A/N: Well, here is the conclusion at last! I so hope you have enjoyed this story. I suppose if you are still here, you must have found something to keep your interest. Thanks for your support of yet another strange experiment of mine.

I hope this last chapter ties up all my loose ends and hanging plotlines. Let me know if I've forgotten something, lol. Forgive me in advance for the fluffiness…

Chapter 19: Conclusion

When he was certain his friend, Rigsby was well taken care of, Sir Kimball went out to find their abandoned horses, then released the poor noblemen and women they'd left tied up in their carriage. He'd borrowed the livery of a knight of Maliborough Castle (with Prince Patrick's blessing) so his pretend discovery of the robbery victims would appear genuine and he would be less likely to be recognized. As he returned their clothing, (save Rigsby's bloodied shirt) he told them the highwaymen had been caught and would be severely punished. Frightened and angry that they'd missed the ball, the shaken party rode away into the night.

It had been a strange night, stranger still that all at once he'd been given back memories of what he'd missed six months before. Since he hadn't been around the prince and princess much at the time, he hadn't been at as big a loss as his friends in Sacraham, but it was a good feeling to know he hadn't, in fact, been insane. Now that he knew why he'd been headed to Maliborough, the events leading to his first encounter with Summer had been fleshed out, and he was able to think on that time more fondly. It had been during this time that he'd fallen in love with her, and it was no longer tainted by uncertainty and doubt of his own sanity.

Now, if he could only bring his head around to doing what his heart longed to.

The next morning, he checked in on Rigsby, who was being nursed and coddled by the princess herself.

"How are you feeling?" Kimball asked his friend, watching in awe as actually royalty was spooning soup into his mouth.

"Like someone ripped open my gut with a sword," he replied between bites.

"I see you're in good hands," Kimball replied, bowing slightly to Grace.

"Yes, and lovely hands they are." Rigsby said, looking with unabashed love into her eyes.

"Well, since that is the case," Kimball said wryly, "if the boss doesn't need me, I'm heading home to Sacraham as soon as I get leave to."

"What? Why? We just got here."

How could he explain it? The night before, he'd seen the touching reunions of Teresa and the prince, then of Rigsby and the princess. It was like one of the fairy stories Kimball would never admit to reading, and he knew, were it not for his stubbornness, his own happy ending might be waiting for him at home.

Then Rigsby nodded and smiled knowingly. "You old dog. You're missing Summer, that's what this is. The ale's dried from your face and you're having second thoughts."

"Summer?" queried Grace curiously. Rigbsy held up his hand against anymore soup. She set the bowl and spoon on the nearby table.

"That's the lady love he left in Sacraham," Rigsby explained. "Summer told him she was no cow, and he'd be getting no more free cream from her, or something along those lines..." Rigsby chuckled, then cringed in pain as the movement pulled his injured stomach muscles.

"Sir Rigsby," Grace chastised at his vulgar words. Rigsby colored in embarrassment.

"It is a truth I'm not proud of," said Kimball solemnly. "I need to go home and make…peace with her."

Rigsby raised his eyebrows. "Yeah. Peace. I suppose that's one name for it."

Kimball supposed he deserved that, but that didn't prevent him from rushing to the defense of a lady's honor. "I'd appreciate your not besmirching the name of my future wife," he said seriously.

Rigsby's eyes widened comically. "Wife?"

Kimball nodded. "That's right."

"She'll take some convincing, after your last meeting. You weren't exactly Prince Charming to her."

"No, I was an ass. I plan to make it up to her."

"Well, I wish you good luck with your Summer," said Grace, staying Rigsby with a look from making another cutting remark.

"Uh, yes, my friend," replied Rigsby, well-chastened. "As do I. Godspeed."

The two men shook hands, and Kimball bowed his farewell to Princess Grace.

When he'd gone from the room, Grace stifled a yawn, and Rigsby looked upon her with concern, then noted she was still wearing her ball gown from the night before.

"Have you been here all night with me?"

"Yes. You needed looking after…"

"You have a surgeon and servants for that," he said, scowling.

"It was no hardship…I—I enjoyed it."

He smiled as she blushed. "Well, I thank you, but I'd feel much better now if you were to get some rest. I'm sore, but I'll be quite all right."

"I don't know if I could sleep. So much has happened."

