AN: I just couldn't get this little story out of my mind, so here we go. It starts right after Blue Bird when Jane and Lisbon are still in Miami, and it traces their first two weeks together as a couple. Part II will be posted soon, but until then, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.

i

She opens her eyes, and suddenly her senses are on overload.

The sliding door leading out to the seaside balcony is open, and a gull squawks loudly somewhere in the distance. As the waves break, Lisbon breathes in, smelling salt, and she takes in the small hotel room. It's now bathed in a light pink glow from the setting sun, and a slight breeze cools her skin.

She shivers involuntarily.

Her world has shifted so much in a few short hours; only that morning, she'd anxiously been looking through the glass at Jane as he sat in a holding cell, looking dejected but at peace, his twisted ankle propped up beside him.

Suddenly, a warm, muscular arm wraps around her torso, and the chill disappears. Lisbon smiles and rolls over onto her back.

The emotion on Jane's face floors her. It's so very different from the mask she's used to him wearing.

"You're here," he says weakly, and she props herself up on one elbow.

She leans down to kiss him, placing her other hand on his chest to steady herself. "Did you think I'd run away after what happened this morning?"

His eyes rove over her face, and she knows he is cataloguing her features in the pink sunlight so he can revisit this moment in his memory palace. "I just can't believe this is real."

"I know," she says, and she can't help but smile again. "I can't remember ever feeling so happy."

His eyes brighten. "Yeah?"

She nods. "Yeah."

She rests her head on his chest, and his arms shift around her. "I love you, Lisbon," he whispers.

She smiles. "Now that you've said it once, you're never going to stop, are you?" she asks.

His grin is all the answer she needs.

ii

For the first time that she can remember, Lisbon isn't upset when her layover is extended.

A new plane is requested to replace one in need of maintenance, and Jane suggests they explore the airport while they wait. She's hardly aware of what city they're in—but she is very aware of Jane's hand in hers as they walk through the terminal. Jane cold reads some of the harried-looking travelers who pass them, and she's sure he's exaggerating or making up most of the stories, but she cannot stop the laughter that bubbles up and spills out of her. He looks delighted at the sound.

When their flight finally takes off, she falls asleep on his shoulder.

iii

A lucky mistake at the shipping company means half her things remain in Austin, and they spend their third day together moving her back into her home.

It's touching and therapeutic in a sense, she thinks, because it feels like Jane is helping her create a home here. It's the little things—he finds the coffee mugs and tea cups and places them in the cupboard above the sink, and she's sure now he knows her kitchen better than she does.

Her mattress, bed frame, and linens are halfway across the country, however. Lisbon considers this a blessing in disguise—though Jane likely would not have complained, she would have worried about him being uncomfortable sleeping in bed that Marcus had so recently vacated. Instead, Lisbon takes Jane along on a quick run into town, picking up a mattress and box spring.

The bed frame won't be delivered until the next day, but they sleep on the mattress anyway, marking the mostly-empty house as theirs.

iv

Jane finds the shell he sent her from South America as they continue to unpack.

He gives her a curious look. "You kept this?"

"Of course," she says, walking over to him and taking the shell from his hand. She examines it closely, remembering how its mere presence on her desk had gotten her through some of the more dreary days in Washington. "I didn't think I'd get to see you again," she adds. "I kept everything you sent me."

He tries to respond several times but can't quite get the words out.

"Maybe you can take me there sometime," Lisbon continues. "I'd love to see your island paradise."

He pulls her close and finds his voice again, whispering in her ear, "My paradise is wherever you are."

v

"When did you know?"

He's standing at the stove, his shirtsleeves rolled up as he cooks them breakfast. "Hmm?" he asks absentmindedly, glancing at her over his shoulder.

Lisbon leans against the counter. "When did you know you loved me?"

Jane moves the eggs off the burner and turns toward her.

"Before you knew you loved me," he admits softly, and she gapes at him.

"Yeah, right," she says, rolling her eyes. She can't remember a time she wasn't in love with him.

He steps toward her. "You knew after Vegas, right?" he asks. "You couldn't understand why you were so hurt at everything I'd done—after all, we hadn't made any promises to each other. That's how you figured out how you felt."

He reaches out for her to soften the sting of these words—she doesn't think she'll ever be able to talk about his sixth months in Vegas without feeling like a part of her soul has died. She takes his hand and nods. He's right, of course.

He nearly always is.

"So when did you know?" she asks.

"When I saw you with a bomb strapped to your chest."

She feels his pulse quicken underneath her fingertips as he explains.

"I moved toward you," he says. "Not away. It didn't ever occur to me to leave you—if you were going to die, so was I."

"Jane," she says in a scolding tone. "Promise me you won't think that way anymore. Please."

He shakes his head. "I told myself I'd stop lying to you, Lisbon—and I can't make that promise without lying."

"Jane," she pleads.

He sighs. "I'll try, Lisbon. I promise to try."

She wraps her arms around him. "Thank you," she breathes.

vi

She has a moment of panic after returning from the grocery store one afternoon.

"Are we dating?" she asks him, holding a package of frozen vegetables in one hand, as he wanders into the kitchen to help her unpack.

She simultaneously needs to know his answer and is terrified of what it will be.

He freezes, looking suddenly unsure. "I thought that went without saying."

The chill from the vegetables seeps into her bones. "I need to hear you say it."

He grabs the package from her hand and tosses it in the freezer. He turns to her. "I would very much like to date you, Teresa Lisbon," he says. "Would it be alright if I think of myself as your boyfriend?"

She grins at him. He always knows exactly what to say—asking to be her boyfriend is somehow less threatening to Lisbon than if he'd asked her to be his girlfriend.

She kisses him in response.

vii

The first time they make love, he is so tentative, so gentle, that she falls for him all over again. Their fingers interlace above her head, and he watches her intently, taking note of every facial expression, every gasp, every moan.

Limbs entangle, bodies align, and two very broken people begin to become whole again.