A/N: Well, this is the end, my friends. I think I've written around a hundred short stories and tags for this fandom. I've taken breaks from it, threatened never to write for The Mentalist again, but something about this show keeps pulling me back. Well, I will probably continue to write as long as you continue to read. On to the conclusion, as promised, though be warned, the first part is Rated M.

Chapter 11: Conclusion

Lisbon awoke suddenly in the night, a disturbing dream dancing on the edge of her memory. Something dark, frightening, but fortunately elusive. She was confused for a moment, but then she felt the warm hands sliding beneath her long t-shirt to cup her breasts, felt a distinct hardness pressing insistently into lower back, and she knew with a small smile why she had awakened. The subject of her dream forgotten, she turned in Jane's arms. They lay on their sides, facing each other.

"I'd say, 'not tonight, I have a headache,' but that should be your line," she whispered in the darkness.

She sensed rather than saw his grin. "You can't blame me; you were wriggling against me in your sleep. Not even a concussed man could resist that."

"Sorry," she said, not sorry at all. She slipped her hands gingerly into his hair, felt the tender lump on his skull. He flinched but allowed her exploration.
"We should probably have taken you to the doctor."

"You first," he countered, remembering how she'd been pushed out of the van.

"No. It's just a few scrapes."

"And I just have a bump on the noggin. But talking about our health is not why I woke you up. Don't worry; I'll be gentle with you."

"Please don't be," she whispered, before drawing his mouth to hers.

Her hands dropped to his shoulders, glided down his firm arms before they wrapped around her and she realized he was completely naked. She opened her mouth on a gasp of pleasure, and he deepened the kiss. Soon he'd divested her of her shirt and panties, his fingers making her ready while his hot mouth feasted on her breasts. Her heart beat wildly, her breathing fast and dizzying. She threw her leg over his hip, opening herself to him. They both groaned as he slipped easily inside.

He found her mouth again in the darkness, his tongue suckling hers as he moved languidly within her body. He was slowly driving her insane with his slow intensity. Hadn't she told him she didn't want him to be gentle? She wanted him to take her hard and fast, to wipe away their nightmares, to make them both ache for a much more pleasurable reason. She tried to increase the pace by moving her hips faster, but his strong hands came down to guide her back to his preferred rhythm.

"Relax," he whispered at her sound of frustration. "I want to savor this."

"You're driving me crazy," she said, feeling the perspiration gathering at her brow, feeling the slickness of his chest too, as she realized he was also fighting his instinct to take her quickly.

She heard the smile in his voice after he took a deep, shaky breath. "That's the idea. Just trust me and go with it. You'll be happy that you did."

And so she let him continue his maddening movements, but once she focused on the slow, smooth gliding of his body, a tingling surge of heat began to build deep inside of her. She held fast to his shoulders, and his grip on her hips loosened as she met each movement with equal intent. Their breathing synced, corresponded with the pounding of their hearts and the give and take of their bodies.

After several minutes she could no longer control her measured response, and she convulsed around him with a cry of pure ecstasy. He too had found his breaking point and he moaned into his release, rolling her to her back as he plunged deeply one last time. His body was heavy upon her, but she relished the closeness, the beating of his heart against hers. He was right: she was very happy she'd followed where he'd led her, and she wondered dreamily if it would always be this way between them.

"I love you," she heard him breath into her ear, just before she drifted off into the deepest sleep of her life.

Xxxxxxxxx

The phone woke Lisbon again sometime near first light, and she answered groggily.

"Partridge is dead," said Cho without preamble.

"What?" she sat up in bed, and Jane stirred where his head lay against her bare stomach.

"Cyanide capsule he'd hidden under his tongue. The second I asked him about his relationship to Red John, he bit down on it. Damn idiot; I would have given him a deal."

"Shit," she muttered, and by then Jane was sitting too, the sheet falling from his chest to pool about his waist. "Now what? The judge for sure is going to shut this case down and McAllister will be kept in the low security city lockup where he can come and go as he pleases, free to kill me or Jane or find another innocent girl."

