Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of The Mentalist.

Author's Note: My first Mentalist story (You Knew) got a lot of hits and a fair number of reviews, so I decided to go ahead and finish this companion piece. It takes place right after Russet Potatoes, a little later than You Knew.

I Did What?

Wayne Rigsby continued to sit in the break room for some time after everyone had left. There was something about the way Jane had said "It'll come to you" that bothered him. Well, that and the smug, knowing looks Lisbon and Cho had directed his way. Rigsby hated the feeling that everyone around him knew something he didn't.

All at once, one of the snatches of memory from the past two days floated to the surface of his mind. It had first swept through his thoughts a little while ago, but it had been wispy and vague, and he'd dismissed it as the remnant of a dream. After all, it wouldn't be the first time he'd dreamed, or even daydreamed, about such a thing.

Now, however, the memory came into sharp focus and became more detailed. Suddenly, everything clicked into place, and Rigsby sat up straight as he understood.

Oh God, he thought, in a state of stunned shock. Oh God oh God oh GOD! He stood up, banging his knee on the table in his hurry but hardly noticing. He dashed out of the break room, trying to find someone to ask. He was afraid to find out whether this had really happened, but at the same time, he had to know.

Cho was sitting at his desk, apparently finishing up some paperwork. After making sure that Grace Van Pelt was not in sight, Rigsby sat down on the edge of Cho's desk and leaned toward him.

"I think…" Wayne trailed off, struggling to find words to voice the question he needed to ask. "I mean, I think I remember…did I…Van Pelt…in front of everyone?" He stared desperately at Cho, who regarded him stonily for a few seconds. Then again, that was how Cho almost always looked.

"You really didn't remember," Cho stated finally, which wasn't particularly helpful. However, the fact that Rigsby's completely broken sentence was enough for Cho to understand what he was talking about didn't bode well.

"No," said Rigsby, his heart starting to pound rapidly as the implications of this started to sink in. "Not – not until just now. I thought maybe – it really happened?"

"It really happened," Cho confirmed. Rigsby sank from the desk into the chair that stood nearby. He wasn't sure what to make of this.

"God, does she hate me?" was the first thing he could think of to say.

"I don't think so. Why would she?" Cho seemed genuinely surprised.

"I…forced her to..." Rigsby felt terrible for doing something like this without her consent, yet he enjoyed the sensations he could now recall from the kiss. Immediately after that, of course, he felt guilty for enjoying it. This wasn't how their first kiss was supposed to happen.

"It was just a kiss," Cho protested.

"Come on, man. We've both seen guys brought up on sexual assault charges for less than that."

"Van Pelt isn't going to bring charges," replied Cho confidently. "Look, you weren't yourself. We all understand that."

"That's part of the problem," Rigsby responded. "What if – what if I didn't stop with a kiss?" That thought made his guts twist up. If he'd hurt her in any way, he'd never have forgiven himself. Cho leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers together on the desk. Rigsby began to regret coming to him for answers, but his options had been somewhat limited.

"I'm getting out of my area here," Cho said at last. "I think you should talk to Jane."

"Is he still here?"

"Couch." Cho's abrupt gesture was an obvious dismissal, and he bent his head back down to his work. Rigsby obligingly got up and found Patrick Jane lying on the brown couch. Rigsby sat himself awkwardly on the padded arm, waiting. Eventually, Jane opened an eye at him, observed him in that way that made Rigsby feel like he was an interesting bug on a microscope slide, and closed it again.

"Can I help you with something, Agent Rigsby?" Jane asked him.

"I, uh…" Rigsby suddenly realized that he didn't know how to begin this conversation. Finally, remembering Jane's last words to him, he blurted out, "It came to me." Instantly, Jane opened his eyes and sat up.

"I see. So?"

"So…what do I do now? Apologize?"

"For what? A kiss?"

"I did something she didn't want to do," Rigsby insisted. He didn't know why he was pressing this point, but some part of him seemed to want absolution in some form. And he wasn't even Catholic!

"From where I was standing, she didn't look like she was protesting too much," Jane informed him. It didn't feel like she was resisting in Rigsby's memory, either, but under the circumstances, he wasn't inclined to trust that.

"What if – what if – " Rigsby stammered, unable to finish the question for a second time.

"You wouldn't have done anything to hurt her," interrupted Jane confidently.

"But – how can you be sure?"

"Your innate protectiveness of women, especially those you care about. Lindsay used that. She made it stronger and made sure it was focused on her. Hypnotism can't make someone do anything that's against their code of ethics. Trust me on that."

Rigsby bit his lip, thinking about this. It made him feel a little better, but only a little. If it were true, he decided he didn't want to know what was in him that allowed him to break a suspect's nose in the interrogation room. Not that he hadn't been tempted on occasion, but he'd never even come close to actually doing it before.

"Obviously, in your mind, a kiss is not in any way harmful," Jane told him, answering his unspoken doubts. "At some level, you must have known she wouldn't object."

Another memory came to Rigsby's mind, and the setting this time was the office restroom. It was after Van Pelt's boyfriend/homicidal maniac with a grudge had attacked Rigsby and left him there. Van Pelt had come to find him, and Rigsby remembered her face getting closer and being sure that this was the moment. Then that stupid custodian had to come in and break the spell.

"All right," Rigsby said slowly, acknowledging that Jane was making some valid points. "But what do I do now?

"That is the question, isn't it?" remarked Jane, his eyes traversing the room restlessly before settling on Rigsby again. "Well, as far as she knows, you still don't remember anything, right?"

"Right."

"But she knows how you feel about her, if she didn't before. So maybe you should let her come to you. When she's ready."

"Will that actually happen?" Taken with the stress of everything that had happened recently, the agency prohibition against romantic involvement between co-workers seemed relatively unimportant.

"I hope so," said Jane mysteriously, and Rigsby again got that niggling feeling that he had missed something. "In the meantime, just act normally around her. You know, clueless and overprotective. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go back to sleep."

With that, he lay back down, and Rigsby had so much on his mind that he was in the elevator before it occurred to him that he ought to feel somewhat offended.

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Author's Note: I had this idea a while ago, and I decided that I just had to do one from Wayne's point of view. Seriously, how can you not have a large soft spot for a guy who voluntarily admits that he loves a film called Sudden Embrace?