A/N: Final part.

To the people who have favourited and especially those who have commented, thank you. It makes writing fanfic seem worthwhile.

For anyone who is remotely interested, I will be writing a sequel to The Path Not Taken in The Mentalist Big Bang 2012. If you wish to participate, please sign up at the mentalist_bb community on LiveJournal.

x tromana

Part Eight

20th November 2012

His hand shook slightly as he poured the kettle of scalding hot water. Jane was struggling to come down from the adrenalin rush he'd had to endure over the past couple of hours. Deep down, he'd always known that he'd be fine. With Lisbon in the building, Dawson was never going to be foolish enough to shoot him dead. However, despite his handling of guns, despite killing a man with his own two hands with one, Jane still felt funny about them. It was a weapon, designed to kill. And the simple fact that Dawson had held a firearm to his face meant that he was at least thinking about doing so, even if common sense had kicked in.

Now, he was safely back the CBI headquarters. Cho and Rigsby were busy grilling Dawson about his actions prior to Lisbon's intervention. They also had enough damning evidence to prove that he was at least involved in Gregory Mitchells' murder, even if the extent wasn't quite known yet. A confession would help seal the deal and he wasn't required for something like that. Cho and Rigsby had gotten their interrogation technique down to a fine art; it wouldn't take them long to break him.

When a soft hand brushed against his shoulder, Jane jumped and spilt half of his scalding hot tea over his hands. He cursed quietly, but Lisbon ignored that. Instead, she gently removed the cup and saucer from his cast iron grip and poured the rest of it away. In silence, she prepared him a fresh cup and instructed that he sat down in his office. He obeyed meekly; Lisbon had automatically switched into mother hen mode and there was very little point in him fighting against that.

"Patrick," she whispered as she handed him the drink.

The use of his forename was unusual, especially given their current location. Jane smiled weakly; if nothing else, it did provide him with a little comfort. She was there for him, just as she always was. And once the shock had died down, he would be fine, they both knew it.

"You okay?" Lisbon continued and sat down beside him.

"Yeah."

She scrutinized his features, but didn't call him up on it. It was rather obvious that he had been lying, so there was no need.

"I'm about to go question Stephenie Winters. You wanna come?"

He nodded, deciding that the distraction would do him good. Yet again, something else to focus on instead of the myriad of thoughts swirling around his brain would help. In silence, he followed Lisbon down to the interrogation room. She quickly explained that Wainwright and Van Pelt would be listening in from the other side of the one-way mirror. That she wasn't expecting him to be on top form or to nail this criminal. Instead, any insight he may or may not have would just prove beneficial. She was confident that between them, they could get her to break.

Stephenie Winters was busy dabbing her eyes with a tissue when they walked into the room. Jane couldn't decide whether it was grief at the fact somebody had died, or disappointment at the fact she'd been caught. Instinct told him that it was more than likely to be the latter. In silence, Lisbon took a seat and Jane remained in the shadows, by the one-way mirror. With interest, he watched as she opened up the manila file she had been carrying and slid it across to the suspect.

"It's good to meet you, Stephenie."

"I wish I could say the same thing. Can we just get on with it please?" she begged.

Lisbon nodded; a wise decision, given the fact that the crocodile tears were already wearing thin. If she was trying to act weak and innocent, Winters wasn't doing a particularly good job. Instead, she appeared to be all the more self-centered.

"So, what's all this then?" Winters asked, unable (or unwilling) to comprehend the file placed in front of her.

"A copy of your bank records, cell phone calls and the like. You've been a very busy lady."

"A girl has got to eat," Winters answered with a shrug.

"We can prove that you've been in regular contact with James Dawson for six months. Two nights ago, you received a substantial payment from him. Why?"

Winters glanced away and pointedly avoided looking at Jane.

"I needed the money to pay my rent."

"Liar."

It was the first word Jane had felt the need to say. As far as he was concerned, Stephenie Winters was clutching at straws, trying desperately to ensure her story held. She and Dawson had probably spent the past forty-eight hours planning exactly what to say. Slowly, Jane pulled a chair up and sat beside Winters. He grabbed hold of her wrist in order to measure her pulse, but eventually, she pulled it away, irritable. It wasn't that she had cottoned onto the fact he wanted to use her pulse as a lie detector, but that she felt uncomfortable being touched by an unfamiliar man.

"Let off," she growled angrily.

"Mr. Jane is just doing his job," Lisbon replied quietly.

"What, by being a touchy-feely creep?"

"Why were you locked in Mr. Dawson's cellar?"

She shrugged.

"A confession would help you."

"I didn't do it."

"Then provide us with a logical reason as to why-"

"Why did James Dawson want Gregory Mitchells dead?" Jane interrupted.

"Gregory wasn't meant to die; she was."

In surprise, Winters clapped a hand over her mouth, surprised that she had let on so easily. When she realized her error, she told them the whole story, in the hope of striking a deal. How Dawson had approached her, after finding out she was Mitchells' ex-wife. The one who he had left for Andrea. How he wanted Mitchells dead. Where and how they came up with the plan to poison Mitchells. How she was intending to double-cross Dawson and instead, kill Andrea Mitchells in revenge for stealing her husband. She surmised that Dawson had worked out the plan and switched the drinks around before she had a chance to deliver them to their table.

"But he didn't recognize me," she seethed eventually. "I'd been working my fingers to the bone in that club, in the hope that I could see him again, but he'd forgotten that I'd existed."

"And that makes his death okay?" Lisbon said.

"No," Stephenie answered, her shoulders sagging in response.

Later, after Lisbon had finished with the paperwork, Jane took her home. He immediately instructed her to relax with a good book in front of the television, while he prepared dinner. She deserved it and besides, he found cooking meals from scratch relaxing. Within the hour, they had a plate of pasta and his famous red sauce in front of them.

