Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist or any of the related characters.

A/N: So this is my first (completed) Rigspelt fanfic. Angsty as always, because that's the way I roll. Reviews and Crits are much appreciated. They feed my soul.

He stares at the amber liquid in the shot glass as though somehow it will give him the answers to all his problems. It doesn't, so instead he downs it in one swift gulp and asks the barman for another. The next he swills around the glass hoping that will succeed where the staring failed but that yields no more answers. He downs that one too. Why can't you just be happy for her? She's found herself a good man she wants to settle down with. He reprimands himself. But he can hear the words going through his head over and over. Each time they hurt more, each time his feelings for her burn more fiercely. 'Craig asked me to marry him... and I said yes.' Has she not noticed that he's barely even tried to date anyone since that day? Can she not see that he still cares deeply for her? He downs another shot, though he doesn't remember asking for another, and stares at the remnants in the glass. 'I said yes.' He still remembers the day that she told him she cared more about her job than him. Sure that hurt, hell it felt like a kick in the stomach, but somehow those three words hurt even more. Get over it. She's happy, you should be too. He scolds himself again. His brain is being rational, but his heart refuses to give over. He asks the barman for another and downs it quickly. Maybe the alcohol will numb the pain. Maybe tomorrow he'll see more clearly and be able to let it go. Who am I kidding? He looks at the collection of shot glasses in front of him and asks for one last shot before walking heavy hearted into the night.