Author's Note: My computer is full of fanfics, but I have barely posted anything in Fanficition (except for a similar to this, Fringe fanfic) since I turned fifteen. Now I'm almost twenty, and started watching (very late, I know) The Mentalist on the summer. And, like usual, my computer already has a folder full of works for the fandom—none of them really good and all of them in eternal progress.
Alas, I love drabbles, and I believe The Mentalist's strength is on its characters. They have lots to say, lots we have not seen, each of them a world on their own; a world we have to explore. So, finally tempted enough, I decided to start with a series of little drabble-ish pieces. Oh, if anyone notices grammar mistakes, let me know, please! English is so not my first language.
Now, now, sorry for the long intro! Without further ado, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist, but I wish I did. Maybe, if I tried hypnosis?
1. Frozen
To her—the grace now only in her name, a mocking reminder—the blue sky is a joke, and so are the smiles the whole team wears to Headquarters. That day was waking up from a sunny dream and (finally) falling into the Red John nightmare. Now, it's red all over, everywhere, in the air she breaths, her skin, her shaking hands and—it's this how Jane feels, every-day, every-night?
She tries to sleep.
But behind closed doors and bleeding eyelids, Craig's body still rests, lifeless, in the middle of the room, and her fingers still hold the smoking gun.