Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist. Otherwise every episode would feature shirtless Patrick Jane.

Here is finally the next chapter. Better late than never, right? Again, thanks for all the reviews or for telling me you like the story in other ways. I'm glad that PI Jane has so many fans. :)


At 11:23 AM, about half an hour after our return from the airport, a woman exits Lisbon's apartment building.

No, wait.

I almost choke on the chips I just put in my mouth.

Not a woman, but the woman I'm spying on.

She is dressed in a way so different from her usual attire, that I almost didn't recognize her. This situation undoubtedly calls for the use of binoculars for more thorough inspection.

Oh, yes.

Lisbon does look stunning in a sleeveless, knee-length black dress with red - no, not red, carmine - embroidery around the waist. Sandals and a simple necklace in the color of the embroidery and subtle makeup complete the outfit.

I always thought Lisbon in a dress or skirt would look strangely out of place and she wouldn't feel comfortable wearing them. Not that I actually spent time imagining her in clothes like that or anything. Erm... Okay, I admit it, I did. But not very often. Anyway, I was wrong. Not only does Lisbon behave as if she's dressed like that on a daily basis, she also accomplishes to look casual and sexy at once in the process.

I appreciate that she takes the time to open her mailbox and check her mail before walking to her car. It gives me more time to take in the rare, intriguing sight. She really shouldn't hide her legs in pants all the time. But then again, if she'd walk around like this at the office, our quota of solved cases would drastically slump as I'd have even more trouble focusing on work than I have anyway.

As Lisbon is driving downtown (too fast again, by the way), I'm brought back to reality. Sad but true: Lisbon didn't put on that dress as a visual treat for me. It's almost noon, so I surmise that she's meeting someone for lunch. While waiting in the car in front of her house I got to the point of being able to convince myself that Vegas guy doesn't really pose a threat for me. But now, as Lisbon in her little black dress steers her car onto the parking lot of an Italian restaurant, I suffer a setback.

I'm experiencing the same tingling, conflicting anticipation I had before, when Lisbon started to remove her bathrobe. I'm curious as hell about Lisbon's lunch date, but at the same time I want to close my eyes and live in denial ever after.

Okay, my eyes are still open. Curiosity wins this time.

The restaurant looks kind of fancy, but not enough to offer valet parking. Dressed-up Lisbon...Yes, I still didn't really grasp that she's wearing a dress – thanks for noticing. Where was I? Right. Lisbon (in a dress) exits her car and walks up the three steps to the entry.

Suddenly, so far hidden in the shadows by the door, a man approaches her and greets her enthusiastically.

Huh. That is not what I expected.

The guy must be about 60 with his grey hair and well-groomed beard. He knows how to dress, wearing a really nice, tailored suit which distracts from the fact that he's a little overweight. No, it's impossible that this is Vegas guy who is in my age group.

Seriously, Lisbon, another man? I apparently know zero about that woman.

A devastating flash of thought hits me. Nah, this can't be. Rena couldn't have thought that I am 60, right? I fight the urge to use the rearview mirror for a quick check-up, searching for deepened crinkles and undetected grey hair. I'm not looking 60. Period.

Back to the indeed old guy, who just hands Lisbon a yellow flower. A rose? I pick up my trusty binoculars. A daffodil. Really weird choice to give a woman as a single bloom. Maybe he is clueless about the language of flowers or there's an inside joke between him and Lisbon hidden somewhere. Either way, Lisbon seems pretty pleased with her gift and even hugs him and kisses his cheek. The situation doesn't look particularly romantic, but I sense a certain familiarity between them. As they walk into the restaurant, he puts an arm around her shoulder and they merrily chat and laugh with each other.

A relative? A friend, maybe? Boy, I hope so. Or her former college professor? With Lisbon being his extracurricular teacher's pet? After all, still waters run deep. The longer I'm following Lisbon, the more my mind takes me to places I definitely don't want to go. Focus on what you see, Patrick, instead of jumping to wild conclusions!

After upbraiding myself this way, I feel better. What now? It could be fun observing them over lunch...

Excitedly I get out of Rigsby's car and walk over to the restaurant. I'm really in the mood for this right now. Hiding behind a menu, using wall mirrors and chromed napkin holders to sneak a peek – a classic. Besides, I could use a bite. Those chips I just had are way less nourishing than you'd think.

