A/N: Thanks to everyone who sticks around for more of this story! Reviews are always appreciated.

Weller and Zapata go to see Erik Tidemore's girlfriend, Elizabeth. She's a preschool teacher who agrees to meet with them during the first recess of the day. She meets them at the door of Little Barrow School, and shows them into the teachers' lounge.

Zapata studies the woman as Weller prepares his questions. Elizabeth is short, with shiny dark hair. She's dressed comfortably in a shirtwaist dress decorated with pencils, apples, letters, and numbers. She looks a little apprehensive, but puts a reassuring smile on her face as they sit down across from her. Zapata decides Elizabeth is probably a great teacher.

"Good morning," Weller says. "Thank you for meeting with us so early."

"Thank you for coming all this way," Elizabeth says. "You mentioned on the phone this was something about Erik?"

"Yes," Weller says. "While working on an unrelated case, we came across information that led us to Mr. Tidemore's murder case. During our investigation, we received a phone call from Erik's sister, who said that she… had some video footage we needed to see."

He motions to Zapata, who takes out her tablet. Weller shows the surveillance footage from Erik's apartment to Elizabeth, who watches it with a solemn, somewhat sad, expression on her face.

"I'm sorry," she says, when the video is over. "I just… I haven't seen Erik's apartment in so long. Even on this video, it still makes me… miss him."

"It's all right," Zapata says.

"When we spoke to Leslie, she said that only two people would know the code to enter that case - Erik, or you. So I want to ask you, straight out - were you in Erik's apartment on Tuesday night?"

"No," Elizabeth says. "I was at parent conferences. I was here all night, until about eight o'clock. I saw parents from three-thirty until seven-thirty, and then I worked for a half hour with another teacher on the Halloween program."

"Can we get some names and contact information to verify that?" Weller asks.

"Of course," Elizabeth says. "I'll… give you that before you leave."

"Do you know of anyone else who would have access to Erik's collectible cases?" Zapata pulls the tablet back towards her.

Elizabeth thinks about this. "Unless someone changed the codes… no. It was just me and him."

"Did you live there with him?"

She nods. "Yes, for about a year. We'd talked about getting our own place together, but… it didn't happen."

"Do you know how easy it would be to change the codes on a door like that?"

"I don't have any idea. I'm not good with computers. That was Erik's area of expertise. I just liked helping him arrange all the collectibles. He said I had an eye for color and form," Elizabeth says.

"Did you have any particular connection to the statue that was taken?"

"I like Scarlet Witch, but no, that particular statue isn't one of mine."

"Wait. You still have action figures there?"

"They were our figurines, I guess," Elizabeth says with a shrug.

"Didn't you want them back?" Zapata asks.

"Leslie was… she was really broken up after Erik died. I didn't want to intrude on her grief by asking for things back," Elizabeth answers. "And it's just been too long."

"I'm sure she'd be glad to talk to you," Weller says. "She spoke very fondly of you earlier."

Elizabeth smiles. "I really liked Leslie. It would be nice to talk to her again."

"Leslie mentioned that the statue was commissioned specifically for Erik. Do you know if it had any great value?"

"Just to him," Elizabeth says.

"Can you think of anyone who would want to take it? For any reason?"

"The only people who knew how much those things meant to him were me and his sister," Elizabeth says. "And since Leslie has access to the apartment… and I wouldn't ever steal anything from Erik, even now that he's gone… I can't really comprehend why anyone would take anything from there."

"Did you and Erik have friends we could get in touch with, just to see if they might have information?" Weller asks.

Elizabeth nods. "There were a few couples we were friendly with, and he had some guys from work who formed, like, a boys' gang. They would go to conventions together. I can get you their contact info."

"Great," Weller says. He hands her a card. "If there's anything else you think of that might help us, we'd really appreciate it."

Elizabeth takes the card and looks up at Weller. "What do you think the odds are, of finding his killer, this long after the murder?"

"I can't really say," Weller replies. "We're not even sure if this will lead to any conclusion to Erik's case, but we want to follow all our leads."

"And the other case? The one you were working on when you found out it was tied to Erik?"

Weller, thinking of the rescue from the bread factory, can only say, "We made some very impressive progress on it yesterday."

"Well, that's good. If Erik and what happened to him could be helpful to someone in any way, I think I might feel a little better about it," Elizabeth says. "I miss him so much. Every day. He was… so kind. So generous. Such a wonderful man. I loved him."

"We're sorry for your loss," Zapata tells her, and touches her hand gently.

