AN: Please brace yourselves and give this a chance! I've only written it because it'd never, never happen on the show. Our ship is sailing home safe my friends! This made me so sad to write, and it's the longest fic I've ever written. I sincerely hope you enjoy, please let me know what you thought of it! Thanks to Idan & Nerwen Aldarion advice on getting this up despite technical glitches!

"Marry me," he says.

He's looking up at her from behind a diamond ring, eyes filled with earnest hope but all she can think of is how lonely Jane must be, sitting on his couch, watching her go, waiting for tomorrow when he will see her again. Watching, waiting; alone.

But looking in Marcus' eyes she knows he could love her, really love her, for the rest of her life. And that's all she wants. She might have wanted Jane before, but it's not Jane that she wants now. There might have been a time when she thought only Jane could make her happy. But she doesn't want Jane, she wants someone to love her, someone to be by her side, and lately, he hasn't been that. And Marcus has. Twelve years she's spent, waiting on Patrick Jane: she's not old, and that's a huge chunk of her adult life, and she's ready to let go.

Marcus is not a consolation prize if she's choosing him, and this would be her choosing him. Choosing to move on with her life, choosing to do something she wants for a change, not just something she's willing to go along with. Choosing a future. Choosing a life.

"Yes," she whispers, and he does not see the fear in her eyes.

The next few moments are a blur of strained cheeks from a smile she can't be sure she feels and pats on the back and lots of beaming faces she doesn't know. But then she sees Marcus through their faces and he looks so happy, smiling at her, loving her, and, forgetting about Jane and how she's lost to him now, she feels happy too.

She doesn't plan on telling them right then, but they are the two most important people to her here, and they get so little time together as a three anymore that on that morning when she finds herself alone with them, she finds herself considering telling them her news. She can feel herself changing her mind, so she's almost glad when Jane brings the subject up.

"How's Marcus?" he asks. "How's things with that?"

"Good," she says. "Actually," she breathes in and she sees Jane look at her quickly. "I have something to say." She can see the panic visible in Jane's eyes.

"We're getting married," she says quickly, quietly.

Jane's mouth falls open, Cho raises his eyebrows, but they both quickly cover their surprise.

"That's great," Jane lies. "Wonderful," he says as he comes to her. He places his hands on her arms and draws her to him, pressing a light kiss to her cheek; the first time he's ever done so, she thinks bitterly. He walks away then a little too quickly. Her eyes follows the solitary figure as he walks away.

"Congratulations, Boss," Cho says, and she snaps back to reality. He's looking at her like he knows something, as though he knows a little too much. She gives him a small smile and knows he can probably see through it. He pats her shoulder as he walks out and suddenly she's alone and a little underwhelmed at their response, and it occurs to her that this is really happening because now she's said it aloud and told them and there's no turning back.

Not that she'd want to.

She loves Marcus. She does.

Marcus heads out to Washington a week before her, to set up their new home. When the time comes, it's Cho who says he'll give her a lift to the airport. She doesn't say no. He collects her from her house and together they drive to the FBI. She'd planned to say her goodbyes last night, but had chickened out.

"Lisbon," Fischer had called. She could see the approaching hug. She could see Jane behind her, stretched out on the sofa as if he didn't have a care in the world. She could feel her throat choking up.

"Tomorrow," she had called, signalling, already walking out the door. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"Alright..." she could hear Fischer's voice, surprised, amused, trailing off as she made her escape.

She had thought Jane might call that night, and so she leaves the outside light on, until she thinks of Marcus waiting for her in Washington, and, feeling guilty, she turns it off.

The next morning Cho helps her lift her suitcase into his car. The rest of her belongings have been sent on ahead. Marcus will be there to reach them the other side.

Their drive to the FBI is quiet.

"I think this will be good for you," Cho says suddenly.

"Y'think?" Lisbon asks. She trusts his opinion implicitly.

"You're happy with Pike?"

She nods, smiling. "I am."

"There you go," Cho says.

She looks out the window. She will miss Texas, like she misses Washington state, like she misses Sacramento – and oh, how she misses Sacramento. But she will fall for her new Washington, will make it her home, will be happy there.

