Log in

No account? Create an account
September 2013   01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30
You Never Know What You Have
Author: vanrigsby
Artist: kathiann
Link to art: Here
Word Count:
Rating: T -  major character death.
Summary: You never know what you have until you lose it. Once you lose it, you can never get it back. Five times Red John took Lisbon from Jane (and one time he didn't.)
Notes: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. A lot. It was hard to write, but hopefully turned out okay. A major thanks to kathiann, for putting up with me.

Under a cut because I was asked to :)Collapse )

Author: vanrigsby
Artist: casper_san
Link to art: Here
Word Count: 6193
Rating: T
Summary: After a shooting, Grace becomes the wanted one. (Idea kind of taken from the season 3 finale, but no spoilers)
Disclaimer: Yeah, it's not mine. As it's unbetaed, all mistakes are though.
Notes: TRIED not to make it a casefic. I suck at those, so I may have skirted around the details of that a little. Sorry if it ruins your experience, but it was the best I could do.
And, another thing, I have NO idea about California’s geography. Can we pretend that there is a forest or something near where Grace’s dad lives? About an hour’s drive, then a good 30 or 45-minute walk. Suspend disbelief, if you may. You’ll understand why later on.
Here we go...Collapse )

JLH Ghost

Well, lookie here. A meme.

Posted on 2013.03.30 at 21:58
Current Mood: confusedconfused
Current Music: Without You - Hinder
Stolen from tromana, as I was stalking her journal.

Pick a number and I will flail at you in the comments!

1 - Your current OTP.
2 - A pairing you initially didn’t consider but someone changed your mind.
3 - A pairing you have never liked and probably never will.
4 - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t.
5 - Have you added anything stupid/cracky/hilarious to your fandom? If so, what?
6 - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom?
7 - Do you remember your first OTP? If so who was in it?
8 - Do you prefer characters from real action series or anime series?
9 - Has the internet caused you to stop liking any fandoms? If so, which and why?
10 - Name a fandom you didn’t care/think about until you saw it all over tumblr your social network sites.
11 - How do you feel about the other people in your current fandom?
12 - Your favorite fanartist/author gives you one request. What do you ask for?
13 - Your favorite fanart or fanartist.
14 - Your favorite fanfiction or fanauthor.
15 - Choose a song at random. Which OTP does it remind you of?
16 - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas).
17 - A ship you’ve abandoned and why.
18 - A pairing you ship that you don’t think anyone else ships.
19 - Show us an example of your personal headcanon.
20 - Do you remember what your first fanwork was?
21 - Self-rec: What's your favorite fanwork you've created?
22 - Are you one of those fans who can’t watch anything without shipping?
23 - 5 favorite characters from 5 different fandoms.
24 - 3 OTPs from 3 different fandoms.
25 - A fandom you’re in but have no ships from.
26 - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go.

JLH Ghost

Just Like Heaven

Posted on 2013.03.28 at 13:34
Current Mood: accomplished
Tags: , , , ,
Just Like Heaven
Author: vanrigsby
Artist: miss_peg
Link to art: http://asilentspace.livejournal.com/19388.html
Word Count: 11,206
Rating: T for violence.
Summary: When Red John attacks, but doesn't finish the job, the team races against the clock to both find him and save the victim, with a little unexpected help. Plot is loosely based on the movie Just Like Heaven.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, neither of us own anything. Well, not sure about miss_peg, but I only own the first four seasons on DVD and a couple of posters and t-shirts and that's about it. We just like to play in this glorious sandbox. All credit to the honourable Bruno Heller and CBS for The Mentalist and the creators of Just Like Heaven. No copyright infringement intended. All mistakes are my own (unbetaed).
Notes: This fic was originally a Little Bang, but I got a little carried away… Thankfully, miss_peg had already made extra art, the wonderful person she is! Many thanks to her for willing to take me on, I know I'm not always the best person to work with.


Part 1: http://vanrigsby.livejournal.com/8355.html


“What?” Lisbon, Rigsby and Grace chorused, all three heads snapping back to look at the man in question. Cho remained unfazed; his chocolate eyes had never strayed from the men.

“Number one, please take out your contact lenses,” Lisbon said, with a sceptical glare at Jane.

The man in question sighed and pulled out his contacts. He looked down at his hands as he placed the lenses side by side in his palm, curling his fingers around them.

Rigsby watched the process in silence, Grace hovering by his shoulder. He turned his head slightly towards her, whispering, “anything yet?”

“No, still nothing,” came her reply.

The man looked up, and Rigsby blinked in shock. His irises were gold. Not just that kind of green-gold that people use in books when they try to make someone seem more enticing, but gold.

Rigsby took a deep breath, preparing to let it out in a sigh, when the redhead beside him shrieked.

“Oh my god,” she cried, and Rigsby turned to look at her. “Oh my god,” she repeated, this time her voice soft and muffled as her hands fluttered shakily to cover her mouth. She subconsciously stepped further and further backwards and Rigsby lost sight of her when she stepped through the back wall. He turned back to the viewing window to avoid drawing attention.

“Anything now?” Lisbon asked from his right, seeming to not have noticed his shock.

Rigsby remained silent, not knowing how to respond. “Um…” his voice trailed off as he waited for his spirit-like companion to return.

“Rigsby,” Jane’s voice came from across the room, his tone undecipherable.

“Hang on,” he held up a hand, making as if he needed a moment. Which, in fact, he did, while he waited for Grace to calm down and return.

She did come back after a few seconds, Rigsby turned his head quickly and noticed her return. She moved forward timidly, her hands clasped, still shaking, in front of her. He noticed he she was so scared, goose bumps had broken out along her legs (which he still had a fantastic view of) and arms.

He reached his hand out slightly behind him, opening it up to face his palm to her. She took the cue, and placed her palm flush against his for reassurance. Electricity shot through him, burning like pinpricks of pleasant fire, but he remained still.

Grace stepped forwards, getting as close as she dared to Rigsby without actually stepping into him. He felt her presence by his shoulder, but didn’t dare turn around.

“Wayne,” her voice was quiet and fragile. He fought the urge to turn around and gather her in his arms, “it was that one.” Her voice broke as she spoke the last word, and he could hear the river of tears threatening to pull her under. Her long, slender arm reached over his shoulder and pointed to the man on the far left, that had removed his contact lenses. Gold irises stared unblinking back at the pair, watching them impossibly through the one-way glass.

“Sure?” Rigsby asked, his voice low as to avoid attention.

“Positive,” Grace’s voice was steady now, convinced.

Rigsby nodded.

“Lisbon?” his boss looked at him, as did Jane and Cho. “Him,” Rigsby’s voice almost became a growl as he lifted a finger to point to the man with the tell-tale golden irises. “That’s the man that attacked Grace.”

He was almost shaking with the effort it took to keep himself composed. His eyes glared daggers at the man on the other side of the mirror, the man that had attacked and hurt his Grace.