"I sent Sac PD to the house where Jane was held last night and the whole damn place was cleared out. No sign of the guard. CSI is looking for DNA, but I'm not hopeful."

In the morning sunlight glowing behind the blinds, Lisbon could see Jane's bleak expression as he heard both sides of the conversation.

"I'm not the least bit surprised," Jane said so Cho could hear. Lisbon put the phone on speaker. She wondered what her friend would think if he knew Jane was in bed with her. She shrugged. Cho didn't strike her as one who would judge her for something like this. He'd know how traumatic shared experiences tended to bring people together.

"I'll be over in about an hour," said Cho, "soon as the morgue picks up Partridge. You two need anything by way of supplies?"

"No, we're fine. But I should get ready to go to court, don't you think? I expect a call from Ardilles any minute."

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," Cho replied. "McAllister's going to expect you to move that the charges against him be dropped. Since he doesn't have Jane as a hostage anymore, it's a good bet that you'll be the one to pay the consequences if you cross him."

"I agree with Kimball," said Jane. "That's why I'm going with you."

"Well, that gives him back his leverage," said Cho, an obvious frown in his voice. "McAllister will have you murdered in the parking lot."

"Not if we're ready for it. Besides, no way am I twiddling my thumbs here by myself."

There was a brief pause as Cho considered his headstrong safehouse guests. If he put his foot down, they'd do what they wanted without him.

"Fine, but I'll be your escort. Maybe you two can draw out a couple more of Red John's minions."

"Good idea," said Jane.

"We'll see you when you get here," she said to Cho, and hung up. "You sure this is a good idea?" she asked Jane. "I'm not sure I like being the bait to catch a serial killer." His immediate answer was a brief but thorough kiss, then:

"Don't worry. I've got a plan."

She was almost too dazed to reply. "Of course you do," she said, but he wasn't forthcoming.

"You can have the shower first. Sadly, I noticed earlier that it's only big enough for one."

She grinned and rose from the bed, groaning as the abuse and passion from the last few days caught up with her. A hot shower sounded heavenly. "I'll take you up on that."

He watched her delectable backside as she made her way slowly to the en suite bathroom. When he heard the shower running, Jane got out of bed, slipped on his boxers and went into the living room where he found his discarded suit coat. From the inside pocket he removed the phone he'd taken from Baldy when he'd hypnotized him. He pulled up the record of the phone's previous calls, and brought up the most recent. He dialed the number on his own phone.

"Bart? How'd you get your phone back?" came the voice on the other end.

"This is Patrick Jane," he replied. "Tell your boss I'm coming for him." He disconnected, then called a cab. He dressed quickly, rummaged through the drawers in the kitchen till he found a notepad and pen. He scribbled a note to Lisbon and left it beside the bed along with Baldy's phone:

Teresa,

This phone belonged to my captor from last night. I'm sure Agent Cho will make good use of it. I have some business to take care of. See you at the courthouse.

Love,

Patrick

PS: Please tell Agent Cho I've got a very important trick up my sleeve.

Lisbon would be royally pissed off at him, but this was something he had to do alone.

When he opened the front door to leave, he figured he had only about thirty seconds before the alarm went off, and he closed the door quickly behind him. His Uber was waiting for him, and he got into the backseat. He thought longingly of his gun on the coffee table in the safehouse, but where he was going, he wouldn't be able to take it anyway.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane had been a frequent enough visitor at the courthouse that the guards knew him at the Sacramento County Jail as part of the legal team of Thomas McAllister. He signed in and was scanned with the metal detector wand, instructed to leave his cell phone and keys with the guards. Of course, whoever was working for McAllister would be on alert for his arrival, and Jane knew he might not make it out of the place alive. But it would all be worth it in the end. Hidden inside the seam of his coat sleeve was a small recording device he'd bought when he'd gotten the bug detector. He was able to conceal its location when the metal detector wand hit on his watch.

