A/N: Apologies for keeping you waiting so long. As most of you know, I'm a teacher, and school started for me last week so things have been pretty busy. Anyway, I am thankful for all of you who read and reviewed the last chapter. Now, here we are at the conclusion of this fic. It's felt really good to be back "home" with this fandom, and such a blessing to feel the love from you good people. So, thanks for that. Now, I hope you enjoy this conclusion. Hopefully I tied up all the loose ends and you feel satisfied by this reboot. Thanks again for giving this fic a chance, especially those new to my writing.

Chapter 9: Conclusion and Epilogue

When the first muffled shot filled the hot desert evening, Rigsby and Van Pelt looked at each other, then took off toward the limo at a dead run. At the second shot, they were ducking at the rear of the vehicle, peeking up to try to see past the dark tinting of the windows. Without need for speech, the pair nodded to one another, communicating with eyes and gesture before proceeding slowly toward the front of the car, keeping their heads below the windows. Just as Van Pelt was reaching up to try to open the driver's side door where she knew Jane had been sitting, the door came open, and Jane fell out, Lorelei's gun clattering to the hot pavement beside him.

"Jane!" cried Van Pelt, for she was looking down at the red flower blossoming quickly on his right shoulder. "Jesus, he's hit," she called to Rigsby. She pulled Jane out of the way of the car up onto the sidewalk after kicking the door closed behind them.

"How many times?" called Rigsby.

She did a quick once over Jane's body.

"Don't you want to take me to dinner first?" said Jane groggily.

"He's only been shot once, that I can see," Van Pelt called to Rigsby, who was still ducking down on the other side of the car.

There had been two shots.

"Jane, did you shoot him?" asked Van Pelt.

"Yeah," said Jane, and he laid down on the hot sidewalk and closed his eyes.

Van Pelt put her hands on his wound, applying pressure to try to stop the bleeding.

Inside the house, Cho looked from a bleeding Jane on the sidewalk to Lisbon. For once, Lisbon knew by his expression that something was definitely wrong.

"Jane's down."

She stared at him in shock, and Cho took out his pocket knife and cut her free.

Without saying a word to him, she took off her gag and went to the kitchen table where they'd put the Earl's gun. Cho watched helplessly as she left with it. Someone had to stay inside with Lorelei and her henchman.

"Too bad about Patrick," said Lorelei from her place on the couch. "It didn't have to go this way."

"Shut up," said Cho, and watched the drama play out in the front of the house.

Lisbon kept low to the ground, unsure of what was happening, despite appearances and Cho's running narrative. All she knew was that Jane was lying still and pale on the sidewalk, and Van Pelt's hands were covered with the blood flowing out of his shoulder. But there was no time to see to him herself; Red John was still in that limo.

"We count to three, then we open the doors," ordered Lisbon.

"Okay," said Rigsby. "But I think they're locked."

Lisbon went to the driver's side door, opened it, then reached for the door lock, quickly unlocking the backseat doors before stepping back, her weapon aimed toward the back of the limo. It was awfully dark back there; no movement at all, the expected gunshots not mowing her down. Catching Rigsby's eye, she nodded, and at the same time, they each opened a back door, guns at the ready.

A man was slumped over, nearly lying on his side on the seat. His startling blue eyes were fixed and dark, blood from the hole over his heart slowly seeping through his white dress shirt. Lisbon gasped as recognition hit her. She met Rigsby's eyes across the expanse of the back seat.

"He's that sheriff from-from Napa County," she said, her voice shaky with shock and wonder. "McNeil, McDonald—"

"McAlister," said Jane, standing next to her now, his hand pressing his wadded up suit coat against his wound.

Van Pelt joined them at the door. "Red John was a sheriff? Oh God! I remember this guy." She shuddered. "Gave me the creeps."

"Good instincts, Grace," said Jane, feeling oddly envious. He'd felt uneasy around the sheriff, but never had he suspected McAlister was Red John. He should have listened to his own instincts, pursued the guy further. He stared into the dead man's blank eyes, willing the relief to course through his body, the pain of the loss of his family to ease. It didn't. And now it was exacerbated by the burning throb in his shoulder.

