"Hi Jane – Jane?" Teresa looked around the hospital room, almost as if she expected him to suddenly pop out from behind the bed. But a quick perusal of the room showed that he wasn't there. In fact, based on the fact that the bed was devoid of sheets and the table was clear, she was pretty sure he hadn't just wandered down the hallway. Patrick Jane had left the hospital.

"Jane!" she said again, this time with frustration, anger and some anxiety. Where the hell had he gone?

Teresa stomped out of the room and down the hallway to the nurse's station. One lone RN was sitting there, writing notes.

"Excuse me? Can you tell me where Patrick Jane is?" Teresa asked, not waiting to get the nurse's attention. "He isn't in his room."

"I'm sorry?" the nurse asked, lifting her head from the papers in front of her. "Who are you looking for?"

"Patrick Jane?" She could tell from the expression on the woman's face, that the news wasn't good. She sighed and waited to hear what she had to say.

The nurse frowned. "He checked himself out a while ago – against the doctor's advice."

"Of course he did!" groaned Lisbon, shaking her head. "How long ago?"

The woman glanced at her watch. "About 45 minutes. If you're a friend or relative, I suggest you find out where he's gone and go check on him. He really isn't well enough to be out of the hospital. At the least he should have someone stay with him."

"Oh, I'll check on him alright!" Teresa fumed. "Thank you." She turned to leave when the nurse stopped her.

"Uh – ma'am, can I ask a question?"

Teresa turned back with a slight frown. "Yes, of course."

"Well, some of the other nurses said that – well, that Mr. Jane's family was killed by the serial killer Red John. Is that true?"

Teresa sighed. "Yes, I'm afraid it is."

"Oh – that's so sad! I saw him with the doll and – I wondered about it. Then I heard Susanna – she's one of the other nurses – talk about his little girl. I feel so badly for him."

At the nurse's words Teresa's anger suddenly left her. She knew how much Jane hated hospitals – and right now he was also dealing with the trauma of what had happened to him, as well as the memories of his family. She had to cut him some slack.

And she would – after she killed him!

She sat in her car for a few minutes, trying to figure out where Jane could have gone. She doubted he would go all the way back to Sacramento. It was a long drive and he didn't have his car. He could have taken a bus, but that too didn't seem plausible, considering his condition.

The only other option – other than a hotel – was his Malibu house. But surely he wouldn't go back there. For one thing, it was now a crime scene and might still be closed off by the police. There was also no furniture there – except for that one mattress. And finally – she couldn't imagine him wanting to go back after having been so recently hurt and traumatized there.

She sighed and started her car and turned it towards Malibu. Knowing Jane, all the reasons she outlined to herself would make no difference.

It didn't take her long to get to his house. It was the middle of the day, and the traffic wasn't yet too bad. She pulled up in the front driveway and simply looked. It was a beautiful house – and she could only imagine what his life had been like before Red John. She could imagine him coming home to a beautiful wife who loved him and a daughter who was the center of his life.

It was such a tragedy – one she very rarely allowed herself to think about. She had long ago decided that the only way to work with Jane was to be tough – allowing her pity to show wouldn't help any of them, least of all Jane. But any time she was confronted with what happened to him, it was hard. She wanted to put her arms around him and hold him.

She turned off her engine and slowly got out of the car. Looking around, there was little evidence that anyone had been here, other than the trailing police tape on the front door. It had been ripped apart, and now floated in the breeze. Yes, Jane had to be here.

The door was unlocked, so she opened it, not bothering to knock. When she stepped inside she couldn't help but grimace. It was obvious the police had been here, and they had left it a mess.

There was more police tape and dust from taking fingerprints. There were also smears of blood on the walls and floors. Poor Jane – now he had this to deal with as well.

"Jane," she called out, wanting to alert him to her presence. "Jane, where are you?"

There was no answer, but of course she knew where he had to be. With a slow breath out, she turned and climbed the stairs to the second floor, wondering at each step how Jane was able to walk up these same stairs each time, without remembering and going mad.

"Jane, are you here?" The door to the bedroom was ajar and she carefully pushed it open. It was no surprise to see him lying on the mattress, his eyes closed, his chest moving with each breath. But his chest was moving too quickly and a deep furrow split his brow. Jane was not asleep.

She only half-noticed that he still had the doll with him. He was no longer holding it, but it rested beside him on the bed.

Teresa slowly approached him, refusing to look up at the macabre face. Instead she knelt down beside him. "Hey, are you okay?" she asked softly.

"Lisbon?" Jane's eyes opened blearily and he blinked as if only half awake. He clearly hadn't noticed her coming in. She grimaced upon hearing his voice. It was rough and weak sounding.

