AN: Hi everyone! I apologize for the late update to this story; I had intended for it to be up on Wednesday, but it proved trickier to write than I anticipated. I'm hoping the extra wait will be worth it for you all. Thanks again for your support of this story, especially to those who leave guest reviews which I can't reply to.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.

Epilogue: Across the Sand

Out near the horizon, slightly below the sinking sun, Lisbon could make out the first signs of approaching land. The ferryboat rocked beneath her, and she attempted to push thoughts of seasickness out of her mind. Lisbon concentrated on the slight breeze that touched her sundress to the backs of her legs, and the sensation of nausea gradually faded. She'd never work in the Navy, but at least she was growing accustomed to travel by boat.

Lisbon smiled and leaned against the railing that bordered the ferry. Her mind wandered to retrace her journey from California to paradise, which she had embarked on with Jane a mere fortnight ago. She titled her head down and allowed another smile to spread across her face.

Two weeks ago, Jane and Lisbon had stopped briefly in Sacramento to gather some essential belongings and to set other affairs in order. Jane had moved his possessions—albeit few as they were—into Lisbon's apartment, permanently abandoning his previous hotel skulking grounds. He'd made arrangements to allow them to keep up on Lisbon's rent which involved all sorts of untraceable payment methods—a few of which Lisbon suspected might be slightly illegal—so that tracking their whereabouts would be nearly impossible. But despite the secrecy surrounding their movements, Lisbon felt oddly free.

They'd headed south from Sacramento after each of them had packed a single travel bag. Lisbon had wondered if they were heading somewhere in Mexico, but after a few long days of travel they had moved further south. Though she wasn't sure of their final destination, Lisbon didn't really care. She knew Jane had been planning an escape for some time, and any destination he picked was fine by her.

Her thoughts turned to Jane as the ferry crossed a particularly rough patch of water. Gripping onto the railing tightly in order to stay upright, it occurred to Lisbon that despite their fourteen consecutive days of being in close proximity to each other, neither had broached the topic of the ordeal they'd recently been through. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. Jane, like herself, was an intensely private person. She thought it would take a great deal of time before either of them was ready to open up to the other about the events that had taken place in Malibu.

However, this line of thought reminded her that there was one topic of conversation between her and Jane that was roughly two weeks overdue. As she got up the courage to turn back into the ferry's cabin and seek him out, a pair of strong arms wound around her waist from behind her.

"I missed you," said Jane, squeezing her waist and moving his arms to rest over her chest. Lisbon leaned back into him. Even after two weeks, he still felt bare without his usual vest to accompany his shirt.

"I only came out here twenty minutes ago," said Lisbon, and she rolled her eyes.

"And that was about nineteen minutes too long to have gone without your company, in my opinion," said Jane. He began to kiss the back of her neck.

Lisbon turned in his arms. "You're quite needy, you know that?" she asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Oh, I'm quite the opposite, love," said Jane. "There's only one thing I need, and luckily for me, she happens to be in my arms."

Lisbon felt a fluttering sensation in her abdomen as she took in his words, especially that of the new endearment. She blushed and ducked her head.

"You're pleased," said Jane, and she could hear the awe in his voice. She was becoming more and more accustomed to the idea that she was the one responsible for that wonder. "Guess I should call you 'love' more often, love."

Lisbon didn't believe it was possible for her to blush any more than she already had, but she felt the heat on her face intensify. "Are you going to tell me where we're headed anytime soon, Jane?"

"We're here," said Jane, indicating to the land which loomed ever closer in front of the ferry. "At least, we're almost here," he added. "But admit, Lisbon, you've enjoyed getting here. It's been an adventure through paradise—palm trees, sandy beaches, never knowing what the day will bring."

He looked intensely at her eyes for a second, trying to get a good read on her. He tapped one sandaled foot in confusion. "Is everything alright, Lisbon?"

Lisbon leaned against the metal bar behind her, and Jane's arms moved from her body to the railing, framing her on either side. "Everything's fine," she began slowly. "I was just thinking…I wanted to apologize for those things I said right before—right before I stormed out. The last thing I would ever want to do is intentionally hurt you…but that's exactly what I had to do that night. And it kills me."

Jane's brow furrowed, and for a rare moment she could read everything about him. His face revealed that he'd forgiven her for those words long before, but she could still see the hurt she'd caused him. And suddenly she knew that that hurt wouldn't go away with a simple apology.

"There's nothing to apologize for, Lisbon," said Jane finally. "You saved us both that night." And he pulled her into his arms. Lisbon sighed into him, and the ferry crew began to make preparations to dock.

She tried to push away any residual uneasy feelings she had about the hurt she'd caused him that night. Wounds didn't heal overnight, she told herself. They needed time.

