This is a post 4x17 tag for you all. I don't know if I'm happy with it or not but it's sorta the feeling that I got from the episode and the new closeness between Lisbon and Jane. I also changed the rating. I am not sure how "M" is "M" and what is a "T". But then again I probably wouldn't want my teenage niece reading this anyway.

Disclaimer – Not Mine.

"Did Filo confess?" Jane asked from where he was reclined on his brown leather sofa.

"Yeah, he did. I sent the team home to get some rest. I'm going to finish the paperwork," Lisbon casually said as she headed to her office.

Jane just laid there and watched her. He itched to touch her again, surprised he finds it so easy to touch her casually but rarely did he touch anyone else. His fingers sought her contact. He would touch others out of necessity: getting a read on Darcy at the diner, handshakes at the appropriate times, a pat on the shoulder as a sign of empathy. But he never did it without thinking. Lisbon was different. His fingers desired her warmth of their own accord, without prompting. And it felt good.

Oh and he had missed her. two days without her. He'd called her but it wasn't like seeing her. He couldn't smell her over the phone. He always remembered to surreptitiously breathe her in. He had since he had been blind. What a feast for his senses that moment, her skin and smile under his groping fingers, her cinnamon scent, and her voice.

Erica was nothing compared to the beautiful Lisbon, Darcy had tried an awkward seduction but Lisbon didn't have to seduce. She was his siren and he craved her.

His fingers absently played with his wedding band. It was loose. It rolled around his finger easily. Would it slide off as easily? He could only try.

Angela wasn't forgotten, he was still damaged but Lisbon was his saving grace. He'd done his penance, now he had to see if the communion wine was still sweet. The ring fell into his right hand as it slid over his knuckles.

He studied it. It didn't burn his fingers in disgrace and self-loathing anymore and some weight was lifted from his shoulders with its removal. The ring was placed carefully on the desk that he never used as he stood up.

Lisbon watched him from her office. He was so beautiful. Men should not be that beautiful. But he was also dangerous. The darkness in his eyes could be so seductive for a girl who had always been good.

She never wanted to be so close to a man so that they could hurt her like her father. But yet he had found his way around her moat, had laid siege and she didn't put up a fight. You want what you want, no matter the pain it could bring. He was a dangerous damaged man and dear god did she want him. Wanted to show him that he wasn't dead.

"Hey Lisbon, what do you say to a bite to eat at that diner down the street? They make great eggs."

"I have to finish this, Jane."

"It's the weekend, live a little."

Jane grinned at her in the way he does only with her, one eyebrow slightly raised and a bit of a crooked grin. She never could say no to that.

She looked at him and smiled in a way that made her dimple pop as she grabbed her jacket.

***********Mentalist************Mentalist*************Mentalist*************

Lisbon was sitting across from Jane, laughing quietly at his various reads on the late night patrons of the diner. Most of what he was saying was complete garbage but she knew it was for her benefit. To make her laugh, to make her forget that there were two battlefronts, the FBI and RJ. In this diner, with this man, she could forget for a while and revel in his presence, for however long.

Jane watched her laugh, her eyes sparkling. Her hands by her coffee cup and he reached out. Fingers lightly running over fingers. She stopped laughing and stared at their hands. The intimate gesture. Then she noticed on his left that was over her right, that something that she had always expected to be there was gone. Her eyes flew up to his face, searching it for answers.

"Jane, your ring."

"It's at the CBI on my desk. I figured it was time."

"Time for what?"

"Time to prove I'm not dead."

Lisbon started to tingle from the intensity in his eyes. Stormy blue green, pupils dilating. She knew hers would match in intensity and dilation. If she was going to stop this, now would be the time, but she couldn't. She'd follow him. She was Eve and he was serpent, tempting her with his own type of paradise.

*************Mentalist **************Mentalist**************Mentalist*******************

"I bought it after I lost my memory. I wanted some permanence."

Teresa just was surprised that Jane had bought a house. It was modest and tidy. Nothing fancy but all Jane. Volumes of books lined the walls in book case after book case and gently distressed leather furniture abounded. It was a home. He was trying and it held the warmth of someone living and not just existing.

"Do you want a tour?"

"I'd love one."

They wandered the house as he showed her room by room. Books were everywhere. Little stacks here and there throughout the house. Volumes of academia and she had no doubt that he had read them all. What he could have accomplished if he had a normal childhood and not a manipulative con man for a father that used his son's genius for ill-gotten gains. It didn't matter now. If his childhood had been different, she probably wouldn't have him with her and she couldn't imagine life without him anymore.

