A/N: Hello! This is my second Mentalist fic, I hope you enjoy it. It's a little slow at the beginning, I know, but stick with it! This is sort of my take on how—God forbid—the Mentalist could end. But I'm still not sure this is how I'd want it… It's the best I can think of ^_^ Let me know what you think!

Jane sits on his couch. It's late afternoon; the sun is on the horizon. He's reflecting.

Memories flash. Red John with a blade on his throat. His nails, digging into Red John's skin. He wants to fight, but at the same time he wants to give in. A bang from the corner of the warehouse. Red John is dead, his head half gone. He looks for the source, and locks eyes with Lisbon. Darkness.

Lisbon in her office. She sits in her chair with her arms around her knees. Memories.

Wounded, she struggles to aim her weapon at Red John through the darkness. It isn't right, she knows. He'd rather be killed by Red John than have her kill him, and save his life. In fact, she fears he'd rather die either way. But her heart takes over. She has been selfless, but she can't go that far. Memories of his smiles and little tricks, origami frogs rock her. Fear grips her heart at the thought of him suffering, dying, and her reservations are gone as she pulls the trigger. She's smacked with the struggle between regret and relief as their eyes meet. His face is as dark as she's ever seen it with rage and betrayal and shock, and he looks at her as though he doesn't know her, as though he hardly recognizes her as human… as though he doesn't know what human is. He's surprised, for once in his arrogant existence. And she's afraid, and hurt, but not surprised. Captivated, just a little.

She limps into her office holding her newly bound arm to find him on the couch, his gaze distant. She stands in front of him, a few feet away, and watches him. Blue and red lights flash from the windows.

"He's dead." He murmurs.

She nods. "I shot him." There is a twinge of sarcasm in her voice.

He looks up at her. "You saved my life," he says, as though he's not sure how he feels about that.

She looks away, and he does too, but only for a moment.

"I hated you for that," he says, staring at her again.

She sighs and sinks into a chair. She closes her eyes. "Jane…"

"It was selfish," he accuses, an edge in his voice.

"Of course it was selfish! I think I'm allowed a moment of selfishness after everything you've done!" she cries, looking at him again. Her expression is pained. She tries to tell herself that he's not in his right mind, to be gentle, but she can't quite do it. She's a little past the point of being able to put herself aside again.

There's a pause. He's a little surprised to see tears in her eyes. It brings him back to earth, but only a little. She can see the crazed look is still there.

"I'm sorry,"

"Don't be. You're right." She cuts him off, resisting the urge to add "As always".

"I meant for hating you."

There is another pause.

"You're better than me, Teresa," he says softly, resigned. "You knew I could never be the man you deserved," there is a tone in his voice that creeps her out… a desperation, a wildness.

"I never asked for more than you could give, Jane. You know that," she says gently, back in caretaker mode. She needs to get him to a hospital for the shock, she knows, and probably for her own, too.

"I know. It was sort of a miracle, for a woman I mean." She sees the glimmer of a smile and it calms her. This is the Jane she knows. She narrows her eyes at him for good measure, falling into the comfort of a routine that makes them sane.

"It's just… It wasn't supposed to happen that way." he murmurs, and the crazy and the desperation are back just as suddenly as they were gone. He runs his hands through his hair and his eyes dart around the room.

"I know."

"You knew," he repeats, getting more upset. "You knew it was supposed to end differently, so why did you do it?" He's looking at her now.

"What am I supposed to do now?" He's breathing fast. She can see even now that to some extent he's aware of what's happening, and he tries to calm himself.

She moves to the couch and takes his hand. It's sweaty and cold, and she grips it tightly.

"Stay."

And they do stay, staring off into nothingness, absorbed in their own thoughts but comforted by each other's presence, until the paramedics finally find them again and Grace takes Lisbon and Rigsby and Cho take Jane to the ambulances.

XXXXXX

It's early in the morning, and they sit together in the break room. They're quiet for a long time, not wanting to break the spell of possibilities… anything could happen as long as no one speaks.

"You saved my life, Lisbon." He says quietly.

"You saved mine first," She's being flippant, trying for humor. She knows this conversation is inevitable, but she wants to resist it for as long as possible.

"I owe you everything."

She looks away, and he swallows.

"Not just for firing the gun." They look at each other now. There's no going back. They both know nothing will ever be the same again.

"You know it can never be the same," He says, almost urgently.

"Yes." It's almost a whisper.

"You always knew."

"Yes."

"So what was the point?"

She thinks about it. She's sure of the reason, but it's so specific that she needs to find the right words. "You're alive. Knowing that is enough."

He nods almost imperceptibly, thinking about that. He rubs his eyes. And then he leans forward and puts his hand on her neck, and kisses her gently. When he pulls away just a bit she presses her lips together, trying to keep from falling apart. They freeze for a moment, one that feels eternal but ends too quickly, their faces inches apart. Then he pulls away and heads for the door. He stops and turns.

"Thank you will never be enough." She doesn't turn around.

I was never supposed to be saved, and we both knew it. But she stayed with me anyway.

If I asked him to stay, would he? Is one miracle too much to ask?

A soul so compassionate, it makes you reevaluate your position on humanity.

If I were to run and catch him right now, would it make a difference? Would it ever work out, anyway?

The closest any human could get to holiness.

If I turned around he'd see me cry, and if he doesn't stay, I'll regret it.

I've never believed in God before, but I believe in Mother Teresa.

But the years we had were worth it. I'll take that blessing if we have nothing else.

I may not believe in God, but at least now I believe in something.

He's changed my life.

And she's given me mine.

She hears his light footsteps going down the hallway, and she gets up to watch him as he walks away.

They're free.

A/N: BAM! My plot bunnies ended there. Should I continue? Should Lisbon call out his name, or should Jane turn around? I would REALLY appreciate reviews. Perhaps they will rouse the plot bunnies…?

Thanks for reading!