Disclaimer: I'm somewhat your average Canadian living in Texas. I guess that means I don't own The Mentalist.

~The Sacred Simplicity of a Moment~

Happy Birthday June! (You know who you are!)

…

For the past seven years he spent his life in complete misery, questioning why it was him who went through it all. Some people would argue that fate was the only one responsible for that night's happenings. Some would argue that it was him who caused it; this was especially pressed onto him by his brother-in-law, the younger man completely loathed him to bits and wished him to his demise.

His demise, the only thing he could not do. No matter how many times he tried, he could not bring himself to end his own life. There were several instances where he held the gun to his temple, sat in his Citroen inside the garage, or held the knife to his forearm. Not once could he summon up the courage to kill himself.

Courage, he laughed at the thought of even having one ounce of it inside his very being. He was the man that ran away at the sight of a gun. He was the man that hid behind a woman smaller than he was when things got ugly or unpleasant. What kind of man was he? A sorry excuse for a man possibly?

No, if he were a sorry excuse for a man he would not be here, right now preparing to wrap his arms around the stunning beauty before him. The woman was none other than Teresa Lisbon, the woman he often hid behind in times of trouble. There was no more denying that his love for her overpowered everything.

Tonight he planned to show her, after they showered.

Earlier this evening they had found Red John, standing before them with the blade in his hand. He was prepared to do himself in, raise the knife to his own throat and slice through as if it were nothing. Of course, in the end he did die by his own doing, but not before taunting Jane first.

Every word, every sentence that was spoken caused Jane's heart to constrict. Fresh tears poured down his cheeks as his vision blurred. Murderous thoughts leaked into his head, as he tried to pick the best strategy to take this man down as easily and swiftly as possible. Jane did not have to open his eyes to see the madman before him grinning with such great pleasure, his body moving up and down as he took great joy in his taunting.

Eventually he had had it. Without any reservations he reached down and took hold of Lisbon's glock 9mm. It was surprisingly easy to take it from her, but the way her voice sounded when he pointed it in the direction of Red John, it was almost heartbreaking. She pleaded for him to put the gun down, to hand it back to her and just stop. He denied to do so, shaking his head and not once glancing over at her. He saw tears form into her eyes and it surprised him greatly. Of all the things that he had seen happen to her, she cried over him holding a serial killer at gunpoint.

"It's your choice to make," she eventually stepped back, eyes growing cold with disappointment, "You can do the right or the wrong thing, Patrick."

It was the usage of his first name that shocked him, that made him lower the weapon onto the ground. He did not release it, as a precaution because of the madman before them. He had barely turned back to her, catching a hasty glimpse of her eyes before he turned back at the sound of tearing flesh.

Slowly Red John had brought the blade to his neck, putting pressure and raking it over the delicate flesh of his throat. Blood seeped through, spilling out over the blade and falling over his gloved hands. Specks first fell onto the floor, only droplets before gravity caused the rest to spill down along with it. Jane had stepped back, watching as Red John's eyes grew lifeless and his body grew pale from the blood loss. With a matter of seconds after he fell to the ground in a lifeless heap, was he gone.

Patrick Jane could not believe it. Before him was once a "legendary" serial killer. Now he lay before him, body still fresh and warm yet only a lifeless corpse. Behind him a breath hitched in a throat. Slowly turning around he saw the brave state agent, arms now crossed over her chest and shoulder hunched upwards. She took one hesitant glance up at him, no doubt wanting to know if he was "okay".

Not at this moment.

He was tired, she was tired. After Red John's death they hovered around the scene, giving their own versions of the suicide. When Jane had finished he sat on the bumper of the Chevrolet Suburban, only about two feet between him and Lisbon. She now had a blanket wrapped around her petite body, trying to keep herself warm in the crisp November air of Sacramento California.

"You okay?" he had asked her softly.

From the corner of his left eye, he saw her head slightly nod, "I think I should be the one asking you that," she turned to flash him a certain smile. The corners of his mouth turned upwards when he moved his head back down, his eyes landing on the loose piece of stitching on his pants.

That night had changed everything for them. When they had both gotten back to her apartment, she had offered him a cup of tea. Accepting the offer, he moved to lean against the kitchen counters to watch the woman making him his tea – his style he might add. While she made it, he took the time to glance around in her natural habitat. When he was here last, he remembered seeing the shelves with all the mixed up music, the desk with all the opened and unopened letters. He remembered seeing the pictures of her three younger brothers and the art displayed above the desk – the ones from the last tenants – and last but not least, the laundry scattered in random places.

Nothing seemed to have changed here, and it felt nice for it to be like that.

