Author's Note: And here's the end. Sorry for the delay—the 7x10 promo threw me for a loop and it took a while to get back to the right headspace for this. Thanks to everyone who's still reading, especially those who let me know what you thought!

Chapter 4: Jane

Fortunately nothing today requires more than a modicum of my attention, so I spend most of it on my couch pondering. And napping. By the time Lisbon's ready to leave, I've come to the conclusion that Abbott might be right. I'll take off the ring when we get home and see how it goes. Maybe at first I'll just leave it off when we're on our own time, if it's too hard to get used to.

I wonder how long it will take Lisbon to notice? The more it's been bothering her, the faster she'll spot it.

We usually take turns hosting our sleepovers, so tonight we head for the Airstream, stopping for takeout along the way. While Lisbon is in the bathroom, I take off my ring, rolling it around in my palm for a few seconds. I smile, remembering Angela's expression when she put it on my finger.

This ring was given to me as a sign of her love, but I turned it into a sign of my guilt. It was what I needed to do to survive, but I regret it. It's only now that I am loved again that I realize how much I kept myself from remembering the good times. And they are worth remembering.

I carefully put the ring in the glove compartment, where it will be safe and Lisbon won't stumble across it.

We don't talk much over dinner; she's still a little cranky. Doubtless she thinks Abbott is on my side. He is, of course, but he sympathizes with her. I think she'd be happier if she realized that. "Abbott told me not to screw this up," I remark. "He said I'd never do better than you."

She snorts into her drink. "But he didn't tell you to calm down and let me do my job."

"Not in so many words. He did tell me that since I am asking you to give something up, I'd better make it worth your while."

"Oh?" That gets her attention, and she puts her beer bottle down to look at me.

"Which I plan to do." I keep my expression serious, holding her gaze.

Then I get up and take her hand, gently pulling her to her feet and into my arms. I press her against me and lower my mouth to devour hers, gratified when she responds with equal fervor.

I don't think it through, don't plan, don't try to impress her. I just let the raw passion inside me express itself, desperate to be with her, be in her. In no time she's naked beneath me and I'm surrounded by her heat, drunk on how this feels.

Afterward, I collapse in a sweaty, breathless heap, my brain unable to goad my body into further movement.

Slowly coming to my senses, I try to roll off her, but she holds me in place. Once I've settled again, she runs her fingers through my hair, humming a little. "Not that I'm complaining," she says when she catches her breath, "but what was that about?"

I nibble on her shoulder, and she rolls us onto our sides. "I've been thinking about risk," I say. "And living with it."

"Yeah?" She leans back to look at me, her eyes worried.

"Yeah." I comb a few stray strands of hair off her face. "And it seems to me that if I accept that any day could be the last one we have together, I have to make each day as good as I can. And each night." I trace her cute little nose with a fingertip, then stroke her cheek. "Because every sunrise might be our last. And I don't want the one who's left behind to regret any wasted opportunities."

"Patrick," she whispers. Her eyes shine as she reaches up to pet my hair.

"If it's me..." I break off to swallow hard, struggling for composure. "If it's me, I want as many memories of making love with you as possible. And if it's you, I want there to be no doubt in your mind that you were loved, fiercely and unreservedly. That you made my life joyous again. That the best part of my day was your smile and my favorite place on earth was in your arms. That your happiness was my dearest wish and highest goal. And after I'm gone I only want you to remember the good times, not the bad."

She sniffs a little and gives me a light kiss. "And if you're the one who's still here, I want you to remember that whether you believe it or not, I'm watching over you, and if you do anything stupid, I will find a way to kick your ass."

That is why she's sweetly sad instead of frightened at the thought of losing me: she doesn't think death is a permanent separation. She doesn't know what it's like to have absolutely no hope of seeing someone she loves again.

She has no idea how terrible life without hope is.

I'm not certain of the exact entry requirements to her church's version of heaven, but I'm pretty sure I don't meet them, so there's a flaw in her logic. But I'm not going to point it out. She might need the comfort someday.

Of course, maybe saints get some kind of two-for-one deal and she's planning to use her extra ticket for me.

"So you'd be the angel on my shoulder?" I tease her. "I much prefer the little devil in my bed."

She grins, sliding her knee between mine. "Good, because I'm not planning on giving up my spot. It took me too long to get here."

"Mm. Yes, it did," I agree, twisting one dark curl around my finger and admiring its softness and strength as I gently unspool it. Then I run a finger from her bare shoulder to her elbow, amazed that her skin is so smooth over her sleek muscles. This is the essence of Lisbon: strength hidden in beauty. No wonder she can't fully understand that under my own surface there is no iron core, only an unstable mess of fault lines. One more temblor and it could all crumble.

"You're usually so far ahead of everyone that it, uh, sometimes it's hard for me to remember that I need to be patient with you when it comes to the personal stuff," she says softly.

I slide my hand in hers. "I'm trying," I assure her.

"I know." She kisses me softly, playing with my fingers.

