A/N: Another chapter courtesy of my deluded mind, which, by the way, is coming up with excuses good enough to explain my absence. One word: HOMEWORK. I think that about sums it up, especially since it was math. Ooh, look, a pun! (This is me when I put too much sugar in my tea.) Anyhoo, this is not the last chapter. I think. Thanks to Lizzybeth93 for being the most wonderful beta EVER! Hope this makes up for my writing deficiency…

Disclaimer: All I own is my flash drive, a.k.a. my best friend. This means not only do I not own The Mentalist, I also do not own the songs that I borrowed snippets of or anything else, for you people who need details.

As Lisbon drove, she let her mind wander. She knew it was a bad idea, but at this point, she didn't care. She didn't even feel like she was connected with her body anymore: she was just floating through space without a purpose.

I failed. The thought was a smack in the face. After what Lisbon had gone through for weeks, this was all she had to show for her efforts, and it hurt. That hurt was so deep it would never heal.

The unfairness of the whole thing was astounding to her. She couldn't grasp the realness of it, even though she knew it was there and wasn't going away.

Lisbon wouldn't allow herself to cry. It showed weakness, and despite having cried more in the last six weeks than she could ever remember, she wasn't going to let her weaknesses through again. She was going back to Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon, the tough-as-nails cop.

With a sigh, she turned on the radio. Another bad idea.

"…better as memory than as your man," Kenny Chesney sang soulfully through the static. Lisbon's breath caught in her throat and she changed the station.

"…draw me a map that leads me back to you…," Dierks Bentley crooned. She spun the dial again. There had to be a station that wouldn't remind her of… him.

"…I know there's no life after you…"

"…this ain't goodbye; this is just where love goes…"

"…I'd much rather be somewhere with you…"

"…come back to me…"

"…every time I hear your name…"

Snarling angrily, Lisbon shut the radio off. After a second, she turned it on again. Lowering the volume all the way, she went to a random station and vowed to listen to whatever song was on. She couldn't let music – something that had always comforted her – have this effect on her. Taking a deep breath, she spun the volume up.

Nothing happened. Suddenly, the car lurched forward, making Lisbon glad she'd had enough sense to wear her seatbelt. The engine sputtered but kept going, though not as strongly as before.

Lisbon cursed. She searched the streets around her and was relieved to see a mechanic shop ahead. Urging the Mustang along, she pulled into the parking lot. Just as she did, the engine died, much to her annoyance.

Up close, the shop looked deserted, but the sound of heavy machinery inside gave away the presence of life. Lisbon walked to the door of what looked like an office and knocked. No one answered, so she tried to open the door. It was locked. The large garage door was open, however, and she walked into the shop. Her ears were assaulted by the screeching of some failing machine.

A string of profanity was uttered from somewhere behind the machine, and a tall, good-looking young man stepped into view. When he noticed Lisbon, he smiled as if nothing had happened. "Hello, miss," he said. "Can I help you?"

"My car just broke down," Lisbon explained. "I was lucky enough to make it here before it stopped. It's in your parking lot."

"I'll take a look at it, then." The man wiped his hands on a greasy cloth and made his way toward her.

"Thank you," she said gratefully. "I really appreciate it, Mr. ..." Not knowing the man's name, Lisbon trailed off.

"Wilder. Lucius Wilder." Lisbon's eyes must have shown her surprise, because he went on, "I know. Strange name for a mechanic."

Lisbon forced down her urge to blush at being caught. "It's a lovely name," she said truthfully.

He grinned. "Thanks. Now, let's see your car."

Lisbon led him to the Mustang. When Lucius caught sight of it, he let out a low whistle. "She's a beauty," he told her. "Do you have any idea what the problem might be?"

"None whatsoever," Lisbon said. "My brother is the mechanically-inclined one." She had to maintain her mask of normalcy; else he would ask questions that she wouldn't be willing to answer.

Lucius laughed. "I see. I'll get my truck. Any other day, I'd have my assistant do it, but he's busy with repairs today, unfortunately."

"An assistant? I didn't see anyone else," Lisbon commented.

"He tends to keep to himself. Understandable, given his background. He's actually older than I am." Lucius looked her over. "Maybe about your age."

"You're saying I'm old?"

He looked aghast. "No, no, not at all."

"I'm just kidding. You were saying about getting the truck?"

"Oh, right." Lucius grinned sheepishly. "You can sit in my office if you'd like. I'll show you where it is."

"Okay."