"Yes," he said, taking her hands in his. "It has. And Grace…I just want to say—" he cleared his throat nervously. "We don't really know each other well, but back in Sacraham, I—I knew the moment I saw you, you were the woman for me. I know it sounds absurd, given our different stations, and what they say about fishes loving birds…"

"No," she protested. "I feel the same. The way you looked at me—the way you still do now. No one has ever looked beyond my tiara to see who I really am. I've always been considered a prize for the winning. A key to the kingdom. Then, when I was sold off to Lord Craig like so much chattel, you attempted to rescue me."
"It wasn't just me—" he began humbly.

"Perhaps, but you were all I saw in Hartshorne's throne room that day. I knew you were there for me, not just to be the valiant knight you are. And last night, you nearly died for me." He could see the welling of emotion in her eyes, born perhaps from exhaustion, but mostly, he saw in surprise, an emotion he never dared see reflecting back at him.

"Oh, Wayne," she cried, suddenly, throwing herself upon his torso, bare beneath the linen sheet. "I love you so!"

Rigsby gasped in pain at the unexpected onslaught, but as he felt the wetness of her tears on his skin, and the warm kisses she was showering over his neck and chest, the pain seemed to fade away, and he wrapped his arms around her slim body.

"Grace," he whispered, his hands finding her chin, then lifting it so he might meet her beautiful amber gaze. "I love you too."

He pulled her head gently down so he could reach her trembling pink mouth at last. At first it was merely a gentle meeting of lips, infinitely sweet and tender. But then a hot tendril of desire curled up from his stomach to wrap around his heart, and he held her even more tightly, his tongue seeking hers. She gave a startled cry at the unfamiliar sensation—no man had ever kissed her in this way. She was at once frightened and excited, and after a tentative touching of her tongue to his, a low moan escaped their throats, and Rigsby's hands slipped into her bound hair.

He wanted nothing more than this kiss to last forever, but when he instinctively pulled her body atop his, the pain was too great to ignore anymore, and for a moment he thought he might faint from the agony along with his current deprivation of oxygen from his mouth being so long fused to hers.

"Oh, Wayne! I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, breaking their kiss and moving off his body immediately. Her hair was disheveled and falling from the braids once tightly coiled about her head, her lips plump from his ardent kisses. But her eyes were raw with sensuality mixed with concern that she had hurt him.

Rigsby closed his own eyes tightly, his jaw set against the pain from his wound, but also from a little lower, with the pain of thwarted desire.

"I'm fine…truly…" he managed. He felt her soft lips brush against his again and his pulse leaped. Slowly, he opened his eyes as he found his way out of the blackness.

"I will let you rest, Sir Rigsby," she muttered. "I fear I've overexcited you."

Rigsby blushed furiously, wondering if she had been able to feel just how excited he was when she'd been practically lying on top of him moments before.

"Yes," he said. "Perhaps that's best, so long as you promise to find your bed as well."

"I will," she agreed. She placed her slender hand on his cheek and looked into his dazed blue eyes. "You are my brave, brave knight."

With another sweet kiss to his cheek, she left him. Despite his exhaustion and residual pain, it was a long time before Rigsby's heart and mind would settle enough to allow sleep to take him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next day, Teresa paid Rigsby a visit. Grace looked up from her usual place beside the patient's bed, and a distinctly uncomfortable pall filled the room. Teresa was his wife, and Grace had been kissing someone else's husband. She flushed and rose.

"I'll let you two talk," she said, and left the room before Teresa could say a word.

She smiled at her long-time friend and short-time husband.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Sore. And you? There's a lot to take in, isn't there?" he said, in gross understatement. He looked at her sheepishly.

"Yes."

"Look," Rigsby began in a sudden rush, "I know this is highly improper, Teresa. We may both remember what really happened—or what didn't happen—but you're still my wife, and I should be showing you more respect."

"So, no one has told you," she replied.

"Told me what?"

She sighed. "You were in a lot of pain last night…That priest you found to marry us—he wasn't really Catholic, Rigsby. Prince Patrick spoke to a real priest. The Church doesn't recognize any clergy from The Order of the Sacred Eye. They're considered heathens even. Red John controlled that church, as I imagine he controlled the so-called priest who married us."

"What? You mean—"

"We're not married. In the eyes of the Church, no vow we took would be binding, to either of us."

They were both quiet as Rigsby absorbed her words. He looked up at her with a small smile.

"Would I be too forward to think that this is…good news?" he asked her.

