AN: Thank you for following this story until the end - I hope the epilogue lives up to expectations. And stay on the lookout for the sequel! I'm not sure when I'll get around to writing it, but I'm already plotting away and very excited about it :)

Thanks also for the great response to my newest oneshot, Lend Thy Light. I'm glad you guys enjoyed it.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.

Bring on the wonder
Bring on the song
I pushed you down deep in my soul for too long

The next day, Lisbon braces herself when walking over the threshold of her condo, expecting to see Red John's bloody mark or other evidence of the events that had transpired two nights ago. What she finds instead is a fresh coat of paint on the wall in her living room, still glistening and smelling as though it's just been put up. Jane hovers a few inches away, his hands extended toward her to catch her if she falls.

She reaches out to squeeze his hand, hoping to reassure him.

He squeezes back and guides her over to the couch.

Before she sits down, he moves the cushions to provide more support for her back. Then he offers both his hands to her, and she grabs his forearms to steady herself as she sits down. She tries not to notice the way her muscles shake.

At that moment, the rest of the team comes in, all of them laden with grocery bags. They head to the kitchen, where Lisbon can hear them bustling around and attempting to put their purchases in the proper locations.

Lisbon closes her eyes, feeling slightly nauseous.

Even walking from the car to her couch is exhausting.

Jane's hand grabs at the ponytail holder on her wrist, and he gathers her hair and pulls it through the hairpiece. She looks up at him, wondering how he knew she wanted her hair out of her face but couldn't find the energy to do anything about it herself.

He smiles at her. "Pain meds?" he asks.

"Please," she says, closing her eyes again and leaning back onto the cushions. He brushes a kiss to her forehead and heads to the kitchen.

He returns a minute later with a pill and a glass of water. She downs both.

He holds her gaze, his hand coming up to brush her cheek. "You okay here for a while?" he asks.

Lisbon nods. She knows he wants to return to Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt to discuss their next options. She wishes she felt up to joining them, but she can barely keep her eyes open.

"I'm fine," she says, and she manages to raise her arm enough to grab his bicep. She pulls slightly, wanting him near, and he moves toward her willingly.

He kisses her. "I'll be in the kitchen," he says as he pulls away. "Call if you need anything."

His sea green gaze lingers on her for another second, and suddenly she is lost in his eyes. She is pulled under and remembers no more.

She wakes up a few hours later, feeling hazy and disoriented.

"Everybody lies, Wilson," says a snarky voice, and a soft chuckle sounds beside her that Lisbon immediately identifies as Charlotte's.

Lisbon opens her eyes.

Charlotte is indeed sitting next to her, wrapped up in a throw blanket. Lisbon's eyes flash to the television, where an old episode of House is currently playing. When Charlotte notices that Lisbon is awake, she grabs the remote and turns down the volume.

"We already had dinner," says Charlotte softly. "Do you want me to get you something?"

Lisbon shakes her head weakly. "Not just yet," she says. She can hear low voices coming from the kitchen. Cho is currently speaking, and though she can't make out his exact words, she gathers from his tone that the subject is anything but bright.

"They've been talking for a while," Charlotte continues. "You know, trying to figure out what we should do."

Lisbon nods. "It might not be safe for us here in the long run," she says. "We don't know how many of them are still out there."

Charlotte gives her a grim look. "Where would we go if not here?" she asks.

"I don't know," says Lisbon honestly. "Your father might have some connections, but…I don't know."

They are silent for a while, then Charlotte speaks again. "When you were in the hospital," she says slowly, choosing her words carefully, "Dad talked to me about you. He wanted to make sure I was okay with…with you becoming a member of the family."

Lisbon holds her breath, suddenly very anxious.

"I told him I thought you already were," says Charlotte as though this is the most obvious thing in the world, and Lisbon inhales deeply. They lock eyes, and Charlotte smiles. "You didn't just save me—you've been saving my dad over and over again from the day you guys met. I can tell by the way he looks at you. And if that's not family, I don't know what is." She pauses, collecting herself. "I'd love if you were part of my family, and…and I'd be honored to be a part of yours."

Lisbon doesn't know what to say, and her eyes mist over as she looks at the girl who she's come to view as a daughter. So instead of speaking, she reaches over to pull Charlotte close, ignoring the slight pang she feels in her chest from the abrupt movement. Charlotte leans into her and tosses the blanket over both their legs. When Lisbon wraps an arm around her, Charlotte says, "I told him I had to be there when he picks out the ring. I have a feeling he will lean toward ostentatious, which I'm guessing is the farthest thing from what you want."