"Thank you," Elizabeth says, and she smiles.

The bell rings, and the hallway fills with the sound of children laughing and running. It sounds joyful, and it's somewhat refreshing as Weller and Zapata leave to head back to the world of murder and deception.

Jane struggles to wake Patterson; not even the crying baby rouses Patterson from slumber. Jane puts her hand to Patterson's forehead and finds it blazing with heat. "Hey, c'mon," she says, shaking Patterson.

"Hmm," Patterson says distantly.

Mo, clinging to Jane's shirt, lets out an indignant howl.

"Shh, shh, it's all right," Jane says, and she puts Mo against her shoulder. "Patterson, open your eyes, okay?"

"Hmm," Patterson says again, and sluggishly she tries. Her eyes crack open and she immediately recoils from the light. "No…"

"Focus on me," Jane says. "How do you feel?"

"... hurts," Patterson says, and she puts her hand over her eyes.

Jane quickly goes into the living room and puts Mo in the swing, turning it on. Mo cries for a few more seconds and then relaxes into the swing's gentle motions. Jane goes back into the bedroom. Patterson's eyes are closed again.

"Patterson, this might hurt," Jane says, and she reaches for Patterson's shoulder. She tugs down the T-shirt Patterson wore to bed and starts carefully removing the gauze and tape covering the bullet wound.

"No," Patterson moans, and she tries to push herself away from Jane.

"I think your wound might be infected," Jane says. "I need to take a look at it."

"No," Patterson repeats, and gets one hand up to feebly slap at Jane.

Patterson's entire body is pulsing with heat, and when Jane gets the bandaging off, she sees the source of that boiling throbbing - the shoulder wound is bright red, seeping drainage, with reddish streaks emanating from it. Combined with Patterson's lethargy, it's a very serious situation.

"Patterson, open your eyes for me," Jane says, a little louder than before.

"I'm just… a little… tired," Patterson says, and tries to pull the covers back up over her.

Jane grabs her phone from the bedside table and dials Weller. "Hey, got a situation here."

"What's up?"

"Patterson's… distinctly out of it. Her wound looks infected. I need to get her to a hospital."

"We can be there in five minutes," Weller says. "We were just on our way back from interviewing Erik Tidemore's former girlfriend."

"Okay. I'll get the baby ready."

"Five minutes," Weller says, and he hangs up.

Jane scoops Moira out of the swing, changes her, and despite hearing Patterson's usual protestations in her head, sticks a pacifier in Moira's mouth. She slings Moira into her car seat carrier and turns back to Patterson. "Hey, come on," Jane says, and gently slaps Patterson's cheek. "Open your eyes."

"Hmm," Patterson says.

There's a knock at the front door, and Jane hurries over to admit Weller and Zapata. "Hey," she greets them briefly.

"Patterson?" Weller says. Jane indicates the bedroom.

Zapata takes Moira. "I'll hang out with Mo," she says. "You just worry about Patterson."

Weller has Patterson up in his arms and back out in the corridor before Jane can even process what's happening. She sees Patterson's head lolling against Weller's arm and panic seizes her.

"Jane," Weller says, his voice steady. "She's going to need some clothes, and her ID. Things like that."

"I'll get that," Jane says. Her lips feel rubbery and her movements are strange and wooden. Somehow she goes around the apartment, filling a backpack.

Weller nods at her. "Okay. Ready?"

"Is she…?"

"She's still breathing," Weller says, which is somehow worse than anything Jane could come up with.

She's not sure how she's still upright as they leave the apartment.

Zapata walks in with Mo's carrier to find Reade and Mayfair in Patterson's lab. "Where is everybody?" she asks them.

"Jeremy came down with the stomach flu and somehow passed it around the entire place," Mayfair says. "We sent them all home."

"How'd you end up with the baby?" Reade asks.

"Weller's on his way to the ER with Patterson and Jane," Zapata says. She sets Mo on top of the closest table, letting the carrier rock gently as the sleeping baby sighs. "Patterson went unresponsive this morning."

"What?" Mayfair turns.

"Yeah," Zapata says. "We were on our way back from talking to Elizabeth Baer."

"Did you get anything from her?"

"A list of names - Erik's friends," Zapata says. "And the feeling that she truly misses him."

"Think of how shocked she's going to be when she finds out he might still be alive," Reade says.

"Oh, yeah, we definitely didn't go into that," Zapata says. "Hey, did we ever get anything off the bulletin board from Erik's apartment?"

