And... This is it, kids. I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed writing for this fandom, or how much I'm gonna miss these guys (and you all!) now that I'm done. There is, as I'd mentioned before, definitely a sequel to this story, but I won't be able to begin posting until at least December, as my own novel comes out on December 1st. November's pretty much about publicity and getting all my ducks in a row for that, so there's not a lot of time for fic. But I'll definitely be back!

In the meantime, if you want to support my RL writing (and by extension, my fic writing, because if I don't have to work six jobs to pay the rent while simultaneously writing novels, then I have that much more time to devote to ff :)), you can visit my website at www[dot]jenblood[dot]com - or follow me on Twitter, at www[dot]twitter[dot]com/jenblood.

And finally, just a quick note to all of you who were kind enough to leave feedback, to let you know just how much I appreciate your encouragement and kind words. LittleMender, Chiisano Minako, Kaoh, deeleigh, TeresaLisbonCBI, AngryLittlePrincess, visagoth, mwalter1, aekz, williwaw, Lcsaf, Belle-irina, piratemonkey06, crzychigurl343, xanderseye, and so many others - It's been a pleasure writing this, and your feedback has made my day (and sometimes my week) on more than one occasion. And to my Mentalist-obsessed, fangirl compadre lizook: Thanks for the phenomenal reviews, the sharing of squee, and the rambly e-mails that help to assure me that I'm not alone in this fangirl world. Love ya, Chica!

And now...

Epilogue

Lisbon called three weeks to the day after Tommy's death. Jane knew for a fact that she had spoken with the other members of the team during the time she'd been gone, but she made no such effort with him. He wasn't hurt by it, really – he understood the impulse to create some distance, in many ways. On his darker days, he wondered if she would ever be able to be in the same room with him again, without thinking about Ellie Jennings, and her brother's torturous final days.

But then, she called. It was nearly midnight and he was at home, though of course he hadn't been sleeping.

"Hey, it's me," she began.

He felt an unmistakable jolt at the sound of her voice.

"Lisbon! Well, hello."

"Hi."

There was a long silence. Jane shifted on his couch, picturing her in Chicago – in one of her brother's houses, no doubt, in her t-shirt and her ponytail, her forehead furrowed in thought.

"Lisbon?"

"Yeah – uh, sorry. I just… I just wanted to call, and thank you for the flowers."

"Of course." He'd sent a bouquet of lilies for the funeral – nothing extravagant, but it was at least some kind of gesture in lieu of actually being there for her. When more silence ensued, Jane finally prompted her. "I suppose it's silly to ask how you are."

He could almost hear her shrug. He wasn't terribly surprised at how solid she sounded when she finally spoke.

"I'm all right," she said. "It's been good being here. Seeing the boys and the rest of the family… I think it's the first time we've all been together without wanting to kill each other since my mom was alive."

"Tragedy has a funny way of doing that," Jane said.

"Yeah. It does."

He knew that she spoke from experience. It was one of the reasons he'd been so drawn to her all this time – the fact that she came from such a hellish background and still managed to be extraordinary on so many levels made it impossible for him to become mired in his own self pity without seeming completely pathetic.

"I'm sorry I didn't call after the trial," she said.

"Eh – you had a lot going on. I understood."

"Still… Quite a coup." In his mind's eye, he pictured her shaking her head at him. "Defending yourself on a murder charge after fleeing the country, and getting off with nothing but a fine and a little community service? Is there nothing you can't talk your way out of?"

"It was easy once they bought the self-defense plea," he said.

"Yeah, I'll bet."

In fact, it hadn't been easy at all; the past three weeks had been wrought with doubt and misgivings and the very real belief that he was destined to spend the rest of his life in prison. Once, not so long ago, that had been an acceptable outcome – making Red John pay for the murder of his family was enough, and he was prepared to take whatever was handed to him in judgment.

Now, suddenly, he found himself not quite so willing to accept that his life had effectively ended with Red John's death. When he'd heard the jury pronounce him not guilty on the charge of murder, and then gift him with what amounted to a slap on the wrist for breaking out of jail and leaving the country, he hadn't quite believed his good fortune.

"So, do you have a date for when you're returning?" he asked, unwilling to spend anymore time on the topic.

"Tomorrow, actually."

