AN: This is it y'all, the last chapter! Thank you all so much for sticking with this story! I appreciate it more than you know! :)
Patrick Jane was still pacing around his motel room, hours later. It hadn't taken long to put away all of his things from the week, nothing good was on TV, and he had finished his book, leaving him with lots of time to think. Sitting down with a cup of tea had proven useless, the usual calm getting lost in the maze of thoughts swirling around in his head. So instead, he walked around the tiny room, not talking, not doing anything but thinking. And naturally, his thoughts went to Teresa.
Teresa Lisbon found herself in a similar state, unable to sleep, sitting on the couch in her living area, typing and retyping drafts of the same message to Jane. Just when it seemed like she was going to settle on one, she would erase it and rewrite. Over and over. Weighing her options, she decided it wouldn't do her any good to send it, but then again, it wasn't every day that a girl got to attempt to change a friendship to a relationship.
Jane walked and walked until he got tired, eventually leaving his room to pace the outside hallway of the motel, thinking of nothing but Lisbon. Was it really all for show? He knew Teresa, and he knew she wasn't naturally inclined to be open about a relationship. She seemed to take the whole fake marriage pretty seriously, to the point where he wondered if she was joking. What was it she said to him? Were they just a means to an end? It was true that he had some struggles with relationships, never seeming to be quite ready to give up the memory of his old life.
After what felt like a million rewrites of one text message, Lisbon threw her cracked phone on the coffee table in disgust. When had she become one of those women to obsess over the tiniest things? God, it was like she was back in high school. Pulling apart messages, reading between the lines, it just wasn't like her. Something about her errant behavior frustrated her beyond reason, unable to pinpoint the exact cause. The longer she thought about it, Lisbon realized that the cause of her unusual behavior wasn't something, but rather someone. Patrick Jane.
Jane's mind had circled back to the way she had opened to him in that week, more so than she had in the years he had known her. The moment he met her, Jane had gotten a sense of the kind of person she was. Caring, loyal, protective to a fault. All of the things he wanted to be, but none of the things he was. He had to admit to himself that he was a broken man, jealous, narrow-minded, with tunnel vision reaching toward a goal. But that wasn't the endgame, was it? It couldn't be.
Lisbon toyed briefly with the idea of just calling him, no longer agonizing over how to write the message, and just spilling her heart to him. Maybe she just needed to sleep. Maybe it was one of those fleeting moments of vulnerability where she thought she needed to say something, but it would only make things worse.
Fluttering his hands anxiously, Jane noticed a glint off the wedding band on his left ring finger. He hadn't taken it off for the mission, it hadn't seemed like the right time. But the more his thoughts went to Lisbon, the more it seemed like the time to take it off. In all the years since the death of his family, he hadn't once removed the ring. At first, it felt like a sign of respect, a way to pay homage to their memories. Then, beyond that, it was a warning to other people. And further, it was a reminder of everything that had happened to him and why he could never go back to that life.
A flash of gold caught Lisbon's eye as she held the phone again, reading old messages between her and Jane. The low light in her apartment reflected off the golden band still on her finger, and the sight of it made her want to cry. She hadn't noticed in all the commotion that it was still there, a steady reminder of who she had become. Eyeing it uneasily, it was all the confirmation that she needed. Without looking back, she hit send on her message, anxiously waiting for Jane's response.
By the fifth time he had walked the hallway, Jane had gone back to his motel room, staring uncomfortably at the ring. Was it right to wear it when he had moved on? Ultimately, he decided it wasn't fair to Teresa or Angela to keep the ring on. As much a part of him as Angela was, Teresa was his future. It wouldn't be right to keep her waiting on him when he was ready. Jane slid the ring off his finger for the first time in years, putting it safely in the inside pocket of his jacket. Grabbing his keys, he ran out to his car in the parking lot.
Lisbon had been dozing, not falling into a restful slumber, but rather just floating in and out of sleep as the TV droned sounds of nighttime shows. It was much past midnight, her text having gone unread for at least an hour. She pulled the throw blanket from her couch to lay it out over herself, trying to steel her nerves into something that resembled her usual relaxed exterior.
Jane knew he had broken numerous traffic laws on the drive to her apartment, but he didn't care. Speeding tickets were the least of his concern. The only thing that mattered was Teresa. He had to get to her.
A knock sounded at her door, pulling her unceremoniously from sleep. Practically stomping to the front door, Lisbon looked through the peephole. It was Jane.
"What the hell?" she asked, yanking the door open. "Do you have any idea what time it is? I had just gone to sleep!"
She was wearing sweatpants and an oversized tee-shirt that fell to her thighs. Jane had never thought she looked more beautiful than she did now.
"Lisbon," he started, scratching the back of his head nervously. "Look, I know it's late. I'm sorry. But I have to talk to you."
"Okay," Lisbon said, opening the door wider. "Come inside, it's chilly out there."
"Can I make us some tea?"
"Sure. I know you know where everything is already, so I guess I shouldn't bother to tell you," Lisbon joked.
Jane busied himself in her kitchen, first heating the water, then adding milk to their cups, making his tea the way he learned. Lisbon watched him with piqued curiosity, he wasn't usually this quiet. Neither of them said anything, taking the first sips of their warm drinks. She ended up leading him to the living room, the two settling on opposite sides of her couch.
"Are you going to tell me what this is about?" she asked. Then, a thought occurred to her. "Are you answering my text in person?"
Jane blinked slowly. "What text?"
"The one I sent earlier. Didn't you see it?"
"Uh, no," Jane admitted. "Currently, my phone is sitting in pieces in an evidence bag somewhere. What did you want to say?"
Lisbon blushed prettily. So all her agonizing over what to say to him had gone to rot. But if it wasn't her text, why was he there?
"Oh, it's nothing," she replied, waving him off. "Unimportant. You said you had something to say?"
"Well, yes. And I thought you deserved to hear it in person."
Lisbon's heart beat like a drum in her chest. "Okay. Jane, you're making me nervous. What did you need to talk to me about?"
"This has been a long time coming, Teresa, my apologies if I don't get it out all at once."
"Jane." She put a hand on his knee. "It's okay. Whatever you want to tell me, you can."
He took a deep breath. "Teresa, I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed our time together this week. I know it hasn't been easy, and it was a little uncomfortable at times, but I really appreciate how you went out of your way to take care of me."
"I know you didn't come all the way over here to thank me," Lisbon said quietly.
"You're right. I have something else to say. Well, something else to confess, really." His heart was beating out of his chest, it wasn't like him to be so nervous!
Lisbon found herself hanging on every word he said, waiting to hear the words she hoped he was going to say. "Then tell me."
"Teresa Lisbon, I love you. I've been in love with you for a long time, years even, since we first met. I am in love with the way you talk and the way we argue and the color of your eyes. I adore your loyalty and kindness. I don't want there to be a day where we aren't together anymore."
Lisbon's eyes glistened with tears.
"And I wasn't sure if you felt the same way, and it scares me, but I am in love with you. Completely, deliriously, head-over-heels in love with you, Teresa. I just had to tell you."
"Jane," she whispered hollowly.
"You don't have to say anything right now. In fact, you don't have to say anything at all." He scooted closer to her on the couch, taking her hand in his. "But look. I took off the ring. It was time. You're my future, Teresa. It's time for me to stop living in the past."
Tears flowed silently down her face now, brought to the surface by the raw emotion coursing between them where they were holding hands. He pulled her to him in a tight embrace.
Teresa's voice was quiet, no louder than a whisper. "I love you too, Patrick. So much."
It was then that he caught a glimpse of her left hand, the ring from the undercover mission still in its place on her finger.
"You kept it?" he breathed.
Lisbon laughed. "In all the commotion from earlier, I didn't even realize I was still wearing it. You get used to it after a little while, I didn't notice it was still there." She moved to slide it off her hand, but Jane stilled her movements.
"You don't have to give it back, do you?"
"No, I don't think so," Lisbon said, puzzled. "Why?"
He twisted the band off her left hand and moved it to her right, slipping it into place on her ring finger. "Because I'm rather attached to it. Think of it as a promise ring. You can keep it here, on this hand, until you're ready for me to get you a real one."
"Is that a proposal, Mr. Jane?" she teased.
"Not a proposal, just a promise. The proposal will be a surprise, but only when you're ready."
Teresa laughed and smiled. "Patrick? Will you say it again?"
"Say what?"
She gave him a pointed glance. "You know what."
"How much I love you? I'll say it again every day if it makes you happy. That's the only thing I want, Teresa, I want you to be happy. I don't want to feel like we have to go back to our normal lives, I want this, the two of us, to be our normal life. Because I have never felt more right than when I'm with you."
"Beautiful," she whispered. "Almost as eloquent as the first time."
"And I'll say it a million different ways until you grow tired of it."
"I'll never get tired of hearing you say that."
She leaned towards him on the couch, his hand cupping her chin and gently pulling her closer for a kiss. A real one this time, not just a ploy to keep up their relationship in front of other people. Now, there was no one they had to show, their feelings were theirs and theirs alone, private and kept safe from the world.
As they sat on her couch in the dim light, Patrick's arms around Teresa, she realized for the first time what love felt like. It was electric, a live wire coursing through both of their systems and pulling them together in a burst of energy. She felt it in her lips as they kissed and he felt it in his hands as he held her in a hug.
Patrick was right, she thought, remembering his comment from earlier. They really did fit together.
Just like puzzle pieces.
