A/N: Okay guys. Last chapter! I hope you like this one, because I do.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Chapter 21: Drive-In Movie Theater

"He's dead," Lisbon said softly into the phone as she watched the coroners and forensics rush around the crime scene.

"Who's dead, boss?" Grace Van Pelt asked frantically.

"Red John." Lisbon glanced up and met Jane's eyes. He was standing beside her, and when her eyes lifted to his, he smiled and brushed his fingertips along her forearm. It was his way of saying, I'm really not mad at you. I promise.

There was silence on the other end for a few long beats. Lisbon heard Grace release a long breath before she finally spoke. "Is Jane okay?"

"Yes, Jane's fine." Teresa smiled at the man in question and watched his grin widen. She knew that he secretly loved to know that there were people who cared about him. "He's right here, if you want to talk to him."

"No, that's alright. I don't want to overwhelm him," Grace replied. Lisbon heard her swallow before continuing. "Was he arrested?"

"Jane? No." Lisbon was briefly puzzled before finally understanding. "Oh." It was her turn to swallow hard. "Grace, it was me."

"I don't… oh!" Grace stammered. "Well, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine too."

"I'll be home tomorrow, boss. You can fill me in then."

Teresa smiled again. "Okay, I can't wait. We all miss you."

"Believe me, I miss you all too. This hasn't exactly been a pleasant family vacation."

"I know," Lisbon murmured. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Grace." Lisbon hung up the phone and looked at Jane. "She's sweet."

"Yes, she is," he replied with another smile.

"Jane," she said. "We need to talk."

"Here?"

"No." She crossed her arms as the coroners wheeled one of the body bags toward the van. Her eyes flitted to Jane's again, to see if he was watching the coroners, but he didn't seem to notice them. His own eyes were fixed on her. "Maybe you could come to my apartment."

"Maybe I could."

They stared at each other for a few moments longer before Lisbon finally cracked a smile. "Alright then," she said, amusement coloring her tone. "Six o'clock?"

"Six o'clock." He grinned back.

"I should probably go deal with Bertram." As soon as she said it, her heart sunk. She really was not looking forward to that. What would she tell him? She wasn't even sure how or why Jane had found Red John in the first place. They hadn't even dug up Red John's true identity. Without even realizing, she reached up and touched the necklace Jane had given her as she stared off into space. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his grin widen, and her head snapped in his direction. "What?"

Jane nodded at her hand. "It's almost a habit now."

She looked down at the hand that was toying with her emerald jewelry. "What is?"

"I've noticed it for a while now, but I chose not to say anything." He took a step forward and brushed his fingertips along her arm again. "When you are thinking hard about something, most often worrying, you subconsciously reach up and touch the necklace." He dropped his arm. "When things are bad, you reach for your crucifix, like when something reminds you of your mother, or your childhood." Jane quickly moved past that subject. "But when it is something irrelevant, you reach for the emerald."

Lisbon tried to ignore the fact that her cheeks were burning, and she was sure that Jane noticed. "First of all, this is not irrelevant. This is serious. I just shot and killed two people; one was a wanted serial killer. And the other… well, I still don't really understand who she was. Not only did I kill two people, but I also did it without anybody knowing where I was, what I was doing, and I entered the house without a warrant. So no, Jane, dealing with my probably-angry boss is not irrelevant."

Before she knew it, a warm pair of lips silenced her before she could continue ranting. She allowed herself a short two seconds to indulge the moment before reluctantly resting her hands on his chest and pushing him back gently. "Hello. We're at a crime scene, surrounded by people who know where to find the probably-angry boss in question."

Jane brushed the fingertip of his index finger along the bridge of her nose and she let out a sigh. "Relax," he breathed, smiling. "Nobody saw." He gestured around them, and she found that he was right. The coroners and forensics were too wrapped up in their work to notice, and if they had, they weren't letting on. Cho and Rigsby had already left, thank heavens, and were on their way back to the CBI.

"Still," she grumbled.

"Are you complaining?"

"Not at all," she blurted before she could stop herself.

Jane chuckled. "Is there a second of all?"

With a quick glance around, she stretched up on her tiptoes and planted the briefest of all kisses at the corner of his mouth. She smirked and pulled away, turning and walking toward her car.

"You are such a tease," she heard him whine as she strolled (or hobbled) away from him.

X

Six o'clock sharp was when the knock came on her door.

She laughed and hopped up from the couch, turning off the TV and walking toward the front door. She found herself nervously playing with her hair, and then she just rolled her eyes and threw open the door.

He stood in front of her with a large brown paper bag wearing jeans, a flannel, and a bright smile. He raised the paper bag. "I bring Chinese."

She stepped aside to let him pass and watched as he set the bag on her kitchen table. She allowed herself to admire him as she shut the front door slowly. "What are you wearing?"

His smile faltered ever so slightly. "What do you mean?" He glanced down at his attire. "Is this not suitable?"

