Disclaimer: The Mentalist belongs to the brilliant Bruno Heller and Warner Bros. I'm grateful to get to do this purely for love.

Author's Note: You know, when the episodes are this good, it's much harder to find inspiration. But not impossible, especially when I get a request. Guest, I hope this is at least sort of what you wanted!

Not an hour into our flight to JFK, Lisbon has fallen asleep on my shoulder. She didn't sleep well in Beirut, too worried about our assignment and too unhappy about dealing with Erica again. I wanted to stay another night, just to relax and romance her a little more, but she wanted to go home. She didn't want Abbott to think we were taking a vacation on the FBI's dime.

Not that he would have objected. We gave him a big win in front of the CIA, after all. He'd probably spring for a few days if we asked. But Lisbon is still trying very hard to believe he doesn't know about us, and I'm not inclined to disillusion her. If she wants to tell herself he assumed we'd be okay sharing a room because of our long partnership, she can.

But I know the truth, of course. Dennis Abbott is a smart man, and he knows she didn't change her mind about moving just on a whim. He knows it was because of me. And he figures we spent our leave humping like fluffy little bunnies.

He knows, and he couldn't be happier about it. He gets to keep a fine, talented agent and now has a happy consultant less inclined to go off the rails. Win/win. He probably has his fingers crossed that we'll slip up and find ourselves with a bun in the oven, figuring that as a family man I'll be more careful. He's probably right.

The idea fills me with equal parts terror and longing.

But it's way too early to think about that. Lisbon and I haven't even managed to have the exes conversation yet, much less think about what color our picket fence should be.

There's no real reason we have to have that conversation, as far as I'm concerned. I have a very good idea of who she's slept with since we met, with the exception of any lucky residents of Cannon River. And she knows everything she wants to know about my sparse sexual history as a widower. Though I guess I've never come out and said I refrained from wooing any of the ladies on my island. Maybe I should.

Because of course what she really wants to know is whether she can trust me now. She's trying; I see her trying. But Erica flirting with me via videoconference shook her a little. It brought back all the distrust and anxiety of the old days, all the jealousy and hurt. And finding herself in that emotional state again churned up a lot of memories she'd tried to bury. Hence Lorelei appearing in our conversation years after we had any further need to discuss her. I tossed out Walter's name to remind her that the conversation she was starting had to go both ways, highlighting the awkwardness of going back over our (mostly mutual) past. I was so relieved when she backed down.

I really want to continue to like Walter. And I suspect if we talked about their little fling, I might not. Angela never gave me reason to discover it, but it turns out I am a jealous man.

Lisbon stirs a little, and I tuck her more comfortably under my arm. When she's settled, I move my hand from her shoulder to play with her hair, a new calming technique I particularly enjoy. Then, so as not to be selfish, I thread my fingers into her hair and gently massage her scalp. She all but purrs in her sleep, relaxing against me and smiling a little.

How can she not realize how utterly I adore her?

I ponder the question for a while. Does she think my love is too sudden, too convenient? That it's something transient? Looking back, I know I tipped my hand many times, to her and to others. But maybe she trained herself not to see my slip ups, or at least not to believe in them.

By the time I started making my list, I know she had decided her love was unrequited. Her expression when she handed me her ultimatum in the house on Orchid Lane breaks my heart even in memory. I don't want to take us back there, ever. But maybe I have to address some of the issues that were in play before Lisbon can be confident I'll never break her heart again.

The trouble is, I'm not sure how she will react, and I can't bring myself to take risks when it comes to Lisbon. She is, I am certain, the last woman I will ever love. If she leaves me, I have no idea how to cope.

Hm. Maybe Lisbon isn't the only one with trust issues.

I remind myself that all the things we need to talk about are in the past, and she's still with me. She stuck by me through the actual events, so it's not rational to fear she would leave me over memories.

But my heart is not rational. It's fragile. And as terrifying as it is to be honest with her, to let her in, it's far more frightening to contemplate her rejecting me after I've done my best to keep her. It would destroy me.

I sigh, leaning my cheek against her soft, sweet-smelling hair and closing my eyes. "Promise you'll never leave me," I whisper.

Lisbon hums in her sleep, then murmurs, "Idiot."

