Hi again! I'm sorry this is a week late, but I couldn't get the dialogue right and I didn't want the ending to be too cheesy...I hope it's not. This will be the last chapter; thank you so much to everyone who's read and reviewed this story! You made my month.

I don't own the Mentalist, but I sure wish I did.

'Thomas Lisbon,' the minister said, 'was a son to Amalia and Benjamin.' His voice floated through the silence, warm and kind. 'He was a brother to Teresa, James and Peter. And his passing is a great tragedy. But,' he paused, 'as those left behind sadly miss his presence, we also console ourselves with the knowledge that our Lord has welcomed his soul into His heavenly kingdom.' There was wisdom in his smile. 'And so,' he concluded, 'on this day, we do not mourn a death, but celebrate a life.'

Lisbon closed her eyes and smiled softly against the day, a gentle breeze stirring the sunlight on her cheeks. As the minister's words faded away, she took a deep breath and tuned in to the restless shifting of those gathered around her. So many people, the majority of them strangers but they'd greeted her with a smile and it comforted her to know that Tommy was so well-liked. There were faces missing from the crowd; Peter's wife Rebecca among them, but it was an absence she was relieved at. She didn't know whether she was capable of looking Bec in the eyes, capable of glancing down at Hayley and little Tasha and not wondering who their real father was.

It seemed a natural thing to have Jane there beside her. Five days ago she would have laughed, had someone told her that he would be the most calming presence at her brother's funeral. But the day had been a long one, and she didn't have the strength or desire to refuse his company.

'I'd like to request,' said the minister, 'for family members and close friends to remain behind for the lowering of the coffin.' Lisbon's eyes fluttered open and the scene once again came into view. The large coffin ahead of her was the first thing she focused on; for the third time, she swallowed down the tears, agitated by their closeness. Next to her, Jane watched the small clusters of people drifting toward the minister, and then looked down at his hands.

'I'd better…' he began, but she cut him off without thinking.

'Stay.' She met his sudden gaze with a question in her eyes, baffled by the strange panic that flared in her with his words. After a moment, he nodded.

'Okay.'

Ahead of them, Jim stood hugging his wife Leah from behind, his hands resting lightly on her pregnant stomach. His nose was pressed firmly into the crook of her neck and Lisbon was too familiar with the soft shake of his shoulders to assume it was a romantic moment. She very nearly turned away, but then he glanced up and saw her, his eyes glistening in the light. Jim smiled sadly at her, before murmuring something into Leah's ear and bringing a kiss to her cheek. As he headed toward them, he wiped the tears from his eyes.

'It's a nice day, at least,' he commented, and Lisbon smiled.

'Jim, this is Jane,' she told him, gesturing, and he raised his eyebrows.

'Jane?' She corrected herself. 'Patrick.'

'I'm sorry about your brother,' Jane said as they shook hands, and Jim's reply was darker than Lisbon knew he'd expected it to be.

'Which one?'

A silence descended, grief again tugging at Lisbon but she refused to turn. It had been months since she'd seen Jim; he looked exactly the same, dark hair and her eyes, she'd always been told, but it didn't change a thing. It had taken a death to bring them together again, and her stomach lurched with the knowledge. She opened her mouth, not quite sure what she was going to say, but then a tiny hand clasped onto hers and she looked down.

'Hello Auntie Tess.'

'Hi, Teddy,' she smiled, and he returned it but his wide, sad eyes betrayed him. Lisbon turned to Jim just in time to watch him fit his mask back into place. She knew the signs of mustering strength, having seen Jane do it many times, and supposed that it came with parenthood. Suddenly, she was glad she didn't have any children, because right now she barely had strength for herself.

'Hey Ted,' Jim said softly, gathering his four-year-old in his arms. Teddy's arms snaked around his neck and they stayed like that for a long moment, mumbling inaudible things, a secret conversation. It was so easy to see when a child needed comfort. They were weaving no illusions, had nothing to hide, and as Lisbon watched them she was reminded powerfully of her childhood, calming Jim down after a nightmare. She was twelve, he was six, and he'd fit perfectly into the side of her. Teddy was a replica of Jim, twenty-two years backwards, and he'd grown into a wonderful father.

'Excuse me.' Jane pulled Lisbon out of her observation, and when she looked over he'd already left. He'd been oddly quiet, she realised, but she didn't think any more of it as they began to drift over toward the minister.

'I think he likes you, Tess,' Jim told her, Teddy still clinging to him. Lisbon turned to give him scepticism and he laughed.

'I'm serious.'

