Oh, yes, the damn disclaimer: seriosuly, do we really have to do it? Because, Jeez, if I'd own them, I'd not be here writing it, I'd be the writeer of a TV Shows and, well, we'd have the LIsbon romance for real...meanwhile, I just "write, draw, create, dream, hope and believe in Bruno, waiting for him to be blessed bu the light of reason..." (No, this discalimer isn't mine, it belongs to one fo the girls who wite Mentalist fiction on the italian site efpfiction, but don't tell me many of you don't share this vision...).

Thanks to everyone who left a review or put me on fav and7or alerts. Even if I'd like to receive more reviews, good or bad ones it doesn't matter, you still make my day!

By the way: again, a bit different, with less scenes about a certain thing happening in the original Christmas Carol, and one that wasn't in the novel - and, I'm telling you (especially the ones that pm or reviewed me about the visit of the spirit of Christmas past) this is, probably, the saddest one, especially toward the end. But, in the epilogue, things will get better (and will definitely be differetn from the novel, since it wasn't a love story that Dickens wrote)

Anyway, good reading. and, If you never read the original Christmas carol, do it, you'll not regret it!

ACT FIVE OR THE LAST SPIRIT

Saying so, with a smile, the Giant vanishes, and Jane looks around himself for the last ghost, his room vibrating. Lifting his eyes to the ceiling, he sees it, a solemn Phantom, draped and hooded, coming, like a mist towards him….

The Phantom slowly, gravely, silently approach, flying towards Jane like moving, like his own father has said, on the wings of wind. Slowly he comes, and when they are face to face, they only thing Jane can ménage to do is falling on his knees, his breath dying in his throat, scared as never before, the air filled with gloom and mystery and something else…like the sensation of an impending Doom.

The Ghost is shrouded in a deep black garment, which conceals everything if not the outstretched right hand; his "mantle" is so dark it's hard to detach the supernatural being from the dark fog surrounding it- it's even impossible to say if the being is male of female in nature, if Ghosts have genders, that it is.

Jane is pretty sure that it is tall and stately when it comes beside him, and its mysterious presence seems to fill him with a solemn dread. He knows no more, for the Spirit neither speak nor move, making the situation the more terrible, hard to handle, scary for Jane.

Even the day he met Red John, he hasn't been that scared.

"I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas future." He says looking at the pavement, not daring to face the Ghost. There should be resolution in his voice, but Patrick Jane can't find any.

The Spirit doesn't answer him, only, it points with its outstretched hand a point behind Jane's shoulders, like indicating what it wishes to show him.

"You are about to show me shadows of the things that have not happened, but will happen in due time" Jane keeps saying, still refusing to meet the Spirit's gaze, his eyes focused on the point indicated by said entity, like something was already there, but all he can see, for now, is an empty wall. "I'm not wrong, am I?"

The upper portion of the garment contracts for an instant in its folds, making it look like that the Spirit is inclining its head, and this is the only answer Jane receives from the creature.

This night may have prepared him, may have make him used to this kind of apparitions, but, still, Jane is scared nevertheless by this one: he fears the silent shape so much that his legs tremble beneath him, and he finds out that he can hardly stand when he prepares to follow it. The Spirit pauses a moment, as observing his condition, and giving him time to recover, when it walks past Jane, in direction of the point he was looking at before, still embraced by fog.

But it seems to make only things worse for Jane. It thrills him with a vague uncertain horror, to know that behind the dusky shroud there are ghostly eyes intently fixed upon him, while the only thing he can see is the hand, making him wonder, from a brief instant, if he is seeing this only because he is a mere mortal, or if other sleepless, dead souls see the same as him right now.

"Ghost of the Future." he exclaims with trembling voice, still not daring to meet the point where the ghost' eyes should be "I fear you more than any spirit I have seen this night, more than any mortal soul I have met in my life. But I know your purpose, I know you all are supposed to teach me a lesson, to do me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from what I was, I am prepared to bear you company, and do it with a thankful heart." He pauses, finally turning his head to look at the apparition "Ghost, why don't you talk with me? Don't you have a lesson to teach me like your brothers did?"

It gives him no reply, if not the hand pointing straight before them.

"Let's go" Jane says, finally with force "let's go. Time's precious for me now"

The Phantom moves away as it has come towards him, and Jane follows in the shadow of its dress, flying together, on the wings of the wind…

They scarcely seem to enter the city, and before Jane could register it, he is in a place well known, one of the few places he considers home…the CBI headquarter. It's not in the bullpen of the SCU, though, but they are travelling along the whole building, amongst the agents who hurry up and down, and check reports, and converse in groups, and look at their watches, checking the hour, waiting to go back home, and so forth, as Jane has seen them doing often.