“That’s Red John,” Jane’s voice held a cocktail of emotions. Contempt, fear, awe and, most of all, absolute fury.

Rigsby couldn’t take it any more. He made a move for the door of the observation room, preparing to storm out to face that monster. He didn’t know what he was going to do after that, but he figured that he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

A tough voice and a strong hand on his arm stopped him in his tracks.

“Rigsby, man, stop,” Cho said from beside him.

Rigsby made another move for the door, and the Asian man’s grip grew tighter. When he tried to shrug his friend off, Cho spun him around.

“No, Rigsby,” Cho said, looking up at the taller agent. “Don’t do this, man.”

Rigsby noticed Cho’s brown eyes filled with rare emotion. Concern shone from the depths. Rigsby bit his lip and watched his friend’s eyes flick quickly to Jane, who had up until now remained silent and still, like a statue.

“That’s Red John,” the blonde repeated softly, strangely calm. Then, he snapped. Rigsby watched as the consultant’s face turned from a neutral mask to one of fury, as his whole body tensed up, like a tiger ready to pounce.

He spun on his heel and made for the door, as Rigsby had done only moments before.


Jane’s vision was tainted with red. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

“That’s Red John,” he said a second time, trying to come to terms with the fact, keeping his voice neutral. His head was swimming, he felt like he was drowning, struggling to break through the surface of his own tumultuous thoughts. The man on the other side of the mirror was the same man that killed his wife and daughter. The same man that had watched the life literally bleed out of his gorgeous Angela and his precious Charlotte. That man had taken his two loves from this world, left him to die a little more inside every day, torture him with every waking, and sleeping, moment.

Tears pricked painfully at the backs of his eyes. He didn’t know what he wanted to do. He was torn between wanting to break down and cry, scream until his lungs burst or stamp over and rip the guy’s throat out. He settled for the third option.

Spinning on his heel, he stormed towards the door. He made it about three steps before he felt a hand on his arm.
He looked down and found a slim, pale hand clutched desperately around his upper arm. His features softened as he met the owner’s green eyes.

“Jane, please,” her voice was as pleading as her hand was.

He stepped towards her, taking in her facial expression. Her wide green eyes were churning with emotions, worry for him making its way to the surface, and she had that adorable little line in between her eyebrows. She still hadn’t let go of his arm yet. He took another step forward, only a sliver of space between the two of them remained.

“I’m sorry, Lisbon. I’m sorry,” he turned, shrugging from her grip and walking from the room, leaving his petite boss dumbfounded and worried.

He rounded the corner and opened the door to the interview room. The three men looked back at him, stunned. Jane pulled Lisbon’s gun out from behind his back and pointed it at Red John. The other two men shrunk back, frightened.

“You may go,” he gestured to the door, and the men scurried out of the room, the gun in the consultant’s hand still trained on Red John.

“Ah, Patrick Jane,” a sadistic smile spread across Red John’s face as he focused his gold eyes on the mentalist.

“Red John,” he said, in just as low and careful a voice. That was all he managed to get out before the door to the room burst open and a very shocked and terrified Lisbon rushed through.

“Jane!” he could hear it in her voice. She cared for him. She didn’t want to lose him. If he were honest, he didn’t want to lose her either.

“Not now Lisbon,” he said, harsher than he meant to. Why couldn’t she just leave him? He needed to do this.

“Jane,” this time her voice was quieter, more pleading. He could hear that she was moving closer, slowly and warily. Her scent came nearer to him, a hint of cinnamon floating through the air.

He turned his head to look at her, only slightly and only briefly. But it was that fraction of a second that gave Red John the time he needed to dip his hand in his pocket and procure a knife.

When Jane looked back, his heart almost stopped beating. The knife glimmered in the brightness of the room, matching the vicious twinkle in Red John’s eyes.

Jane subconsciously stepped in front of Lisbon, his hand and gun unwavering.

“Put it down,” it was like he didn’t even know it was him who had spoken, his voice was foreign to even him.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you Mr Jane?”

“You’re in a building full of policemen and women. You really think you’re gonna get away with anything?”

“You wish that was true.”

“Patrick,” Lisbon’s strained voice distracted the consultant for a fraction of a second. And that fraction of a second was all Red John needed.

He lunged.


Lisbon’s heart leapt into her throat when she saw Red John make for Jane.

A gunshot echoed in the small room, the sound of the door slamming open adding to the cacophony. Rigsby and Cho rushed into the room as Lisbon watched Red John fall to the ground. Blood bloomed from his shoulder as he tried to stand. Rigsby and Cho were on him in a flash, pinning him to the ground.

Lisbon stepped forward, closing the gap between her and Jane. She placed one hand on his upper arm.

“You’re a bastard,” Jane spat out the words like they were poison. “A cold, evil bastard!”

At Jane’s last words, he began to get frantic, and his eyes took on that hysterical gleam that Lisbon had only seen when Jane was talking about Red John.

“Jane,” Lisbon grabbed his other arm and began to pull him backwards.

Jane lunged against her hands, but she held fast, dragging him to the door as her agents cuffed Red John and read him his rights.

They finally made it out the door, and Jane leaned heavily against the wall.

“I couldn’t do it,” Jane sighed, sounding defeated.

“What?” Lisbon asked, perplexed. She still rested her hand on his arm subconsciously.

“I couldn’t kill him.”

Lisbon knew that Jane could have shot Red John dead if he’d wanted to. He was, in fact, a good shot when he wanted to be. He could have even pleaded self-defence. God knows Lisbon would have backed that up. So why didn’t Jane kill him when he’d had the chance?

“You want to know,” Jane looked into her eyes, and she suppressed a shiver. His eyes were the shade of blue that only happened when he was trying to read her, interpret her innermost thoughts.

Lisbon just looked at him; he already knew the answer.

“Well,” even as she watched, she could see Jane’s mask slipping back into place, “let’s just say that maybe, even after all these years, a certain senior special agent has finally gotten under my skin.” This last statement was accompanied with one of his trademark mega-watt grins. He reached out and pulled her into a hug.

Lisbon was confused. After all this time, he’d finally listened to her? All the ‘Jane, don’t touch that’, ‘Jane, don’t annoy the senator’, ‘Jane, just leave it alone’, and he’d managed to take in the ‘Jane, please don’t kill Red John’?

She wrapped her arms around his waist as his arms enveloped her. She could feel his heart, beating so hard from just shooting Red John, and his body was trembling slightly. She knew the second that Cho emerged from the room with Red John, Jane’s body became rigid and he inhaled deeply. Lisbon’s hand rubbed his back soothingly as she held him tighter.

“You’re okay Jane,” she pulled away, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek the moment Red John had left. “You’re gonna be okay.”
“Thank you Teresa,” he kissed her hair when she rested her head on his shoulder. “I never thought I’d have anything after Red John. But thank you for being here.”