"Explains how he's gotten away with it," said Rigsby. "Someone in law enforcement is privy to information. Could fix things to his advantage…"

"I beat him at Rock, Paper, Scissors," said Jane, suddenly remembering, and then he laughed-one short burst of hysteria before he leaned into Lisbon and nearly brought both of them to their knees.

"I believe I'd like to see a doctor now," he said, and Lisbon and Van Pelt woke up from their momentary daze to hold Jane up.

"Open the garage door," said Lisbon to Rigsby. "We need to get him to the ER. I'll send someone from Vegas PD."

"Right, Boss."

As if they had come upon her wish, two competing sirens sounded in the distance, and the three CBI agents looked up to see a pair of squad cars turning off the highway, speeding onto their street.

"Darcy," muttered Jane by way of explanation. She had no doubt sent them when she'd gotten into calling range. Maybe Earl had suggested Red John might be showing up.

Lisbon nodded. "Well, that doesn't change our plans any. Van Pelt, you'll drive."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I'm really sorry, Boss," said Van Pelt sheepishly from the driver's seat of the SUV. "I should have untied you."

"Yes," said Lisbon coldly from the backseat, "you should have."

Jane was laying with his head in her lap, a dish towel pressed over his wound. The Vegas officers had loaned her their first aid kit, and she'd taped him up for the ride, but blood was already seeping through the bandage. She was really concerned about his blood loss and the paleness of his skin, her worry competing as it often had over the years with her deep anger with the bastard.

She'd left Cho and Rigsby to deal with the fallout at the crime scene and to handle the transport of the prisoners, and the dead body, but she didn't feel the least bit sorry about it. She was pissed off with them too, and when she finally had a moment to sort things out, she'd think of a really good plan of vengeance of her own.

"Don't be too mad at them," said Jane, reading her mind.

She looked down into his blue-green eyes, clouded now with pain, and she frowned.

"Maybe I'll just take it all out on you," she said tightly, but her hand was brushing back a stray curl from his clammy forehead. To her horror, she felt her eyes water, and she blinked them away angrily. Residual adrenalin, she told herself.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for my part in this," he said softly.

"An apology from you isn't worth much, Jane."

He grinned up at her, and she fought the urge to kiss him. Or maybe it would have felt better to punch him in the nose; it was a toss-up.

"Nevertheless, it's sincere. But you know why I did it; you would have tried to stop me."

"Yes, I would have." She sighed. "But I'm probably angrier at myself than I am at any of you. I should have known better than to let you tie me to that damn chair. I know you can't be trusted when it comes to Red John."

He couldn't argue with that.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, taking her hand. "I promise never to tie you to a chair again. Unless, of course, you ask me to."

Lisbon looked up in embarrassment at Van Pelt, meeting her startled eyes in the rearview mirror. Van Pelt's gaze skittered away and she turned on the radio to a soft rock station, a polite attempt to offer them a bit of privacy.

"Stop that," hissed Lisbon down at Jane. His grin widened, then faltered as a wave of pain shot from his shoulder. Lisbon winced as his hand tightened on hers.

"Shit," he gasped.

"We'll be there soon," she said, "hang on."

After a few minutes, he seemed to drift off, but Lisbon had a sudden, frantic fear that he wouldn't wake up again. She shifted beneath his head and his eyes opened slowly once more.

"I meant what I said," he whispered hoarsely.

"Shhh…I accept your apology, Jane."

"No," he said. "The other thing."

Her eyes widened, and she suddenly remembered what the other thing was. The most important thing he'd ever said to her, and she'd somehow blocked it out. Maybe because it had been paired with one of his usual lame ass apologies. Her face grew warm, her eyes softening. He could have pretended he'd never said it, could have blamed it on the drama of the moment.

"That's just the blood loss talking." She was giving him an out, though her heart was tripping erratically.

He shook his head. "I wanted to make sure you knew I meant it, in case…"

"Shut the hell up," she said, tears falling unabated now. "You've just been shot in the shoulder. Same thing happened to me a year ago and I'm just fine."

"You never know," he said.

"I know," she countered, though he was right. Anything could happen during a surgery. But for the second time in as many days, she didn't feel like believing in the logical, practical thing. "Now, shut up and rest."