The Spirit stops beside one little knot of men; observing that the hand was pointed to them, Jane advances to listen to their talk.

"No" says a guy he knows is for cyber-crimes, a fat man with a monstrous chin "I don't know much about it, either. I only know he's dead."

"When did he die?" inquires another.

"Last night, I think. Looks like SCU is under lockdown, no one enters or leave. Only the boss went to talk with them. Nothing official has been said."

"I wonder if the rumors are true… what you think was going though his mind?" asks a third, checking his surrounding to make sure no one is around but them and starting to smoke a cigarette "Honestly, sometimes it seemed that the guy thought he was never going to die…"

"God only knows what used to go through his mind the whole time…" says the first, with a yawn. "I'll never understand why they allowed him to stay and keep up with his crap. Do you think it was true what they said, about him, and Lisbon, you know…"

"I'd not be surprised if it was true. The bastard enjoyed too much manipulating people. I'd not be surprised if he'd seduced her to have his way into case as well…" says the second.

"And a certain case in particular. It wasn't a secret how he felt for the Red John case. Not that I blame him, though. I'd be crazy as well if something like that had happened to me, but, still, how he acted, what he did to Lisbon and the team… they didn't deserve it, I say." The first one says again.

"Well, he was the one who kept the secret, so, I say they are better off this way. Anyway, what about Lisbon? I've heard she is still closed in her office with the boss…" asks another one.

"It seems she took it pretty bad" says the man with the large chin, yawning again. "she is talking just with the boss, that's all I know, and I'm not even sure it's true, even if…according to Eve in financial, the guy had spent the last months closed in that old attic of ours. It seems Lisbon hasn't left the place for hours after they told her, and Eve said everyone could hear her crying. Apparently, this seems to confirm the rumors of them being in an affair."

This pleasantry is received with a general laugh that makes Jane shivers in pain. They are talking about death and sufferance, and they are laughing like it's nothing.

"It's likely to be a very small funeral" says the same one "I swear I don't know who could go to pay their last goodbye. Hell, I doubt even his so-called team would like to go. Well, I suppose we make up a party and volunteer. Maybe things will be interesting, after all."

"I don't mind going, if I have to be honest. I'd like to see if any of the people he pissed off in the last few years will make an appearance to split on his grieve!" Another laugh follows the statement of the new came, making Jane shiver yet again.

'Well, I am the most disinterested among you, after all" says the first speaker "But I'll offer to go, if anybody else will. Besides, he was at least funny, and made interesting rumors. I was scared of him, though, but at least he always said "hi" when we met in the corridor"

Speakers and listeners stroll away, mixing with other groups, with other people, people he knows, people he meets every day. He looks towards the Spirit for an explanation, even if, deep down, the meaning of what the group said is already clear to him.

But, still, the Phantom moves away, bringing them into the bullpen of "his" unit, the finger pointed to two people, Van Pelt and Rigsby, embraced in the small kitchenette, the red head in tears in the embrace of her former lover. Jane listens again, thinking that the explanation might lay here, knowing that if his "fear" is true, then, it will be the topic of conversation between the duos.

"Grace, you need to talk to me, please." Jane isn't sure if Rigsby means she should talk for her own good, of for his own, because he seems to need to be grounded as well.

"How do you think I feel?" she says, between tears, her face hidden in his shirt.

"Grace, I know it's not going to help… but maybe… maybe we should consider that… this is something we have always considered." He says tentatively, not believing it himself.

"It doesn't make it better!" she shouts leaving him embrace "I thought we had changed his mind! I thought he cared about us! I thought… I thought he at least cared about Lisbon, but it was all a lie, isn't it? He never gave a damn about us; we were only pawns in his chess game with Red John! He played us and he fooled us!"

"Grace, we knew how he felt for these cases. We knew how he felt about Red John." He says taking her back into his embrace "maybe it's better off this way. Lisbon will be bad for a while, but it would be worse if she had to arrest him…. Besides, maybe now he is happy, maybe is back where he belonged, with his beloved ones."

"He is a murder, Wayne. And what he did to himself isn't any different than suicide! He knew that he was going to get killed as well!" she collapses again in tears, as Wayne keeps holding her like for dear life, as she does as well, their tears mixing together as he sweetly kisses her forehead to calm her down.

