A/N: Okay guys this is a huge chapter, in many ways. I hope you like it.

Whatever you do… Don't forget to READ and REVIEW!!!!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own THE MENTALIST

It was two weeks later and Patrick Jane was still unconscious. However, he was closer to waking up than any other day before. Dr. Crandall was still his neurosurgeon but when the pathology report came back with the results they had expected, Jane was given to oncology. Time was becoming a factor, and they needed him to wake up to discuss his options. If he didn't wake up soon there would be nothing anyone could do.

Teresa Lisbon, sat at her desk staring through the window, at Jane's couch, she couldn't concentrate on anything. Jane had no family but the CBI, so the doctor's kept Lisbon abreast of what was happening. Her phone rang breaking her reverie, it was Jane's oncologist, Dr. Hanh.

"Lisbon…"

"Hello agent Lisbon this is Dr. Hanh, Mr. Jane's oncologist. I have some news for you."

She swallowed hard, her mouth was dry as the Mojave as she asked "What news? "

"Well agent it seems our Mr. Jane has woken up."

She could hear the woman's concern through the phone.

"I'm on my way; I'll be there in two hours."

"Oh agent…." A dial tone was the only response she received.

"Cho get the van, we're all going. Van Pelt, and Rigsby get everyone's away bags and meet me in the parking lot."

Cho almost said 'we don't need the van, there are only 4 of us'. But he kept his mouth shut, no need to remind the boss about Jane.

Lisbon walked into the office of the man that took Minnelli's place, Cole Masterson. Masterson was a good boss but not used to the way the team ran itself, he wanted feedback on everything. He was a damn good looking man as well .His short salt and pepper hair made his blue eyes stand out, he had a warm smile , and a voice that caressed you with its manliness. If he weren't her boss ….

"Sir, I just got news that Jane's waking up. We're going to head up there."

He looked at her over the top of his reading glasses, and said "Lisbon, how long are you going to keep doing this? He's got cancer, and a BRAIN tumor the size of a lime. As sad as it is Patrick Jane, will most likely, never come back to CBI." He winced at her reaction.

"Look I know you guys are a family, Virgil gave me all the gory details, but this will have to be the last time you all go up there in an official vehicle."

Lisbon couldn't speak she was so angry at the words her boss had said. However, she couldn't deny the truth in them.

The team rode in silence, Cho didn't read, Rigsby didn't eat, and Van Pelt didn't surf the web. No one felt like talking and their usual rhythm was off. The sat and stared out the windows at the landscape, each with their own thoughts, Van Pelt prayed, Cho was… Cho, and Rigsby kept torturing himself for not noticing Jane's illness sooner.

Lisbon, was flying down the highway west toward Concord, she was replaying events in her head, times when she might have seen something, a clue. There had to be some evidence prior to Jane's collapse, his tumor is huge. What did I miss? The one thing that she could say might, have been a sign was Jane's headaches, but he never complained, he just lay on the couch with his arm draped over his eyes. Another thought that was very troubling, was that after Jane almost was blown up, and they did the scans of his head, there was nothing wrong on the films. Which suggested to Lisbon that his cancer must be fast growing and aggressive, but, what did she know, she was just a cop.

In Concord, in an ICU room sat a man who had just woken up from a two week nap, his hair was a fine buzz cut , he was covered in wires, tubes and connected to equipment. The thing that was irksome enough to wake him was the tube down his throat, it hurt and he was breathing against the ventilator. He started to panic, he tried to get the tube out himself but his hands were in soft restraints, his anxiety produced a rapid heart rate, his monitor was squealing in alarm as his heart rate kept climbing, the ventilator was beeping its complaint as well. Though to him it seemed ages, his nurse was there in less than five minutes.

Brenda, was surprised to see her patient awake and struggling to rid himself of the tube helping him to breathe. She pushed the button on the wall and called the nurses' station, for help then gave him a dose of ativan that wouldn't knock him out, but it would make him more relaxed. Fortunately, Dr. Crandall anticipated the need for the anxiolytic. She then began to help him by turning the vent way down, she couldn't extubate him without a doctor.

"Mr. Jane, it's okay, you're in the hospital. You have been on a ventilator for some time, I can't remove the tube, your doctor has to." Brenda said in a soothing tone.

The pressure from the air being forced into his lungs lessened and he didn't feel quite as suffocated. He looked at the nurse and nodded his head toward his arm.

"There that's better isn't it, Mr. Jane." She soothed. She saw him gesturing with his head to the restraints. "Do you promise not to pull anything out?" He shook his head earnestly.