'You wouldn't say that if you knew him,' she claimed, a blood red smile flashing before her.

'I don't need to know him.' Jim grinned. 'I like him. You have my permission.'

'Since when do I need your permission?'

'Well, since I'm now the man of the…' he trailed off, and suddenly all the weight that had lifted fell back down on their shoulders, twice as heavy as before. Lisbon stared at Jim, half-obscured under Teddy, and bleakly contemplated the horrors of being changed against one's will. The baby of the family, now forced to lead because of a killer and a victim. She could see the realisation lingering on him now. And in that moment, Lisbon fiercely hated both Pete and Tommy; Pete for taking Tommy away, Tommy for taking Pete away. It was wrong, she knew, but it overwhelmed her and she supposed that with everything that had happened in the past five days, wrong no longer seemed wrong.

As they reached the minister, Jane slotted into his place beside her and the lowering of the coffin began. With every inch it sank below ground level, Lisbon desperately wanted more and more to throw herself down into the grave, wrench the coffin open and shake Tommy back to life. Her losses hit her with the strength of a wall; her mother, her father, Tommy, Pete. Six people to two, and Jim was the only link that remained to her early childhood. It wasn't enough. How could it be? She could feel the tears pressing again and found herself incapable of keeping them down.

But then a warm hand slipped into hers, and she saw Jane's understanding through misty eyes.

In the silence, her fingers closed around his.

She asked Jane to drive her back to work, not because she wanted to be strong but because she was weak; the memories were waiting for her at home, poisonous and alive. He didn't argue for her wellbeing as he usually did, and it made her wonder if maybe the events of the week had affected him as well. He had been, after all, there beside her for the majority of the time, a sidekick in her near self-destruction. She couldn't imagine that it had been a pretty sight.

The walls of her office were a comfort, a shield between her and the rest of the building. Even now, three days after Jane had dragged her, emotionally wrecked, to his couch, agents she didn't know gave her strange looks when she passed. Lisbon sank into her chair and quickly gave up the paperwork. Cho had been lead on Tommy's case, so those papers had thankfully eluded her but there were other cases. There were always other cases; other victims, other families, other murderers. More suspects, more motives and alibis and bloody affairs, all ending up on her desk as a documentation of evil. Would it ever stop?

Lisbon put her face in her hands and listened to the ticking of the clock above her head. She wanted Tommy to be alive, Pete to be innocent. She wanted her mother but at the same time she wanted her strength back, sick of feeling so fragile. She wanted to cry and to scream, simultaneously, and she wanted coffee.

Almost immediately after the thought entered her head, there was a soft clink on the desk in front of her and she smiled in gratitude.

'Are you sure you're not psychic?' she asked.

'It's not mind-reading,' he said. 'You always want coffee.' Lisbon wrapped her fingers around the warm china and closed her eyes as the searing warmth cascaded down her throat. It had become a habit, this, but she didn't really mind because he made the drink better than she did.

'Thank you, Jane.'

'Any time,' he told her.

'I'm not talking about the coffee.' He met her gaze and nodded slowly, a light smile floating across his face. And she meant it. It only now occurred to Lisbon how much closer they had become over the past few days. From two separate, stubborn colleagues to…what, exactly? Friends? The answer sounded artificial, even in her head, and she wondered if there was even a name for it, this dysfunctional function that they both seemed to thrive on. She rather liked the idea of it being undefinable. Then neither of them could analyse it, just watch it go past.

Jane cleared his throat then, and she glanced up to see him walking the fine line between calm and nervous. Her expression blended into anticipation of its own accord.

'Just so you know,' he said slowly, the blue of his gaze piercing her, 'when we catch Red John…you can have him.'

In the sudden silence, Lisbon could feel her eyes widen.

'I'm sorry…what?'

'I don't want revenge anymore.' She continued to stare, incapable of moving, and he met her shock with a shyness that looked wrong on him.

'Any reason for this change of heart?' she asked bleakly.

'Well, yes, actually.' Jane dropped his gaze to the floor. 'Vengeance,' he said, 'is…terrifying. I can't…I don't want…' There was a stilted pause as he struggled for the words. Lisbon knew the moment he'd found them; the moment he looked at her with all the emotions in the world stitched into his expression. 'I don't want people to be scared of me.'

She locked onto his fierce gaze, and the shapes of her office faded away. Lisbon found herself dumbfounded by his statement, by his rare and beautiful use of the truth. Something startling occurred to her, and she forced herself to remember the utterly foreign expression on his face as he'd pinned her against the interrogation room wall. Had it been fear? Had they, unknowingly, switched roles in this sadistic game; had she become Jane? If she'd known that all it would take was a look in the mirror, she would have done it years ago.

