A/N: Thanks for your patience and understanding while waiting for this chapter. I am eternally thankful for my amazing partner Donnamour1969 who is always willing to help me pick up my slack, as she did to brilliant effect in the last chapter.

Please enjoy this final instalment of "What Lisbon Wants."

Chapter 9: Conclusion

The next morning, Jane was released from the hospital (the doctors were being extra careful as this was his second head injury in a matter of weeks.) He'd lain awake for hours thinking about Lisbon, about Charlotte, about his fantastic powers gained and lost, and thinking about how his life had managed to get so complicated, so quickly.

Without the constant buzzing of people's thoughts in his mind, he felt strangely lonely, even with the usual bustling of a busy hospital going on around him. The only two people who truly meant something to him were currently out of his reach. He honestly had no idea where he stood with Lisbon at the moment, and as for Charlotte, dear Charlotte, he couldn't even bear to think about what could happen.

It was on the matter of Charlotte that he most missed his psychic powers, as he quizzed every nurse that came into his room about her condition, but received only vague brush-offs and a repeated refrain that he should try to get some rest. Rest, indeed. How was he supposed to rest? Had he still possessed that strange ability, he'd have all the information he needed.

He signed the release forms, scrambled into the clothes Lisbon had brought him last night, and waited impatiently at the foot of the bed for her. Upon hearing of his impending release she'd insisted on driving back to collect him herself, which he'd readily agreed to for the added bonus of seeing her again. He'd missed her last night. After his second near-death experience, her company would have been welcome, even if she just wanted to tell him off.

She arrived about twenty minutes later, dressed in fresh clothes, hair washed, and smiling, but there was still weariness about her from the previous night's events. He shuddered to think about what might have happened if she hadn't been there. She had a knack for that, being in the right place at the right time. She always had his back, even when he didn't deserve it. She was a woman in a million.

"How's Charlotte?" he demanded to know, the moment she entered the room. She sighed sympathetically.

"Still unconscious. The doctors don't really know if she'll wake up."

"When," he corrected firmly. "She's going to wake up."

He didn't need to be psychic to know what she was thinking at that moment. She cast him a look of combined sympathy and concern, clearly worrying about how he might react if the worst should happen.

"The hospital has been searching for a next-of-kin. But seeing as her entire immediate family is either in jail or dead, they're not having much luck."

Not for the first time, Patrick Jane cursed the fact that so much hardship should fall on a girl so young. Surely there had to be someone who could help her. He'd be damned if he let her grow up in that awful Social Services building, under the care of the imbecile who'd allowed her to slip away and nearly get herself killed.

"It's not fair," he said aloud. "She doesn't deserve all this crap happening to her."

"I know." Lisbon reached out and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. Her touch was soothing, especially as she began to run her thumb back and forth, leaving warmth in its wake. "But Charlotte's a tough kid. Everything she's been through proves that. And Jane, I don't think you fully understand just how good you've been for her. Every time she sees you, that girl lights up like a Christmas tree."

She squeezed his shoulder once, and then let it go. "You've been there for her every step of the way," she said. "You've been the one constant in this whole terrible situation. She needed that. Take it from someone who knows."

It was then he remembered that Lisbon had been in a similar situation as Charlotte, back when she was young. She'd probably know better than anyone; so if she told him he had helped, he'd believe her.

Despite his annoyance at being hospitalized again, he was reluctant to leave, lest Charlotte should wake and find herself alone in this strange place. Lisbon, however, seemingly with psychic powers of her own, appeared to have foreseen this and had already instructed the staff to update them immediately on any developments concerning Charlotte. Even so, he insisted on visiting the little girl's hospital room before they left, and caught his breath, and felt a lump come to his throat at the sight of the small, sweet child lying utterly still, surrounded by machines.

He felt Lisbon slip her hand into his.

"I know," she said. "I was the same the first time I saw it. It's a lot to take in."

He wanted to wrap his arms around her, pull her close, but he was no longer allowed to do that. They were allies only as far as Charlotte was concerned. Other than that, thanks to his own stupidity (and a little help from Lorelei and Erica, the Whores of Sacramento) he had no right to intrude upon her life any further. He'd already caused her enough pain.

"I didn't want anything to happen to her," he said.

"I know."

She was looking at him with those soft eyes again, and he would've given anything to be able to know what she was thinking. Was it simply concern for Charlotte or was there something else too? He realised now that he had come to rely almost fully on thoughts in order to read people. Devoid of his secret weapon, it was now time to get back to reading facial cues and expressions. He couldn't be seen to be losing his touch, after all.