“Always, Jane.”

“Now,” he let her go, and the characteristic cheeky smile was back on his face, “don’t you have some kind of paperwork to do?”

“Yes,” the soft smile Lisbon had been wearing slipped off her face and she sighed, thinking just how much she would have after everything that had happened. “No thanks to you.”

“Oh, Lisbon,” Jane had already begun to walk to her office, Lisbon trailing unenthusiastically behind.

“I may even help this time!”


Rigsby had watched the whole scene unfold, unable to move. He’d thought about moving plenty, but his body just wouldn’t comply. That was, until the shot rang out. He’d thought Lisbon had it all under control, but when the gun went off, it became obvious that she didn’t. At the sound of the shot, both Cho and himself had subconsciously reacted, their police senses taking over and catapulting them into action.

They’d both jumped, and raced for the exit of the room. Cho made it through first, throwing open the door. Rigsby followed, about to reach for his handcuffs before realising that Cho already had his out. They slammed open the door, and Rigsby glanced around for a fraction of a second. Jane as shaking, he’d dropped the gun, Lisbon was behind him with one hand on his arm. Red John was on the floor, writing in pain. In an instant, Cho and Rigsby had pinned down Red John, and roughly cuffed him.

 “Wayne,” Rigsby looked up at the sound of Grace’s voice. “Thank you.”

He gave her a small smile as he hoisted Red John roughly to his feet, looked over at the sound of the door opening. He watched Lisbon drag a struggling Jane out of the room. Cho put his hand on the cuffs and one on Red John’s shoulder, shoving him forward.

“I got it,” he told Rigsby, sensing that the larger man needed a moment to compose himself.

“Don’t let go,” Rigsby gestured to the handcuffs.

Cho nodded, and left the room, reading Red John his rights as they exited behind Jane and Lisbon. Rigsby and Grace were alone.

“Thank you for doing this, Wayne,” Grace said to him, stepping closer.

“It was nothing, Grace,” Rigsby smiled back at her.

“I so wish I could hug you right now!” Grace threw her hands in the air, exasperation written on her smiling face.

Rigsby allowed himself a small smile. Grace held out her hand, and Rigsby met her eyes, confused.

“If I can’t hug you, just shake my hand in thanks,” she smiled at him, her eyes dancing with amusement and playfulness.

“Okay,” Rigsby reached out his hand, and placed it so that it was touching hers. He was careful not to actually put his hand through hers.

A strange sensation tickled his palm and up his arm. It was like tiny bolts of electricity shooting through his veins. He could have sworn he saw their hands glow.

“So,” Grace said, pulling her hand away slowly, “Red John’s done.”

Rigsby looked at her face before he answered her remark. She looked like she’d felt the shock too.

“Yeah,” he answered. “Yeah he is.”

“Now what?”

Rigsby shrugged his shoulders. “Paperwork?”


Rigsby shuffled the paper around on his desk, searching for the sheet he needed. He’d been doing paperwork for almost half an hour, and he was already sick of it. The only thing that made it better was having Grace by his desk the whole time.

“I’m gonna head off now Wayne,” her voice floated to his ears over the sounds of the office. He looked up.

“Oh, okay,” he tried not to convey the sadness he felt at that, thanking his lucky stars that Cho had chosen this moment to go to the bathroom so he could talk freely to his redhead.

“I just don’t want it to be harder than it will already be,” was her response.

Rigsby’s look must have conveyed how confused he was, because she continued.

“I don’t want you to see me fade away. I can feel it coming. Red John’s gone, it’s had an effect on this ghostly version of me, I guess. It’s hard to explain. I just know. I’ll see you when I wake up, okay?”

Rigsby nodded, wondering what would go down when she did wake up. Would she even remember all this?

“Goodbye for now Wayne,” Grace lay a hand on Rigsby’s shoulder (well, as best she could).

“Goodbye Grace. See you soon.”


It turns out Jane’s version of ‘helping’ with paperwork was really just shuffling Lisbon’s papers around, creating a lot of noise in the process, and making paper planes and origami animals out of the scrap pieces. One too many of these landed on Lisbon’s work.

“Jane!” Lisbon said, exasperated, “trying to work here.”

“Oh, Lisbon, I had no idea,” Jane’s eyes held an impish gleam.

Lisbon rolled her eyes and returned to her work, but not before crumpling up Jane’s latest paper plane and tossing it into the bin.

Jane continued to shuffle the papers and make origami while Lisbon worked. After a few minutes of blissfully uninterrupted writing, Lisbon’s phone rang shrilly, and she fished in her pocket to retrieve it. Pulling it out, she gestured to Jane to be quiet.

“Lisbon,” she said into her mobile. “Jane!” she whispered harshly when he continued shuffling the paper around. He stopped, looking up at her with mock innocent eyes. She rolled her eyes back at him. “I’m sorry, you were saying?” she returned to talking to the person on the other end of the phone.

“Miss Lisbon, you asked to be notified if Grace Van Pelt woke up?” Dr Martin’s rough voice floated into her ear.

Lisbon breathed in quickly, already reaching for her keys.


“She’s showing signs of increased brain activity, we assume she’ll be awake in the next half-hour or so. Assume being the operative word. Nothing’s ever certain in matters involving the brain, but it’s looking good.”

“Okay, thank you,” she hung up and yanked her jacket from the back of her chair, shoving her phone in the pocket as she did so.

“Grace?” Jane was on his feet, making his way towards her.

“Yes,” Lisbon shrugged on her jacket and stepped towards the door. “You coming?”

Jane nodded, and the two of them stepped through the door.


Jane and Lisbon had grabbed Rigsby on the way, made their way to the hospital as fast as speed limits would allow. They practically ran through the door and straight to Grace’s room.

Rigsby was the first through the door, he had insisted.

The other officer that was already present, Officer Hudson by his engraved nametag, stood when Rigsby came practically hurtling through the door.

“Is she awake yet?” his voice was almost frantic.

“No,” came the response. Jane and Lisbon walked in after Rigsby, a lot calmer than he had been.

Rigsby looked at Grace. She was still immobile on the bed, her eyes still closed. However, her face was fuller, her cheeks rosier, and she just had an overall glow about her. Rigsby gave a half-smile as he sat on the chair nearest the bed. Jane and Lisbon took the chairs on the other side of the bed.

Rigsby reached out and took Grace’s hand.

“Wayne,” her soft melodic voice made him turn his head slightly toward her.

He looked her over. She was still dressed in her pyjamas, her hair hanging perfectly, her face looking naturally beautiful without the aid of make-up. As he watched, she was literally disappearing before his eyes.

“Grace,” his voice came out in a whisper.

“Wayne,” she repeated, becoming almost transparent now, her voice fading as her body did. “I’m waking up.”

“Grace,” tears sprang to his eyes, he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “What if you don’t make it?”

