A/N: It's been so long since I've written any kind of ff, much less a Mentalist one. I think the last time I wrote, I was 15 weeks pregnant... now that baby is 17 months old! I'm writing my first novel, and sincerely needed a way to write just for fun and not because I 'had' too.
This story may just be a one shot unless I get a lot of interest for a second chapter (I'm not begging for it lol... I just don't know if there would be any interest or not). This story takes place after Jane loses his memory in "Fogue in Red" after he nearly drowns to death.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters...
Happy
The knock at the door made her jump. Turning the volume down, she listened again just to make sure it wasn't just her imagination. Hearing it again, she got up from the large leather recliner, put on her pink furry house shoes, and headed for the door.
"I'm coming," she called after the third knock.
The person on the other side wasn't someone she'd expect… especially not now. "Jane? What are you doing here? Did you remember where I live?"
The man's smile lit up the dreary doorway, and she had to remind herself that this was Con Man Patrick Jane. Not grieving widower Patrick Jane that she had known, or rather not known, for four years. This guy had all of Jane's cunning, and none of his better qualities.
"Grace, it's nice to see you again. Rigsby told me where to find you?"
"Rigsby, why?"
Jane shrugged and rocked back on his heels. "Glutton for punishment I guess. You don't seem the impolite type, Grace. You gonna invite me in or not?"
"How about not?" she said, leaning in the doorframe. Jane had never been to her house before, and for very good reasons. His sense of knowing a person without even having to try always made her feel uneasy. Everyone needed secrets.
His face turned from jovial to serious. "I need to talk to you, Grace. Please…"
"Talk to Lisbon. She's your friend after all."
"And you're not?"
"Gah…" she said, turning around and walking into her home. The closing door let her know that Jane had followed. She could tell that he was already scanning the room, trying to figure her out. "What do you want? I have things to do."
"Yes, obviously popcorn and Say Yes to the Dress are very important."
She quickly clicked off the TV and crossed her arms. Friday nights were her nights to just sit back and unwind while watching meaningless, mind-numbing television. After a hard week, she felt she'd earned it. "Get to the point, please. What do you want?"
"I want answers," he said, his eyes never stopped scoping her room out. It was a simple apartment. Nothing fancy. White walls filled with family pictures, hardwood floors, and a kitchen straight ahead. She wondered what he'd already pieced together about her from just his three minutes in the home.
"Kinda got to have questions first."
"Right," he said, sitting down on the arm of the leather chair and crossing his arms. "I can't remember things."
"I know. Because of the accident."
"Well, I wouldn't call having your head held down in water and drowned an accident."
"Guess not."
"You all know me. And I don't know you. And you all know something about me that I don't. It's fairly obvious that it's bad or you would have told me by now."
"And you want gullible Grace to be the one to tell you what it is despite doctor's orders." She shook her head. Even when he didn't remember her, he still pegged her as the weak one of the bunch. It drove her crazy.
"No," he said, shocking her. "I want you to be the one to tell the others to not tell me."
"Excuse me?"
"Whatever it is… Grace, it has to be bad. I have an idea, but it's just that.. an idea," he said, rolling his wedding ring around his finger. "And the looks they keep giving me, even you, it's like they are dying to tell me what it is."
"Because it's your life. You need to know about it."
"Not if I don't choose to. If it's as bad as you all act, then this could be my chance to move on with my life. To be happy. I am happy, Grace."
"But it's not real."
"Does that matter?"
"Why are you telling me all of this? Why aren't you talking to Lisbon? You were closer to her anyway."
"Because I'm not sure she'd understand. She'd probably take me somewhere to jog my memory if she could. Thing is, I don't want my memory jogged."
Grace took a deep breath, and bit her lip. "It's only because she cares."
"But I don't." He stood and walked toward her. "Grace, I can't care because I can't remember. By the looks on your faces, I don't want to remember."
"So, you are just going to run. Live your merry life without a thought of your family."
"Grace, you are/were my friends, but family…?"
"Not us." She said, wondering how much she needed to tell him. She had no idea what to do. Patrick Jane without his family's death wasn't such a good man, as much as she hated to think about it. It is what gave him his humanity. But if he was happy, truly happy, then should it be up to her to take that away from him?
"You look torn, so I'm going to tell you straight out. I don't want to know. I don't want to know about a family or a friend or a dog or anything. Do you understand that? It's my life and if I choose to forget it, it's my choice. No one else's."
"Fine," she relented. "Do whatever you want. But you need to man up and tell Lisbon that you won't be coming back to CBI."
"I never said…"
"You didn't have too." She glared.
"Seems I taught you well," he smiled a bit and turned toward the door. "Tell Theresa that I appreciate everything, but I won't be staying."
"Tell her yourself."
"No, no. It's better this way. I told you, if I let her know I wanted to leave, she'd try to jog my memory somehow."
"Maybe it needs jogging."
"Maybe it doesn't." The look he gave her let her know there really was no talking him out of it. Jane was leaving, and this was the last she'd see of him.
"Where will you go?" She followed him to the door.
"Anywhere but here. It's nothing personal, Grace. I just have to get away."
"So you don't remember."
He smiled sheepishly and placed his hand on the door knob. "Please tell the others that I do appreciate everything they have done even if I don't remember it. Tell them that maybe I'll come back to visit sometime."
"You want me to lie?"
"It's not a lie," he grinned and opened the door. Once outside, he turned back to her. "Thank you, Grace. I owe you."
"You owe me a lot. Be careful."
"I will," he said before turning and walking away.
That was that.
He was gone as quickly as he had come to upset her Friday night.
Grace stood there, watching the man she hadn't ever truly known, leaving. What had she agreed to? How was she going to tell the others? How would they react when they found out Jane was gone for good?
After she closed the door, she went back to her chair and picked up her popcorn bag. Turning the TV back on, she settled in to watch more stressed out women picking wedding dresses. She'd tell them Monday, she decided. No sense ruining a perfectly good weekend. Throwing another kernel into her mouth, she found herself ignoring the show. Lost in her thoughts, Grace tried to answer the most puzzling question of all: He had always been closer to Rigsby, Cho, and Lisbon. Why had to come to her?