So here it is... the long ( and I mean LONG ) awaited final chapter of Red Sky in the Morning. I know, I've been at it for the best part of a year, but seriously. This is it. It is finished, and there is nothing else to say about it. I would like to thank all the wonderful people who read, reviewed and favourited this story, and I would like them all to know that it means a lot to me. You've all been very kind to me, and I hope that you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks again...

-Sevendayslater x x

I was picked up from the hospital a few days later, once all the doctors had ran their tests, and once the nurses had cooed over Jane sufficiently. We packed up my duffel bag which Van Pelt had picked up from my apartment for me, and I was loaded into the rickety car which Jane seemed to love so much. Despite my dislike for his driving, I knew that it was a worse idea for me to drive, in my weakened and fairly tired state, so I curled up in the passenger's seat and let him take the lead.

However, as we rounded a corner on two wheels, I was beginning to re-evaluate my decision.

Arriving at my apartment in probably record time, I informed him that I had never seen someone live through driving like that and in future, no matter what condition I was in; conscious or not, I was going to be the one in the driver's seat. Jane, as usual, just smiled and bowed, before picking up my duffel bag and carrying it as he led me into my apartment like some sort of overdressed bellboy.

It was clean, if a little dusty, when I arrived. I must have left the window open before I left for work, on the day of my injury, because it was very cold, and there were a couple of spiders and other crawlies which had gained access through the open slit. I immediately rushed to shut it. There was something about open windows which had always freaked me out... and it was nothing to do with the arachnids and moths. Open windows were access for serial killers and cold air: two of my least favourite things. Jane dropped my duffel bag onto my couch and turned around, his arms crossed as he leaned languidly against the armrest. After closing the window, I turned around to see him doing so, and narrowed my eyes.

"What?" I asked, as I realised that he was watching me with a smug smirk planted on his lips. Did I have something on my face? "What's wrong now?" He pushed himself off of the armrest, still smiling, and strolled over to me in his usual self-important way.

"Nothing." He informed me, placing his hands on both of my shoulders, making me feel frighteningly and irrationally safe. "Everything is perfect." Cocking his head to the side, he stared at me. "Red John is gone. You're okay. I'm okay. We're pursuing a line of romanticism which could someday soon end up with sex. Everything's pretty good with me." His shockingly blue eyes twinkled playfully in the crisp morning light from the window, and I rolled my eyes obviously, in the way which I always did, letting my hands move up to his waist, and allowing him to hold me against his chest.

It felt so normal, that it felt surreal.

He blessed my right temple with a soft, tender kiss, which brushed my skin with such comforting warmth that I shuddered. I knew now why he hadn't moved on me before: he hadn't kept away because he didn't know about my attraction towards him. He knew, and he'd known that for a while now. The only thing that had been standing between him and something resembling happiness was Red John. But now Red John was gone, and the metaphorical traffic jam between our two junctions had cleared, and both of our lights were green.

Holding tightly to the sides of his suit jacket, I turned my head to connect with those mesmerising cerulean eyes, my face tipped upwards towards his. For once, I didn't care about how vulnerable our body language made me. There was a hotness brewing inside of my belly that I hadn't felt in a long time... if ever. I'd imagined this moment – embarrassingly, dozens of times - but never in a million years could I expect how incredibly deep his eyes were, or how hard I had to work in an effort to stop my knees giving out from underneath my body. They were hypnotising and full of different colour, the more I stared at him.

And for the first time in the air between us, there were no restrictions or regulations; there were no snarky or sarcastic comments flying in the space, merely the heat and the desire and the spark that we had felt since day one, but never had the opportunity or the urge to act upon. I couldn't help but to tell him that I loved him, and I wasn't surprised that he just smiled and told me that he knew.

Of course he did.

The hands on my shoulders were migrating, slowly, down to my hips where they stayed, completely still and steady, as his eyes fluttered closed and he sucked in a deep breath, leaning over to rest his forehead on mine. Almost smiling, I pushed my hips ever so slightly towards him, causing him to prematurely exhale through his nose, and for a deep throaty groan to follow it out. For once, I was not the one forcing my body to control itself. Trying my best not to smile, not because the situation was funny but because it was ironic, I slipped my hands around the flaps of his suit jacket and slid them around his torso so I was able to press my chest up against his.

I could feel his muscles tense as he tried not to buck his hips in my direction. Patrick Jane was losing control, and I caused his complete loss of concentration. Feeling oddly vindicated, I backed away from him, and caught his eyes again, which had just reopened, even clearer and deeper than before. Stifling another smile, I walked away from him, over to my bedroom door, which I opened and slipped inside, leaving it slightly ajar. I could hear him pause by his silence, then the footsteps as he slowly followed me, his curiosity and his desire overpowering his sense of boundaries. As usual.

