Scarlet Psychosis
Summary: He wondered sometimes when he stared at his reflection in the mirror, if he was insane and then he'd forget until he didn't even know who he was staring at anymore.
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own The Mentalist, if I did… we'd end up seeing tons of humor and no cases.
Spoilers: Anywhere after "Red Menace"
Warnings: Language, Sexual Content.
A/N:
I really glad you all enjoyed the last chapter, this is such a fun collection to write—it's testing my limits to keep each character in character while distorting each character to their limit!
Anyway, thanks for all of the wonderful reviews, favorites and reads!
Hallucination:
The perception of somebody or something that is not really there.
Her head was pressed to the headboard, hours after he had fallen asleep next to her, curled up in his own little fantasy world of warm blankets and heavy pillows. It wasn't that she couldn't sleep next to him; in fact she slept better when he had his strong arms around her but tonight, something felt off.
They'd done everything they usually did, they ate dinner, skipped around on the subject of work, and she dragged him to the bedroom where both of them proceeded to rip off articles of clothing, and pleasure each other with the thinnest of touches; but somewhere along the way, she could only feel the feathery touches of her own hands upon her own body and the mattress beneath her, rocking slightly in response to the both of them.
Maybe it was the fact that he was abnormally quiet, but she had chalked that up to the fact that both of them were still a bit sore with each other and that he just needed her, he needed her in ways that many didn't or couldn't use her for. In fact, she remembered, he hadn't greeted her with his customary "I love you" or hadn't give her the smile she considered her own—he had just stepped into her apartment (he had a key, after all) and pressed his soft lips against her pale lips, his tongue beginning for entrance and beyond that, everything was normal except his lack of appetite and loving caresses.
She slowly brought her head down to her pillow, letting her red strands strain against the lavender of her pillow as she listened to him breathe softly next to her and without a second thought, she reached to grab his arm and was met with the soft feel of fabric beneath her fingers.
He wasn't there.
He was never there.
So, the next morning she'd pull herself together with the knowledge that she had a job to do —and she'd step into the CBI building knowing that she wasn't as innocent as she was yesterday with him.