Title: For Her.
Characters: Rigsby and Van Pelt (slight mention of the rest of the team)
Summary: You gave up everything. For her.
Prompt: Ficathon - ROMANCE: Rigsby/Van Pelt, business before pleasure. Mentalist Prompt – "I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing, Just prayin' to a god that I don't believe in, Cos I got time while she got freedom, Cos when a heart breaks no it don't break even" - Breakeven, the Script.
Notes: I don't like this because it makes my heart sad. But I hope you like it, it's got angst in it. Major, sad angst.
Spoilers: None, it's kind of AU.
For Her
You gave up everything.
For her.
It was fine at first; you did your best to make it work, to be together despite the distance. What was an hour's plane ride between lovers? Neither of you wanted it to be over at the time. If you had, then you wouldn't have moved to the other end of the state just to keep your relationship. The rules made it impossible for you to be together otherwise.
You gave up your career.
For her.
You loved her and she loved you. Loves young dream living it as best as they could. Your friends celebrated how romantic it was that you stayed together no matter what, that you fought the distance and won. Lisbon, Cho, Jane, they all promised to come visit you and you them, you talked about meeting up for Thanksgiving or New Years, but it didn't happen.
You barely saw them.
For her.
You couldn't afford to fly back to Sacramento often, not on the low paid job you ended up taking. She flew to you and you allowed her to. The few times you did fly were brief visits and cost you more than you could afford.
You didn't have any money.
For her.
She could have paid for your flight, but it was easier to let her travel. You worked regimented hours; hers were too unpredictable to make plans off of.
You let it happen.
For her.
You could only really be together at weekends and holidays. Those she didn't spend with her family that was. You tried to spend them together but there were only so many times you could offer her a family Christmas with your own parents. You spent as much time together as was possible considering the circumstances.
You gave up spending time with your own family.
For her.
You worked for three years in the same crappy police department where budget cuts were high and morale was low. You got shot twice in the first six months, once seriously. You bounced back because you loved police work. You missed the excitement of the CBI, the major cases with well-known faces and serial killers.
You worked in a mundane position.
For her.
You didn't want the morose tasks, you hated solving boring crimes. All you intended to do that day was talk to a known gang member about his sister, who'd been raped and beaten to death. You didn't expect to be leaving on a paramedic's trolley losing more blood than your body could cope with. Nor did you expect to end up fighting for your life in hospital or lose the majority of feeling in the entire right side of your body.
You lost your health.
For her.
You expected her to want to take you in, to look after you in your hour of need. She was a caring kind of person after all. She wanted to, in many ways. But she also had a full time job, miles away from your home.
You moved away again.
For her.
Being back in Sacramento wasn't the same. Cho had married eighteen months earlier and was now the busy father of twins and Lisbon and Jane were too wrapped up in some secret love affair. Nobody had time for you anymore, not when you couldn't leave the house without someone there to help you. The recovery process was long and most days you sat staring out of the window wishing your life could be different.
You lost your independence.
For her.
You fell six times in three weeks. You discussed your options. She couldn't leave work, not with your medical bills. Besides, she was looking at a promotion in another unit, a higher up position which she was almost guaranteed. You didn't want to be a burden on her. Instead you moved in with your parents like you were fresh out of college and down on your luck.
You let them treat you like a child.
For her.
You stayed together for a few months and tried to make it work. What other option did you have? You still loved her, deep down, you wanted to be with her for the rest of your life. But you were in a wheelchair living an hour's drive from her home. She barely had time to phone you, let alone visit. Eventually you cut your losses.
You let her go because it was the best thing to do.
For her.
For both of you.