Disclaimer: seriosuly, do we really have to do it? Because, Jeez, if I'd own them, I'd not be here writing it, I'd be the writeer of a TV Shows and, well, we'd have the LIsbon romance for real... I just "write, draw, create, dream, hope and believe in Bruno, waiting for him to be blessed by the light of reason..." (No, this discalimer isn't mine, it belongs to one fo the girls who wite Mentalist fiction on the italian site efpfiction, but don't tell me many of you don't share this vision...)- I'm thinking about doing few vodoo on his as well, you don't know how things could work out...

Ook...a little soemthing I got out with while I was at work, doing anything in particualr. Just palin and silly, but, ehy, I felt like wwrting it, so...

Lisbon always knew that the final confrontation with Red John was going to change everything, only, she didn't know exactly how; she had kept repeating the two possible scenarios in her head for years, as long as she knew Jane, and a way more often after he admitted what his plan for the vicious murderer was; when she was alone, when she wasn't doing anything that could keep her mind occupied, and at night, when she was hunted by the terrible visions, she saw what the possible future was: visions of Jane, either dead in a pool of his own blood, or the shadow of the man he used to be , in jail. She had never thought about a third option. She had never thought about Red John kidnapping Jane himself, as his last show, the man tortured for days and saved as the blade was already on his neck by the entire team, three bullets fired by Cho with deadly precision.

That night, as she sat at the side of Jane's hospital bed while he was still unconscious after minimal surgery, while holding his left and playing with his omnipresent wedding ring she realized that he no longer had a reason to stay with them; how many times had he told them they were merely a mean to an end? Now, although not how he wanted it, he had reached his goal. He no longer needed them. And, besides, he was leaving anyway. Hightower had been clear with her: Jane had to take a pause, going away, in hope he could get back in touch with a more proper concept of life. A part of her wondered if he was going to ask her to follow him wherever he was going to, she hoped, whished, actually, but that part had been immediately silenced by her reason. It wasn't her name Jane kept whispering in his drug-induced sleep; it was his child and wife's. Two weeks later, when he took a plane in direction of New York, she was grateful for the triple murder she had to work in Los Angeles. Lisbon was quite sure she was going to go well with the e-mails and sporadic conversations over the phone, but she couldn't look at him leaving, leaving her behind, and knowing her feeling weren't reciprocated.

Two months later, when his email reached her, his best-friend as he had described her so many times, she wondered if Jane was really that good at his work; reading the few lines over and over, she asked herself if Patrick Jane was oblivious to her feeling or simply was a sadist.

Yesterday, I was at the Grand Station; I had just come back from the Hamptons, where I've spent few days with my father. It's raining like God himself is sending it, and I was in desperate need of a taxi. And there was just one left. I run to catch it before somebody else could, and when I'm opening the door, here I am, jumping into this woman, who tries to steal the cab as desperately as me. We had a brief discussion, and when we realized we were both going in the same direction, I asked her to share, and she accepted. When she left, I felt the need to say thank you, don't ask me way, so I offered her a coffee, and while I'm sitting in front of her at Starbuck, I suddenly feel the need to ask her out. And it's what I did. It's the first time after the first time I spoke with my late wife that I asked a woman out because I want to- I asked Kristina out just because Hightower suggested it, just to prove the boss a point. It was 12 years that I didn't ask a woman out on a date; I wonder why the weight on my shoulders still feel so heavy. Jane

That night, Lisbon cried herself to sleep, holding in her arms a photo of the both of them taken at the found-raising. She was a mess, but at least Jane was happy, and it was enough for now.

In the next months, his sporadic phone calls become even more sporadic, like the emails, and the few ones she received had a common denominator, the topic: Claire. Jane told Lisbon everything about the blonde photo-journalist, always around the world, how he missed her when she wasn't with him, how he'd like to spend more time with the woman… after six months of him dating the woman, Lisbon realized two things: Jane wasn't going to come back, and, since he wasn't in love with her, she had to go on with her life. Jane had done it, and not with her as she had secretly whished for so long, so it was time to take problems in her own hands. Closed the laptop, she went through old notes looking for the number of the only man she could think of, the only man who, besides Bosco, had shown some interest in her . If Jane could go on without the love of his life, his long lost wife, she could go on without hers as well; she could go on without him.

Do you think eight months is a bit early to propose? Claire doesn't seem to think so. Few days ago, she went all sweet eyes on a ring, and, I don't know why, but even if it didn't trilled me, yesterday I come back and took the jewel; we had dinner today, and I thought about proposing over a meal (sophomoric, I know, but she is the kind of woman who can't resist a good old cliché), but I changed my mind. Last night I dreamt of a teenage girl with blonde curls and blue eyes, and I know she was my child, had she lived until now. She kept asking me why I wanted to do it. I thought that her questioning me about it would coincide with my subconscious questioning this decision. Maybe I'm not as ready as I thought I was. Jane.

P.S. Why didn't you tell me you were dating Mash? Is that serious or did you simply finally decided to have a bit of fun?

Lisbon didn't answered the email, not because she didn't know how to actually answer his question, but because she didn't want to think about Jane engaged, about him engaged with another woman. He wasn't going to come back, and he wasn't going to love her and ask her to be at his side 'till death do us apart. If she really wanted to go on with her life, she had to cut him out from her life, for good.

