Disclaimer: I do not own The Mentalist, or any of the related characters (damn.)
A/N: I'm not going to say anything about this, as I want you to create your own ideas about it. Reviews and Crits are welcomed.
It is a month after the incident that the package arrives for her.
Things have changed in that month. It's funny, she thinks, how much things can change as a result of one person's actions. It's one of the reasons she joined the police force. But right now it just feels like a curse.
Van Pelt has yet to return to the CBI, though they have taken to meeting regularly, two women acting as each other's antidote for the poison of betrayal.
Two men they trusted, one she trusted more than she cared to admit, betraying them on the same day. And for what? The approval of a psychopath? Vengeance for a family who, she is sure, wouldn't want it?
She sighs heavily, nothing has ever been plain sailing, of that much she is sure. But this is like trying to cross the ocean with a thousand bullet holes through the sails.
She grips the cross around her neck so tightly that she is sure it will pierce her palm.
Where has God been all this time? All these years she has prayed for his intervention, for him to help her somehow, and this is the result. More pain, more sadness.
Taking a deep breath she lets go of the cross and turns her attention back to the small package on the coffee table.
It is a plain box, about the size of a book. The only thing remotely colourful about it is the stamp in the top right corner of the lid, but even that is marred by the black ink of the postage date.
She picks it up.
Her name and address are handwritten on the lid in black biro. She recognises the writing, but she isn't sure where from until she opens it.
The tear of paper can be heard as she detaches the lid from the rest of the parcel.
Then something flies out.
She gasps, and then, as she sees it sat on the floor, she begins to cry.
There is nothing else in the box, no letter or indication of who it's from nor what it means.
But she knows.
She picks it up off the floor and she knows.
Because there is only one person in the world that has ever given her something like this.
The little origami frog looks up at her.
I'm sorry. It says silently. I'm sorry.