This is it! Thanks for all the support along the way!

There was too much traffic. Lisbon abandoned the taxi and jogged the last block to the auction house. The garden with the overpriced figurines couldn't mean anything else. It was easy enough to puzzle out, if you had the proper context. She hadn't even told Pike about how she'd bid against Jane to get his attention.

The memory made her smile. They had come a long way since then.

There were some events going on, but the garden trails covered a lot of ground. He could be waiting for her anywhere, she was running just a few minutes late. She moved quickly along the paths, peering for him, hoping for a glance of his three piece suit.

He wasn't there.

She came back by the auction tents, less certain. It didn't make sense for him to be loitering where there was a higher concentration of people. Then again, he really didn't have anything to worry about. He had been right, with the way he had left things they had no reason to pursue him.

Unless… had Pike and Hightower lied to put her at ease? Did they have her followed? Had they already picked him up? Her anxiety increased as he failed to appear.

Someone waved to her as her eyes passed over a row of seats. She had to concentrate to focus. A different blond head than she was expecting. She came closer and Wylie signaled to the auctioneer before rising to meet her at the back of the tent.

"Agent Lisbon, hi," he seemed a little nervous.

"Jason. I thought you were in class."

"You did? Oh. I was, but Mr. Jane asked me to come here after."

"He did?"

Jason nodded awkwardly. Then gestured back to the seats. "Come sit down."

"Wait," she reached out to stop him. "Those were your drones. And you set up the tracking device."

"Did it work?" He looked excited for a moment, then flipped into a frown. "I mean, I'm not in trouble, am I? We were just messing around. He never told me exactly what it was for. He's been really nice to me, I'm just —"

"No. Jason, you helped solve an ongoing case. You did good."

"I did?" He smiled again. "I've always wondered what it would be like to work for the FBI."

"I could talk to them if you'd like."

"Would you? I'm graduating soon."

"Of course. I don't work for them directly, but I know people."

"Wow. Thanks!" He was much more relaxed.

"Hey. What's going on here?" she asked gently. "Where's Jane?"

He shrugged. "He sent me a list… They're waiting for you." He pointed back to the tent.

"They are? Why?"

"I'm supposed to tell you… 'It's a surprise. The good kind. Trust me.'"

Lisbon smiled at his delivery.

There were several empty seats, but the event was well attended. She saw a lot of suits and flowing dresses. At a glance she suspected these people had money to burn. The auctioneer nodded at her as they took their seats. She smiled back uncertainly.

"Next up," he addressed the group. "A very special item — a painting by our very own Patrick Jane. As a serious collector and benefactor, we know his taste is impeccable." There was a smattering of excited conversation at the announcement. "A last minute addition, allow me to read his description."

She perked up as an attendant carried in an easel, the painting covered by a white cloth.

"'Inspired by Manet. Though it pales in comparison, know that it is no less true. Sorry I couldn't get you the real one.'" He stared at the description a little longer as speculative whispers made their way around. He glanced at Lisbon before continuing. "Clearly he wanted the painting to speak for itself. Shall we?"

He tugged the cloth aside. There were a few laughs. Lisbon was frozen with emotion. He had copied A Bouquet of Violets. The execution was rudimentary, he was no master. But she felt the significance deep in her soul. She had expressed an interest in this piece and he had found a creative way to give it to her, lawfully. Her own bouquet of everlasting flowers, painted by his hand.

"Right," the auctioneer didn't sound so sure. "Remember this is for charity, let's make it count. One of a kind. Who will start at $200?"

She snapped back to reality. It could only be hers if she bought it, apparently. She didn't have a way to bid. Before she could ask, Wylie passed her a numbered paddle and a credit card with Jane's name on it. "No limit," he whispered.

"We've got $200, who will make it $300? The frame is worth at least that much," he joked. He acknowledged a bidder. "Going for $400."

Lisbon hesitated. She looked around, but didn't see anything posted to answer her question. She raised her hand. "Excuse me? What's the charity?"

The auctioneer paused, surprised at the interruption. "Ah. Pardon me, it's in the booklet." Lisbon shrugged at him, she didn't have a booklet. He looked down at his own copy and read, "The proceeds of this auction benefit the California Bureau of Investigation. Did you have a bid? We're at $400."

She blinked. The setting faded out for a moment as she stared at the painting and thought about everything and nothing. A very nice surprise, indeed. It was incredibly endearing and wonderful and amazing.

"Ma'am?" the auctioneer tried to get her attention.

Lisbon breathed out, long and slow. He didn't know it, but Jane was about to make one hell of a donation to the CBI.

She raised her paddle. "Five million dollars."

It was suddenly very quiet.

The auctioneer removed his glasses to peer at her. "Pardon?"

She gestured with her paddle. "I want the painting for five million dollars. May I have it now?"