McAllister was waiting for him in the small conference room reserved for inmates' attorney visits. He wasn't even chained to the table as per usual, which gave Jane pause, but he managed to mask his brief flash of fear as he took the chair across from him.

"And then there was one," said McAllister with a grin.

"It's going to be pretty hard to find a lawyer who'll work for you now; they seem to be dropping like flies around you lately."

McAllister shrugged. "Attorneys are a dime a dozen in this state; it's finding loyal ones that will prove difficult."

"I'm sure. From every lawyer joke I've ever heard, you'd be hard pressed to find many that would kill themselves to protect their client."

McAllister frowned. "What is it you want, Patrick, other than to threaten me to the guards?"

Jane stared at the man a moment, the startlingly blue eyes glimmering with barely controlled anger, despite the bland smile on his face.

"I want to cut the bullshit. I know who you really are, and I'm tired of the abductions and the blackmailing of people I care about. It's gonna stop, you understand me?"

McAllister chuckled, though without real humor; neither did he seem surprised that Jane knew his true identity. "Or what, Patrick? You're going to kill me? I admit you had me going there, pretending to pick the perfect jury for me. And my own attorney went right along with it. A shame what happened to him. But when you started sleeping with the prosecuting attorney, that sent up a few red flags. I certainly turned the course of things to my advantage after that, though, didn't I?"

"Maybe, but I know enough now that I can go to the Feds with my information. None of your local cronies will be able to help you out when you're rotting in a Federal penitentiary."

He raised an eyebrow at that, and Jane watched as he brought out a small carpet knife and began idly cleaning his nails with the sharp point. Jane's heart jolted painfully in his chest, and he knew that if he yelled for help, no one would come.

"You think my influence stops at the state line?"

"Well, I wasn't certain till now. But don't worry, the Blake Association will go down right along with you."

McAllister's eyes hardened. "Where did you hear that name?"

Jane shrugged with a nonchalance he didn't feel. "Maybe your people aren't as loyal as you think they are…Red John." Jane held his breath, waiting to see whether McAllister would jump up and slit his throat or confess to being a serial killer. But there was no turning back now.

"If I were who you think I am, it would be pretty stupid to provoke me this way, don't you think? Especially considering how the lovely ADA is still out there, unprotected as she is."

Jane forced himself to ignore his threats, and, looking McAllister straight in the eye, he began to speak softly, his voice almost soothing.

"I'm curious. When did you begin killing women exactly? When you were with Visualize, or before that? I'm thinking you started when you were a teenager, maybe with rape, because that's what your mother had done to you all your life. Maybe you didn't even mean to kill your first victim—some kinky strangling game that went wrong, I would bet. But you liked that feeling of control, that power you had over the weak, because you used to feel weak yourself, didn't you? You were scared at first, of what you'd done, of getting caught. But when you didn't, you brought a knife with you for the next time. Things progressed from there, and you grew bolder, honed your craft. Tell me, Thomas, was your mother a redhead?"

Before he could finish his last word, Jane found himself slammed against the cheaply paneled wall, Red John's blade at his throat. He felt a sharp sting as the knife drew blood near his jugular.

"Don't ever mention my mother again," he said through his teeth.

Jane knew that the only thing that saved him was the buzz of the door as it opened, admitting McAllister's new attorney. Instantly, the carpet knife disappeared, and the killer was back in his seat once more. Maybe this particular guard wasn't on Red John's payroll. Jane's hand went to his throat, felt the wet stickiness of his own blood. Fortunately, it was just a scratch, and he brought a shaky hand to his pocket for his handkerchief. Without another word, he brushed past the guard and headed for the exit.

"By the way, Patrick," McAllister called before the guard shut the door. "You're fired."

No one tried to stop Jane as he left, and he quickly retrieved his belongings and signed out.

