Disclaimer: I own nothing and no character from the Mentalist. They are property of Bruno Heller and the producers of the series
A/N: This is my first Mentalist piece and only second piece of fanfiction ever. It's all very nerve wracking! Bear in mind that in the UK, we haven't finished season 2 of The Mentalist yet, so I haven't seen how or if it all works out. Many thanks to the super awesome and generous ficlit for whom this is being published as a happy 4th July present as it still is July 4th here!
Grace
Grace arrived home from a long day at work. The routine would be the same. Grace liked routine and order. Especially now. It gave her control.
She would not miss the spontaneity. She refused to.
First dinner. She went to her fridge and ignored the loan bottle of his favourite beer lingering at the back. Just like she ignored the fat and salt laden crackers in her cupboard – oh, and the tub of ice cream in the freezer.
After dinner, she showered. She didn't see his razor in her bathroom cabinet next to the extra, used, toothbrush, in the same way that the fragrance free shower gel next to her lilac scented one didn't register.
Getting ready for bed Grace didn't feel the softness of the large, white cotton T shirt that lurked at the back of her draw. He must have forgotten that too, but it wasn't important because she didn't know it was there. Not really.
Getting into bed, Grace passed over the book on the night stand that had the photo of them that she used as a bookmark – she'd almost finished it but suddenly wasn't interested at the moment.
None of these things were there. Just like when you hide your favourite chocolate from yourself. You don't know it's there so you can't give in to temptation. Except you do. Because every now and again you just need to. Just a little bit. Sometimes though, it screams at you and mocks you every time you pass. Ok, it shows you are weak. But no-one except you knows right? You can live with that. Even when you know it's your fault. Usually.
"I've moved on too," she had lied.
And now she just needed a bite. One tiny bite. A little nibble. A little bit of security.
Grace went to her underwear draw and slid into a pair of large boxers before getting into bed.
None of it was really there. She could be strong. She had to.