Charlotte remained in a coma for the following two days. Jane, while not being able to bear being in the same room as her unconscious form, was also unable to settle to anything else either, despite the distraction of a new case. He was the first to admit that he hadn't handled the situation well. He'd been unfocused, agitated, and combative with everyone to the victim's family, to the suspect, to the team. Cho and Rigsby had become quite thoroughly annoyed with him only a few hours into the first day, and by the end of the second, even Lisbon's legendary patience was beginning to wear thin. He could see it in her eyes sometimes, that internal battle over whether she ought to comfort him or throw something heavy at him.

He'd been banished to the couch in the bullpen after informing the suspect's wife (none too gently) that he'd been cheating on her and being decidedly unsympathetic, as she'd burst into tears. But as he'd told Lisbon during the ensuing argument, he wasn't here to mollycoddle murderer's wives. What was it to him if they had abysmal taste in men?

Lisbon had looked as though she would really have liked to retort at that point, and he wished that she would, but gone were the days when she let her guard down around him and allowed her emotions to be clear. She ordered him to the couch, and he lay there fuming at the world and everyone in it.

Perhaps his state of almost constant anger had exhausted him, because he eventually fell asleep there. He woke to Lisbon gently shaking him, and the annoyance came flooding back. She'd sent him here for Christ's sake, what could he possibly have done to piss her off now? He opened his mouth to let her have it, when she said the only two words that could have stopped him.

"Charlotte's awake."

Lisbon needed to stay behind and finish up the paperwork for the case before leaving for the hospital, but Jane refused to wait a single second longer, and was off the couch and running for the elevator before she could get another word in. The fact that he didn't run into any police on the way to the hospital was a miracle as he drove like a maniac, and found himself bursting into her room only twenty minutes later.

"Patrick!"

The little girl had jumped at his sudden entrance but was smiling eagerly at him. She seemed a little paler than usual, and her voice slightly hoarse from the tubes, but she was alive.

"You scared me," he said, in a tone half-accusing, half-relieved, and so parent-like it surprised him. "Don't ever do something like that again."

Her face fell. "Are you mad at me?"

Immediately, he felt guilty at upsetting her, and it was only the excess of wires still attached to her that stopped him from embracing her.

"Of course not," he said. "But I was very scared. It was just lucky I knew where to find you."

"I knew you would."

"I wasn't so sure there, for a while."

"Patrick?" The little girl's hand closed over his, and it calmed him to feel her pulse, strong and steady. "I couldn't hear you coming just now." She tapped the side of her head. "I think it's gone."

"Mine too," he confessed, and oh, how good it felt to tell this to somebody who truly understood. Lisbon had probably put it down to the ramblings of a concussed man the other day.

"That's sad," she said, quietly. "I liked it."

"Me too."

"I liked talking to you the best."

He smiled warmly. "Me too."

It was the truth. But listening in to the fascinating mind of Teresa Lisbon had come in a very, very close second.

"Why do you think it went away?" she asked, innocently.

He supposed the deprivation of oxygen while she'd been underwater had caused a little brain damage, but it had simply robbed her of the extraordinary ability. It wasn't wholly a bad thing. Charlotte was not yet old enough to know how to handle such an ability. Inevitably, she would slip up somewhere and then find herself either institutionalised, or at the mercy of some money-hungry opportunist, exploiting her gifts. She'd be better off growing up as a normal kid; even without telepathy she'd be the smartest kid in the bunch.

"I guess it didn't think we needed it anymore," he said instead, and she seemed to accept that answer.

The door clicked open, and a young woman with golden hair to rival Charlotte's stepped into the room, clutching a cup of coffee and a donut.

"Aunt Chrissy!" Charlotte cried, and then homed in on the donut. "Is that for me?"

The woman chuckled. "No, it's for me," she replied in a strong Australian accent. "I've eaten nothing but plane food for the last 17 hours, but if the doctors say it's OK, I'll let you have a bit."

"Yay!" said Charlotte eagerly, reaching for the pastry.

"In a minute sweetheart, once your doctor comes by. She said she'd be along around now." The woman placed the coffee and pastry on the bedside table and her eyes fell on Jane. "And who's this?" she asked.

Jane watched her eyes make the familiar journey from his head to his feet and back again. She smiled appreciatively at him when she'd finished, and Jane found himself trying to recall if Lisbon had done the same thing when they'd first met. Vanity aside, most women tended to do it, but he couldn't remember it; quite possibly because he'd been too busy checking her out to notice. That was a shame.

"This is Patrick," said Charlotte, enthusiastically. "He's my friend."

"So you're the one who found her, eh?" she asked. "Well I suppose thanks are in order." She extended a hand. "Christine Kincaid."

