AN: Here it is – the end! This is short, but I've packed enough fluff in it to choke the proverbial horse. Like…fluffy fluff.

A massive thank you to everyone who stuck with me start to finish, and to everyone who reviewed. It's been fun…maybe we'll do it again sometime!

Disclaimer: Patrick Jane is owned by The Powers That Be, of which I am not one. Sadness.

Burnt Offerings

Epilogue

Six months after they had officially began their relationship, Teresa had come to him one night with tears in her eyes and a rapidly thudding heartbeat.

"What?" he'd asked, taking her cold hands. "What happened?"

He would never forget the look on her face when she'd told him. "I'm pregnant," she breathed.

There had been a few moments of utter shock. Thoughts spiraled rapidly through his mind, thoughts like so that wasn't the flu, then, or so much for precautions, and even forty-three is a little old to be a father again, don't you think?

Overwhelmingly, however, there was joy.

"You're sure?" he asked.

She nodded, looking intently at him. "I went to the doctor this morning."

He frowned. "You told me you were going shopping for new running shoes."

She shrugged helplessly. "I wanted to know for certain before I told you."

Abruptly, he pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair. She hugged him back, fingers digging into his back, and he knew she was still more than a little unsure about her news. "This is a good thing," he whispered. "The very best thing."

She pulled back, eyes large. "Do you mean it?"

Carefully, reverently, he rested one hand on her lower abdomen. "I mean it."

That night in bed, he brought up the subject of marriage for the first time. In fact, he told her categorically that before their child was born, he wanted matching rings on their hands.

She had resisted a little at first, calling him old fashioned, but learned the next day that it was impossible to say no to Patrick Jane wielding a diamond while down on one knee.

And so they had been married in a very simple, very small ceremony, right on the beach.

Strange thought – he had been married to Angela for less time than he had spent hunting down her killer. He now had the opportunity to be married to Teresa for the next thirty or forty years. Something seemed almost off about it, but he supposed it was the guilt speaking again.

Even though he was happy, happier than he had been in a decade, he still dealt with some of the same demons. He had his dark days, times when all he wanted to do was brood.

Teresa understood, still working through some of her own problems. They would sit together, fingers laced, content in the knowledge that someone would be there waiting when they came through the other side.

It made their relationship stronger.

Seven months after their wedding, he held his son for the first time, not bothering to hide his tears.

Teresa watched them both with moisture pooling in her own eyes, her ring glittering in the overhead lights of the delivery room.

"Are you going to let me hold him at all?" she asked, lips turning up in a very affectionate smile.

He leaned his face as close as he could get to his son. "Tell Mommy that Daddy is busy figuring out how best to spoil you."

The newborn cracked his eyes enough to peer at his father. Deciding that sleep required more of his attention, he closed his lids once more, making a contented noise and curling into the warm arms that held him.

He would never know how many dark and difficult roads his parents had travelled to make it to this one moment, how many mountains they had climbed, with and without the other.

All he knew was that he was full, he was sleepy, and he was loved.

And really, what else was there?