He grinned despite himself. "Tomorrow – really? That's good news."

"Is it?" There was a definite hint of that old Lisbon suspicion in her voice.

"Of course. Cho is good at his job, but he's no Teresa Lisbon. There's almost no time for naps… And I get no extra credit from him for bringing in hot coffee or bear claws."

She laughed at that. Someone shouted to her from the other room. She put her hand over the phone, but he could still hear her call out to them.

"I'll be out in a sec."

"Where are you?" he asked, once he knew she was back.

"James' place. He's got three kids besides Anna Beth, plus we've had a couple cousins staying around… It's nuts here."

"Yes, but where?" he persisted. "Where in the house, I mean?"

"The bathroom," she admitted reluctantly. The mental image made him smile. He resisted the urge to ask what she was wearing, though it was difficult.

"But it's still good to be with family?" he guessed.

"Surprisingly, yeah," she agreed. She hesitated a moment. "I miss home, though. It'll be good to get back to work. See everybody again."

He grinned, recognizing that he played at least some role in that 'everybody.'

"I'm sure everybody will be glad to see you, too," he said. "I believe everybody has missed you a great deal."

He pictured her blush, the embarrassed roll of her eyes.

"Yeah, well… I'll be back tomorrow, and back to work on Tuesday."

"Do you need someone to pick you up at the airport?" he asked, the thought just occurring to him.

She hesitated for a good ten seconds. "I – uh, yeah. I do, I guess. That's kind of why I was calling."

"Ah. Well… I'm happy to do it."

"Good – maybe we could talk then."

She definitely wasn't going to make this easy. "Lisbon, I told you – there's nothing to talk about. We're fine."

"Are we?" she asked, the doubt plain in her voice. "Because I've gotta tell you, Jane… I still feel a little weird about everything."

"Well, you shouldn't. Whatever happened – "

There was another rapping on the door.

"I'll be out in a second, dammit!" Lisbon shouted, this time just barely getting her hand over the phone before the words were out. Jane winced, pulling his own phone away from his ear.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," he said, once she was back on the line. "But honestly, Lisbon, there's nothing to worry about. We're both adults."

She scoffed at that. "Yeah, right. I just want to be able to get back to the CBI and get back to work, without having to worry about… Stuff."

"Stuff?" he smirked.

"You know what I mean."

And another knock on the door.

"I swear to God, Jimmy, if you don't – "

"Lisbon, I'm hanging up now. E-mail me your itinerary, and I'll meet you at baggage claim."

"All right, yeah. And, Patrick?" She paused a moment. "I really have missed…everybody."

He couldn't squelch his face-splitting grin. "I'll see you tomorrow, Teresa."

Mondays meant Jane's weekly knitting session with Rachel Fellows, back at the CBI – though since he'd only been back a few days himself, this was his first appointment with the good doctor since the previous month's olfactory breakthrough. He strolled into her office five minutes late, munching on an apple. Rachel looked up from her knitting, motioning him to the sofa.

"I heard Teresa's back tomorrow," she said, straight off. Jane worked very hard to school his face into an impassive mask.

"Yes, I heard," he said.

While he'd been incarcerated this last time, Rachel had come to see him twice. Though he had been less than forthcoming about his and Lisbon's misadventures, he had the uneasy feeling that the woman had correctly guessed much of what had transpired.

"You're picking her up at the airport?"

Jane helped himself to her basket of knitting, selecting the same blue yarn he'd started with last time.

"You're very nosy," he said.

She smiled at that. "I know. It's a curse."

Her eyes fell to his left hand. After Lisbon left, he'd put his wedding ring back on – more because by not doing so, he was sure to invite questions and speculation from everyone on the team. It felt odd, though… As though it wasn't quite the right size anymore; like he was trying to fit into a suit he'd outgrown some time ago. He resisted the urge to play with the gold band, and began knitting instead.

"What's your story?" Jane asked suddenly. "You're the one who was all about how conversation is supposed to be a shared experience… Why don't you share something for a change?"

She didn't seem at all surprised by the request. "What do you want to know?"

"Your 'partner,'" he said, making air quotes with his fingers as he indicated a photograph of Rachel with a very attractive black woman, set facing away from him on her desk. "I've seen her somewhere before. How long have you been together?"

