A/N: This is it! Thanks for continuing to read, despite all my uncertainty of the complete-status as I wrote it. This is definitely an ending. Wrapping everything up satisfactorily is very hard to get right, so I appreciate all feedback. (when in doubt, reviews are always welcome!) This chapter is dedicated to the five people who consistently load the story as soon as the notification email hits. You make me smile. Hope to see you on other stories along the way.

A pinprick of pain rested against his neck and he went still. He could sense the weight of someone behind him. A hand snaked around his arm, holding him steady. He could feel a whisper of breath against his ear. His own breathing rate increased, the sound of his heartbeat nearly drowning out the nasally high pitched voice he associated with Red John.

"They look upon his eyes / Filled with deep surprise," the voice recited. "Hello, Patrick."

Jane swallowed thickly, instinctively stretching his neck to avoid the cold point of steel. It was all shadows and hard angles, but he could see enough to know the other man wore some sort of mask over his head. "I was hoping to run into you here," he forced out, attempting levity. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth.

He felt dirty, the killer holding him close like an embrace. He couldn't move, couldn't even make himself relax his hands from the fists they had formed. They breathed together, shared the same air. The tension built inside him as the silence grew.

"I could see it in your eyes, your invitation," Red John finally spoke again. "Panzer made a mockery of me, but you were pulling the strings. So much potential. So much blood on your hands."

Jane felt the urge to wipe his sweaty palms clean. He clenched his fists tighter, fought for control of himself. He made his voice low, cold. "He needs to be stopped. One way or another."

"The system can always be rigged, but death is so very final. You know that well, don't you, Patrick?" A low chuckle grated at his ears. "Well, for some of us."

Jane pressed his lips together into a grim line. "Carter was very convincing, but the cover up was telling… Is the knife really necessary?"

"You'll forgive me if I don't trust your intentions."

"I have no weapons. If we're just waiting, I wouldn't mind a chair."

He flinched as his phone vibrated in his pocket. Hope diffused through his chest, he breathed a little easier. It must be Lisbon calling to check on him. He wouldn't need to answer, she would come.

Red John made the same inference. "Does your Agent Lisbon know what you're doing here?"

"I'm, uh, well, I was collecting evidence against Panzer."

"Collecting or planting? Or laying in wait. Dragging her into your web of lies." He leaned closer, whispered into his ear. "So easy to lie to the ones we love."

The knife pulled away as Red John stepped back. Jane swallowed again and straightened ever so slightly. The killer was still poised, now holding a gun.

"Empty your pockets," he demanded. "Slowly."

Jane held out his hands to show they were empty, then methodically rifled through his pockets, putting a handful of items on a stable looking stack. Red John examined the iPod curiously.

"It's Panzer's," Jane explained. "I thought it might…" He shook his head. "Never mind."

Red John took everything, leaving no evidence behind. He patted Jane down, then prodded him further into the duplex, following close behind into the kitchen. There was clutter here too, but less paper. They came to a patio door and paused.

"Open it."

Jane meticulously twisted the lock and tugged on the handle. It slid open effortlessly. "We're not waiting? Where are we going?" he asked as he stepped through onto the deck. Red John pointed him towards the stairs.

"To take care of your problem."

They moved together towards a narrow alley at the back of the property. Red John didn't urge Jane to move any faster, so he took almost painfully slow steps. He strained his ears, waiting to hear Lisbon's voice calling out to them. His hope dwindled the further they got from the house.

They approached a car, just out of the light cast from a street lamp. A figure emerged from the driver's side. He wore a half mask over his eyes and nose, a hat obscuring his hair. He walked with a very slight limp.

"Hold out your wrists," Red John prompted as the man neared them.

Jane did as he was instructed and the driver slipped some interlocked thick zip ties over them, pulling until the plastic bit into his skin.

"Any trouble?" asked Red John. The driver shook his head. "Excellent." He took out Jane's phone and removed the battery and sim card before discarding it. His friend opened the back door of the car and guided Jane inside.

Jane's heart sank at the sight of Lisbon on the other seat. She was unconscious, turned towards him with her neck stretched out uncomfortably. Her own wrists were secured like his.

"Lisbon?" he asked in alarm. The door shut firmly behind him. He shifted and brought his hands up to her face, stroking her cheek. She remained still, and he held his breath until he could determine the faint noise of her own.

The front doors opened simultaneously and the masked men settled in.

"What did you do to her?" Jane growled.

Red John didn't bother to turn his head. "Your Agent Lisbon will be perfectly fine. Didn't want to alarm the neighbors."