“It’s okay, Wayne,” the last thing he saw was a small smile tug at the corners of her perfectly formed mouth.

The room went silent. Well, as silent as a hospital room can be. The heart monitor beeped steadily, and various machines let off hisses
and blips. Rigsby bit his lip, fighting the urge to cry. She’d wake up. Now was the time.

He studied her face intently, watching for any sign of movement.

“C’mon Grace,” he murmured, leaning forward. “Come on.”

And then, the most miraculous thing happened. As he was peering so closely at her face, he saw her eyelids flutter.

“Hi,” he whispered, as her eyes slowly blinked opened.

Her green orbs sought out his face, and he leant over with a soft smile.

“Rigsby,” she looked at him with eyes full of confusion, “what happened?”

His heart sank. He slipped his hand from hers as Lisbon and Jane greeted her. He sat back hard in his chair as Grace smiled at the other two.

She didn’t remember.

Nothing about what had happened with the two of them, what had gone down with Red John. She had no idea.

She didn’t remember.

He watched as Lisbon raised the head of Grace’s bed and the three continued to talk. He couldn’t talk to her about anything that had happened. Her brain was still recovering; she already had too much to deal with. He couldn’t burden her with this. It would just have to be something that he’d remember forever, and keep to himself.


Rigsby waited patiently behind Grace as she opened her front door.

“I can do this myself Wayne,” she made to reach for the black bag that Rigsby held.

“No,” he jerked the bag from her reach. “I’m coming in, at least for dinner. I promised Lisbon I’d look after you, at least for tonight. It’s your first night out of the hospital.”

Grace sighed. “It’s not like I’m an invalid, Wayne.”

“I know. But you’re still not getting rid of me.”

The redhead rolled her eyes and turned to walk inside the apartment. Rigsby followed her, Grace’s bag still held in his hand.

It was even more beautiful than he remembered. The soft orange of the setting sun streamed in through the windows that lined one wall, bathing the room in a gentle glow. Her furniture was exactly as he remembered, all homely pieces that weren’t ‘matchy-matchy’, but fit. The only thing he noticed that she’d changed was that a navy blue couch had replaced her old cream-coloured one.

“It was getting old,” Grace answered his unspoken question, noticing him looking at the newest addition to her apartment. “Plus, I kept spilling things on it.”

This elicited a small chuckle from Rigsby. He lifted up the overnight bag that he hadn’t yet put down. “Where do you want this?”

“I’ve got that,” she told him, taking it from his hand. She headed down the hallway in the direction of her bedroom, tossing over her shoulder, “you can see what’s in the fridge for dinner.”

Rigsby sighed as he turned to make his way to the kitchen. Either she really, truly didn’t remember what had happened, or she was just faking it exceptionally well. And, knowing Grace, there was only a very slim chance that she could have fooled him this well. They’d always been able to tell when the other was lying.

Rigsby opened the fridge door, scanning the contents idly. He grabbed a couple of beers from the top shelf and sat them on the counter behind him. Seeing nothing that could really count as a proper meal, he straightened, shutting the fridge door.

“There should be some pizza in the freezer I think,” Grace said, reappearing from her room.

Rigsby looked over at her, and she flashed him a dazzling smile. He took a fraction of a second to admire her beauty in the light of the setting sun. Her red hair took on a slightly more orange tone, and her green eyes sparkled with life. The light streaming in behind her lit up her stray hairs and made them shine, almost like a halo. The bright smile on her face did nothing to lessen the angelic effect.

“Pizza,” he said, more to shake himself out of the stupor he had fallen into rather than confirm her statement. He turned and opened the freezer. Sure enough, there was a pizza box sitting on the top shelf. He pulled it out and laid it on the bench.

Grace got up from her chair to help him; bustling around the kitchen collecting the things they would need to eat. Rigsby moved to put the pizza in the microwave.

“So, you don’t remember anything?” Rigsby asked, a flicker of hope sparking in his chest as the two of them continued the domestic routine, slipping into an easy rhythm.

“It’s all a big black hole,” Grace answered, as she opened the beers and put them on the table. “The last thing I remember is fighting with some guy in Lisbon’s house. Then I opened my eyes and I was staring at the hospital ceiling.”

Rigsby nodded, trying to appear nonchalant about it, when inside he was terribly disappointed. Something had happened between the two of them while Grace had been a ‘ghost’. That old spark that had once shone so bright had flared again. He’d felt it; he was so sure she’d felt it too. But no matter what she’d felt, it was obviously gone now. And he didn’t want to push her, not after everything she’d been through, while she was still recovering from her coma.

Grace pulled the pizza from the microwave and put it on the plates Rigsby had set out. She brought them to where Rigsby was seated at the table. Sitting beside him, they began to eat.

When it came time for them to clean up, Rigsby was the first to stand.

“I can do it, Wayne,” Grace followed suit, taking the plates from Rigsby’s hands.

Rigsby let her take the plates, but collected the now-empty beer bottles to deposit in the bin.

The table was soon cleared, and Rigsby stood around awkwardly, not entirely sure whether he should leave or not.

“You wanna watch some TV?” Grace asked as she filled the sink with hot water, sensing his nervousness and attempting to dispel some of it.

“Sure,” Rigsby stepped towards her. “I’ll help with this first.”

Grace, realising that any attempts at rebutting him were futile, stepped aside to allow him to grab a tea towel.

So they continued for the few minutes it took to wash the minimal dishes in sparse chatter about light, irrelevant topics. Rigsby had to smile inwardly at how the two of them had managed to fall back into such a harmony with each other performing simple tasks so easily and quickly.

When they were done, all the dishes washed, dried and put away, they headed out to the lounge room. Rigsby took a seat on Grace’s new navy couch, feeling the unfamiliar material with his palm.

Grace sat down beside him. They both reached for the remote at the same time, their fingers brushing together for the briefest of moments.

Rigsby felt electricity course through him, beginning at his fingertips and spreading like wildfire up his arm. It wasn’t exactly an unpleasant burning, but it was a shock to him. He didn’t pull his fingers away, though. He looked up to Grace’s face to see if she felt it too. As he watched, her eyes turned from the smiling green orbs she’d had only moments before, to shock. He watched her eyes change again, and he knew she remembered.


Grace reached for the remote, and her fingers brushed Rigsby’s ever so slightly. In an instant, it felt like her hand was on fire, but in a good way. She felt the burning sensation travel up her arm, and then she saw it.

Bits and pieces of her time in the coma flashed before her eyes in rapid succession. Looking down on herself. Her and Rigsby sharing a laugh. Her team acting as if she wasn’t there. The man in the interrogation room. Being terrified. Shaking hands with Rigsby. Fading away. Waking up.