She looked up from her knitting and met his eye. "Three years now."

His surprise must have shown on his face.

"You thought longer?"

"You look very close. And you seem like a woman who's been with someone a long time."

"We've known each other a long time. It was complicated."

Jane considered this, growing more curious by the minute. "You were married before," he said, after a bit. "You have children… And, pardon my saying so, but you're not really of an age where fertility clinics and same sex parenting would have been commonplace."

"I was."

A shadow crossed her face. She grew serious, setting her knitting aside for a moment.

"Do you feel differently, now that Red John is dead?"

It took him a minute or two of careful thought before he answered the question honestly. "Yes. I didn't know that I would… I wasn't really doing it so that I would feel better."

"You were doing it for your family," she said. Her tone implied that she didn't entirely believe that. Jane didn't fight her on it – he wasn't entirely sure he believed it himself.

"And now that Bertram and Ellie Jennings killed Lisbon's brother, emotionally tortured both of you… Where does that leave you in the quest for vengeance?"

"That's not my fight," he said simply.

Rachel arched an eyebrow at him.

"What – you don't believe me? I'll be there for Lisbon, of course… Whatever she wants to do, I'll stand with her. I'll help track him down, bring them to justice as she'll no doubt choose – "

"You don't think she'll be out for blood?"

He shook his head, without a moment's hesitation. "It's not in her. And…" Though he hated to admit it, she'd been right that night when they were in his hallway. "It wasn't the same for her. Angie and Charlotte were my life. They didn't take everything from Lisbon – they took an integral piece of her. But not everything."

"She still has you," Rachel said.

"And the rest of the team, and her job, and the rest of her family," he returned, purposely pretending he didn't know where she was leading.

"And you," she said, more insistent now.

Jane rolled his eyes heavenward. "Yes, fine. She still has me."

They returned to their knitting for a few minutes, before Rachel spoke again.

"She cares about you – more than she'd ever admit. Whatever happened between you in Mexico – " Jane started to deny it, but she held up a hand to shush him. "Please… I spoke to Teresa on the phone last week, and she practically burned up the phone line blushing when I asked what happened between you two. And you can't even look me in the eye. So, clearly…"

He looked at her seriously. "It's no one's business," he said. "You didn't see her while we were out there – she was a different woman. Terrified, injured, completely off balance. She just needed someone there to keep her sane until our showdown with Ellie – however it turned out."

"Someone," Rachel said doubtfully. "Any old someone would do, I suppose."

"Of course not." He was rapidly growing tired of the conversation. "There's no question that Lisbon and I share a bond – even she wouldn't deny that. She trusts me. I trust her. It was…" He trailed off, more and more irritated to be talking about something that seemed so deeply personal to both of them.

"The reason I'm bringing this up," Rachel said, as though reading his mind, "is because I think it's important that you get a little perspective before you ruin this."

"Ruin what? Honestly, old woman, I think you've gone senile. You're not hearing me – it was the circumstances. Lisbon's said as much half a dozen times."

"And you're not hearing me," she said, with a hint of fire to her eyes. "How many people do you think Teresa Lisbon has trusted in her life? I'm not talking about sex, I'm talking about allowing someone into her life – every aspect of it. Allowing someone to see her hurt, actually trusting them enough to seek comfort. My guess is, just about as many people as you have. Probably fewer. So, before you go pick her up at the airport and chalk everything that happened up to 'circumstance,' I'd like you to set your ego aside for just a moment and consider the fact that she may be even more terrified than you are."

"Wait." He shook his head in confusion. He'd completely made a mess of his knitting project – Rachel's grandchildren would have to have hideously deformed elephant feet to fit into the booty he was making.

"Dating within a unit is strictly prohibited under CBI guidelines. You're saying I should just forget that? That Lisbon should just forget that? Because if you are, you clearly have never met the woman."

"I'm not saying take her to the prom, for Christ's sake," she said grumpily. She set her knitting down again with an irritated clatter. Jane squelched a smile.

"She's not ready to date, anyway. Neither of you are. I'm simply saying, don't write off the feelings you have as unrequited."

"Who says I even have any feelings," he said. He sounded petulant and utterly unconvincing.

