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This was an idea I had, partially inspired by Ebony10's "Closer" (.net/s/5691843/1/Closer) story.

I simply miss having Red John around, and think he needs to make an appearance soon, or this wonderful series might lose people to... well, to boredom =[

Anywho, I'm not really sure where this is going, but wanted to give it a try. Kind of in Jane's POV...

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, just a little obsessed with Patrick, but who can blame a girl?

Constructive criticism is GREATLY appreciated, and I would LOVE to hear more than comments consisting of "Cool" or "This is good." I'm a decent writer, slightly a perfectionist, so you're more than welcome to tell me what I'm doing wrong. =]

Oh yeah, and please ENJOY!

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Chapter 1

"Rust... mildew... crumbling Sheetrock..." Patrick Jane observed his surroundings without opening his eyes. "Grease... sweat... earth..." each scent attacked his nose as he lay face-down on the concrete floor, sand and small shards of glass digging into his cheek. "Dust... stale water... rotting wood... blood." His eyes flew open when his brain recognized that smell. He stared at a blank, unfinished wall, black mold running up from the floor. Before moving, he checked himself mentally. "Pain on my left ear from that punch... elbows banged up from the fences... ankle twisted from being pushed through the window... Window." He felt the glass stick to his cheek as he lifted his head. Blood and droplets of sweat caked his face with dirt. He was positioned with his feet toward the window, head furthest away, his body parallel with the side wall. The small room was lit only by sunlight pouring through the freshly shattered window, eight feet up the wall. A golden stream caught millions of dust particles. He moved his head to the right, scraping his chin on the rough floor. There were no doors or other windows on any of the walls. "The window's the only way in or out of here." His heart skipped when his eyes fell on the back of a petite form, unmoving and covered in glass.

"Teresa!" he breathed out, nearly a growl. He cleared his throat as the events of the last ten minutes flooded his mind. "Red John... we all followed up a lead... found him in an abandoned house, empty neighborhood... I followed him in... Teresa tried to stop me... Cho and Rigsby calling for back-up... chase... Teresa behind me... followed him outside, over a fence... over another fence, to an old shed. I caught up... my fist found his jaw... Teresa screaming my name... his fist found my ear... I saw Teresa pull out her gun, run to Red John. He swung, she fell, disappeared... I swung, he pushed, I lost my balance... pain..."

He stared at the back of Lisbon's head. "Teresa." He took in a ragged breath, and let out an unsteady sigh. He moved his arms underneath him, ignoring the flashes of pain as glass dug into his palms. He pulled his knees under himself and slowly sat up, fighting nausea as his ears rang.

"Teresa," he called to her, leaning down and crawling about four feet to reach her. She had landed on her left side, one arm underneath her, the other out in front of her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently shook her. Bending his head down and holding his breath, he held his left ear to her lips. "Please, oh, please..." He felt the smallest hint of her breath on his cheek, and immediatly the tension in his body released in a heavy sigh as he closed his eyes.

He felt Lisbon stir as he rested his forehead on her shoulder. He heard a faint moan escape her lips. He sat up and studied the side of her face he could see, gently pulling away her hair; one scratch above her right eye, one on her cheek, both looking bad. She let out another breathy moan.

He leaned in and whispered, "Teresa?" He watched her wrinkle her forehead, in both pain and confusion.

"Jane?"

"I'm right here." He gently squeezed her shoulder. He saw her eye lids flutter as she struggled to open them, the sunlight directly falling on her face. He moved his other hand to shade her eyes. She finally forced them open. Jane waited as she lifted her head to look up, and she met his gaze. Though his face was expressionless, he couldn't hide the feelings of worry, relief, frustration, compassion, and apprehension that filled the startling blue of his eyes.

Lisbon frowned. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He continued to look into her face, studying the fresh scratches. He started to bite his bottom lip as he realized how much pain she could be in, but caught himself. "She's not even hinting that it hurts."

"Red John?"

He looked away, up to the window. "Gone."

"Mm." She started to push her self up, and Jane grabbed her arm to help her. He felt her body tense as she tried to move her left arm, the one underneath her. She stopped.

"What's wrong?" His heart began to sink.

"Jane, I think my arm is broken." She rolled over onto her stomach, "Let me try to sit up..." and she pulled her knees underneath her. She managed to push herself up with her one good arm and come to a seated position in front of Jane. He swallowed hard as she studied her arm, finding the fractures. He tried not to wince every time she did as she pressed on the tiny bones in her wrist.

She looked back at the consultant, showing pain only with her eyes. "It's my wrist. I need to get it looked at." He saw her face change as she realized the situation. She looked around the room. "Where are we?"

"We're under ground." He looked around with her at the blank, mold-covered walls. "It's the shed he lead us to. I have a feeling Red John wanted us... wanted me in here."

"So that window is the only way out?" Lisbon nodded at the window.

Jane felt her mentally shrug off his previous words. "Good ol' Lisbon, staying focused on the current situation." He responded to her: "Looks that way."

"Do you have your cell phone? I left mine in the car."

"Mine must have fallen out of my pocket."

Lisbon sighed heavily. "Well, help me up."

Jane pushed himself off the floor and shook off the nausea. He bent down and took Lisbon's good hand, pulling her to her feet.

They both looked up to the glass-less window. A shadow moved in front, blocking out the evening sunlight.