She felt as if her eyes had been opened. What was a black hole in her mind now shone with memories as bright and warm as the sun. She looked up from where she’d been staring at hers and Rigsby’s hands, still touching, and looked at his eyes. The baby blues were already watching her, gauging her reaction. Compassion, care and most of all, love, glimmered in his eyes. Her lips curved into the tiniest of smiles.

“I remember,” she said, so softly that she wasn’t even sure she’d said anything at all.

“You do?” she watched hope flicker in his eyes.

She nodded. “I remember.” She brought her hand up to his face, tracing his jawline with her fingertips. She leaned over and closed the gap between them, pressing her lips to his in a chaste kiss.

She pulled away, and his face broke into a smile.

“You remember.”

A/N: Well, there you go. I know it's not that great, and there were a few parts where I barely skimmed the surface of what I wanted to write due to time constraints. I may fix it up and repost it later. For now, though, this is Just Like Heaven. I hope you enjoyed, and don't forget to check out the art!

Blood And Sand

Just Like Heaven

Posted on 2013.03.28 at 13:30
Current Mood: accomplished
Tags: , , , ,
Just Like Heaven
Author: vanrigsby
Artist: miss_peg
Link to art: http://asilentspace.livejournal.com/19388.html
Word Count: 11,206
Rating: T for violence.
Summary: When Red John attacks, but doesn't finish the job, the team races against the clock to both find him and save the victim, with a little unexpected help. Plot is loosely based on the movie Just Like Heaven.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, neither of us own anything. Well, not sure about miss_peg, but I only own the first four seasons on DVD and a couple of posters and t-shirts and that's about it. We just like to play in this glorious sandbox. All credit to the honourable Bruno Heller and CBS for The Mentalist and the creators of Just Like Heaven. No copyright infringement intended. All mistakes are my own (unbetaed).
Notes: This fic was originally a Little Bang, but I got a little carried away… Thankfully, miss_peg had already made extra art, the wonderful person she is! Many thanks to her for willing to take me on, I know I'm not always the best person to work with. Be sure to check out her art!


There were no other sounds in the apartment aside from the rhythmic whirring of the fan, and every so often the sound of a page turning. Grace sat in the dark of the lounge room, illuminated only by light from a small lamp beside her. She smiled to herself. It was definitely a good idea house-sitting for Lisbon after all. She looked around the blackened room with a soft smile on her face. She hoped Lisbon was having fun in Chicago with her family. Grace looked back down at her book. She loved to read, but preferred to read in the silence and the darkness. It allowed her to focus, to completely immerse herself in the world of the characters. She found it a brilliant way to wind down after a tough case.

As she reached across and lifted up her glass of wine with a careful hand, she looked over at Lisbon’s dog, Benny. Well, technically not Lisbon’s dog, but she’d been looking after him ever since his owner had been the victim of a murder they had been investigating. Everyone already referred to him as Lisbon’s dog though.

“Hey baby,” she cooed, when she realised he was standing at the bottom of the staircase whining at her. “Come over here.”

When he simply turned away from her and walked up the stairs, still whining, she called again. He looked back at her, whined louder, and kept walking. Grace replaced her wine glass, put her bookmark in, and got up. He obviously wanted her to see something.
When she followed him to Lisbon’s bedroom, she noticed the pale blue curtains waving in a slight breeze.

That’s weird, she thought, as she walked over to the open window. I could have sworn I shut that. She was almost positive she had, as when she turned the air-con on, even in someone else’s house, she made it a habit to always walk around and shut all the open windows and doors. But then she remembered that when she’d come to this window, there had been a crash from the living room. It had turned out just to be Benny knocking her book off the coffee table, but she couldn’t remember whether she’d shut the window before she’d run out to check what made the clatter. She obviously hadn’t.

Grace made her way out to the living room to take her seat back on the couch. She noticed when Benny didn’t follow. She heard him whining faintly from Lisbon’s room still. He barked once, then fell silent. Shrugging it off, she re-opened her book and resumed reading.
A soft padding sound came from behind her and, thinking it was Benny, she turned to look. What she saw was not a cuddly golden retriever, but a very intimidating man. He wore a black ski mask, but she could see his irises, and they were a startling shade of gold. She saw something flicker in the glittering depths, surprise perhaps, before her police instincts kicked in. Reaching up, she locked her arms around his neck and flung him over the couch with a speed and strength that shocked even her. The mystery man landed on his back in front of her, but Grace barely had enough time to stand up before he was on his feet again, and reaching for her.

Grace grappled with the man. In the lone glow of the lamp on the table, she noticed something glint in his hand. Focusing on the reflection’s point of origin, she noticed that the man had a knife clutched in his grip. This added a certain sense of urgency to Grace’s actions.

She tried to fight him off, but he was deceptively strong. Grace gasped as she felt the knife slice through her thigh, and felt warm blood begin to run down her leg in a thick river. Gritting her teeth, she continued to fight the man, throwing in punches, knees and kicks where she could. She remembered from her days in training that she was supposed to drive the heel of her hand up into his nose. She did just that, and the man staggered backwards several steps. She exhaled heavily in triumph, before she realised that he was making his way back towards her. She’d broken his nose, she could see that, but he was acting as if it were only a minor injury.

The knife pierced her skin again, this time at her shoulder, and it sent a wave of agony down her arm. She fought the nearly overwhelming urge to scream in pain as she threw another punch, aiming for the man’s still-covered face. She caught a glimpse of her wound as her arm arced towards him. It was deep, and bleeding heavily.

She didn’t know how much more of this her body could take; she was already feeling weak from blood loss. Her mind momentarily distracted, her attacker got another slash in, and she felt pain blaze through her body like fire. She bit back the urge to curl up and sob in pain, and pushed him as hard as she could, trying to get the upper hand. However, her assailant had anticipated her move, and had raised his knife so it would slice the inside of her arm as she moved, running a cut from her wrist almost to the crook of her elbow. Grace took a step forward, trying to regain her balance, but felt her head snap to the side as a fist struck her in the jaw and sent her reeling sidewards. She didn’t even feel herself hit the floor; she was already falling into the black abyss of unconsciousness.


Red John stood over the body, breathing heavily. With a soft thud, his knife hit the floor by his feet. The redhead was out cold, weak from blood loss he assumed. He’d managed to get a good few slashes in with his knife, though she had fought a lot more than he’d expected her too, judging from her tall, thin frame.

He hadn’t wanted to attack the young agent, his intended target was supposed to be Teresa Lisbon. The women had looked the same in the darkness of the room. Patrick Jane wouldn’t be as upset with the death of the redhead over the petite brunette. But oh well, the deed was done now. Not really much he could do. He had to work with what he had.

He was contemplating his options when he heard the faint sound of a car turning on gravel outside. If the entire house hadn’t been eerily silent, he wouldn’t have even heard it. Leaning down, he swiped his fingers across Grace Van Pelt’s shoulder, and began to draw the smiley face on the wall he’d originally intended to mark with Lisbon’s blood. He grinned back at the macabre smiley as it began to drip slowly down the wall. When he was finished, he picked up his discarded weapon and slipped into the kitchen, through the back door, and vanished into the blackness.


