A/N: This is it, last chapter! Thanks so much for following along for the ride, especially all you amazing reviewers out there. You guys are awesome.

xxx

At Lisbon's request, the FBI transferred the Red John case back to her team. Wainwright smoothed it over, agreeing to give the FBI partial credit for bringing down Red John by citing 'cross-agency collaboration' as a key element of the plot that had ultimately resulted in his downfall, even though (as Jane said rather indignantly), technically, the FBI hadn't contributed so much as a single lead to the case in the scant week they'd had ownership of it. The FBI had agreed readily to this compromise, recognizing this was their only real hope of claiming any share of the glory, since it could hardly be denied that it was the CBI that had ultimately found Red John and brought about his demise. Besides, from the FBI's perspective, now that the key figure in the case had been killed, there wasn't much to be gained by fighting to keep hold of it except a lot of tedious follow up work and paperwork. So they gave up the case willingly enough, and the SCU began the task of dismantling the final remains of Red John's empire.

It took them two months to take down Brett Stiles. The fact that they didn't know exactly what they were looking for had slowed them down a little bit, but having a clear idea of where to look, they just kept looking until they found it. It, in this case, being evidence that Brett Stiles had helped Red John kill at least four people, and had helped him recruit his helpers through the expansive reach of Visualize. It turned out that Stiles was the key to tracking down most of Red John's disciples – he'd been the primary recruiting agent, and was the only one who had a true sense of the extent of Red John's network. Visualize itself crumbled pretty quickly after Stiles was arrested, and they were able to track down thirteen more accomplices associated with the organization, plus another eighteen in various government agencies. Only a few of these individuals knew each other, but Stiles was able to provide their names and most recently known whereabouts for the promise of life in prison instead of a needle in his arm.

Lisbon made the last arrest herself. This was really because she happened to be on the scene when Rigsby had called her to tell her they'd finally connected some suspicious activity in some of Visualize's financials to the man they now knew to be Red John, but Jane said it was only fitting that she be the one to make the final arrest. This was nonsense, of course, but the rest of the team seemed to agree with him.

There had been a lot of press coverage over the death of Red John, and the CBI had gotten a lot of attention as a result of it. Jane figured prominently in many of the news stories, but it was not Lisbon, but Van Pelt who was cast in the role of heroine to his tragic hero. The media called her CBI's avenging angel, the brave agent who'd been deceived by a traitorous fiancé and then taken down Red John with a bullet between the eyes. Lisbon was glad for Grace, because she knew what a boon that kind of media attention could be for a young agent's career. The rest of the team, however, seemed to think Lisbon had been somehow cheated of her fair share of the credit for the plan that had ultimately resulted in Red John's downfall. Grace in particular felt guilty for 'stealing her thunder,' as she put it, but Lisbon assured her truthfully that she was just as glad not to be the poster girl for the media storm associated with this particular case. She didn't care who got the credit for taking Red John down, she was just glad it was over. She only hoped this meant that the 'St. Teresa' moniker would be retired at last. She'd always hated that nickname.

Still, she had to admit it felt good to make the arrest that – barring the emergence of any new evidence—would close the Red John case for good.

Two days later, she signed the final report with a satisfied flourish.

She looked over at Jane, reclining on her couch with his eyes closed in his standard attitude of repose, his hands folded on his chest and a half smile on his lips. He'd been spending a lot of time there lately, just as he had done during their great deception. She watched him for a moment, feeling a sudden rush of affection sweep over her at the sight of his familiar form. She was glad he'd decided to stay. She hadn't really allowed herself to acknowledge how afraid she'd been that he would just walk away, now that it was over, or how much she truly wanted him to stay, but now that two months had passed since Red John's death without Jane betraying any indication that he had the remotest inclination to leave, she was finally starting to let herself believe that he really wasn't going anywhere.

Her eyes traced over the golden lashes, the softly parted mouth... he had a beautiful mouth, she thought. More expressive than he was probably aware. Over time, she'd learned that his mouth tightened ever so slightly when he was angry or upset, even when he had his most bland poker face in place. She could even distinguish between his smiles, these days, though those had taken longer to master. He had several distinct ones. There was the classic charm smile, of course, which he used most frequently when trying to con someone into doing something that he wanted. She was more familiar with that one than she liked to admit, and she had to acknowledge that she wasn't entirely immune to it, even when she knew he was trying to manipulate her. There was the 'I'm pleased with my own brilliance' smile, which she usually longed to slap off his face for him. Then there was the one she liked even less, the vindictively pleased one that appeared when whichever murderer or similarly despicable criminal realized they'd been had by one of his schemes. But he also had one that seemed to be reserved for her. That one was a close cousin of the charm smile, but there was something a bit softer about that one. Something… happier.

