Teresa could see the faint outlines of the two men she'd been following ahead of her on the beach. One was standing, the other was kneeling on the sand and it looked as if he had something in his hand. She moved a little faster, and squinted to see what it was he was holding.

"What the hell!" she murmured as the moonlight fell on a mop of golden hair. The next moment she saw a flash of light shining on metal and quickly realized that something bad was about to happen. She began to run as fast as she could.

"Hey!" she shouted. "CBI – put your hands in the air!"

Charlie swung around, saw someone rushing at them and began to run in the opposite direction. Ed also turned towards the shout, his hand still threaded through Patrick's hair. He reacted slightly more calmly. "Don't come any closer!" he shouted, "or I'll slit his throat!"

Lisbon slowed and then stopped, her gun still drawn and pointed directly at the person with Jane. She could see clearly now – the moon was shining brightly, illuminating everything on the beach. What she saw was the man who had answered the door – Ed – and he was holding Patrick by his hair, and in the other hand he held a knife – a knife pointed directly at Jane's neck. The second man continued to run frantically away from them.

"You don't want to do that," Lisbon called out calmly, although her heart was beating furiously. "If you harm him I'll shoot you."

"NO! Put your gun down," Ed screamed, pulling Jane towards him and pressing the knife to his neck. "I'll kill him unless you put the gun down."

"Why would I do that?" Teresa asked reasonably. "If I do, you'll just kill him anyway. What I suggest you do is put the knife down and let him go. You don't want to add murder to the other charges you already have piling up."

"I'm not going to jail," Ed hissed, the knife still at Jane's throat. "I'd rather die!"

"Really? Well, in that case I'll make sure to not kill you – but I could take out a knee and cripple you. That'll make it tougher for you in prison. Come on – there's no point hurting him so just let him go. It'll go much easier for you."

Cho saw a figure running towards him long before the man saw him. In fact the guy was almost on top of him before he knew there was someone else on the beach. When he saw Cho, Charlie let out a short scream and then fell to the ground, his arms held over his head.

"Don't kill me, please don't kill me. I didn't hurt anyone. It was Zack – he killed the guard. I didn't do anything. And Ed – he's gonna kill the other guy. Please, I didn't do anything!"

Cho calmly walked up to the terrified man and pulled his arms behind his back and cuffed him. "You're under arrest," he said, quickly giving him his rights. "Come on," Cho said, pulling him up and leading him back to the cave where Rigsby was waiting for the paramedics.

"Who's this?" the tall agent asked when Cho appeared with a blubbering man in handcuffs.

"Don't know but he's part of this whole thing. Hold on to him. And give me your cuffs – I made need them and I've already used mine. I'm going to go back and see if I can find Jane or Lisbon."

"Ed's gonna kill him," Charlie cried. "Please, it wasn't my fault."

Cho glanced at Rigsby, both of them looking worried. After a quick look of disgust at the sobbing man Cho then hurried back out to the beach. He started to jog and then run when he saw the faint outline of figures ahead. Only when he was close enough to hear Lisbon's voice did he stop.

"Come on Ed," Teresa said softly. "You don't want to hurt him. It'll only make things worse. Just let him go." They'd been standing at an impasse for quite a few minutes. Ed's hand was starting to shake and Teresa was afraid he was about to break.

Ed knew he was in trouble and he was terrified of the position he found himself in, and angry at the unfairness of it all. This was supposed to have been an easy job, an easy way to make some cash. Instead he could feel his life falling apart around him.

He slowly loosened his grip on Jane's hair and his hand with the knife relaxed. He began to pull the knife away, still not sure what to do.

"That's it Ed, you're making the right decision. Now put the knife down and let him go." Teresa continued to speak calmly, although she was surprised her voice didn't shake with fear.

Ed glanced down at the unconscious man and suddenly found himself full of rage. Why should he let this guy go? Why should he be so lucky when Ed's life was ruined? With a strangled roar he pulled back Jane's head and lifted his knife. He was going to end things his way. They'd shoot him – but he'd go out with a bang, not spend the rest of his life in prison.

A shot rang out and Ed's eyes went wide – he looked at Teresa in shock. And then, slowly – his hand relaxed and the knife dropped to the sand. A moment later the life drained from his eyes, his hand fell from Jane's hair and he slipped to the ground – dead.