Patrick I know it's been a while, and I know that I've been the one cutting you out, but I need help. I don't know what to do.

Walt proposed. Walt proposed after just 3 months. He says he wants to get married ASAP- he even showed up at my doorstep with thickets fro Vegas, but I declined, but I really don't know if I have a reason at all to say no.

3 months… is that a reason enough? How can we be sure that we are right for each other? It's not his feelings for me that I'm questioning, I know he feels something for me, but I can't help but wonder if it's love or just affection. And I like him, I really do. He treats me as every women should be treat, he is sweet and caring, but I keep asking myself if I really love him, maybe the fact that I'm questioning my feelings for him means I'm not ready for marriage yet…God, Jane, I really I don't know what to do. Lisbon

When his answer came, it wasn't what she was hoping for.

Claire gave a try to me. I think you should give a chance to Mash as well.

I envy you two a little, you two are engaged and arranging a wedding for next year, while Walt, as soon as I said yes, stated to arrange our ceremony. I'm pretty sure I'm the only human who gets married after 4 months, you know? I'm stressed as hell, and the only thing I had to do was the dress fitting, because we have a wedding planner, which I'm immensely happy about. I have already enough problems without having to worry about small details...

I don't understand why people can't see how much Walt and I belong together. Why can't they be happy for us, for me? I still can't believe that my brothers refused to come to the wedding, to gave me away, I raised them, I renounced to my youth for them, the least they could is coming to my own wedding!

But when I'm alone at night, I think about what Tommy told me. And I ask myself if, maybe, I'm doing a mistake, the worst mistake of my life.

Lisbon

I'm dreaming of my daughter. To be fair, I should say that I keep dreaming of my daughter, the dreams never stopped after I brought the ring for Claire. In my dreams, she doesn't seem sad, but just, I don't know, just contemplative, I guess. And she has never been direct. She has always been on my place's couch, asking me a simple word: why. Last night, though, it had been different, and she didn't even speak, she just looked at me.

Do you remember your old apartment, the one sometimes I come to, and the one where I hypnotized you? Well, we were there, on your old couch. God, how much I miss that couch, it was almost as comfortable as the one at office. Anyway, we were there. Not me and my daughter, well, she was there, but I think that the Patrick of the dream didn't know that, not at the beginning, at least. We were on the couch, and you were asleep, cuddling against me, smiling, and I nuzzled your neck, playing with your hair, breathing your scent- cinnamon and vanilla. When I looked in front of me, I saw my daughter, sitting on the pavement, looking at me. She wasn't contemplative, not any longer. Hell, she even didn't look serious any longer. She just looked like me, with that smile… she was bright, Lisbon, and she asked me why I've been blond that long. I answered her that I've been blind blind because I wanted to, which is, essentially, the truth.

Last month you asked me for a reason to say no to Mash. Well, here it is, even if late (even if I like to think that you'll use it before to reach the aisle).

The truth, Lisbon, is that I've been a coward, I've been too much of a coward to tell you how I actually felt, I preferred to not love than to love and to lose, but, Lisbon, I've been wrong.

Dante said "Amor ch'a nullo amato amor perdona"; translated in English it should sound like "Love that exempts no one loved from loving in return"; it means that it's better to love and to lose than not loving at all.

Teresa, please, please, I beg you, say no. I know I shouldn't dare to ask you this, but here I am, wearing my heart on my sleeves. I'm not pretending anything, but, please just give me hope.

On the day you'll get married, I'll be at the Sacramento International Airport, Gate 11. I have a flight scheduled for 12 o' clock. I'll wait for you, but if you'll not show up, if I'm late in my confession, I'll understand. I already do.

Patrick

The cote d'azure is simply wonderful and divine, I couldn't ask for a better voyage. The house we rented is just perfect, besides, it's not like we need that much: a bathroom, a kitchen, a living room, and, obviously, the bedroom. We have lavender fields in the back and the seaside in front of us; jogging on the sand with my dog in the morning, while breathing the salty air is simple heaven, it remembers me of when I was younger, and lived in San Francisco, I used to run on the seaside in the morning.

While I write this, I'm looking at my right hand, and I'm happy. I know I did the right thing. And since you always sign as "Patrick" from a while, I'll do the same.

Teresa

Last night I dreamt of my daughter again. Last time I did, she was radiant, true, but this time it was different. This time she was genuinely happy. We were sitting in a lavender field, talking. She told me everything I've always wanted to hear. She said it was a message from both her and her mother as well, but who knows, maybe it's just my mind playing games. Or maybe you and Grace have been right all along.

She said goodbye that her work was done, that she could move on. And that I could as well.

I think it means that I've finally reach a point in my life where I can concentrate on the good old memories, instead that on the bad ones, remembering them playing the piano smiling instead of crying or seeing their bodies. Maybe it's time to create new good memories, maybe I can finally allow myself to think about tomorrow.

I'm glad to hear that you are happy. You should already be aware that, if you are happy, I'm happy as well.

Patrick

PS. As soon as you read this note, make me the pleasure to come back to bed to me. Please, I'm begging you. This bed feels empty without you at my side, and we just have few days left to enjoy it before to come back to the CBI.

PPS. Don't get too used to your ring-less left hand, because I'm already considering a remedy.