Rigsby shifted his weight from foot to foot as he waited outside of Lisbon’s apartment. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea coming to visit Grace after all. Maybe she was just expecting a quiet night by herself. All he’d wanted to do was keep her company though. He knew first hand from looking after his best friend’s dog on more than one occasion what a handful babysitting an animal could be, so he’d come over to see if she needed any help.

Mustering up what he could of his courage, he raised his fist and knocked on the door. When he got no reply, he started to fret. Grace had said she’d be here all night tonight, he was 100% sure of it. She’d said, as she was leaving, that she was ‘heading home for a quiet night of nothing but reading and babysitting Benny’. He knocked on the door again, and when there was still no answer, he began to fish around in Lisbon’s garden for the place where he knew she kept her spare key.  With the small metal object in his hand, he stood in front of the door and unlocked it.

The door swung open, and first thing he saw was Benny, who was practically bursting out of the doorway to sniff his legs. As Benny turned and walked away, Rigsby noticed that he was leaving behind red paw prints.

The second thing he saw was the smiley face.


Rigsby rode in the ambulance with Grace.  He knew he should have struck around to give a statement, being the first to find the body and all, but he made a deal with Cho that he’d give one when he got back to the CBI.  Right now, the only thing important to him was Grace’s rapidly declining health. He knew Jane had other priorities, he’d known as soon as he’d seen the smiley face on the wall.
The ambulance ride felt like it took far too long, and Rigsby had to physically bite his tongue to keep from snapping at the driver.

Grace’s hand slipped from his as she was wheeled off the ambulance on a gurney.  Rigsby trailed after her, though there was really no use as she was already completely surrounded by paramedics, the men and women swarming around her like ants.

Rigsby stopped walking as they wheeled her through the double doors towards the emergency room, and he was left staring after, feeling utterly helpless. On that note, with a silent farewell to the redhead as she sped down the hall, he turned and headed back out to the street to call a taxi.

He returned to the news that Lisbon was already on a flight back from Chicago, and should be arriving within the next couple of hours.  Rigsby gave a statement of what had happened to Cho, and answered the routine questions.  Though it technically wasn’t a homicide case yet, as Grace was still alive, it was a Red John case and the Serious Crimes Unit was in charge of the investigation.

Rigsby looked over at Jane to see how he was dealing with the attack.  The blonde consultant sat immobile on his leather couch, staring unfocussed into the distance.  Rigsby couldn’t even begin to imagine the kind of emotional turmoil his brain must have been in.
“Hey man, you okay?” Cho’s voice came from behind him.  He turned to face the Asian agent, noting the slightest spark of concern hidden deep in his eyes.

“I will be” Rigsby answered him and then looked over at Jane.  “Is Jane okay?” he asked his partner.

Cho merely shrugged and walked back to his desk.

Rigsby continued to watch Jane, transfixed, as the consultant began to mutter to himself.  After a couple of moments he tore his gaze from the floorboards and met Rigsby’s.  The taller man fought the urge to take a step back; the sheer power of Jane’s cerulean eyes was so fierce.

“Grace wasn’t the target,” he stated, his voice unnervingly calm and low.

Rigsby’s jaw dropped and he managed a shocked and confused “What?”

Cho looked up from his computer screen.

“Grace wasn’t the target,” Jane continued, getting up from his couch and heading towards the pair of agents.  “Think about it. How many times has Red John ever left the victim alive?”  When he didn’t get an answer, he answered himself. “None. The smile was hurried, that much was obvious, and he didn’t even check if Grace was dead. What if Red John had been there to attack someone else, but Grace surprised him and they fought? Who else could he have wanted to attack there?” Jane’s voice started to take a slightly hysterical edge. “Guys, Grace wasn’t meant to be on the end of that knife – Lisbon was.”


Lisbon’s foot tapped restlessly on the floor of the aeroplane as she sat, fidgeting. She was literally helpless in this scenario, forced to sit for hours, doing absolutely nothing whilst one member of her team was in emergency surgery and two others began to fall apart without her there.  She wanted to be there for Jane as he struggled with the fact that a madman had attacked someone else he was close to.  Lisbon was itching to be there for her comrade, knowing that Rigsby would be too focussed on his own panic, and Cho being Cho, would simply continue to work doggedly on the case, digging for any possible information that could have been unearthed by the newest development in the Red John case. But all she could do was sit there and wait, sandwiched between a man with terrible BO and a woman who constantly complained to the flight attendant.

Cho looked up from his desk when his boss entered the bullpen. Lisbon looked around, seeing neither Jane nor Rigsby. Cho, anticipating her question, told her that Jane was in his attic and Rigsby had gone home to try to sleep off his frayed nerves.  Lisbon debated her options and checked her watch. Just after 1am. It was about time they all got to bed; they’d need fresh eyes to work in the morning, and pulling an all-nighter would wear dangerously on their already frazzled systems.

“I’ll go see Jane, then we’ll break for the night,” she told Cho as she turned and headed for the attic, leaving Cho to wonder whether the “we” included the consultant or not.


Jane’s head lifted from his makeshift bed to watch the petite brunette slip through the door. In a moment he was on his feet, enveloping her in one of his rare, but enthusiastic, hugs.  For a second Lisbon was stiff in his arms, but then tentatively wrapped them around his waist.

“It was supposed to be you” he muttered, barely audible, over and over again. His gentle hands stroked her hair softly and his face was buried in the raven tresses somewhere near her ear.

Lisbon inhaled softly, shocked by the news, but quickly recovered herself. She broke out of Jane’s grasp, slowly and not quite completely.

“It’s okay Jane. We need to focus on who did this, not who they did this to.”

Jane simply looked at her, and nodded. Lisbon was surprised at the amount of anguish shining in his ocean-blue eyes.

“Now, I’m going to head home to try and get a couple of hours sleep” she told him.  Then with a parting pat on his arm, “you should try to as well”.

When Lisbon got back down the stairs, she headed to the bullpen to tell Cho to go home for the night.

“Boss,” he called as she walked towards him. “CSU found clothing fibres at the scene that didn’t match Van Pelt’s. We’re running them now; they should have results by morning.”

Lisbon smiled at him gratefully. “And on that note, let’s call it a night.” Or a morning, she thought wryly to herself as she made her way to the elevator.


Rigsby’s first stop after her got ready the next morning was not the coffee place, as was his usual routine, but the hospital. The doctor had said Grace should be ready for visitors in the morning, but not to hold too much hope, as recovery rate varied for each patient. When he got there, he was told that Grace was in room 216, and a doctor was in there now, if Rigsby wished to speak to him.
On his way to the room, he considered the fact that he should have probably gone to work first, or at least told Lisbon he was going to be late. He shot her a quick text, and received a reply almost straight away. WE ARE HEADING THERE NOW, it read. MEET YOU THERE. Rigsby ran into the doctor as the other man was exiting Grace’s room. The doctor shot him a warm, friendly smile.

