FIC: Not Alright
Title: Not Alright
Fandom: The Mentalist
Rating: T
Summery: A look at Grace in the possible aftermath of a Jane and Red John show down.
Notes: Written for Toya for the Paint it Red stocking exchange
Not Alright
Everyone thought about how Lisbon was. They all asked her if she was alright, if she needed anything. They all wanted to make sure that she wasn’t going to have a breakdown of some sort. After all, she was closest to Jane. She was the one who was his confidant…when he confided in anyone.
But she wasn’t the one who was with him. She wasn’t the one who watched as he sunk a knife into the man who was tied to a chair. She wasn’t the one who screamed at him to stop, to not jeopardize his life for this petty revenge. She wasn’t the one who’d wept over his broken body when after the local police opened fire.
Grace was still numb. She wrote her report on auto pilot. She answered the questions of her superiors. She dotted all the I’s and crossed alt T’s. And as she drove home that night she couldn’t get the sight out of her head.
The man, Jane said he was Red John, but who really knew if that was true, blood pouring from the twisted knife in his gut, most likely already dead. She could still hear her own voice, calling, crying to him to stop, to back away from the body. But he hadn’t listened. He’d pulled the knife out and went to plunge it again into his body. And then the guns. She’d not noticed the officers coming into the room. But she saw them when they too started yelling. And the shooting, and it was loud and the smell of gunpowder hit her in the face.
She didn’t know how she made it home. How she made it inside. But she did. She was in the shower, trying to wash away the blood and the gun powder and the smells and sounds. But it wasn’t going to happen. And she would go to work in the morning and she wouldn’t be alright. But no one would ask. Because she wasn’t the one they thought about.
Fandom: The Mentalist
Rating: T
Summery: A look at Grace in the possible aftermath of a Jane and Red John show down.
Notes: Written for Toya for the Paint it Red stocking exchange
Not Alright
Everyone thought about how Lisbon was. They all asked her if she was alright, if she needed anything. They all wanted to make sure that she wasn’t going to have a breakdown of some sort. After all, she was closest to Jane. She was the one who was his confidant…when he confided in anyone.
But she wasn’t the one who was with him. She wasn’t the one who watched as he sunk a knife into the man who was tied to a chair. She wasn’t the one who screamed at him to stop, to not jeopardize his life for this petty revenge. She wasn’t the one who’d wept over his broken body when after the local police opened fire.
Grace was still numb. She wrote her report on auto pilot. She answered the questions of her superiors. She dotted all the I’s and crossed alt T’s. And as she drove home that night she couldn’t get the sight out of her head.
The man, Jane said he was Red John, but who really knew if that was true, blood pouring from the twisted knife in his gut, most likely already dead. She could still hear her own voice, calling, crying to him to stop, to back away from the body. But he hadn’t listened. He’d pulled the knife out and went to plunge it again into his body. And then the guns. She’d not noticed the officers coming into the room. But she saw them when they too started yelling. And the shooting, and it was loud and the smell of gunpowder hit her in the face.
She didn’t know how she made it home. How she made it inside. But she did. She was in the shower, trying to wash away the blood and the gun powder and the smells and sounds. But it wasn’t going to happen. And she would go to work in the morning and she wouldn’t be alright. But no one would ask. Because she wasn’t the one they thought about.