"I'm going to miss you, Lisbon," Cho says, as they near the FBI.

She can feel tears welling up unexpectedly. It means so much from him. She places her hand gently over his where it rests on the gearstick.

"Oh, Kimball," she says. "It's been my pleasure. You've been the finest I've ever had the privilege of working with."

"And you," he says. "You made it what it was, Boss," he says, flicking up the indicator and pulling into the FBI parking lot.

She doesn't bother correcting him as he parks the car. They both know she will always be his Boss. She blinks back tears as he kills the engine and he turns in his seat to look at her.

"Best of luck, Lisbon," he says and she reaches over quickly and tightly hugs him. She can feel his arms on her back and knows it is not conceited to know he will miss her a lot. She is one of the last links to the CBI, and in a matter of hours she too will be gone. Scattered.

"Ready?" he asks her, pulling back, and she nods.

Inside feels surreal. Abbott gives her a warm handshake and thanks her for her service, wishes her all the best. Wylie stumbles through a grand farewell. A couple of Marcus' colleagues come down to wish her good luck. Fischer gives her a warm hug and promises to stay in touch. Lisbon vehemently agrees. She's grown to like Fischer, value her friendship.

"It's time, Lisbon," Cho is saying, all too soon.

Lisbon turns to his sofa, from where Jane has been watching the day's farewells without a word.

"I, uh- Lisbon, I'm sorry, I have to go, duty calls," Fischer is saying. "Be sure and text when you land. Talk soon."

She is gone.

"I'll wait downstairs," Cho says quietly. "Good luck."

He is gone now too.

They are alone.

"Jane."

She walks over to him.

"Lisbon."

She sits beside him.

"This is it," she says quietly.

"So it would seem," he says.

He takes her hand and holds it. She knows he must be able to feel the hard stone of his engagement ring pressing into his hand.

"Well I wish you the best, Lisbon. Thank you for everything."

She jerks her head slightly to look at him.

"That's it?" she asks, before she can stop herself.

He looks at her. "What do you mean, Lisbon? Looking for a reason to stay, are we?"

She frowns.

"No, Jane. Never."

"Well you know how I feel about you, Lisbon. But I hope you're happy. Agent Pike is a good man."

She blinks.

"Sorry, Jane, what?"

"Oh please, Lisbon, as if you didn't know. Of course I've loved you; after everything you've done for me: I never had a chance."

She shakes her head.

"No. You're saying this to make me stay. You're jealous and you don't want me to go. It's another game. I'm sorry, Jane, but I don't have time for this."

She stands up.

"It's the truth, Teresa. But I understand."

"I've made my choice, Jane."

"I know."

"I have to go."

"I know."

"Goodbye, Patrick."

He stands too, and takes her into his embrace.

"Farwell, Teresa."

She pulls away and walks out.

Cho doesn't say anything when she starts to cry in the car, bitter, bitter tears. She swipes at them angrily, brushing them off her cheeks till her palms are soaked. She rubs them in her jeans, trying desperately to remove the evidence of her sorrow.

"Hey," Cho says.

She looks at him, eyes puffy, nose red.

"You're doing the right thing."

She tightens her mouth, stares straight ahead, determined.

"I know."

At the airport, Cho stays with her until he can no longer. They both know a flash of his badge would let him through, but there's no sense in putting off their last goodbye any longer.

"You'll come to my wedding?" she asks, still teary.

"Of course, he says.

She smiles.

"Who else would make sure Jane doesn't try and interrupt it," he finishes.

A laugh escapes her despite her tears.

Leaving Sacramento had been different, it had been forced. Moving to Washington was her leaving it all behind, something she hadn't done since the day she'd left Chicago.

She gives Cho a quick hug, a kiss on the cheek, and then he too is gone.

They all come to her wedding, true to their word.

It is a simple ceremony. A Catholic church- despite Marcus's family being Methodist; he'd wanted her to have her choice. It was more important to her, he had reckoned. Annabeth is the gorgeous bridesmaid, in dark green. She has grown up beautifully.

Her friends from Washington had flown in the night before, but their flight had been delayed and the planned meet-up had been forgotten.