I sense the instant she notices the vacant indentation on my ring finger. She sucks in a sharp breath and freezes, then picks my hand up to look at it. "Where's your ring?"

"The glove box," I reply. "Seemed like a good safe place for it, at least until I figure out something permanent."

"You...you're sure you're ready?"

"So far, so good," I say. I fold my hand around hers and kiss it. "I want you to feel sure of me. I'm all in, Teresa. Nothing held back."

She whispers my first name, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"And I know it surprised you that I didn't have a plan for us, but I'd like for us to come up with one. Together. Because my future is with you, Teresa. I want to make a home with you."

"What happened to sailing around the world?"

"We need to choose something we both want," I tell her. "But you haven't said what you want, other than your job. The only thing I have to go on is that drawing you did in your closet when you were little: a happy couple with their little house and a baby and a dog. Is that still what you envision a happy life to be?"

She's very still; she's even stopped breathing. Her eyes lock onto mine, and she searches desperately for something there. She must not find it, though, because she scoots down to tuck her face in my neck and murmurs, "I gave up on that a long time ago."

"That's not an answer," I point out.

She's quiet for a long time, and I wonder if she's not going to give me an answer at all, at least not tonight. I know her answer, of course, but it's important for her to say it. She can't have any doubt that the path we choose is truly a mutual decision.

"I...I'd like to have a home together, yes," she says finally. "Maybe a little bigger place than my house."

"With a bigger kitchen," I agree.

"If you want. And a bigger yard. For if we end up with a more regular schedule and decide to get a dog."

"I'd like that," I say. Company for her on her morning run, a little added security for the house, something happy and loving to add joy to our lives.

There's one element of the picture she's reluctant to address, afraid of what I'll say. We already disagree about our jobs, and she doesn't want to open a new source of conflict. But we're not as far apart as she might think.

"You don't need to tiptoe around the question of children, Teresa. It's hard for me to talk about, yes, but we need to be able to talk about anything."

She lifts her head to look at me. "Do you...have you thought about having another child?" Her voice is soft and warm, trying to soothe the hurt she's afraid her question will cause.

"Not a lot," I admit. "The idea of being responsible for a child again is terrifying. I...can't guarantee I wouldn't be a paranoid mess sometimes. But I think I could handle it, because I'd know it wasn't only up to me. And the one person in the world I'd trust to protect my child is you."

She smiles, trembling a little as it sinks in that yes, she can have her dream after all.

I need to be honest about my motives, though. I smile back, then kiss her gently. "But you know having a baby will mean major life changes."

Lisbon nods. "Yeah. Of course. But I can keep my job."

"Not really," I say.

"I know I'll need to go on desk duty while I'm pregnant, but afterward there's no reason I can't be a field agent." She frowns at me.

"Except that the minute you look down at that helpless little person in your arms with my eyes and your mouth, all your priorities will shift. And you'll realize that you're not willing to take any risk that will leave our little miracle motherless."

She blinks, surprised that I'd go there.

"I remember the first time I held Charlotte. It...turns your life upside down. No matter how ready you think you are, it still hits you like a lightning bolt. Your life is no longer your own. Now it's about this child. I know you'll feel that, maybe even more than I did." I swallow. "That's why I think I can do it, Teresa. Because doing what's best for our child means caring more about your own safety. You'll do it for the baby, even if you won't for me."

She looks stricken, reaching up to lay her hand on my cheek. "I do think about my safety for you, Patrick. I'm not careless. I don't do anything I think I can't handle. I know being with you means I...have an obligation not to cause you pain if I can help it." She sighs. "Look, Abbott agrees with you. He's going to talk to Cho. I won't be sidelined, but they both know that if they want you able to work, I have to be okay. You don't need to worry so much about keeping me safe, because you're not the only one thinking about it, okay?"

"Good to know." I'm not outsourcing her safety, even to Cho. But I think this is as much progress as I can expect in one evening. I need to let her think about the future and what she really wants, now that she has something to hang on to besides her job.

She sighs a little, knowing I'm not really okay with the compromise. But then I've never been good at accepting anything except what I really want. "And I'll think about what you've said. I will."

"Thank you." I kiss her again, more deeply this time.

We will work this out and find something that makes both of us happy. I'm more confident of that than ever. And if it takes a while, well, I'm sure it will be worth waiting for.

We settle in to fall asleep, her hand over my heart and her breath puffing softly against my neck. I turn my head toward her, nuzzling her hair, and close my eyes. "Sweet dreams," I whisper.

"Mm. You too," she yawns. A minute later she's asleep.

I hope she dreams of a nice house in a good school district with a yard and a dog and a swingset, a home she's happy to leave work promptly at 5 to get to, knowing her husband will have dinner on the table at 6 and her son is waiting for her to play catch with him until he has to set the table.

And I hope I dream about meeting her at the door every night with a welcome home kiss, not having to pretend I didn't spend the day worrying about her. And every night we'll watch the sunset together and be grateful for another day of the wonderful life we lead.

We're so close, I can almost taste it. I just hope we get there soon.