"Are you okay?" Lisbon asked again, persistent, before eating. "I mean it."

"Just thinking…"

"About?"

"My wife. Gregory Mitchells. You…" he said, trailing off.

"And Greg?"

"Yes."

"Do you really need to know about him?"

"What do you think?" Jane asked.

Lisbon rolled her eyes, exasperated. He could never give a straight answer. However, she knew that he was still intrigued, that he desperately wanted to know either way. Jane watched as she slowly placed her cutlery down and stared at him pointedly.

"It's not that interesting."

"I don't-"

She cut him off. "But fine, I'll tell you…"

xxx

15th February 1989

Teresa stared at the ring that now adorned her finger. She hadn't meant to say yes; in reality, she needed time to think about what she wanted. From Greg, from the future, from life. Somehow, the romance of the situation had rushed her answer and now, she was engaged.

And yet, she was so young.

Greg met her during her lunch break and when he went to kiss her, she turned her face slightly. If he was hurt by the fact she had made him kiss her cheek instead, he masked it.

But she couldn't help it.

Less than twenty-four hours had passed and already, she doubted her engagement.

xxx

30th June 1989

She was angry. It was the bubbling, simmering anger in the pit of her stomach.

And his doubt in her, in her ability to become a cop, had just tipped her over the edge.

Teresa wasn't a stranger when it came to arguments, but this was by far and away the worst that she had had with Greg. All of the words kept coming out wrong; it was almost as if she had no control over her tongue. And now, she was comparing him to Daniel Jane again, the boy with whom she never argued, never upset her and never doubted her for a second.

Logic didn't come into it; she had never spent long enough with Daniel to fight.

However, that didn't matter in the heat of a fight.

This wasn't what she wanted. Since their engagement, she and Greg had fought like cat and dog. About where they should live, how much they saw each other, even what they did during their time together. It was wearing her thin. Since she had said she would marry him, Greg had almost become convinced that he should have a say in every aspect of her life.

As far as she was concerned, she was still her own person and half of her decisions had absolutely nothing to do with him.

And besides, whatever had happened to the sweet, caring boy who had supported her through everything? Why had he suddenly changed into something completely different overnight?

"I think we should take a break," she muttered.

The words slipped out accidentally, but Greg, surprisingly, nodded.

When he left, it was a blessed relief.

xxx

7th August 1989

Teresa still hadn't returned the ring to Greg and yet, they still weren't back together again. They were beginning to talk again, albeit more cordially then they had ever done so of late. She hadn't completely lost him, and yet, she wasn't sure if she wanted him either.

Just because they had that inexplicable link, it didn't mean they were meant to be.

Did it?

As she twisted the ring in her hand, she thought about what the future could lead to. She felt as though she was standing at a crossroads and there were two plausible paths to take.

One with Greg. One that led to marriage (at such a painfully young age), kids, settling down, becoming a housewife, household bills, the school run, errands, mundanity.

Or… the unknown. The one where she definitely became a cop, but then what?

She placed the ring back on her bedside table and turned out the lights.

That was something to ponder later.

xxx

18th August 1989

She'd already had the tearful farewells with her brothers. Already packed up her car – a birthday present from her uncle and aunt – and was about to drive off to the University of Illinois.

However, she had one last stop to make before leaving.

The envelope felt heavy in her jacket pocket, but she ignored it until she had parked up in front of Greg's house. Then, as she got out of her vehicle, she slowly slipped it out and stared at it. Once she reached the front door, she toyed with knocking but eventually fled back down the garden path and to the letterbox.

It was the coward's way out – but really, she was her father's daughter – so, she posted it instead.

Teresa didn't want to be there when Greg saw that she had returned his engagement ring with an all too familiar note. One with just two words: I'm sorry.

xxx

27th August 2008

It had taken Lisbon many years, but she had slowly worked her ways up the ranks. After graduating with flying colors, she had quickly made the move to California. She had been desperate to run away and escape the ghosts of her past.

Starting again in a new state had seemed like as good a place as any to begin again.

Under the tutelage of Samuel Bosco, she had bloomed and grown in a masculine-dominated career. He didn't care that she was a woman; he just saw a good cop and Lisbon appreciated that. She wouldn't have been able to work with – and admire – the man, otherwise.

Eventually, she caught the eye of the directors of the CBI and soon transferred over to their Sacramento branch.

Like with Bosco, Virgil Minelli saw her potential and she was fast-tracked up their ranks. It was a matter of just a couple of years before she was heading up her own unit. Serious crimes, no less.

Lisbon was proud of herself and justifiably so. She had worked hard and with every criminal she took down, she felt like she was doing good. Giving something back to society. It also helped convince her that she had made the right decision to leave Greg and find her own wings. She was happy in her career and felt comfortable in California. This was what she was meant to do.

When Minelli had told her she was due to receive a consultant, she had initially fought against the decision. The cops who she supervised were good people and between them, they had a reasonably good closed case record. Of course it could have been better, but the same could have been applied to any team within the CBI.

The only reason she relented was when she found out the new consultant came as part and parcel with the Red John case. She had been desperate to prove her worth and knew that was the case where she would be able to do it. After all, so many cops had tried and failed, and if she could break it, then she would prove to her doubters (the men, mostly) that she was just as good as – and if not, better - than they were.

When Patrick Jane walked into Virgil Minelli's office and shook her hand firmly, Lisbon cocked her head quizzically.

The name was familiar and it took her a good five minutes to place it.

This was the brother of her old childhood crush, Daniel Jane.

And yet, if she didn't know otherwise, she might have just sworn that they were the very same man.

end