In the absence of her father, she had not wanted her brothers to walk her down the aisle. After all, she had been the one to raise them. She would do it alone. But when sees the closest thing to a father figure she's had, in the hotel the night before the wedding, she wonders why she hadn't thought of asking him before.

"Of course, Teresa," he had said. "Of course."

She stands at the foot of the church, peeking round the corner, watching her niece walking up the aisle. She can spy Tommy in the first row, looking with pride at his daughter. He somehow manages to catch his sister's eye and he winks.

The wedding had surprised her brothers, but they are happy for her, delighted even. She knows they thought this day would never come.

"Ready?" she hears the voice at her ear.

"I think it's time," Virgil says.

She nods.

"Ready."

Walking up the aisle feels strange. Her heart is beating very fast, but she sees Marcus standing at the altar, looking, adoring, at her and her nerves disappear.

Her side of the chapel is full of familiar faces. Time seems to go very slowly as she sees them, beaming at her from all sides. Her three brothers and their families take up the first two rows. Behind them stand Cho, Fischer, Jane. They are all smiling. Abbott had been unable to come, she'd been told, an unexpected something had come up, meaning Wylie had to stay behind too. She didn't mind. Her most importants were here. Behind her Washington connections sit Wayne and Grace, Ben and Maddie, older, bigger than she imagined or remembered. She is shocked to see Madeleine Hightower has actually come, sitting beside May whom she'd been introduced to the night before; Minelli's partner. A scattering of friends from all over the country. Chicago, California. Both Washingtons.

All the people she's ever cared about, all here, all happy for her. She is glad they are to see this happy day.

The service is lovely, the music is sweet, and in the blink of an eye it is over, and she is standing beside her husband at the doors of the chapel as their guests come to congratulate them.

And then Jane is there, dazzling smile she knows is not real. He reaches for Marcus' hand and shakes it, patting him on his arm too.

"Congratulations, you pair. Lovely to be here, lovely. Teresa, you look beautiful."

Marcus' smile is real, and it is beaming, but he does not know Jane like she does and so he does not see the pain behind his eyes. Marcus returns the handshake thoroughly and thanks him for his good wishes.

And then Jane is gone.

Huh, Lisbon thinks.

At the reception, Lisbon dances more than she was expecting to.

She feels blissfully happy as she dances in her new husband's arms.

She dances with Minelli and laughs as he turns her in his arms, the closest thing to a father-daughter dance she can ever have.

She dances with Rigsby and it is clumsy and familiar and lovely.

She dances with Cho and it's surreal but somehow nice.

She dances with Jane, eventually and it's – it is. It is what it is, innocent and dangerous all at once.

"I'm glad you came," she says, nervous.

"I wouldn't – couldn't have missed this, Lisbon. I care too much."

She nods.

"I'm sorry for what I said the last time," he murmurs, too close to her hair. "It wasn't untrue, but it was wrong of me."

"No," she says. "It was good to hear. I wish-" she trails off.

"I wish," Jane picks up on the last words. "I wish you and Marcus are outrageously happy together. I wish he is too good to you and I wish you love every moment of it." She smiles.

"I wish everything for you, Agent Lisbon." He whispers the last bit.

"Thank you," she smiles.

He leans down and kisses her forehead.

"You deserve every bit of it; every piece of good fortune that comes your way."

She smiles, and he does too.

Eight months after the wedding, she gets the chance to follow a lead back in Texas. She jumps at the chance. Marcus doesn't like the idea of her going unaccompanied, but she puts his mind at ease and travels the miles alone.

She walks into their FBI office and her heart breaks a little the moment she sees Jane realise.

"Lisbon," he whispers, standing up from the couch she left him in, almost a year and a half ago. He is smiling, shocked. "Wonderful, Lisbon- wonderful."

He takes her in his arms and hugs her tightly. She hugs back with everything she's got. This is going to hurt him.

"You never said."

"Well," she shrugs. "It never came up."

"That's lovely, Teresa. Congratulations." He looks at her. "Really."

"Thank you."

"When?" he asks.

"Four months gone," she smiles quietly.

He's looking at her, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I can't believe it. It's great. Congratulations."

He hugs her again.