The engine started and they pulled away. It was a unmarked cop car with a barrier between them and the front seat. There was no use fighting. Wherever Red John was going, they were along for the ride.

X

They took a lot of back roads through increasingly quiet streets to arrive at a warehouse. Lisbon woke on the way, groggy and out of sorts. She bounced back quickly as she realized what was happening and the adrenaline kicked in. Jane whispered a few calming words, but otherwise encouraged her to remain quiet. He was all too aware of their audience. Their clasped hands were the only outward sign of their concern.

The driver parked the car under a small canopy in an otherwise empty lot. He got out and ushered Jane and Lisbon towards the door at gunpoint while Red John followed leisurely, brandishing his knife once more.

The interior was lit with work lights on stands, making more shadows and dark corners. Some open steel shelves held a variety of trinkets and tools, arranged with some work benches to create defined work areas.

As they walked through one of the bays, Jane bumped into one of the shelves. He paused to apologize and right a few items that had fallen. The driver in the half mask pushed him along roughly.

A cleared area beyond the shelving slowly came into view. A heavy duty metal chair was ringed by lights, a slumped figure strapped into it. His head was bent down as if he were sleeping, but he perked up a bit as they approached. It was Panzer. He hummed in protest against a duct tape gag.

The hope in his eyes dimmed as he realized the newcomers were not in a position to help.

Another minion was standing guard nearby. He didn't wear a mask, but he stuck to the shadows. Red John dismissed him with a wave and he promptly slipped out they way they had come in.

Lisbon paused at the edge of the clearing. The driver stopped with her, clearly transitioning to the role of a guard. Jane continued on, warming to his audience. "There he is! You snuck him out from under the FBI's noses!" He studied Panzer victoriously, then frowned and turned to Red John who was hovering behind him. "Can we do away with the tape? I was hoping we could all have a chat."

"We're not here to talk."

"A professional courtesy, surely? One serial killer to another?" Red John stepped forward menacing and growled low in his throat. Jane stepped back with his hands raised as best he could in apology. "My mistake."

Red John stalked closer to Panzer, creating tension with each step. He loomed over him, then suddenly ducked down to peer into his face. He seemed satisfied at the fear he saw there. He traced his knife almost playfully across the man's cheek. "He will know precisely why he's here by the time I'm done with him."

"Do you usually wear a mask during your kills? Don't feel obligated on our account."

"Jane," hissed Lisbon in warning.

"Your agent is very wise. Unless you'd like to be silenced also?"

"You keep calling her my agent. I don't own her."

"Merely reminding you of what you have to lose."

Jane lowered his head in submission. He glanced around the room and noticed the driver was frowning. The man shifted and his expression cleared.

They stood together tensely for a few moments, before Lisbon dared to say something. "Sorry, why are we here?"

"Justice," Jane answered coldly.

"Patrick was so eager to invoke my name, I've come to clean up your mess. And you're here to watch his fall from grace."

Lisbon looked between them uncertainly. "What does that mean?" Jane's false merriness was gone, replaced by a coolness that made her shiver. "You're not — Jane, that's not the plan. You promised. We are the law."

Jane turned to her, defiant and tense. He spoke quietly and firmly, just to her. "The system is flawed. We weren't going to get him any other way." He was so close, he rested his forehead against hers, took her hands. She resisted the contact briefly, but he shifted to grip her more tightly. "I'm so tired, Teresa."

He pressed a long kiss to her forehead, making an audible popping sound as he pulled away. He ignored the tears in her eyes.

"Don't do it, Jane," she whispered. "Patrick. Nothing is worth this."

He turned, engaging with Red John again. His jaw clenched, he asked, "Let's get this over with. Do I get a knife?"

"So eager. This is something to savor." Red John circled Panzer, his knife skimming along his form. Panzer's breathing quickened at the proximity. He tried to turn his head to follow the movement, but Red John held it in place, forcing him to face front. Jane stood still to watch in fascination. Red John continued on languidly, moving along the other arm. "Anticipation is the best part of fear."

He came full circle, graceful like a dance. Then he launched himself at Jane, spinning him to face the others with the knife back at his neck. "Don't forget who is in control," he hissed. "Never forget."

Jane swallowed thickly, the knife pressing into him.

"Say it!" Red John bellowed.