Jane fell over as soon as Ed had let him go, and now lay under the body of the man who had been so close to killing him.

"Cho, thank God?" Lisbon rushed forward and frantically pulled the body off of Jane.

Cho helped her, making sure that Ed was not going to present any more danger. When he was sure he turned to Lisbon. "Jane? Is he okay?"

"I don't know," Teresa answered. "Oh God Jane, be alive." She held out a trembling hand and pressed his neck with her fingers. She breathed out noisily. "I've got a pulse, but it's weak. He's alive, Cho, but we need to call for help, quick."

"I'll call right away and tell them we have a man down. Rigsby's already called for the paramedics, but I'll tell them we need more here." Cho spoke into his radio for a few moments and then turned back to Lisbon, who was frantically trying to tell how badly hurt Jane was.

"What?" Teresa looked up at Cho, her face looking pale and bruised in the silver light cast by the moon. "Why did he call for the paramedics."

"It looks like Jane took one of them out," Cho gestured back up the beach with his head. "And the other guy practically ran right into me. I arrested him. How's he doing?" Cho came over and squatted down beside Teresa.

"I don't know," she said, trying to discover what was wrong with Patrick with only moonlight to aid in her examination. "There's blood, but I don't know where it's coming from."

"Yeah, the guy we found in the cave ahead had a bloody knife. He must have stabbed Jane with it."

"Damn! I can't see properly." She could feel dampness on Jane's front but couldn't tell how bad his wounds were. "Jane, can you hear me?" There was silence and she again tried to locate where the blood was coming from and what all was wrong with her friend and colleague.

"Aaagh," a soft groan could be heard and Teresa stopped her examination.

"Jane?"

He groaned again and his head began to move. "Aaagh," he said once more, sounding groggy and in pain. Finally his eyes opened slightly but they looked unfocused and only partly aware. "Lisbon?" he sighed, so quietly she could barely hear.

"I'm here Jane," she answered.

"Lisbon?"

"Yes, I'm here. You're gonna be alright. Just hold on."

There was a few seconds more of silence and then he spoke again. "You – came," he sighed.

"Of course," she laughed, although the underlying tears were evident. "You think I'm going to let you have all the fun!"

"Sssorry," he whispered, his eyes beginning to close.

"Why are you sorry?" she asked, holding his hand tightly and looking frantically at Cho. "Jane, why are you sorry?"

"Hmmm?" he murmured, almost unconscious again. "Charlotte?"

"What?" Teresa looked at Cho in confusion. He answered with a shrug.

"Sssorry," Jane muttered, his eyes closed now.

"Oh God Jane! I'm the one who's sorry. I didn't mean to be so awful to you and I definitely didn't mean for you to really go away. I was – just a little irritated. Next time just ignore me, okay?"

He tried to open his eyes, but couldn't manage against the 100 pound weights which were holding them down. "Kay," he finally managed to get out although he wasn't sure what he was agreeing to. His mind felt so fuzzy. "Charlotte?" He reached out his hand as if looking for something.

"What is it Jane? What do you want?"

"Charlotte?" he said, sounding almost frantic. His hand kept searching the sand beside him.

"Maybe he wants this?" Cho said gently, reaching down and picking up the doll.

"A doll? Why would he – oh God, you think it was his daughter's?"

"Could be," Cho answered, setting it down gently beside Jane's searching hand. As soon as the injured man touched it he grabbed it and pulled it to his chest. A second later he lapsed into unconsciousness.

"It was probably in his house. I can't see how else he would have gotten it."

Teresa reached out and gently moved a curl off of Jane's forehead. She wanted to hold him and offer him comfort – both for the physical wounds, but even more for the emotional ones she knew he still suffered. Seeing him clutch an old, dirty doll – that must have belonged to his dead daughter – caused her heart to hurt for him.

"When are those damned paramedics going to get here?" Teresa asked angrily. "We need them now."

As if in answer to a prayer, she could see lights coming towards them from up ahead. A few seconds later a four-wheel drive jeep drove up and two men got out.

"Is someone down?" one of them called.

"Yes, he's right here. Please hurry. He's bleeding and unconscious." Teresa stepped back when the paramedics arrived, their equipment placed carefully down beside the fallen man.

