Warning: This is set during episode 4.10 'Fugue in Red', an episode that has not yet aired on television. If you never read the synopsis and wish to keep it a surprise, I suggest reading this after December 15th. Other than the synopsis, there are no actual spoilers in this story.

Author's Note: For all of you who are waiting for the next chapter of Lunacy, I apologise for the monstrous wait. I've been struck with bad luck so often, but expect new chapters very soon. Thank you for your patience, I love you all!

This is my first attempt at a somewhat romantic fanfiction. I never stray off the path of suspense/thriller usually.

Reviewing is candy to me. Be sweet, be nice, take a second to let me know what you think! This is a standalone story, no sequel will be written.

You and I
By Tania

Teresa was sitting alone in her living room, her legs comfortably tucked in beneath her, and drinking warm tea. Outside, the Californian streets were being assaulted by pouring rain and gushing wind. The city had been under this kind of weather since midday, inevitably causing the temperatures to drop radically. Despite the turbulent atmospheric conditions, Teresa was lost deep in her thoughts. Every once in awhile, the blanket covering her shoulders would slip, exposing her skin to the cool ambient air. She would involuntarily shiver and subconsciously pull the blanket back to her neck.

The last couple of days had undoubtedly been the most challenging to date. All week, she found herself sitting in her favourite spot on her couch, tea in hand, and thinking of Patrick Jane. The name automatically sparked the image of him partially submerged in that small body of water, his face pale and grey, his skin surreally illuminated by the moon. Since then, a ball of anxiety had permanently lodged itself in her stomach. His heart had stopped beating that night, even only for a few seconds, but the reanimation procedures seemed to have lasted a lifetime. She had faithfully remained by his side, her damp clothes clinging to her skin just as desperately as she begged God to save him.

God may or may not have a part in this, but Patrick was saved that night, but not the way Teresa had hoped. Handling Patrick had always been a difficult task, but dealing with an amnesiac Jane has proven to be completely impossible. Despite sharing the same physical traits, this person was nothing like the man she knew. With no recollection of who he was, Patrick's only memories were of his old days as a charlatan. Scamming people and flirting with women was all he ever did, and much to her utter disgust, it worked every time.

It particularly worked this afternoon, when Patrick arrived at the CBI with a young woman clutched to his arm. Wearing a very tight and provocative dress, Patrick's newly found companion had nothing more to provide to conversations other than smiling and the overuse of giggles.

"Pathetic," Teresa whispered, raising her tea cup to her lips for a small sip.

As pathetic as she may have been, they still left together, whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears. Her high-pitched laughter still reverberated in her head.

The knot in her stomach tightened, and suddenly she didn't feel like drinking tea anymore. Abruptly putting down the little cup in its saucer on the table, she sprang to her feel like her couch was on fire.

Why was all this affecting her so much? She spent years complaining about Patrick's nonconformist behaviour. His arrogance and lack of respect had taken its toll on her, making it hard for them to see eye to eye on certain issues. Regardless of it all, she missed him terribly. She would never dare share this with anyone, finding it hard admitting it even to herself. Teresa couldn't hide this fact no longer and for some reason, acknowledging this feeling seemed to reduce her anxiety and alleviate the knot in her stomach.

Teresa snapped out of her daydreaming, wondering why she was standing in the kitchen. Taking a peek at the digital clock on the oven, she realised it was slightly past dinnertime. Her rumbling stomach confirmed that.

Pushing all thoughts of Patrick out of her mind, she opened the refrigerator door only to find herself staring at empty shelves. Having been so busy lately, she spent the last few days ordering take-out or stopping by fast-food restaurants on her way home at night. Other than orange juice, strawberry jam, an old peanut butter jar she meant to throw away days ago, and Chinese leftovers from a few nights ago, there was nothing in there that could satisfy her hunger.

After a split second of promising herself this was going to be for the last time, she headed for the living room and pulled out a few pamphlets from a drawer in her desk. What was it going to be this time, Chinese again? Lebanese? Perhaps some pizza, an extra large one, so she could finish the rest of the week with the leftovers?

"Now who's being pathetic?" Teresa spoke out loud, pulling back one of her kitchen chairs to sit. Staring at the local pizzeria pamphlet, she absentmindedly brushed the dial keys on her home phone with her thumb. All thoughts about food had escaped her head and Teresa found herself wondering what Patrick was doing with his red saran-wrapped woman. Who wore dresses like that on their first date these days? It was absurd.

A bell interrupted her thoughts and Teresa found herself blushing unexpectedly, as if she was caught doing something bad. The bell rang again and she realised it was the doorbell. Quickly, she rose from her chair and unlocked the door, opening it ajar to see who it was.