Jane's mouth opened and closed wordlessly. He could feel Lisbon's distress as she stood nearby, powerless. He was playing without a safety net and was one step away from falling. He closed his eyes to gather his strength and try again. He calmed himself by sifting through the details of the room. He frowned. Something was off — wrong, and it wasn't the blasted knife at his throat again.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes opened and met the cold eyes of the driver. The other man was standing tensely, ready to snap. He hadn't said a word this whole time. His clothes fit him oddly, stretching across his chest in a way that made him look slightly disproportionate. Jane watched him blink, a slow deliberate movement. Thoughts aligned.

"You like feeling powerful," Jane said in his soothing manner, the effect slightly ruined by the strain he was under. "You hold it well, very creepy. I was nearly convinced." He still held the pressing gaze of the driver. "Still… Best not to go off script when the boss is watching, don't you think?"

Red John hissed and pressed the knife further, drawing a bead of blood.

Jane winced, but his eyes issued a challenge to the man across the room. The driver finally moved. "Enough," he ground out, drawing attention to himself, his gun raised threateningly.

Red John shifted his focus, raising slightly. "You dare to —"

There was a loud crack of gunfire and Jane felt raw heat on his upper right arm. He gasped in surprise. The weight of the masked man fell away from him. Jane turned as if in a haze to see him on the ground, a pool of blood spreading on the concrete.

He sat down heavily onto the floor, then scrambled away from the mess, away from the others.

It sounded like someone was calling to him, but it was muffled by a high pitched whine. There was a fuzziness at the edges of his vision, his breath loud in his ears. His arm hurt. He looked down at it and saw blood.

Sound came rushing back.

"Jane!" Lisbon called out, held back by the driver.

He inclined his head towards her, but couldn't make the words work. With his wrists bound he couldn't staunch the blood flow. He fingered the small wound on his neck instead. He looked again at the false Red John, dying. "He didn't know, did he?" he gasped, turning back to the driver. "He thought you were just another minion."

"I don't have minions," the driver, aka the real Red John, declared. "I have followers, disciples. All of them willing to die for me." He used the falsetto voice now, but he grabbed Lisbon's arm roughly and started to drag her towards Jane. Panzer howled against his gag in bewilderment and alarm at the man now dead in front of him.

Lisbon fought back, planting her feet and twisting in his grip. She managed to catch him off guard and dropped Red John to his knees. She backed away as he righted herself, aiming his own gun at him. Her wrists were no longer bound.

Red John held his arms out in casual surrender. "Very sneaky, Patrick. But predictable." He dropped his hands again and addressed Lisbon directly. "You're out of bullets. Thanks for putting your fingerprints on that."

He hurried towards the body. All signs of his limp were gone. Lisbon swore while her gun clicked on empty. Before she could switch tactics, Red John had scooped up the dead man's weapons and was pointing a gun back at her. Lisbon threw her empty gun at him and darted into the work bays, finding cover. Red John fired two shots after her, then hunkered down next to Jane at the far edge of the clearing and chuckled. "There's no escape for her. I have people outside. Still feeling lucky?"

"You didn't need to kill him."

Red John looked casually at the mess he had caused. "No, I suppose not." He smiled widely. "But it helps set up a great cover story."

Jane turned away and tried to scooch along the floor. Red John caught him easily and positioned himself at his ear, playing with the knife with much greater ease than the impostor had.

"You could still help me with Panzer, redeem yourself. I may even let your Agent Lisbon live."

"Go. To hell." Jane gasped out.

"Things are looking very bleak for you. You sure that's what you want to go with?" He squeezed roughly on Jane's bleeding arm to prove his point.

Jane yelped, then focused on slowing his breathing. In and out. Red John wrestled the jacket off of Jane, causing more suffering as he showed no interest in coddling his injury. Jane winced at the sound of fabric tearing. Red John used the lining to fashion a crude bandage, tying it tightly around the oozing red spot on his upper arm. "Can't have you bleeding out before the fun is over."

Movement came from the bays, and Lisbon came back with another man holding her at gunpoint. It was the guard who had left when they got there. He had a lean build, but had the posture and confidence of a cop.

Lisbon shook her head at Jane, her lips pursed thin. Her arms were secured behind her now with handcuffs, a bruise darkened on her cheek. Jane smiled lightly at the fire in her eyes. She was angry, not defeated.

Red John sighed dramatically as he stood up. "I really hoped things could be different between us, Patrick." He walked past Panzer into the shadows, trailing the knife along the panicked man's arm as he went. He returned with another chair, the feet dragging noisily across the floor.

