A/N: This is the final chapter of this story, and I'm relieved I got to finish it. I've had a huge writer's block because I just didn't know how to end this. My initial idea just didn't stick, so I had to rethink it.

I hope you enjoy this chapter (I really am nervous about the response it'll get, because, well, it's the last one and I wouldn't want it to ruin the 4 previous chapters). It also means that this'll be the last time you'll get such a long delay for its update!

Replies to guest reviews:

- Guest: I certainly am not the best - see how long it took for this update? But thank you for the compliment and I'm glad you love this story! Thank you for your kind words.

- Reader: Thank you for your review, it always is a pleasure to hear from you! Unfortunately I'm starting university, so I won't be able to prolong this - time has been shorter then I had planned! Thank you for your idea, though, it would've been fun to explore! Oh and I got to correct those typos, so I have to thank you for that too.

- Guest 1: Abbott is also one of my favorite characters now, too, he is hilarious in a subtile way! You'll see I added a small scene where he seems to be a little more compassionate - I couldn't keep him mean for very long. Thanks again for all your reviews, I'm touched you followed this since the beginning!

Disclaimer: Do we really have to go through this? Fine. I don't own the Mentalist. I also don't own the lyrics of the song that are under the line right there.

If I can find my way home, will you take hold of me?

'Cause I've been gone so long, I can barely say
All I know is now I want to stay.

Has it been too long

Since I went away?

Cause I'm trying to find the words,

But I can barely say.

- The Fray, I Can Barely Say

After he lowered his head and stepped out of the small plane, he took a second to stop and take a deep breath. The air wasn't as pure as in South America, it was a touch more polluted. And the lives of the Americans living in the United States were much more fast-paced, to the rhythm of their jobs. He also knew that the island's landscape had nothing to envy Texas'.

But Lisbon was here, and it was enough to weight out all of the negative points.

He was home.

"Lisbon."

She turned around, noticing Cho for the first time as he stood up from his chair.

"Cho," she said in surprise, before smiling genuinely. She walked towards him, as he took a couple of steps forward.
"Look at you," she said in wonder, scanning him from head to toes, taking in his neatly dry-cleaned and expensive-looking suit. "An FBI Agent. I should've known you'd end up here."

It had been a year since the last time she heard from him. Now she knew just what he had been up to, and she couldn't help but feel pride growing in her chest at seeing what her once second in command had accomplished for himself. So she hugged him and let him know how happy she was for him by whispering, "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks," he replied simply as they released each other. He hadn't changed one bit, with his always composed expression and neutral voice. She realized at that moment how much she had missed him.

"I finished training at Quantico five months ago," he informed her. "Don't know if they'll make you go through it, though, since you've been Senior Agent for many years at the CBI."

She didn't think she heard correctly. It was most probably a mistake. "Wait. Training? Why would they-"

Cho raised his eyebrows. "They didn't tell you why you're here?"

Her heart jumped in her chest. They had told her through the phone that Jane was coming back and that they wanted her there, all transportation charges on their behalf. But they hadn't said why. And she hadn't asked; with the buzzing in her ears at the news, she'd had a hard time focusing on the woman's - Agent Fisher she believed - next words, or answering while trying to keep the tremor in her voice at bay. She had hung up with a shaking hand, and was sure all the color had been drained from her face.

She shook her head. "No, they didn't," she replied carefully.

"The reason why Jane accepted to come back on the US soil was because they'd offer you a job at the FBI," he said, looking at her carefully.

She froze, taken aback by the revelation. She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it as nothing came out. But her initial shock was soon replaced by warmth seeping through her veins; this was a typical Jane gesture. She had lost her job at the CBI after the Red John mess, and he wanted to make it up to her.

"Follow me," Cho said, breaking her train of thought. They climbed up the stairs and as they headed towards the hallway, she took in her surroundings. The building was big, cold and impersonal; nothing like the sheriff's office she had back in Cannon River. But it also held the image of grandeur and accomplishment she had imagined it would.