Outside, stood a very wet Patrick Jane, a neutral expression on his face.

"Jan-I mean, Patrick? What are you doing here?"

"May I come in?"

Her cheeks flustered in a slightly darker shade of red, but she was able to hide this by stepping aside, allowing him entrance.

"Where's your girlfriend?" she asked, suddenly feeling a pang of sadness hit her heart. Mentally chastising herself, she closed the door quickly before he had a chance to formulate a reply.

"Probably still at the restaurant," he answered, his voice low and toneless.

Teresa frowned but said nothing at first. Could he have remembered something? The new Jane had been so flamboyant and free-spirited, a contrast to how he acted right now. Perhaps he did remember something. His family perhaps?

It took her a minute to come back with a large towel, and handed it over to him. At first unresponsive, he reluctantly took it from her but made no attempt to dry his hair, face, or clothes.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her worry increasing a notch. "Do you need me to take you to the hospital? Do you remember anything?"

The only response she received, was a slight shrug of his shoulders. His eyes were riveted to the ground, staring blankly at the tiles as if in a trance.

"Jane, say something," Teresa spoke with more authority, her voice harder and louder. When there was again no response, she sighed and walked to living room closet to get her coat. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

Putting on her coat, she grabbed her car keys and cell phone from the desk in the entrance. Just as she was turning the doorknob, he finally spoke.

"I don't remember anything," he told her. Startled, her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. She turned to see him looking at her, an undecipherable look in his eyes. "I still don't remember you."

Teresa swallowed the lump that had taken place in her throat, and attempted to give him a reassuring smile to cover her obvious deception.

"Okay, so what's going on? Did you really leave your girlfriend at the restaurant?" Somehow, for some reason, she knew this new Jane was quite capable of doing such thing. She sought comfort at the idea that the Jane she knew, would never have done something like this. Overwhelmed with a feeling of contentment, Teresa allowed herself to smile in her head.

"There's nothing appealing about this woman other than her body. She has commitment issues, an horrible laughter, and an alarming addiction to garlic," he answered flatly, his fingers playing with the edge of the towel Teresa had previously brought for him.

"I don't understand," Teresa sighed. "Why are you here? I told you to call me if you remembered anything. Not to share details of your date going South."

Teresa hadn't meant for her last words to come out as bluntly as they did, and the aftermath of her outburst was apparent in Patrick's eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," she apologised, taking off her coat. "Do you want tea?"

"I don't-"

"Right, I'm sorry. You don't drink tea," she interrupted quickly, mentally slapping herself for forgetting every time. "Coffee then?"

"Please."

Walking past him, Teresa stopped and turned to look at him. "You should take a few layers of your clothes off, before catching a cold. I'll put them in the dryer for you."

"Okay," he agreed, but remained still.

Teresa gave him a pointed look. "I'm not going to undress you, Jane."

As soon as the words were spoken, she was struck by a feeling of mortification. He stared at her with an intense gaze, making her more uncomfortable. She was oblivious of what was going on inside his head, but hers was immediately bombarded with their first interaction at the hospital, after regaining consciousness for the first time after his near death experience. The words, 'Are we sleeping together?' haunted her even to this day. Teresa felt a faint burning sensation on her cheeks, and knew they were changing colors.

"I'll go make some tea," she mumbled, and quickly corrected herself, "I mean coffee! I'll make coffee."

Leaving Patrick behind, Teresa quickened her footsteps to the kitchen to prepare coffee. She cussed at herself for acting so immaturely. What was she doing? Sitting in her living room was her friend, who, despite being a charlatan disguised as a popular and adored psychic, was lost, confused and probably scared out of his mind. Yet, here she was, blushing like a school girl at the memory of his first intimate question about them. Taking in a deep breath, she poured water in the coffee machine and added a few tablespoons of coffee, before switching it on. The machine crackled several times before the brewing process commenced. Lingering for a few seconds more to gather herself, she turned and immediately bumped into Patrick.

"God!" she gasped, her hand clutching her heart in surprise. "What the Hell, Jane?"

"I wish you'd stop calling me that," Patrick replied, and pointed at the clothes in his hands. Teresa slowly looked down to see him wearing a plain, dark grey T-shirt, something she's never seen him wear before. She found it quite appealing.

Teresa was struck by flustered cheeks once more. Patrick frowned and looked down at the pile in his hands.

"Something wrong?"

"No, not at all. Here, I'll put them in the dryer," she replied, her voice abnormally cheery. She lost count of the number of times she put her foot in her mouth since his arrival, and hoped if Patrick ever fully recovered his memory, he would never remember this conversation.

