A/N: Admittedly, this is my first time writing for 'The Mentalist' fandom. Actually, to be honest with you, I've seen maybe five or six episodes (including the season 2 finale). Needless to say, I'm hooked...

Title: Delirium

Fandom: Mentalist

Pairing(s): one-sided Red John/Patrick Jane (implied Patrick/Teresa)

POV: Red John

Rating: Hard R

Warnings: Implications of non-consensual sex, although this is nothing more than the musings of a deranged serial killer.

Spoilers: This snippet takes place a few hours directly after 'Red Sky in the Morning', the season two finale. Otherwise, I think you're safe as long as you know who Red John is and why Patrick Jane is pursuing him.

Disclaimer: These characters are the sole property of the writers/producers/directors/actors/CBS/what-have-you—I own absolutely nothing.

Summary: There was a time when Jane's quest was more of an annoyance than anything else, but he has since found himself delirious in the hope that one day he will have the chance to show the man what it feels like to possess the sole attention of a god.

Red John has no use for recreancy or trepidation. He has no use for remorse. There is no god to judge him, no cell to hold him, and no man endowed with the subtle blush of life that can ever hope to unravel the mystery surrounding his identity.

The police pursue him avidly, scraping up false leads and meagre clues with the same voracious appetite of a carrion bird. He sleeps easy at night with the knowledge that anything they do find is achieved through nothing less than serendipity. They dance like marionettes at the tug of a string. They are his pets. His captive audience.

And at any given time, he needs but glance across the stage and he will find Patrick Jane sitting there in the sea of faces, staring up at him, his aficionado.

Red John would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't infatuated. He knows what he 'is' and what he 'is not', and has no shame to bear in this sweet enrapture. There was a time when Jane's quest was more of an annoyance than anything else, but he has since found himself delirious in the hope that one day he will have the chance to show the man what it feels like to possess the sole attention of a god. Jane knows nothing of the divine. Not yet. The road ahead is lined with broken glass, but Jane has already shrugged off the first coil of his mortality. Though the removal of the man's wife and child had been executed by the hand of John's wrath, he realizes now that destiny had to have been at play that glorious night. Jane was led to him by providence. Jane is a gift.

Red John has no use for mercy. It is only by his good grace that he is ever compassionate. Jane could very well live out the rest of his miserable life in blessed ignorance, another puppet dancing on the stage of life, but John has decided that he will introduce him to what lies beyond this banal world. No other man could ever hope to know such benevolence.

John watches him quietly through the bedroom window. A thin pane of glass is all that stands between them. It is almost ironic.

Jane is seated on a mattress, on the floor, below the painting of a bleeding, red smile, and has been there already for quite some time. John thinks this is fitting—a martyr waiting for guidance beneath the icon of his god.

The CBI consultant shrugs off his jacket and reclines on the flimsy mattress, weary from their last meeting. The man will sleep now and rise again tomorrow morning, the heady fire rekindled beneath his breast. Then they will start the chase anew.

Jane is still very much human and John does not expect him to understand what has to be done. It is through ruin that the mind reaches enlightenment, and the eventual death of Kristina Frye is only one small step on this long and winding road. Jane cannot be tied to this world; his peers. Teresa Lisbon will surely have to go, but her demise can wait. They have not slept together yet. John is confident of this.

The transition will be a painful one. Jane will struggle, that much is certain, but Red John is prepared for a fight. He does not expect Jane to comprehend the favour he is about to do for him, just as the child does not understand the pain or purpose of circumcision until the deed is done and it has grown old enough to realize the benefits of the cut. Knowledge is pain. This is a fact of life.

His body is buzzing with excitement. In the afterglow of coitus Jane will finally understand, and John can't help but revel in the fact that he alone has the power to do this, to open his eyes... He will know Jane like no other man or woman alive.

It will be beautiful.

The rape of Patrick Jane is as imminent as the coming of the sun, and as dawn's first blush paints the sky in delicate hues of fuchsia and red, John must will himself not to act in haste. He retreats while there is still darkness enough to conceal him and flits away to deal with other, more pressing matters. After all, he has a guest to entertain, and when everything has been said and done, there will finally be a chance for him to entertain Patrick Jane as well.

Just as surely as Patrick Jane will entertain him.

A/N: Now, since I can count the number of 'The Mentalist' episodes I've seen on one hand, please feel free to tell me if I've gotten Red John all wrong. I plan on writing on a sequel (maybe...) but if you think I've done a horrendous job with this fic, I'll invest more of my time in studying the show and its characters.

I have a question, though: is 'Red Sky in the Morning' the only episode in which we, the audience, ever see a physical manifestation of Red John, or is he prone to make a cameo every once in a while on the show?

Thank you for reading.