A/N: Hey, this is my first fan fiction ever and I hope someone likes it. Please review.

Disclaimer: I do not own the mentalist or anything remotely close to it, if I did I would have the show air everyday so that we didn't have to wait a whole week before we know what's gonna happen next.

Addicted

"I am an addict". I said it, and once the words came out of my mouth I felt I have never said anything any more true than those 4 words.

When I was young I was addicted to money or the illusion that I had to have it.

When I was older and married I was addicted to fame, the spotlight and the reverence of people who treated me like a demigod. Always turning to me for advice and hanging onto my every word. That was such a euphoric feeling...

And then I came crashing to the ground. When a man without a face, a man without even a real name came one night to take everything I treasured away from me.

I realized I was no demigod; I was just a fool really... a half mad man trying to give his life more purpose than it should ever have. And inevitably all that I valued, all that should have ever mattered was taken from me. Never to be seen again.

After that I was addicted to being numb. Existing but unfeeling, breathing but not living. I was numb for half a year and would have preferred to be numb forever if she hadn't saved me.

I never wanted to be saved, but I had no say in it.

Now even after all thats happened I feel that I am still an addict, but not to something that feels good. I am addicted to my pain, my guilt, and my revenge.

That is the only thing that keeps me going the only thing left for me to live for. I cannot go back to being numb after I was awakened to feel all this pain and all this longing. The worst part of it all is I know that there is no 12 steps in the world that can save me. Even if I say over and over again that I am an addict, after all admission is the first steps to healing so they say. I need to quench my thirst for revenge, and I know that fulfilment will eventually destroy me. Like all addicts are destroyed by their vices, I shall be destroyed by my addiction as well. I cannot turn my back on it.

"Jane?" I hear a familiar voice saying pulling me out of my reverie. I open my eyes slightly to take a peek I need to gauge her expression to see if I'm in trouble. I see her staring at me with those round green eyes of hers and I see concern and some other sad emotion. "Are you okay?" she says this time with a little nudge on my couch. "I'm fine Lisbon; can I help you with anything?" I say with a bit of sleepiness in my voice to make it seem that I was just awakened. "Do you need me to help you question that powerful and well-connected senator regarding our current case?" I raise my eyebrows a little and close my eyes again. I never wanted to see those eyes with such pain and concern. I loved them round and laughing. Never in pain. "No, I just wanted to make sure you're still with us, since that last Red John case was closed cold again." She said with that matter of fact tone of hers. "I'm fine Lisbon." I say again. "Matter of fact I feel like going with you to question that senator after all." I say this time with my eyes fully open, getting up off the couch I smooth the crease in my suit with my hands. I look at her and she looks back at me with a bit of relief. I wanted to applaud the person who said the eyes were the windows to the soul, Lisbon's eyes were always telling me something "Are you okay?"..."Don't do that"..."I am warning you"... "prove it". Those were just her common glares, stares and looks. And lately when I get them I always get this feeling in my stomach like a pulling and turning motion. Not in a bad way mind you, it doesn't make me want to throw up. It's just there ever present when Lisbon looks at me in anyway. That's the reason I love toying with her, to get those looks. To get her to look at me, I won't admit it to anyone of course but sometimes I look forward to that feeling I get. That turning feeling. I even contemplate how I can provoke Lisbon the next time we're alone together. My theory is it's one of the few feelings I get that isn't tied to my guilt, and isn't tied to my past. It's connected to here and now.

"I will take you, but let me do the talking you are there purely for observation, the last thing we need is that big shot senator getting pissed off with the CBI. Do you understand?" She glares at me. (There's that feeling again) I raise both my hands and smile to show her I understand. She looks doubtful but believes me anyway. Oh what a saint you are Teresa thinking I can behave when obviously the senator did it and I can have him confess it in front of his entire cabinet with a smoke and mirrors routine. I suppress my smile when I catch her glancing at me sideways, trying to figure out what I'm plotting no doubt. She won't be too happy when this is all over, but hey at least she'll glare at me while I get the tongue lashing of the year.

Anything to get my fix is fine with me.

So yes, I am an addict. An addict for vengeance and also for green eyes spewing deadly fire. The only question is which one will destroy me first?

THE END