"Uh, certainly, madam." He pounded his gavel. "Sold to the lady for five million."

"Do I take it now?"

"Well," he appeared a bit lost.

Wylie shot up out of his seat and held out his hand for the credit card. "I'll take care of the payment."

"Then by all means," he gestured to the easel. An attendant with gloved hands carefully lifted it and directed Lisbon to a padded table off to the side where he could set it down. The auction continued behind them.

Lisbon glanced around again. Still no sign of Jane.

"Congratulations on your purchase," the attendant said warmly, then left her alone. She watched him go, deciding he had nothing to do with whatever was happening here. She looked down at the painting.

There had to be more to it. If he wasn't here, this painting was a clue to his whereabouts. The man couldn't do anything the easy way.

The textured whirls of paint gave nothing away. His signature was clear in one corner. The painted letter was as illegible here as it was in the original. What was she missing?

"Excuse me?" an older lady approached from the side.

Lisbon's attention flicked to her, another familiar face. "Doris?" How many people were in on this?

"Hello, dear. Good to see you again. Always glad to see you spending Mr. Jane's money. I thought I would have an easier time of it today, seeing that he's not here."

"I'm sorry, were you bidding on this?"

She waved a hand in dismissal. "The painting itself, ehhh," she squeaked. "That frame however… As the auctioneer pointed out, it is quite handsome. I'd be willing to pay a tidy sum for it."

Lisbon turned back to it, seeing the frame for the first time. It was burnished wood, ornate with textured filigree. Along the interior edges, incorporated into the design, were a series of small X's.

She peered closer, impatient. "How do I get it off?"

"No rush, dear. I could arrange to have it picked up at your leisure."

Lisbon turned it the frame over, fingers moving over the joins, trying to figure out the trick of it.

"Have a care, please." Doris said, alarmed.

Lisbon caught sight of Wylie coming back. She waved him over. "Jason, help me. I need the frame removed."

He said nothing, making quick work of it with a tool he pulled from his pocket. He lifted the canvas out and handed it to Lisbon. She held up the painting, stepping out to catch the natural light at the edge of the tent.

"Dear… the frame?" Doris asked in the background.

"Take it," Lisbon told her, distracted. There was writing on the borders, a slanted, fancy text with loops and whirls. She squinted to make it out.

My dearest Teresa ~ the world was watching, but you are the only one who saw me. I love you. Thank you for everything. Forgive me.

She found herself reading it aloud as the words cemented in her brain. "Forgive me?"

There were a number of things he could bear to be forgiven for, but this felt like a new offense. Something she didn't know about yet.

Her eyes found Wylie. He was looking away, nervous again.

"Jason, where is Jane?" She couldn't bear the apology she saw in his demeanor. "How much do you know?"

"Nothing, really. And, uh… I'm supposed to offer you a ride."

A flare of hope. "To where?"

His forehead creased in uncertainty. "Wherever you want to go."

With a sinking feeling, she pushed the painting into his hands and pulled out the burner phone. This was starting to feel like a goodbye, and every passing moment took him farther away.

I got your message. Where are you?

She stared at her outgoing message for what felt like ages, but was likely less than a minute. No reply.

Jane, answer me. What happened to whatever we want? I'm here, dammit.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she stabbed at the buttons and put through a call to his number. A robotic voice informed her that voicemail wasn't available. He hadn't bothered to set it up. He had probably thrown out the phone already.

She called his regular line and was notified it was disconnected.

She squeezed her eyes closed and held the phone in a tight fist. He had run after all. There was nothing for her here. She looked back at Wylie. "Can you take me to the airport?"

X

It was well into the evening by the time she approached the ticketing counter.

"One ticket for Sacramento, please," she said solemnly.

The attendant started tapping at her computer.

"Will you need a return flight?"

"No."

"Do you have any luggage to check?"

"No."

"The earliest flight leaves in two hours. That all right?"

"Fine."

"You're all set for Terminal 4, Gate 42A. Here's a map and a shuttle schedule."

"Great."

The attendant paused and peered at her. "Sorry, are you okay?"

Lisbon managed a watery smile. "Just peachy."

X

The city was lit up beneath her as the plane reached cruising altitude, but she couldn't find the ability to care if it was pretty or whatever. Her hands trembled as she tried to drink from her water bottle.

Everything had happened so quickly. She had been willing to give up so much, and now she had nothing. She struggled to keep her tears in check, but night flights always felt isolating.

A flight attendant came down the aisle and stopped at her row. "Excuse me, miss?"

She wasn't alone in the row, but the attendant was looking right at her. Lisbon pointed to herself, questioning.

"Yes, 12B. You've been upgraded to first class. Follow me."

"I think there's been a mistake."

"No mistake." She waited expectantly while Lisbon gathered her painting and her purse and climbed over the person on the aisle.

