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Lisbon's POV

2.30am. Crime scene reviewed and the coroner on standby to remove Miriam Gottleib's body. A quiet and understated man who works efficiently without getting in the way. And a very pleasant change from Brett Partridge. I must say that I'm glad.

"OK everyone, let's call it at a night." I look round at my team. None of them ever complain but I can see that they're whacked. Cho has distanced himself slightly, with the thousand yard stare that he has when he doesn't want to be disturbed. Rigsby is pushing himself along on autopilot. Van Pelt is trying to hide it but her eyes are wide, fixed and a little bit glassy. And as for Jane…

Jane? Where is he? Looking up and down the road, there's no sign of him and he hasn't crawled into the SUV and curled up in the passenger seat. Nor the back. Continuing on a little further, I round the corner and find him. He's slumped against the warehouse wall with his knees drawn up and his head lolling on his right forearm. His left arm has flopped by his side. He's fast asleep.

For a moment, I stand and watch over him. The sight of him like that, completely out, makes me want to reach out to him, shield him with my body and protect him from the world. I taste blood. I must have bitten my lower lip. I worry at it with my teeth and tongue whilst I try to think.

What should I do? I don't want to wake him. I'd like to settle him down more comfortably, wrap him in a blanket and watch over him till daybreak. More than any of us, he needs this. He's been running on exhaustion for so long now. It's easy to forget just how fragile he is sometimes.

And after the last few hours…

But I can't move him without waking him. Not even Rigsby and Cho together could manhandle him to the vehicle without disturbing him. And he needs to be somewhere warm and safe, not propped up by cold concrete.

"Jane", I reach out and gently shake his shoulder. "Jane, come on, wake up."

He moans and shifts, moving away from my touch.

I try again, a little more forcefully, "Jane, wake up."

He opens his eyes to half mast and peers at me blearily.

"Lisbon?"

I take advantage of his stupor to try to move him without him fully rousing. "We need to get back to the SUV. I want you to come with me."

I pull on his elbow, my other hand on his shoulder, as I coax him to stand and position his arm around my neck, gripping his hand with one of mine. My other grasps at the small of his back, burrowing into his jacket and vest. He's a bit unwieldy like this, but it's OK, we can manage.

Getting him settled in the passenger seat, and reaching across to secure his seatbelt, I'm relieved to see that Jane is falling back into his slumber. He's out again by the time I throw the space blanket from the first aid kit over him. Closing the door against him carefully, I make my way to the driver's seat and lock the doors, pushing the key into the ignition, and placing my Glock in the side pocket. I let myself sink into my seat, head thrown back and eyes closed, as I come to a stop.

The feel of something poking my arm startles me back to alertness. I shiver against the cold now seeping into my body though my thin jacket. The sky is lightening in the pre-dawn and Jane is staring at me with a slight smirk on his face. I must have dozed.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself," I reply, scrubbing the sleep from my eyes. "What time is it?"

"Time we change places so I can drive." He tosses off the blanket and leaps out of the vehicle looking far too perky for this time of morning. The next thing I know, he's at my door, pushing and cajoling me into the passenger seat and wrapping me in the blanket. It's hot with his warmth and I shudder for a different reason.

The nap I must have taken has left me confused. I shake my head, trying to get things straight. "So did that all happen?"

He looks sombre. "If by 'that', you mean the Eileen Turner case, Sean Barlow creeping you out, Miriam Gottleib's death and the DVD from our mutual friend, then yes, I'm afraid it did."

I was afraid he'd say that. For a short while I'd almost believed it was a nightmare.

"Look Lisbon, I'm taking you back to your place and we'll grab some take out for breakfast. I know you need your caffeine and I'd kill for a good cup of tea. Then you can sleep another couple of hours and get changed before work. "

"Mmm." The thought of a giant cup of steaming coffee is beginning to make a few of the synapses spark. I'll need a small vat of it to fully function though.

Jane fiddles with the radio, setting it to a jazz station that we both like. As he drives, for once at a sensible speed, I stare out of the window and try to get a grip.

Red John. Sean Barlow. Lorelei Martins.

Seven names. Seven.

And all hell about to break loose.

One thing is certain. Red John knows that we know – at least roughly – who he is. And the threat is against all of us. The whole team. And not only that. Jane and I are going to need all the help we can get and there's only Cho, Rigsby and van Pelt that I trust with this. I'm going to tell them. About the case, about the DVD and the names, everything.

I'm sure Jane will fight me on this. And I need to be fully caffeinated before I start on about it with him. But my mind is made up.

We need to talk about this and we need to do it now.