Jane just watched her as she went from room to room with him. She looked good in his little world, could imagine her snuggled up in the big armchair with a book and a coffee. He didn't want to look too deeply on his desire for that scenario as it was a bit too soon for such domesticity, but it didn't mean that it wasn't a hope for one day with her.

There was one room she was yet to see, and suddenly Patrick was nervous. He was unsure but dear god when she stood in that hallway with her big green eyes and slightly parted lips, delicate beautiful strong thing that she was, he wanted her. Slowly he reached for her hand and pushed the door open to lead her inside, hoping she wouldn't bolt.

Teresa followed him, she would always follow him and this was no different. He was telling her to taste the forbidden fruit and her mouth watered. Her skin prickling with anticipation.

"What do you want Teresa?" Patrick husked out, tickling her ear with his hot breath.

"What I've always wanted, Patrick."

"You have to tell me Teresa. I can't unless this is what you truly want."

Teresa looked him in his stormy blue eyes and whispered, "You. I want you."

His lips crushed hers, tasting her and devouring her. She was fierce right back at him. Wouldn't give in to his show of dominance but fought for her own. Nothing could have prepared her for how sweet this moment was.

Before they knew what was happening, Jane was bare from the waist up as Teresa only had her bra on. If they were asked to remember in the morning who had taken what off of whom, they wouldn't be able to answer. They had a shared desire to be together and that is all that mattered.

Jane's fingers reverently slid over her heated skin as he gazed at her with glittering eyes. There was none of the well-heeled gentleman that he normally portrayed on display. He was primitive and possessive in his gaze and touch. Teresa could only arch into him wherever he brushed his fingers and his eyes. She felt worshipped in a way she never had before.

Her fingers reached out of their own volition, stroking across his chest, feeling the hot silky skin under her fingers. He closed his eyes and moaned. Never had a touch felt so sweet. She couldn't stop, her fingers needed to map his body to burn the memory into her mind. She didn't know if she would get another chance so she would make sure to catalog every bit.

"Lay down," he growled at her in need.

Teresa lay down on the sinfully soft bed, stretching out under his heated gaze. His fingers releasing her bra and undoing the button on her trousers. Sliding his hands under the waistband and spanning her hips, he reverently moved both pant and panties down her gorgeous legs, throwing them out of the way. He stood above her as he just drank her nymph-like body in with his darkening eyes. Porcelain skin, delicate freckles, honest eyes. He leaned down and drove her insane with his slow soft touches up and down her body. Arching and mewling in frustration. She wanted more.

When she reached out for the button on his trousers, she looked at him and silently asked. Patrick nodded his head as he stood before her, with her naked, sitting on the edge of his bed. Delicate hands removing the last bit of barrier between them. They paused and just gazed heatedly over each other for a moment, taking in the beauty of the body before each of them. This is all that existed for them and they would savor it.

Teresa moved up the bed, and Patrick followed her, laying his delicious body on hers, the heat of the other so overwhelming it felt like drowning. He could smell her arousal and she felt his. When she opened beneath him, he pushed in slowly, wanting to remember the moment he came back to live again.

She had never felt this connection on so deep a level with another human being. This was religious in its fervor, the religion of ancient times when something so beautiful was sung about in temples to gods and goddesses without shame but in celebration. They knew how powerful passions could be, how much it re-affirmed life and all its glory.

There was no catholic guilt as she writhed beneath him, clawing him to get as close as possible. She abandoned herself to the moment and the man, the only man she could ever surrender so wholly to.

Patrick watched her as she gave herself over to him. But he was surrendering too. This woman, this creature of such deep passion, had him and he didn't want to get away. If the world would reduce to just them, he would be content and happy. He needed no other.

He could hear the blood rushing through his heart pounding in his temples, body taut on the edge of release. And then she let go, whispering his name on a shuddering breath, contracting around him and pushing him off the cliff with her. Floating into the sweet oblivion.

Curling up behind Teresa, Patrick pulled her to his chest and stroked his hand lazily over her stomach. He was spent and content and kissed her shoulder. Both fighting to catch their breath.

"Thank you Teresa."

"For what?"

"For bringing me back to life."

He felt her nod, and her hands link with his over her belly.

"I'm not going anywhere Patrick. You have me if you want me."

"I don't want you, Teresa. I need you."

With whispered words of affection, they drifted off to sleep, wrapped up in each other on more than one level. Their lives as one just beginning.