Author's Note: And here we are at the end. Thank you so much for reading, following, favoriting, and/or reviewing! This story was a real surprise since I thought the first chapter was practically crackfic, but it just goes to show that sometimes the writer is wrong! So a special thanks to everybody who encouraged me to continue. It's been a blast. I hope you find this a fitting wrap up. And hang in there, everybody, especially my fellow Mentalistas on Twitter!

Chapter 6: A Night on the Town

Six weeks later, I'm lying on the couch at Lisbon's place, passing a very pleasant evening. I've made something of a hobby of lying on couches over the past decade or so, but this is a new addition to my repertoire. I must say, it's my favorite. No blanket or throw can compare to having Lisbon draped over me, her ear over my heart and one little hand tucked under my ribcage. Her other hand has a firm grasp on the remote as she switches back and forth between two sports channels, both of which appear to be disappointing her, judging by the grunts and groans she's making.

I'm pretending to read while taking the opportunity to bask in my new life. My free hand sifts through Lisbon's silky hair, releasing a lovely herbal scent and reminding me of how I grabbed fistfuls of it the other night when she was mercilessly sucking me dry. I always suspected under that prim exterior was an adventuress. If I could convince her to throw caution to the winds and run away with me, what a life we could have.

But right now we are lazy domesticated creatures, comforted by each other's touch after a tough case. Lisbon likes a cuddle now and then, but she's been clingy since that trafficking case started with our finding a dying girl while out for a casual food truck dinner. I appreciate her impulse to comfort me, but I think part of it is also her need to remind us both that there's still something good and pure in the world even when it seems like we're drowning in evil.

I close my eyes and try to dismiss the awful images that claw their way to my conscious mind. They'll have their chance to come out and play once I'm asleep, safely tucked in Lisbon's strong arms. She'll wake me with a kiss and words of comfort and reassurance, and it will be all right because she makes it so.

When I open my eyes again, I see Lisbon looking at me in concern, her little chin digging into my breastbone. Smiling, I say, "What is it, love?"

She smiles at the endearment, her favorite of all the things I call her, though she has a definite weakness for how I say her given name. For me, calling her my love is not just a way to remind her I love her, but to remind us both that she is the embodiment of that emotion for me. I had forgotten how to feel it until she showed me.

"We always do what I want to do," she says, frowning a little.

"It's only fair. We always do what I want to do at work," I point out.

She rolls her eyes at me. "I still think you've hypnotized Abbott," she says.

"Yes. I dangled his sparkly future in front of him and dazzled him. He's mesmerized by the prospect of unlimited success." To be fair, I think for him it's as much about justice as it is ambition, but either way, he plans to get as much out of me as he can for as long as he can. Which is why he's tickled pink that Lisbon and I are making each other deliriously happy. Happiness increases health, after all. Plus I have acquired a five foot two sense of self-preservation who doesn't hesitate to kick my ass for ignoring her warnings. This is far more persuasive now that she has access to my naked ass on a nightly basis.

"What I'm trying to say," Lisbon continues, "is that we should do something you like to do."

I say, "I like being here with you. I have no complaints."

"Okay, then let me put it this way. I owe you a night out doing the activity of your choice, since you've been so good about doing things I like to do."

"You owe me nothing, Teresa." I frown at her. "Ever. I'm still trying to work off my many debts to you."

She sighs. "Then how about this: I want to give you a night out you'll really enjoy. We can go to the opera or something. Get all dressed up. Go to a snooty restaurant."

I'm touched, but I know taking Lisbon to the opera would end with her sleeping through most of it with her head on my shoulder. Not necessarily a bad thing from my point of view, but I think we can do better. She might appreciate the athleticism of ballet, though. Or at least get turned on by muscular men in tights. "Are you giving me free rein to direct our weekend?" I ask.

"Yes."

"As fancy as I like?"

She can't help looking adorably anxious. "Yes," she says bravely.

I grin. "Thank you, my love. I'll make some arrangements and let you know."