"Right. My mistake. Well… Do whatever you want, then. I'll just leave you with this – Teresa's not an easy woman, but she is an extraordinary one. And she's worth the extra effort, if you should decide you have feelings that you'd like to pursue."

Jane didn't say anything to that for a bit. Finally, he resumed his knitting once more. He could feel Rachel smiling at him.

"So, we're done?" she asked.

"We're done," he confirmed.

They spent the remaining fifty minutes knitting in silence, while Jane considered her words.

Lisbon's plane came in at seven that evening. Jane found himself unaccountably anxious, waiting for her at baggage claim. He'd considered bringing flowers, but realized that was precisely the sort of sign she'd be looking for – she was likely to turn tail and head back to Chicago if he was waiting with so much as a dandelion, he was certain.

Besides which, he didn't know that Rachel Fellows really had any clue what she was talking about. She was an old woman given to rambling and delusions by her own admission – it hardly made sense for him to put stock into anything she had to say. He and Lisbon were friends. Good friends. The fact that they had shared something more intimate while on the road together under shatteringly stressful conditions notwithstanding, they would remain good friends.

And that was all there was to it.

He felt a slight rush all the same, when he caught sight of her headed to baggage claim. He embraced her before she had a chance to make the moment awkward, and was genuinely pleased when she hugged him back.

"You look good," he said, somewhat surprised to realize that he meant it. There was more sadness to her eyes, true, but at least she looked rested and as though she hadn't skipped too many meals while she'd been gone.

"Thanks."

They stood at the conveyor belt watching the luggage unload in silence, until Jane finally resorted to small talk to get the conversation flowing.

"How was the flight?"

She glanced at him, her dimple showing at his weak attempt to fill the silence. "Fine. I'll be glad to get home, though."

"So, you're going back to your apartment, then?"

For the first time, a hint of the vulnerability he'd seen before showed through. "Yeah," she said. "I've gotta do it eventually, right?"

"You could do it tomorrow," he suggested. "In the light of day, when you haven't been stuck in airports for hours on end."

"Jane," she said – a warning, if ever he'd heard one.

He held up his hands in surrender. "I didn't say you had to stay with me. I'm sure Grace has room at her place, or you could get a hotel… I'm simply saying you might want to get your bearings before going back to an apartment still stained with your brother's blood."

She flinched at that, and he instantly regretted his bluntness.

"Sorry," he said lamely. "That sounded better in my head."

"It's fine, Jane," she said with an unconvincing shrug.

They got her luggage and went to his car in silence. Once they'd put her things in the trunk, he stopped her before she got into the passenger's seat, his hand on her cheek.

"What are you – "

"It doesn't look so bad," he said, indicating the scar on her face – no longer bandaged, but still pink and angry looking. "It makes you look tough."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I'm sure it'll do wonders for my love life."

He stroked her cheek with his thumb, holding her gaze. "I think you'd be surprised," he said, with a bit of a grin.

She blushed clear to her roots.

"Ja-ane," he said, at the exact moment and in the exact same, sing-song, warning tone as Lisbon. She couldn't quite suppress a smile of her own as she rolled her eyes, pulling away slightly.

"Are you gonna drive me home or do I have to call a cab?"

"No, no. I'm at your service, Lisbon. Hop in."

They'd been on the road for a good five minutes before she finally spoke.

"There was another reason I asked you to pick me up," she said. "I wanted a chance to talk to you, away from everyone else."

He wondered idly just how many times they would have to go over this before he was able to convince her that they were all right.

"Teresa, do I have to engrave it on my forehead? We're fine."

"Yeah, I know. That's not what I want to talk to you about," she said unexpectedly. He looked at her in surprise. "Look, I'm not saying that I'm not still a little uncomfortable about what happened in Mexico, but you're right – we're both adults. There was a lot going on… It was bound to happen, considering what we are to each other."

"And what is that, exactly?" he asked, glancing at her with genuine curiosity before he forced his eyes back to the road.

"You know."

"Humor me."

She shifted in her seat. "That's not what I wanted to talk to you about," she repeated.

He let it go for the moment. "All right – what did you want to talk about, then?"

There was a long, distinctly charged pause between them. Traffic was light and the night was cooler than it had been – they drove with the windows down, the breeze blowing Lisbon's hair lightly around her face. She gnawed on her fingernail for a moment, before she finally spoke.

