Just imagine.

We stand at the edge of the show that kept us all together. Ten minutes remain. Jane went on television as a psychic again to lure out Lazarus and it worked. The killer is caught and all is well with the world. Jane and Lisbon are married. We skip ahead a year. Jane is back in his old house to say his last goodbyes to the family he leaves behind as he readies himself for a new life. He scrubs out what still can be from the smiley face that ever haunted him, long after he did what he could and promised to do to the man who painted it there.

"You continue to surprise me."

The voice at the chamber door is unmistakable. Jane turns to face Him.

"Sorry it's been so long. I didn't believe it until I saw it. You did move on, Patrick. I feared for a good long while you never could."

So they meet, the tiger and the lamb, for the third and last time. Jane accepts the truth as it is, having long suspected it, yet let himself believe otherwise so as not to rob himself of the priveledge of moving forward. Now the grudges of past that would've poisoned their meeting anytime earlier isn't there anymore. There is no forgiveness. That could never be. But there is the health of distance.

They talk. Confirm where they're at and where they're going, answer any questions the other might have, yet let enough remain unsaid that they don't reawaken the ghosts of the past.

Accepting the philosophy of the tiger, finally they shake hands, not as friends, not as foes, not comrades, simply as equals.

The credits run.