A/N: I thought this might go an additional chapter, but I re-evaluated and saw that this was a good place to end this particular story. I hope it is satisfactorily concludes this arc, leaving me room to continue on when I am next inspired. This chapter is dedicated to the Lisburn fans…

Chapter 7: Conclusion

They had slept maybe an hour when Lisbon was awakened by the sound of the front door clicking. Being the cop that she was, she was especially attuned to such noises, and rarely slept deeply for long. So when she heard her door, she bolted up in her bed and automatically reached for the gun she kept beneath her mattress. Jane was still asleep, so she climbed quietly out of bed, creeping out of her room completely naked, her gun held out before her. She stopped short when she saw the roses on the kitchen table.

Walter had been here.

And then, of course, she knew that he knew.

Dammit.

She lowered her weapon to her side and went to the closed blind to peep out of one slat. Sure enough, she could see Walter getting into his car, start it up, and drive away. She hung her head. She'd never wanted to hurt him like this. She didn't want him to think she'd been using him, but she began to seriously wonder if she really had been—maybe not consciously, but unconsciously, especially at first. Walter had boosted her ego, allowed her to step into a fantasy world where anything was possible, yet still leave with her heart intact. Ultimately, he'd helped her to see that Jane was who she really wanted, but there was no way she could ever thank him for that. She owed him something, but didn't know how to go about paying him back.

Lisbon heard the slight creaking of her bed, then Jane's footfalls in the hallway. She turned to see him a minute later as he stood before her, caught off guard by naked Lisbon in the living room. With a gun. A slow, sensual grin spread across his face.

"I've had some fantasies before, but nothing ever remotely like this."

He had put on his boxer shorts, and Lisbon felt herself flushing at her state of undress. "I uh, heard a noise."

Jane caught sight of the bright red bouquet. "Awww…" he said knowingly. He walked the last few feet to her, took the gun from her hand and set it on the coffee table, then took her into his arms. She hugged him back, laying her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry he found out this way, Teresa," he said, trailing a gentle hand up and down her bare back. "You know, if you'd turned to him, I would have been devastated and possibly suicidal, but at least I would have been comforted to know you were with a guy like Walter. And I think he might have changed his womanizing ways for you. I know I have."

She smiled into his warm skin. "Yeah...right. Still, this isn't the way anyone should lose a bet."

He pulled away and lifted her chin with one finger. "We weren't betting, Lisbon. We were having a gentleman's competition, and I'm happy to call you my prize." He kissed her lightly on the nose, grinning at her obvious annoyance at that characterization.

"But Walter—"

"—will be okay. Trust me."

She smirked. "Yes. Because that's always worked before."

His soothing hands had begun to make naughty forays between their bodies to cup and to caress her, punctuating his words with kisses on her neck and face.

"Walter's a girl in every port kind of guy. And, while admittedly he realized you are special, worth more of his time than the supermodels and socialites he normally dates, he knows deep down he really wasn't the man for you."

"I suppose you're going to tell me that you are the man for me?" But her voice was shaky with new desire, and her knees had begun to go weak as he pulled her closer against his arousal. He shrugged.

"Only time will tell, Lisbon. After all, I'm not really a psychic. I just played one on TV." They smiled as their lips met, and their mouths parted, taking each other in.

Sunday afternoon, Lisbon drove to Walter Mashburn's mansion, just north of San Francisco. She stopped at the guard station, flashing her badge to the man on duty.

"Agent Teresa Lisbon, CBI," she told the guard. "I need to speak with Mr. Mashburn, please."

She wasn't sure Walter would see her, so she wasn't above using her identity to make sure that he would. The guard waved her on through. She drove up the winding drive, remembering the last twenty-four hours as if it had been a dream. She and Jane hadn't left her apartment until earlier this morning. They'd spent the whole time in bed or snuggling on the couch, alternately making love or watching old movies. Her shower wasn't as large as the West Wind's, but they'd made do. She learned that Jane could cook one thing very well: omelets. He'd used the meager contents of her fridge and freezer to make small, gourmet masterpieces, both for dinner the night before and breakfast that morning. Supplement that with ice cream and fresh strawberries, and they were both in gastronomical heaven.