"Not yet," Mayfair says. "That's what Jeremy and Alison were working on before… the illness hit."

"That's what it looked like our mysterious action-figure-stealing thief was after in the video," Zapata says. "Sure wish we could figure it out."

"We may not be Jeremy and Alison… or Patterson, but we can give it a shot," Reade says.

"You two get to work. I'm going to call Agent Weller and see if he needs anything," Mayfair says.

She takes the baby with her to her office, dialing Weller as she goes.

"Weller."

"What's going on?"

"Patterson was extremely lethargic," Weller says. He sounds tense. "She had a high fever. Jane couldn't wake her up. They're running some tests on her right now, but it looks like she's got an infection in her shoulder wound, and she's dehydrated."

"Are they going to keep her?"

"I don't know," Weller answers. "That'll probably depend on what they find out after the tests."

"That makes sense."

"Do you want me to come back to the office?"

"No, I think we've got things handled here. I think Jane would probably appreciate having someone with her."

"Yeah, especially since they won't let her back with Patterson," Weller says with a rueful chuckle.

He looks over at Jane, who's holding an old copy of People magazine so tightly that her knuckles are white. "I'm going to let you go," he tells Mayfair.

"Check in soon and let me know how Patterson is," Mayfair says.

"I will."

Before Weller can say anything to Jane, a doctor approaches them. "Are you the next of kin for Ms. Patterson?"

"I am," Jane says, and she stands up.

"You're Jane, I'm guessing," the doctor says. "She's asking for you."

"Can I… go back and be with her?"

"She's being rather persistent. I think there might be consequences if I came back without you."

Jane follows the doctor back to an exam room, and as he's about to open the door, something hits the inside of it with a loud clang. The doctor jumps back, surprised. Jane waits a few beats, then opens the door.

Patterson whirls around. She's clad in a hospital gown that's falling off her shoulders, a look of distress on her face, and there's a plastic pan in her hand, held as though she's going to throw it. There's a nurse to the side of the room, shielding what looks like IV insertion equipment with her body; her eyes are on Patterson, widened with the slightest bit of alarm.

"Hey," Jane says calmly. "It's okay, Patterson."

"They… they want to stick…" Patterson blinks. Her lips are dry and her eyes look reddish. She seems confused.

"They want to help you," Jane says. She walks closer to Patterson, until she's near enough to take the plastic pan from Patterson's grip. "They need to give you medicine to help you."

"I don't want to be here."

"I know," Jane says. "I know."

She gets a few steps closer to Patterson, who's wobbling on her feet now, teeth chattering, and gently puts her arms around Patterson. "Can we sit down?"

Patterson nods. "'M so… tired."

"I know," Jane repeats.

Patterson's knees give out and Jane catches her, lifting her onto the gurney. "Okay. Okay, just… here, sit down."

She stands in front of Patterson, and Patterson rests her head on Jane's shoulder.

"Can they put in the IV now?" Jane asks.

"Yeah," Patterson says, the one word slurred.

"Okay."

"Will you… stay with me?"

"Of course I will." Jane looks over at the nurse and nods.

The nurse quickly puts in the IV into the back of Patterson's hand, and the doctor comes in a few minutes later to look at Patterson's wound. By that time Jane has Patterson leaning back against her as she rests against the head of the bed. Patterson's eyes are glassy, at least when she can keep them open, and she's muttering things as she picks at the hospital gown.

"It's infected," the doctor pronounces after a few minutes. "We'll need to open it back up and drain it."

"Is that going to be painful?" Jane asks.

"We'll give her something nice for it," the doctor says. "She shouldn't feel anything."

He excuses himself to get his supplies, and Jane leans Patterson back once more, kissing her on the temple. "It's going to be okay."

"Mo?" Patterson asks, turning into the kiss.

"She's with Zapata," Jane tells her. "She's okay."

"She's so good," Patterson says.

Jane isn't sure whether she's talking about Moira or Zapata, so she settles for saying, "She sure is."

Whatever painkillers they give Patterson take effect almost immediately, and Jane just holds her sleeping form while the doctor opens up the incision and flushes the wound, then inserts a drainage tube that he sutures into place.

"We'll give her the first round of antibiotics here," the doctor tells Jane. "I'd like to keep her for observation overnight, and if things go well, we can take the drainage tube out in the morning."

"She's not going to like that," Jane says. "She's not really big on doctors. It's nothing personal."

"It never is," the doctor says with a smile. "I'll let her rest while we get things prepared for her to be transferred upstairs."