"Jane, are you alright?" she asked, deep gouges of worry in her forehead. She reached out and tried to put her hand on his forehead, but he jerked his head away.

"What?" he asked, licking his lips, and then swallowed. He blinked a couple of more times and then slowly looked around the room – a moment later his expression changed and he looked at her in puzzlement. "What am I doing here?"

Lisbon grew even more concerned. "Jane, you checked yourself out of the hospital and came here."

"I did?" he asked in confusion.

"Yes – do you remember how you got here?"

He blinked a few more times and then looked directly at her. "Uh – a cab I think."

"Are you okay?" she asked again, reaching out and this time managing to feel his forehead. "Damn Jane, you have a fever. What the hell were you thinking, checking yourself out of the hospital?"

"There was nothing more they could do for me," he told her. "I'll heal just as fast at home."

"Right – with no furniture except a mattress on the floor, no bedding, no food – and that damn painting over your bed. You can't stay here. Come on, I'm taking you back."

"No," he said, sounding like a ten year old. "I'm not going. They're a bunch of quacks!"

"They are not. They're professional medical people and they saved your life. Now get off your butt and come on!"

"I'm doing just fine here," he said petulantly. "You don't need to stay if you don't want to."

"Jane," she said, sighing patiently. "You can't stay here by yourself. What about food?"

"I can order it," he shrugged.

"Right! And you're going to go downstairs and get it, and then come back up? And what about utensils and things?"

"They bring plastic ones," he defended himself.

Teresa rolled her eyes. "Patrick, you can't stay here. If I have to I'll get Rigsby to come and carry you out of here!"

"You wouldn't!" he exclaimed softly.

"Wanna make a bet? Look, you need to be somewhere where there are people to look after you – to bring you food and drink, make sure you take your medicine, bathe, etc. You can't do that here!"

"I'm not going back to the hospital," Jane said obstinately.

She sighed. She knew when she was defeated. "Okay, but you can't stay here."

"There's nowhere else," he answered. And while he didn't say that to garner pity, she couldn't help but feel that it was sad. Jane no longer had a real home and no family.

"Yes there is," she answered, sounding firm. "We're going to stay in a hotel tonight and then tomorrow, if you're up to it, we'll head back to Sacramento. You can stay with me."

"You don't -"

"I'm not asking you Jane," she interrupted. "Come on – let's go."

He peered up at her – looking sick and tired and weak – but there was a bit of his usual twinkle. "I like it when you take control Lisbon," he told her.

She sighed and shook her head and put out her hand. "Come on – get up!"

It took longer than he would have thought just to stand up. Everything hurt – his ribs especially protested the movement – and he felt weak and dizzy. He glanced at Lisbon, who was looking a combination of irritated and worried. That made him grin – he could always depend on Lisbon looking out for him – and being irritated while she did it.

"You okay?" she asked. This time the concern won out.

"I'm fine," he said, although even he could tell his voice didn't sound at all convincing.

"Right! Come on, let's get out of here." She stood beside him, on his good side, and threaded her arm around his side. She began to move forward, but he stopped, forcing her to halt as well. "What is it?" she asked impatiently.

He looked towards the bed, where the doll still sat.

"Did you want to bring it?" she asked gently. He glanced at her, and then back at the doll.

"No," he said finally. "But I don't want to leave it there. Can you get it?"

"Sure." She carefully let go of him, watching to make sure he wouldn't keel over, and retrieved the doll. "Where do you want it?"

He thought for a moment and then nodded out to the hallway. "There's a linen closet in the hall. Can you put it there?"

"Sure, just hold on." She looked at him again. "You're not going to fall down, are you?"

He gave her a wan smile. "No, but don't leave me too long."

"I'll be right back!" She practically flew to the hallway and was back almost before he could blink.

"That was fast."

"Yeah – we need to get you to bed. Come on!"

So Jane leaned on her – something he'd been doing for a long time now, although he hadn't realized it until this moment. He felt a sudden wave of tenderness for this tiny, fierce woman.

"Thank you," he said as she guided him down the stairs. She looked at him in surprise.

"What for?"

He smiled. "For being my savior," he said.

She snorted. "Right! Although I'd really appreciate it if you didn't get into situations where you had to be saved."

"Okay," he nodded, although he wanted to tell her he wasn't really thanking her for saving him from Zack, Ed and Charlie – but rather saving her from himself. Without her he knew he wouldn't have made it to this point.

"You know that I didn't mean what I said," Teresa suddenly blurted. They'd just gotten to the bottom of the stairs and Jane stopped – almost making them both fall.