“I’m Agent Wayne Rigsby,” he told the doctor. “I’m a colleague of Grace’s. Would you mind coming back in about ten minutes to brief me and my team on her condition?”

The doctor nodded and smiled in response, then turned and trotted down the hallway.

Rigsby opened the door to Grace’s room. Inside was a man that he’d seen a couple of times before at various CBI functions. He greeted the man with a nod, and got one in return.

“I’ll leave you in here with her for now?”

Rigsby nodded, opening the door for the man.

“I’ll be just outside, yell if you need.”

The man exited the room, and Rigsby closed the door after him. He walked across the white expanse and took a chair by Grace’s sleeping form. He lifted on of her slim hands from where it lay and wrapped it in one of his larger ones. It was soft but tough, the hands of a police officer. He found his thumb making soft circles on the back of her hand as he studied her face. Her eyes were closed in sleep, and her face was relaxed and unlined. Her brilliant red hair fanned out on the pillow, making her look like an angel, and a strand of it draped across her forehead. Rigsby reached out to smooth it back, his hand automatically retracting when he heard someone enter the room. He looked up to find Jane and Lisbon standing in the doorway. They smiled gently at him, and Jane placed Grace’s treasured flower on the table by her head.

The doctor entered the room shortly after the pair did, and he greeted them all. He was a short man, with brown hair and tanned skin. He wasn’t exactly trim, but not terribly overweight. He had kind eyes and a warm smile. He began to tell them the extent of Grace’s injuries.

“We had to go into emergency surgery when she got here,” he said in a deep, resounding voice, “and she had to have quite a few stitches to close up those wounds.” He pointed with the end of a pen to Grace’s shoulder, thigh, inner forearm and side. “Multiple bruises and contusions from a fight. However, the biggest thing was her blood loss, which was dangerously close to a lethal level. Grace’s body, in order to cope with the physical and mental shock of such an ordeal, has put itself into a coma.”

The room inhaled a soft collective gasp, stunned into silence.

 After a beat, Rigsby spoke. “How long?” was all he said, in a strained voice.

“We don’t know,” the doctor, Dr Martin by his nametag, answered, turning to face the large man. “Could be days, weeks or even months. With matters of the brain, it’s notoriously hard to stick to a timeline.”

He was answered with a round of nods. Dr Martin bade them farewell, and left the room.

The trio looked between themselves in silence, Rigsby still clutching Grace’s limp hand. All of a sudden, a familiar voice came from behind him.

“God, I look awful.”

Rigsby spun, disbelieving, completely shocked when he faced the redhead. His eyes drank in the woman before him, comparing and noting the differences between the Grace standing in front of him, and the motionless Grace on the bed. Her face looked fuller, her skin glowed, and stunning green eyes looked down at him from beneath full lashes. Instead of being dressed in a hospital gown like the Grace on the bed, this Grace donned an old grey CBI t-shirt and spotted pink pyjama bottoms that gave Rigsby a good view of her mile-long legs.

“Rigsby,” Lisbon’s voice shot through his thoughts. “Are you okay?”

Rigsby looked between Lisbon and Grace quickly. Couldn’t’ she see her? Lisbon looked at Grace; well not so much looked at as through, as though she wasn’t even there. This confirmed Rigsby’s suspicions. He appeared to be the only one who could see her.
“I’m fine,” Rigsby answered his boss. “It’s nothing.”

Grace looked at him incredulously; opening her mouth to protest, but Rigsby silenced her with a glare. She shut her mouth and folded her arms with a huff. Rigsby bit back a grin. That woman was too adorable for her own good.

He looked at Lisbon and Jane, who had graduated to the opposite side of the bed to him.

“Let’s go,” Lisbon said, patting Grace’s comatose form on the shoulder. Jane followed suit, patting her on the hand. The two of them left the room, leaving Rigsby alone with the two Graces.

“So now I’m a nothing?” Grace began, but Rigsby cut her off.

“We’ll talk later,” he muttered firmly.

“Fine,” Grace huffed, and made her way to the door. She reached for the knob, and let out a small yelp when her hand passed straight through it. “Am I some kind of ghost?” she asked, a note of fear slipping into her voice, not completely sure whether she was talking to Rigsby or herself.

“I don’t know,” Rigsby answered, having watching the scene unfold with great interest. “But I do seem to be the only one who can see or hear you.” Grace nodded, biting her bottom lip thoughtfully.

“I’m gonna go yell at Jane and Lisbon. Jump around in front of them. See if it makes a difference.”

Before Rigsby could answer, she slipped hesitatingly through the door. He smiled after her and turned back to the other Grace. He leant down and kissed her softly on her porcelain cheek, the sensation oddly familiar. He opened the door, being sure to keep one eye on Grace, and allowed the other agent back into the room to look after Grace. They couldn’t take any chances; Red John was still out there.

When Rigsby walked out of the room, he found Lisbon and Jane leaning against the wall nearest to him, and Grace standing on the other side of the hallway, holding her cheek like it was made of glass. She caught Rigsby’s eyes and a smile ghosted across her lips as she traced her cheek with the tips of her fingers. Rigsby turned to his boss.


Lisbon smiled back at him and nodded.

The three of them walked down the hallway, Grace trailing behind. At the door, Lisbon and Jane turned left and Rigsby turned right, after a quick ‘meet you at the CBI’. He walked along a few paces in silence, but then a cheery ‘hey’ gave him a shock.

“God Grace, don’t do that,” he said, spinning to face her.

“Hey, gotta have some fun with this whole ghost thing, right?” She flashed a dazzling grin at him.

He returned it, looking both ways before opening the passenger side door of his car for her. She stepped in with a ‘thanks’ and he closed it after her.

When he got in and started the car, she surprised him by asking, “so why do you think I’m here?”

“You mean here, with me?” he asked, looking at her. “Or here as in, not in a full-coma, but able to walk around like a ghost?”

“The second one,” she said, turning her head from the window she was gazing out of. “Should we tell anyone?”

“I don’t know,” Rigsby replied, glancing at her for a moment. He was completely in shock as to how she seemed so calm about this whole thing. “Do you think so?”

“I think you’ll get called crazy,” Grace told him honestly. “So that would be a no. It’ll sort itself out eventually. Right?” she asked him, and when he tore his eyes from the road to look quickly at her, he saw fear and anxiety in her big green eyes. So, despite being not quite sure himself, he nodded.

“Of course it will.”


Lisbon smiled at Cho as she walked into the bullpen with Jane on her tail. She got the tiniest of smiles in return, accompanied by a “how is she?”