Lisbon smiled as she felt Jane's hand weave through her hair.

It seemed time was one thing they would have plenty of.

One week later

Though she wasn't touching the keys with much force, the quiet notes of the piano echoed around the modest apartment. Lisbon smiled as her fingers performed the delicate choreography and the song emerged. She'd have to ask Jane how he had managed to find such a gorgeous piano in such a small South American town way out in the middle of nowhere. She imagined it had involved inordinate amounts of charm and money, and the thought made her smile wider.

The piano had been the one thing she had allowed Jane to splurge on, mostly because she knew he enjoyed listening to her as much as she enjoyed playing. The apartment which housed the piano—and themselves—was far less ostentatious. The kitchen was tiny, as was the single bathroom, but there was a decent-sized family room. Large windows adorned the only bedroom, affording them a view of the beach that connected to their property. They'd watched the sun rise over the beach yesterday morning while tangled up in each other's arms in bed. Though their material belongings were sparse, life was paradise.

And Lisbon couldn't imagine anything more perfect.

A shadow fell across the keys, and Lisbon knew Jane had propped himself against the door to the family room behind her. She finished the song without acknowledging his presence. Once the final note hung in the air, Lisbon spoke.

"You're staring at me again."

She saw the shadow on the piano move, and she knew Jane had pushed himself away from the door. The weight of his hand left a soft pressure on her shoulder, and he sat down on the bench next to her.

"To be honest," Jane said as he began to play a simple scale with tentative fingers, "I'm still getting over the fact that I'm allowed to stare now."

"I don't believe I ever said I would allow such a thing," Lisbon quipped, her hand covering his as it moved up the keys.

Jane chuckled. "But you encourage it."

"I do not!" said Lisbon, feigning an expression of outrage.

"You secretly like when I stare at you," said Jane. "Just as you like when I kiss the corner of your mouth, and when we—"

Lisbon blushed and cut him off, knowing his thoughts were most likely far from innocent. "Okay, Jane, I get it—apparently I'm completely enamored with you."

"Damn straight."

"Jane!"

"Oh, I'm completely enamored with you as well, love—don't you ever forget that."

Lisbon took her hand off of his where it rested on the piano and tucked her bangs behind her ear. "I don't think I'll ever forget that. You seem to tell me so fairly often."

"Making up for lost time, my dear," said Jane, and he leaned in to kiss her.

He pulled back far too soon for Lisbon's liking. She pouted as he asked, "What song were you playing? It sounded familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it without the words."

Lisbon smiled at him with her eyes. "Oh, you'll like this one," she said, and she started the song over.

She could tell Jane hadn't identified the song after she'd played the introduction. His eyes stared questioningly at her fingers as she played, confused by her transposition. She couldn't blame him: her version was slower and lacked the guitar which had been featured so prominently in the original.

Recognition finally graced Jane's features when she began to sing the first verse. She heard his slight intake of breath, and she wondered if he was remembering their stolen dance to the song she now played for him. All those years ago, she'd been reluctant; he'd been insistent.

Lisbon was glad she had caved.

She made it halfway through the chorus before Jane caught her hand and pulled her away from the piano. She turned naturally into his arms, her head on his shoulder, and they swayed to a phantom melody.

Lisbon breathed in deeply, inhaling scents of Jane and the sea. She wondered vaguely how she had been so blessed, and her thoughts flashed through weeks of memories. One stood out in her mind: a non-conversation between two friends who had held injured hands and finally agreed to grant each other the truth.

How would things have turned out had they not agreed that day to tell each other the truth? To step into the blue? Would she still be somewhere in the US, drinking a glass of wine and pining for Jane? Would he be here, by himself and pining for her?

Lisbon pulled herself back to the present and focused on Jane's warm form pressed against hers. It wouldn't do to dwell on thoughts of what ifs and if onlys, she realized, since what she had was so much better than she could have hoped for.

Jane stopped spinning them, and Lisbon looked up to meet his eyes. She smiled a half-smile at him, pleased when he returned the other half, and flipped her right hand over so that his left lay on top.

Several weeks ago, that hand had been cut and bloodied; her wrist had been broken. Now only silvery scars remained. They'd carry those scars of their journey forever, she realized.

But at least, finally, they had begun to heal.

AN: Thanks again for reading, everyone! This story (and the dear readers who have followed it) have meant so much to me. I'm honored that you all have enjoyed going on this journey with me.

In the meantime (while I map out in detail where I want the sequel to go), I would love any requests/prompts you guys have for Jane x Lisbon oneshots. I want to write some of those while I have the chance before I dive into writing the sequel, so let me know what you'd like to see!