He leaves. Jane shifts Patterson slightly to take out her phone and text Weller.

They're going to keep her overnight.

Do you need anything from me?

We'll need some stuff from home.

Give me a list. I'll get it.

And somebody to take care of Mo.

You know that goes without saying, right?

Jane smiles.

Against her, Patterson groans. "Jane," she says, and grips down into Jane's pant legs.

"It's all right," Jane says. "I've got you."

"We've looked at this every single way I can think of," Zapata says, speaking a bit louder to be heard over Mo's cries. She bounces the baby against her as she walks back and forth across Patterson's lab, keeping her eyes on the numbers and letters of Erik Tidemore's bulletin board. "This is what your mom does, right? She talks the cases with you, and somehow that helps?"

Mo just sobs.

"I know, I'm not your mom," Zapata says. "I'm sorry. Reade's making you a bottle, though, and I bet that'll help. Until then, can you help me figure out this clue?"

She pats Mo's back, taking another look at the letters and numbers on the top-most Post-It on the board. "Z-one-B-four-eight-six-T-L-zero. Let's see… substitution ciphers… combination locks… I can't think of anything that combines letters and numbers like this."

"VIN numbers," Reade offers, coming into the lab with a bottle in his hand. "License plates."

Zapata settles Mo into the crook of her elbow and reaches for the bottle. Mo accepts it, sucking greedily. "It's too long to be a license plate number."

"Unless it's a foreign car."

"Why would Erik Tidemore have a foreign car's license plate number?"

"We don't really know that much about him," Zapata answers. "He could be a collector."

"He is a collector, but I don't think cars interested him that much," Reade says. He pulls up a car registration database and inputs the letter-number combination. It comes up empty.

"We're just coming up short," Zapata says with a sigh.

"There's still his work friends," Reade says. "We can check into them."

"I feel like this guy is more questions than answers."

Mo drinks down her bottle and falls asleep. Zapata puts her in the miniature crib in Mayfair's office and covers her gently with a blanket.

Mayfair arrives a moment later, Weller behind her. "Patterson's staying overnight in the hospital," he tells them. "Jane's staying with her for right now. Where are we on the case?"

"Honestly, no further than we were this morning," Reade says. "We're going to follow up with Erik Tidemore's friends and coworkers, but after that…"

"Let's go home early," Mayfair suggests. "I think we're all getting a little blocked."

It's an offer met with absolutely no protests, and they leave together, Weller taking Mo with him. She sleeps, though, and he makes the journey back to Patterson's apartment without any interruptions.

"You're a pretty wonderful girl, Mo," Weller murmurs. "But then again, so is your momma."

"No!" Patterson lurches upright out of sleep, yanking herself away from Jane. In a flash IV tubes and the drain from her wound go haywire, and she looks down at them, hands rising to pull.

"Easy, easy!" Jane says, and grabs Patterson's hands. "You're all right. You need these."

"I need to go home," Patterson says, eyes wide, and she tries to get off the bed. "I can't stay here!"

"You're okay," Jane says, squeezing Patterson's hands. "I promise. You need to stay here - your wound is infected and you have a very high fever."

"No," Patterson says, her breathing picking up. "No, I don't want to be here! I need to go!"

She makes it up off the bed, yanking her hands away from Jane, and starts wobbling towards the door.

Jane hurries after her, and wraps her arms around Patterson from behind, gently stopping her. "It's okay. You're safe. I promise."

"I need to go," Patterson repeats, and tries to jerk away from Jane. "I need… Mo… and…"

Her entire body is shaking, and Jane sees tears stream down her face.

"Shh," Jane murmurs, and turns Patterson towards her, hugging her tightly. "You're sick. Stay here and let the doctors help you, okay?"

Patterson lets out something like a low wail, and just cries. Jane rocks her back and forth, back and forth, and tries to murmur things soft and reassuring, which she's not sure are helping at all.

At last she hears Patterson's sobs stop, and Patterson whispers, "Why are you so good to me?"

"You're one of those people who are easy to love," Jane answers, and she gently kisses Patterson's forehead.

"Don't leave."

"I told you I wouldn't, and I meant it."

"Okay," Patterson says softly, and she lets Jane lead her back to the bed, lets Jane pull up the covers and settle down next to her as they do so many nights at home, and it takes a little of the edge off as she woozily closes her eyes once more.

And Jane holds her hand, and listens to her breathe, and fulfills her promise. She doesn't leave.