Oh, it is most definitely suitable. "No, it is," she said. "I just didn't know that you owned jeans." She bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Or, you know, a shirt that isn't a vest."

"I know what you mean." He smirked. "I didn't really picture you as a sweatpants kind of girl."

Her face flamed when she realized what she was wearing. When she had arrived home, she had thrown on a pair of baggy grey track sweats from high school and a Chicago Bears sweatshirt with every intention of changing into jeans and a T-shirt before her company showed up. Well, apparently that had slipped her mind.

"What did you expect? A prom dress?" she quipped. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"I am not disappointed in the slightest," Jane assured her. "In fact, I find it extremely sexy."

She rolled her eyes and reached for the brown paper bag.

"So, I'm guessing we eat now and talk later?" Jane presumed.

"Yes. I'm hungry."

X

Not only was the meal itself delicious, but Lisbon also found herself enjoying Jane's company. Even when they weren't saying anything, even when basically the entire meal passed in silence, Lisbon was enjoying having Jane present.

After they were finally finished and their bellies were full, Jane got straight to the point. "Alright. Spill."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You said you wanted to talk. Let's talk."

"Okay, but you get to choose the subject we discuss first."

He laughed. "How many subjects did you have in mind?"

"Just two." She smiled.

Patrick crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair with a smirk. "Ah, let me guess." He brought his index finger to his chin, as if he were thinking. "Red John, and… us."

"Now I know why they called you Boy Wonder," she said sarcastically.

"Well, if we must talk about Red John I would rather get it over with. So let's begin with him."

"I killed him."

Her blunt approach didn't seem to faze him. "That you did. Bravo."

"No, seriously. You're not mad at me?"

"Would it make a difference to you if I was?"

For some reason, his words stung. Had he been lying earlier at the crime scene? "Not really," she admitted, looking down at her folded hands in her lap. "I mean, I don't regret saving you, nor do I regret killing him. Even if you were mad, I wouldn't regret any of it. But still, I hate it when you are angry with me."

Never in a million years had she ever thought that she would be confessing this to Jane. Judging by his expression, neither had he.

"Do you?" he challenged.

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Yes. I do."

He stared at her. "Well, you're in luck. I am truly not angry with you. But why do you hate when I am upset with you? You don't seem to care when anyone else is angry with you."

"You're different. You're a flight risk."

He studied her expression, probably to see if she was joking. She wasn't. "Is that what you think?"

"Yes," she answered boldly.

"You think I would just take off, leave you here?"

"Absolutely. You have threatened to do it before."

"That was a long time ago."

"But there's no difference!"

Jane leaned forward on the table and looked her in the eyes. His blue eyes were so sincere that she was a bit startled. He had his guard down. She had only seen him like this a handful of times, and each time it scared her. "There is a difference, Teresa," he whispered. "The difference between then and now is that now, you are in love with me."

Her jaw dropped. "What are you-"

"I thought I would ease into the second topic." He smiled sheepishly. "Turns out I'm not really easing."

She tried again. "What are you talking about?"

He glanced around nervously, and she took a mental photo. Patrick Jane, nervous? "I see the way you look at me," he said softly. "You don't look at anyone else like that. And maybe I'm mistaken. Maybe I am making a complete ass out of myself right now and you are going to kick me out of the apartment any second. But you should know that when I look at you, it's like… complete tunnel vision. I can't see anything else."

She was speechless.

She didn't know what to think.

So she just stared at him, like a complete fool.

"Am I wrong?" he asked.

She tried to look away but he held her gaze, and she couldn't avert her eyes.

"No," she finally answered. "You're not wrong."

With a satisfied look on his face, Jane stood from the table and placed a hand on the back of his kitchen chair, dragging it to the other side and sitting down next to Teresa. She stared at him, wondering what he would do next. "Can I help you?" she teased.

"I like you, Teresa."

"You mean you… like me, like me?"

"That's very mature."

"So, are you going to take me to the drive-in movie theater? Are you going to pull the old yawn move and put your arm around my shoulder?"

"Something like that." He grinned and leaned in for a long, drawn-out kiss. He let his fingers tangle in her dark locks and she wound her arms around his neck, pulling him close. Their lips melted together the way she had always dreamt about. She just couldn't believe this was happening.

When he pulled back to rest his forehead against hers, she bit back a moan of disappointment.

"Would you like me to say it?" he whispered.

"Say what?" she asked breathlessly.

He sighed. "You know what."

She knew exactly what he meant.

"I already know," she whispered back, then pulled him close again.

A/N: I know. A cheesy ending to a somewhat depressing story. And yes, as I was writing this, I did see the irony in Jane telling Lisbon that he wouldn't leave. In fact, as I was writing it, I started laughing a little. Oh well. I would really like to know what you guys thought of this last chapter. So please review!

I have a fic idea in mind, so just watch for my next story in the Mentalist archive!