It didn't take long for them to have Patrick hooked up to monitors and an IV. They'd discovered two wounds – one on his upper left arm and one long wound radiating from beneath his left nipple diagonally across his stomach to over his right hip bone. It had bled profusely, although the paramedics didn't believe any of his organs had been damaged.

They loaded Jane onto a stretcher and then into the back of the specially equipped jeep. Teresa followed, clutching the doll, while Cho went to help Rigsby. The paramedics assured him that another emergency vehicle was on the way, along with the Malibu police.

The entire way to the hospital the paramedic in back with Jane monitored his vital signs and checking his pupils every few minutes, making Teresa ask what was wrong.

"His pupils aren't responding equally," the paramedic told her. "Could be a sign of a head injury. I just need to monitor it closely. Did he say anything when you found him?"

"A few words," she answered.

"Was he coherent?"

"Not really. He did seem to recognize me, but his words were slurred and he appeared confused."

"Mmm," the paramedic again checked Jane's eyes. "I think you'd better hurry," he called to the driver."

"Is he in danger?" Teresa asked, her eyes growing big with fear.

"Head injuries are never anything to play around with," he said. "The sooner he get's treatment the better. For now he's holding his own, though, so hopefully it's not too bad."

Five minutes later they pulled up to the emergency wing of the hospital. Before Teresa knew what was happening, the rear door of the jeep had opened and people were pulling out the gurney. She followed quickly, but soon Jane was taken into the trauma center and she was asked to stay outside in the waiting room. She was still holding Jane's doll in her hand.

She gave all the information she had to the nurse at the desk, telling her that Jane had insurance but that she didn't have the information on her but could get it as soon as the CBI office opened. After she'd given all the details she was able, she returned to the waiting area and collapsed into a hard plastic chair and began the long wait.

It was only then that she looked down at herself and realized that her shirt was covered with blood and sand. She had to close her eyes, feeling dizzy and sick for a moment when she saw how much blood there was. Normally it didn't bother her that much – in her line of work you eventually got used to seeing. But it was a different matter when the blood belonged to someone you knew.

To distract herself from the blood, knowing that there was nothing she could do about it now anyway, Teresa looked at the doll, still clutched in her hand. She stared at it for a moment – seeing the dirty and rotting dress, the matted hair and the sand covered face. She also noticed that the doll too had Jane's blood all over it – and finally she saw the slit in the plastic of one of the doll's shoulders. She had to swallow as the doll made her think of what it must have been like for Jane when he found his wife and daughter. She couldn't help but remember the pictures – their bodies and the bed covered in their blood. For some reason the doll reminded her of that macabre picture.

As she held on to the doll she realized that it was no wonder Jane had had a nervous breakdown after their murders. What was surprising is that he managed to now deal with life as well as he did. She didn't know if she could have done the same.

To get her mind off of the blood and the picture in her mind, she lifted up the doll to examine it more closely. It looked as if someone or something had recently slashed the plastic just below the neck. At least she was pretty sure it was recent, based on the dirt on the doll and the cleanliness of the cut. She wondered if it had happened at the same time as Jane's injuries.

The next think she did was turn the doll over and pull down the back of the once pretty pink dress. There was a tag with writing on it and she tugged at it and turned the doll over so she could read it.

My dollMindy

Charlotte Jane

She closed her eyes briefly. They'd been right – it was Charlotte's doll. She couldn't help but wonder why Jane had it – what it meant that he was carrying it. But he was going to be okay – and then she'd ask him.

He had to be okay. She would never forgive herself if he – if he didn't come back to her – to them. Even though he could sometimes be irritating, he'd become too important a person to lose.

She didn't know how long she sat there, the doll still clutched in her hands. Somehow it became a symbol to her – a talisman that would keep Jane alive. Charlotte, and Angela too, had to be watching out for him. She knew Jane didn't believe in an afterlife, but she did – and she'd believe for the both of them.

"How is he?"

Teresa looked up, startled. Standing in front of her was her team. All of them looked tired – and both Rigsby and Cho had sand on their shoes and dust covered their suits. Grace looked fine – although her forehead was crinkled with worry.

"Oh – hi," she said, blinking herself awake. She hadn't realized she'd been half dozing – or maybe it was shock. She looked at her watch, and then had to look again. "What time is it?" she asked.

