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If you remember an episode with a mob boss and a golf course then you know to whom I refer. If you don't, then I haven't it spoiled for you.

Par 5, Tuesday

Before the sun rose, they drove into the woods close to Wente Vineyards Golf Course. "The boss said it was poetic."

"Right, whatever." They rolled him out of the van and took off.

Jane sniffed the cool flagrant farina of woods and wet flora.

Hey honey, you did it. You're alive. Go get help.

No, I can't leave you.

You have a new life. You're saving people. Don't throw that away.

Promise Pat.

No! I can't…

Please Pat, go find them. They will help you. They love you.

Now Patrick!

"Don't use that tone of voice with me, woman!" Jane grumbled.

He blinked at the harsh light filtering through the tress. Which way? A sign, is that a sign?

Reaching deep inside, finding strength, he got up on shaky legs and stumbled from the trees onto a grassy plane. It's too bright. I have to make it to the sign.

I still can't make out the sign. Closer, I need to get closer.

The early morning fog was clearing at the Wente Vineyards Golf Course. Grass and trees sparkled from the moisture of a new day. A distant figure lurched and stumbled, like a scene stolen from a zombie movie. The motion caught the eye of a grounds keeper. Even from here, Jacob could see that the man was dirty and his posture stooped. He watched as the man jerked and staggered determinedly toward a Tee Box sign. Great, another drunken vagrant lost among the posh grounds of the golf course. Jacob called 911 for assistance and waited for the ambulance and police.

Jane grabbed the sign, not believing what he saw. "Par 5?" The ground tumbled up to meet him. Par 5. Par 5. Yes, golf course. I'm at a golf course. Get to the Clubhouse and call a taxi. I can do this! Stand up man, get moving!

A uniformed officer arrived at the scene. Feeling no danger to himself, he approached the troubled suspect. The man was crawling as red stains soaked his shirt, hair matted in blood, bare feet moving in desperate purchase to stand. This is more than the typical trespass. The sounds of an approaching ambulance siren filled the air. A few steps away, Carlos recognized the man's profile and curly honey blond hair. Crap, all he needed was a Patrick Jane incident.

Jane continued his slow progress, wet clothes sticking to his body. He jerked up and found himself standing again. Every inch of his body protested as he lurched forward. Just… just keep moving. Carlos carefully approached the man. "Relax Mr. Jane. An ambulance will be here shortly."

Jane staggered toward to officer. "Where am I?" The contest between walking and talking was more than his mind could handle. Balance lost tossing him back into the wet cool grass. He tugged at a few blades, smelling the damp earth. His eyes closed. A light whisper fell from his lips. "Nice day."

One day Later

" Jane!" Lisbon held his hand watching him struggle, his body tense covered in perspiration, lost in a nightmare.

"Wake up Jane. You're having a bad dream." She squeezed his hand tightly.

"Ow, stop it."

Looking at his pale face and battered body, Lisbon couldn't help but to smile at his whiny voice.

"Come on Jane, snap out of it."

His eyes fluttered open. "Hospital? I'm in a damn hospital?"

"Yes, Jane, you're in a hospital. Who did you piss off this time?"

His weak voice replied, "You don't want to know." His eyes closed and then popped open.

"When can I leave?"

"When you can walk out."

His eyes closed and body relaxed.

Lisbon whispered softly. "Jane, you an ass."

She could barely make out his reply. Something like "yes, I know my love."

Fini

AN: I decided to end the story this way because it felt right. I've found Simon Baker (way too cute) is a distraction from the character, Patrick Jane. After reviewing season 1 and 2 (trying not to drool), I'm very curious about Patrick Jane. He has the darkness, depth, smarts, and humor that I love. I have more stories, half written, exploring the character and what makes him tick or tilt.