Disclaimer: I do not own the Mentalist, or any of the characters! William Blakes owns the poem The Tiger (that's the poem which Red John quotes in Red Sky in the Morning)

The strange choice of title will become clear soon, I promise!

Chapter One

Patrick Jane opened his eyes. He was in a dark room, and there seemed to be no window. It was at night, and there was an eerie silence. He glanced around, his eyes starting to adjust. The door was closed and it was clearly locked.

Patrick Jane sat up, and noticed several pieces of furniture, each placed around the room, complimenting the space. There was a single bedside lamp, with its shade tilted at an angle.

He looked down, and noticed that his hands were bound. Great. He continued to stare around, everything becoming even clearer. Suddenly, the lamp switched on, causing him to start, and turn around.

The light was shining at the wall, and slowly, a familiar red mark started to appear. It was as if an invisible force was painting it. It started from the top, curving down, creating a full circle. Two curved lines were drawn in the middle of the circle, soon followed by another curved line below them. The blood glistened, and dripped onto the wooden floor.

Patrick Jane remained rooted to the spot. He had seen illusions before, but he had been able to figure them out. This one remained impossible to fathom. He heard breathing, coming from behind him. It was the breath of a man, in his thirties, maybe early forties, and had the presence of a ghost. He must've been light on his feet for Patrick Jane not to notice him.

"Mr Jane! It has been a long time! My, how time does affect the face! Have you missed me?"

Jane gulped, but remained calm. He would not show him how he felt, that would make him weak.

"Mr Jane?"

Footsteps sounded behind him. Red John's mocking laugh rang out, striking fear deep inside Patrick Jane. A blade whistled through the air and came to rest at Jane's throat. Jane gasped, nervously glancing at the blade that was touching his throat. Red John twitched his wrist slightly, and the knife sliced his throat, only enough to cause him pain, not to fatally injure him.

"Only joking!" the knife was drawn back, away from Jane, "Why would I want to kill you? After all, it's what you want isn't it? You welcome death. You'd give anything just to escape from the world in which you live. So, I'm not going to do what you wish. I'm going to watch you suffer, making every single day of your miserable life that little bit more unbearable."

Patrick's blue eyes narrowed. Red John was uncanny at finding weaknesses in people, and using those weaknesses to his advantage. Kind of like me, hethought, suddenly very worried at how similar they really were.

"You are so close to finding me, Mr Jane. Yet so very far. You analyse every little detail, anything that you have. You remember everything that I say. You remember don't you, Mr Jane? Tiger, Tiger, burning bright, in the forests of the night, what immortal hand or eye-"

"-Could frame thy dreadful symmetry." Jane's lips uttered the words before he realised what he was saying.

"Yes! And you remember other things don't you? Like, for instance, when you discovered that your wife and child had been murdered. Slaughtered. Maimed. Destroyed. Whatever you want to call it. You remember every little detail. You drove home from work that fateful day. You stopped at a nearby gas station on your way. Maybe, if you hadn't been so careless with your fuel, you would have been able to stop me, and everything would be OK. You pulled up. You got out of the car, leaving the exquisite china doll you had bought for your daughter that very day in the car. How you spoiled that child. You went inside your apartment block; you climbed the stairs, barely glancing at the framed photographs of your perfect family on the wall. You were smiling faintly when you reached the top, obviously thinking of the beautiful wife and child that were inside. But then, you noticed the little message that I had pinned on the door. Can you remember what it said, Mr Jane? I know you can."

Jane blinked back the tears in his eyes. "Dear Mr Jane, I do not like to be slandered in the media, especially by a dirty money-grabbing fraud. If you were a real psychic instead of a dishonest little worm, you wouldn't need to open the door to know what I've done to-" He swallowed, tears pouring freely down his face, "-Your lovely wife and child."

"I told you that you would remember. You opened the door, to see my mark on your wall in your wife's blood, and their bodies lying motionless on the floor. Let me take you back to that night, Mr Jane."

"No..." Jane moaned, slowly losing control of his emotions, "NO!" he screamed, thrashing wildly. "NO, NO, NO!" Patrick Jane had broken down.

"Mr Jane..."

"LEAVE ME RED JOHN, BRING THEM BACK!"

"Hush now. Sleep..." The blade flashed past Jane's face, slicing his throat once more. "Sleep..."

Darkness swept over Patrick Jane, and filled his mind until it was an empty, black space...

So... What do you think? Please review if you have an opinion- good or bad! An update will be coming VERY soon (hopefully) lol.