She was probably kidding herself about that. Probably every woman he ever directed his charm smile to thought it was patented just for her. Still, there was no denying that the full lips had a particular power over her. She remembered the feeling of those lips pressed tenderly to the side of her neck and flushed at the recollection. She was unable to stop herself from wondering if they would feel as soft under her own mouth, if she were to take leave of her senses and walk over to the couch and press her lips to his to wake him.

Coming back to herself with a start, she realized that she'd been sitting there idly musing about what it would be like to kiss Patrick Jane for the better part of a minute and a half.

Alarmed by the trajectory of her own thoughts, she stood abruptly and fled for the break room to escape her own overactive imagination.

Cho was there, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Hey, boss."

"Hey." She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, with a vague thought that having something cool to drink might soothe her agitation.

Cho jerked his head towards her office. "Jane in there?"

"Yeah. Sleeping, for a change," she said with a roll of her eyes.

He looked at her with his usual stone-like expression. "When are you going to cut him a break?"

Lisbon paused with the water bottle halfway to her lips. "Excuse me?" She wasn't used to people accusing her of being too hard on Jane. If anything, no matter how much she yelled at him, most people seemed to think she was too lenient towards him.

"When are you going to give him a break?" Cho repeated.

"Well, I am letting him sleep on my couch," Lisbon said, disconcerted. What was Cho's problem? Suddenly it wasn't okay to make fun of Jane for sleeping at work?

"That's not what I mean."

"What *do* you mean?" she asked, now thoroughly perplexed.

"He's been trailing after you like a puppy for ages."

She choked on her water. "*What?* No, he hasn't," she spluttered.

"Yeah, he has. It's starting to get pathetic. You need to either throw the poor bastard a bone or tell him he's never going to get what he wants from you."

"What does he want from me?" Lisbon said, aghast.

"Love. Marriage. Twelve babies. How the hell should I know?"

"Jane and I aren't like that," Lisbon said weakly.

"I know you aren't. But you both want to be, so what's the hold up? I could understand it when Red John was alive, but he's out of the picture now. Haven't you wasted enough time?"

Lisbon opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

"Think about it," Cho said, and went back to his desk.

Lisbon retreated back to her office, forgetting that its current occupant was what had precipitated her escape from it in the first place until the door closed behind her and she was once again faced with the sight of Jane stretched out before her.

Without opening his eyes, he inquired, "Did you bring me any tea?"

It took a moment for her to recover, but she managed it before a too suspicious interval of time had passed. "Get your own damn tea," Lisbon huffed in a reasonable approximation of her most annoyed tone. She was rather proud of herself.

Jane, however, wasn't fooled. He opened his eyes and assessed her expression with a critical eye. "Hm," he said, standing up and stretching. He stepped towards her and peered at her closely, looking her up and down and then allowing his eyes to come to rest on her face as he gave her a long, searching look.

"What?" Lisbon said, feeling self-conscious.

"I was just wondering something," he said idly.

"What's that?" she asked irritably. He was standing entirely too close to her.

"Just wondering if you're ready."

"Ready for what?" she asked warily.

"Ready to move to the next stage of our relationship," he said, as though commenting on a topic as mundane as which sandwich shop they should go to for lunch.

She drew back. "What stage of our relationship?"

He gestured between them, unfazed by her stiffened posture and strained tone. "The one in which we finally admit our attraction to one another and more importantly, act on it."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Were you eavesdropping on my conversation with Cho?" she demanded.

He stopped. "No. Why? Wait—don't tell me." He grinned. "Cho was pleading my case on my behalf?"

"No," she said unconvincingly.

He beamed at her. "Good old Cho. Glad to know I can count on him in matters of the heart. I'll have to send him a bottle of Scotch on our anniversary."

She raised her eyebrows. "When is your anniversary with Cho? I'll send you guys a card."

"Very funny. I was referring to *our* anniversary, yours and mine."

"We don't have an anniversary."

"Not yet," he agreed. "But I'm thinking about this time next year, we will."

"Yeah, right."

"So you're still insisting on denial, eh?" Jane shrugged. "You can deny it all you want, but we both know that you're attracted to me."

"I am not," Lisbon lied.

"Come now, you have to admit you've been thinking about what it would be like to kiss me more and more now that Red John is dead and I've proven to you that I have no intention of wandering off."

"No, I haven't," Lisbon said stoutly.

"Yes, you have," he said, noting her high color. Poor Lisbon. That Irish skin gave her away every time. "Just as I have."

"I told you, I have not—" she stopped. "As you have?"

"Of course. You're a very beautiful woman, Lisbon. I doubt there are many men of your acquaintance who haven't wondered at least once what it would be like to kiss you."

"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed.