He led her back to the garage door and pointed at a door near the back of the garage. "Right there," Lucius said. "The door's a little tricky, so you might have to fight with it a little."

Lisbon thanked him and made her way to the office. As she passed the machines, she studied them. They were so complex, much like her life at that moment. Oh, what she wouldn't give to be anywhere but Podunk, Illinois, in the shop of an oddly-named mechanic with an invisible assistant. She wanted to be at home, in her apartment, in his arms. The wave of longing that crashed over her sent her dashing for the door of the office so that no one could witness her emotions break free of their confines.

She had to battle the door, as Lucius had warned, but finally Lisbon was alone. "Breathe," she whispered to herself. "Breathe, Teresa. You're fine. You're alright." When she was calm – as calm as her current situation would allow – she sank into a worn chair in front of a cluttered desk.

The desk was the only item in the room that was messy. Everything else was immaculately tidy. Well, almost everything. The three-drawer filing cabinet beside the desk had a cluster of pictures on top of it. The glass covering the photos had a thin layer of dust over it. Lisbon examined each picture carefully: a pretty, blonde woman with blue eyes; a tiny, newborn baby swaddled in a pink blanket; a younger Lucius with a shining silver Porsche; an older Lucius with a group of friends adorned with party hats; and so many more. It seemed that this man's life was perfect except for failing machinery, with nothing else to worry about: a lovely wife, a beautiful daughter, a nice car, and a close group of friends.

And here he was, repairing other people's problems.

Lisbon ran her finger along the frame of a small, crude Valentine. A misspelled "I Love You Uncle Lu" was scrawled in a toddler's handwriting. It made Lisbon smile slightly. To be loved... it was a lot to ask for.

"I see you're as bad as my assistant," Lucius said from the doorway. Startled, Lisbon looked up at him.

"You have lots of good memories," she commented. "More than I do."

"Good memories? Yeah, I suppose they are." Lucius walked to the filing cabinet and motioned at the first picture Lisbon had seen, the one of the blonde woman. "That was my sister. She died three years ago serving with the Marines." He moved to the baby girl. "That's my friend Michael's daughter. She has leukemia." On to the photo of him and the Porsche. "I totaled that car a month after this picture was taken. Spent three weeks in the hospital. Still have the scar." He pulled down the collar of his shirt a bit so that Lisbon could see the puckered line there. He lifted the picture of his friends, picking each of them out as he spoke. "Michael – the one with the little girl – is in Iraq. Meg is in a home for abused wives because her husband tried to kill her. Tim was diagnosed with cancer a year ago. And Rose..." He sighed, lightly touching the last woman's smiling face. "Rose killed herself. It's been two months now." Lucius replaced the picture. "These are all 'good memories,' as you said, but they're here to remind me that life isn't perfect and that something bad can happen when you least expect it."

"I know what you mean," Lisbon said in a small voice. "I'm sorry. For everything."

"Me too." He stared at the pictures for a minute, then said, "Back to your car. It's the transmission. It's gonna cost you."

Unable to stop herself, Lisbon put her head in her hands and groaned. She didn't have any money with her, and she'd maxed out her credit cards. Maybe her insurance would cover it... but probably not, since she had a few unpaid bills that were probably rotting in her mailbox at home. This was great. Just great.

"Do you need to make some calls? To arrange things?" Lucius asked.

"I don't have anyone to call," she answered, her voice monotonous. I'm alone. I was looking for someone I never found and now I'm completely alone.

Seeing her despairing expression, Lucius shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "Well... I... uh..."

"It's okay. It's not your fault." Lisbon looked at him. "You have to make a living. I understand." Then she had an idea: Cho. Cho knew what was going on. He knew why she had left. He had money, and Lisbon knew that she would be able to pay him back. "Actually, can I use your phone? I... lost mine."

"Certainly." He gestured to the phone. "Free of charge," he added with a small smile.

Lisbon smiled back. "Funny," she said, picking up the phone. She dialed Cho's number as Lucius gave her some privacy. Cho didn't answer, so she left him a voicemail explaining what had happened, leaving the number of the garage. It was the first time since she'd left that Lisbon had contacted him in any way. She hoped he would understand.

When she hung up, Lucius popped back in. "I was just thinking... if you wanted to learn more about cars and how they work, I could show you if you'd like."

"Sure. Why are you being so nice to me?" Lisbon asked, standing up and following him.

"You look like someone who needs it," he told her simply.

She had to agree to that.

