AN: I love the season five finale. It's my aesthetic - a psychological thriller - and every time I watch it, I get inspired to write. Hope you guys like this oneshot.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist, though I did borrow some dialogue.

"I have secrets from you. Secrets you cannot imagine."

He's watching her as she says this, noticing how she refuses to meet his eyes. It's a tell of hers that he's known since the day they met.

She's bluffing.

And he can't help but call her out on it.

"Right," he says, drawing out the word to exaggerate it. "Of course. How about I tell you three things about you that you think are secrets from me that I actually know? Then will you be convinced?"

Just like he had expected her to, she responds too quickly. "Sure. Go ahead."

"Okay," he says, grinning. He opens his mouth again, expecting her to cut him off, and she doesn't disappoint.

"You know what?" she says, sounding irritated. "Don't bother. I won't stoop to playing your silly games."

He smirks. "Wise call."

Jane watches as Lisbon cuffs Miriam, recites her rights, and passes her off to the uniformed officer waiting to transport her back to the CBI. Lisbon sees the woman into the squad car, shutting the door with more force than Jane knows is necessary. She turns around, and he is waiting for her. Their eyes hold each other for a few seconds in the dark until Lisbon says, "Child services?"

Jane nods. "They have Caitlyn. They said they'll make a decision on where she'll go tomorrow." He swallows. "You ready?"

"Yeah. Come on."

They walk down the block together in silence, passing under the occasional streetlamp, as they head to her car. Jane climbs into his usual spot in the passenger's seat, and Lisbon starts the engine, startling a nearby cat, which races away.

About fifteen minutes later, they're approaching downtown Sacramento when Lisbon speaks up. "What were the three things?"

Jane glances over at her, noticing that she's keeping her eyes determinedly on the road. He doesn't need to ask her what she means.

"You sure you want me to tell you?"

Lisbon puts her blinker on and makes a right turn. She laughs, the sound almost sad. "I'm never sure when your mind games are involved, Jane. But I'm curious as to whether you know me as well as you think you do."

"Well, I certainly know you better than anyone else does."

She meets his eyes this time, and he's surprised to see she looks almost resigned, as though she knows exactly what he's going to say – and that she won't like it.

Jane's brow furrows, but Lisbon looks away quickly and gestures for him to continue. "Well, go on, then."

Jane clears his throat and looks up at the Sacramento skyline. "Right before the Vegas debacle, you started questioning the choices you've made in your life. You don't regret any of them, but you still wonder about the family you could have had if things had turned out differently. And you've resigned yourself to the fact that your life, as it is right now, would not be conducive to starting a family." Jane sneaks a glance at Lisbon. "How am I doing so far?"

Her shoulders drop a fraction of an inch. "Running into Greg did make me wonder about what could have been," she admits. "Not, you know, with him per se but just generally. What if I hadn't chosen to become a cop? What if I'd chosen a normal profession? What would my family be like?" She gives him a half-smile. "I don't regret my choices, but that doesn't stop me from wondering."

He ponders this for a minute before she speaks again. "I believe you said you had three things."

"Ah, yes," he says. "The second, and third actually, are about me."

Lisbon's expression remains neutral.

Jane continues. "You think the odds of me surviving Red John are about 50/50."

She winces. "I was hoping that wouldn't be one of the three things," she says softly.

Jane fiddles with his seatbelt. "It's alright, Lisbon. I think that's actually quite generous of you. The way I calculate it, my odds are not nearly that good."

"Jane –" Lisbon says immediately, beginning to protest.

He cuts her off. "It's not a suicide mission, Lisbon," he assures her. "I have every intention of making it out alive, mostly because I know what it would do to you if I didn't survive."

Lisbon jerks the steering wheel suddenly, turning them down a darkened street that leads away from the CBI. Jane knows her well enough to remain silent at this point, and she parks the car underneath a large bridge that Jane vaguely recognizes from a past crime scene.

She shuts the car off and looks over at him, only half of her face illuminated from a distant streetlight. "If you're telling me this, you must think..."

"The end, whatever it is, is near. Yes."

Lisbon runs a hand over her face. "You're two for two," she murmurs. "Want to try for perfection?"

Jane smiles sadly, though he knows she can't see him in the dark. "Barlow was right."

Lisbon's breath hitches. "About which part? The first or the second?"

"Both."

She's silent for a few seconds before she speaks. "Give me a minute," says Lisbon, unbuckling her seatbelt and opening the door. She steps out, and Jane watches as she leans against the side of the car. He sighs and then follows her, coming to stand beside her.

"It was a pretty easy read," says Jane lightly. "When he asked you where you were that night, your eyes flashed over to me. He's not psychic – just paying attention."

Lisbon nods. "I was thinking of you that night. I do most nights, actually."

Jane tucks his hands into his pockets, and he feels a shiver run through Lisbon's body beside his.

Lisbon takes a deep breath. "And, yes, Barlow was also right about…the other thing."

Jane nods. He feels as though his neural connections are on fire, his memory palace up in smoke. For the first time in a decade, he can feel again. But it comes at a cost – because the only way forward is to break Lisbon, to shatter her heart, and this he is not sure that he can bear.

"Lisbon," he says softly. "Look at me. Please."

Her head turns to the side, and they lock eyes again.

"The last thing I want to do is hurt you," he says, and he swears he can actually see her break before his eyes. "But I want to avoid giving you false hope, which would only hurt more in the end." He blinks several times. "I, uh, I…don't think I'll ever be able to be in a relationship again," he continues. "I can't surrender to you the way you would need me to. If I cared about you less, I'd tell you that I love you and want to be with you. But, Lisbon, I can't. I can't do that to you. I won't doom you to a half-life with me."

She composes herself remarkably quickly, and Jane falls in love with her all over again.

"I understand," says Lisbon.

"I'm sorry," says Jane.

And suddenly she is so close – much too close.

He feels her hand on his cheek as she guides his lips to hers, and he loses all capacity to function. All he knows is that she loves him, he's a damn fool for letting her go, and he likely will never get another opportunity to kiss her like this.

So he holds her tighter, closer, nearer, dearer, and prays that someday she will find a man who will cherish her like he wishes he could at this very moment.