"It's almost 9:30," Grace told her. "How's Jane."

"Uh – I don't know," she admitted. "They took him to surgery -" she looked again at her watch – "almost four hours ago. I don't know why I haven't heard anything." She looked over to the emergency desk but knew it was hopeless to ask. She'd already tried numerous times.

"What happened?" she asked her team, who were now sitting with her in the waiting room.

"Ed Bigelow was a petty thief," Cho answered. "He's been arrested a couple of times before, but never did any jail time. According to Charles Matthews – the one who ran – Ed was the leader of the little merry band. He's the one who tried to kill Jane."

"Is he dead?" Teresa asked, barely remembering her time on the beach.

"Yes," Cho answered. "I'm off until they determine the details of the shooting."

"What? Well I'll tell them. I saw him try and kill Jane. You had to shoot."

"I know. But they have to be sure."

Teresa nodded. "Yeah, but it'll be okay Kimball. There wasn't anything else you could do and you saved Jane's life. And what about the other two? You did say there were three of them?"

"We found Zachary Davis in a cave about 500 feet from where you found Jane," Rigsby answered. "He's the one we think stabbed him. We found him with a bloody knife. Forensics has it and they're examining it. We think, though, that Jane took him out – looks like he conked him on the head pretty hard. Davis has been taken to hospital with a serious head wound. They don't know whether he's going to make it or not."

"Jane took him out? Really?" Teresa looked from one teammate to another, but each of them nodded. "Well, that has to be a first! Jane got himself out of trouble!"

Grace giggled, and then immediately looked horrified. "I'm – I'm sorry. I don't mean to laugh but -"

"It's okay Grace," Teresa said softly. "You know Patrick – he'd much rather have us happy and joking around then being all solemn and serious."

"Oh God, I hope he's going to be okay," Grace said, tears in her eyes. "Why did they take him? Do we know?"

"Charles Matthews said that they were looking for a place to hide and found Jane up on a road overlooking the ocean. They found out he had a place in Malibu and decided to hide out in his place. I guess he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Uh – do we know why he was there? It's a long way from Sacramento," Rigsby said, looking between Cho and Lisbon.

Teresa put her head in her hands. "I got mad at him. I guess he came here to – get away."

"Hey, it's okay boss," Grace put her hand on Teresa's shoulder. "It wasn't your fault. Like Wayne said, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Yeah, but why Jane? Hasn't he suffered enough?" Teresa cried. "And if I hadn't gotten mad at him he would never have come to Malibu!"

"No, and they might have kidnapped someone else – someone who didn't have friends who were CBI agents and who came and saved him. Jane didn't deserve this, but as soon as you thought he might be in trouble you ran to his rescue," Cho reminded her. "Would you have done that for anyone else?"

Teresa wasn't ready to be absolved from what she saw as her betrayal of Jane, and knew she wouldn't be until – and if – Jane got better. For right now all she could do was feel like this was all her fault.

"Is there someone here for Patrick Jane?" a tired voice called out. Teresa looked up to see a man walk towards them in scrubs, his hands rubbing his tired face.

"Yes, we are," Teresa answered, standing quickly. "Are you the surgeon?"

"Yes, I'm Dr. Williams," he nodded and looked at four of the people in the waiting room. "May I sit down? I've been on my feel for quite a few hours."

"Of course." Teresa watched impatiently as everyone seated themselves. "So, how is he?" she finally asked.

The doctor took a deep breath and let it out. "He's alive," he said bluntly, "and for now is doing as well as can be expected."

"What does that mean?" Grace asked sharply. Wayne gave her an admonishing look, which caused her to frown and to snap. "Well, that's doctor speak. We want to know how he really is."

Dr. Williams smiled. "You're right – we do tend to do that. Okay – so you want it straight, here it is. Mr. Jane lost a substantial amount of blood from the two cuts, although we're dealing with that and he should be fine. The cuts themselves were deep and caused extensive tissue and muscle damage. That's why we were in surgery so long. We brought in a specialist to repair the torn muscles and tendons – especially in his arm. He should eventually be fine, although he'll require extensive physical therapy."

"He's going to love that," Rigsby muttered.

