Fanfic: The Mentalist: Little Pink Book (1/1)
Title: Little Pink Book
Fandom: The Mentalist
Rating: K+
Summary: Why did her brother buy her this silly little diary?!
Authors Note: First prompt from table H from mentalistprompt. Prompt: 'Dear Diary...'
Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the show.
Dear Diary,
What a stupid, cliched way to start. I haven't written in one of these things since I was about ten. It was such a pointless present. James must have realised that when he bought it, he's my brother, how could he not know I wouldn't like it? I don't even know why I opened it, never mind started scribbling in it. He is so like Jane: he always does or buys the most irrelevant things for me. Jane bought me a keyring with a Christmas tree on it, I mean, okay, the horse had a reason behind it but this doesn't. It is the middle of April, not December!
I hate birthdays. I really do. What is the big attraction of being surrounded by more people than necessary just to receive gifts that I probably will not use for the rest of my life. At least Jane brings a bit of fun and surprise to the situations. The rest of the team honestly think I like being fussed over on days like these, they have no idea how wrong they are. It only makes me want to go back to the past when - for one day per child per year - mum and dad would silently agree to not argue or drink and we would have a good time.
I pretend to have fun now and I think Jane can see how little interest I have in the whole farce but he keeps quiet, he knows that the rest of the team get incredibly excited when they can relax more around me. I know I am their boss but it sometimes gets quite lonely because they don't talk to me about their lives since I'm the head bitch and I admittedly am one of the most awkward people to approach about personal issues. It's hard for Jane, he has no one that he can talk to for hours on end about his family with, he understands that I would be willing to listen but that neither of us would actually be comfortable about it; he would ultimately get upset and I don't know how to cope with crying people. I just wish he would get some help. Anything, even if he wrote it down it might be therapeutic because bottling up all the hurt like he does is not helping.
Today has been exhausting because of the fake happiness, the inevitable papercuts from Van Pelt and Cho's tightly wrapped presents and of course another sick, twisted killer that we had to spend our day hunting down. When I said 'we' I obviously meant everyone excluding Jane - he just sat on the couch as usual, sipping tea out of that silly little turquoise cup, yet still manages to beat the rest of us to work out the truth of the case.
Why does time always move so slowly when I just want the day to finish? It feels like I should be going to bed now but I have apparently only been home for a couple of hours. It's times like this that I hate being alone, if there was someone else in here then there would be a chance to have an adult conversation and simply a relationship with someone who didn't think I ruled over their time and life. My job took over everything when I joined, now I have no idea if I'll ever have a proper family; kids haven't always been on my list of wants but time to actually have one is running out and I'm beginning to get a little broody. Yes, the senior agent of a homicide unit wants a tiny little person to get annoyed with. Does my mind really think that a child and Jane are so different, is one not enough to deal with?
This will be the first and last entry I ever make in this pink book. Pink for me? I honestly think he took something before going birthday shopping. Unsurprisingly, Jane has managed to taken up the majority of this page, he manages to weave himself into every single part of my life, I'm getting used to it though. It's sometimes even quite nice for someone to know me better than I occasionally know myself.
It's just Jane's way of playing me. I know that, yet I don't stop it. I never stop him if he's invading my life personally, only work. It's a little odd and disconcerting to say the least.
Fandom: The Mentalist
Rating: K+
Summary: Why did her brother buy her this silly little diary?!
Authors Note: First prompt from table H from mentalistprompt. Prompt: 'Dear Diary...'
Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the show.
Dear Diary,
What a stupid, cliched way to start. I haven't written in one of these things since I was about ten. It was such a pointless present. James must have realised that when he bought it, he's my brother, how could he not know I wouldn't like it? I don't even know why I opened it, never mind started scribbling in it. He is so like Jane: he always does or buys the most irrelevant things for me. Jane bought me a keyring with a Christmas tree on it, I mean, okay, the horse had a reason behind it but this doesn't. It is the middle of April, not December!
I hate birthdays. I really do. What is the big attraction of being surrounded by more people than necessary just to receive gifts that I probably will not use for the rest of my life. At least Jane brings a bit of fun and surprise to the situations. The rest of the team honestly think I like being fussed over on days like these, they have no idea how wrong they are. It only makes me want to go back to the past when - for one day per child per year - mum and dad would silently agree to not argue or drink and we would have a good time.
I pretend to have fun now and I think Jane can see how little interest I have in the whole farce but he keeps quiet, he knows that the rest of the team get incredibly excited when they can relax more around me. I know I am their boss but it sometimes gets quite lonely because they don't talk to me about their lives since I'm the head bitch and I admittedly am one of the most awkward people to approach about personal issues. It's hard for Jane, he has no one that he can talk to for hours on end about his family with, he understands that I would be willing to listen but that neither of us would actually be comfortable about it; he would ultimately get upset and I don't know how to cope with crying people. I just wish he would get some help. Anything, even if he wrote it down it might be therapeutic because bottling up all the hurt like he does is not helping.
Today has been exhausting because of the fake happiness, the inevitable papercuts from Van Pelt and Cho's tightly wrapped presents and of course another sick, twisted killer that we had to spend our day hunting down. When I said 'we' I obviously meant everyone excluding Jane - he just sat on the couch as usual, sipping tea out of that silly little turquoise cup, yet still manages to beat the rest of us to work out the truth of the case.
Why does time always move so slowly when I just want the day to finish? It feels like I should be going to bed now but I have apparently only been home for a couple of hours. It's times like this that I hate being alone, if there was someone else in here then there would be a chance to have an adult conversation and simply a relationship with someone who didn't think I ruled over their time and life. My job took over everything when I joined, now I have no idea if I'll ever have a proper family; kids haven't always been on my list of wants but time to actually have one is running out and I'm beginning to get a little broody. Yes, the senior agent of a homicide unit wants a tiny little person to get annoyed with. Does my mind really think that a child and Jane are so different, is one not enough to deal with?
This will be the first and last entry I ever make in this pink book. Pink for me? I honestly think he took something before going birthday shopping. Unsurprisingly, Jane has managed to taken up the majority of this page, he manages to weave himself into every single part of my life, I'm getting used to it though. It's sometimes even quite nice for someone to know me better than I occasionally know myself.
It's just Jane's way of playing me. I know that, yet I don't stop it. I never stop him if he's invading my life personally, only work. It's a little odd and disconcerting to say the least.