I chuckle, taken off guard. My movement disturbs her, and she sits up with a yawn, rubbing at her tired eyes. I see her look at the water bottle tucked into my seat pocket and hand it to her, knowing she's often thirsty when she wakes.

"Sorry I woke you," I say softly, putting the bottle back when she's finished. "You can go back to sleep; we still have a long way to go."

She frowns a little. "Were we in the middle of something?"

I chuckle again. She's a light sleeper, my Lisbon. "Not really. You called me an idiot in your sleep. With good reason, I'm sure."

"I'm sure," she agrees, shifting around in her seat to get comfortable. I tried to talk her into letting me spring for first class, but I made the mistake of letting her near the gate agent. When she found out what it would cost, she told me to buy a decent car instead and insisted we remain in the coach seats the FBI was paying for. She regretted it soon afterward, since she took the middle seat. But we put the armrest up and took advantage of the closeness to get in a little cuddling. "I hate long flights. Next time a mysterious woman from your past shows up, can you just tell her to get lost?"

"Certainly. You're the only mysterious woman from my past that I care about. Well, except for Grace, but that's entirely different."

"Madeleine Hightower," she reminds me.

"Yeah, okay, her too."

Lisbon is silent, unable to think up more names. This is one time we're both glad I'm basically a selfish man who doesn't care about very many people. I hope she finds reassurance in the idea that she is by far the most influential woman in my life. At least, the most influential one who's still alive. It wouldn't be fair to discount Angela's role in making me who I am.

"Susan Darcy," she says, and I wince with guilt.

"Highly unlikely to ever want anything to do with me again." Poor woman.

"But if she did, you'd help her."

"Yes." She shouldn't have tried to interfere with my plan, but she didn't deserve what she got for it. Poor Wainwright.

"Stop it," Lisbon says, sliding her arms around my waist and giving me a barely there kiss on my chin. "It wasn't your fault."

It was, actually, but she and I will never agree on that point, so I don't press it.

It occurs to me to be profoundly grateful that I don't have to worry about Lorelei calling me up one day. That would truly represent a threat to my relationship with Lisbon, if only because we'd have to talk about her. And I'm not sure I can ever make Lisbon understand that what I felt for her wasn't love in any sense she'd recognize. It was more a sense of kinship, based for me on shared pursuit. That I let my own hopes and desires prevent me from seeing she was just as selfish as me is part poetic justice, part valuable life lesson.

"Hey," Lisbon says softly, "what are you thinking about?"

I need to be honest with her. It's her one true demand of me. "I was thinking that there are some things we should probably talk about. Because even though you know most of what happened to me, you don't necessarily know how I felt about it. I was working pretty hard to hide from you back then."

She gives a quiet snort. "No kidding."

"I had to. You were the greatest danger to my plans, the one person who could have completely derailed me."

She sits up and looks at me, her mouth open in astonishment. "Derailed you? How?"

"Several ways. For years I was quietly terrified you'd figure out I was tired of the hunt, tired of being alone, and you'd turn to me one day and suggest we run away together and spend our days making love on a beach somewhere."

She blinks, stunned, and then recovers. "You'd have hypnotized me to forget I said it, or even thought it. After you stopped laughing."

"I wouldn't have laughed," I assure her, holding her gaze so she knows it's true. "And...there were days I would have agreed without a second thought."

She blushes a little, then drops her gaze and shrugs. "Maybe. But after a while you'd have started to feel guilty, and you'd have left me and gone back to your revenge."

"Probably. Which is precisely why I didn't want you to see the possibility. I was no good for you, Teresa. All I had to offer you was heartbreak. And I never wanted that for you. It...became apparent after a while that it was inevitable, but I tried to protect you. I tried to keep enough distance between us to cushion the blow. For both of us. Because maybe you could have stopped me from getting my revenge, but I would always have hated myself for not keeping my promise. And I was afraid I'd come to resent you for it."

Lisbon leans her head on my shoulder. "I knew I was never going to be more important than him. And I hated it. I hated you for it sometimes. But mostly I hated myself for being weak, for falling in love with a man who could never love me back."

"But I did," I whisper. "I didn't push you away because I didn't care. It was because I did. Way too much."

"Even...even while you were scheming to get Lorelei out of prison?"

