Note: Sorry it took me so long to write another chapter. What can I say – college. Next chapter will probably be the last one (if I don't decide to write an epilogue), but I've got some ideas for different fanfictions. I hope you enjoy this one!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Mentalist.

The air was so hot and humid, his light blue shirt was sticking to his sweaty skin. A thousandth mosquito sat on his cheek and Jane didn't even move. He was already cruelly stung. The walls were so thin he could hear his old neighbor snore. He would have had hypnotized her ages ago but the language barrier made that impossible.

After a couple of months spent in a south-American country, his Spanish got from "Hello, my name is Patrick" to "Choose a card and don't show it to me". When he had come to this island it had frustrated him a lot more than it did now. There had been a couple of unpleasant situations when someone had joked about him in his presence and he had no idea what had been going on or how to respond.

Fortunately, there were a few people who spoke English and had been very helpful and kind to him, even though they didn't know him. Some boy had even offered to give him Spanish lessons in exchange for some magic tricks.

Jane turned on his back and sighed heavily. No position seemed comfortable enough to even rest for a while, so he finally sat up, frustrated and exhausted. The weather had been the same for over two weeks and even the locals didn't seem to take that well.

Since the weather had changed, his mental state had been getting worse and worse with every night. Sleep-deprivation was something he had lived with for over a decade but this particular time it had become unbearable.

"I wish I wasn't here".

As he became aware of this thought, echoing in his mind, his breath got heavier. His modest and a little messy bedroom turned into a cage. The paper-thin walls were coming closer and closer his way.

"I wish I was with her".

The neighbor's snore and the ringing of his quickened heartbeat merged together into a piercing squeak in his ears. He opened his mouth wide, gasping for air, which was so sultry he ultimately stormed out of the room.

It was well after midnight and the island was fast asleep. Only parrots and other wild animals seemed to be active. The sky was pitch-black, decorated with billions of stars. The moon was new.

As he walked down the street, a blurred cloud of raised sand formed behind him. His thoughts rushed through his mind so quickly, he couldn't understand any of them. Only single words stood out from this mess: "island", "Red John", "prison", "exile".

"Teresa".

Cold sensation against his feet brought him his focus back. He looked around, confused, and after a minute realized that he was standing to his ankles in the ocean. The water felt so refreshing and relaxing, without much thinking Jane started undressing. He vacantly threw clothes on the ground and slowly submerged in the water, bare.

When he lost ground under his feet, he laid on his back and let waves carry him further away from the shore. He opened his eyes and found that, strangely, the stars formed into the shape of her face. She was looking down at him, two bright sparkles in her emerald eyes. Her rosy lips curved in a kind smile.

"I'm here for you. I'll always be", he heard her say. "I think I've fallen for you, too".

Memories flashed before his eyes, as she continued.

"Your eyes are blue."

"You were an amazing father, Patrick."

"I think what I'm trying to say is... thank you… for staying. Even though you've got your own mess."

"I was cold."

"This golden sunlight makes anything more beautiful than it actually is."

"I can't do it. We can't do it."

"Close the front door on your way out."

"Did I satisfy your curiosity?"

"Patrick. Jane. Jane. Patrick. It's weird – even when I repeat your name many times, it doesn't lose its sense like any other word would."

"I wish I didn't love you. I wish you loved me."

"Yes. I do."

"Maybe start with not treating me like I'm not smart or good enough to be working with you."

"And when we're at work, it's either 'Lisbon' or 'boss'. Understood?"

"What if you had to choose between being with me and killing him? Who would you choose?"

"If you still have some feelings for me left…"

"Then pretend."

She was once again talking to him, speaking the words that left an everlasting mark on his soul. Words that hurt, gladden or exasperated him. Words of truth and outright lies.

He watched this movie about them displayed on the night sky and was so focused on the stars forming into different expressions of her face, that he believed for a moment she was before him, smiling, frowning, crying. He put his arm up to wipe a shining tear from her cheek.

He closed his eyes and imagined her, lying next to him in her bedroom, smiling softly, her gaze still sleepy and a little unfocused. The sunlight created golden reflects in her hair and played with her freckled cheek, making it delicately flushed and warm.

She smiled at him and it made his skin tingle.

- Why didn't you pick this life? Why did you pick him, love? - She whispered into his ear and her breath reminded him of a summer breeze. - Are you happy now?

- No. - Once he heard his own, raspy voice, he realized he couldn't feel her silky skin under his fingertips. He opened his eyes and found himself dangerously far from the land.

Waves became higher and stronger. Cold water, which felt so ecstatic at first, now made his blood thicken. He started swimming back to the shore and halfway there he noticed a slim silhouette holding a flashlight.

When he finally felt the ground under his feet, he found that the mysterious figure was a young man working at the nearest store – Pedro. He greeted the boy who quickly looked away as he noticed Jane's nudity.

- Thank you for your concern, Pedro, but I'm alright. Go back to your home and have a good night's sleep. - Jane said while putting his clothes on. Pedro hesitated for a moment, but then obediently went back to the town, leaving Jane alone with a storm inside him.

As soon as the boy's shadow disappeared behind dunes, he looked up at the sky, hoping to once again see Lisbon's face. But she was gone. All that was left was an unimaginably huge hole in his heart.

He knew exactly what could temporarily ease the pain.

A short moment later, he was back at his apartment, brewing a cup of tea. Since the Mendelssohn's case he had always had a bag of this sweetly scented leaves with him. He sat at the table and quickly drank the tea, burning his mouth in the process.

- It's so hot here. Don't you have any AC?

He turned his head and found her sitting on the windowsill and fanning herself with her hand. He didn't answer her rhetorical question, being too stunned by this image. Dark brown hair made a wonderful contrast with her skin, almost as white as the nightgown she was wearing. Somehow she reminded him of romantic aesthetics – unrequited love, mysticism, pain, beauty.

- Why am I here? - She asked, a tone of sadness in her voice. - Why are you seeing me and not your daughter or wife like you used to?

- I've already told you. By killing Red John I closed that stage of my life. Now I'm in a new place and apparently you're meant to be here with me.

- You don't believe in fate. - Her comment made his mouth curve into a smile, but his eyes tear up. Even Lisbon from his subconscious knew him better than he knew himself. - What do you want me to do? You wouldn't get high without a reason.

- I want you to help me. - He finally replied, watching her carefully as she walked towards him and crouched down in front of him. - It's been almost seven months since I fled and I think it's time to write you a letter, but I don't know what words should I use to make you hate me less.

- Well, first of all, I don't hate you. I might be mildly disappointed, but I miss you more than am angry with you.

He couldn't help but touch her cheek and caress it gently. The look in her eyes immediately changed and she moved closer, supporting her weight on his thighs.

- It's gonna be alright. It's only temporary. You're gonna come back. - She whispered into his lips, her words leaving a bittersweet taste on his tongue. - At least we're under the same sky.