Behind the entrance door I face a problem in form of a guy in tails, standing behind a desk and starting to look me over disapprovingly from head to toe the minute I come in his field of vision. Crap. I'm so used to wearing suits that it totally slipped my mind that now, of all times, I don't. Oh well, I'll just have to make up for my lack of chic by being extra charming.

"A table for one, please." Smile like you mean it, be sure of yourself and never break eye contact – it always works to get you what you want.

Or, always but this time. "I am sorry, sir, all tables are reserved." He doesn't look the tiniest bit sorry though, rather smug and pleased that he has the power to give me a hard time.

I take a twenty-dollar bill out of my pants pocket and casually hand it over. "All tables?"

Without even looking at the money or saying anything, he brusquely makes it very clear that our conversation is over by simply turning away from me. How rude! The guy must have taken a nap when the subject of 'The customer is always right.' came up during his job training.

I'm pretty sure that he only didn't let me in because of my outfit, so I still have an ace up my sleeve. In the car a suit, picked up from the dry-cleaner's just two days ago, is waiting for me.

Changing clothes in a car is a challenge if you're taller than dwarf-sized, especially if the car is parked in a busy shopping street on a Saturday. After swapping my jeans for suit pants, the worst is over. Or so I think, until I sit there shirtless and notice two teenage girls next to my car, staring and giggling. I flash them a smile and their cheeks turn cherry-red. They look away, but still steal a glance at me now and then. I should feel embarrassed, and maybe I would if their behavior wouldn't be a boost to my ego: The girls wouldn't act like that if I'd look like 60.

Clad in my stylish dark suit I return to my impolite opponent, who doesn't look any friendlier. In fact, he looks at me as if I'm nuts and tries to dispirit me by throwing steely glances at me.

"I told you, sir, there is no table available for lunch." He emphasizes the 'sir' the same way Rena did earlier today. It's a damn conspiracy of customer service personnel all over town.

"Come on, I can see from here that the restaurant is almost empty. Besides, I saw only exactly two people enter in the last 20 minutes."

"We are completely booked up. I can't help you, sir." There, he did it again. I swear, if he's gonna 'sir' me one more time... I never get the chance to wreak any havoc. Another guy, very tall and bulky, shows up to "walk me to the door".

Alright then, no indoor investigation for me this time. I console myself by buying a huge ice-cream cone at a booth down the street and then go back to the car.

Almost an hour later I'm so lost in a Sudoku puzzle that I almost miss Lisbon and her companion leaving the restaurant. They hug in front of old guy's car, then Lisbon walks - smiling and daffodil-sniffing - over to her SUV. Before getting in she waves at the man, who just pulls out of the parking lot and makes Lisbon laugh by honking goodbye.

I get a glimpse of his license number and write it down on the cover of my puzzle magazine. Right now I'm not really sure what to do with it, but it's good to collect all information available. As Lisbon drives past me, I duck. Then I turn the car and once again chase after her.

This time, we don't go far. Lisbon's next stop is a beauty salon & day spa whose slogan promises to let Lisbon's body and soul enter a world of sensation. Recalling the bathrobe incident, Lisbon's body already looked pretty sensational to me. Maybe she just gets a haircut. Or she pays someone to relieve the tense muscles of her back, caused by working too many hours on the Harris case.

Really, Teresa, I'd have massaged you for free.

I chastise my naughty mind for getting sidetracked again and try hard to focus on my investigation. I guess going in there is not an option. Whatever Lisbon is doing at this place, it can take a while. So I get out of the car to soak up some sun and relax for a while.

As the sun beams warm my face, I get an idea how to use my newly gathered license plate info. I go back to the car to call Rigsby. Yes, it's mean to interrupt his weekend again, but I'm pretty sure that Cho is blunt enough to switch off his phone when he's not working. Plus, it's more fun to get a Rigsby / Van Pelt update as a bonus.

Rigsby is not thrilled to hear my voice again. But I take the wind out of his sails by asking him why he has his phone on if he doesn't want to be disturbed.

"So, Rigsby, how's it going with Van Pelt?"

"Fine." He answers through clenched teeth.

"Ah, she's sitting right next to you, huh?"

"What do you want, Jane?" That's the question I've been waiting for.

"Who do I call if I have a license number and want to find out the owner of the car?"

