Disclaimer: I do not, unfortunately, own The Mentalist. Otherwise little Grace would be having MUCH more success in the love life department.
Please R&R :)
Grace Van Pelt lay, curled up into a ball, on her couch. Tissues, dirty plates, old glasses, books and other odds and ends littered the apartment, scattered across the floor where Grace had flung them when she was done with them. Books had been unable to distract her from her pain; the majority of the books she owned were classic romances, ones in which everyone lived happily ever after. But Grace knew that this was not the case. After having been forced to end the best relationship of her life simply because the man was a co-worker, she had been forced to admit to herself that maybe she wasn't destined to have a perfect relationship; wasn't meant to live happily ever after with her prince like the girls in the books.
But then, along came Craig O'Loughlin. Charming, funny, sweet, handsome; what woman wouldn't have fallen for him? And fall she did. She had plummeted into that abyss; certain she would be safe in his arms. And then he let her go.
She had fallen through space, numb to the pain at first as she stared from the gun in her hands to the bullet-hole in Craig's chest. She had tumbled through the air as she knelt over his dying body, whispering his name. And then he had pulled the necklace from her neck, and had lay still. At that point, she stopped falling. She crashed down to Earth, the pain catching up with her all too soon. She had been forced to go to the hospital, had sat there unmoving whilst doctors ran tests on her, had nodded silently when they handed her a prescription for some pills. Only then had she been allowed to leave. Only then had she allowed the tears to overwhelm her and spill down her cheeks. Her car was still parked at the cottage where Madeleine had been hiding; besides, she didn't feel capable of driving in her current condition. So she set off at a slow walk, tears still streaming down her face, and thought about how stupid she'd been. How could she not have known that Craig was working for Red John? She was going to marry the man, for crying out loud!
She thought back to the time they spent together, lying side by side in each other's arms. She ought to have known it then. She'd noticed it, sure, but had never thought anything of it: the slightly too long pauses whenever she had asked a personal question, the way in which he had turned the subject back onto her after answering. She'd had boyfriends like that before, ones who just didn't want to talk about themselves. She'd convinced herself it didn't mean anything, that he'd trust her eventually. And then he'd proposed and she'd felt like nothing could penetrate her little bubble of happiness.
But when he'd shot Lisbon, that bubble had vanished with a pop. She'd been forced to admit that the man she knew, the Craig that she was in love with, did not exist. In his place was a cruel, cold-blooded killer who had used her simply for her position in the CBI. She knew she ought to hate Craig, but all she felt was betrayal, and heart-ache.
A small drop of moisture landed on top of her head and she looked up with a small start. Another drop hit her on the forehead; yet another on the nose. Within seconds, the heavens had opened and rain was pouring down upon her. Grace didn't care. She merely pulled her jacket a little tighter around her, and continued walking slowly up the street.
The heel of her shoe got caught in a crack on the pavement, and down she went, landing on her hands and knees in a muddy puddle. Still, she didn't react. She pushed herself to her feet with her grazed and bleeding hands, then began to walk once more. She was forced to limp slightly; her heel had broken when she had fallen, and it made walking all the more harder. Grace welcomed it. Nothing should be easy for her again; it was when things were easy that they went wrong.
A car came speeding down the street, zooming past her and sending a tidal wave of water flying in its wake. The water cascaded over Grace, soaking her to her very bones. Her fiery scarlet hair was plastered to her face, strands of it finding their way into her mouth. Grace sobbed slightly, her salty tears mingling with the fresh rainwater on her cheeks. She staggered another ten steps or so, and came to a bus stop, where she gladly sat down, resting her poor and aching feet. Why does God punish me so? She thought to herself, removing her muddy and broken shoe and massaging some life back into the swollen and red foot. What did I do? But she knew the answer to that question already. She had always blamed herself for her sister's suicide, but she had not known until now that God did too.
She leaned back against the filthy wall of the shelter and allowed her emotions to overcome her. Sobs racked her body and she cried until there were no more tears to spill. Her nose started to run, and she wiped it with the sleeve of her jacket, sniffing and sobbing in equal measure.
It was then that she was aware of the approaching lights. Two yellow dots were moving steadily towards her; car headlights, she was sure of it. She hugged closer to the wall, not wanting to get drenched as she had the last time a car had gone past. To her surprise, the car slowed at it drew nearer, and her surprise turned to panic when it stopped and a tall, dark shadow got out of the driver's seat. She got to her feet and started to run, splashing through the many puddles in the pavement, sheer terror giving her the strength to push on, even though her feet protested with each step. She heard footsteps behind her, and started to run faster; but he was gaining on her. She could sense his presence behind her, knew that it was only a matter of time before he caught her. Just as this terrifying thought passed through her head, she felt fingers close around her arm and spin her around. She opened her mouth, ready to scream, when she heard a familiar voice coming from the shadow's mouth.