But contemplation suddenly lost all its meaning as sheer relief coursed through her, strong and breathtaking. The concept of Jane without his dark agenda had always seemed so far away, never within reach, always just in her head. Lisbon had forced herself a long time ago to accept that she would only ever see it from a distance. But the fact that it was here, now, sunk in with all the beauty she'd ever seen and her own emotional changes paled in comparison to this.

Lisbon stood slowly, her legs shaking, and crossed the room quickly to throw her arms around Jane's neck. He froze in surprise, but after a moment he returned the embrace and they stood like that for a long time. She blamed the events of the past week for her emotional reaction, but knew subconsciously that their boundaries, once so carefully constructed, had been blown apart anyway. After all, he'd seen her sleep, he'd seen her cry. He'd seen her just out of bed, for God's sake. Lisbon pulled back momentarily and then, without thought or warning, she leant in and pressed her lips to his.

It took her exactly one second to realise what she was doing, and exactly one more second to break the kiss and take a horrified step back.

'Oh, God, I'm sorry…' Lisbon could feel her cheeks burning, her conscience screaming, and rushed to the door with the intention of fleeing. She didn't know where she was going but she couldn't stay here anymore. Mortification thumped painfully in her stomach. Why the hell had she done that?

'What's Teddy short for?' he asked to her back, and the absurd timing of his question was what made her hesitate. Taking a long, deep breath, she tried to steady herself at least a little but didn't trust herself to turn around.

'Theodore,' she stammered. 'What's that got to do with…'

'I just didn't want you to leave.' Jane paused, and in the silence she could sense the return of his nerves. 'Can I ask you a question?'

'I suppose so.' She figured she couldn't embarrass herself any more than she already had.

'You've been a cop for, what, ten years?'

'Twelve,' she corrected. 'Was that the question?'

'No,' he replied, and his next words sounded rehearsed. 'That's twelve years of pain. You go to work every day, load your gun and know that those bullets could end up in someone's heart.' Behind her, she heard soft footsteps. 'Two of your brothers are gone,' he said, 'but you're not. You're still intact.' Lisbon turned around then, to find that he was much closer than expected, only a couple of feet away. She tried to look away from him but found that she couldn't.

'How do you do it?' he asked. 'How do you wake up in the morning and see light? Because all I can see is darkness.'

Moisture hinted in his eyes as he looked at her, clear as the meaning of his words. She'd been able to translate them instantly, but it wasn't an impossible task. Jane's life had been dripping with blood and sadness, and now he wanted, amidst the darkness, light. Happiness, which for him had always been for other people, was now a dimness in the corner, and watching it grow would be a beautiful thing.

'I don't know,' she eventually answered him. Jane gave her a tender smile and stepped closer still. She shivered at the proximity, and a voice in her head commanded her to turn away but there was something else keeping it down, smothering the sense.

'Doesn't matter,' he mumbled, and she could feel his breath on her face. 'Knowledge is for cowards anyway.'

'Why's that?' she asked softly. Jane gently cupped her face in his hands and leant in until their foreheads were touching. As Lisbon closed her eyes, she realised suddenly that the reason she hadn't turned away wasn't because she couldn't, but because she didn't want to.

'Because if I knew everything,' he breathed, 'then doing this would not be half as terrifying.'

And with those words, he kissed her and this time they did it properly. She snaked her arms around his neck and tangled one hand in his soft curls as his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. The warmth of him enveloped her, soothed her, blurred the corners of her conscious and for a moment she was dizzy. Lisbon couldn't remember whether her office door was open or not, but in the same instant she realised that she couldn't care less. Let them all stare, let them all announce her even more emotionally screwed. She was kissing Jane, after all. And as their kiss deepened, she wondered bleakly what she'd ever found appealing about sanity anyway.

What had the minister said? We do not mourn a death, but celebrate a life. It was Tommy's death, but Jane's life that was saved as a result. A tragedy for a miracle. Was it fair? She didn't know. But she did know the answer to his question, and one day she would tell him the truth. One day, she would tell him that she'd only ever been able to see light because it stood out against the glory of his darkness. And that he would have been able to see it too, contrasting against her own black ugliness this whole week, if only he'd known it was there to find.

But now was not the time.

Thanks for reading, please review!

Oh, and I'm thinking of doing a series of Jisbon oneshots based on quotes, not quotes from the Mentalist but from anywhere. If anyone's got any good quotes, I'd love to hear them.

Jess :)