"What?" he said, confused.

"Before – in my office. I was just pissed Jane – I didn't really want you to go away. I'm sorry."

He had honestly forgotten what had started this whole thing. He glance down at her and felt a pang of remorse. He could tell Teresa was blaming herself for this whole thing.

"I know that," he said. "And you had every right to be upset but don't you dare blame yourself for this. I just decided I wanted to go for a drive and it was just my bad luck that I came across our merry trio. You had nothing to do with it Lisbon."

"You're sure?" she asked, sounding doubtful. "Stan said you looked – upset."

"Stan?" he frowned.

"The guard at the CBI."

"Oh, Stan." He realized he'd barely noticed the night guard when he left, which wasn't typical of him at all. "I was just tired."

By this time they'd made it to Lisbon's car. It took a while to get in, as Jane had trouble bending and she had to help him. He let out a heartrending moan when he'd had to twist to get his legs in – the movement obviously excruciating. Finally, when they were both buckled in, Teresa turned and regarded him carefully.

"I am sorry Jane. You're my friend and I shouldn't have been so awful to you."

Her sincerity made him feel guilty. He knew that she had to put up a lot from him, that he often made life difficult for her. With a soft sigh he tried to turn to her, although his ribs made it impossible. Instead he leaned back and closed his eyes. "Hey, it's okay. I knew you really didn't mean it and – well, I deserved it. I'm sorry that I'm such a pain to work with."

"Jane! No. You're not. It's just – sometimes -" her voice faded out and she looked at him sheepishly.

He chuckled softly. "Don't worry Lisbon, I know." He finally turned his head and looked at her. "Let's just forget about it, okay? I was a jerk and you – got a little upset at me. But we're friends, right? And friends don't stay mad at each other."

She slowly smiled and nodded. "Of course we're friends." She then took a deep breath and started the car. "And as your friend," she said as she backed out of his driveway, "I'm going to look after you. And no arguing!"

He settled back and closed his eyes, a small smile on his face. The truth was, after what he'd just been through, he wanted someone to look after him. The last thing he wanted or needed was to be by himself – or in the hospital – that was just as bad.

"Jane. Jane!"

He slowly blinked awake, feeling completely disoriented. He couldn't remember where he was, although he had a sudden feeling of panic. Zack – Ed – he'd been kidnapped –

"Jane!"

Wait – he knew that voice. "Lisbon?" he said softly, his voice rough from sleep.

"Yes, it's me. You fell asleep."

Jane opened his eyes fully and looked around. He was in a car and Teresa was sitting beside him, her face crinkled with worry. Why was she worried? Had something happened? He turned quickly so see if there was any danger – but he'd only moved a tiny bit when pain ripped up his side and he gasped. What the - !

"Take it easy!" Teresa laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Be careful Jane. You've got broken ribs."

"No – kidding," he gasped, still feeling dizzy and sick from moving too quickly. "What the hell happened?"

"You don't remember?"

He looked at her for a moment, until the fog lifted from his brain. "Oh – yeah," he muttered.

"Oh yeah! I'm going to go inside and get us a room. Are you okay here for a few minutes?"

"I'll be fine Lisbon," he said, still trying to deal with the pain. "Just – go."

She regarded him for a few more seconds, but realized that he'd be better in bed, and she'd better hurry. "I'll be right back. Do not go anywhere."

"I won't. Don't worry," he promised. "In fact, I think I'll just sleep here." There was no way he wanted to get out of the car, not when he remembered how painful it was to get in.

Teresa left and things grew quiet. He dozed, not really caring where they were or what was going on. He hurt and his mind kept wanting to go back to those terror filled moments at his house and then on the beach. But he didn't want to remember those things. Instead he concentrated on the shards of pain which were helping to distract him.

He didn't know how long Lisbon had been gone – it could have been minutes or hours. All he knew was that he was tired and he wanted to sleep. By the time the car opened, he was more than halfway there.

"Come on Jane, I got us a room."

"Mmm," he groaned. "I'm good here."

"Come on!" she told him. "Here, I'll help." She reached down and undid his seat belt and then tried to help him out. "Cooperate!" she snapped.

With another groan – and a glare – he managed to bring his feet out, and then let Teresa help him to stand. The pain was getting worse, and he was unsure if he could make it all the way to his room. But Teresa helped and soon he was lying down on a comfortable, queen sized bed.

"Here." He opened his eyes to see Teresa holding something in her palm.

"What?" he frowned.

"Pain pills," she told him. "And here's a glass of water."