She had always seen herself either ending up director of the CBI or Agent for the FBI before signing up with Patrick Jane; she'd once been ambitious. But given the amount of trouble he caused, she knew after several weeks working with him that her CV would pay the price. So she had ended up solely focusing on two tasks: catching the killers and keeping Jane out of trouble. Her days were full and it was enough; she enjoyed her job and loved her team. And she knew Jane had made her a better cop, despite his less than religious methods. But it was ironic now that he, of all people, was giving her the opportunity to fulfill one of her old dreams.

Cho opened a door to her left, revealing what seemed to be like a small conference room with its circular table and leather chairs.

She stepped in, quickly scanning the room with her eyes, before turning around. "So, Jane with the FBI, huh."

"Yeah," he scoffed. They both knew what that would lead to. He'd be able to cause trouble on a national scale - of course he'd take advantage of the change of situation.

After a couple of seconds of silence, Cho spoke up. "He'll be here soon," he said simply, letting a brief smile cross his face.

"Okay," she smiled back, crinkling her nose; a tic she hadn't gotten rid of after all these years. Even after the countless times Jane had commented on it. It's adorable, he has once said, in a tone that was both teasing and affectionate.

With that he closed the door behind her, not without a nod of encouragement. So she hadn't been as good as she thought she had at hiding her nerves. Dammit.

She stood there, anxiously twisting her hands. Jane would be here any minute now; and after two years of absence, she still had a hard time wrapping her head around the news. Her heart was beating faster than its usual rhythm, causing her hands to sweat. She both longed and dreaded for the door to open. She was terrified because she had no idea how to react when she'd see the man who had said and written I love you to her almost two years ago. And what should she expect from him? Would he pretend the words had never been uttered, for the second time? Despite that he had written that he wasn't going to take it back.

On another hand, they had been separated for two years. She had changed, and he probably had, too. He'd had all the time in the world to think, and she had no idea what conclusions he had drawn, which direction he wanted to take.

Patrick Jane wasn't even back yet, and here he was already causing her headaches, she thought sarcastically.

But it was useless to keep wondering, keep guessing for something that was yet to take place. So with a sigh, she went for the first chair in her reach and sat down, her back facing the door.

And she did exactly what she's been doing for ten years now: she waited for him.

"Second door on the left."

After glancing at Cho one last time, Jane headed towards the indicated door. His body was in overheat due to his racing heart, so he undid two buttons of his shirt to avoid suffocation. He swallowed, fighting to regain composure. He cursed himself for feeling so weak; but it had been two years since he had last seen her, and he had no idea what he was going to find behind that door. Would he find her changed? Had she moved on? Because he couldn't ignore the possibility that she had come all this way only to tell him that she couldn't stay here with him, in Austen, and that her boyfriend was waiting for her back home. And he didn't think he would have the strength to keep his mask on if she wore a band on her ring finger. Nor face the pity that would be evidently there in her eyes.

He knew he was stalling; but having the moment he's been desperately hoping for for two years at arm's reach was unbearably nerve wrecking.

But I know someone who might be disappointed to hear that.

Your letters to your girlfriend Lisbon.

Abbott's voice echoed in his head from their head to head conversation back on the island. And they gave him the ounce of courage he needed to grab the door handle. Those two sentences implied that Lisbon hadn't moved on. He knew it could've been a trick from the man, but he selfishly wanted to believe the words were true.

With newfound hope, he took a deep breath and opened the door. He had to know if he still had something to live for.

"Cho just escorted Jane to the conference room," Fisher informed Abbott, standing at the door of his office.

"Ok," he replied, drawing his focus back to the paperwork he had to fill. But seeing as the agent hadn't left, he raised his eyebrows, peering at her from the top of his glasses. "Will that be all?"

"Shouldn't we go make them sign the contracts?" she asked, voicing her incomprehension at his lack of reaction.

Abbott smiled knowingly. "Let's give them some time alone. They're not going anywhere."

"Yes, sir," Fisher replied, raising her eyebrows but walking away nonetheless.

He watched her leave, shaking his head in amusement before turning his attention once again to the stack of paperwork waiting to be filled.

