I was awoken by footsteps entering my hospital room. Nothing had changed and I was beginning to lose hope that I would ever see my friends again. It was painful to only hear their distraught voices pleading for me to wake up. The person briefly paused in the doorway before continuing to my side. I heard the distinct sound of glass being placed on a hard, flat surface and the light swishing sound of water.

"I guess these are sort of an apology, which seems a little silly because you're in a coma and can't hear anything I say anyways." Lisbon stated softly, unable to hide her grief. I was unsure of what 'these' were, but I was glad she had returned. "I shouldn't have said what I said because," she paused, collecting her thoughts, "it's not your fault. It's something beyond our control, so I'm sorry." She admitted. Suddenly, I felt her hand grasp mine and caress it softly. I didn't usually encourage physical contact with anyone, but this was different. It helped me know I was still alive and that there was still hope that my state was improving. "The flowers are pretty…I hope you wake up in time to see them." Lisbon told him, lightening the mood. "I went to a florist and it was actually really busy." She began, obviously wanting to defer from the seriousness of the situation. I wasn't sure whether this change in conversation was for my benefit or for hers. Either way, it was nice to here about something other than my being in a coma. "Then I realized that Valentine's Day is coming up. I hate Valentine's Day." My ears picked up a note of despair in her voice. "I know this sounds cliché, but its just depressing when you're single. It's lonely." I felt Lisbon release my hand and sit back in, what I guessed, was a chair. "I know this isn't exactly something we'd talk about, but I figure my problems are minuscule in comparison to yours… and you're not exactly complaining." She commented, trying to instill a sense of normalcy. Lisbon was silent and, for a moment, I thought she had silently left the room or that I had lost my ability to hear. I was relieved when she finally spoke up. "Do you think-," her voice drifted, as if pondering whether or not to continue, "-do you think Jane would be interested in me?" She asked uncertainly. I was completely surprised by the confession. Lisbon likes Jane? My next thought was why would she tell me this, of all people. "I half-expected you to answer." Then the reality of the situation set in. For her, it's like talking to a wall. "I want to ask him out, but I know I can't. It'd be inappropriate. We work together, he lost his family only a few years ago," her breathing hitched and I could feel her watching me expectantly, "and I'm not sure he even likes me in that way. I'm not sure I'd be his type." Her breathing quickened and I began to think her attempt at deferment was faltering. "I thought telling you this would make me feel better, but… I wish you would wake up. Just let us know your still there." She started to cry and I could do nothing about it. I felt panic rise within me and I desperately wanted to tell her I could hear her, but I couldn't. Lisbon never cries. I just couldn't believe it. She was vulnerable and distraught and I could do nothing to stop it. "I can't believe I let you go in there… I can't…" I could feel her hair brush against my hand as she rested her head on the bed.

I was ready for this to end. I found being in a coma akin to torture.

"They are beautiful." Van Pelt announced as she cheerily sat down next to me. "It's day three and your state hasn't improved, but I'm not going to let it discourage me. You're a fighter." She furthered confidently. "You probably want an update on our colleagues. Well, Lisbon has been having a hard time dealing with this whole thing. Jane had to convince her to take a week off work. We all think she should stay off the job until you recover because she's not in a good state of mind." She explained solemnly. "She's not really angry anymore… just sad. I'm not sure which one worries me more. Rigsby's trying to be more optimistic, but he's failing miserably." She admitted. I could feel her shift in her seat. "He bought you some Valentine's Day chocolates, but I think he ate half of them." Van Pelt told me with the hint of a laugh in her voice. "Here's the rest though if you get hungry." I heard her set something down on my nightstand. "Jane's still quiet. It's really weird and it scares me a little. He talks, but he's not playing mind tricks or making observations or doing anything he usually does. I don't think he's even left the hospital… or slept for that matter." Van Pelt's voice was consumed by concern and I found it touching that she cared so deeply about her friends. "I know he hasn't visited you yet, but I think he's just trying to get his head around all this." She admitted, but I heard a note of uncertainty in her statement. She was silent as she considered what to say next. "As soon as you're better, we'll all go out to dinner and talk about theories and suspects with all of this behind us." She continued hopefully. Somehow she kept her voice upbeat and hid the lingering notes of grief in her voice. "I'll even pay." She added. "Get better. We miss you." She stood up, leaned over, and gave me a light kiss on the cheek. "I miss you." I never really noticed what a sweet person Van Pelt was. Actually, I was learning a lot about my friends and seeing sides of them that I'd never witnessed before.

I had a headache.

The constant beeping was driving me over the edge. I would give anything for it to stop.

I found I was blacking out less, so when I was 'awake,' I would focus my thoughts on connecting with different parts of my body, like my fingers and toes. If I could concentrate hard enough I could feel the sheets and the bedding and even the air circulating through the room from the air conditioner. "Hey," Rigsby announced as he opened the door and quickly stepped into the room. He walked towards my bed and I felt him grab my arm and shake it. Then my arm fell limply onto the bed. "Just checking." He commented, disappointed. I then heard the rustling of paper as he sunk down into the seat. "You're in the Sunday paper. On the front page actually." He explained. "You got a lot of fan mail, your apartment was overflowing with letters when I stopped by to get you some clothes." He continued, hoping I would like the attention. I wasn't really sure what to think. To be honest, I was less concerned with the fan mail and more preoccupied with my inability to communicate and my throbbing head. "I brought you a black jacket, a white shirt, and some black pants for your big debut. You know, once you wake up." Apparently Van Pelt's optimism was rubbing off on him. "Hang in there."

Jane visits in the next chapter. This story is almost finished. One or two more chapters to go!