A/N: I'm not sure what you can expect, but this is how the seventh season should maybe start.
Disclaiming the fact that the mentalist is not in my possession. Currently.
Patrick Jane is sitting up on a hospital bed, more dreary and confused than ever. His arms are restrained and there is white all around him: white floor, white ceiling, white lights, white curtains, etc. This makes him nervous. And edgy, as if he had just awoken from a coma and is still in the mental asylum. As if his whole life thus far had been a lie. As if he never joined the CBI and red john was still alive. As if he never met the team. Either of them. As if Teresa never existed. She was only a figment of his extensive imagination.
He sweats heavily, beginning to pant. He has shortness of breath, realizing the last thing he'd done was find his wife and daughter brutally murdered. He hadn't actually moved on. He was imagining. Nothing had actually happened. He stares at the curtains, gauging whether or not he should tell Sophie about what he had experienced.
Normally, they'd be off the walls that he'd awoken. He must've been in that coma for at least ten years. Twelve, or thirteen possibly. How was he to tell time in a coma? Wayne Rigsby. And his son. Ben. Wayne married Grace and a little later, Patrick had killed Red John. No more terrorizing. But, no. With Jane in a coma, Red John was still alive.
This is not good. Kimball Cho. The stoic agent. A good friend. The bosses pass. Virgil Minelli, Madeleine Hightower, JJ LaRoche, Luther Wainwright, Gale Bertram, Dennis Abbot. Does the Blake Association exist? Is he still continuing this charade as a fake psychic? Is that the only reason he is still here?
Teresa! Teresa Lisbon never existed! Impossible! How can he fall so much in love with a person he created? Well, he doesn't know he created her. No! It can't be! It just can't be! Monitor sounds begin to echo and a doctor, fully in white, appears through the curtain in a hurry.
"Are you… Pat"
"Patrick Jane, yes." He answers. "Where's Lisbon?"
"The country?"
"No, my partner." Jane whines, figuring he was right. She doesn't exist. Still, he piles on. "My so-called boss. My best friend. My girlfriend!"
The man searches through his clipboard then stops to read a list. "Nope, sorry. No 'Lisbon' on these sheets. Get some rest. Your main doctor will be in to see you soon."
Patrick waits until the doctor leaves. He knows for a fact Lisbon is his number one emergency call. If she isn't on any of the papers, he must've made her up. A bad feeling surges through his veins. The newest love of his life has slipped through his fingers. They had been building up emotional, physical, and all sorts of tension over the course of a decade. Over a decade. And now she's gone. But she never even existed.
He grabs the loose end in his mouth once more. He tugs hard, until his left arm turns a bad shade. However, Jane wants to punish himself for believing in his own manufactured illusions. It isn't possible with the bounty of anesthesia blasting throughout his body. He wriggles his limp limb out and waits for the blood to start pumping more naturally. Shouldn't the alarms be going off from the sensors in these… well, it's been over a decade. They're probably defective by now. He successfully picks the lock for the rest of his entrapment.
He locates a bag of clothes. It looks like the clothes he wore in his dream. His comatose illusion. Maybe more of it was real? He gets dressed, thinking about the team. Well, just because I never met them doesn't mean they weren't real. Maybe I heard about them over the radio. Or maybe one of them is my nurse. That would make sense. I wonder if Teresa is with Pike now. Or Greg. Walter? Jeff? Wow. She attracts a lot of guys. Wait. How would I know? She's just an illusion, right? Oh. What if I imagined Red John, too? I don't even know how old I am. I could still be a kid. In a coma because of some fight at the carnival. Or because of my dad.
He situates himself and looks through an assortment of papers at the other end of the room, hoping for hints as to what the date is. Instead, all he finds is that he is in Galveston, Texas. He stops by a neighboring room… a sleeping man with a toupee on his table. Patrick snags the rug and a pair of reading glasses and immediately blends in. He almost makes it to the exit doors when a hand catches him. A woman's hand, he can tell. He puts on his best Texan accent, hoping to fool her.
"Ain't ya'll got nuthin better a'do thanna be stoppin' us suthern foke?"
"If only ya'll suthern foke twern't so dadgum cute." She answers back in perfect drawl.
Aside from the twang, Patrick recognizes the voice. All worries dissolve and Patrick remembers so much in an instant. He excitedly twirls around, picking up said girl at her hips. He spins her around a quick ninety degrees then devours her in an embracing kiss. Once they finally depart, Patrick stares at her fondly but confusingly.
"They said you weren't on the registry."
"What'd you call me? To the doctor?"
"Your name." He tilts his head to the side. "Lisbon."
"Ah." She smiles, removing his heinous disguise. "And what about 'Teresa'?"
He hangs his head in disbelief. How could he have been so foolish?
"How long was I under?"
"Four days." She cringes. "I've never left the hospital. Your sprained ankle turned into a broken ankle, and the doctors found a whole mess of problems. You should listen to your doctors. Patrick."
"Only for you, Teresa." He smiles. "Just… never leave me."
She smiles into a kiss. "Never."
So, that was my one-shot twist… and an alternate look on the opening sequence of the new season. I can't wait to watch. Reviews and PMs are very helpful. Write me if you liked it, didn't like it or want more. Thanks!