"Okay, I'll untie you." Brenda removed the soft restraints and saw the look of gratitude in his eyes.

"You're welcome, Mr. Jane." He shook his head again, and felt his head protest.

"What is it Mr. Jane?" He pointed to himself. "Mr. Jane, Patrick Jane." She said. He shook his head again the pain intensifying, and held his forefinger up like the number one sign. Brenda wasn't new to translating for people on the ventilator and quickly figured out what he wanted.

"Okay then, Patrick."

He smiled and nodded yes.

"Well Patrick, I am going to page your doctors, do you want the TV on?" he shook no, and she walked out.

Now able to relax and take in his surroundings, he looked around the room.

'Definitely a Hospital, probably ICU.' Someone sent him flowers. It seemed, a few someones had.

' What the hell am I doing here?' He tried to think about the last thing he remembered. He remembered he had a headache, it made him sick, they were on their way somewhere…

'Did I get in the car?'

He couldn't remember anything after walking towards the elevator with the team, Lisbon was mad at him for taking so long. He didn't tell her why.

Patrick Jane was not a stupid man, he had already deduced that this had something to do with his headache. He thought about it for a minute…'Must have been the baseball…' The medic had cleared him, but only because Jane kept the blackouts he was having to himself.

'That's it, the concussion was worse than I thought'

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jane knew he was fooling himself. This was much bigger than a migraine, or a concussion. But, he wasn't ready to face whatever it was.

Unfortunately his denial was about to be blown away, by the next person who walked into his room.

Through the haze of the ativan Jane began to notice his head was aching not just the inside, but the outside as well. At first it was just a muffled sort of pain, but as each passing moment went the pain grew sharper, and more intense. He began to sweat,and his brain was on fire. The monitor picked up on his distress, and began beeping faster. Somewhere within the white haze of agony, and his half closed eyes, he saw a shape, two shapes.

One of them said "Good morning Mr. Jane we're glad to see you awake. I'm Dr. Crandall your neurosurgeon, and this is Dr. Hanh your… other doctor."

Dr. Hanh's lovely arching eyebrows met in the middle in concern, from noticing the change in his vitals and the clenched face of her patient. Being an oncologist she recognized the signs of intense pain on Jane's face.

He heard the tiny shape say to the big one "Pete he's in pain, should I give him anything?"

"Yeah, I bet he's in a hell of a lot of pain. It should be all right, but he has to keep the vent just in case.

The tiny shape came closer , he could make out the silhouette of petite woman, that was all, he was in too much pain to open his eyes all the way. The lights were killing him.

The woman shape said softly "Mr. Jane, I can see you are in tremendous pain, and I want to alleviate it some, with morphine. If I do you will have to stay on the vent while you are on it. Do you want the drugs?"

Morphine, somehow that got through, it sent a thrill through him. He longed for the sweet feeling of it. 'You idiot, you can't go down that road again.' He shook his head no, and a look of agony and fear came on him. He pointed furiously at his stomach.

"The pain is making you nauseous. Do you feel like you are going to vomit?"

He gave a barely perceptive nod yes, he was afraid if he moved he would puke.

The big shape said to the little shape "We better extubate him quickly."

A booming voice said "When I tell you to, cough. Understand?" He nodded again.

"Okay this is going to hurt some."

Jane felt a tugging sensation that felt like his throat was being sliced with a Ginsu knife.

"COUGH, NOW."

Just as Crandall pulled the tube out he began vomiting. Hanh had grabbed the emesis basin on the table and stuck it under him. There wasn't much vomit, it was all bile and it burned like a bitch on his tortured throat. He had dry heaves, and each contraction made her head feel as if someone had set off fireworks in there.

The nurse had brought them a cup of ice in anticipation, and Dr. Hanh gave him some. It was heaven on his throat. But did nothing to quell the cannon fire in his brain

He tried to talk, it hurt. Everything hurt, but his headache, his head was a pain that could not be described, it was a living pulsing thing, a monster eating its way out of his skull. Finally, with herculean effort he croaked "Thank you."

"You're welcome, are you sure you don't want some morphine?" she asked kindly.

"No, no opiates." He squawked.

"Okay I understand, we have some non-narcotic drugs for pain we can give you. But you can always change your mind and ask for the narcotics if you need it. On a scale of one to ten one being a little pain to ten being the worst pain you've ever felt."

He said "Ten,"

Jane looked at the big male doctor…Crandall. He had a big envelope with films of some kind inside.

"What's that?"