From now on, Grace, the strong believer, will probably hate Christmas for the rest of her life, he realizes unpleasantly, and it will be because of him and what he did. "At least, my death did some good. At least, now they are back together…"

Even if part of him is glad he finally managed to get to Red John and kill him, he resolves to treasure up every word he heard and is hearing, and everything he saw and sees, and he still wonders, what it is the clue he is missing, what will give him the solution of these riddle. Is the lesson he is supposed to learn that he isn't supposed to die? Of course not, he knows that dying is the ultimate fate of every human and mortal soul…

Quiet and dark, beside him stands the Phantom, with its outstretched hand, and when he rouses himself from his thoughtful quest, he fancies from the turn of the hand, and its situation in reference to himself, that the Unseen Eyes are looking at him keenly. It makes him shudder, and feel very cold…

They move away from the private scene, and moves into the next room, where Cho is sitting at his desk, running his fingers through his hair, looking with obvious rage at what used to be Jane's couch. He leaves his seat, approach the piece of furniture and, violently, hits him with fits and kicks, with guttural grunts of rage, and tears in his eyes as well. "Damn you, Jane, for entering into our lives! Damn you because you made us all care for you! Damn you because we believed you!"

"The couch didn't do anything, Cho" both Jane and Cho turns to look at the person who just spoke, an extremely sad, but still in control, Teresa Lisbon. It seems she hasn't slept in ages, her eyes are red and puffy for the tears, and she is holding, or, more precisely, embracing, one if his jacket like for dear life… a jacket covered in blood, just like her blouse, and the mentalist wonders if it's because she hold the suit or because she hold him…

The only thing he knows it's that the sight before him breaks his heart, even if he sees Lisbon is hiding all the emotions she probably feels right now, her love towards him, and the delusion, mostly.

"Boss…" he says approaching her, but Lisbon stops him, with an outstretched hand, freezing him where he stands.

"Cho, no, really, there's no need to hug me or be sorry. I've always knew something like that was going to happen, that in the end, he was going to be death or in prison. Besides, we're all better off this way. Jane finally reached his objective, and he is better off death… he has stopped living a long time ago, and was merely going through hell. Maybe he is finally happy, wherever he is, I'll no longer have to deal with him and we'll never receive complaints ever again. We'll have few issues with she solved cases rating for a while, but we'll eventually come back to be what we already were before he come here, we were the best CBI unit before him and we'll be it again." Without adding further words, without crying furthermore, she moves back to the safety of her office, and closes the door and the blinds as she enters, wishing only to be left alone with her sufferance. She knows they'll eventually come back to their old routine, to being the best CBI team, but what she knows is that they'll never get better, they'll never be able to just walk past this, and she'll never be able to.

And, even if he knows it, Jane tries to think it's not what he sees in her eyes, that, like everybody else, she'll eventually move on, she'll forget about him and whatever she felt for him.

"She'll move on. She'll forget about me. It was… it's not even a fling. She just has a crush on me…" he says, looking at the heartbroken Lisbon, silently crying in her chair for the man she loved but never loved her back, holding his jacket like it could change a single thing, like it means the world to her.

"She'll move on, she is that strong, she has overcome so much in her life, and she'll just do the same with this as well. Besides, you heard her" he says to the spirit, trying to convince himself and not his "companion" with a voice that's not even close to steady and firm "she knew what was coming. I told her what my intentions were, more than once. It was her fault if she deluded herself believing she could change my mind!"

Again, the Spirit seems to nod, but Jane can't say for sure. All he knows is that the Spirit is now pointing to a distant point behind Lisbon's back with his skeleton-like hand, and before he could realize what's going on, they find themselves in a cemetery, in a sunny day, clearly in late autumn or even winter. Christmas again, he wonders under his breath as he looks around searching for familiar faces. He doesn't think it could be his own funeral, he realizes. There's too many people-even if all the guys at CBI told they were going to go just to see who was going to be there, besides, it's not where he asked to be buried (close to Charlotte and Angela) and, mostly, the person he cared about, the only person he wanted at his funeral isn't there.

Lisbon isn't there.

But her family, though, it is, and he doesn't understand it. There are her brothers, her sisters in law, her nieces and nephews. There's Minelli and there's Hightower, there are many people from the CBI, there's the team, with Grace- a clear pregnant belly hidden under her coat- and Wayne holding her, and there's Cho, at Elise's arms. It's clear she is trying to make it better for him, and it's clear that he no longer can act like the stoic man he has always pretended to be, and this is enough to break Jane's heart.

Lisbon's the only one who isn't there.

The Spirit stands among the graves, pointing at one, the one around which they are all gathered, and Jane, feeling like is dying a little bit more every instant he walks closer and closer to it, advances trembling, and Jane, finally, see the Spirit for what it is, even if the Shape of the creature is still the same, he sees it differently, with brand new eyes.