"I wondered," she says, uncertain. "I wondered what you'd think."

"I think it's wonderful. Really, I do. I think it's great news. Great news."

She thinks he means it.

Her son is born just over a year after their wedding.

It occurs to her that she is glad he is a boy. She thinks it would have been hard on Jane watching her little girl grow up when his didn't get the chance. She wonders would it be as hard on him as watching her living out her life with another man must be.

Besides, this way, motherhood doesn't scare her. After all, she's already raised three boys.

"What will we call him?" Marcus asks as he sits on the side of her hospital bed and they gaze into their son's crib, mesmerised by the life they have created.

"Charlie," she murmurs. "I've always liked Charlie."

"Charlie Pike," Marcus repeats, and breaks out into a wide grin. "I like that a lot."

She looks at her husband, looks at their grasped hands as he lifts them to his lips and kisses the back of her hand.

"I was thinking," Marcus says. "I had a great-uncle Patrick I really looked up to as a child." He pauses. "And I know you and Jane were close - are close. What would you think?" He looks at her. "Besides," he beams. "Imagine, only for Jane we might never have met. We'd still be back in Washington, me still up on the sixth floor recovering art, and you- you'd be up to your eyes with one of Jane's schemes, wouldn't you?"

He is so happy.

She is too.

She leans forward and places her hand into the tiny crib and brushes her thumb over her son's forehead.

"Something like that," she murmurs.

A few weeks later Jane and Cho fly out to Washington to visit the little family. They are glad to return to Washington, see their dearest friend, see her in these, the happiest days of her life.

They watch her as she potters around her little suburban home, no picket fence, but a nice red broom bush around the perimeter of their family home.

Lisbon, still a little plumper than they're used to seeing her, places her child in Cho's arms. He looks down at the baby and sees his friend's features gazing up at him.

"Suits you, Kimball," she smiles pointedly at him. He raises his eyebrows at her. "I don't know about that," he says, but he smiles.

Of course, she can't say anything like that to Jane when his turn comes to hold the child. He looks at her son a long while.

"He has your eyes, I think," Jane finally says.

For some reason she can feel a blush creeping into her cheeks.

"Lucky boy," Marcus says, coming into the room.

"Indeed," Jane agrees. "You've a lovely son here Marcus, congratulations."

"Don't I know it," Marcus smiles, looking at Lisbon. He sits beside her on the couch and places his arm behind her. She lies back into his touch. Jane takes that moment to readjust the child in his arms. Cho watches this, as always. He sees Lisbon, settled, relaxed, happy. He is glad she made the right choice two years previous, that she had the courage to do the difficult thing when it would have been easier to continue doing what she had been for the previous twelve years.

That evening they are alone in the kitchen.

"How is he, Cho?" she asks.

"Better," he says, considering. "Better."

Then Jane waltzes into the kitchen wondering where she keeps her teapot, and the words are forgotten.

Three days later, they bid her farewell, and leave for Texas.

"Are you happy, love?" she asks him one night, Charlie long in bed. Her head rests on his stomach and he is playing with her hair.

"Of course," he laughs. "Everything's wonderful. I have a beautiful, crazy, mad wife and a gorgeous terror of a son, and we've all got a lovely little bump on the way."

She laughs.

"And you, my crazy, mad, beautiful wife, are you happy?"

She smiles up at him.

"I am." She pauses. "Perfect," she whispers. "Everything is perfect."

Lucy is eight months old when she gets the call. Forty minutes later she is running through the crowded hospital corridor, heart raging, head thumping.

"Pike, Marcus," she cries to the receptionist. "Please- I-"

"-Teresa," she hears, and turning is faced with Stephen, Marcus' partner, and his tearstained face.

"Steve," she says, gasping for air. "Steve-"

She grasps his arms. "No, Mar- where-where?"

He takes her by the wrist.

"He's in surgery, Teresa. They're doing all they can. They're doing all they can."

She's pacing, pacing. Tears don't come.

Stephen brings her coffee. She drinks it without tasting it.

Time ticks on. What must be moments, hours, days pass and yet the coffee is still warm in her hand.

And then there's a doctor, and he's talking to her.