And, Van Pelt be damned, Lisbon bent and kissed his cold forehead.

"Hey Teresa," he said groggily, as a drowsy warmth suffused him. "I'm free…"

This time, she couldn't wake him up again. "Jane?" He was so damn cold. She wrapped her arms around him, wishing she'd thought to bring his bloody jacket.

"Van Pelt, could you maybe step on it a little more." She must have been going 80 already, but she didn't argue.

"Yes, ma'am."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

While Jane was in surgery, Lisbon visited Earl, who was sitting up in a hospital bed. Wainwright was sitting in the room with him, his broken ankle propped on a chair. Darcy had just left for the crime scene, and Lisbon wasn't sorry she had missed her.

"Wanna see my stitches?" Earl asked dryly, sliding back his blanket to point to his bandaged thigh, just visible below his hospital gown.

She declined. "Your boss is dead," she announced, and Earl's face fell.

"If you mean Red John, I'm glad. And he's not my boss. How did it happen?"

Wainwright was looking on in keen interest.

"Jane shot him in self-defense."

"You sure about that?" asked Wainwright.

"Yes. Jane was shot too."

Lisbon recounted the events as she knew them, ignoring the niggling doubt Wainwright had planted in her mind. Who had shot first in that limo? Maybe there were some things she didn't need to know.

"Jesus," said Earl. "He was a fuckin' sheriff?"

"Yeah. We worked with him before on a case in Napa. Couple of serial killers." Lisbon shook her head at the irony. "I can't believe we were so close to him."

"Guess Jane isn't as good at reading people as he claims to be," said Wainwright.

Lisbon's eyes grew cold, and it was all she could do not to tear into the younger man.

"That's not fair," Earl said, surprising Lisbon and Wainwright both. "Red John was a murdering psychopath. If he was in law enforcement, he fooled a lot of good people."

She turned grateful eyes on her one-time lover, and suddenly her doubts about him flew out the window. Wainwright frowned in annoyance.

"Well, at any rate, Lisbon, you and your whole team are on mandatory suspension until an independent investigation can clear you all."

"How are they going to do that, exactly? Red John probably had his fingers in every law enforcement agency in California. I've met some of his followers; it was like they were in a cult. This thing probably goes deeper than any of us could possibly have imagined, except maybe Jane."

"Well, it's not your concern at the moment, Lisbon. I'm leaving for Sacramento on the first flight tomorrow morning. I trust you and the others will make your own arrangements home. I'll be in touch." He rose, reaching for the crutches propped against Earl's bed. Lisbon didn't bother helping him.

When he'd gone from the room, Lisbon moved to Earl's side.

"Thanks for defending Jane like that," she said. "Especially since he's responsible for those stitches of yours."

"Oh, well, Wainwright's an asshole. Sorry about Jane though, truly. I hope he makes it through the surgery all right."

"Me too." She took Earl's hand. "And I'm sorry about your leg, and for suspecting you, and if we screwed anything up for you."

Earl smiled. "Don't worry about me. I've been doing my job. I'm glad that bastard is dead. I only wish I had been there to see it happen."

"No you don't. It was a mess. I have no idea how this is all going to get sorted out, how any of us can trust anyone now."

"You can trust me, Teresa," he said softly, and she smiled.

"I know. And I still owe you that dinner."

"Yes, you do. But I'm thinking Jane might have something to say about that."

She blushed. "Jane doesn't tell me who my friends are."

"Aw," he said, smiling wistfully. "I've been friend zoned. That's okay, Teresa, as long as you're happy, I'll be happy for you. But if he ever gets you stuck in one of his booby traps, you know who you can call."

"Yes, I do. Thanks again, Earl. For everything." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Lobster," he said, and she pulled back, startled. "I deserve a huge lobster dinner for this. Oh, and a big ass juicy T-bone."

She grinned. "You certainly do."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Jane was just as bad of a patient as he had ever been. He was grumpy and demanding and anxious to leave. To top that off, he had trouble keeping his hand (the one that was not in a sling) to himself whenever Lisbon was in the room, and she knew it was mainly because he was bored.

