare as the other couple shared a private moment. Wylie was approaching, two large cups in his hands. He stopped dead when he caught sight of Jane publicly kissing Lisbon in a fashion that left no question as to the nature of their relationship. He smiled at Vega and resumed walking towards the table.

"Well, I guess that cat's finally out of the bag," he said, setting a cup of icy, sparkling water in front of Vega. He started to sit down opposite her, then moved around to take the seat vacated by Cho. "It's about time, too," he added in a loud whisper, leaning conspiratorially towards Vega.

She was beginning to wonder if perhaps the ride home with Cho might have been more comfortable. They weren't riding in uncomfortable silence. Far from it, in fact. Wylie was keeping up a non-stop stream of commentary that Vega easily recognized for the nervousness it was. Part of her was gratified to know that he was just as nervous about the turn in their relationship as she was.

Her discomfort was largely internal. She had only herself to blame, though, given that she'd started this mess in a sudden wild impulse. Left to his own devices she doubted that Jason Wylie would ever make a move - especially after her little speech about concentrating on her career. Now she was conducting an inner battle between that crazy person who had asked a colleague to dance and the regimented military brat who knew she needed to stop this madness now before it went beyond a point where she would truly hurt the young man who was driving her home. No matter how she said it at this point, it was still the classic "Let's be friends" speech and the truly sad part about it was that they never would be.

Jason would agree, of course. But he would likely never set up dueling game consoles in the conference room again, or share a friendly lunch with her at the hot dog cart that appeared daily outside the doors of the Federal Building. Their field assignments would be completed with total professionalism; and the only conversation to break the silence would be directly related to whatever case they were working.

It was just possible, of course, that she was being a tad pessimistic about the chances they could regain their friendly footing. But right now, pessimism was all she was capable of.

"My dad's actually of English ancestry, and originally from Boston. I think he's always been sort of a stranger in a strange land, since we lived a lot closer to mom's family. Mom is Norwegian and her grandfather came over on the boat. He's like ninety years old now but he still makes this stuff every year and we're all expected to eat it. I don't think he really expects us to like it any more, but we all have to eat it."

Wylie turned briefly and grinned at her. Michelle smiled back, since he apparently thought the story he was telling was amusing. She was ashamed to realize she had been so self-absorbed that she had no idea what he was talking about. It was rude, and she expected better of herself. She shoved her dismal thoughts into a back corner of her mind and determined to enjoy these last few moments until she was forced to lower the boom.

"They have big festivals dedicated to the stuff, and a lot of the older folks claim they really like it. I just eat my one bite every Christmas - " he paused a moment, " - when I can make it back home for the holidays," he continued wistfully. "It makes Fafa happy."

"You call your grandfather Fafa?" she asked, intrigued at the odd name.

He turned again to smile at her briefly, his eyes pulled from the roadway for only a second. He seemed pleased that she was actively participating in the conversation. The reaction made her doubly guilty for having zoned out and also for what she was about to do to him - to them.

"He's my great-grandfather. It comes from Norwegian - Farfar really. But none of the great-grandkids know any Norwegian beyond a couple of words, so it got shortened to Fafa. My mom's parents are just plain Grandma and Grandpa. What do you call your grandparents?"

They were pulling into the parking lot of her apartment complex. The lamp over the breezeway entrance to her building was flickering.

"I never really knew my grandparents. My dad and mom came here from Cuba in 1980, as part of the "boat people". They actually met on the boat. Dad joined the military in order to secure citizenship. My grandparents wrote letters and such while I was growing up - but they seemed almost mythical to me."

"Wow," Wylie pulled the car into a parking spot and set the brake, leaving the engine running.

She didn't feel right doing this in the car. They both spoke at once.

"Would you like to come in?"

"That's really sad."

Jason's eyes grew wide, reminding her of when she'd asked him to dance earlier. Part of her hoped he would turn her down. She could justify delaying the inevitable if he said it was late and he needed to get home.

"Sure, I'd like that," he said.

He turned the key, cutting the engine, then unbuckled his seat-belt and opened his door. Vega leaned back into her own seat for just a second and took a deep breath before unbuckling her own belt and climbing out on her side. When she reached the sidewalk, he was waiting patiently for her. As they walked, she busied herself with getting her keys out of her jacket pocket and flipping through them to find the door key. When they passed beneath the flickering lamp, she looked up and frowned.

"Yea, you should probably report that to the management in the morning," Wylie said.