Normally he didn't like taking medication – he hated the fuzzy feeling he got from it. But this time he readily accepted them. He hurt and his head already felt funny. He swallowed them and hoped they'd kick in soon.

"Jane, can you sit up?"

He opened one bleary eye and glared at her. "Why would I want to do that? I just laid down!"

She sighed. "You're not going to be very comfortable in your suit. Come on – I'll help you undress."

He stared at her in surprise. The medicine, and his wounds, were making him feel very off-kilter. He blinked at her. "What?"

"I'm going to help you with your clothes."

"No," he shook his head. He was not about to have Teresa undress him! "I'm fine."

"Jane, come on. Don't be a baby! You're sick and you'll be much more comfortable out of your good clothes."

The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the side of the bed and Teresa was unbuttoning his shirt. He was so woozy he kept tipping over, and she had to continually grab him and balance him. She finally got his shirt off – carefully and slowly and grimaced when she saw the discoloration on his chest above and below the bandages wrapping his torso. He yelped and glared at her when she pulled off the sleeves– although then he started to giggle. He was feeling very, very loopy!

"Lie back," she told him. He grinned at her and flopped down – but then frowned when he realized that that hadn't been wise. Still the pain meds took the edge off.

He lay there, staring at the ceiling. He was a little chilly and couldn't figure out why. The next thing he knew, someone was undoing his belt and then started on the button on his pants!

"Hey!" he reached down and grabbed a hand. He lifted his head – it was difficult – and found Lisbon looking at him impatiently. "Jane, let go."

"Why are you – taking off my – pants Teresa?" he mumbled.

"Jane, I told you – I'm helping you undress for bed. Don't worry – this is all I'm taking off. Now let go!"

He stared at her for a few more seconds and then grinned and let go of her hand. "Okay, you can undress me." He dropped his head back on the pillow. "I don't mind if you undress me Lisbon. I like you."

"I like you too Jane," she said as she unzipped his pants. The next thing was to pull them off. "Can you lift your butt?"

"Huh?"

"Lift up so I can pull this off."

"What are you doing?"

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. She should have known that looking after a sick Jane would be interesting. "Just lift your butt and then I'm putting you to bed."

"Oh. Okay." He tried to help – really he did – but he was sore, and tired and feeling very fuzzy. In the end she did most of the work.

"Okay there! Now let's get you under the covers." She helped him move up a few inches and then she tucked him in with the blankets.

He frowned at her. "Aren't you coming in?" he asked. "I'm cold!"

"You'll warm up in a minute. Now just go to sleep. I'll be in the next bed if you need something."

"But I want you to sleep with me!" he told her, sounding like a whiny ten year old. "Please Teresa!"

She looked at him and shook her head. She wondered if he'd remember this in the morning. In all her wildest dreams – and she couldn't help but admit she'd had more than a few about Patrick Jane – she'd never imagined this scenario. Part of her was disappointed that he was only offering because of the medication he was on.

"Fine," she sighed. "But I have to get ready for bed. You just rest and I'll be back in a minute. I'm going to the lobby to get something."

"Okay." His eyes closed and he appeared to doze. She watched him for a moment and then went to the door. She didn't have anything with her, and hoped she could buy a toothbrush – and maybe a tee-shirt for pajamas.

While in the lobby she also grabbed a few things to snack on. She hadn't eaten dinner and was getting hungry. She wondered about Patrick. Maybe she should have stopped and picked up dinner. Oh well – there was nothing she could do for now. If he was hungry he could have some nuts!

She let herself in quietly, sure that Jane would be asleep. She would clean herself up, put on I Love LA tee-shirt she'd purchased at the gift shop and climb into the other bed. Jane would never remember that he'd wanted her to sleep in the same bed with him.

She pulled back the covers and climbed in, suddenly exhausted from the last few days. She yawned and reached to turn out the lights.

"Lisbon?"

"Jane?"

"Where are you? I'm cold. I need you."

Damn! "I'm coming." She kicked off the covers and padded her way over to Jane's bed. She knew she would regret this, but right now there was no way she could refuse him. He sounded so lost, so scared – and she understood that after what he'd been through he needed some comfort. She just hoped she wouldn't regret this.

She climbed into bed – Jane's bed – and lay there silently – her body as far over to the edge as possible. She barely had time to relax, when she felt the mattress move, heard a grunt of pain and then felt Jane's arm move on top of her stomach. A moment later she could tell, from his deep and rhythmic breathing, that he was asleep.

Great! Now she was going to lie here, trapped by Jane's arm, all night. She knew there was no way she was going to sleep, lying in bed with him. Nope! No way.

Five minutes later she was sound asleep. Thirty minutes later she was cuddled up next to Jane.