Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist, or any of the characters mentioned.
Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction for The Mentalist, and it's just a quick one shot that I wrote about Patrick and his daughter, Charlotte. I usually write Harry Potter fanfictions, I know, but the premiere of Season Four of The Mentalist aired today in New Zealand, and I'm feeling inspired. I apologise if any of the quotes (in italics) aren't completely correct, they're quoted from my vague memory of the finale of Season 3 and may have a couple of wording errors… but I really can't be bothered googling to check them. I also don't know if this is very good, as I said, I don't usually write non-Harry Potter related fanfictions… Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, please leave a review! Thanks!
They say it was wrong, what I did, that he was an innocent man. But is there such a thing as innocence, especially for a grown man? I am no saint; I've had dark times in my life, full of lies, death and despair. I was a con man, a deceiver, and I feel guilty for that. But when it comes to killing Timothy Carter, I have no regrets. I know that Lisbon sees me differently now, is cautious about what she says to me, less trusting. She's never trusted me completely; I've never given her reason enough to. Lisbon's a good person. 'Saint Teresa', but oh how she hates it when I call her that.
But if there ever was someone I could say was innocent, that would be Charlotte, with her curly blonde hair. My hair. Those sweet brown eyes, her mother's. You look at her and everything seems better, the sun is brighter, the clouds fade away. She was my light inside of me, changed me, made me a better person. What right did Red John have to take away her life? What right did Timothy Carter have, pretending to be Red John and talking about the murder of my own daughter?
"Your daughter, she smelt like strawberries and cream…"
Those words, whirling around in my head, repeating over and over… and I begin to understand what it feels like to have someone mess with my thoughts, my emotions.
"Probably some kind of kids shampoo…"
She was just a child, so young. So much more in life for her. And Red John took that all away. He took away the moment when I sent her to her first school dance, helping her decide what she wanted to be. He took away the time when I'd see her leave for her first date, and come back happy about her first kiss. And most of all, he took away all those birthdays and Christmases to come, and the time when she'd go off on her own to find her own path in the big, wide world.
He took her away before I'd have the chance to really let her go.
And I remember her, every day. I cry for her when I'm alone at Christmas, or it would be her birthday. I scream in anger at the world on the day that he killed her. And every week, I take flowers to the place where she lies.
Charlotte Anne Jane, my flesh, my blood. The girl who never grew up, the father that lost everything he loved. And I swore that day that I'd get him, that I'd avenge her. For I cannot love again until justice has been served.
They say that it's wrong, to kill someone. But for me it's justified when that man killed my loved ones. I say he should be tortured, face a far worse fate than death, but for Charlotte I'll keep my humanity intact.
It may be years until I can live my life again, but I'll never move on completely, for in my memory she'll remain. Charlotte Anne Jane, my daughter I'll never forget.