Lisbon blushed to think of the things they'd done, the pleasure they'd found in one another's arms. She was a little sore, but sated, and when he'd left earlier, she hadn't wanted to let him go. She'd actually teared up as she watched him walk to his car. He'd turned around halfway to the parking lot to look back at where she stood at her door. I love you, he'd mouthed.The sunlight had made his eyes bright blue, his beach boy looks-wild, sun streaked hair and laid back smile-made her want to run across the lawn into his arms. But she couldn't do that. It was too public, too rife with the danger of people she knew finding out about them. So she'd mouthed her reply and waved, knowing they would see each other bright and early Monday morning to begin their life of secrets. Well, of more secrets.

But now, she had to face Walter. She owed him that much, she figured, given his efforts to woo her, and the unfortunate way he'd found out about her and Jane. His assistant led her to the heated pool in the back yard, where she watched Mashburn swim several laps before he noticed she was there. He swam to the side, huffing a little with exertion.

"Teresa. Good to see you. Just attempting to drown my sorrows, as you can see."

She was suddenly a bit tongue-tied, especially when he pulled himself out of the pool, revealing his tall, lean body and Speedo bathing suit that left little to the imagination. She tossed him a towel from a table nearby, and he stood dripping as he dried off, then grabbed his terry cloth robe from the back of a lounge chair. He nodded toward the patio furniture, and she sat down.

He grabbed two beers from an ice bucket, and handed her one. She opened it gratefully and took a swig for courage.

"I'm sorry, Walter," she said softly, noting how he was having difficulty looking directly at her.

He smiled a little. "Don't be. All's fair in love and business, I like to say. I knew coming in that Jane was a force to be reckoned with, and you two have history on your side. I should have known better, but you know how hard it is for me to back down when there's something I want."

She returned his smile. "Yeah. I've noticed. Still, I hated that it ended this way. You're a good man, Walter. I hope we can always be—"

"Don't you dare say friends, Teresa. What—did you come all this way to twist the knife?"He clutched at his chest melodramatically. She was relieved that he was making jokes instead of acting maudlin or angry.

"The roses were beautiful," she ventured awkwardly. "You're such a thoughtful guy."

He waved off her compliment. "Nah, just part of the overall get Lisbon back into bed strategy. Sorry I didn't get a chance to use them. Those babies work every time."

"I'll bet. I want to thank you, though, Walter. It was so flattering to have two handsome, charming men fighting over me. I've never felt so desired in my whole life."

"Well, that should never have been the case. You should always have men throwing themselves at you, making fools of themselves in Moroccan caftans." He laughed at himself, shaking his head and taking a long draught of beer.

"You weren't foolish at all. It was very complementary, like I said…"

"Oh, Teresa, I've always been a fool for love. Witness my less than stellar record where marriage is concerned. But ya know what? I thought it could be different with you. You and I…there was something there…a spark I haven't felt in a long time."

"Yes," she acknowledged. "Yes, there was. And we acted upon it. And if Jane and I hadn't…well—I could see you and I together, Walter. It would be fun with you, but I don't think you're a long-term kind of guy, no offense."

He cocked his head at her, extremely surprised at this particular insight. "Really? You don't think I could commit to you long term?"

"I'm sorry, but no. A girl's got to look at a man's track record. Just like the perps I see every day, past is prologue. You look at their criminal record as a good indicator as to what they are more likely to do again. Sorry for the criminal comparison, but that's what I know, and I think it proves true for most people, even the innocent ones."

Walter grinned. "Oh, and I never claimed to be innocent. You're a wise woman, Teresa. That's why I wanted you. That's why if things don't work out between you and Patrick, I'll be happy to be there to pick up the pieces. After I kick his ass, of course."

"Thanks for that, Walter. But if he breaks my heart, you'll have to get in line."