He kicked the dead body aside so the chairs were facing each other. Then he held his arm out to summon Lisbon. The guard pushed her towards him, following slightly behind. Jane tried to trip him up on the way past and got kicked in the gut for his trouble. He groaned and curled inwards.

Lisbon stopped short.

"Get in the chair, lady," the man urged.

"You really expect me to cooperate with you?"

Red John advanced on her. Lisbon held her ground, her jaw tight with defiance. He raised his knife, skimmed along her arm. He brought it up to her cheek, then paused at her lack of reaction. "No," he said quietly, like he was answering his own question. "We both know where this is heading. You won't beg for your own life." He stepped back, then stalked purposely back to Jane.

He pulled Jane's hair, pulling his head back and exposing his neck. "His face?" he asked, then moved the knife lower, towards the vest buttons. He hovered over Jane's lower belly. "Or perhaps somewhere more… intimate?" He grinned. "Just enough to scar."

Lisbon found Jane's gaze. He tried to convey assurance to her, his lids heavy with pain, his breathing erratic. Her mouth tightened. She turned away from him and went around the chair to sit on it's edge, her bound hands preventing her from sitting further back.

"No trouble now," the dirty cop said, coming up behind her. She sat tensely while he released one hand and then pulled her still cuffed hand to the arm of the chair and refastened the metal around it.

While he worked, Red John toyed with his knife. He slipped it under Jane's shirt sleeve. "So many times I could have marked you," he said quietly.

I see trees of green... Red roses too...

The song "What a Wonderful World" started blaring at top volume. It was muffled, coming from the direction of the dead man. Red John flinched, nicking Jane's arm lightly. He pulled away.

"What the hell?" he muttered under his breath. He went to investigate.

The man with Lisbon pulled out another set of cuffs and walked in front of her to attend to her other arm. She kicked out at him at full strength. He doubled over, swearing. He gave her a long look, seething in anger.

As Red John bent over the body, fishing in the man's pockets, Jane stood unsteadily to his feet. He centered himself, then shuffled towards Red John, eyes intent on the killer's unattended gun tucked into the back of his pants.

The dirty cop pulled back his arm menacingly. The music stopped. There was a crash in the sudden silence. Red John straightened angrily. The cop was on the floor, unresponsive. Lisbon was still perched on the edge of her seat, facing away. Panzer stared back at him with threatening eyes.

"What is going on?" Red John took one step towards them, then whirled back towards Jane as he felt a weight lifted from him.

Jane leveled the gun at him with a weak smile, backing away to create space between them.

Red John eyed him warily. "What'll it be, Patrick?" he asked. "For every follower that falls, another will take their place. Lisbon is as good as dead. Anything else you tell yourself is a lie. But you can make it easier for her if you cooperate. Your choice. Give me the gun."

Jane's hands trembled. "I don't think I will."

"Look at you. You can barely hold that gun up. You'd better not miss, I won't give you a second chance."

"Drop it. Do it now!" Cho's voice rang out. Law enforcement officers spread out into the room, coming from a different entrance behind Panzer. Rigsby and Van Pelt were distinctive among them, the others marked by FBI Kevlar vests.

Jane and Red John didn't waver, only focused on each other. Two FBI agents joined Cho at the stand off, adding their own guns to the mix. "Put down your weapons," one of them barked.

The masked man grinned and held his hands out in surrender, still holding the knife loosely.

"About time you got here," Jane admonished, swaying lightly on his feet. Blood soaked through his bandage.

"Darcy needed convincing." Cho kept his gun trained on Red John. "Drop your knife."

It fell with a clatter. "It's not what it looks like. That woman shot my friend, and I brought a knife to a gun fight. I appreciate your timely intervention."

"That woman who was partially restrained over there with no weapons?" Cho asked without inflection. "If you're so innocent, then why are you wearing a mask and disguising your voice?"

"He doesn't want to be recognized," Jane answered.

Cho moved in and wrestled Red John's hands behind him, snapping the cuffs with finality.

Jane lowered the gun and leaned forward to bat the mask down. "I see you, Thomas McAllister," he said, showing no surprise at the reveal. "It's a shame you had to shave your mustache for this gig."

Red John glared back at him, frowning.

Jane smiled weakly, then staggered.

Lisbon rushed to him. She slipped under his restraints to support him, tucking herself under his injured arm. She took the gun from him before he could drop it. "He was shot, Cho. He needs an ambulance."

"One is on the way," Cho assured her briskly.

Lisbon pulled some cutting pliers from her pocket and worked her way through his zip ties. Freed, Jane leaned into her, reassuring himself with her closeness.