Outside the jail, he leaned against the brick wall, breathing heavily, his body trembling almost uncontrollably while a cold sweat made him shiver in the warm morning sunlight. He hung his head in failure. Nothing he'd recorded was even close to a confession. He hadn't counted on McAllister having a weapon, though he should have, hadn't thought that he might not be cuffed to the table as he'd always been before. What was worse, now the killer knew for certain Jane knew his identity, knew that Lisbon was likely aware of that fact as well. He had to make it to the courthouse to warn her, to protect her. Maybe Cho would arrange for them to go into witness protection. He heard Bora Bora was nice this time of year.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon entered to courthouse, still angry at Jane for abandoning her at the safehouse, though worry now overrode her feelings of betrayal. He'd texted her saying he was on his way, but didn't reply when she'd asked where he'd been. She hoped he hadn't done anything stupid or dangerous. Or both. Cho stood right behind her as they went through security. He showed the security guard his CBI badge and got to keep his weapon, for which she was grateful.

Ardilles had called earlier, and he was already present at their table, given the unusual circumstances. He didn't want to help stave off any suspicion that anyone in the DA's office had been responsible for the deaths of both the sheriff's attorneys, though from what he'd heard from his assistants, social media was already rife with speculation. Now, even if she'd wanted to, there would be no way she'd be able to withdraw the charges against McAllister. Her heart picked up speed as she pondered what this could mean for her and Jane's security.

Cho sat directly behind their table, and Lisbon and Van Pelt shared a meaningful glance: this was not going to be a fun day.

Jane made his appearance, and it took everything in her not to run to his side, sock him in the nose, then kiss it better. She frowned at how pale and drawn he looked, his eyes bleak, his clothes and hair unusually disheveled. He hadn't changed his suit, and she would bet he still hadn't showered. Relief was obvious in his expression when he saw that she was all right, that Cho was there. Jane took his reserved place behind the defense table, amidst the low hum that filled the packed courtroom. Media and curious citizens were there to see if there would be further drama to fill the gossip sites and Twitter feeds.

They waited for thirty minutes past the usual time before the bailiff came in. At that same moment, Cho's phone vibrated softly. Beside Lisbon, Ardilles also received an incoming text, as did a smattering of reporters around the room. Lisbon felt a hand on her arm and turned around to see Cho's unusually strained expression.

"I gotta go. I'll call you."

The bailiff called for silence, then he made a quick announcement. "Due to unforeseen circumstances, His Honor has notified me that the trial has been postponed. Have a good day."

The crowd erupted and Ardilles shoved his phone into Lisbon's hand. She blanched at what she read on the screen. When Lisbon looked over for Jane, she saw he had followed Cho out of the courtroom.

"I need to get out there and give a statement to the press," Ardilles said. "As the prosecutor of record on this case, you need to be there too." Ardilles used his phone to make a quick call, as she nodded numbly.

Outside the room, microphones were thrust immediately into Ardilles's face, rapid-fire questions pummeling him like baseballs. When he held up his hands, the crowd quieted.

"Like many of you, I've just gotten the news of Sheriff McAlister's death. I have no idea of the circumstances, but I will be sure our office gives another statement as soon as we know more. Now, I would appreciate your clearing a path so my associates and I can get out of here and find out more information for you. I'd also be grateful if you held off publishing any unwarranted speculation until all the facts are in. Thank you."

"Dear God," Van Pelt murmured beside Lisbon. She seconded that emotion.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Agent Cho!" Jane called the moment he stepped out of the courthouse. Cho turned around, just as his hand reached out to open his car door.

"I'm sort of in a hurry, Jane."

Jane caught up with him, slightly out of breath. "What's going on?"

"McAllister is dead. I don't know all the details yet, but he was apparently murdered in his cell."

Jane frowned. "I just saw him about an hour ago."

"In the jail?"

"Yeah."
Cho's face turned grim. "Then you will likely be considered a suspect." His eyes narrowed on the Band-Aid on Jane's throat. "What happened there?"

Jane's hand went automatically to his neck. "McAllister nicked me with a carpet knife this morning. He would have killed me if his new lawyer hadn't come in."

"How the hell did he get a blade?"

Jane shrugged. "He's got friends in there, obviously."