"Patrick Jane."

She lowered her voice so Charlotte, who had just discovered the TV remote, wouldn't hear. "Thank you for saving my niece. What with my brother dead at the hands of our other brother and his wife I don't think I could have coped with any more tragedies."

"I didn't do it alone," he said, thinking of Lisbon, who had not only saved Charlotte, but him as well.

"Well, whatever fleet of people assisted you, make sure you pass on my gratitude to them all."

"I will. I assume you're Charlotte's next of kin?"

"Yup," the young woman agreed. "Well technically Jasper was first in line, but with circumstances being what they are…" she trailed off into an angry silence. "He better hope he never gets out of jail. Anyway, I've come to take Charlotte home with me."

The accent and the mention of the long flight had given Jane a good indication of where 'home' was but his heart still sank when she confirmed it. "My boyfriend and I have got a place in Sydney, near the beach. She'll like it there."

Australia. His little friend couldn't be going any further away than that. The truth sunk in. Once she left, he'd most likely never see her again.

"I just think the further I get her away from here, the better," Christine went on. "But the thing is, I haven't exactly told her yet. Would you mind giving us a minute?"

"Of course."

He shut the door behind him as he walked back into the hall. There was an array of plastic chairs against the wall, and he collapsed into one.

"How is she?" Lisbon's soft voice rang out from beside him, and he didn't think he'd ever heard a more welcome sound.

"She's okay," he said. "Her aunt's here."

"That's great! She'll be out of social services at last."

"She's taking her to Australia," he continued, flatly.

"Oh." A pause. "I'm sorry, Jane."

"It's the best thing for her," he said. "She'll be with family, and she'll be safe."

Lisbon wound an arm around his shoulders. "I'm still sorry," she said.

"Thanks." He chanced leaning his head on her shoulder, and took heart when she didn't shrug it off. "Thanks for everything."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

A week later, Charlotte was released from the hospital. Jane had been visiting her every day, showing her more magic tricks (now made easier because she couldn't riffle through his mind and find out how she did it) and listening to her chatter on about her new life in "Straya" (Christine had been attempting to teach her the correct pronunciation with limited success.) He was glad she was excited about going to live with her aunt, but wasn't entirely sure if she realized that going away meant they wouldn't be seeing each other anymore. Of course, knowing Charlotte and her cleverness, she might well know exactly what was happening, and he was just turning into a sentimental fool, just like he'd always feared.

He'd seen little of Lisbon the past week; she'd been busy with work, and he'd wanted to spend as much time with Charlotte as possible before she left, but he'd missed her. He'd missed their little sparring matches, their banter; he'd especially missed her kisses. He hoped that the time apart had cooled her anger enough that they might be able to be friends again, at the very least. And if that weren't enough for him anymore, he would just have to find a way to deal with it. He would not screw her around anymore. He at least owed her that much.

Christine went to arrange the discharge paperwork, leaving Jane and Charlotte alone. Charlotte's aunt had gotten used to his presence over the past week, and had never questioned it, but he could see the curiosity in her eyes, and figured she'd suspected there was more to their relationship than just pulling her from a lake.

Charlotte, free of the hospital gown at last, was sitting on the edge of the bed, swinging her legs back and forth.

"I'm going on an airplane!" she announced, happily. "I've never been on one before."

"That's pretty exciting," he agreed. "And when you get off you're going to be in a whole new place, and it's going to be summertime."

"Really?" He smiled as her little mind tried to reconcile the fact that it could be winter in one place, and summer in another. "Will Aunt Chrissy take me to the beach?"

"I bet she will." He had a feeling 'Aunt Chrissy' would be spoiling the girl rotten for the foreseeable future. He was glad. If there was any kid that deserved it, it was Charlotte.

"Will mummy and daddy come too?" the girl asked. "How long does a business trip take anyway?"

Jane winced. So far, everybody had been very careful about what they said around Charlotte as far as her parents were concerned. It was hardly his place to tell her what had happened, that lot fell to Christine, but still he didn't like the idea of her not knowing. It looked likely that Mrs Kincaid and Jasper would be under the care of the state of California for a good few years to come, by the time they were released, Charlotte would be nearing adulthood.

"Your mum and dad won't be coming with you," he said, heavily, and her little face fell.

"Why? I miss them. Don't they miss me?"

"I'm sure they do. But your aunt will explain it all to you when you get there," he said.

"Can't you do it? You're coming, aren't you?"

Another sticky moment. He began willing Christine to hurry up and get the paperwork done so she could end this awkward conversation.

