Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my own creations.

Author's Note: After feedback from my reviewers, I have added to the ending in order give the fic a more 'finished' look.

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Her feet felt so heavy as she walked up the stairs to her apartment. Left foot up. Come on right foot, make your move. Okay, left foot, it's you again.

She was so emotionally drained that she considered leaning against the wall when she reached her floor, but she pushed ahead safe in the knowledge that her apartment was so very very close.

She fumbled with her keys, but thankfully the key slid into the lock without much of a hassle and she could step into her darkened apartment.

Her hand reached for the light switch by default and then stopped. Perhaps the darkness would be better at this moment in time.

Dropping her bag and keys, her eyes adjusted to the gloom and she took in the familiar pieces of furniture and knick knacks around. It was hard to believe that her place could look the same when so much had happened these past few days.

With a whole realm of possibilities facing her, she sagged to her couch as she just sat there. She was done for. Every emotion that she could ever produce had officially been produced and set through the wringer, and now she felt empty.

She doesn't know how long she sat there, but when the knock sounded at the door she startled. She could have been asleep, thinking or just dead to the world. She wasn't quite sure. Did she hear something?

Knock knock.

Her shoulders protested as she pushed on her knees and managed to get herself upright. Her feet were walking her body to her door without her orders. Her hand automatically reached for the doorknob, but then she stopped.

Resting her head against the cool wood, her hand gripped the knob, but did not turn. When the knock sounded once again, the sound reverberated painfully in her head, but she didn't move. Pain was good. Pain was feeling.

'Go away Jane,' she whispered. 'I don't want to talk.'

'Well I do,' was the response. 'Open up Lisbon.'

Now you want to talk do you? Feeling was now back with a vengeance. She could feel the anger roaring through her veins. There was nothing stopping her as she threw the door open and looked into the face of Patrick Jane.

'Oh now you want to talk do you?'

'Um hi Lisbon,' said Jane nervously. 'I came to check that you were okay.'

She ignored him as she vented. He was finally here after two days of cat and mouse. She was not going to let this opportunity pass her by.

'You're here now, but where were you last night? Hmm?' she pushed. 'And the night before? And let's not forget the night before that shall we? Or was that nothing?' She had the satisfaction of seeing him flinch. 'Can I come in?'

She thought about it for a moment. As much as having him in her apartment played havoc on her emotions and mental capacity, it really wasn't fair on her neighbours that they should have their sleep interrupted by World War III.

She stepped out of the doorway, her anger not diminished one iota as she jerked her arm and gestured him in.

She resisted the urge to slam the door shut, instead pushing it to the doorframe and throwing the lock. When she turned, she found Jane standing in the middle of the room. He was standing there holding his jacket in his hands as he looked at her.

She gets a sense of déjà vu as she faces him from across the room. Three nights ago, they had both been in the exact same position and she knew that the outcome tonight was going to be very different. It had to be.

'I don't care what your reasons for being here are,' she gritted through her teeth. 'But you aren't stepping outside that door until you talk.'

'Talk?' responded Jane warily.

'Yes talk,' she confirmed. 'And I do not want to hear one word about Hannah Lombard or that catastrophe. You are going to talk.'

'Teresa...' he begged but she was having none of it.

'Don't you dare Teresa me,' she threatened as she raised her finger. 'I've been there for you from the start. How often have I covered your butt? How often have I stood right by you – supported you all the way? How often have I defended you? Helped you? Let you go off and do your merry tricks.' She took the slightest breath before she drilled her point home. 'What you did then was stupid.'

Jane looked chagrined. His shields were down. She couldn't talk to the Jane that put up the confident and arrogant act. She needed the Jane that was hurting inside. The Patrick Jane that was willing to kill in his desire for revenge.

'My God Patrick,' she whispered in pain, her use of his first name never registering. 'Do you know what would have happened if you'd shot him? Do you? I couldn't have done anything to save you – no matter how much I wanted to.'

'He would have deserved it,' said Jane in a hard tone.

