A/N: I wrote this a while ago but I thought I'd upload it anyhow, I believe I paused right in the middle of this episode to write this if memory serves. Regardless though, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Mentalist or any characters associated with it. This is a work of pure fiction.
Summary:Grace and Wayne crawling into bed at night after 2x08
Bloody Figments by Flyingnymphlady

They clung to each other that night like life preservers long after the ship has gone down. There were no tear stained pillows because all of their tears had fallen onto each other, small patches of marked skin their only reminiscence. The alarm clock glared at them with accusation but neither cared how late it was or the impending countdown for work. Work seemed like a bad dream, a nightmare on repeat.

When Van Pelt had first heard the stories of Red John he had been nothing more than a figment of Jane's past. Red John had been very real but distant enough that she hadn't let him get to her. After today though Red John was terrifyingly close, strikingly real. Grace felt numbed by the abrupt realization, the only thing she could feel were Rigby's arms around her. In Grace's moment of vulnerability he was there to chase away her doubts, Wayne always protected her even when it put him at risk.

Rigsby couldn't hold Grace close enough. Every gap between them taunted him as if saying, "Red John can her hurt, you're not close enough- you can't keep her safe.". Rigsby continued to kiss her hair long after the purpose had fulfilled itself, murmuring little antidotes and proclamations of his affection and promises of protection. He felt as if he couldn't protect her from Red John and he knew she felt the same about him. Reassuring her with false promises was the next best thing to the truth for them. Their reality wasn't an option, it wasn't something they could handle right now.

Four agents were dead at the hands of Red John today and now two lay in bed wondering if they were going to be next. They had signed up to be cops, to help people and to even catch killers when necessary but this was the first time something had ever hit home so hard. All at once agents Van Pelt and Rigsby were coming to realize just how dangerous their attachment was becoming.

"Rigsby?" Grace's voice cracked as it ghosted to Wayne's ears, "I know you tell me that you love me all the time-"

"Gracie, I know, it's okay." Wayne soothed, gently stroking her hair in an attempt to relieve even a fraction of stress.

"No,- No I have to say this." She responded with resolution in her voice. Breaking from his hold Grace lifted herself up to meet Wayne's eyes, her fingers drifting over his bushy eyebrows with unreserved fondness, "Wayne Rigsby no matter what happens I want you to know that I love you. I love you and I'm going to keep on loving you even after you're sick and tired on me I'm still gonna love you."

"Grace, I," Wayne was choking on his words, almost unable to process what Van Pelt was saying to him. He was always the one to shower her with his feelings and had never pressured her for such in return but here she was giving it to him freely. "I love you to Gracie, more than you will ever know. We're gonna catch Red John and we're gonna punish him. And then, when we're safe I'm gonna ask you out on a proper date." He paused, "Someday I'm gonna marry you."

And someday, she knew he would.

- End -

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