He took a second to persuade himself that he was really and truly seeing Teresa Lisbon again - well, her back.

"Hey." His voice came out hoarse, but it was enough to make the woman in front of him jump in surprise. He hadn't even noticed he was grinning until his eyes finally met hers as she turned around and stood up.

"Hello," she answered back, her voice soft and hesitant. She hadn't prepared herself at how affected she'd be at seeing him again. Nor remembered how contagious his 1000 Watt smiles were as she found herself instantly grinning back at him, her previous worries pushed at the back of her mind.

They both stepped forward, closer, both stunned and thrilled to see each other again after all this time. They hadn't truly smiled in a while, and it felt good.

He hadn't changed much, she decided, except for the stubble he had let grow, and one or two lines around his eyes that she didn't remember being there two years ago. But they only enhanced his bright smile - and oh, she had missed his smiles.

"Nice beard," Lisbon teased.

Jane's smile grew impossibly, and his eyes twinkled in response to the warmth that spread in his chest. He had missed their easy banters that had once paced their friendship.

"Thank you," he replied as if it had been a real compliment, and he could see the laughter in her eyes.

Jane seemed to scan every millimeter of her face, his gaze intense. "Oh, I missed you."

And with that he took her in his arms, because it had been two years, and she was right there.

She smelled like cinnamon and coffee and home.

She held him just as tightly, closing her eyes as Jane rocked her gently from right to left.

"I missed you too," she sighed against his shoulder, the sound muffled but still clear enough for Jane to hear.

Then, she pulled away.

"You're an idiot for risking coming back on US soil just so the FBI could offer me a job," she pointed out, frowning at him disapprovingly. "You do realize it could've been a trap?"

He shrugged as if it was an insignificant detail. "I was willing to take the risk."

"Well, I wasn't. How do you think I would've felt knowing you were in prison, Jane?" she scolded, hurt evident in her voice. "And don't insult both our intelligences by saying it would've been alright. You would've been miserable in there."

Of course he would have, with no way to exercise his mind. But the island back in South America had been turning into one, too. Boredom and loneliness were psychologically just as dreadful.

He wanted to tell her that he was just as miserable during the last couple of years, without her presence to keep him entertained. But one look at her sorrowful expression makes him stop. And he's dreading the next words that'll come out of his mouth, has been planning to push them away until he can't anymore, but he has to know why she's here.

"Teresa." Her name came out firm and soft at the same time, to catch her attention and make her listen to him. And it worked, seen as how she jerked her head up to meet his eyes at his employment of her first name. "I didn't come back just so the FBI could offer you a job. I came back for purely selfish reasons." He glanced down at her almost shyly. He continued, trying to keep his voice at the same level. "But I know that I'm maybe too late. You can refuse the offer, I'll understand."

He would. And he would do his very best to smile and be happy for her, because there'd surely be a reason to walk away from the opportunity - or rather a someone. She'd probably see through the front - after all, she knew him best - but would keep on pretending he actually meant it. It'd be much simpler that way, for both of them.

"I'm not going to refuse the job."

There. She had said it and he now knew where she stood. It was much more than accepting a job offer; it meant that no matter the time or the place, no matter how mad she was at him or the years that had separated them, she would always come to him. Had he really expected her to push him away now?

And yet he was looking at her intensely, slightly dazed and a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"We're partners, remember?" she added lightly.

"Never forgot," he replied, smiling at her like she had given him the best gift possible.

And she smiled back. Then after a slight pause, her gaze softened, her expression intense. "I never got to thank you for the letters," she said tenderly.

He looked at her, really did in that moment; the first time in two years. He tried to decipher the emotions shinning in her green eyes. There was affection. Relief. Happiness. Apprehension. Love.

"You kept them, didn't you?" he asked carefully, even though he thought he knew the answer to that. Still, he couldn't be sure.

"Of course I did," she answered simply, her voice steady; but her eyes betrayed her. She knew he could now see how unhealthily dependent she had become of his monthly letters. True, they had helped her go through the hardest days when she missed him too much, but they had also sealed her faith; Josh had paid the consequences.

