A/N: I wanted to continue for your benefit as well as mine. Sometimes writing is the only way that I am able to stay sane after work. Thanks to all that have read and are continuing to read. I really appreciate it. Happy reading!
Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to The Mentalist
Physical
It's the physical pain that finally brings her to her knees months later. Every day she has been struggling to find her center, her hope, her solace. She tells herself that she is healing; that everything is getting better. He is better off wherever he went. Initially, she had tried to contact him, but his phone was disconnected and has been ever since. By now someone else probably has his phone number. The thought chills her.
She tries to snap herself out of it by grasping her cup of coffee a little more forcefully than necessary. She can feel the comforting warm reach dangerous levels and relaxes her grip. The steaming liquid is her one relief in a world full of cold cruelty. She has been noticing more cruelty lately. The murders they solve are more gruesome than she remembers them being. Of course it could just be that he isn't here to make light of the most difficult situations.
She's lost in thought as she enters the bullpen and doesn't notice the man rushing toward her. He bumps into her elbow and it sends her coffee cup flying toward the one piece of furniture no one on her team was ever able to consider getting rid of. Out of sheer desperation she attempts to catch the offending object, only succeeding in dousing her hand in the scalding liquid. The mug lands safely on the cushions of his couch. The poor couch is drenched in hot coffee.
Her reaction is much more dramatic than necessary to everyone watching, except Van Pelt. She runs from the room with tears gathering in her eyes as much form the physical pain as from the realization that she might have just ruined his couch. Not that it matters since he wasn't in it or near it for that matter, but it's her last reminder of him that has been tainted. The uniform that bumped into her is apologizing profusely to a woman that isn't listening. Van Pelt shoos the man away, turns the cold water on in the break room faucet, and guides her to it. The cold water shocks her enough to use her good hand to wipe the unshed tears from her eyes.
"I've got the guys cleaning it," Van Pelt reassures her. She chuckles.
"They'll make a mess of it."
"I told them how to do it right, plus the janitor came in to instruct them on the particulars of cleaning that couch the way Jane liked it." The mention of his name sends a new flood of tears and one manages to escape and roll down her cheek. She tries to hide it from the woman standing next to her, but it is a fruitless endeavor. Van Pelt is kind enough not to remark on it.
"How bad is your hand?" Van Pelt asks to break the silence.
"Hurts, but I don't think it's too bad," she tells Van Pelt. The young agent nods and leaves her alone. She takes a deep breath and turns the cold water off. Her hand throbs, but it isn't as severe a burn as she initially thought. The couch must have taken the brunt of the spill. She sighs and gathers her frayed emotions before heading back out to the bullpen to check out the cleanup effort.
The entire scene puts a smile on her face. Rigsby and the janitor are arguing over the best way to get the stain out of the cushion while Cho is wiping up the access liquid with a rag from the janitor's cart. The argument is bordering on heated when Van Pelt steps in and explains to them the finer points of acting like men. The subtle hand on Rigsby's chest does wonders for calming the man down. He doesn't argue, instead he turns to help Cho finish sopping up the remaining mess. The janitor shrugs and takes a bottle off of his cart and sprays the couch. The hustle settles down and she heads to her office.
It's within the confines of her space that she allows herself to let go. A few tears fall as her hand continues to throb. Each heart beat she can feel in her hand reminds her off all the times he felt for a pulse on suspects and tricked so many people. She grits her teeth and swallows the rest of her tears. She cannot continue to dwell on him the way she has been. No one else has noticed, but it's getting worse. Today has to be the tipping point for her. She plans to heal, just as her hand will.
A/N: I decided I needed to go a little lighter for parts of this one. Let me know your thoughts!