"I have to stay here," he said. "This is where my house is."

"I'm getting a new house. Can't you get one too?"

He almost laughed at the logic of a four-year-old. If only life were that simple. He searched for a way to explain as gently as he could.

"I kind of like the one I've got," he said. "And this is where my job is."

"And Miss Teresa?" put in Charlotte. "You like her too."

"I do," he agreed.

"You would miss her if you went away?"

"I would."

"Are you going to miss me?" The question was laced with sudden panic, as though Jane was going to forget her the moment the door closed behind her.

He chuckled and sat next to her on the bed. She scooted across until she was nestled against him, and he felt his hand automatically begin to stroke her hair. "Of course I am, kid," he said. "More than you could possibly know."

Jane walked alongside Charlotte and Christine out to the front of the hospital where a cab was waiting for them. Despite his bets efforts to seem cheerful, clever little Charlotte picked up on his sombre mood, which seemed to finally bring home to her that this goodbye meant forever. She burst into tears, flung herself at him and clung to him as her aunt tried to gently persuade her to let him go and get into the cab.

After a minute or two of this, and a few sighs of impatience from Christine, Jane gently prised Charlotte's arms from around his legs, and crouched down so he was at her level. She took the opportunity to bury her head in his shoulder and cry some more.

"Charlotte, you are the bravest kid I have ever met," he said, gently. "You're going to be just fine. Your aunt is going to take good care of you, and you're going to have lots of fun in Australia. Did you know they have lots of cool animals there that you can't find anywhere else in the world? You like animals, don't you?"

She nodded against his shoulder.

"You'll make new friends, and soon you'll get to go to school and become even smarter than you are now. And your aunt is going to make sure that you're never on your own again."

"That's right," said Christine. She reached tentatively for Charlotte. "Come on honey, we've got a plane to catch. Say goodbye to Patrick."

"I don't want to," the little girl said.

"Neither do I," he confessed. "But we've got to."

She clung to him tighter. "Bye Patrick," she managed to say, between sobs.

"Goodbye Charlotte," Jane whispered gently. "Go on now, your aunt is waiting. It's okay. Go on. Be brave for me one more time."

Charlotte gave a great sniffle, squeezed him once more, and then finally allowed her aunt to lead her away and into the taxi. Jane concentrated on not letting any of his own tears escape as Christine got Charlotte settled in the back of the cab; if she saw he was upset, they'd be back to square one.

Christine shut the door behind them and extended a hand to Jane.

"Mr Jane, I want to thank you for being there for my niece during all of this. We won't forget it. If you're ever in Sydney, look us up."

"Will do. Have a safe flight."

He avoided looking at Charlotte as Christine put her arm around her and the taxi pulled away from the curb.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Long after the taxi had disappeared, Jane finally found his way back to his car and drove in a daze. It was only when he saw the signs for the CBI entrance that he realised where he was going. Abruptly, and to the chagrin of other drivers, he pulled a highly illegal manoeuvre and drove the opposite way back to his apartment.

Much as he desired Lisbon's company at this moment, he was determined not to seek her out. Yes, he was in love with her. Yes, he wanted to see her more than anything, but he had finally come to realise that he was no good for her, and her welfare was more important than his own. Besides, he was hardly in a state to be good company at the current time.

He got home, turned on the TV, poured a drink. Poured another. And another. But it wasn't making him feel any better. This was normally about the time he'd go and pick up a girl, but he was a changed man now. No more trawling the bars and pubs for easy prey; there was only one woman whom he was interested in now.

He badly wanted to see her, talk to her, and commiserate with her about the loss of Charlotte. It was rather alarming how quickly his little urchin had wormed her way into his heart. He hadn't been lying before; he was going to miss her terribly. In fact, he'd found he'd related better to her than some adults in his life, especially over the psychic thing.

They'd probably be in the air by now, winging their way towards the land down under. Christine had provided him with some contact details before they'd left, so they could keep in touch, but he was determined not to use them yet; Charlotte needed time to adjust to the move, and to life without her parents; the last thing she needed was a blast from the past to remind of this dark time in her young life.

He ambled into the kitchen with the idea of fixing himself a slice of toast and a cup of tea, after which he was seriously considering diving into bed and sulking for the rest of the day; however, this appealing notion was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door.

He shuffled unenthusiastically toward it, expecting it to be yet another package that had been meant for his neighbour, (he swore she addressed them wrong on purpose so he'd have to bring them over himself) but when he opened it, was pleasantly surprised to find Lisbon leaning against the doorframe.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, genuinely thrown, but pleased too. She smiled at his confusion.