My body was now alert, and seeking immediate attention, and I pulled my shirt over my head, and managed to slip off my pants before the door swung almost soundlessly open, revealing an almost hungry looking Jane. Unreservedly, I grinned at him, then spread my arms and allowed myself to fall backwards onto my mattress, which gave me a cushioned reception. The ceiling was all I could see, and it was blank and white. It had been inspiration for many daydreams and fantasies, where Jane's body was on top of mine, pounding me into the mattress.

I wasn't surprised when the bed dipped slightly, and that same face looked down at me, obscuring the boring white plaster, and I wasn't surprised when he moved down to kiss me, but I was surprised when I felt his lips touch mine and it was real. However much I know that this is reality, I still keep thinking that this is just another fantasy because quite frankly, I can't remember a time when I had felt so happy.

His hands planted themselves on either side of my belly button, and I made absolutely no attempt to move them, instead squirming under his touch. I let him take control, allowing his tongue to discover my mouth from every angle before I arched my back away from the bed, telling him that I needed him to do more. Jane was more than happy to oblige, and he moved his hands up to rest on my breasts, hooking his fingers in the bottom of my sports bra.

"Always about practicality, aren't you Lisbon?" He mumbled teasingly into my mouth, and I rolled my eyes at the ceiling, knowing that from this angle, he couldn't see me do so, but also knowing that it didn't matter. Jane always saw.

"Yes I am." I groaned, allowing the silly smile that he had brought to my face stay there. "But who cares about looking when you can touch?" As if this was permission, Jane took it as his cue to slip his hands underneath the bra, pulling it up over my breasts, so he had complete access. Dipping his head, he massaged my left breast gently with one of his hands, treating my right one to the sensational feeling of his lips and his tongue. I gasped as his teeth grazed lightly over the hardened nub before circling it with his incredibly hot tongue, and he pulled his head away from my chest to look me in the eye. One of his eyebrows was raised, and I frowned at him, trying to stop my body shaking in anticipation as I lay at his fingertips.

"What?" I asked, for the second time since we had entered the apartment, though this time my tone was decidedly more playful.

"You're very..." He ran his hand from my breast down my side, and rubbed my hip in slow, hard strokes. Shuddering despite knowing that he was mocking my reactions, I let my head fall back onto the pillow. "Responsive." He finished, burying his face in my neck and once more using that beautifully scorching tongue to toy with my sensitive skin without leaving a mark.

Responsive? Was he Jane mocking, or was he really making fun of me? I tried not to react, though the fire died down momentarily at my indecision and insecurity. Jane – obviously – noticed, and pulled away once more to look me in the eye.

"It's not a bad thing." Kissing me tenderly on the cheek, he whispered to me in my ear, his lips brushing and his breath tingling. I could feel a small smile come onto Jane's face. "No really, I quite like it." I giggled at his... Janeness. Another kiss and I was arching my back again, the fire relighting, possibly brighter and more heated than before.

His hands were everywhere, and in the right places. Fluttering up and down my sides in a way which he knew were tickly but not quite tickly enough to make me laugh, just to make me squirm. Cupping my butt, he lifted me slightly, throwing me off balance, and once more reducing my body to putty at his fingertips. God it was great to make out with a psychic. Because no matter how much he denied it, there was no way that he could know things like that about me. Like that I secretly would like to be underneath him.

Finding my hands, after lying there limply for a few minutes as he worked his magic on my body, I reached down and began to unbutton his pants, knowing that I needed him now. We had played long enough. Since he had discarded his jacket and waistcoat before even arriving at my apartment, and had left them in the car due to the warmness of the journey, Jane only needed one hand to unbutton his shirt, and shake it off his shoulders, not once taking his eyes from mine. Allowing him to undress himself, I did a sit-up, and pulled my sports bra over my head, flinging it into a corner. I wouldn't need it for a while.

When I returned my attention back to Jane, he was completely naked and staring at me like I was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And God it felt good to be stared at like you're the most beautiful thing in the world, because I have never been the girl who was the most beautiful in the room. I was the girl who got things done and kicked ass and had a badge which would let me almost anywhere in California. Heads have never really turned when I walked into a room.

But in that moment, I felt more beautiful than any other woman I had ever met because he wasn't over at their apartments, touching their skin and kissing their lips, he was here with me.

Pulling him down to me by a strong grip on his shoulders, I met his lips again, not being able to resist the intimacy. I could feel his excitement, pressed up very obviously against my thigh, and I squirmed and adjusted the position of my hips until we were aligned. The only thing that stood in our way now was my panties, which he hooked his fingers in, and started to tug down across my ass, exposing the flesh and the dark hair which they had obscured.