"Yes. I told you before I shot you, remember?"

"Well, yeah, but then you proceeded to forget saying anything and ignore me to the best of your ability while you obsessed about her."

"Not your typical hearts and flowers kind of courtship, was it," I sigh.

"No. But I know you're trying to make it up to me now. Ice cream on the roof, antique cars, wanting to spend a ridiculous amount of money on plane seats, that kind of thing." Her smile brings an answering one to my face.

But I know it's going to take time to tip the scale in my favor. Years of neglect can't be erased by a few weeks of romance.

She sobers a little. "But what means the most to me is that you're trying to be honest with me. Even if I have to remind you."

"I am trying," I say quickly.

"I know." She puts so much love and understanding into those two words that I have to kiss her. But when we finish, I realize she wasn't done talking. "And I want to make sure you know that I realize part of the deal of you telling me the whole, unprompted truth is not getting mad when you do. Okay? You don't need to worry that telling me something will come between us. If you lie to me I'll be angry and if you don't tell me something I need to know I'll be hurt, but as long as you tell me the truth I'll do my best to take it in the spirit in which it's meant."

I swear, Lisbon just gets more amazing the more I know her. She knew exactly what I needed to hear. "Thank you. I...I should have trusted you to...to understand about the kiss. I'm sorry I let her blindside you."

"It's okay. Just don't let it happen again." She's only half joking.

"It won't. There aren't any other women I've kissed," I assure her.

"Not even on your island?" She looks unhappy. "Didn't you try to move on?"

I sigh. "I was just as stuck as ever. I had no idea how to process anything after so long. I'd lost two lives at that point and I didn't see the point in trying to build another one. I took the first chance I got to try to reconstruct my life with you, but you had all this anger and all these rules about what I was and wasn't allowed to do now. I was worried I was going to drive you away. And then Pike came along, and I thought it was too late for me, but maybe you could still be happy."

"You were an idiot."

"I can't disagree."

"You should have just told me," she sighs. "At some point before I got on the plane. Or even before setting up that whole con in Miami. Only you would find it easier to orchestrate a massive FBI effort on a cold case than just say a couple of sentences to me!"

"It was easier," I admit. "It didn't give you the chance to reject me. Except when you figured it out, of course."

"I didn't reject you. Well, okay, yes, but only because I was so mad you'd lied to me again. I need the truth from you, Jane. When you gave me that, we both got what we wanted."

Yes, we did. "The truth is hard for a habitual liar, Teresa. Be patient with me while I retrain myself, please."

"I am," she assures me. "But if it helps, how about this." She lifts her head to look me in the eye. "I'll never leave you for telling me the truth. Okay? I promise. Unless the truth is that you don't love me anymore," she adds after a moment.

"Never going to happen," I assure her, holding her tightly.

We sit for a minute, content to hold each other. Then Lisbon says, "You really are kind of a mess, you know that?"

"I'm aware," I reply.

"But you're my mess. And I'm not leaving you to anyone else to clean up. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good." She reaches up to stroke my cheek, her eyes sparkling with emotion. "I love you."

She hasn't said it much, not in those words. Maybe because she isn't used to saying it to anyone, but probably because she was still protecting herself from me, subconsciously waiting for me to hurt her again. "I love you," I tell her, wishing I had the words to convey just how much and how fiercely.

I will say it every chance I get, but more importantly, I will show her every chance I get. My actions were what hurt her in our past, so they have to be how I show her I really have changed.

I whisper in her ear, "And I will never, ever stop."

She trembles a little and whispers back, "Me either."

I wish I could make love to her here and now, but we're many hours from home and our comfortable bed yet. So I say, "Good. Go back to sleep, love. I'll wake you up for breakfast."

She yawns in response, tucking herself into a comfortable position in my arms as I pull the thin airline blanket back over her. A few minutes later, she's out, relaxed and dreaming hopefully happy dreams.

I'll take care of her, and she knows it. That's the one thing I've always tried to do, no matter how crazy things got. And she's always taken care of me, even when I didn't want her to. We just need to keep doing that, and we'll be okay.

A lot of things have changed, and for the better. But that hasn't, and it never will.

Our past is important; it's what led us to this point. But the future is ours to shape.

It's going to be great.