"Idle hands…" she admonished, when he'd reached for her after the nurse had checked his vitals. She stepped away a safe distance.

"Well if I could get the hell out of here, I wouldn't have to be so idle, would I?"

"You won't be able to use both hands for some time no matter where you are. Besides, I'm still pissed at you."

"No, you're not."

He watched her as she sat in the chair beneath the window of his hospital room, the sun glinting off the traces of red and gold in her hair. Despite his pain and confinement, the enormity of what he had done had finally sunk in, and he was finally feeling the relief he had longed for since his wife and daughter had been murdered. He had found them justice, and though he had once longed for the satisfaction of feeling Red John's life drain out beneath his hands, the result, he acknowledged, was much the same.

He was happier than he had been in years, and he was only a bad patient because he was anxious now for his life to begin, to emerge from the holding pattern he'd been stuck in for nearly a decade. He was in love with Teresa Lisbon, and though she hadn't yet voiced the sentiment herself, he was certain his feelings were returned. But she was a stubborn woman, his Lisbon.

She picked up a magazine she'd bought at the hospital gift shop, and pretended to read.

"Come here," he said, his voice low and seductive.

She didn't look up. "I don't think so. I wouldn't want to impede the healing process."

"Haven't you ever heard of sexual healing, Lisbon?"

She rolled her eyes, and was saved from further temptation by the arrival of the rest of her team. Rigsby and Van Pelt's faces were flushed and glowing, and even Cho had an amused glint in his eyes. Over the last few days her anger had dissipated, and she'd come to the grudging conclusion that the world was better off without Red John. Although the right thing under the law would have been to bring him in to face justice, she was glad they didn't have to face the torment of a long, drawn-out trial, or the possibility he would have been freed on a technicality or the jury snowed by expensive defense attorneys.

"What's up with you guys?" Lisbon asked. When she'd given them the news that they were all suspended, they'd all decided to stay a few more days in Vegas. None of them had had a vacation in a while.

Now, Van Pelt held out her left hand, a tasteful diamond set in white gold adorning her finger, alongside a simple matching wedding band. Rigsby wore a similar ring of his own.

"We visited a wedding chapel today," she announced trying to tamp down her excitement. She was failing miserably.

Jane grinned. "Congratulations!"

Lisbon smiled, and stood up to hug the happy couple. "Congratulations!"

"It was a spur of the moment thing," said Rigsby. "Well, not that I haven't thought of it every day for the last five years. But then there was Sarah and the baby, and well…you guys know the whole story. We're finally in a good place, and—"

"I approve," Lisbon interrupted, laughing. "You don't have to explain, really. We all get it. But you know what this means, don't you? One of you will have to leave the team." They hypocrisy of that statement hit her, and she avoided Jane's eyes.

"Or both of us will," said Van Pelt, her face falling.

"What?"

"We've heard rumors from friends back home in the CBI," explained Cho. "Looks like they might have to disband the agency, at least temporarily, until they can figure out how deeply Red John had infiltrated it."

They all went silent in the fallout from this bombshell.

"They're bringing in the FBI to begin an investigation," Cho added grimly.

"Why hasn't Wainwright called me about this?" said Lisbon.

"He's been reassigned," said Cho.

"Good God," said Lisbon, and sat heavily back in the high-backed chair, her elbows resting on her knees, hands covering her cheeks in dismay.

Jane looked around at his friends, hating that he was the cause of all this. He swallowed hard, his happiness dimming at the sad faces around him.

"No one blames you," said Cho perceptively. "At least not much."

"Well, they shouldn't at all," said Lisbon, dropping her hands. "Because of Jane, Red John is dead and his entire network can be exposed now. And God only knows how many more murders he's prevented."

"Lisbon—" Jane began.

"No, it's true. But I guess this is the only way, really, isn't it? A purge of some kind. I imagine we'll be next, even if we're cleared of all charges."

"What'll we do, Boss?" asked Rigsby.

She looked at the glum expressions and made her own face brighten. "We'll figure that out later. In the meantime, we have something to celebrate, don't we?"

Cho held up the bag he'd brought in with him in agreement. It contained a bottle of chilled champagne and five plastic wine glasses. He popped the cork over the bathroom sink and filled everyone's glass.