They started by going over the parts of the car, and Lisbon discovered that she knew more than she thought. It was actually kind of fun, and Lucius was a good sport about it. Sure, he'd laugh when she didn't know something, but so would Lisbon. He went solo on the more complicated things, but allowed her to help him with everything else.

"Well," Lucius said after they were done, "it's fixed."

Lisbon looked at the old clock hanging on the wall. "In only two hours."

"I suppose that since you helped with the repair..." he started slowly.

Lisbon raised an eyebrow. "Go on," she prompted.

"...I could cut the price."

She couldn't contain herself. "Yes!" she shouted. "Thank you so much!" She hugged Lucius.

"You're welcome," he replied with a laugh once she'd let him go. "Does this count as a good memory?"

"What are you talking about?" Lisbon asked, confused.

"You said I had more good memories than you, like you were implying that you didn't have very many. Is this a good memory?"

"It will be once I'm done living it," Lisbon vowed. "Really, I have a lot of good memories. But..."

"But what?"

"They just don't seem to matter to me anymore. It's hard to explain."

"Has your friend called back yet?" When she shook her head, Lucius went on. "Then you have time to figure out how to explain. Trust me; you'll feel a lot better."

Lisbon took a deep breath, and everything just seemed to pour out of her. She went back to the beginning, leaving nothing out, wanting someone to understand. When she finished, she was surprised to find that she hadn't shed a single tear.

"Do you still love him?" Lucius asked.

"Every second," she whispered.

"Then you'll find him. I'm sure of it." He paused for a second. "So you live in Sacramento?"

"Yes."

"My assistant is from Sacramento. I wonder if you've ever met him. His name is—"

Just then, the phone in the office rang. "Oh, that's probably my friend. Can I check?"

"Go ahead." As Lisbon stood up, Lucius saw something fall out of her pocket. She was already hurrying to the phone and hadn't noticed. "Miss Lisbon, hang on!" He picked up the small photo and turned it over. His blood ran cold. "Miss Lisbon!" he yelled at the tops of his lungs.

She stopped in her tracks and faced him. Seeing him examining the picture, Lisbon walked back to him. "Are you alright?"

"Is this him?" Lucius asked her, handing her the picture.

"Yes, it is. Why? What's wrong?"

"Just... wait a minute, please." Without waiting for Lisbon's response, Lucius made his way to a battered telephone in the corner of the garage. He picked it up and a hit a button. Lisbon couldn't hear what he was saying, but the conversation didn't last long. When he hung up, Lucius returned to her.

"What's going on?" Lisbon demanded.

"Just watch that door right over there." He pointed to the very back of the garage. The door was very nondescript; it just looked like... well, a door.

"Why?"

"You'll see."

Sure enough, the door opened a second later. "What is it, Lu? I'm busy—" When he saw Lisbon, his eyes widened. He dropped the rag he was cleaning his hands with. It floated gracefully to the floor.

The world fell away. Lisbon could only see the figure staring back at her from across the room. Her legs were as weak as a newborn foal's. She could hardly breathe. She didn't want to breathe – a puff of air could dissipate the moment and she would wake up to find out it was all a dream.

She heard her name whispered, as if the speaker was unsure of himself. Lisbon took a wobbly step forward, then another. Then she was sprinting toward him. She collided with her target, sending him into the wall. Nevertheless, she felt him embrace her as tightly as he could.

"I knew you would find me," his voice murmured.

"Why didn't you come back?" she asked against his chest.

"I was scared. I was scared that you hated me."

"I don't hate you." Lisbon chanced a look up at him. He hadn't changed at all. Blonde hair, blue eyes, bright smile. This was undoubtedly Patrick Jane. "I love you." She kissed him then, incapable of waiting any longer, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him closer.

Lisbon had found him. They were together and nothing could pull them apart again. She knew in her heart that he would stay with her for the rest of her life.

"Patrick," she said, "can we go home now?"

"Yes. You, my dear, need food and sleep first."

"And I want to hear it," Lisbon put in.

"Hear what?"

"Your story. What happened while you were... gone."

"That's for another time. I'll tell you when you're healthy again."

"I'm fine," she protested, pouting.

"Ah, there she is," Jane said, smiling at her warmly. "My Teresa."

"I was always here. Now you are, too. And it had better stay that way, am I clear?"

He chuckled. "Crystal," he said, kissing her again.

A/N: Yays! Please tell me what you thought, please, please, please! I would appreciate it muchly. I'm watching the DVR version of the Royal Wedding... just amazing.