Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist, or the song.
Author's note:
:3 I got this song stuck in my head for the whole day. Apparently, writing it out as a story managed to clear my head. Enjoy!
~*~
Chapter 1 – Mad World
Mad World – Adam Lambert
The
dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I ever had
I find it
hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in
circles
It's a very very,
Mad world, Mad world
If Patrick Jane would say anything about his dreams, he would say that they were mostly all nightmares. Every night, his dreams would repeat. The long drive home from work that night, the climb up the stairs. The satisfaction he had felt for being successful for the night. He couldn't wait to scoop his precious daughter up and cuddle her to sleep. He wanted to hold his wife, dance with her under the moonlight, kiss her till the sun rose. He loved – still loves– them both dearly. Smiling, he was smiling as he walked towards the door of his bedroom. He could still feel the dread that filled him when he had seen the note stuck on the wooden surface of the door. Sometimes, if he was lucky, something or someone would wake him up before he reached out for the door knob. Most of the time, however, he could never escape from the sight of the red painted smiling face that marked Red John, mocking him from the white wall over where his broken wife and daughter laid.
The worst dreams he had were those with his family still alive. Those times of happiness: the first time he had set eyes on his wife across the large dining room of his sponsor; the day she walked down the aisle in a flowing dress of white; the first time they made love in the light, only illuminated by the light of the full moon; the arrival of their daughter; the first birthday of their daughter; the day they had moved into the new house at Malibu; the times they ran around the beach during the summer. He hated those dreams, simply because they reminded him of what he had and would still have if he had not been so arrogant. If he had those dreams, he never wanted to wake up. Because waking up meant returning to the reality where he was alone.
He loved the dreams where he would die. If he died, it would be after or during the course where Red John was lying on the ground, abdomen split open. He would die happy then. All would be well, he would have found salvation. He could die in peace, knowing that he had finally reached his goal. Everything would have come to an end; he could finally go to his wife and daughter in Heaven. If he could go to Heaven, that is.
It was too bad he never said anything about his dreams to anyone. Not like anyone in the CBI unit cared anyway. They didn't talk about their personal lives; Lisbon had made that clear from Day 1. But if he could tell anyone, it would be Lisbon. She would care; at least, he thought she would. They had the same aim in life. To catch the 'bad people'. Her methods were so much more…legal than his, but they still had the same motive.
Maybe she would listen, if he was willing to share. Maybe he would tell her one day, when he couldn't keep it in anymore. He would pour out all his secrets and memories to her, if she would listen. There were already too many mad people in the world, and he wasn't ready to join them just yet.