A/N: ZOMG! I saw the preview for Blood Money! (For those of you who haven't, I am very sorry.) It looks AMAZING! Can't wait!

Anyway, I don't use names a lot in this one, or really explain anything, but if you are diligent little The Mentalist watchers, you should understand everything.

Disclaimer: Ever heard the song "I Don't Own The Mentalist"? It's my theme song. :)

Warnings: Character death and possible OOC.

The Beginning of the End

She felt awkward and small in the dim room. Once again, she was on the other side of the interrogation. She was probably going to crack immediately—

Get ahold of yourself, she thought fiercely. "Yes" and "no" answers. Oh, Lord, now she was thinking like a criminal. But she wasn't the criminal here. He was. The man she loved. She didn't even know where he was now. Neither did anyone else, or he'd be behind bars right now, probably put there by her. And she would be the one conducting the interrogation, not one of her best friends doing it to her.

"How long have you known the suspect?" His indifferent expression revealed nothing—to strangers. She knew he was hurting inside. Everyone was, and she was worst of all.

"About eight years," she answered calmly. So much "yes" or "no."

"What were your feelings toward him during that time?"

A burst of pain in her chest: her heart breaking even more. "He was a coworker. Nothing more," she lied, knowing full well she could get in trouble for it.

"There were rumors that you two were having a sexual relationship. Is this true?"

Her mind flashed back in time: their first kiss, the first time they made love, their plans for the future. Ruined now, of course. His desire for her was powerful, but his desire for revenge had been more so. She remained silent, struggling to keep from crying.

"Were you having a sexual relationship with him?" he pressed.

She swallowed, kicking herself inwardly for showing weakness. "Yes," she whispered.

His eyes widened, confirming what she had thought: he hadn't known. That meant it was likely no one else had, either. Until now.

"Do you have any idea where is at this time?" he asked, staring at her intently.

"No." A single, lonely tear slid down her cheek. "He didn't even say good-bye." She barely heard herself when she said this, and was surprised when he got up and walked to her. After hesitating a moment, he embraced her.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. He left without another word.

It was the most emotion she'd ever seen him show. Unfortunately, it did the exact opposite of what those kinds of things are supposed to.

"So am I," she murmured. She put her arms on the table, laid her head on them, and began to cry quietly. Suddenly her cell phone rang. With one last sniffle, she got it out and looked at the caller I.D. Unknown Caller. Could it be…?

As soon as the possibility that it could be him crossed her mind, she answered it. "Patrick?" she asked breathlessly.

"Teresa." A voice once full of warmth was now cold. The pang in her heart returned.

"Patrick, where are you? Please, I won't tell them—"

"No. I'm trying to protect you."

"Patrick, please," she begged, on the verge of tears once more. "Please tell me."

"No."

"Why did you even call, then?"

"To say good-bye." His voice was emotionless.

"Patrick, no," she whispered. "Don't leave me, you can't."

"I have to. You know that."

"We can figure something out—"

"Teresa, please don't make this harder."

"You're the one making it harder!" she yelled. Her control was waning, fast. "Just come home. Please."

"I can't."

"But you want to," she murmured, calmer now, "don't you?"

"You know I do," he said quietly, his voice breaking. Some of the warmth that she used to love crept into his next words. "I love you."

"Then come home. We'll figure something out."

"Teresa—"

"Please. We can try."

Silence. "Okay."

She sighed in relief. "Thank you. I love you," she added.

He muttered something unintelligible.

"It's going to be okay," she said.

He mumbled again, but she managed to make out the words, "Angry is the way of the world," then, "I love you." He hung up.

One piece of her heart healed at the thought of seeing him again, even if it was for the last time. She was going against almost everything she believed in, meeting him somewhere. And she had lied—twice. She knew where he was, or had a pretty good idea: his house in Malibu. He had told her, once, what he was going to do, going into detail, and practically forcing her to listen. Eventually, he noticed that she was staring at him, shocked, confused, and scared. He kissed her then, telling her to just ignore him. But how could she ignore him when he talked like he had been killing people for his whole life?

She had known the day would come; she just didn't know it would be so soon. She thought she was helping him move on, get over his appalling need of vengeance. But it just seemed like she had made it even worse.

A/N: So, should I keep going? Please review, and tell me what you think!