Placing another kiss on my lips, this time with his mouth closed, he waited for me to raise my backside off the covers, so he could wiggle off the only remaining item of clothing with more ease. I did so, enjoying how hot his bare skin felt against mine. Wanting and needing more contact, I thrust up my hips against him, before kicking the panties off my foot where they had come to rest, and wrapping my leg tightly around him, not allowing my body to fall back against the mattress. There was no space between us anymore. Nothing to hold us back.

He let his hand roam back down to the back of my thigh then palpated the flesh of my bottom, grinding his hips in a way which made him moan and the breath catch in my throat. We found our rhythm, where our hips moved, and our bodies tensed, and we moaned and groaned in complementary time with one another, as if our minds were inextricably linked, and although he wasn't inside of me, I felt like we were already part of something so intensely intimate that I think a tear leaked out of the corner of my eye.

And then he pushed himself so deep inside of me that I felt like I was going to scream, but I held myself back, though my breath came in uncontrollable pants, and my chest heaved against his as we moved, if possible, closer, and although we were only just getting started I felt myself nearing the peak of what I could only describe as heaven. For what felt like eternity and what felt like seconds, we rocked and cradled one another, fitting into each other's bodies like they were designed that way.

I was in sensory overload, with the musky smell of sweat and the feel of slick skin, moving across mine and slipping and sliding and pleasuring my nerves more and more, while I could feel his mouth full of coffee tasting warmth and all I could hear was my own voice, as if from a distance, whimpering and whining desperately in a way which was so not me, and when he pulled away, ready to drive into me that time that he knew would push me over the edge, all I could see was those bright, bright cerulean eyes.

When he drove into me and I tried not to make a noise, my body convulsing with overloading pleasure, he drove harder. I tried to keep silent, but his voice in my ear, telling me to scream, was overpowering, and I felt that there was no choice left for me than to do as he told.

The moment that I let him hear my pleasure, that I opened my mouth and let my orgasm pour out in sound waves, was the most glorious release that I had ever felt.

It released him as well, and I felt him pouring himself into me and it was like I had felt before. It wasn't like in the romance novels where I had never had a decent lover, and that I hadn't felt anything like a man in me before, but the truth was that it felt like most sex that I had participated in before... only better.

With a grunt and a drawn out moan which only kept me held on longer, he slowed his body to rest, huffing into my neck while trying to recuperate. I stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily and trying to do the exact same thing.

Eventually, he pulled himself from me, exposing me again to the cold air of the space which his body had left. Shivering, I felt much better when I felt the same body which had just left me pulling me to his side, even though I don't think either of us could handle the heat which we were generating together. It was the intimacy that we were looking for, and we found it.

Although it felt terribly clichéd and awfully silly, I let a stupidly moronic grin onto my face, and when I looked up at his face, I realised that he had one very similar on his own face.

"I've been thinking of moving house." He said, abruptly, and I raised my eyebrows, turning my attention to his chest, which was directly in front of me in our odd but strangely comfortable position. Tapping my fingers against his breastbone and flattening out my palm to feel the heartbeat that was thumping loudly beneath it, I rested my forehead against him, listening intently as his voice rumbled through his chest once again. "I just think that... now Red John is gone, I don't really want to be there anymore." He sighed, and his arm flopped over my shoulder so his fingers rested on my hip again. "I think that it's time for a change."

"Well if you need somewhere to stay..." I said, before I could stop myself, and for once, I wasn't second guessing myself. I wasn't offering him an extra room, or life on the couch, and I wasn't just offering for him to move in with me because we had just had some seriously mind blowing sex. I honestly meant what I said... for once.

I sensed his surprise by the moment of shock where he held his breath, but then he exhaled heavily, and I felt my hair move as it was disturbed from its place splayed across the white sheets.

"You don't think that it's a little soon?" There was no hesitance in his voice, merely surprise. He had no reservations, and I knew that. He was making sure that I wasn't making my choice based on the aforementioned awesome sex.

"A little soon?" I laughed a little about the irony of his statement. "You can read my mind, for Chrissakes!" I couldn't see him from the angle we were at, but I knew that he was smiling. I could just tell.

Jane lifted his head, and bent his neck so his lips grazed against my ear, and sure enough, they were definitely shaped into a smile.

"Let me tell you a secret, dear Teresa..." He said, and I resisted the urge to giggle and squirm against his chest, wondering what he was going to say. "I can't actually read your mind." I smirked into his chest.

Sure you can't.