"This isn't over, Patrick," McAllister spit out.

Jane's voice was quiet, but steady. "We know who you are, and we know about the association of dirty cops. We will weed out anyone who could help you. You will rot in prison, and then you will die alone."

Red John sneered. "This isn't their fight. This isn't how you wanted it to end."

Jane turned his face away and smiled gently at Lisbon. "I have better things to do with my time."

Red John's frown deepened.

Cho sighed and pulled McAllister away while reciting his Miranda rights. The FBI agents followed him towards the chairs where Panzer was being extricated.

"We had a protection detail on you, Mr Panzer. You disappeared from the gas station. How did you end up here?" Agent Darcy's voice floated to them.

"They must have siphoned my gas tank, then put up signs at the station to pay inside so they could snatch me. You can't trust anyone anymore," Panzer said indignantly. "Dragged away, stuffed into a small trunk, then tied up here for hours while they played out this farce!" He stood up, rubbing at his wrists. He glared at Jane and stabbed a finger in his direction. "I'm afraid you'll be hearing from my lawyer, Mr. Jane." He tugged at his suit.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Jane called, his face clouding. Lisbon helped him move closer. "You can't let him go, he's the San Joaquin Killer."

Panzer came closer to meet him, the agents not even trying to detain him. "Just like that's 'Red John', I suppose." He scoffed. "So desperate, you're seeing ghosts." He looked at McAllister with disgust. Cho had moved on to coordinate with other agents, leaving McAllister with an FBI agent. "Red John was careful, precise. He never left a shred of evidence. This whole debacle was sloppy." He looked back to Jane. "What exactly was your plan? Torture me? Plant evidence in my apartment while I was held against my will? I'm not sure why you're convinced I'm this killer. It reeks of desperation. Sloppy!"

McAllister growled low in his throat.

Panzer turned and advanced on him, feeling bold. "Did Patrick hire you? Trying to scare me into a confession? These theatrics didn't frighten me."

"Patrick," McAllister drawled, staring impassively at Panzer. "It seems I have one last favor for you."

Panzer looked at him dumbly. Red John lunged, his hands unshackled and flashing with steel. He efficiently slashed at Panzer's throat. Before his victim had time to collapse, he turned to lash out at Jane and Lisbon.

Jane tried to pull back, but he couldn't seem to move. Time slowed.

Three gunshots rang out in quick succession.

Red John fell.

There were shouts from the other agents. Lisbon maintained coverage on him, her gun outstretched. She had blood spatter on her face.

Cho arrested the agent who had freed Red John. Darcy looked down at the dead bodies, one slack eyed and one without a face. She sighed. "Do we have an ETA on the M.E.?" she called out.

"Fifteen minutes," someone called back.

"I have a lot of questions for you, Mr. Jane," she said tersely before joining the others. "Get yourself checked out first."

Jane felt cold looking down at what had once been Thomas McAllister, the killer of his family. Lisbon had angled her shots upwards after the first shot was deflected by a bulletproof vest.

"It's over," he stated quietly. Lisbon was still supporting him, but had shifted and tensed to fire the gun. He could feel the cooling blood trickle down his own face as he studied her profile. "It's done," he told her.

Lisbon relaxed in turns, lowered her gun and turned to search his face. "It's really over?" she asked, in quiet shock. Jane nodded. She turned fully into his embrace.

No one bothered them until the ambulance arrived.

X

"Still can't believe we all walked away from that," Rigsby chuckled. "Darcy was spitting mad."

"Burden of proof," Jane stated, passing his plate back to him with a large slab of prime rib on it. "We may have planned for the eventuality, but they couldn't prove we weren't there under duress."

"Three men died," Lisbon added grumpily. "Definitely duress."

"Yeah, but… McAllister. You can't prove he was Red John."

"I'm not sure I want to. It's fitting that his legacy will always be as a mere minion." Jane grinned. "And now the FBI will be too busy tracking down a network of dirty cops to keep hounding us. Well, not for too long anyway."

"Thanks for having our backs," Lisbon added.

"Still don't think it was a good idea to leave Red John to an unknown agent," Cho stated.

"Every plan has some risk," Jane said gently. "We were ready."

Cho shook his head, unconvinced.

"I'm glad we could all be there, in the end." ventured Van Pelt.

Jane nodded at her in affirmation.

"Good old fashioned police raid to save the day," declared Rigsby cheerfully.

"And GPS trackers," Cho intoned.

"And GPS trackers," he conceded.

"And luring FBI agents to witness shady murderous showdowns."