He's talking but she doesn't hear, and then she does hear, and she wishes she hadn't.

"He's lost a lot of blood," the doctor is saying, and she's been here before, she's heard those words before, and she knows it's over. She knows it's lost.

It takes longer than it should for her to realise that she herself is the source of the long strangled cry she can hear in her ears, and then all she can feel is the imprint of cold tiles on her cheek as she hits the floor. Then what must be Stephen lifts her to her feet, but she cannot stand, she cannot go on, not without him.

A plastic cup of water is put in her hand, she is sat on a folding chair.

He has a few hours, the doctor says. We will do our best, he says. We will make him comfortable, he says. Lisbon nods. It's all she can do.

Through the confusion she remembers that Tommy is on a job only an hour away, he had planned to come to dinner on Sunday. That wouldn't happen now. The first thing of many they had planned that wouldn't happen now. Stephen calls her brother and tells him what's happened.

The nurse takes her into the room her husband is in. Machines beep, engines rattle and yet he sleeps on.

"Talk to him," the nurse tells her kindly. "It might help him, and it'll definitely help you."

She leaves them alone.

"Marcus," she says, voice rough, and for the first time she feels tears run down her cheeks.

"Marcus."

And, because she doesn't know what else to say, she tells him about her day. She tells him how Lucy managed to spill tomato sauce all around the high-chair. She tells him how she thinks Charlie might have picked up a flu, but not to worry, he'll be fine. She tells him there's a bill to be paid next week, and then she stops, because she knows he won't be here to see it.

She sits at his side and holds his hand.

It is after midnight when Tommy comes in, Charlie and Lucy with him, however that happened. Lisbon forgets to ask.

Miraculously, Marcus stirs then.

"Teresa," he says, voice croaky and dry.

"I'm here," she sobs. "I'm here, Marcus."

She tightens her hold on his hand and she feels him squeeze lightly back.

"The kids?" he says. He sounds tired.

"They're outside," she says. "With Tommy. Tommy's here. We're all here."

He asks to see his children, then. The nurse seems worried about infection, but she seems to realise the risk of infection is not applicable in this case. Fates have been sealed already, it would seem.

Lucy, their little night owl, is wide awake. She coos at her father and presses sloppy lips to his face. Lisbon can't help the tears running down her cheeks.

"My girl Lucy," Marcus says. "My good girl."

Lisbon takes Lucy out and gives her back to Tommy. She stirs Charlie from his sleep and carries him on her hip.

"Reese," Tommy says, strapping Lucy into her car-seat, "I'm so proud of you." He hugs her tightly.

She nods, and returns to her husband's side.

Charlie is in a sleepy stupor and so Lisbon sits him on her knee. He grasps at her and tries to hide his face in her neck, hiding from the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital ceiling.

"Come on, Charlie," she encourages him. "Come say hello to Daddy."

He wakens eventually, a little grumpy, but he reaches chubby little arms around his father's neck and Marcus kisses his forehead.

"Gently, gently," his mother whispers to him.

Marcus grows weaker by the hour.

Tommy takes the children home, to a friend of his sister's, and returns to the hospital.

He comes in to talk to his brother-in-law, and Marcus asks Teresa to leave them alone.

She watches them talk through the glass panel in the door and jolts as she realises she's lived through this before and never heard the truth of what was said.

Tommy comes out then, and Teresa goes back in.

Teresa sits on the edge of his bed, holding his hand. They are mostly silent now.

"I'm so glad you chose me," Marcus murmurs.

There's no point denying it; not now, not ever.

"Me too," she says. "I wouldn't change anything."

"Nothing?"

"Not a single thing."

A sob escapes her.

"Listen to me, Teresa." His voice has grown lower, quieter, barely above a scratchy whisper. "Don't be afraid. It's going to be fine. You're going to raise our babies and it's going to be brilliant."

He coughs a little.

"Hush," she pleads. "Save your breath."

"And after a while," he struggles. "after a while you'll find someone to make you happy again."

"No." She shakes her head.

"Yes," he insists. "Listen to me. I want you happy. Eventually you'll want you happy too. You wanted it once, Teresa. You wanted it when you chose me, and you'll want it again, someday. Promise me."