"I personally," he continued, as though she hadn't spoken, "have spent quite a bit of time pondering the subject."

She swallowed. "You have?"

He nodded. "I have. And you've been pondering much the same thing regarding yours truly, or you wouldn't have almost kissed me in the park that day before I pretended to shoot you."

"I didn't almost kiss you!" she spluttered. "You almost kissed me!"

"Who almost kissed who is irrelevant now," he said breezily. "The point is, we almost kissed, so it's ridiculous of you to continue denying that there is an attraction between us."

"Okay, so maybe there's an attraction," she acknowledged grudgingly. "That doesn't mean it's a good idea to act on it."

"Why ever not?"

"Don't you think this is a bit… sudden?"

"We've known each other for nine years, Lisbon. Glaciers move more quickly than you and I have."

"You know what I mean. Red John only died two months ago. You're still figuring out what you want. In those terms, it's not entirely unreasonable to think you might need some time."

"I beg to differ. I don't need time. In fact, I've been waiting for you to come around for awhile now."

"*You've* been waiting for me?" she said incredulously. "I'm not the one who's spent the better part of a decade mourning the loss of my wife and child as the result of a terrible tragedy."

"You're not the one who has spent the better part of a decade healing from that tragedy with a brave, caring, and not entirely unattractive agent of the California Bureau of Investigation by your side every step of the way," he corrected her.

She brushed this aside. "My point is, I'm not the one that needed to be waited for."

"Certainly, you were. I needed to wait for you to adjust to the fact that I wasn't going to leave after Red John died and to acknowledge to yourself that you'd like more from our relationship than platonic friendship."

"You've been waiting for me to acknowledge that to myself?"

"Yes, and I've been very patient. Frankly, I think it's a bit selfish of you to try to deny me what I want after I've waited so patiently. In fact, I should probably get a medal of some kind for the restraint I've shown."

"I'm denying you what you want, huh? What is that, exactly?"

"I'll settle for a kiss, to begin with."

"A kiss?" she echoed. Her palms were suddenly clammy. He seemed serious.

"Yes, Lisbon. A kiss. On the lips. Right here, right now."

"Now?" she squeaked.

"Now," he repeated firmly. He stepped closer to her, invading her personal space even more than usual, and bent his head halfway down to meet her, and then stopped, poised above her, but no longer moving closer.

She stared at him. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be waiting for some action from her. Did he seriously think that she was going to—

"Whenever you're ready," he said calmly, without opening his eyes.

"Jane," she said softly. "I'm not so sure this is a good idea."

"Fine," he said, but he didn't move from his expectant stance above her.

"You're not moving," Lisbon pointed out.

"Neither are you," he said, unfazed.

He had a point.

"Lisbon, it's entirely up to you," he said, his eyes still closed. "If you are not remotely interested in exploring this thing between us, if you have absolutely no curiosity about what it would be like if we kissed, then go ahead. Walk away. If you do, I'll never mention it again. I'll never flirt with you, never kiss you, never say I love you. If anything is going to happen between us, you've got to meet me halfway."

She scowled. Ever the manipulator. God, it figured he'd be just as insufferable about this as he was about everything else.

He continued to stand there, the lines of his face utterly free of tension, and that beautiful mouth just inches away from hers.

To hell with it. She rose up on her tiptoes to meet him and tentatively touched her lips to his.

He sighed into her mouth as though in relief, and kissed her back. All thoughts of reason, of caution, left Lisbon's head. Nothing mattered except getting closer to him. His hands wove into her hair and then one dropped to the small of her back, drawing her nearer. She leaned into him and her own hand found its way to the back of his neck, and soon they were devouring each other, unable to get close enough. Their stomachs and chests were pressed together, and they stood thigh to thigh, but it wasn't enough. They stumbled to the couch together, mouths still working frantically against one another.

Just before they fell upon on it together, Lisbon grabbed Jane by the vest and pushed him down first, climbing on top of him and attacking his mouth once again.

Then she stopped, looking down at him. His eyes were pools of black once again, his lips softly parted. And he seemed to be having a similar reaction as the last time she'd climbed on top of him.

"We seem to have been here before," Jane remarked, drawing his finger down her side.

"Just to be clear," Lisbon said, somewhat breathlessly, "we are NOT having sex in my office." And then she leaned down and kissed him again.

Jane arched up underneath her, dipping his head to press a long kiss to her exposed collarbone. Her shirt seemed to have become half unbuttoned somewhere along the line. "Thanks for clearing that up," he panted, seemingly unable to catch his own breath. He raised his head to kiss her again, drawing his fingers through the dark silk of her hair.

She leaned her head back and shivered slightly when he kissed the side of her neck. "I knew it," he murmured triumphantly.

"Knew what?" Lisbon said vaguely, unable to focus clearly when he was doing that to her neck.