"I reported it three days ago," she said, scowling. She led the way to her apartment door. It was deep red, with a brass letter "B" centered near the top. The walls around it were a beige stucco and there was a small potted palm tree placed dead center between her door and the door to apartment "A". As usual when she was on a case, the poor thing was looking pretty sad. It actually belonged to her neighbor, but if she didn't water it occasionally, it suffered from his neglect. She was about to insert her key in the lock when a light touch on her arm stopped her.

"Ve...Michelle..."

She paused a moment, but then turned the key and pushed the door open. She looked up at Wylie before walking in, waiting for him to continue.

"I just..." he stumbled, "I wondered..." He seemed to gather himself together, then launched again.

"Why are you inviting me in?" he asked, hope and excitement and no small amount of nervousness coloring his face.

"I thought..." she began, and watched his face fall as she continued, "I thought we should talk - before anything goes too far."

She walked through the door and held it open for him, dropping her keys into a bowl on a bookcase that flanked the entrance.

"Vega," she heard Wylie speaking behind her as she walked further into the room, "we danced and we had a good time. We don't have to make anything of it. I know you want to focus on work right now." He was speeding up again, words tumbling out of him like dice at a casino. "I told you I want the same thing and that wasn't completely true, but I'm just as anxious to become a good FBI agent..."

Vega thought about Abbott and his wife, Lena. They were obviously deeply in love, and had managed to stay together for over ten years despite his career. FBI agents often had problems maintaining relationships with people outside the bureau. There were so many things that an outsider couldn't be told and wouldn't understand. And that's often what FBI spouses felt like - outsiders.

On the other hand, maintaining a relationship with another agent was just as difficult. She thought of Jane and Lisbon. It wasn't quite the same, since Jane was a consultant. She didn't know much about their history, but she knew they'd worked closely together for years on the case of a serial killer who killed Jane's wife and child. She also knew that the change in their relationship, which they'd more-or-less gone public with tonight, was a very recent development. Yet it was obvious to anyone that they loved each other profoundly, and had been in love for a long time whether or not they realized or acknowledged it. She also suspected they had run into some problems related to the job, although they seemed to be working it out. Of course they were older, their careers more solid. Plus, Jane's reputation for closing cases – as well as Lisbon's reputation for handling Jane - was likely to mitigate any fallout from the upper echelons regarding their personal relationship. She thought about what Jane said. It really wasn't against the rules.

She wondered briefly about Cho. Had he ever had a significant relationship with another human being? She imagined it was doubtful. Surely if he had, though, it would have been with someone completely disconnected from job. Cho would never skirt the rules, of that she was sure. He'd seemed fairly accepting of Jane and Lisbon, though, so maybe he'd be cool if she and Wylie…

"…I just don't want you to think that anything has to change…unless…unless you…"

"Oh crap!" she exclaimed. Pivoting around she found herself standing less than two feet from him. She looked up into a face that was apparently stunned at her uncharacteristic use of mild profanity. The deep blue-green eyes were wide and she found herself looking up further and wondering what his thick, almost white-blond hair felt like. Before she knew it, impulsive Michelle took over again. She took a step forward, placed a hand on each of his shoulders and stood on tip-toe. It was a stretch, and she nearly had to pull his head down a couple of inches, but she was able to touch her lips lightly to his.

She felt his arms suddenly jerk up, and opening her eyes to peek, she saw that his eyes became impossibly wider. She nearly expected him to pull away, but after a second, she felt his hands lightly touch her waist and then he was wrapping his arms around her and bending down to deepen the kiss. Thankfully, she lowered her heels to allow her to stand more comfortably. She was much more able to enjoy the kiss this way. She briefly wondered if the difference in their heights would eventually cause one or both of them to develop back problems. The thought nearly made her giggle, but she focused her attention back on the task at hand and decided the young man still hadn't quite gotten the full message. She gently opened her lips, and swept her tongue over his. That he understood, and answered with a brief swipe of his own. After another moment or two, he pulled away, but kept his arms around her as one hand lightly stroked the hollow at the base of her back. He smiled, and she realized again that his dazzling grin could light up her world.

"Good talk," she said.

Author's Note: I wrote a good part of this in the middle of the night. I got inspired and just couldn't sleep. I hope that part is not too obvious. I also added quite a bit of back-story for these two. I hope it's at least plausible with what little we canon information we have.

01/31/2015