From his space near the counter, he watched her shift and reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Nervously, she chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes shifting to look over her shoulder in his direction. It was a rare sight to see Teresa Lisbon nervously chewing on her bottom lip. Usually she would begin sorting or cleaning profusely, but instead she took up a classic habit that most normal people had in more tense situations.

Screw the shower.

Wordlessly, he moved fluidly towards her. Standing behind her, he reached over and took the kettle off the stove, moving it off and onto the cool burner, "Jane, what are you—," he reached down and flicked the switch off, allowing the metal coils to begin their cooling, "Jane?"

Delicately he spun her around. Slowly his hands moved up to cup her chin into his hands, "Teresa," she did not let him finish what he was going to say next.

Lisbon pushed herself forward, pressing her lips firmly against his. His eyes widened, not expecting her to take the first move this time around. The feeling of her lips pressed against his was a wonderful feeling, he felt himself grow lost and his eyes slipped shut as his hands moved down to wrap around her wait to pull her closer. She gasped, hands snaking up to lightly touch his jaw. Jane barely moved his head down, kissing her lower lip before moving back up to once more capture her lips in another powerful kiss. Lisbon's legs nearly gave out on her as she lowered her hands to clasp onto his shoulders. Her mouth opened as his lips left hers, slightly pecking her jaw and moving to the back of her ear. She threw her head back, her hands tightening their grip onto his suit jacket.

"Patrick," she breathily gasped, twisting the material of his jacket in her hands in an effort to bring his body closer to hers.

Oh how he did not want this to stop. His senses were filled with her. He could feel the heat radiating off her body, the feel of her skin against his lips, the smell of her hair, and the leftover cinnamon body lotion she had used earlier that day. Teresa Lisbon was someone he could never resist ever again, there was denying what he truly felt towards the petite state agent, and right now she was practically surrounding him.

"Patrick!" she sounded again once he pressed his body closer to hers, drawing a deep breath from her, "please."

He stilled, pulling back to glance down at her. Slightly pulling away, he took his right hand and barely ran it down the curve of her soft cheek. Tenderly, he leaned down and caught her lips into a soft, loving kiss. She slipped her eyes shut, one hand running up his bicep to clutch onto. Their lips slowly moved together, eyes both shut, hands both caressing. He softly turned her around, moving her out of her small kitchen area. He wanted to do this somewhat right, and the kitchen floor was surely not the right place for it. He wanted to show her how much he loved her, and he wholeheartedly planned on doing such.

…

Her head rested on his shoulder, both their bodies sore and aching from their previous activities. Their breathing both hard yet soft, their hearts still beating frantically in each others chest. Slowly, he turned his head to look down at her and smiled, taking his hand and softly running his fingertips down the apple of her cheek. Lisbon turned her head up, smiling softly at him. Jane leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead then pulling back to brush the rebellious fringe away from her face.

"So beautiful," she shifted underneath him, not feeling accustomed to hearing that, which he hoped to change, "I'm serious."

She shook her head, rolling more onto her back, but still keeping her head on his body, "No, you're just saying that," the large smile branded on her features surely betrayed her. She liked it, it made her feel nice, loved, and like a woman after so many years of working with the CBI and other law enforcement offices.

"No, I'm not," he brushed his hand along the side of her face once more, "I love you," her eyebrow furrowed as she slightly pulled away from him. She raised her head off his body and looked directly at him, "I mean it, Teresa, I love you," her lips parted and her eyes searched his. She placed her hand onto his chest, softly caressing.

"You do?" he nodded at her, taking her hand into his and bringing her fingertips up to his lips.

Pressing a delicate kiss on every fingertip, he told her all she needed to know, "I do," and now that Red John was out of the way, he felt like there was nothing keeping him from saying that to her anymore. Nothing held him back or attempted to restrain him from finding love again, even if the love he was somewhat looking for again was no one other than Teresa Lisbon.

Tears formed at her eyes, her irises shifting to look up at the ceiling just to think things over somewhat. The next thing she had wanted to say was supposed to be so simple, yet it was also one of the most sacred things she could ever say in her entire lifetime. It would not only change her life, but also Jane's…the man she loved. But hearing the words escape his mouth at this time, made her both happy and yet sad. She spent her whole entire life trying to look for "prince charming" and a few years ago, she had a random thought that she may have found him – and that scared her to bits. Now here he was.

"I love you," she whispered, gradually summoning up the courage deep inside her, "I love you too."

It was all so sacredly simple.

Again! Happy Birthday June (You know who you are!)

Reviews are very much embraced and welcomed :)