"Well, Grace is the specialist for that. Lisbon and Cho and I have access to the database as well, but you know, Grace, she's the best and she..." Aww, young love. Still, I need to interrupt his praise of Grace's talents.

"That's not what I meant, Rigsby. Neither of you is in the office today and it's pretty urgent. So who would give me, being off-duty, the information without asking any questions?"

I become impatient, Rigsby gets suspicious, but after swearing that all my actions are legal and convincing him that his car is just fine, he gives me a name and phone number.

"Thanks, Rigsby. I'll refer to you when I call him."

"Don't!" It's fun to make Rigsby panic.

"I won't. Bye!"

"Hey, Jane? It's going really great. That love and affection thing you taught me works wonders." He tells me in a conspiratorial voice. "You should try it yourself sometime."

"I'm working on it." And how I do.

"Really? Is that what you need that license plate info for?"

"I'm not liberated to tell you or I might have to kill you." I joke. "Or, more likely, the woman in question would kill you." I mumble under my breath.

"You're going after Lisbon?!" I wouldn't have thought he'd figure my little hint out so fast. He must be really frightened of Lisbon's authority that he immediately thought of her. I probably shouldn't have said anything, Rigsby can be quite the blabbermouth sometimes. I already hear him whispering with Grace, who is apparently quite excited at the news.

"I can't talk about that right now, Rigsby. Gotta go."

"Good luck, man." He sounds like he thinks I'll need it.

I'm not really sure how Rigsby, after several foredoomed attempts of relationships with other women, finally got the girl of his dreams while I ended up stalking Lisbon. Apparently the pupil outplayed the teacher.

I guess it never seemed right to just try to get together with Lisbon in the usual way. She is too precious to use the 'love and affection, flowers and candy and insipid pick-up line' routine on her. Yes, I could have just asked her who the caller was, but I doubt she'd have told me. And I guess I also could have just asked her if she wants to spend time with me this weekend or if there's someone who keeps her from doing so, but I'm not sure how I could have kept a straight face in front of her if she'd rejected me.

If I find out on my own that I don't stand a chance, I can silently step back and nobody needs to know. Well, nobody now but Rigsby and Van Pelt. And Cho will hear about it as soon as his phone is on again. But I doubt any of them will have the balls to mention it to Lisbon. And if I see a chance for us, I can still ask her out, right? I guess the purpose of this whole mission is to buy me some time before the big smackdown.

Although, I have to admit, I had plenty of time already. Months have past since the night when the need for revenge stopped being my only purpose in life. The night when Lisbon found me covered in my own and Red John's blood and with simply holding my hand managed to promise me that everything will be alright – a promise that she kept. The night when her eyes told me that she'll wait for me until I'm ready for her – an unspoken agreement, but one I firmly believed in for all those months.

Did I read her wrong? Or did I simply hestitate for too long until she decided to move on?

A sigh escapes my throat. Alright, enough with the melancholy – there is still hope. I take a deep breath and call the guy at the CBI whose number Rigsby gave me.

"Hey, this is Patrick Jane. I work as a consultant for the Serious Crimes unit and..."

"I know who you are." I hope that's not a bad sign.

"Okay. I was wondering if you could find out the owner of a car for me..."

"Number?" A man of few words. I like that guy. I give him the number and hear him typing.

"Car is registered to a Dr. Alfred Lisbon. Relative of your boss?" I feel a weight falling from my shoulders. He must be a relative.

"That's only a coincidence. Is there any further information on Dr. Lisbon?"

He hits the keyboard again. "Dr. Alfred Gene Lisbon, born June 29th 1948 in Boston, works at the Mercy General Hospital, no criminal record, widowed, no kids. You don't need his SSN and stuff, do you?"

"No, that's more than enough." Because his niece/second cousin/whatever just leaves the spa and I gotta follow her. I start to thank him, but he already hung up.

Lisbon looks even more relaxed than before. So she probably got that massage. A pleasurable little flashback to the lotion incident occupies my mind. Her billowy hair is also a little bit shorter and shinier. So, maybe she got ready for a date tonight? At least we can definitely rule out the doctor as a suspect. And, there's another relief: I definitely don't look like 60.

Things are starting to work for instead of against me. Of course, there's still the guy who wants to abduct her to Las Vegas, but I have more than a week to prevent that from happening. Always think positive. Confidence is key.