Her smile came then too. "Yes. But let me say, Rigsby, that you were so kind to me, so good of a friend to have married me, even though you had no idea whether the baby was yours. Never doubt you will make some lady a very fine husband someday. Perhaps, a certain princess?"

"Thank you," he replied, and his eyes went to the door through which the princess had exited. Then a shadow crossed his face, and he became serious once more. "I would have raised Owain like my own, you know," he told her. "I still feel the loss of him as if he had been."

She sat on the edge of his bed and took his hand, her eyes watering. "Yes, I know. But Grace will give you many beautiful babes, and I know you will be a wonderful father. That was the reason, when I'd been so lost, that I knew I could depend upon you."

He squeezed her small hand gently. "And you, Teresa. I know no child can replace your first, but you will have more, I'm sure of it."

She nodded, her throat constricted with emotion. She leaned over then and kissed his lips, their first since their wedding day. "I love you, Wayne Rigsby," she whispered. And they both knew what she meant by that.

"I love you too, Teresa."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Four months later…

The forests surrounding the village of Sacraham were redolent with the scent of spring flowers, the floor green with ferns and vines that climbed the towering trees overhead. It was here that King Patrick and his lovely new queen knelt down beneath a white birch tree, heedless of staining his fine lawn breeches, or her apricot silk morning gown. Patrick's eyes lowered to the small mound before them. He took Teresa's hand, tears forming in both their eyes.

"Here is Owain," she said on a whisper, laying her armful of wildflowers upon her son's diminutive grave.

She had only been to the grave once before, a month after she had lost him. At the time, of course, she had believed the baby to have been Rigbsy's, and he had led her there to show her where he and Kimball had buried her baby boy. It had been an emotional occasion then, but nothing compared to Patrick's reaction upon seeing his child's grave.

He broke down then, crying with great sobbing gulps, and Teresa gathered him into her arms. He'd endured enough painful loss to have lasted several lifetimes.

"Had I only been here, this never would have happened," he said, after a few heart-wrenching moments.

"Red John was determined to destroy our happiness, Patrick. I don't think anyone could have stopped him."

She felt him shaking his head against her breast. "I suppose we will never know. Thank you for bringing me here. Now…I have a place to picture him." He raised his head and looked at the vibrant surroundings, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. "It's beautiful here."

"Yes," she said.

Despite this moment of intense sadness and regret, the rest of her time with Patrick had been wonderful. When Rigsby had recovered, and Kimball had returned to Maliborough, he had brought with him his new wife and Teresa's father. Sir Minelli would be staying in the castle with them for now on. And so, with all her family and friends surrounding them, Teresa and her prince could finally be wed.

They were married by a real priest in the castle's own private chapel. It had been a simple ceremony, for neither of them had wanted the fanfare and attention that would come from the expected royal wedding. King Stiles had protested at the extreme break in tradition, but Patrick had held firm, and in the end, it had been the king, Grace and Rigsby, Kimball and Summer, and Sir Minelli to bear witness to their vows.

A month later, King Stiles had abdicated the throne, citing failing health (which had actually become the truth since then) and in a truly traditional ceremony, King Patrick was crowned, along with his new wife, Queen Teresa.

It had been a whirlwind, and very much like a fairy tale of old. Among the many guests were the King of Vegas and his daughter, Princess Lorelei, invited in order to mend fences, along with the rightful monarch of Hartshorne, Queen Madeleine. Once the full extent of the evil surrounding Lord Craig's rise to power had been revealed, (confirmed by Patrick and his father) she was reinstalled as queen, war narrowly averted.

Princess Lorelei had become newly betrothed to Queen Madeleine's younger brother, a very beneficial match indeed, one that joined the three kingdoms in an unbreakable bond of good will. After his coronation, King Patrick had looked deeply into Lorelei's eyes. It would seem she too had been released from Red John's spell upon her father's death, and her true, sweet spirit had reemerged.

She still did not remember witnessing Red John's violent demise, but neither was she saddened to hear of it. She loved her adopted father, and neither she nor Patrick told him of her mother's betrayal with the dead wizard. She wished both Patrick and Teresa well, and Patrick sensed she was sincere.

Now the King and Queen of Maliborough had returned to Sacraham on a mission of good will—but mainly Teresa had come to see her old friends. The new king had made sure that Sacraham would never be denied its fair right to farm its own land, and with the help of Queen Madeleine, LaRoche had been ousted as sheriff, and Kimball put in his place. Rigsby had been designated his right hand, Sir Mashburn having been ordered back to serve the queen at Hartshorne Castle.

