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English
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Published:
2026-03-24
Updated:
2026-06-01
Words:
18,342
Chapters:
5/?
Comments:
11
Kudos:
34
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The Secrets Hidden in Your Eyes

Summary:

“Really? And how much do you know?” I said, feeling a little skeptical as I rested my arms on the table and looked at him.
“I don’t think it's a good-…”
Lisbon intervened, but Jane simply began to speak, looking me in the eye. “You lost your mother at a very young age, so as you grew up, you developed a very close relationship with your father. You have at least one younger sister. Also, you’re very good at keeping secrets… You’re used to hiding your emotions, avoiding smiling unless the situation calls for it...” There was a brief pause before he continued.
“You were also married for at least three years, then you divorced him, and you still feel guilty about it.” He smiled once again. "How was I?”
(...)
He was smiling, happy about being correct again, as he was used to. That arrogance started to annoy me, and it wasn't just a minor bother like before. “Congratulations, you were right about everything, Jane…”
“But…?” He says as I make a pause.
“But you were wrong about my marriage. I didn’t divorce him… he died.” He then slowly erased the smile on his face.

Notes:

A little reminder before starting. As is indicated on the tags, in this story Patrick's romantic interest will be an original character (OC). The relationship between Jane and Lisbon will remain strictly platonic, though their dynamic as friends would be almost the same.

Some things to take into account:

The timeline runs from the first season (a few weeks after Van Pelt joined the CBI) to the seventh season, and I will likely continue beyond that final season as well.

Some of the cases from the episodes of the show will appear in the order in which they occurred. But I will skip some cases/episodes (so the narrative doesn’t get tedious or redundant), include different cases I’ve made up, or simply develop the new branches of this fic to give it its own dynamic.

There will mostly be chapters from the protagonist's POV, but I plan to include some of Patrick's throughout the fic as well.

Here, Red John’s identity is still unknown. It is not the same man as in the TV show; the mystery about it remains.

Please note that this is my first fanfic of The Mentalist and that English isn't my first language, so please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes you may find; if you do, please let me know, I'd truly appreciate it.

Thank u for taking the time to read! ❤︎⁠

Chapter 1: Chapter 0: Prologue

Chapter Text

2005, 3 years ago

I walked slowly down the hallway, tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear as I gathered the courage to enter the room. I closed my eyes, trying to control the nausea that was overwhelming me due to the hospital’s smell.

Wanting to try to breathe normally, I rested my back against a wall. More tears rolled down my cheeks, but I kept trying not to break down just yet. I still needed to endure all of this first.

I took out my cellphone, pressed a button and saw all the missed calls. I didn't have the strength to return any at that moment, but at the same time, I knew I wasn't going to be able to do all this by myself. I ended up texting Nate, explaining to him the terrible reason why I'd had to come to the hospital.

After closing my phone, I started walking again, heading towards the room I'd been directed to. I peeked through the door, trembling before my heart sank as I saw him on the bed, surrounded by machines.

I let out a small sob this time, still trying to swallow all the pain I was carrying. I slowly approached him, taking a seat beside the bed without taking my eyes off his body.

His face was covered with bruises and cuts, and I tried my best to ignore the tube inside his mouth and the beeping of the monitors. I reach for his left hand, glancing at his wedding ring before bringing his hand to my cheek, then sobbing again in silence. I felt my tears fall once more, but this time I didn’t have the strength to wipe them away.

“I’m here… don’t worry, we’ll get through this too. Everything will be okay…” I whispered, but I wasn’t sure if those words were meant for him or for me.

My chest ached terribly, and the tightness in my throat was almost unbearable. I couldn't take it anymore. How was I supposed to get through this? If he died, how could I go on with my life? And what would be the point of moving on when I knew perfectly well that if I lost him... I was sure he would take the best part of me with him.