Lisbon feels like her heart is beating double-time in her chest, reminding her how alive she is with every thump. She smiles and listens as Charlotte's breathing becomes more even, and fifteen minutes later the teenager is asleep. Lisbon's eyelids begin to droop, and she leans her cheek against the top of Charlotte's head as she herself begins to doze.

A half hour later, Jane steps into the living room to check on Lisbon and finds them like this, the television still on in the background. His insides twist not unpleasantly, and he bends over them to adjust the throw blanket on their legs.

He drops a kiss on the foreheads of both his girls and heads back to the kitchen.

Lisbon's eyes flash open.

The only light in her bedroom comes from the alarm clock, which reads 1:23 AM in bright red.

She turns to her other side and is immediately face to face with Jane's green gaze.

"You were watching me sleep," she says accusingly, her voice still low with exhaustion.

He shrugs. "A couple days ago I thought I'd never see you again," he says. "Ever since, it's been difficult for me to stop staring."

She smiles at him through the darkness. "We're going to be okay, Jane."

He brings her fingertips to his lips in response.

"What did you and the team decide?"

Instead of answering right away, he lifts her t-shirt. His fingers come to rest on the bandage just underneath her right breast where the chest tube had been. She is suddenly very aware of the fact that she is not wearing a bra, and she tries to slow her heart rate, knowing Jane will have felt it increase.

After a few minutes, he finally speaks.

"None of us think it's safe for you and Charlotte to stay in town," he says. "Especially given your condition. As soon as you feel up for traveling, I want us to go into hiding."

Lisbon tenses. "You think it's that serious?"

He sighs. "Look at it this way. How likely is it that the leader of the cult would have been directly involved in your kidnapping? Isn't it more likely that whoever is in charge had his minions do the dirty work? They were stupid enough to get themselves on camera torturing you—there's got to be someone higher up involved who wanted them to take the blame."

She wants to argue, but his logic is sound.

"Partridge, Bertram, McAllister, Haffner, or Kristina were not capable of leading a group that influential. Hell, all of them together probably couldn't have done it. Someone else, someone higher up, is orchestrating this. I have to get you and Charlotte out of Sacramento before we learn what they're capable of."

"Where will we go?"

"I still have some carnie connections," Jane says darkly. "I'm reaching out to people. I should know soon."

"Will Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt come with?"

"They're staying over here for now, but I don't know if they'll accompany us when we leave. The more people we need to hide, the more difficult it becomes—we'd be increasingly likely to be recognized. But they'd provide us with more security. I don't know. I still need to think it over. And," he adds, "of course I want your opinion on the matter. Whatever we decide, it will be a team decision."

She feels her skin begin to overheat, and she is suddenly aware that her t-shirt is soaked with sweat. Almost as though Jane has read her thoughts, he pulls the comforter away from her body, and she welcomes the cooler air.

"We're going to be okay," she says again. She wonders if she actually believes this.

She feels Jane nod.

They are silent for a few minutes, and Lisbon's mind whirls, trying to process the events of the past few days.

As she looks at Jane, her eyes roving over him, something falls into place.

For a long time, Lisbon has allowed her mind to guide her, reasoning and rationalizing her way through every decision. And now, all of the sudden, she feels as though her soul—and her heart—have finally caught up.

The atmosphere shifts in the darkened room, and Lisbon begins to realize that her heart and her soul belong to the man beside her. And from the look in his eyes, the way he touches her bare skin, she thinks he must feel similarly about her.

"You love me?" she whispers.

He smiles. "I'd prove it to you now," he says, "but I'm afraid your lung would give out on us."

Her skin heats again at the deliberate innuendo, but she can't help but smile back.

"In that case, I'll try to heal quickly."

He chuckles. "I'd appreciate that. For a number of reasons."

Suddenly, Jane is serious, the smile gone from his face. He leans over and helps her remove the sweaty shirt, which has begun to stick to the wounds on her back rather painfully. The cool air is soothing, but Lisbon is suddenly self-conscious of her appearance, acutely aware of the damage—the mutilation—to her skin.

Lisbon watches, entranced, as Jane ducks his head to kiss first the bandage under her breast and then the gauze over her shoulder.

As he pulls back, their eyes lock. In his gaze, there is no pity, only something she can best describe as adoration, and it hits her all over again that Jane truly does love her. All of her.

Even the parts she thinks are damaged.

"I love you," she says, the words just above a whisper.

She can't remember ever seeing the world with such clarity before.

And though she can't explain it, she knows wholeheartedly that whatever challenges await in their future, they will be able to overcome them.

"I love you," she says again, this time stronger and with more force. A blinding smile spreads across his face.

They're going to be okay.

She is sure of it.