"Then why didn't they protect him?" asked Cho. Then a thought occurred. "Did Bret Stiles do this?"

Jane's face went blank. "What do you know about Bret Stiles?"

"When you were abducted, Teresa told me all about him and Red John and Haffner. She figured I needed to know all of it if I were to help find you. If Haffner was working for Stiles, maybe others in McAllister's circle are too. I imagine he'd be pretty pissed off with McAllister if he killed one of his men, foiling his original plan to murder McAllister."

Jane nodded. "My money's on Stiles."

"You'd better steer clear of this situation, then, before someone figures out your connection to Stiles. Maybe you should go back to the safehouse. No one but me knows you and Teresa have been staying there, or that you've been involved in any of this. I'm just investigating a murder and a related suicide. I'll try to keep you and Teresa out of this, but you two need to lay low for awhile. Since you saw McAllister this morning, I'll have to question you for the record, but you were part of his legal team so that should cover your being there."

"Okay."

Cho looked around, noticed the sudden rush of people exiting the courthouse. Bad news travelled fast. "You shouldn't be seen talking to me, or Teresa, for that matter. It would be best to keep that relationship secret too, at least till this all blows over."

"You're right, of course. I'll see you later."

Cho didn't stick around long enough to see Jane trot back toward the courthouse. He had yet another murder to investigate.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cho made it to the Sacramento County Jail in record time, Rigsby joining him at the rear entrance. They were hustled in quickly, then led to Sheriff McAllister's enclosed cell. Sacramento PD was there as well, two officers guarding the door. Nothing yet had been disturbed on the scene since a guard had discovered the body when he'd come to escort McAllister to the courthouse. The jailhouse was on lockdown, every prisoner accounted for in their cells, jail guards on high alert, monitoring every exit.

A police detective greeted Cho and Rigsby. "It ain't pretty, but I expect you've seen this before," he said grimly. He nodded and one of the officers opened the door.

The scene was indeed familiar, though McAllister's body was still warm, his open chest cavity seeping blood. Above his cot was the usual macabre bloody face, still wet in places, but with one notable difference from crime scene past: instead of a smile, the face exhibited an almost melancholy frown. McAllister's killer was sending a clear message. This wasn't the work of Red John, and only someone who knew the dead man's true identity would realize the irony of his mode of death. From what Cho could tell, McAllister's murder had been a duplicate in every detail of Red John's work in the past, save for that telltale scowl.

"Red John, isn't it?" said the detective.

"It appears so," said Cho. Beside him, Rigsby tensed. He of course knew the main difference, and was as shocked as Cho. Neither of them offered an explanation, though Cho had a pretty good idea who the real killer was.

"I thought the face was usually smiling," added the detective. "You think he's changing his m-o?"

"Looks like it," said Cho. "Is CSI on the way?"

"Yep."

"Get me the security camera footage, will you please?"

"Sure thing." The detective shook his head. "Jesus Christ. No one deserves to die this way."

Cho and Rigsby shared a knowing glance. They couldn't have disagreed more.

Xxxxxxxxxx

After Ardilles's quick statement to the press, everything became a whirlwind for Lisbon. She was still in shock after she and Ardilles arrived at the jail and saw Sheriff McAllister's body and the frowning face on the wall. She caught Cho's eye, and a world of unspoken words passed between them. Someone with a very macabre sense of humor had killed Red John, and they were both reasonably certain who that someone was. But the overriding emotion the friends shared was that of relief, that Red John's reign of terror was over. There would be no more innocent women murdered in this horrible way, and while Cho must leave the file on the serial killer open and unsolved, he would know that he need never add another sickening photograph to the pile.

Of course, there would be an investigation into the jail employees, and even into the DA's office, since they would have the most to gain by McAllister's death. Already the speculation had risen to a fever pitch, and Ardilles and Lisbon would have to do damage control for some time.

Cho had high hopes that he would begin to unwind the Blake Association's tentacles from around the justice system, maybe uncover more corruption, more workers on the take, as McAllister had been. He frankly wouldn't mind if more of them went the way of Partridge, saving him some work and the State of California money by giving themselves swift justice.

