A/N: I am on a roll probably because today was an unexpected snow day, which means I have time to do something completely unproductive, like write a story. Takes place sometime in and around season 7, so spoilers for season 7. Just some thoughts that came to my mind and they nicely put themselves into a story. This will be in two parts, his and hers. Happy reading!

Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to The Mentalist

Waiting

He was never much good at waiting for the things he wanted. Instead, he pushed headlong into it and made sure he got those things in the shortest amount of time possible, not caring who he took out along the way. When his first wife, Angela, had been pregnant with Charlotte, he could hardly contain his excitement at the idea of meeting their child for the first time. Charlotte had been a week late, making him wait even longer. Angela had told him it was a lesson she was trying to teach him. There were many times he wished he had listened.

Six years later, he sat in the living room, hands died red, trying in vain to find signs of life in his family, waiting for the police to arrive. They brought the coroner with them, and an ambulance. The police questioned him incessantly, but he didn't hear them. He watched the black bags be wheeled out of his house on stretchers. The ambulances didn't run the lights.

He was forced to wait to bury his wife and daughter because their bodies were evidence in a criminal investigation. The medical examiner tried to move as quickly as possible, but the mortician couldn't schedule the funeral until they had already been gone for 2 weeks. He didn't plan the service; just let the mortician choose what would look nice. He didn't care. His wife and daughter weren't here anymore. After the funeral, he drove himself to the hospital to be admitted. He couldn't wait to die, but needed to live to catch Red John. Sophie helped him find his personality again, but a piece was missing and he was sure he would wait his entire life to find it again.

Then he met Teresa Lisbon.

Waiting took on a whole new meaning.

With Angela, waiting had been difficult and time consuming. He was as impatient as a child to move on to the next big thing in life. He had wanted to get to what he considered to be the 'fun' side of life. Teresa Lisbon was different. She didn't have the patience that Angela possessed, and he didn't quite know what to do. Lisbon would frequently yell at him, again something he was not accustomed to. He made the mistake about complaining about the amount of time it took to do something once. She had calmly pointed to the door and told him where he could go. Her colorful language gave him no chance to come up with anything except a terrible picture that frightened him more than he wanted to admit. It was after that he acquired the couch.

Waiting for Red John to hurt her had been the most difficult time in his life. He knew she was the one person in the world that Red John could target to completely and utterly break him once again. Most of his missing pieces were back in place. They didn't all fit together like they should, but some had begun to change shape to fit together better; fit around the jagged edges of the space and leave it as a smooth hole. It was never healed, but not as painful as it once was. He knew that Lisbon had done that for him. The day Lorelei asked for Teresa's body to please Red John he knew he was in too deep; he knew he couldn't bring himself off of the edge away from her. He had to push her away to protect her. Why couldn't she see that?

The bloody smiley face painted over her features destroyed what little sanity he had left. He was panicking as he begged for something to clean her up with. It was sealed in his memory now. Red John was targeting her. He would not let him get her. Suddenly, waiting for the right moment to strike was not as difficult. He would have one chance to rid the world of the truly horrible man once and for all.

Destroying Red John was not as satisfying as he thought it would be. Waiting for the light to go out in the man's eyes was gruesome. Patrick Jane had never considered himself a killer. In that moment, he realized he was, and deserved to die. The gun in his hand felt like his saving grace. He began to put it under his chin, waiting to feel the cold metal. Lisbon stopped him. Not physically, no she wasn't with him. Deniability was her best friend. It was the look on her face he imagined she had waiting for him to return to her. So instead of pulling the trigger, he left the gun there and called her, so she wouldn't have to wait, and worry.

Coming back to her had been the best choice he had ever made. She had missed him as well. It felt so good to work with her and he knew he wouldn't have to wait long to tell her how he felt. He wanted to actually tell her why he had decided to come back. Then, Marcus Pike showed up and he was forced to continue to wait; except he almost ran out of time. It was ironic for a man that hated waiting.

Now he finally had her, and he couldn't wait to see what would happen next.