A/N: I haven't written in awhile, but felt the need to write this one and post it. This takes place after the Season 7 premiere. Happy reading!
Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to The Mentalist.
Key
She had offered him a key to her place. He hadn't said no, and that surprised her. She had been waiting for the right moment. Part of her thought now wasn't the time, but he accepted it; accepted her token of moving forward instead of standing still. This stepping forward was a new thing for both of them. They had never continuously moved in that direction. Stagnant or backwards had been their way of life. They only moved forward when pushed, and she was tired of pushing him.
Two weeks ago she had walked into the hardware store and had a copy of the key made. For some reason her stomach was in knots during the entire 5 minute process. She had fumbled with her money and only stammered a quick "Thanks" to the man that had been kind and talkative during the key copying. She knew she looked flustered as she hurried to her car. She hadn't been this self conscious since she was a teenager! She had slammed her head against the headrest to clear her mind. It hadn't helped. The metal felt cold in her hand. She didn't want it to be an omen of things to come, so she threw the key in the passenger cup holder.
The next day he had come over to move the last of her boxes back into the house or into her garage. There weren't that many left, but he had insisted on coming by to help. They laughed as they worked. She told him he needed to get a sensible car, and he informed her that he "lived life on the edge". Overall, the day had been nice. She couldn't place a time when he had laughed that much in the span of a few hours.
Initially, she wanted him to come into the house, but a look she couldn't place passed over his face. It worried her, but she didn't invite him inside, knowing it would only be awkward. Instead, she opened the passenger car door and pressed the freshly made key into his hand. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before a small smile changed his features to something much softer. Many of his expressions were new to her, and each one opened him up to her a little more. She felt like she was an open book to him. It was nice to be able to read a page or two he had to offer.
He didn't come back for two days after that. She wasn't concerned. She had wanted to keep her personal life personal. He was respecting that. He stayed late at the office, just like he used to when she was the boss. Of course, back then she had been with him. Now, he was either by himself or with Cho. They were still fast friends. She would never understand how the strong silent man fit in with the loud con-artist. However it worked, it worked, and that was all that mattered. It was nice to know that he had a friend somewhere.
The next time he came to the house he knocked on the door. Part of her was hurt that he didn't use the key. Another part of her understood that he still might not be ready. Using a key meant that he shared the space with her. He hadn't officially shared a living space with another woman since his late wife. It had been many years, but the pain was still fresh. There were moments she would lose him to the past. He did it unconsciously, and only for a second, but it was long enough for her to begin to figure out what things she could say, and what things would cause him pain. The first time she said "I love you" had been one of those moments; and it had torn her apart inside. He spent the rest of that day making it up to her, to cover the pain that had flicked across his face. She had never eaten a five course meal before that, and the next time she said it, he smiled.
Now she waited for his customary knock on the door. It was a Tuesday, but they had just solved a case that had been a priority and they had worked over the weekend. Abbott was kind enough to give them all the next day off. She was grateful, but hadn't been able to find Patrick at the end of the day to make plans. He had disappeared. Cho told her he left at lunch. She stayed. It would look better that way.
By now it was dark. Her living room was illuminated by a single lamp beside her. The shadows were deep and dark, creeping into her soul. Why did the key matter so much to her? What did it represent? She couldn't figure it out. It was all too much, and she was hungry. The thought of going to make herself dinner made her sigh. She didn't want to sit here alone. She stared at the screen on her phone for a full minute before putting it away. She wasn't going to call him now. She had given him a key. He didn't need to be invited over.
Mind made up, she got up from the couch and heard a sound she wasn't expecting. An almost imperceptible scrape could be heard coming from the door. The deadbolt slid back and her heart skipped a beat. Next, her doorknob jiggled as a key was inserted into the second lock. By now she couldn't control her rapid heartbeat. The door knob turned and she stared in shock as the door opened to reveal the man she had been waiting for hiding behind a dozen white roses.
"What?" he asked; the surprise evident in his voice.
"Nothing," she said with a smile and a shake of her head. Now she just had to get him to start sleeping in the bed. Something told her it wouldn't take long.