"LaRoche is taking over for Bertram," she said.

"You know that for certain?" Jane asked, though he wasn't particularly surprised.

"Yeah. I talked to Hightower a couple days ago – they'll make the announcement later this week."

"And this is a bad thing?"

"No." She shook her head. "No, it's not that. I'm off suspension from the whole leaving the country with you thing… I've talked to LaRoche, and I've already been reinstated. Things can go back to the way they were."

"Lisbon, you'll need to help me out here. Clearly, you're distressed, but so far everything you've told me sounds like good news for you and the CBI."

She curled into herself slightly, her gaze fixed on the night as it sped past her window.

"LaRoche won't let me work the case," she said – so quietly he had to strain to hear her.

"The Bertram/Jennings case," he guessed.

"Yeah." She shook her head again, her frustration already showing. "He says he saw what it did to everybody, having you work the Red John case. I tried to explain to him that it's not the same thing…"

Jane searched for the nearest exit and got off the highway without saying a word. They ended up in a quiet spot overlooking the city, the lights stretching on as far as the eye could see as the sun set on the horizon. He stopped the car and turned to her.

"This is what you wanted to talk to me about," he said.

She avoided his eye, nodding. "Yeah. I know what you're thinking – "

"And what is that, exactly?"

This time, she met his gaze. Her chin tipped up defiantly. "I don't want to kill them – that's not what it's about. It's about getting them off the streets before they find somebody else to torture. Before they kill again."

"And about making sure your brother didn't die in vain?" he guessed, his voice softer now.

She nodded again, her eyes filling suddenly. She looked away, swallowing past the pain. Though she put on a good show, he realized at once that the loss of her brother had left her far more raw than she was willing to let anyone see. Lisbon didn't do vulnerable terribly well.

"I thought maybe I could get your help," she said, her eyes focused on his hands rather than his face when she made the request. Once the hard part was over, her voice gained strength. "I've been doing some digging… Bertram used to be an administrator at the group home where Ellie and Red John met – that must've been where he spotted them, or recruited them, or whatever the hell it was he did. Another couple of kids went missing there… I think he took them, too. If we can – "

He put a hand on her arm. "Teresa."

She stopped short, looking at him. A stray tear spilled from her eye, but she brushed it away quickly.

"Yeah?"

He studied her closely. She'd been sleeping. She'd been eating. She looked sad, determined – but not obsessed. At least, not yet. He considered his words carefully before he spoke.

"I'll help you – but only on two conditions."

It was clear from the look on her face that she didn't like being in such a position, but eventually she agreed. "What are they?" she asked suspiciously.

"One – when we find Bertram, wherever he is, you don't go after him yourself. We tell the authorities immediately."

Her eyes widened. Though she tried to squelch a grin, she was entirely unsuccessful.

"Oh, now you're laughing at me?" he asked.

"You're telling me we've gotta call the cops?" She shook her head ruefully. "It's official – the whole world's gone nuts. Okay… Yeah, we'll call the cops as soon as we track him down. I told you, I'm not out for blood here, Patrick. What's the other condition?"

He hesitated, Rachel Fellows' words ringing in his head. She's worth the extra effort.

"Jane?" she asked, starting to look uneasy.

"And," he said, arching his eyebrow dramatically, "you don't go back to your apartment tonight."

This time, she laughed aloud. Honestly, she was enough to damage a man's ego irreparably.

"Lisbon."

"You're gonna blackmail me into spending the night with you? That's low, Jane – even for you." Though she'd stopped laughing, she was having a difficult time containing her mirth.

"I was trying to be chivalrous," he said. He threw his hands in the air. "Forget it, woman, it's clearly lost on you. I just think it would be better for you to wait until tomorrow to go back to your apartment. That's all. Once again, your mind sinks to the depths while I'm sitting here with nothing but honorable intentions."

"Oh, I know all about you and your honorable intentions," she said dryly, a sexy little smirk on her face.

"I don't even know what that means, but your implication clearly has something to do with our night of passion, Saint Teresa. I'd think twice before you begin playing that game."

She sputtered and blushed as Jane put the car in gear, headed for his apartment without a second thought.

By the time they reached his place, Jane found himself feeling downright giddy to have Lisbon back. He followed her to the elevator and down the familiar hallway to his loft as she looked around in surprise.