"Don't tell me I actually managed to catch the great Patrick Jane off his guard," she laughed.

"Indeed you did," he said, not seeing the point in lying.

"I just thought I'd come by and check on you," she said quietly, as the jovial mood dissipated. "I know Charlotte left today."

He pushed the door wider. "Come on in."

She followed him into the living room and he got her a glass of cold water from the kitchen. She settled herself comfortably on his expensive leather couch, and he took a moment to appreciate how much at home she looked in his apartment. He could get used to this.

"How are you doing?" she asked. "Really."

"I'm fine."

She raised an eyebrow. "Jane."

"I know it's the best thing for her, and I know it was what she needed, but I'm going to miss her. And I kind of feel like I want to go and get her back." He sighed. "I know that's stupid, and that I couldn't have looked after her properly, but I still can't help but feel I should have done more for her, you know?"

Lisbon smiled warmly. "You did all you could Jane, and you know what I think?" she asked. "I think this is hitting you so hard because you loved that little girl more than you've loved anyone in your entire life. It's nice." She paused briefly. "You'll make someone a great father someday."

"You think so?

"I know so."

"Well that makes one of us."

She sighed. "So you weren't ready now. That's nothing to be ashamed of. I'm not either."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." Someone as naturally caring as Lisbon would find a way to be an amazing mother even if she were living in a cardboard box. She had the nurturing thing down to a fine art.

"Thank you." She took another sip of her water. "I'm actually not just here because of Charlotte though," she confessed. "Minelli wants to offer you a permanent job."

"What?"

"He figures it would be to our mutual benefit to have you on board full-time. Your involvement in our cases gets them closed faster than we ever have before," she said. "And the good press helps us as much as it helps you."

"And this was all Minelli's idea?" he asked, shrewdly, and noticed the way she averted her eyes from his, telling him that she'd had more to do with the forming of this plan than she was letting on.

"You said you wanted out of the psychic game," she said. "This is a way for you to do it. And besides," she paused, as though debating whether to say the next part or not, "I kind of like your being around."

She was flushing with embarrassment, clearly fearing that she had said too much, but he felt his heart give a great leap. Hope like he hadn't felt since the Erica and Lorelei incident flowed through him and he had to work hard to keep from grinning widely.

"Well, that's lucky," he said. "Because I kind of like being around you. A lot."

Her eyes widened with shock, and she hastily put her glass of water down on the small end table.

"Jane…"

He reached for her hand, feeling her pulse thrumming quickly underneath his fingertips. He'd said he wouldn't push her anymore, but then again, Patrick Jane wasn't one to not take a chance when it presented itself.

"Teresa, these past few weeks have been some of the greatest ones of my life," he said. "Partly because of Charlotte, but also, because of you."

"Jane, please…"

"Here's the thing," he went on in a rush, before he lost his nerve. "I'm in love with you. And I want to be with you, and no one else. What are your thoughts on that?"

He could have detailed the many things about her that he loved, but when it came to things as important as this, he preferred to get straight to the point. Besides, once he'd gotten on a roll, they might be here all night, and he was kind of impatient to know what she was thinking.

Never in his life had he wished for psychic powers more than this moment. He could see her brain ticking over, taking it all in. He searched her expression for clues and found nothing conclusive, everything from utter shock, to a quiet flattery. It felt like an hour before she spoke again.

"This is just like you, Jane," she said. "It's so typical of you to drop this on me out of nowhere; you can be a real bastard sometimes, you know?"

He chuckled. "So I've been told."

She sighed. "I love you too," she said, with an air of admitting something very unpleasant. "Despite my best efforts not to, I do love you." She lifted her eyes to finally meet his. "Of course I do. You never really gave me a chance not to."

"I had you at 'hello,' did I?" he quipped, hoping to lighten the mood, and was relived to see a little smile appear on her face.

"You wish. I'm not that easy."

"So when was it then?" he asked, genuinely curious at to when her attitude had changed.

"You're the psychic. You tell me."

He grinned devilishly. "You know I get a better read on things through touch," he said, his voice low, and he was pleased to see her shiver. "Come here."

THE END

A/N: And so concludes another run around the Mentalist arena for Donnamour1969 and myself. If you liked this one, you might like to check out our other collaborative efforts "Scarlet Woman" "Teresa" and "Red Roulette" (in her profile) and "Eyes Like The Sea" (in mine.) In any case, thank you for reading, and happy holidays to all.

Donna here. I second all waterbaby said above! As always, it has been a pleasure to work with her. Thanks to you readers for the wonderful reviews. Stay tuned for a new fic from me, with sort of a Christmas theme, coming soon. Merry Christmas!