"To Wayne and Grace," Cho toasted. "It's about damn time."

Everyone laughed and drank, but after Lisbon's mothering caution, Jane only took a polite sip of his bubbly because of all the pain meds he was on. He grumbled, but was secretly delighted that she was taking care of him.

After the three younger people left, Jane reached for Lisbon's hand, and she let him take it. She even bent and kissed him, the happiness of the Rigsbys lifting her spirits. His left hand came up and slid into her hair, holding her head while he ardently ravaged her mouth. She pulled away, breathless, and Jane's heart was beating almost painfully.

"You gotta get me out of here," he said against her lips.

"You heard the doctor. One more day."

She squeezed his hand and sat on the edge of his bed, her lips still tingling, among other places.

"What will you do," Jane asked, rubbing her fingers with his thumb. "Without the CBI?"

"Find another job, I guess. Maybe I'll get out of California, settle in Oregon or Washington State. It's so pretty and green up there. I could find a small town police department, where the biggest crime would be teenagers shoplifting at the local dollar store."

"Sounds like heaven," he said, his heart skipping a beat at the thought of her leaving. Would he be welcome to come with her? "Do I uh, fit in anywhere in this dream scenario?"

She smiled at his look of uncertainty. "You could be my consultant, put the screws to young Johnny, get him to turn over his stolen bubble gum. But I don't think that would be enough for you, not to mention a sad waste of your talent."

"I could say the same for you," he told her. "You're meant for bigger and better things, Teresa."

She shrugged. "Nothing's been decided yet. Nothing's even official with the CBI's status either, as far as I know."

They were quiet for a moment, each trying to absorb how much things had changed over the last several days. Red John was gone. Lisbon and the team's jobs may well be history too. And she and Jane…

"I've been thinking about tomorrow, when I get out of here. I have no place to go myself, except the lovely fleabag motel room that's paid up till the end of the month. You're welcome to join me."

She smirked. "Sounds tempting, but no thanks. I'm going back to Sacramento."

"Oh."

The silence this time was awkward, mainly because Lisbon was trying to summon the courage to invite him to go with her. She blushed, knew he must feel her pulse increase where his wrist rested against hers. She bravely met his eyes.

"Come home with me, Jane. Stay at my place until we figure out what's to become of our jobs." What's to become of us.

"Okay," he said, happier than he ever dreamed he would be again. "I guess I could do that. Thanks."

"I do have one condition though," Lisbon said, her lips hovering above his.

"What's that?"

"If you ever decide to leave again—"

"I'll take you with me," he finished, and pulled her mouth down to his.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon drove Jane's Citroen back to Sacramento, Jane in the passenger seat, given that his arm was in a sling and he was still on pretty stiff pain meds. He was just as good a passenger in his own car as he was a patient in the hospital, so Lisbon did a lot of tongue biting, knowing this was his baby he'd temporarily relinquished control over. God only knew she would never let him drive her Mustang, so she empathized completely and only ground the gears once or twice.

Still on suspension, they had many days ahead to spend alone in Lisbon's apartment, and she was both excited and reticent about it. She'd never lived with a man before, and she was aware of how set in her ways she had become. She predicted many awkward moments, many arguments about toilet seat positions and blanket hogging. Jane too had been a decade alone, so he suspected their new situation might be too bittersweet to be enjoyable, that he really wasn't ready to live with a woman who wasn't his wife, no matter how temporary.

They were both wrong.

The moment they entered her apartment and set down their luggage in the foyer, he was kissing her breathless, fighting to hold her closer in spite of the sling and the painful pressure on his shoulder. There was nothing awkward about the way they gravitated down the short hall to her bedroom, how they shed their clothes as naturally as if they'd done it every day of their lives. They had to slow their movements considerably, however, to compensate for his injury, to allow Lisbon to help with the fine motor skills involved in unbuttoning slacks and sliding off a dress shirt. But Jane didn't mind the erotic sensation of Lisbon undressing him, especially when she followed her helping hands with sensual caresses and open mouthed kisses.

Finally, he lay gingerly on her bed, his right arm limp at his side, the large bandage hiding and protecting the healing bullet hole. Lisbon straddled him, feeling his obvious need beneath her.