"Grace! Grace, it's me! Calm down, you're all right. It's just me."
"Wa-wa-wa-wayne?" she stuttered, her voice still trembling from the sobs and the terror, and as her brain caught up with her senses, she saw that it was Wayne who was holding her. His dark hair was soaked and water droplets hung from a few strands.
Wayne moved closer to her, and put his arm around her, pulling her closer to him as he said, "yeah Grace. I'm here. It's fine." He began manoeuvring her so that she was following him back down the street to the car, which was like a giant yellow beacon calling to them from the darkness. "Just follow me, Grace. You're all right."
Why does he keep saying that? She wondered. "How did you find me?" she asked instead, as they continued on up the pavement, Wayne steering her around the puddles.
"I knew you didn't have your car, and that you wouldn't wait for me or Cho to give you a ride home. So I figured you probably started walking." He stared straight ahead, concentrating on avoiding the puddles and cracks that took up most of the pavement.
She glanced up at him. "Wayne?"
He looked down to meet her gaze. "Yeah?"
"Why'd you come for me?"
He looked surprised that she had to ask. "I want you to be safe, Grace. If I had left you to walk and something had happened, I'd never have forgiven myself."
She nodded, then lapsed back into silence.
They reached the car, and she clambered into the passenger side. After three failed attempts to buckle her seatbelt, Wayne reached over her and pressed his large, warm hand over hers.
"Let me," he said, and clicked the seatbelt into place.
He began to drive, and they sat in silence for a while. Grace managed to control her tears, and simply stared out of the window, watching the world go by with a mild interest. Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, she was surprised to see that it was already five a.m. Early morning dog-walkers were making their way down the streets; businessmen in their fancy cars were driving alongside them, drinking coffee and stifling yawns. How she envied them. Their lives had remained unchanged since yesterday. Hers had become the polar opposite.
Tears began to spill from her eyes once more, and she brushed them away with her hands. But there were too many, and they were falling too fast. They overwhelmed her, and she started sobbing again, her thoughts full of what might have been, had Craig not betrayed her. Wayne glanced over at her and seemed shocked to see her in the state she was in. He found an empty car park, and pulled in, cutting off the engine.
"Grace? Grace, are you all right?" he knew it was a stupid question the moment it had left his mouth, but he couldn't help it. He searched the car frantically, and finally emerged triumphant with a packet of tissues, which he handed silently to Grace.
She nodded her thanks, and blew her nose. The sobs were subsiding as quickly as they had come, and she began to hiccough, wiping her face dry with another tissue.
"It's just hiccup I-I-" She began, then tailed off into silence.
"What, Grace? You what?" he asked, concerned.
"I loved him," she whispered, staring at her feet.
Rigsby sat silently for a minute or two, and then said softly, "I know, Grace. I know." With that, he started the engine once more, and they passed the rest of the journey in silence, both thinking over what Grace had just said.
When Wayne dropped her off at her apartment, Grace thanked him, then headed up alone. He had wanted to come in, to make sure she was okay, but Grace wanted some time to herself, to think about what she was going to do, how she was going to cope. She turned the key in the lock, and pushed open the door.
It was amazing how nothing had changed. Empty glasses and plates still stood on the dish rack, dripping dry; clean washing lay still in the washing machine, ready to be ironed; books and magazines lay piled up on the end table that sat to the side of the couch. With a pang, Grace recognised several of Craig's books, a few of his magazines, some of his laundry. Fighting back yet more tears, she held the tissues Wayne had given her closer to her chest, and lay down on the couch. One of his jackets was draped over the back of it, and she hugged it to her, inhaling his smell. Now that she was alone, she gave herself over to her emotions and allowed them to control her. Tears soaked the fabric of the couch, and her sobs echoed through the apartment. The place that had once felt homely and comforting to her, now felt cold and empty, as though someone had sucked all the life out of it.
Grace's only consolation as she began to doze, tears still running down her face, was that she had felt this way after breaking up with Wayne. That pain had healed itself over time. She knew it would probably take longer this time, but one question was in her mind as she finally fell asleep. Just how many times could she survive the hurt?