I DO NOT OWN THE MENTALIST!

"Take as long as you want," says the petite nurse who I know not the name of as she leaves me alone in the hospital room.

I take a deep breath as I cautiously approach the bed and stand looking at the prone body of my son. He wears a mask over his face so her can breath, if it wasn't for the gently beeping reassuring me he has a heartbeat I might think he was dead.

I allow myself to sigh sadly as I spy a chair in the corner of the room, I go over and drag it to the bed ignoring the irksome sound it makes, alot like nails on a chalkboard. Focusing my thoughts I sit cautiously down onto the chair and shift uncomfortably feeling unnerved.

I glance at my son, he is sunk deep into the huge pillow most of his face is covered by the mask but his black hair normally so neat is in total disarray. His eyes are closed and deep dark rings beneath them mar the pale skin. I take another deep shuddering breath and let it out as a tear escapes my eye.

I sit there for a long while simply staring at him. I feel so guilty, all of this is my fault. I calm that frantic thought train I do not need that right now, I need to be strong and pray he wakes up. I reach out tentatively and grip his limp hand lying on the bed.

His hand is cold, so cold and it does not even react to my touch. I ignore this as I grasp his hand tightly in my own, I am not a good mother but at least I can be here now. Even if he might not ever know, he might not ever wake up.

"Sometimes talking to them helps," the nurse says as she reappears to check on him, I look at her dubiously as she leaves before turning back to my son. There is more silence for awhile before I finally convince myself it is a good idea to speak.

"Hi Julian," I whisper nervously, he does not move but then I didn't expect him too, "its me, Mom here," I gulp guiltily, I'd often discouraged him from calling me that, "how are you doing? Well I know how you're doing... you're just kind of lying there... I wish you'd wake up. It feels stupid talking to you like this, its like I'm talking to myself or something.

I bet you think it's stupid I'm here now when I've treated you so horribly your whole life. I think its stupid anyway but I wouldn't rather be anywhere else, I could lose you and it scares to shit out of me to be honest. I know that sounds stupid too but I guess I always thought you were invincible.

I know how stupid that sounds, I feel stupid saying it but I suppose I am stupid. Really I am. You've always been a good kid, smart, kind, loving... anything a parent could ask for but I turned you away every single time and look where we are now? Sorry doesn't even begin to make things right.

My Mom was a great Mom, she was just the best but some drunken kid stole her from me. My Dad lost it after that, he just drank and drank and drank. He didn't work, he didn't look after us, all he did was drink himself into oblivion but before he reached that he'd get violent, he'd beat me and my brothers.

I always tried to protect them of course, even though it hurt. I tried to protect my Dad too, I never told anyone he was an abusive alcoholic in case they arrested him. I hated him though, as much as I loved him I also hated the guts of what he'd become, that's why its so odd how much like him I am.

Parents are supposed to protect their kids... I tried to protect my Mom, my Dad, my brothers, my friends, your father, the general public but I should have tried to protect you, but no matter what I did or do I just wind up making things worse for you, making your life even harder than it already is.

I often wonder how different things would be if Patrick was still alive. Yes I'm talking about your father wake up and listen, such a shock I know. It's just painful to talk about him, he stole my heart, broke it and then died. I love him so much still... but it still hurts what he did.

There's someone else I have to mention here, Red John. Red John was a serial killer, he went around torturing and killing woman after he was done he used to draw a smiley face on the wall in the victim's blood. I don't know if you know any of this or not but I'm going to tell you anyway.

Your father worked as a fake psychic on this TV show, don't ask me the name of it I don't remember, but basically it was a popular show and he also used to consult with the police, including CBI, to help catch killers with his amazing skills. But then everything went wrong for him.

He was asked a question about how he was helping the police to catch Red John and him being such an arrogant... ass he mocked the guy on live TV! As you can imagine Julian, Red John was not happy he was downright pissed off so in revenge he killed Patrick's wife and daughter.

After the first moment he laid eyes on the note Red John left him he wanted revenge. All he cared about, all he thought about was hunting down Red John and making him die slowly and painfully like he'd done with Patrick's family. To do this he needed access to the case-file.

That was how he ended up as the CBI's pain in the ass consultant attached to my team. Despite his downright wacky plans and cocky arrogant demenor he was actually good at finding the bad guy, he was an asset to the CBI and to my team. We were a good team.

But at some point I realized I had fallen in love with him. Yes I know in love with Patrick Jane, ha! No but really, I did love him. I loved with all my heart, my soul, I loved him more than I'd ever loved anyone or anything. With his brilliant powers of observation it was inevitable he'd notice.

That was when he told me he loved me too. I was happy, so, so, so unbelievably happy. I had the perfect job and the perfect man and the perfect team... obviously happiness doesn't last and before long my perfect world would come crashing down around me and I'd be left with this... wasteland.

And it was all thanks to bloody Red John and Patrick's selfish vengeful desires. Oh Julian the unfairness of it all just makes me want to weep! I still don't know why he could do that to me, I just don't know..."

I force myself to composure, crying never helps anyone let alone when I'm supposed to be being strong for my son. I take another deep breath to calm myself and find surprisingly I want to carry on with my tale, I want to talk about it for once...