Death, the dark reaper, is standing in front of a tombstone.

"No…" he whispers collapsing on his knees, in tears, in front of the simple, and elegant, grave, where only few words were written, accompanying the picture of a young, happy and smiling person…

Death, the dark reaper, is standing in front of Teresa Lisbon's grave.

Jane looks at the words, skimming over the silver metal, only the back of his mind paying attention to what is happening around him, the Ghost, the reaper, forgotten for now.

Teresa Catherine Lisbon 1973-2012

"I hope our dear Mr. Jane will be happy, now that he has killed Teresa as well…" Sally says with a great rage, closed eyes while holding one of her children in her arms, like a life preserver.

"Sally, drop it, please, that's nor the place or the time to start this!" her husband reprimands her, with rage in his voice, a calm rage though, that reminds Jane of his own.

"But it's true and you know it! It took her a year, but at the end, she gave up on living. Andy, she… wasn't even surviving! Not eating, not sleeping, and drinking more or less a glass of water… She was barely existing, and all because of HIM! He may have as well put a dagger through her heart, or shot her in the back!"

"Damn it, Sally, that's enough! She loved him, what was she supposed to react to his death? What would you do if I died?"

"It's different, Andy! You love me! You don't keep things from me! He never cared about anything but himself, he wasn't worth the pain she went through this last year, and don't you dare selling me all your crap about how now she has reached a higher state of existence, how she is in a better place, and how happy she is now that she has been reunited with her long lost love, because I don't believe it, and neither do you! Teresa was our friend, she was your sister, and she is dead because of him, and I don't care what people say, I'll never forgive that… man… for what he did to her! I don't care if he had suffered in his life or not, I don't care how long he has been dead, I'll never forgive him, and I'll never accept you talking about HER death as it were something natural!"

Saying so, Sally, in tears, runs away, followed by her daughter and, soon, by her husband as well, while everybody stays.

"She is right, and we all know it. I'll never understand how you and Cho can forgive him… pity him… try to understand him!" Grace hisses, furious, between her teeth, and somehow, this is what hits him the most. Grace, little, sweet Grace, the one he thought was going to stick by his side or at least pity him, hates him.

She hates him and, he realizes still crying, she probably has all the reasons to.

"Ghost…" he pleas at closed eyes, still on his knees on front of the grave of the woman he has always desired since the first moment they eyes met "Are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of things that May be, only?"

Still the Ghost points downward to the grave by which it stands, without answering to his question, his desperate question, the one who could easily plague what's left to live of his life.

"I need to know, Ghost, if I can still change HER destiny. I don't care about me, but she is too precious to waste her life because of me!" he says, standing, facing the reaper. "Maybe I'm still in time to change my destiny! Maybe I can still take another road! Tell me this is the case; please, tell me this is just one of the possible outcomes of our lives! Say this is what you showed me!"

The Spirit is immovable as ever, the finger pointing from the grave to him, and back again.

"No, Spirit, Oh no, no…" he begs, ending again on the soil, again desperate, again in tears. It's the end of the world; maybe only of the world as he knows it, but it's an end nevertheless, and end Jane never wished to see…

The finger still is there.

"Spirit" he cries, tight clutching at its robe "hear me. I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been, but tell me, why showing me this, why torturing me with the image of her death, if I am past all hope?"

For the first time the hand seems to shake.

"Spirit" he pursues, still on the ground, still desperate, still in tears, his eyes sometimes on the creature, sometimes on the funeral of his lost love "Your nature intercedes for me, and pities me. Assure me that I yet may change these shadows you have shown me, by an altered life, if not for my own good, for her…"

The kind hand trembles yet again, shaken more forcibly this time.

"I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future, I will remember the good things like what whet they were, good things, and I will not contaminate my happy memories with the shadows of the evil of someone else's hand. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Tell me I still have time to erase what's written on this stone; tell me there's still hope for me and for her!"

In his agony, Jane takes the spectral, skeleton hand in his own; it tries to free itself from the mortal's hold, but he is strong in his entreaty, as strong as never before, his eyes dark with passion and resolution, and he detains it as long as possible, until, finally, the Spirit, stronger yet, repulses him.

Holding up his hands in a last prayer to have his fate and the one of beloved reversed, he sees an alteration in the Phantom's hood and dress. Jane is like captured by it, and when he is released, he finds himself in his bed yet again, covered in sweat, his breathing erratic, his pupils dilated, but him mind and hear as clear as never before.