"I have a red dress I've never worn," she says, and I realize from her uncomfortable tone that she bought it while dating Pike, who seemed bent on hitting every trendy place in town.

"I can't wait to see it," I tell her truthfully.

mmm

A little sleuthing and a few calls bring my plan into focus. On Saturday we drive to Dallas, Lisbon behind the wheel so she has something to think about besides guessing what I have planned. We arrive at the 5-star hotel in late afternoon, and Lisbon's delight in the homey but elegant decor tells me I was right to go with this former private residence rather than one of the larger, brand name resort hotels.

Her red dress is a knockout, and I immediately know this evening is going to go very slowly as I anticipate getting back here so I can peel it off her. She smiles at the look I give her, then straightens my tie. "I don't think I've ever seen you in one of these," she says.

"Don't get used to it," I grin.

"I won't. It doesn't seem right on you," she muses. Then she grins. "I do miss the vests, though."

"Maybe I'll pick one up for special occasions," I tell her. I have one in mind, in fact, but it's too soon to bring that up.

We head down to the hotel restaurant for dinner. It's contemporary American cuisine, so it will push Lisbon's comfort zone a little while still enabling her to find something she likes. We're seated at a table near the beautiful marble fireplace, and I don't miss the relief on Lisbon's face as she looks at the menu. I'm not surprised when she picks the aged prime ribeye, and I order the rabbit because I've never had it before. I know I can convince her to try a bite.

The meal and the wine are truly excellent. It's been too long since I made an effort to seek out the finer things in life, and I love that Lisbon is willing to help me do so, at least occasionally.

We hold hands during the taxi ride to the theatre, relaxed and happy. Lisbon devours the program as soon as we sit down, trying to remedy her ignorance a bit. I was happy to find that Giselle was being performed; it's one of my favorites. It's the story of a man redeemed by the love of a good woman he has betrayed, causing her to die of a broken heart. Her spirit saves him after he is sentenced to die.

I wish for this occasion it had a happier ending, but you just don't find a lot of those in ballets and operas. Pain, after all, has a breathtaking, sharp-edged beauty that sunny joy lacks. I brought a spare handkerchief just in case. Lisbon isn't a crier, but she's pleasantly tipsy from expensive wine, and we'll have more at intermission.

Ballet was a good choice, I decide as Lisbon can't help but follow the action onstage. I slide my arm around her as Albrecht's identity is revealed at the end of Act One, causing poor Giselle's weak heart to give out. I'm so grateful my Lisbon is made of stronger stuff.

As we sip our champagne during intermission, she says, "This isn't going to end well, is it?"

"Perceptive of you," I tease. "What was your first clue, Agent?"

"The dead girl," she says dryly. "She should have kicked his shady ass to the curb and stuck with the guy who tried to tell her the truth."

"Hilarion? Meh. He was boring, and she didn't love him," I point out.

"Yeah, so he couldn't have broken her heart." She finishes her champagne, and I have the uneasy feeling that she's drawing a different parallel to the story than I am.

"If you believed that, you'd be with Pike right now," I remark, completely failing to pull off nonchalance.

Lisbon frowns at me. "What are you talking about?"

"You made the same choice as Giselle, didn't you? Picking the charming deceiver who'd betrayed you over the good, steady guy who'd never have caused you a moment's unhappiness?"

She blinks, wide-eyed. It takes her a moment to respond. "I would have been unhappy no matter what Marcus did, because I'd always have wondered how it could have been with you."

I nod. "Me too. Love isn't something you leave behind."

"I know." She bites her lip, then says, "I really do, Patrick. I know you're always going to love your wife and your daughter. And I'm okay with it. I mean, I'd never want you to stop, or to think that I think I'm taking their place."

The lights blink to signal that intermission is ending. My mind races as I try to come up with a response. "Your place in my heart is all yours, Teresa. There's room for all three of you." I try to smile. "When you put it back together again, the pieces didn't fit together like they used to. So it's bigger now."