"You cleaned up all the boxes."

"They said it was a fire hazard," he said promptly.

She didn't believe him, but that was all right. She almost never did, anyway.

When they reached his door, she stepped aside to allow him to unlock it.

"Go ahead," he said. "It's open."

She gave him a patented, highly suspicious Lisbon pout, and pushed open the door. The moment she saw what was waiting for her, she broke into a grin.

There, seated at the kitchen table, were Cho, Van Pelt, and Rigsby, sedately playing cards. They looked up with studied nonchalance.

"Oh – hey, Boss," Van Pelt said casually.

"What is this?" she asked, turning to Jane.

He shrugged. "We were in the midst of a card game when I had to stop to pick you up. I didn't mention that?"

"No," she said. "Go figure." She stood watching for a moment as the trio continued to pretend at playing cards. "So – what's a girl got to do to get a hug around here?"

At the invitation, Van Pelt sprang from her chair, while Rigsby and Cho followed at a slightly more sedate – but no less eager – pace. Jane subtly set Lisbon's things in the living room, managing to stifle a smirk when Rigsby slipped him the twenty he'd bet that Jane couldn't convince Lisbon to spend her first night home at his place.

Once greetings had been exchanged, Lisbon took in his loft for the first time. She shook her head at the progress he'd made. It was impressive, he knew – new windows, the furniture all in its proper place, walls and good lighting and a genuinely homey air about it.

"This is incredible – you did this in three weeks?"

"Nice, isn't it? Though I admit I had some help."

"Some help?" Rigsby echoed in disbelief. "More like we did the whole thing, while he was cooling his heels in jail."

"All except the one wall," Grace pointed out, indicating the partially spackled wall in the living area. Clearly, she was still puzzled. "He wouldn't let us do anything to that one."

Lisbon looked at him with a pleased smile. "Aw, Jane… You left that wall for me?"

Jane shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets, shuffling his feet a bit as he ducked his head in embarrassment. "Eh – I suppose I did. It was nothing." Just before Lisbon could be sucked in by his act, he looked at her with the devil in his grin. "Besides, I like it when you come over and spackle my walls."

Rigsby snickered, which prompted Grace to hit him so hard in the arm that he yelped.

"Watch it, Rigsby," Jane warned. "These CBI women are hell on men who bruise easily. The fairer sex my eye."

"So, are we gonna play cards or what?" Cho interrupted, effectively putting an end to the banter.

Lisbon and the others took seats around the table without further invitation.

"What are we playing?" Lisbon asked.

"Texas Hold 'Em," Rigsby said.

"Do you have anything to eat?" Lisbon looked at Jane apologetically. "They didn't have much on the plane."

"Wayne ate all the pizza," Grace said.

"I didn't eat all the pizza," Rigsby argued. "You guys ate some, too."

"Van Pelt got half a slice and I got the other half before you inhaled the rest," Cho said. "I think you've got a tapeworm."

Jane grinned, hopping up from his seat. "You guys play – I'll whip something up. What's your pleasure, Lisbon? I've got eggs, I've got quiche, I've got some leftover Thai from the other night…"

"You've got Thai?" Rigsby asked.

"Seriously, man," Cho said, his eyes never leaving his cards. "You need to see someone."

"What's in the quiche?" Lisbon wanted to know.

"The same thing that's always in quiche," Jane explained patiently. He was aware that he was beaming, but he didn't even care. "Eggs, cheese, bacon – "

"Ooh," Grace interrupted. "That sounds good. Is there enough for two?"

Cho finished dealing the cards while Jane heated the quiche, dumping the remaining Thai food on a plate and microwaving it for Rigsby. As he was washing up before rejoining the others, his wedding ring slipped off into the sink. He retrieved it and held it in his palm for a moment as though weighing it – thinking of what it meant, all that it had symbolized for him all these years. He thought of Angela and Charlotte, and for a moment the memory of their laughter washed over him.

When he looked up, he realized that Lisbon was watching him. He glanced at the gold band that had ruled his life for nearly two decades, then set it carefully on a shelf above the sink. Lisbon got up and joined him at the sink.

"You're looking very thoughtful."

"I'm happy," he said, only realizing the truth of the statement as it left his lips.