When it had come to Grace and Rigsby, things had become a bit more complicated. Rigsby had his mother and their farm to see to, and Grace had her royal duties in Maliborough. A wedding seemed like a fantasy. Still she had written to him every day, sending a bundle of letters off to Sacraham once a week. She'd actually received the same from him, but still, she was horribly unhappy.

Patrick had released her from her duties, but she still felt she owed the people of Maliborough her time and attention. She paid visits to the sick and the poor, seeing to it that they did not go hungry, that they received the best of care.

"Who would do this were I to leave?" she'd asked her brother in anguish.

"I would do it," Teresa told her one day, after Patrick had shared why she had not gone to Rigsby in Sacraham. "I'm bored silly these days. Being a queen is not quite the exciting job I had hoped. I haven't robbed a noble coach in months," she said, finding that her disappointment in that fact was only partly feigned.

Grace's face had brightened. "Truly? You would look after them for me?"

"Of course. On the condition that were you to live in Sacraham, you would care for my people there."

"Oh, yes, Teresa!" she had said, hugging her new sister tightly until Teresa squirmed for breath.

And so it had been decided, and the three had left for Teresa's village once again.

Patrick glanced now at his sister, standing a respectful distance from the grave of her nephew, trying to hide how anxious she was to see Rigsby. She did not have to wait for long. Rigsby must have seen their carriage parked before Teresa's old cottage, for suddenly he bounded through the woods toward them.

"Wayne!" cried Grace, running to meet him in her royal purple gown, her vibrant red hair bouncing in its long braid behind her. Rigsby's longer legs quickly ate up the distance between them, and they met beneath the trees, kissing like they had been separated years instead of months. But Patrick quite understood—one day away from the one you loved could feel like a year of agony.

The king turned back to his queen, and he helped her to her feet.

"Are you all right?" she asked him. He sniffled a little sheepishly.

"Yes. Sorry I was so emotional."

She grabbed his arm, and he looked down at her upturned face, dearer to him than the air he breathed.

"No. There is no need to be sorry. You have lost so much, Jane. More than most men ever have to bear."

He hugged her to his body, inhaling her fragrance, heady competition to the loveliest of forest flowers.

"I have you now," he told her. "And the happiness of my sister. There is nothing more I could want, nothing more that I deserve."

She went up on tiptoes and kissed him lightly, then brought his hand gently to her stomach.

"Nothing more?" she asked, arching an amused brow as she gauged his reaction.

"What?" he said, not daring to hope.

"Come autumn, you will have a new child to spoil as much as you do me," she whispered, her eyes sparkling brightly, this time with tears of joy. She had waited for the right moment to tell him her suspicions, and here, now, in this place that was so important to them both, she had found the perfect time to share her news.

Very tenderly, as if she'd suddenly become breakable within the last minute, he gathered her into his arms, but the kiss he bestowed upon her was by no means gentle. It was filled with gratitude and immeasurable happiness, and a love so deep he could not begin to quantify it. He touched his nose to hers and stepped back to admire her newly discovered state, his eyes raking her body for the tiniest of changes.

Then his eyes smiled into hers. "You may have this baby, but on one condition," he said teasingly. "You may not teach him the ways of thievery."

"And I will give you this baby," she countered mischievously, "If you do not teach her the ways of magic."

"I thought you were beginning to like my magical powers…"

He leaned down to nuzzle at her neck, just below her ear. She closed her eyes, remembering how he'd employed a certain bit of magic in their bedchamber of the roadside inn the night before. He'd undressed her without even touching her. She shivered at the memory, her fingers sliding into his golden locks now, holding him fast to her body.

"It has its…merits," she agreed. "And never forget, dear Jane, it was thievery that brought us together to begin with," she told him.

"True. You quickly captured my very heart and soul, the moment you commandeered my body, lovely Saint Teresa." He grinned at his own mawkishness. He knew without seeing her face that she was rolling her eyes at him.

"And what we have together is…magic," she countered in amusement.

"That it is, my love," he said, his hand moving lovingly to her stomach. "That it is."

And they lived happily ever after…

The End

A/N: Please let me know if you liked this ending. Yes, it was overly sentimental in places, but aren't all fairy tales? Thanks again for reading this. Please look for waterbaby's next chapter of "Scarlet Woman", along with my next season 1 tag, which will be for "Bloodshot," 1x16.