All of a sudden, Jane took a couple of steps towards the door and closed it.

"Jane?" Lisbon watched him wearily as he came back to her.

"You didn't move on." It wasn't a question, just a fact waiting to be confirmed.

She swallowed. "I tried." Her eyes briefly met his before looking away, then switching back to him.

He read the pain and heartbreak she wished she could conceal from him. "How far?" he breathed.

"He…proposed," she admitted, her eyes sad.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. And he was. He had never wanted her to go through that kind of pain.

"It doesn't matter anymore," she replied. The past couldn't be changed; and he was back now. They wouldn't drown in the guilt and regret of what could've been.

After a heavy silence, Jane cleared his throat. "Lisbon, I…"

He wanted to tell her everything right then and there. Lay out all his cards. He wanted her to know that he had thought of her everyday without fail on the island, and that he'd used the memories of all the good times they'd shared together to get him through his darkest days. That she had been the light at the end of his miserable tunnel; she had been the one that had kept him going, even when he wasn't sure if he'd ever see her again.

But he had no idea how.

The words never got to be said, however, as Abbott chose that moment to swing the door open and come into the conference room.

"So, let's get this over with, shall we?" Abbott asked, raising his eyebrows knowingly at seeing Jane and Lisbon's proximity.

"We shall," Jane replied, and couldn't help the tinge of disappointment in his voice.

Lisbon took the box of letters in her hand, a small smile on her lips at the reminder that Jane was back, and that he was waiting for her in Austin. They started work on Monday. Until then, Lisbon had booked the next flight to Washington so she could use the weekend to pack. Jane had proposed to come help her, but she had refused, and he hadn't insisted. It was probably better if they both had a couple of days alone to think.

As she was about to place it in the suit case, she paused. She looked at the time, and decided that she could give herself five minutes - she was almost done, anyway. So she pulled out the first letter from the box and sat down on the couch - the last time she did so here.

She remembered the first time she had read the letter, sitting on this very couch. Her hands had shook towards the end, tears blurring her eyes. She had re-read it a couple more times, before heading to the kitchen and pulling the bottle of tequila out of the drawer. She wasn't a drinker, had promised herself she never would after her father's funeral - her brothers and her were still bearing the bruises he had left on them that day. But she always kept that bottle, had been saving it for years in her drawer back at the CBI, for when the times would be too rough.

And the events that had occurred the last couple of months had been too much for her to handle. The Red John hunt and the CBI being shut down, Jane running away… Too many changes - some for the worst - in such short notice was a lot to take in.

But once she had poured her first portion of the alcohol in a glass, she couldn't help but think about Jane and how he would've disapproved. If he were here, he would've persuaded her not to do it, and in the end she would've listened to him. But Jane's not here, she'd thought furiously, angry tears sliding down her cheeks. He's done plenty stupid. Why can't I?

Because he would've know you'd hate yourself in the morning. The voice in her head had replied.

She'd ended up throwing the content of her glass in the sink, and gone to bed, taking the letter with her to put it on her bedside table.

I love you,

Lisbon read, and she couldn't help but ask herself if he still meant it now.

The weekend went by slowly. Jane felt like he was back on the island, constantly walking around trying to keep himself occupied, a task that wasn't nearly as easy as said.

She was moving for him. And despite her better judgment, she had sacrificed a perfectly stable future with a man that loved her because of him. She could've had a good life with a man that would've taken better care of her than he ever had, and that could've offered her so much more.

He didn't deserve her. He never did. And yet, she was always there, saving him again and again - in every way possible.

He'd had enough time to think, he suddenly decided. If two years and a weekend weren't enough, then he never would be ready. His past had been holding him captive for so long, imprisoning Lisbon in the process. But nothing was weighting down on them now; his revenge had been accomplished and distance wasn't an issue anymore.

He could see how easy it would be to sink into their old habits again. Regain their old comradeship and easy bantering, while trying to ignore the electric pull that was driving them together. But Lisbon wouldn't stand for it very long - and he couldn't blame her. He'd be damned if he lost her because of his own stupidity and cowardice.