She raised her eyebrows at him. He realized that it was probably inappropriate to make such a declaration after what she'd lost, so he hurried to explain himself.

"Not about the outcome of the case, of course. Or what you had to go through... But happy that you're back," he said. "And that you're all right."

"And that you're not going to prison for the rest of your life?" she teased.

"To be fair, that does play a part."

"Well…" She hesitated, as though not certain whether to risk whatever it was she was about to say. "I'm glad you're not in prison for the rest of your life, too."

"Oh? Would you miss me, Lisbon?"

"I'd miss the cases you close," she said promptly, stifling a smile.

"That's just cruel. There's nothing about me personally that you'd miss? My roguish charm, my winning smile, my devil-may-care attitude?"

"Hmm…" She pretended to think about it for a long moment. "No, I'm pretty sure it'd just be your close rate."

"That stings, Lisbon." He leaned in closer, looking at her with purposeful danger in his eyes. "Well, I'd miss you."

"Are you gonna ante up or what, Boss?" Rigsby asked, putting an end to the moment before it had even begun.

"Yeah," Lisbon nodded quickly, looking at once relieved and - Jane was almost certain - just a little bit disappointed. "Sorry." She returned to the table and tossed a couple of pennies to the center of the table.

The game resumed.

Jane brought the food over, setting a plate in front of Van Pelt and another in front of Lisbon, lingering for just a moment when he caught the scent of cinnamon and cloves in her hair.

Van Pelt kicked Rigsby under the table.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Dude, did you just smell her hair?" Cho asked.

Lisbon's subtle blush of pink went crimson. "No, he didn't."

Van Pelt was desperately trying to call Rigsby's attention to the notable lack of a ring on Jane's finger, though Rigsby was still rubbing at his bruised shin.

"What?" Jane asked innocently. "Lisbon's hair smells good – a man can't smell someone's hair without it being made a federal case?"

"You never smelled my hair," Cho said.

Van Pelt tugged at her own ring finger, looking significantly at Rigsby. The poor man just looked baffled, until Grace finally shook her head in frustration.

"How can you be a CBI agent and be so clueless?" she huffed.

Rigsby merely shrugged, diving into the plate of Thai food Jane had set before him.

"If it means we get to come over and you feed us, you can smell my hair anytime you want, man," he said.

"You know who else would probably smell your hair if you let him, Boss," Van Pelt said. She looked at Jane meaningfully, and he glowered back at her. "Detective Montrose."

Lisbon looked up in surprise. "He's still hanging around?"

Cho and Rigsby exchanged a glance. "Probably not now," Cho said.

She looked at Jane. "What did you do?"

"Me?" he asked, his eyes wide with innocence. "I don't know what you mean. Someone may have given him the impression that you hadn't weathered the Bertram debacle quite as well as you have – "

"He told him you went nuts," Cho said. "Seriously, if we're not playing, I'm going home."

"You told him I had a breakdown?" Lisbon demanded, though he noted that the glare she gave him was hardly her worst.

"Meh – just a small one. If he's so squeamish he'd let a little stay in an asylum keep him from you, he's not the one, anyway."

Lisbon heaved a mighty sigh. The rest of the team looked at her expectantly, waiting to see how this would turn out. Finally, she picked up her cards.

"Are we playing or are we talking?" she asked.

Cho tipped his beer against hers gratefully. "Thank you. Let's move it along already."

Jane took a seat in between Cho and Lisbon, playing his hand without paying much attention to the game as it unfolded. Instead, he focused on the sounds of laughter and banter that filled his new kitchen; on the fleeting, subtle glances that Lisbon cast his way; on the odd sensation that he'd somehow been set free of a great burden.

He would help Lisbon, and they would find Bertram and Ellie Jennings. He didn't know how, and he didn't know when, but this time he knew that it wouldn't be about blood oaths or vengeance. It would be about good, solid detective work… And perhaps a little bit of vengeance. He grinned at the thought. And maybe, just maybe, somewhere along the way he could convince Lisbon that he was good for more than just closing cases.

Until then, though, he found himself astonishingly content with the present. The future was anyone's guess, but tonight Jane had a beautiful – albeit stubborn – woman by his side, good friends at his table, and a new puzzle in need of solving.

They would be all right.

FIN