That afternoon, Cho called Jane into the CBI for questioning. Before he pressed the button on the video recorder, he showed Jane a picture of McAllister's crime scene. Jane looked at the image on the phone, noted the change of the usual calling card, but did not point it out.

"That's terrible," he said with a convincing shudder, lest someone was watching from the one-way window. But like Cho and Lisbon, in his heart he was rejoicing. Cho began to record.

"Did you visit Sheriff McAllister this morning at the Sacramento County Jail?"

"I did. I was his jury consultant, and I wanted to discuss what would happen now that both his attorneys had died…"

The questions continued for about fifteen minutes, before Cho felt he'd suitably covered all relevant information. Of course, he never mentioned Bret Stiles or Visualize, nor Jane's abductions or his involvement with Lisbon. Jane had his alibi in the checkout time on the jailhouse records, was seen personally by Cho at the courthouse soon after. The security video at the jail had been mysteriously wiped during the suspected time of the murder, and it was interesting that no one else had signed in after Jane had, not even McAllister's new attorney.

As Jane left the interrogation room, Lisbon stepped out of the viewing area. It had been she, Ardilles, and Rigsby watching from behind the glass. He'd been cool, calm, and confident when answering Cho's questions, even seeming to fear for his own life, since he was the sole survivor of McAllister's original legal team.

"The roof, eight o'clock," she whispered to him, just as Ardilles followed her out of the small room. Jane nodded and slipped out of sight.

Xxxxxxxxx

Lisbon met Jane on the roof of her apartment building with a warm hug of thanksgiving. They'd survived this; their lives, their reputations and presumed innocence still intact, at least for now. Cho would protect them as best he could, and they'd covered their tracks fairly well along the way. McAllister's death would be chalked up to another mysterious Red John victim, cleverly linked by Cho to Haffner and Partridge.

Jane hoped eventually he and Lisbon would be free to show their love for each other in public, and while he hadn't discussed the particulars with her, he had tentative plans to move his businesses to Sacramento. Things had happened quickly between them, and he was plagued with doubts that she would have second thoughts about their relationship. She'd said she loved him, and something told him Teresa Lisbon didn't use those words lightly. But she was also a woman with traditional values, and the risks she'd taken these last few days had been decidedly out of character.

"I can't believe this is really over," she breathed into Jane's neck. He kissed the top of her head, then pulled away to look at her in the faint glow of the twinkling rooftop lights.

"It's over for Red John," he said. "But I…I hope it's not over for us."

"For my part, it's not." And she pulled his mouth down to hers. After a few heated moments, they gently parted and he led her to sit together in the lawn chairs. He didn't let go of her hand, so happy was he to hear she still wanted to be with him.

She sighed, and he could tell she was still trying to make sense of the last several days.

"I know that what we did—what Stiles did—was wrong. But I can't seem to feel guilty about it."

"It was wrong in the eyes of the law, Teresa, but Red John received the justice he deserved, you must have no doubt about that."

"But what gave us the right to be judge and jury? And from what you've told me, Stiles has done horrible things himself. Where is the justice for those that he has wronged?"

"I'm not a particularly religious man, but I do believe that we all get what we deserve, if not in this life, in the next. Eventually, Stiles will pay, of that I have no doubt."

In the meantime, Jane had sent the old man a bottle of single malt scotch. Anonymously, of course.

"And what about us, then?" Lisbon's voice was trembling. "Will we get what we deserve?"

"We did what we did for the right reasons." He touched the cross at her neck with the pad of his forefinger, then met emerald eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "I don't know if I really deserve you, but I'm willing to take that chance. Are you?"

She smiled. "The jury's still out on that one. I'll need to kiss you again before I can give you my impartial verdict."

"Hmmm…Take all the time you need, Counselor," he said huskily, right before passion carried them both away.

THE END

A/N: I appreciate all who read and reviewed this story. I hope you had as much fun reading as I did writing. Until next time…