Before he had the chance to lose his nerve, he grabbed his phone and dialed Lisbon's cell number, not giving it a second thought. He usually acted on impulse, that was how he worked.

It went to voicemail. He checked the time. 3:45. Ah, she was in the plane.

He decided he wouldn't hang up. He'd go through with the message and see the outcome, because if he didn't say it now, then he might never have the courage to again.

"This is Lisbon. Leave a message, I'll call you back."

He cleared his throat. "Lisbon, it's -it's me. Listen, I… This is harder than I thought," he sighed. He'd figured it would've been easier to say it to her phone than in person; but he'd been so very wrong.

He opted for a different tactic. "The truth is that you are the only reason why I came back. Because I missed you and I couldn't imagine spending the rest of my life without you by my side."

His voice was hoarse. "The truth is that you are the single most important thing to me, Teresa. And that my feelings haven't changed during these last two years."

He took in a shaky breath. "I love you, and I thought you deserved to hear it again."

Lisbon was waiting for her luggage when she noticed the blinking light on her phone signaling someone had texted her or tried to call her.

Jane was the name displayed on her screen, informing he had tried to contact her. And he had left a message.

Her first instinct was worry - old habits obliged. He used to leave her messages when he had done something out of line and was apologizing, because she'd been too angry to take the phone at the moment. Or when he was worried about her. But surely he couldn't have already been in trouble before starting work. Then again, she was dealing with Patrick Jane.

So she went on her voicemail, not without a tinge of apprehension. But the second she heard this voice projected from her phone against her ear, she knew this was for something else completely. "Lisbon, it's -it's me." His raw voice echoed. "Listen, I… This is harder than I thought."

She tightened her grip around her phone at his distressed tone, and pressed it harder against her ear, her heart pulse accelerating. "The truth is that you are the only reason why I came back. Because I missed you and I couldn't imagine spending the rest of my life without you by my side." His shattering voice was enough to break her heart all over again. Tears started blurring her vision, because she knew what he had gone through.

"The truth is that you are the single most important thing to me, Teresa. And that my feelings haven't changed during these last two years." Her eyes were glazed over as she hung to every word he said, every pause and every breath he took. The sensation of tears was burning its way up her throat, but she pursed her lips, trying to keep them at bay.

Her chest tightened as she heard him taking a shaky breath, clearly preparing himself for the next words to come.

"I love you." He said firmly. "And I thought you deserved to hear it again."

And those three words assured her that despite everything that had happened, her heart would be easily pieced back together.

She saw him waiting for her at the terminal, and didn't repress the smile that was forming on her lips. He hadn't noticed her yet, though, obviously buried in his own thoughts.

He only felt her presence and raised his head once she took the last couple of steps distancing them to stand in front of him.

"Hey," she said softly as she met his eyes.

"Hey," he replied in kind, his eyes scanning her features. Her eyes were slightly red. "Did you get my message?" he asked, hating how vulnerable he secretly felt.

"I did," she replied, looking at him intently.

He took a step closer to her, his expression suddenly serious and intense. "You should know that I meant what I said, every word of it. And that I won't be taking it back, not now, not ever."

She smiled tenderly at him. "I know. And you should know that I feel the same way." Her eyes told him everything he needed to know, but she continued on nonetheless. "I love you too, Patrick," she whispered.

He grinned, happiness and love etched on every line of his face. "Well, that's lucky."

She grinned back at him, her eyes shinning.

With that he took her in his arms and kissed her, slow and deep, as if to seal their words. His left hand stroked her cheek gently while the other pressed against her lower back to keep her close. And she kissed him just as eagerly, her arms locking around his neck - they had both been waiting for this for a very long time.

Her phone was still gripped tightly in her right hand.

A/N: Well, this is it. It's time for me to write "The end" and thank all the fantastic people that have patiently stuck with this story, whether it was by reviewing it or following it, or even favoriting it. So, whoever you are, THANK YOU, and maybe I'll hear more from some of you on future stories I might publish.

It's been a nice experience. Thank you for reading!