"It was the plan. Gotta work the Jane plan," Rigsby defended.

Van Pelt raised her glass. "To the team," she toasted.

"The team," the others echoed, drinking their various beverages with her. They filled their plates from the generous spread laid out on Lisbon's table and started eating.

"So... until the CBI is up and running again —" started Van Pelt.

"If," Cho interrupted.

"Director Bertram, part of Red John's network," Rigsby chimed in. "That's huge."

"Anyway… what's next?" Van Pelt inquired.

Jane smiled at Lisbon and set down his fork to slide his hand under hers.

Van Pelt gasped.

Rigsby, too busy eating to notice the gesture, looked at her in puzzlement. "What? What's going on?"

"They're engaged," said Cho, then took another bite of steak.

Rigsby whipped his head back and raised his eyebrows at the sight of a delicate diamond ring on Lisbon's finger. "Congrats, Boss," he breathed.

"Do you have a date?" Van Pelt tried not to sound too eager.

"Next week."

"I know it's fast," Lisbon added quickly. "But—"

"We get it, Boss," Van Pelt said gently. "You're finally free."

Lisbon nodded and smiled, glowing at Jane.

He smiled back before squeezing her hand and turning to his audience. "It will be a small ceremony, but we want you all to be there."

"Okay," said Cho, amidst the other's agreements.

"Are they letting you get away for a honeymoon?"

Jane studied Lisbon, then tapped his lips thoughtfully. "In a couple months," he said. "Darcy wants us to stay close by during the investigation stage. Meanwhile, we've started looking for a house." Jane started rubbing circles on her hand with his thumb. "Three bedroom, two bath, gated community in North Sac. Room for a dog, two point three kids, lots of manicured trails and gardens." The others were forgotten as Jane described their dream.

Van Pelt looked between them. "Wait. Is Boss pregnant?"

Rigsby choked on his wine in shock.

Lisbon scowled. "Stop reading me!"

Jane grinned. "That's a yes."

Lisbon snatched her hand away from his grasp. "Stupid mentalist tricks," she muttered, then snapped, "I wanted to tell you properly."

Rigsby was still coughing. Cho leaned towards him. "You okay, man?" Rigsby nodded and Cho turned his attention to his vibrating phone. "It's Agent Darcy," he declared after checking the display. He stood up to take the call in the other room. "Congrats, guys. Really happy for you."

Van Pelt leaned over to clap Rigsby's back as he continued coughing.

Jane leaned in to whisper in Lisbon's ear. "I'm happy too. Ecstatic."

Lisbon pulled back to study him. "Really?"

"Really." The two lovebirds grinned at each other. "Bun in the oven," Jane murmured happily.

Cho appeared again. "We've been called in for testimony."

"What? Now? All of us?" asked Rigsby, recovered with a fork full of food.

"We have an hour before they come looking for us. You want to push it?"

"I heard they brought in an FBI team from Texas. Badass," Van Pelt observed. She turned to Lisbon. "You want help cleaning up?"

Jane waved her offer away. "No, you go do what you need to to get ready. I'll make up some doggy bags with leftovers. You can pick it up later," he said pointedly to Rigsby who had started stuffing food in his mouth.

Rigsby wiped his mouth with his napkin and swallowed. "Thanks, guys. And congrats!"

Within minutes Jane and Lisbon were left alone in their condo. Lisbon started to clear away the plates.

Jane moved to intercept her. "Oh no you don't," he exclaimed as he took the plates from her and set them aside, wincing slightly.

"You're not going to be one of those guys who thinks a pregnant woman can't do anything?" she asked, her voice high in disbelief. "You are hardly at full capacity with that arm."

He shook his head and moved closer, invading her space with an impish smile. "Nothing so foolish. I was thinking of more important things."

"We're on the clock here, Jane, we gotta get this food cleaned up at least."

"No. No clocks. We have time." He pulled her close and kissed her soundly. After a moment he pulled away, stepping back while holding her hand. He studied her midsection in wonder. "You really are?" he asked.

"I am."

Laughter bubbled out of them and Lisbon pulled him back in close for a hug. With all the uncertainty surrounding their jobs, she had realized with some surprise that it didn't bother her so much. Jane was the bridge that made work more fulfilling, and life more enjoyable. He had truly gotten under her skin and made his way into her heart. She couldn't be happier. And she knew, as he stroked her back and whispered sweet nothings into her ear, that he was finally at peace.

She couldn't wait to see what life would bring them. She knew they could weather anything.

Together.