While Teresa was gone with his clothes, Patrick roamed her apartment, drying his hair with the towel. He looked at everything, hoping some little detail would spark something from his forgotten life. Her apartment smelled fresh with a tinge of mango. His eyes fell on her now cool tea, resting on the coffee table. He crinkled his nose, wondering how someone could possibly be able to drink this kind of beverage.

Resuming his walk, he approached the shelves on the wall and was hit by curiosity when he spotted a few picture frames. Of course, no one on them looked familiar to him. None of these people were even at the CBI. Smiling men and women, sometimes including children, were photographed in various poses.

"These are my brothers with their families."

Expecting to have startled him, Patrick turned to look at her, unsurprised by her sudden entrance. Teresa smiled briefly and walked over to the couch, inviting him to do the same. He complied and took a seat on the opposite far end.

"Everything feels strange," he admitted, folding the towel and putting it on the coffee table. The gesture didn't go unnoticed by Teresa. Somehow, the Patrick Jane that was sitting in her living room was not entirely the same as the con artist she had grown to adjust herself to for the last few days. He hadn't once acted arrogant or snobbish since coming into her home. She found that relieving.

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone claims to know me so well," he started, glancing over to look at her. "but there's nothing anyone tells me that makes sense. When Bigsby mentioned I owned a Citroën, my first reaction was to laugh. How could I possibly own a piece of metal from the scrap yard?"

Teresa suppressed a chuckle, wishing she had been able to record that small confession. How she hated that car and couldn't understand Patrick's fascination with it. Yet, here it was, parked in her backyard, waiting for its rightful owner to come back and bring her home.

She was really starting to lose it.

"So, why are you here?" she asked, redirecting the conversation.

Sighing, Patrick shifted in his seat in order to fully face her. "What I told you before, about not remembering anything, that's entirely true. I see you and I have no God damned clue of who you are."

It was Teresa's turn to shift uncomfortably in her seat. His raw admission brought her back to face reality, that even though she knew who this man was, she was but a stranger to him.

"The doctor said it could take some time to-"

"I feel something," he cut her off. "I can't explain it, but I feel like I'm connected to you in some way. It's a familiar feeling I have only with you, and I think you might be the only person able to help me remember who I am."

"We were specifically told not to interfere-"

"I'm asking you to," he interrupted her again, almost pleading.

Teresa sighed.

"I can't do this," she murmured. "I'm sorry."

"Why not?"

"You've had such a hard life. It has to come to you naturally, if it ever comes at all. I can't force memories inside your head."

"What was so hard about it, that everyone vowed to keep this a secret?"

"Despite being the arrogant pain in the ass that you are now, you're happy. I haven't seen you enjoying yourself this much since... ever. Of course, I'm not including the psychic scams you've been pulling off, that will have to come to an end eventually."

"If I'm so happy, why do I feel so sad?"

Unprepared for this kind of conversation, Teresa rose quickly from her seat and waved at the kitchen. "I forgot about your coffee."

"Forget the coffee," he replied, standing as well. His proximity made the knot in her stomach threatening to explode.

"I told you, I can't tell you anything about this part of your life." She managed to say with a neutral and evened voice.

"Okay, tell me about us, then."

If Teresa felt her cheeks tingle earlier, now she felt the opposite. She froze, all colors draining from her face. She hadn't expected this kind of questioning at all.

"There's nothing...," she started to say, but her voice faded in a whisper.

"I know there isn't," he said quickly. "Otherwise, I would have seen pictures of us on your shelves. Right?"

"So, why are you asking?"

"I told you, I don't remember you," he recapitulated, his eyes boring into hers. "But what I feel for you, isn't fabricated. I flirt with women, I love women, but this... feeling, isn't who I am. I don't get attached like this, with anyone."

"This is ridiculous," Teresa said, forcing a laugh, hoping to decrease the tension in the air. "Nothing ever happened between us. I don't know why you would even think it would be possible-"

"I know you feel the same, Teresa. I can see it in your eyes, in your body language. No, I'm not a psychic, but I take pride in my exceptional ability to read people. You must know that. You're my only bridge that connects who I am now, to the person known by everyone today. I need you to help me remember."

Teresa was at a loss for words and the growing feeling of panic was threatening to burst at any moment. Swallowing nervously, she took a step back and cleared her throat.

"This is going way out of line," she muttered. "I'm your boss!"

"No, you're not," Patrick's lips curled into a faint smile. "I told you, police work isn't my thing."

"But it is," she insisted. "You may not have liked it in the beginning, but you've grown to enjoy it more over the years. Among other reasons."

"I have a hard time imagining myself doing this and enjoying myself," he admitted. "I think there may have been a part of me staying only to be with you."