'For what?' she cried throwing her hands up into the air. 'The guy apologised to you. He explained himself.'

'I will never forgive him.'

'I'm sorry that you had to find out that your friend assisted Red John in killing your wife and daughter, but you can't blame the guy for giving up your security codes,' she yelled.

'If you hadn't been in the way...' shouted Jane in retaliation.

'What would you have done Jane?' she said, her tone now deadly serious. 'What would you have done if I hadn't been there?'

He offered no answer.

'You wouldn't have done it,' she said softly in a determined tone. 'You wouldn't have killed him. You're many things, but you're not a cold-blooded killer.'

'How can you know that?' asked Jane harshly, his eyes boring into hers. The intensity was great, but she pushed on. 'I know you,' she said simply – helplessly.

She took this moment to step toward him. She debated touching him, but her hand had a mind of its own as it reached out and lay on the tightly wound muscles of one tightly crossed arm. 'The cold facts are that if your friend hadn't revealed the codes under duress, Red John would have gone elsewhere. Nothing your friend did or could have done would have stopped Red John from killing your wife and daughter.'

She took a deep breath. 'The world has moved on. And you need to move with it.'

The response was short and sharp. 'No I don't.' But the desperation in his eyes and the hand that came across to cover hers and grip it tightly said otherwise.

She continued gently. 'You have been already. Can't you see it?' she begged. 'When you saved me, you made a choice. Jane – you chose life. You want to live – you want to live so badly.'

'I can't let go of it.' His voice was raw. His grip on her hand tightened, but she ignored the pain.

She raised her other hand slowly to his face as she cupped his cheek. 'I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking you to... to...'

'To what?' he begged.

'You mean too much to me,' she said tentatively. 'To all of us,' she added hastily. 'All I'm asking is for you to let us help you. We've got some good information – and we now have more. We can do this right Patrick. We can win.'

'I'm afraid,' he whispered. Her heart clenched as she took in his broken features. She wanted her Jane back.

'We all are,' she said. 'I'm afraid too.'

The words hung between them. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, one hand still tightly enclosed within his and the other unconsciously stroking his cheek as their minds considered the enormity of the situation before them.

He spoke first. 'Forgive me,' he whispered.

Never had two words meant so much. They had been the last words of Robert Calabrese before he ran. They had been the last words of Hannah Lombard before she died. And now as she hugged Jane with a ferocity that was equally fiercely returned, the words seemed fitting. In the face of so much death and despair, the future looked just a little brighter.

She didn't realise that she was crying until Jane pulled her back from him and looked down at her. 'What are you crying for woman?' said Jane through his own tears.

'You're hurting.' Having said all that she had, reality was now creeping back and she began to feel uncomfortable being in such close quarters with Jane and a little ashamed at what she had said.

'You always could see straight through me couldn't you?' mused Jane quietly and she could see him starting to come back to life.

'Not much to see though,' she scoffed. His full bellied laugh in response took her by surprise and a smile spread across her face of its own volition as she moved to step out from his embrace.

He wasn't willing to let her go though. His hands gripped her shoulders as he became serious once again and looked her in the eyes. 'Life is too precious. Don't you ever change.'

She wasn't quite sure about how to respond to that.

The wee hours of the morning found them in her bed holding each other close. They both knew that Jane would not be there when she awoke that morning, and both knew that neither would ever mention this again, but for tonight, the nearness of the other was enough.

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In southern Nevada in the Mojave desert, Robert Calabrese stood alone as he raised his mobile phone to his ear and looked up into the night sky, waiting for the call to go through.

He was prompt.

'Everything has been done as you wish Master,' Robert said quickly, muscles tensing as he waited for a response.

There was heavy breathing on the other end, but no response as Calabrese shifted nervously on his feet and looked warily at the various shrubs and bushes around him.

The call was hung up.

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Finito

Author's Note: I'm considering doing a follow up story that sees Jane and Lisbon facing 'I love you' for the first time as we get closer and closer to finding Red John. Look out for 'Feeling' - coming to the fanfiction archive near you!