We slowly drive back to Lisbon's place. The visit to the spa seems to have made her more susceptive to speed limitation. Lisbon goes up to her apartment and I hide at my usual spot. I begin to feel at home here; it's nice spending some quality time outside work with Lisbon. Even if not really with her. Yes, I definitely could get used to that.

Over an uneventful hour, while I wait for the sun to set, I have time to think of the best way to initiate my scheduled visit to Lisbon. I promised myself to take action if she's alone tonight, so I will. Should I tell her that I observed her every move since Friday?

Just as I steel myself to get out of the car earlier than sunset, Lisbon heads out again, now in the jeans and T-shirt she wore this morning. She wouldn't go on a date like that, would she? Maybe 'honey' likes it casual.

We soon arrive at a supermarket a couple of blocks away. I consider waiting in the car while Lisbon buys her groceries. It won't be easy to stay undetected inside the store, especially since I feel no desire to offend some elderly housewives by doing another striptease in the car to change my clothes.

But my curiosity wins: it could be interesting to get an insight into Lisbon's shopping habits and food preferences. Besides, they sometimes offer free food samples in supermarkets and something to stop my stomach from rumbling would be great.

After I enter the store I need to peek into three aisles before spotting Lisbon in the bread & cereal section, reading the back of a box of granola and then putting it in her cart. Some bread and milk and butter follow before she moves on to the meat counter. I can't see what kind of meat she chooses, but it seems to be a lot more than you'd need for one serving.

Then Lisbon's shopping strategy switches from purchasing everyday to luxury goods. Two bottles of expensive wine, oysters, caviar and chocolate truffles all end up in her cart. Then she tones it down a little by adding some less extravagant, yet also suspicious items: whipped cream, strawberries, artichokes and asparagus. All in all it looks as if Lisbon plans to host the most clichéd romantic evening since the dawn of mankind. Maybe she just wants to indulge herself tonight and I'm once more reading too much into her behavior? Right. Dream on, Jane. Still, I'm not ready to give up on believing that everything is totally innocent.

Lisbon walks over to the drugstore section now, with me following close behind until I find a place to hide between some piles of dog food. I hold my breath and hope she gets cough drops or paper tissues or something similarly harmless. She seemed to feel a bit under the weather earlier this week.

But no, with one swift move of her right hand Lisbon destroys all my hopes and dreams as she drops a small box into her cart. And then she rips my heart out by adding a second one.

What hearing her tell someone to love them or booking a flight for herself and a man didn't achieve, Lisbon buying condoms does: I am ready to surrender. All the hints and clues viewed individually didn't look so bad, but now I am able to put them in perspective. It's like doing a jigsaw puzzle and every piece you add makes it more ovious that the finished picture will show a horse. Until you add the last piece you can still pretend it displays a cow, before having to face the truth in the end.

The realization has the same impact as if someone had slapped me in the face. Lisbon is in a relationship, which makes her do silly things like calling people 'honey' and cooking ridiculously romantic meals and which obviously includes sex. And she seems happy with it and I could only make her unhappy by interfering. She'll go to Vegas and marry that guy, whoever it is. Then she will probably adopt his surname and I can't even call her Lisbon anymore. He'll even take that away from me.

I just want to go back to the office to lay down on my couch and feel sorry for myself for the next hours, days and weeks. No, I can't take any more. It's enough to know what she's doing, I don't need visual aids to be able to picture who she's doing it with.

I hide in my corner by the dog food and wait for her to pass by. As she walks down the housewares aisle, I look after her and, to increase my misery, she stops in front of a rack with candles, takes a smell at some and puts them in her cart.

PI Jane is definitely retiring, immediately effective. And maybe Consultant Jane should too. For starters, I should call in sick on Monday.

Dispirited and lost in thought, I enter the aisle parallel to the one Lisbon took. As I look up to find the fastest way out of the supermarket, I stop short. I should have expected this, knowing that life has a habit of kicking you in the groin at the most inopportune times. Coiling up in that corner by the dog food and allowing despair to take over seems like a pretty good idea now.

Because the sight at the other end of the aisle... Well, that sight is by far more than I can bear in my defeated condition.

Evil chliffhanger, I know. I'm so glad that I know what happens next. *runs for cover* Okay, I'll stop being mean now and better start writing the final chapter to get it up soon.