"This is what we are here about, all of us Mr. Jane. These are pictures of your brain. He walked closer to the bed.

Jane had a sinking feeling, suddenly he didn't want to know. He just wanted to try to sleep through his migraine.

"There is a large tumor on your left temporal lobe, unfortunately it is quite aggressive, and malignant."

Mentally Jane had his fingers in his ears singing Jingle Bells, he didn't want to hear any more. He felt a warm soft touch on his arm. It was the woman doctor. It broke him, that touch and the tears began sneaking out of his eyes and running down his face.

"Mr. Jane" she said softly.

"Patrick" he said.

"Patrick, don't jump to any conclusions we have a plan that we think will knock this cancer out. "

He was embarrassed by his unseemly display of emotion, wiped his tears away ignoring the urge to puke from the way it drove a spike through his head .

"Okay, tell me."

Well , Mr. erm Patrick, I need to go in and remove as much of the tumor as possible, it can be a little tricky because these types of tumors often have fingers that go down into the brain. We caught this at a point where there are probably some of these fingers already there. Because of where the tumor is we cannot remove brain tissue, it would affect your ability to function. I'm going to do my very best to get all of this tumor, and my best is pretty damn good." He said confidently. "Dr. Hanh."

Her feminine voice was a welcome change to Crandall's, but as all this was going on his head got worse, and he was getting more tired, he wouldn't last much longer.

"Patrick, I am your oncologist as I said, and I am going to tell you about what your options are. The first option is to do nothing, the consequence of choosing this, would be death…"

"How long?"

"Shhh Patrick, I will tell you all of these things just be a little patient…"She winked at her pun, and all three smiled briefly.

"Where was I…Oh, yes if you choose option one, judging from the amount of pain you're in, and the continual increase in your intracranial pressure. Three weeks, maybe less, most of which would be spent in utter agony or a coma… she paused for effect.

Option two, is to let Dr. Crandall do the resection and have about a year to two years with only eighteen months of them good.

Option three is the resection, plus a course of radiation, which would put survival at about three to five years, to complete remission, but that is a very rare outcome.

And finally option four, the one I favor. It has been suggested that a course of chemotherapy in conjunction with the resection and radiation will increase survivability to beyond five years and possibly, complete remission, though the odds for that are still very slim."

He sat there absorbing everything they had told him, he looked at every angle in silence while they waited.

"Normally we would give you some time to think about this, but your situation is critical and time is of the essence." Dr. Hanh gently prodded.

Jane understood, but the pain he was in, made his thought processes slower than usual.

Finally he spoke.

" I'll take door number one. I don't want treatment. But,I have changed my mind about the morphine."

The doctors were floored. They hadn't expected this at all. They just gaped at him stunned.

"Doctor, I don't mean to be rude but could you please get me that morphine, this pain is killing me…" he smirked at his own pun.

He started to black out , his vision graying at the edges. He closed his eyes and heard Hanh leave the room.

Pete Crandall couldn't believe what he had heard. What could be so bad in this man's life that he wouldn't even try for eighteen months. He stood there sizing the man up, before he said…

"What are you running from?"

Jane groaned and opened his eyes. "Living… obviously." The reply was a bit snarky.

"Well it's your life... Whatever the reason , you shouldn't give up so quickly. I'm going to give you until tomorrow morning to think about this."

"Fine, but I won't change my decision."He closed his eyes again, 'Oh GOD the pain…I can't take this…where is the damn morphine.'

"Fair enough…" Crandall left the room.

'Why did they leave the lights on, it's cruel.' He turned his head towards the door at the sound of someone entering the room. He didn't bother to look, he wasn't going to open his eyes until he got his morphine, and they turned off the lights. Whoever it was, sat something down on his heard a weird sound, a bumping sound… balloons, that's what it was.

"Lisbon, is that you?" he opened his eyes. He was alone again, but sitting before him was an arrangement full of yellow flowers, above the basket tied to its handle was three mylar balloons. One was a "get well soon".

Another, was a '"thinking of you"balloon…

The third, was a huge, yellow… smiley face… that said "have a nice day".

His heart skipped, and there was a mixture of cold fear and fury in his gut. The adrenalin coursing through his veins pushed the pain back towards the manageable end of the spectrum. His hand trembling, he reached for the card.

Patrick,

I was so sorry to hear about your illness. I understand it is quite serious.

I hope you feel better soon; we have many more games to play.

Your Friend,

Red John

PS. If you take the coward's way out or refuse treatment…

I will kill Agent Lisbon and your whole team...

… Very, very, slowly.