Teresa felt her head was seconds away from spontaneously combusting. Feeling hot, sweaty, extremely nervous and out of her comfort zone, she needed a drink. Turning around, she rapidly headed for the kitchen. Alcoholic beverages had no place in her home, so coffee was the only thing strong enough and in proximity other than tea and water. She desperately needed to go grocery shopping.

"I made you uncomfortable."

It was Teresa's turn to expect his present behind her, saving her from a second heart attack. Patrick was not the kind of person to let things go easily. She was still firmly grounded in a war zone, with no means of escape. Slowly, Teresa turned around, a mug of hot coffee burning in her hands.

"No, I just," she trailed off, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't know what to tell you, Patrick. You're probably feeling many emotions right now, so it must be hard to sort them out accordingly."

Patrick took a step back, his features hardening slightly. Teresa knew she had struck a nerve. Dealing with Patrick right now was the hardest thing she had ever done. She spent so many hours working alongside with him, that never in a million years had she expected him to unveil himself like this. Patrick Jane was a locked safe, the key long lost at sea. Rare were the occasion where he revealed the core of his feelings. Extremely rare.

"You think I'm wrong?" he asked. "You think all I said back there is a fabrication of my imagination?"

Teresa felt extremely nervous again, but not for the same reasons. This time, she secretly wished he'd pursue what he was telling her in the living room. Having him so close to her made her lose her mind. She was playing with fire and she knew it.

"I... I think so," she managed to formulate, keeping a steady focus on his eyes. For a split second, she wondered if he had hypnotized her. She felt frozen in time, her heart pondering wildly in her chest.

Staring at him like that made her realise how badly she missed him. Missed their banters, their jokes, their time spent together. She missed the way he looked at her, smiled at her. She missed seeing him on her couch, in her office, drinking his tea and babbling about anything.

Overwhelmed by a feeling yet unknown to her, she clumsily slid the coffee mug on the counter, leaving a trail of splashed coffee in its wake. She encircled her arms around Patrick's neck and crushed his lips with her own.

Not in a million years had Teresa expected herself to be able to make such a bold move. On Patrick Jane, no less. She really must have lost her mind.

Slowly, Teresa parted with Patrick, a million things running through her head. He hadn't moved an inch, obviously unprepared for this sudden kiss. Teresa was slowly beginning to regret this ever happening. He hadn't recovered his memory yet, and here she was putting ideas in his head.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," she hastily apologised. She desperately needed to put some distance between them, but he remained perfectly still. His intense gaze made her wish she could disappear. What in God's name had possessed her?

"So, stupid," she muttered.

"Tommy."

Teresa frowned, raising her eyes to look at him once more. "What did you say?"

"Tommy, your brother. His name is Tommy. His daughter is Annabeth, but she only wants to be called Annie."

Shocked, Teresa nodded. "Yes...""

"I remember," he admitted, smiling. "Your second brother is James, and-"

"Wait!" she interjected quickly. "You remember my brothers?"

"And your niece," he replied, his smile widening.

"And my niece," she repeated is disbelief. The fact he remembered her brothers before anyone else rendered her speechless. "Do you... remember anything else?"

"Bigsby? I think his name's actually Rigsby. I'm not sure, both names sounds equally bizarre."

"Oh, my God," she said out loud. "You remember everything?"

"I think Tin Man's real name rhymes with... Chou? And Van Helsing is actually Van Pelt. Grace Van Pelt. That's all I can remember at the moment."

Teresa attempted to walk around him, desperately needing fresh air, but he got a hold of her forearm before she could get very far.

"I lied!" he confessed, holding her back gently. "I remember you."

Teresa's cheeks turned pink, despite her attempt at staying casual. Who was she kidding? She just kissed this man a few seconds ago, and here she was trying to act casual? She needed to scream. Needed to let the panic inside of her out. Immediately.

"I think you should leave," she blurted out, avoiding his eyes.

"What if I don't want to," he challenged, but relinquished his hold on her wrist.

Standing still, Teresa looked back into his eyes and took in a deep breath. "Eventually, you'll remember everything. It won't be pretty and you won't be ready for this."

Glancing down at the ring on his finger, Patrick nodded. "I know something bad happened, and even though I don't remember any of it yet, I remember you being there for me. I don't need to remember the past to know where I want to be right now, or tomorrow."

"Actually, you kind of have t-" Her words were immediately muffled by his lips. Patrick closed the remaining distance separating them, burying his fingers in her hair, and tilting her head slightly to deepen the kiss. It didn't take long for Teresa to lose herself in his embrace.

Eventually, they parted, both breathing heavily. He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

"What are you thinking?" Teresa breathed, and swallowed nervously.

"I remember a fluffy white dog. I think his name was LaRoche."

The End - Hope everyone enjoys this episode when it airs! I personally can't wait (: