Note: Finally, the final chapter! Sorry it took me so long. I would like to thank those who gave reviews, especially LouiseKurylo. I value your feedback very much :D I really hope you enjoy this one. I've got more ideas for other fanfictions so stay tuned for that!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Mentalist.

"Last night I dreamt
That somebody loved me
No hope, no harm
Just another false alarm

Last night I felt
Real arms around me
No hope, no harm
Just another false alarm"

The room was dark, with a single rectangular patch of orange street light on the floor.
A piece of paper that she held in her hand was shaking. You could think it was because of the crisp night air coming through an open window, but it was her sob, silenced by the music, that actually caused this rapid trembling.

Said paper was nothing else but Jane's last letter to her. It was short in comparison to other letters he had sent her.

"My dearest Teresa,

I don't know when I will be able to write you again. I don't know if I'll even be able to do that. I can't say much. Please, don't worry about me, I have a plan.

If this letter is going to be the last one, then you should know that the things I told you that one night at the rooftop are still relevant. And if we're never going to meet again, I want you to forget me and live your life to the fullest. You deserve to have a loving husband and beautiful children. I wish you all the best.

If, however, we shall meet again, I want you to know that I still love you and I deeply hope that you still love me. Please, be patient with me.

Yours truly,

Patrick"

The song suddenly stopped as she read the letter for a hundredth time. The silence reminded her of the first time she read these words. It reminded her of the kitchen floor wet with coffee she had spilled; of the odor of her own sweat because she had stayed in the bed for an entire weekend and hadn't even showered; of the fact that food had become tasteless.

Fortunately, not even six months had passed when she had received a phone call from an FBI agent ordering her to go to Austin as soon as possible. She still remembered the events like it was yesterday:

First, she thought that it had something to do with Red John's case or that Abbott wanted something from her. On the plane she gotn a panic attack because she realized that it could have something to do with Jane.

After a couple of hours she was sat in a cold, plain room without a word of explanation. And then she heard the door open and the smell of his cologne filled her nostrils. The room started to spin and she tried to rationalize the situation, but her heart already knew that it was Jane.

She quickly turned around, maybe a bit too quickly, and she saw him. He looked nothing like the old Jane from the CBI – he had longer hair, a beard, no vest and a tropical shirt. It was odd but she didn't care. The only thing she cared about was to hug him and never let him go.

When he smiled, a shiver ran down her spine, and in a split second she ran up to him and wrapped her hands tightly around him. She barely remembered what happened next. In a matter of weeks she moved to Austin and started to work for the FBI.

Back in that empty room when they had reunited, she had thought that she would have had her happy ending. That everything would have been fine. After all, Jane still had loved her and she had still loved him. Almost three months had passed and there she was, disappointed and heartbroken.

The scent of her favorite vanilla candle calmed her down a little. A car passed by her house, making a disturbing noise. It reminded her of the time when, as a child, she used to sit on a windowsill and count the cars driving on the street. This sweet memory of her early childhood, when her mom was still alive and her family wasn't shattered by her father, brought her comfort and a warm fuzzy feeling in her stomach.

"That's enough", she thought. "Tomorrow I'm gonna go to his place and lay all things on the table. If he rejects me, fair enough. At least I'll be free to move on". In one steady motion she closed the window, took a deep breath in and wiped the tears off of her flushed cheeks. Filled with determination she turned on her laptop and sat down to write a report on the recent case.

The troubling thoughts kept occupying her mind like stormy clouds occupy the sky in the early autumn, but she tried to stay focused which didn't come as easily as she hoped it would. After only an hour she needed to take a break, so she went to the kitchen to make herself some tea. She opened a kitchen cabinet and she froze in place on the sight of a turquoise cup.

Half an hour later, she found herself on a parking lot near Jane's apartment block. It took her some time to realize where she was and how she had gotten there. She looked at the neon clock just above the car radio and sighed.

- 1 am. Tomorrow it is, might as well get it done now. - She decided and went out of the car.

Jane answered the door after five minutes when Lisbon was already turning around to walk away.

- Teresa? - He asked, shocked by her presence, and stared at her for a little too long. - What are you doing here?

- We need to talk.

All the courage that she had gathered in her heart vanished immediately after she walked into his apartment. As soon as she entered the living room, she felt a familiar sweet scent, though she couldn't recognize what it was.

- Move aside, we have a guest. - He said and waved his hand at the armchair.

- Who are you talking to? - Lisbon asked, concerned, knowing that there were alone.

- What? Oh, no one. Would you like some tea?

He didn't even wait for her answer. After a minute, he returned from the kitchen with two cups of steaming tea in his hands. Lisbon sat down next to him on the sofa.

- So what brings you here at this ungodly hour? - He asked, slowly sipping on his tea. He seemed distant, which made it even more difficult for her. She was already starting to regret coming there.

She looked into his eyes, searching for a glimpse of something that would encourage her. A sparkle of joy, a hint of affection. Anything. The silence between them was overpowering and the sweet scent that filled the room made her dizzy. His question still waited for its answer.

Only now did she really look at him and notice how much his appearance had changed after two years of being in exile. It made her heart sink to her stomach. How could she not perceive the deepened lines on his face, the messy uneven cut hair, the more loosely looking shirts on his torso.

She blushed under his intense stare. There was something disturbing about it. Some kind of insanity that she had seen in his eyes only a few times. He moved a little closer to her and she noticed that his pupils were so dilated that they almost covered his blue irises.

Then, all pieces of the puzzle fell into the right place in her mind. She took a sip of the tea and immediately spat it out.

- That's quite rude, don't you think, Lisbon? - He asked but she didn't even hear him. Her thoughts were going a hundred miles an hour.

- For how long have you been drinking Belladonna? - He tried to look hurt by this accusation but her piercing gaze made him drop the mask. - I'm still waiting, Jane.

- I've been drinking it occasionally since the Mendelssohn's case. - He confessed, looking down at his hands. - After I fled to the island it became more of a habit.

- Why? - She was more concerned than disappointed.

- If you read my letters then you know that it was a rather dark period of my life. - Little did he know that she had read every single letter so many times that she knew some of them by heart. As he said these words, he looked her in the eyes and she saw in them nothing else but sorrow - deep, kept in a cage for far too long. Then, he snorted. - It seems like my life just keeps being dark.

- Do you see her? Charlotte?

- No. Only you. - She felt weak to her knees, even though she was sitting down. His gaze was electrifying. - Since I killed him, there's been only you. Nothing else and no one else. You.

- Why haven't you done anything after we came to Austin? - She finally asked the question that had been on her mind for weeks. In response, he looked at the armchair.

- I think I've been having trouble realizing that I'm back. That the Lisbon sitting right there isn't real. I've always known that she's not you, because her skin smells like cinnamon and yours smells like oranges and rain, but the resemblance is still uncanny. - He turned and moved closer to her. The air around them became sultry. - Help me define what's real and what's not. - His voice was filled with desperation. - Please…

His fingertips started gliding against her skin. They outlined her cheekbones, jawline, temples. He hesitated before touching her soft lips. Her breath became shallow as she watched him intensively. His hands went down to her neck, shoulders and then waist, making her skin tingle. When he looked up to meet her gaze, she was sure her heart stopped beating. His face was so close to hers that she could feel his warm unsteady breath on her skin.

- Show me that you're real. - He whispered.

So she did. She closed the gap between them and forgot about everything.

She forgot what they had been through. How many times she had cried because of him. That he'd chosen a serial killer over her. That he'd run away from her. That he was high. That they both were so messed up inside. All that she thought about was how much she had missed him, how much she had longed for his touch.

He forced her down on the couch and nearly crushed her with his weight.

- I want you. - He mumbled into her mouth and moved down to her neck. - The real you. Now.

Things started escalating too quickly too soon and she got cold feet. She pushed him away and the sensation of chilly air hitting the burning hot spot Jane's lips left near her collarbone made her rethink that decision.

- You're still high on Belladonna. - She said, breathing heavily. For a moment he looked disappointed and even offended, but then he left one last soft kiss on her lips and stood up.

- It's late, you can sleep over if you want. - He said while walking off to the kitchen with the two cups.

- Thanks.

Not even half an hour had passed when they were lying in his bed, Lisbon dressed up in one of his pajama shirts. His arm was resting on her waist.

She was on the verge of sleep when he started shaking. Then, a sob escaped his throat. She turned around and instinctively wiped tears from his face. He shifted and put his head on her chest, holding her so tightly that for a moment she had trouble breathing.

Sunk in a red haze from a neon light outside the window, they clung to each other and neither of them no longer knew where their own body ended and the other one's began. They both cried, overwhelmed by their own emotions. He kissed the skin between her breasts where his tears left a wet mark and this time she didn't push him away.

She slowly unbuttoned his shirt and helped him out of it. Soon, there was nothing standing in their way. Her cheeks were still wet from crying when he whispered into her mouth.

- I love you.

- I love you. - She responded and she could feel his lips curve into a smile.

Then, they became one. And when she screamed his name, they reached their catharsis.

Falling asleep in each other's arms felt like they had been doing it since the beginning of time. The next morning was one of countless mornings they would wake up together and promise that nothing would keep them apart ever again.