A/N: The long awaited update is here. It is short but important. Insert apologies and excuses here.

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Lisbon tossed and turned trying in vain to sleep. All she could think about was Jane, her gut twisting at the thought of his wasted and pale body withering away alone in the hospital miles away.

There has to be some way to get through this without losing him… Losing him… Oh God I can't lose him.

The revelation still reverberating in her ears she gave up on sleep. With the speed and surety of someone who has made a decision she dressed, left her apartment, and headed to Concord.

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Grace sat on her knees in her quiet and dark bedroom praying, praying for Patrick Jane. She always prayed for him, but she felt the need for the ritual of kneeling in supplication, it soothed her soul and gave her a strength and focus to her prayers that she didn't get with less formal prayers.

Dear God I lift Patrick up to you. Heal him Lord, and take away the cancer eating away at his body. Lord you know how he has suffered and I pray that you ease his burden now, take away his pain and heal his body and soul.

###################################################Rigsby was dreaming about getting Red John. Jane didn't know it but Wayne Rigsby felt vengeance of his own towards Red John. What that monster had done to Jane and then Bosco made Rigsby's jaw and fists clench with tightly controlled rage. Beneath his Labrador puppy image laid a man of conviction and passion. In his dreams Wayne finds himself catching Red John and keeping him somewhere secluded waiting for Jane to arrive and have his revenge. Wayne is always a willing participant, and when he wakes he feels a combination of relief and horror over the things his dream self has done. This is where he was now, on that cusp of wake and sleep where the dream is the most intense. He can see the Jane's face locked in enigmatic concentration as he carved away on his captive. The smell of blood and its coppery tang fills the air. The sound of Red John's whimpers and begging fill him with deep satisfaction that resonates in his soul.

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Cho was sitting outside his favorite all night diner in his car, vacillating between reading and staring out the window. He couldn't sleep, and his mind kept returning to the moment he realized Jane was in trouble. He couldn't let it go; he should have realized something was wrong.

Jane is never that quiet.

Amidst his recriminations a thought crept in continually, the thought that somehow Patrick Jane mattered to him, the possibility of Jane dying made him sick. He hadn't worried about anyone like that in a long time and he never expected Jane, of all people, to get through his barriers and make him care.

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Red John waited for his chance to see Patrick and leave his gift. He had to the compulsion to look at Jane's broken body to drink in his suffering like nectar. Jane had given him so much to feel and challenged his mind that to lose him was not conceivable. He would not lose his playmate…His friend. Anyone who stood in the way of Patrick's full recovery would pay dearly.

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After what was a few hours of blissfully calm sleep, Jane began to stir. Pete watched as he sat sipping his coffee his case notes spread out in front of him. He'd sat here for hours watching and waiting to make sure Patrick was okay, only leaving long enough for coffee and to bring his work back with him and dozing in and out. It was an unusual situation for him to be here, but then again nothing about this scenario was usual. He sighed and began returning to his notes when a blue eye caught his attention.

"Good morning."

Jane stared in silence.

"You okay?" There was still no response from Jane, his gaze never wavering from Pete's. Pete began to be worried by Patrick's silence.

"Patrick?" His brow furrowed with interest and he stood and walked to the bedside.

Jane's eyes followed without expression in them and the only thing that let the doctor know he was aware was the expectant flinch when Patrick saw the penlight coming towards him.

"Aha you are in there. What gives? Cat got your tongue?" The look on Jane's face became more recognizable as resignation, but still no response from him verbally.

"Patrick, I'm going to need you to answer me okay? Just so I know you're okay."

Jane turned his head away and sighed. Pete looked at him nonplussed.

"Come on buddy tell me what's going on."

Jane's fascination with the ceiling continued but he raised his bony left arm and pointed towards Pete.

"Me? What about me?"

The arm hung there like specter beginning to tremble with the effort.

What the hell are you trying to say to me Patrick? And damnit why won't you say something?

"What are you trying to tell me? Come on buddy I am trying to help but I don't understand."

That elicited a quiet sigh from Patrick his arm was getting lower and lower but still pointed ominously.

"So it's not me it must be behi—"Pete turned around and his knees almost buckled at the sight he beheld.