"You sure about this?" she asked, looking skeptically at his shoulder.

He reached up his left hand to play with her hair where it rested just above her bare breast. His eyes found hers, dreamy with passion and adoration.

He smiled. "Just be gentle with me."

His thumb brushed over her nipple and she gasped, closing her eyes. He thrust his hips up against her, finding her slick and ready for him.

She wasn't quite as gentle as she should have been, but she didn't hear any complaints.

Epilogue

It turned out, the rumors were true, and the CBI was dissolved until the FBI could track down every one of Red John's inside people. Lorelei was transported back to California, but the FBI didn't allow Jane to question her. He took the news better than Lisbon had expected.

"I killed Red John," he said. "I'm happy now to let the cops do the clean-up work."

It was official then: they were all out of a job.

There was no question that the Rigsbys would stay in California to be near Wayne's new baby, and they spoke of plans to start their own security business. If they stayed in law enforcement, they would be confronted everywhere with the rules about couples working together on the same team or unit, so going out on their own was a more logical option for them.

Cho came by the apartment for a visit, announcing plans of his own.

"I've applied to Quantico," he said.

Lisbon smiled, genuinely happy for him. "Good for you, Kimball. You'll make a great Fed, though it kinda seems like you're selling out," she teased. There had never been any love lost between the CBI and their belligerent older sister, and they had always complained when the FBI got involved in state business.

Cho shrugged. "If you can't beat 'em…"

They'd all been cleared of wrongdoing in the Vegas debacle, so the way was clear for Cho to embark on a more rewarding career. When he'd left, Jane put his good arm around Lisbon on her couch and drew her closer to his side.

"You could do the same thing, Teresa," he said softly.

"I'm too old to start the training."

"I think not, young Jedi," Jane said with a grin. "On the contrary, I'm betting a former state agent with your experience would get a waiver on the age requirement. I bet they're short on good people these days. You should at least try. You know you want to." He saw how her eyes had lit up with envy at Cho's announcement.

"I don't know." But her heart was thumping with excitement at the prospect.

"You can't win if you don't play."

She thought about the weeks in DC she would have to be away from him before she could be assigned a field office. And that was another thing. Was he serious about staying with her? What the hell did he want to do with his life now that everything had changed so much?

"Where does that leave you?" she asked him somewhat anxiously. "You haven't talked about what you want." After all this time living for his wife and daughter's justice, he deserved to live for himself now.

He took her hand, turned on the couch to look at her. She'd noticed that his wedding ring had disappeared from his finger several days before, but neither of them had commented. That gesture alone had reassured her that he really had put his past behind him.

"Whither thou goest, Teresa, I mean it. I've just closed a door on my old life, and I am ready to move on. With you. I honestly don't care where we go, I just want to be with you. I can find something to occupy my time, don't worry about me. I'll find myself a project, or I'll finagle a new job working with you." He smiled. "I did it before, and look how great that worked out."

She raised an eyebrow at that, but there were also tears in her eyes.

"You wouldn't mind living in DC or wherever my new job takes me?"

"No." He kissed her then, his lips warm and reassuring as they moved over hers.

He released her after a few tender moments, sitting back to admire the fire he'd started in her eyes.

"I'm in love with you, and all of my many red devils have run from my heart, only to be replaced by the wonder that is you, Teresa. You're everything I want in this world. Just say the word, and I'll go and re-pack my bags."

She took a deep breath, felt her heart tremble with the words she had been afraid to say.

"I love you too," she whispered. "And I-I think I'm gonna go for it."

His blue-green gaze was suspiciously watery. "For the FBI?"

"For the FBI, sure, but you are my future now. For once in my life, I'm going for all of it, for everything I've ever wanted."

He brought her hand to his lips, felt a peaceful kind of hope settling in his heart.

"I'm in."

THE END

Many Red Devils ran from my heart

And out upon the page,

They were so tiny

The pen could mash them.

And many struggled in the ink.

It was strange

To write in this red muck

Of things from my heart.

~Stephen Crane

A/N: Thanks for reading, and for all your support of this fic. Please look for me on Twitter for a fun writing announcement, coming soon.