Lisbon had never traveled first class before. It wasn't allowed on the CBI budget, and the flight between L.A. and Sacramento was too short to be worth the extra expense.

She watched with curiosity as the attendant led her through the curtain into the land of legroom and fully reclining plush seats. It was a far cry from Jane's Gulfstream, but still nice.

The attendant stopped and gestured towards an empty row. "Here you are."

"You're sure there's no mistake?"

She smiled in return and opened the overhead bin to put away the portfolio. "Would you like a drink?"

"Tequila." An occasional closed-case standard, it seemed appropriate.

There were two seats together. Lisbon glanced around, looking for any familiar faces in the cabin, but with the dim lighting and more private seating, she saw no one. She sat by the window, seeking her own privacy to wallow in her emotions.

"Ah, there you are!" Walter Mashburn sat down next to her, holding a drink. He was wearing a bright red turtleneck shirt, and looked like he was ready for a party.

"Walter. Did you…"

"Rescue you from coach? Yes, that was me."

"What are you doing here?"

"Going to Sacramento. I have some business there."

"Don't you have your own jet?"

"Of course. Change of scenery every now and again, good for the soul."

She smirked. "What's her name?"

"You wound me. Truly." He clutched at his chest theatrically.

"Your drink, Miss." The attendant caught Walter's eye as she reached across to deliver Lisbon's tequila. He grinned back and watched her walk away.

"Is it Mira by any chance?" Lisbon chided him, reading the name on her badge.

"You are perceptive, aren't you? I thought I was used to that, being Patrick's friend." She froze at the name. "Sorry, that was insensitive of me. You're leaving. Did you have a falling out?"

"How did you know I was on this flight?"

"I'm Walter Mashburn. I know things," he said flippantly.

She held her glass close, relishing the cold. She shook her head. "I don't know what happened. Maybe there are no happy endings for people like us."

"Well, now, that outlook won't get you very far in life."

Silence stretched between them as Lisbon swirled the ice in her glass. She attempted a smile. "I'm not good company right now, and it's a short flight. Go on, you have more interesting people to talk to."

"I couldn't possibly."

"Please, Walter. Thank you for the upgrade. I just… I need some space right now."

He hesitated, then leaned in. "Things will get better."

Near tears, she waved him away. He squeezed her knee and left.

Lisbon caught her reflection in the window and closed the blinds. This was why she didn't let anyone close. They never stayed, and it hurt too much. She didn't realize she was crying until she felt something brush against her elbow. The person sitting behind her was offering a handkerchief.

"You don't need to cry there, lassie."

She took it, mostly to be polite, but her instincts were piqued. The accent was a bit over the top. Then she noticed the monogram. PJ. First Class be damned, she whirled in her seat and stared boldly at the man behind her.

Jane shrugged back. "Hello, Lisbon."

She was over the seat and in his lap without thought, rigid with anger. "Did you set this up?" she accused. The seat was wide enough, she straddled his knees, sitting back on her heels.

"I know, you don't know whether to hug me or hit me —"

She slugged him in the shoulder, then leaned into him, her breath loud in her ears. Their hands found each other, she didn't want to let go. She had so many questions. "I thought you were gone."

He stroked her hair. "I had to be sure."

"Of what? You knew I was coming."

"I hoped. You're still a mystery to me." He licked his lips. "But I really wasn't sure how the FBI would react."

"From where I was standing, they were ready to offer you a job. But I didn't fully trust it either. It wasn't so long ago I would have arrested you myself."

"Well, I'm glad we're past that."

"Are we? I'll tell you what. You pull any more stunts, I'll punch you in the nose."

"I like it when you get all authoritarian on me."

She snuggled into him. "What's next?"

"I need to lay low for awhile."

Her hand tensed in his. "Where will you go?"

"Sacramento." She leaned back in surprise. "You have room at your place for a displaced billionaire?" he looked so hopeful.

"You're staying?"

"No where else I want to be."

Was he really asking to move in with her? She was surprised to realize that she didn't mind at all. They would figure it out as they went. "So… when they come looking for you and you're living with a cop…"

"You're the perfect character witness. I can't possibly get into any trouble staying with you."

"I'll believe it when I see it," she huffed. "You'll get bored."

"Not likely. Besides, I put away my first bad guys today. I think I might have a future in law enforcement."

She shivered at the thought, or maybe that was his hand pinching her waist. "You know, detective work is usually a lot of methodical interviews and team work. You need to tell people what you're planning."

"Sounds like I could spice things up." He pulled her closer, brushed her lips with his own. "I don't need secrets anymore," he whispered.

She closed the gap and kissed him. She felt light, like she was finally letting go. Jane knew her, understood her. Loved her. No more looking back. Whatever happened from here, they could face it together.