She looks into his pained eyes, so full of love.

"I promise."

He nods. "Good."

He closes his eyes then and her heart starts to race. She's not ready.

"Do you remember," he says, eyes still closed, "our first date?"

"I do," she smiles.

"Pancakes," he whispers, and her eyes fill with tears.

"Pancakes," she says.

"I love you so much, Teresa," he says, and he is whimpering.

"I love you too, Marcus, so much. I love you."

She readjusts her hold on his hand, and she holds it, and holds it into the night, until she doesn't hold it anymore.

It is almost the same people sitting in the church for the funeral as sat in it for their wedding, five years previous.

She feels strong, supported and yet somehow, so very alone as she walks up the aisle behind the coffin, and does not see Marcus' smiling face waiting for her at the top. However there is a small, tiny warm hand in hers and she focuses on it as her strength.

The FBI throw money at her like there's no tomorrow, standard procedure after a death like Marcus'. She knows fairly quickly that she will go back to Austin.

When she does, it's to a different FBI: Fischer has relocated to New Mexico; Wylie, to the fourth floor. Cho is the head of his new unit and Lisbon's heart is fit to burst with pride.

It's desk duty Lisbon wants now, no excitement, those days long behind her. Too much to lose now; too much for Charlie and Lucy to lose. So she sticks to planning heists, organising stings and operations and tries not to miss the running so much. She works with Jane the odd time, and more as they fall into old habits. It makes her happy that her children won't have to wait for a reasonable boss in their twenties to have good male role-models, as she did. Cho and Jane are always around, they stay in touch with the Rigsbys and their growing family. Marcus' family stay very close, and Lisbon is very glad to have that love and support around her.

She keeps her head high, chin up, best foot forward. She misses him so much. It's still hard, still so very hard, but it's stopped getting harder, and even that helps keep her going.

The kitchen is a mess of streamers, bunting and balloons, a happy mess of colour and love. Her home is buzzing with laughter and excitement but the kitchen is empty save for her and Jane. They can hear the stomping of feet and delighted yells coming from all over the house and beyond.

"Do you know what today is?" Jane asks her suddenly, a funny smile on his face.

"I hope so," she laughs. "It's my daughter's fifth birthday and there's fifteen little brats running around tearing up my garden. Help me find more party hats, will you?"

She is standing at the island in the middle of her kitchen, refilling a quickly-emptied bowl of sweets.

Jane holds up a finger to correct her. "It is not. Lucy's birthday was Wednesday. This is the closest Saturday to that so she could have her little party. I'm talking about today."

She sets down the bowl and turns around to face him.

He is watching her. "Today marks twenty years since we first met," Jane says.

Her eyes widen. "What?" she whispers, and he nods.

"God, we're old," she groans. "I can't believe that."

"Believe it," he says. "It's true. Twenty years, huh? And we've seen it all."

She nods.

He lifts a paper bag from the dresser. "Here we go, here're the party hats, by the way." He lifts one from the pack and sets it down on the dresser again. "Now we can really celebrate."

He takes a step towards her and she takes a step back, her back meeting the island. Her arms go out to the side, holding the rail of the island behind her. Leaning forward, he sets the party hat on her head and places the elastic under her chin.

"There we go," he says, smiling.

"Patrick."

He looks at her then, really looks at her, as he hasn't allowed himself to look at her for a long, long time; and, as though the thought has just occurred to him, a long repressed memory suddenly remembered, he leans forward and touches his lips to hers, innocent as children, closing the gap of twenty years between them. She raises one hand to his chin and kisses him sweetly back.

A laugh escapes her as she breaks away, a tearful, happy, confused laugh.

He is beaming and she looks up at him, biting back her lips' soft smile.

He shrugs. "That didn't take long," he smiles.

She pulls him to her and holds him close.

"Would you," he whispers to her on the couch that night, kids in bed, the house finally quiet, settling after the ruckus of the afternoon; an easy silence between them:

"Would you consider," he looks at her intently, "letting me be your consolation prize?"

"I don't know about that," she murmurs quietly, looking up at him, curling her legs underneath her, dropping her head onto his. "Would you mind letting me be yours?"