They looked at each other, a peaceful kind of understanding between them. "I'm curious though, Teresa, as the proverbial friend. How do you two plan to work this out, what with the CBI regulations and all? Aren't you doomed before you even begin?"

"Maybe. Love will find a way, I'm hoping."

"Awww. So it's love then, is it?"

Lisbon blushed and nodded. "Yes. I didn't want to hurt you by saying it. But I do love him, Walter. I think I have for a long time. You think I could let go of a man like you if love weren't the issue?"

"You're a treasure, Teresa Lisbon. I hope to hell Patrick appreciates you. Given his history, I wonder if he'll be any better at commitment than I am."

Lisbon secretly wondered the same thing, but she had to trust what she was feeling, take a risk, or she'd kick herself the rest of her life. "There are no guarantees, Walter. I guess I'll just have to summon up some faith here." She took another drink of her beer, set it down, and rose to leave.

She leaned over and kissed Walter softly on the lips. "Thanks for everything, my friend. And just so you know, you were the best one-night-stand I've ever had."

His hand came up to press the back of her head, bringing her lips back to his, invading her mouth with a hot, persuasive tongue.

"Ditto, Agent Lisbon," he said to her wide eyes. He felt acute satisfaction that she'd automatically kissed him back. Take that, Patrick, he consoled himself with a smile.

She grinned at his audacity. "Good bye Walter."

"See ya around, Teresa."

He watched her walk away, chugging his beer until it was gone. Then he reached over and finished hers, too.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Three days later, Walter Mashburn stepped out into the morning sun on his way to the airport. His phone rang and he fished it out of his breast pocket.

"Sir, there's a delivery for you here at the gate. Says it's from Patrick Jane from the CBI."

Curious, Mashburn grinned a little into the phone. "Well, send it on up."

While he waited, he made a quick business call until the loud rumble of an approaching truck made it impossible for him to talk. He put his phone back and stood in awe as a diesel cab pulling a flatbed trailer came to a stop in front of him. Its cargo was a car—but not just any car. The driver hopped out, lowering a ramp on the back of the flatbed. He climbed up, disengaged the safety blocks, got into the car, and slowly backed the vehicle down the ramp.

"Holy shit!" Mashburn said under his breath as the vehicle came to life. The driver had a huge grin on his face as he pushed open the wing-like doors and stepped out before Mashburn.

"I never thought in a million years I'd be behind the wheel of one of these babies. She purrs like a kitten, doesn't she?" He presented Mashburn with a receipt, the keys to the car, and an envelope with his name written on it in a flowery hand.

Mashburn was so shocked that he couldn't even muster a thank you. He just pulled out his money clip and absently slapped a few bills into the delivery man's hand. Seeing the cash, the man thanked him wholeheartedly, got back into his truck, and lumbered away, leaving Mashburn to ponder the 2003 Lamborghini Murcielago , jade green, parked before him. He remembered the envelope and opened it to find a simple, white card.

Dear Walter,

Please accept this consolation prize as a poor substitute for the true beauty you have lost. It's not nearly as sexy or as warm as Teresa, but hopefully it will afford you a different type of pleasure. Enjoy it in good health, my friend.

Patrick Jane

Well, Jane was right about it being a poor substitute, but Walter Mashburn was nothing if not pragmatic. He'd lost the girl, but gained a Lamborghini, and it only hurt a little that the color of the car exactly matched the color of her eyes.

THE END

A/N: Thanks so much for sharing your thoughts and giving me such wonderful encouragement. I'll be taking a little break from this fandom for a while to focus on my other love, "Moonlight." If you like my writing, and liked that great though short-lived show, click on my name and check out my "Moonlight" fics. They're my babies! Or, if you have never seen "Moonlight," get ye to Netflix or to a video store and rent it! (Then, come back and read my continuing fics. ;) But, who knows, I might be inspired to write a "Mentalist" episode tag here and there—depends on the shows to come. I do foresee more fics for this fandom in my future, and it is mainly thanks to your support. See you soon!