"I knew you weren't faking it, before," he crowed, his smugness only slightly less unbearable because he was kissing his way down her neck and below with each word. "I knew you would never have agreed to pretend to be in a relationship with me to fool Red John unless what you were pretending to feel towards me was at least a little bit real."

Lisbon rolled her eyes despite herself. Apparently he was still just as capable of being a jackass as ever, even if he did kiss like a god. "You," she said, pausing to appreciate the truly exquisite sensation of his mouth moving down the soft skin of her chest, "are an idiot." If he wasn't, he'd have realized she wouldn't have gone after him in the first place if she hadn't been at least half in love with him even then.

"I was smart enough not pass up a chance to do this every chance I got, wasn't I?" he said, lifting his head to taste the smooth column of her neck again.

"Yes, you were very smart," Lisbon said indulgently, and bit him on the ear.

"I get the sense you are mocking me," he muttered, drawing her head back down for another long kiss.

"That's because you're very perceptive," she said, then deepened the kiss.

After a moment, she could feel him smiling into the kiss, and she frowned back into it. That wasn't his happy smile. It was his self-satisfied smile. "Now what are you smiling about?" she muttered against his lips.

His smile grew wider. "You."

She drew back. "What about me?" It seemed that this new phase of their relationship would be just as replete with suspicion as the previous one.

"Nothing, keep kissing me, woman."

She sat up. "Tell me."

He rested his hands on her hips and leaned forward to kiss the v of white skin just above her partially unbuttoned shirt. "Fine. Just… never go to Vegas, Lisbon."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

He raised his head and kissed a corner of her downturned mouth. "You believe every bluff anyone sells you."

She bit his lip in retaliation. "I do not."

"Oh, please," he said, licking his lip where she'd bitten him. "Like there was any chance in hell that I'd have let you walk away from me."

"What are you talking about?"

"That whole 'meeting me halfway thing?' A total con. I would have tricked, schemed, and lied to get closer to you if you'd tried to walk away. There was no way I was going to let you escape."

"Then why-?"

He interrupted her with another kiss. "Forty years from now, I want to be able to tell people how you initiated our first kiss of your own free will. That in fact, I was just standing there innocently when you basically threw yourself at me like the hoyden that you are."

She gasped in outrage. "You bastard!" She punched him in the arm, then kissed him again. "You're going to pay for that."

And then she climbed off him and calmly started buttoning up her shirt.

Jane sat up, alarmed. "What are you doing? It's just a joke! I'll tell people that I tricked you into kissing me, if you want."

He stood up, looking decidedly rumpled, and reached for her again. "I'll tell them that I hypnotized you and you weren't responsible for your own actions. Just come back to the couch."

She slapped his hands away. "I told you, Jane, we're not having sex in my office." She turned towards him and yanked him closer to her by with a tug on his belt.

Jane, master of biofeedback that he was, couldn't help being affected by this action that seemed to be in direct contradiction to her words. She smirked, and started buttoning up his shirt, in turn, which had also become unbuttoned. Jane watched her, feeling more turned on by her dressing him than he had been even when she'd been undressing him. Of course, that part had been a bit of a blur, focused as he'd been on other things, like cataloguing every sensation of her mouth against his in a new and much prized addition to the memory palace.

Belatedly, he realized that Lisbon was laughing at him.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Nothing. Just thinking that maybe you should lay off the trips to Vegas, too."

"Why should I lay off the trips to Vegas? I could buy you a house with my winnings after three hours in Vegas," he boasted. Then he stopped, arrested by the image of himself doing just that. What kind of house would Lisbon want? Nothing too ostentatious, like his old mansion. Perhaps an old Victorian house. Old fashioned, but charming and somewhat romantic on the inside. He was so engaged in mentally remodeling this hypothetical house that he would buy for her that he almost didn't catch that she was talking again. He refocused.

"I don't think it's safe for you to go to Vegas," she was saying. "You could lose your shirt. Have you always been this much of a sucker?"

He froze. "What?" No one had ever called him a sucker before. He wasn't a sucker. He was the con man, the one who laughed and profited from the unsuspecting natures of the suckers.

She pulled a key ring out of her pocket and grinned. "Seriously, Jane. You let a total novice lift your keys just because a 'not entirely unattractive CBI agent' batted her eyelashes at you?"

Jane stared at his keys in her hand. "You pickpocketed me?" he said incredulously.

"Yup." She looked incredibly pleased with herself.

"Why?"

"I told you, Jane," she said patiently. "We are not having sex in this office." She patted him on the butt. "Come on, Paddy. I'm driving." She kissed him again, long and hard, and then sauntered out of her office without a backward glance.

He gave her a ten second head start, and then went after her.

xxx

The End.