"Along with the cuts he suffered three broken ribs. Fortunately they remained pretty stable except for one – which ended up piercing his lung." The doctor held up his hand at the reaction of Jane's colleagues. "Fortunately it wasn't too bad – it could have been much worse. As it was I went in and repaired the tissue and it should be fine barring complications or him pushing himself too soon."

"Great," muttered Grace. "And who's going to make sure he doesn't do that?"

"What else aren't you telling us Doc, Teresa asked finally. "What's wrong with him."

Dr. Williams pinched the bridge of his nose and took another breath. "He had a severe head injury, which cracked his skull in the back, here." He showed everyone the spot on his own head. "The result of that was a subdural Haematoma – or bleeding between the skull and the brain. The good news is it wasn't a major bleed. The bad news is it went untreated for many hours."

"What does that mean?" Rigsby asked, realizing that it sounded serious.

"The bleeding put pressure on Mr. Jane's brain – which can cause long term damage or even death. Fortunately we managed to get to him in time to prevent his death and to immediately reduce the pressure on his brain."

"How did you do that?" Wayne wanted to know.

The doctor turned to him. "Unfortunately, we do it the same way it's been done for centuries. We drill three small holes into the skull. That releases the pressure and allows us to drain the excess blood."

"And he's going to be okay now?" Teresa asked, her eyes not leaving the doctor's face.

"We hope so," the doctor said gently. "It's impossible to say with a head injury. He could come out of this with nothing more than a headache – or he could suffer long term or permanent effects."

"Such as," Cho asked bluntly.

"Again, it's impossible to say. The brain is a complex organ, and there's still a tremendous amount we don't know. We won't know with Mr. Jane until he comes out of the anesthesia completely – and maybe not even for a few days after that. He received severe injuries and lost a lot of blood. He's going to be groggy for a while – so until that wears off, we won't really know. All I can tell you is that it's a waiting game – and we'll hope for the best."

"Can we see him?" Teresa wanted to know. Her hands were clenched tightly around the doll and she was paper white. Her teammates looked at her worriedly.

Dr. Williams gave her a crooked smile, but nodded. "In a few minutes. They're going to be getting him settled in ICU. I'll have one of the nurses come and tell you when you can see him. But I'm afraid only one person can go at a time and you'll have to leave if the nurses ask you to. They're going to be monitoring him closely."

"I understand," she answered. "Uh – I'll go first," she looked at her team, but they all nodded.

"Boss, let me take that," Grace nodded at the doll. "I'll look after it."

Teresa looked down at the doll in surprise. She'd forgotten she had it. After staring at it for a few seconds she finally held it out to Grace. She didn't really want to let it go, but knew she couldn't take something so filthy into the ICE. "It's Jane's," she said, unnecessarily.

"I know," Grace said softly. "I'll look after it, don't worry."

Teresa nodded and let the doll go. A few minutes later a nurse came to take her to Patrick's room.

"Uh – I'm sorry, -" she said, looking back at her team.

"Just go Teresa," Cho told her kindly. "We'll be here if you need us. Say hi to Jane for us."

"I will," she laughed softly, her voice breaking with fear and anguish. She turned and followed the nurse.

Her first sight of Jane shocked her, and she almost turned and ran from the room. The sheet covered him to his waist and above that his chest was wrapped in bandages – the white contrasting with the bruises which she could see below and above them. She knew that the bandages also covered the long gash in his chest as well as supporting his broken ribs. She winced in sympathy.

His arm was also well bandaged and it rested on a pillow by his side, an pulse/Ox monitor on his finger.

The hardest thing to look at, however, was the bandage that circled his head. His blond curls – the ones she could see sticking out – were damp and limp looking – almost as if his usually irrepressible spirit had fled, not just his body, but from his hair as well.

"Oh Jane," she sighed when looking at him. "How did you manage to get into all this trouble? I'm afraid I'm going to have to watch out for you from now on."

She watched him in silence for a few more minutes, only going so far as to hold his hand in hers. She hoped he knew that she was with him, that he wasn't alone.

"Patrick, I want you to listen to me," she told him in her best Lisbon voice. "You're getting better and soon you're going to want to go home. But don't be foolish. You were hurt really badly and you need time to heal. So take this time to heal, to recuperate, to get better. I'll be here for you and Cho, Rigsby and Grace are all here as well."

Lisbon took a deep breath. "We need you Patrick," she told him, squeezing his hand. "Come back to us – please."