Jane blinked. He whipped his head around and took in a deep breath at the sight of his dear friend and colleage, Cho. He noticed the determination and concern creased into the face of the man. He followed his tensed arms to the gun, and followed the barrel to the skull of Red John. He watched the killer grip the knife tightly, a new smirk spreading across his face.

Jane could not digest the scene fast enough to warn Cho, and looked on in horror as Red John ducked underneath the gun, turned, and threw the knife haphazardly into Cho's side. Even with his training to withstand pain, Cho instinctively doubled over and dropped his gun as Red John nearly flew passed him out the door, knocking him onto the floor at Jane's feet.

"Cho!" Jane yelled as he watched the agent's white shirt and strong hands try to hold in the blood. The red stain spread quickly, and Cho, with broken breaths, held back his tears.

"Jane. Lisbon," he nearly grunted the names as he gathered his thoughts and shoved the pain from his mind. He slowly sat up, kneeling at Jane's side, and pulled one of his hands from his side to reach for the knife. He swiftly and carefully moved it to Jane's wrist and slid it under the ropes, letting the blade do the work. He dropped it as his body involuntarily trembled, and moved his hand back to his side.

"Cho, hang in there." Jane tried to talk calmly as he reached down for the knife and undid rope binding his other wrist. He knelt down infront of Cho and placed one hand on his shoulder, the other on his side, trying his best to help.

"Help Lisbon, " Cho commanded as he looked into Jane's eyes. Jane watched the agent swallowed hard and his eyes gloss over as the pain became unbearable; his eyes closed as he forced himself to stay conscious. Jane grunted and grabbed the knife, bounding to the bed and Lisbon's side. He looked up.

The Face. RED.

He forced himself to look down at Lisbon; he glanced at her neck. Blood.

"Jane." Lisbon's authoritative voice caught his attention again.

"I'm here," he managed to whisper as he shook the Face out of his mind. Its stare bored into his skull as his hands trembled. He lifted his empty hand to her neck and gingerly placed his fingers near the oozing scratch. He bit his chapped lips, his stomach turning at the sight of her soft skin injured so easily.

"Jane." Lisbon's voice trailed through his mind, sounding far away. "Hurry, Cho doesn't have much time." The urgency in her voice snapped him out of his stupor.

"I know," he said softly, his voice cracking. With the knife, he began working at the rope that bound her wrist to the bed. He took in a deep breath as the last strand broke against the blade. Lisbon sat up and and held her wrist, rubbing gently. As she moved, her scratch broke open, oozing down her chest. Jane stood uncomfortably watching the blood. He took another deep breath.

Blood. The smell filled his head like helium. It mercilessly intruded on the fading scent of his wife's perfume, the fleeting smell of her favorite fabric softener on the comforter and night gown, the vanilla spice air freshener that lingered in the walls.

"Jane?" Lisbon called to him. He had closed his eyes and rubbed them violently with his empty fingers hoping to conceal the relentless storm of emotions that flooded his mind and body.

"Right," he answered and opened his eyes. "The other rope." He took several long strides to the other side of the bed, staring at his feet to avoid eye-contact with the Face.

He took Lisbon's small ankle in his hand to keep it steady. He felt her flinch and realized his hands were icy.

"Sorry..." he quietly apologized for his cold hands. He knew his blood had gone cold and his body numb when Red John started his torture of Lisbon. He couldn't help it.

Jane worked on the rope as quickly as possible, his hands beginning to tremble under the stress of the situation. The rope came undone.

"Cho!" Lisbon spoke as she moved off the bed to his side. He collapsed under the pain. "Cell phone," she demanded.

"Pocket." Cho grunted. Jane had joined them, and reached into Cho's pocket, thick blood coating his hand as as he pulled the phone out. Blood. Jane's stomach reeled again as the sight and smell mixed.

His wife.

Daughter.

In the bed.

Drenched...

"Jane! Give me that phone." Lisbon snatched it out of his hands and dialed. "Yes, a man has been stabbed; a California Law Enforcement Agent is in need of immediate medical assistance... Patrick Jane residence, 9332 Chelan Cherry Lane. Sacramento. Yes, it's 916 555 3838... Okay." Lisbon hung up and looked at Cho. "They're on their way, just hang in there. You're going to be okay."

Jane looked at his hands.

Blood.

He looked away... his sight fell on the the Face. His eyes blurred.

RED.

*I hope you had as much of a good time reading this story as I had writing it. I'm not happy with the abrupt ending, but I don't really know what else to do... Any suggestions? I kind of want the reader to tie-up loose ends on their own...*