Lisbon's eyes become a little wet, and she leans forward to kiss me. I am so tempted to skip to the finale I have planned for the evening, but she takes my hand and pulls me back to the theatre.

We're both a little teary through the second act, and when I hand Lisbon my handkerchief she doesn't even try to pretend she doesn't need it. The final scene, with Albrecht pleading with Giselle not to return to her grave, gets to both of us, and I have to close my eyes for a moment as Albrecht is left alone and broken.

I'd forgotten about that. It hits me hard now that I know what that feels like.

Lisbon reaches for my hand to squeeze it, then leans over and puts her arms around me to console me. I love her so much in this moment that I think my heart might burst. The applause that erupts around us feels fitting, as if to celebrate our happy ending that so nearly wasn't.

We're in the middle of a row, so there's no hurry to leave after the bows are taken and the curtain comes down for the last time. We kiss each other leisurely, sharing comfort and togetherness, exchanging wordless promises. Then we make our way out to the curb, arms around each other's waists, and get in line for a cab.

Lisbon is not a fan of public displays of affection, so I'm surprised but pleased when she cuddles up to me in the back seat and starts placing little butterfly kisses on my cheek. The effect is somewhat muted by my beard, and I think seriously about shaving.

When we arrive back at the mansion, I help her out of the cab and suggest a moonlight stroll. Lisbon is still dreamy eyed, but she frowns at me. "In these shoes? My feet are killing me."

Ah. The flaw in my plan appears. "Just over to the terrace, then. We can grab some dessert."

The thought of chocolate puts a gleam in her eye. "Okay."

I take off my tie and slide it into my jacket pocket as we settle at the table, unbuttoning the first two buttons of my shirt and enjoying the way Lisbon's pupils dilate. I'm getting nervous despite my confidence, so this is reassuring.

We share an ice cream sundae, and I feed her the last bite, watching her lips close around the spoon and suck on it lightly as I pull it back out of her mouth. Oh, someone has naughty plans for tonight. I just hope my own plans don't derail hers.

Now is the time. It's late and the place is almost empty, because it's only a few minutes to closing time. The night is clear and warm, and despite the city lights there are a few brave stars twinkling down on us.

I take a deep breath and slide my chair back, heart pounding. Lisbon's eyes get huge as I kneel in front of her and pull the small box out of my pocket. She's obviously shocked, and I can't tell what that means for the outcome of the question I'm about to ask.

Lisbon keeps her eyes on mine, trying desperately to read me, as I open the box. She barely glances at the ring, just a second's look to confirm that's what it is.

"Teresa," I say, my voice hoarse with nerves, "I love you. I cherish you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

One perfect diamond drop tear makes its way down her cheek. Was she expecting something showy? Did she want a big speech? Will she let me try again if she says no? I realize I've stopped breathing and force myself not to gulp in air as I take a breath.

"Yes," she says at last, her voice squeaky and quavering. Then she takes a deep breath and smiles brilliantly, her voice strong and firm as she repeats, "Yes."

I get up as she does, and we throw our arms around each other, our kisses broken with relieved laughter on my part and one little sob of joy on hers. Then I slide the ring onto her finger to applause from the staff, who are gathered around the host station to watch.

I taker her newly adorned hand in mine and lead her inside, smiling at the hostess and saying, "Charge it to the room, please."

"Certainly, Mr. Jane. And congratulations!" She smiles at us as we pass.

We hurry to our room, where I see my instructions have been followed to the letter. The room is filled with red roses, a vase on practically every flat surface and the crisp white sheets adorned with petals. Lisbon stops on the threshold, staring at the room's transformation.

Then she grins. "Awfully confident, weren't you?"

"Hopeful," I correct her, closing the door behind us. "Really, desperately hopeful."

Her eyes sparkle. Is it too cliche to compare them to emeralds? I don't care. They're far more precious, anyway.

"Unless I miss my guess," she purrs, "there's one more thing you're hoping for tonight."

I grin at her, my beautiful fiancée. "Not just one. Well, maybe just one thing, but multiple instances of it."

"Good. Unzip me?"

"With pleasure." I trail kisses down her spine as I uncover it, unhooking her bra as I go. She shrugs both bra and dress off, then steps out of it.

"Do you want me to leave my shoes on?" She turns to face me, nude except for her lacy red panties and ridiculous heels.

"No." I kneel and place an open mouth kiss over the scrap of lace, making her moan and knot her fingers in my hair. I think "ow" and "oh yeah" simultaneously.

"Thank God," she moans, and I unfasten her shoes, freeing her caged feet one at a time while she holds onto my shoulders for balance. Then I strip her panties off and kiss the mink-like thatch now bared to me.

"No," Lisbon manages to gasp out. "This is your night."

"It's our night," I argue. "And I like doing this."

"Then bed, because I can't stay upright while you do that," she replies.

I nuzzle her with my nose and get to my feet, only to be forcibly stripped of my jacket. I hurry to help her with my remaining clothing, because when she's this impatient, she can tear things. And I don't have that many clothes. Though maybe this is her way of making me buy more.

We devour each other, falling to the bed and working each other into a frenzy. The sheer intensity of our coupling is overwhelming, and I really hope these walls are soundproof as I bellow out her name while pouring everything I've got into her.

Panting, sweaty, and deliriously happy, I pull her into my arms afterwards. She runs her hands through my hair and rubs against me, prolonging her afterglow with a sexy, satisfied smile. "You called me Lisbon," she remarks, teasing me a little because I'm the one trying to move us to a first-name basis.

"You screamed 'Jane'," I point out, unable to keep from smirking.

"I'll try to do better, Patrick. Maybe I just need more practice."

"You'll get it," I promise, kissing the tip of her nose.

"Mm. Good." She smiles at me, radiantly happy. "Was this fancy enough for you? Or should I expect an escalation?"

"I'm good," I assure her.

"Good." She scrunches her nose a little. "Because I think I have a rose petal jammed up my ass."

I burst into laughter, real, involuntary, snorting laughter. I'm not sure she was joking, but I can't help it.

Lisbon traces my face with her fingers as if trying to memorize my laughter, smiling lovingly at me. "I love you," she says when I quiet down.

"I love you too. More than I can ever express." I kiss her softly.

"Good." She pulls out of my arms, rolling to her stomach. "Pull it out of there, and then you can call housekeeping to change the sheets. I'm not sleeping with all this crap in the bed."

I chuckle again, kissing her shoulder blade before following orders.

Epilogue

Since we had a fancy engagement, we had a simple wedding. And by that I mean a simple ceremony, because the process we had to go through to get married in Teresa's church was anything but. It was worth it, though. There were only a few of our close friends and her family in attendance, so there were lots of empty pews, and we didn't bother with decorations, but our happiness made it perfect.

Teresa wore a wedding gown, the least fussy one she could find, and I wore a vest with my tux, since it was definitely a special occasion. Cho was my best man, and Fischer was Teresa's maid of honor, and afterward we all changed into casual clothes and went to an Irish pub in lieu of a reception.

We spend our date nights the way Teresa prefers, casual and simple. But for my birthday, she takes me someplace with cloth napkins. And I get to plan our anniversaries. For the past nine years, we've returned to the mansion in Dallas for our celebratory weekend and sampled one of the city's cultural offerings. She's gotten comfortable with that level of fancy, though I was right about her falling asleep at the opera.

But for our tenth anniversary, I have something really special up my sleeve: two tickets to Monte Carlo. I've packed her an overnight bag with her tourist clothes, but we'll buy her evening gown and shoes there so she'll be in the latest fashion. I've got my brand new tux she doesn't know about packed and ready, and I've made arrangements to rent a convertible so we can go touring around Monaco and maybe hop over to Nice.

And I have a room booked at the Hotel de Paris, right by the casino. We'll have every luxury imaginable.

Except rose petals on the bed.