“Her brain’s put itself in a coma while it repairs her body. I talked to the doctor, and they’re pretty sure she’s gonna make a full recovery.”

“Good,” Cho was back to his usual stoic self. He reached out a manila envelope to her. “Got a match on the fibres. They match a rare and expensive leather jacket, made by a company called Pizazz. Only 300 sold in the whole of the U.S. I have the list here.”

“Three hundred? That’s a hell of a lot of suspects, and from all across America.” Lisbon’s brow was creased in thought as she tried to figure out how to narrow down the suspect pool.

At that moment, Rigby entered the bullpen with an unseen Grace.

“Hey,” he greeted his team. He would never admit it, but having Grace by him, even in ghost form, instead of in the hospital, brightened his mood considerably. It was the kind of effect she had on people.

Rigsby zeroed in on the manila folder laying open in Lisbon’s hands.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing.

Lisbon handed him the file. “Some black fibres were picked up by CSU on the corner of the coffee table,” Lisbon began telling Rigsby, as Grace peeked over his shoulder.

“I know where those are from,” Grace said excitedly. “That would be when I pulled him over the back of the couch and he landed on the floor,” the last part of her little speech held a note of pride in it.

Rigsby turned his head to look at her before quickly realising that it would look strange, so he looked back at the file.

“You okay?” Lisbon asked him.

“Yeah, just thought I felt something on my shoulder,” he replied. Lisbon just nodded sceptically.

Rigsby jumped a little when he felt Grace’s fingers dance along his shoulder. His surprise was answered with a giggle.

“So do we know what they are?” Rigsby queried, looking at his boss.

“Yeah, they’re from a leather jacket that has approximately 300 of it sold across the country.”

“And mostly from New York,” Cho interjected, rifling through a small stack of papers in front of him.

Rigsby blew his breath out in a sigh. “Three hundred hey?”

Jane, who up until now, had been laying on his couch in silence, spoke up. “Could we narrow the search down to just California?”

The team just looked at him, blinking.

“That’s a good idea,” Lisbon and Grace said almost in unison, though only to Rigsby.

“Here Cho,” Lisbon held out a hand. “Let’s spilt up the list and highlight any sales made in California.”

Cho split the stack into three approximately even piles, and handed one to both Lisbon and Rigsby.

Rigsby made his way back to his desk and sat down, pulling out a green highlighter. He looked over the first page Cho had given him. None from California. He pushed the page to one side and looked over the next page. He was about to push that one to the side when he heard Grace’s voice.

“Wait,” she said, and put her hand on the paper. However, she forgot that, in this state, she could pass right through the sheet, and through the wooden desk as well. She was able to regain her balance quickly, though, and Rigsby suppressed a smile. The redhead rolled her eyes at him and, carefully holding her hand above the paper, pointed at the words on the page.

"This one says California," she said in a singsong voice, grinning smugly at him.

Rigsby pulled the paper back in front of him and highlighted the correct information, placing the paper on the other side of the desk.
He turned his attention back to the stack in front of him, scanning the paper on top.


With Grace's help, he managed to finish the small stack reasonably quickly. Then he, Lisbon and Cho got back together to look at what they'd gleaned.

"Nothing," Cho said, laying down his stack.

"I got one," Rigsby put the sheet with the one highlighted line on the table between them, putting the rest on top of Cho's discarded pile.

"Two," Lisbon placed the two sheets on top of Rigsby's one.

"So three altogether," Grace said, from the chair beside Rigsby.

"Three altogether," Cho echoed.

Rigsby brow furrowed as he glanced over at the ghost-like girl beside him. Grace, anticipating his question, told him "I find if I concentrate really hard I can sit on a chair without falling through." She grinned.

Rigsby nodded, before realising that Lisbon and Cho had been talking to each other, and probably to him.

"So you agree then Rigsby?" he heard Lisbon ask.

"Yeah, sure," he answered, trying not to let his confusion slip through.

"Good," his boss tore the sheet of paper she was holding in two, and gave him one half. "Can you ring this store, and see if you can get the information of the person who bought that jacket? Cho and I will take the other two stores. Once you get the suspect, go out there and bring him in. We’re gonna get this bastard.”

Rigsby nodded, glancing down at his paper. He was off to Los Angeles.

“Oh my gosh!” Grace half-squealed from beside him. “I’ve always wanted to go to L.A.!!!”

Rigsby rolled his eyes, sitting down at his desk and picking up the phone sitting on his desk.

One phone call and a credit card tracking later, Rigsby had a name, age and address. Lucas Mills, 34, lives in Los Angeles. He spun in his chair and looked at Cho.

“You got anything?”

“Yeah,” Cho replied. “Name and address. Heading to San Fran to pick him up now.” As Cho was talking to Rigsby, he stood up and collected his jacket from the back of his chair. “You?”

“Yeah, name and address too. I’m off to L.A.”

Cho’s eyebrow actually rose at that statement. Rigsby just shrugged his shoulders and grabbed his jacket too.

As the two walked out from the bullpen, Rigsby poked his head through the door of his boss’ office to inform her of where they were going. He tried hard not to smile when Grace walked through the wall of Lisbon’s office to grin at him from behind her.

“You wanna take Jane?” Lisbon offered. “It’s a long drive.”

Rigsby grinned. “I think it would seem even longer with Jane.”

Lisbon answered him with a knowing grin. “Alright. See you, drive safe.”

Saying goodbye to the brunette, he headed out of the office to meet Cho at the elevator.


Lisbon exited her office and walked across the bullpen to Jane, lying on his couch with his eyes closed. She stood beside the worn brown leather and looked down at his face. How much pain must he be in, she thought to herself. But she also knew how much he would want to be involved in this, going after the possible murderer of his wife and daughter. And Grace’s attacker. So it was obvious, he’d come along with her. There was no way that she was leaving him behind. They were only going to head across town anyway. She’d sent Rigsby to L.A., and the other suspect was in San Francisco, where she’d sent Cho. She’d taken the closest, the store right here in Sacramento, just across town from the CBI. She’d skipped the phone call, always preferring to talk to people face-to-face.

“I can feel you staring Lisbon,” Jane said, surprising her.

“Whatever,” she told him, trying to play it down. “Did you want to come or not?”

“Sure,” he said, standing up beside her. “Where to?”

Rags To Riches, just across town,” she told him, as the two of them headed towards the elevator.

“Oh, they have the best suits,” Jane flashed a megawatt smile at the petite brunette. Lisbon couldn’t help but roll her eyes.


“I’m really hating this ‘no-one-can-see-me’ part of being a ghost,” Grace began. Rigsby was surprised at how she could talk so naturally about something so huge. If that were him, he’d be freaking out.

“But I do like being able to walk through walls. And I get a free trip to L.A.!”

Rigsby looked at her and rolled his eyes. Of course his Grace would try and think of the positives. It was one of the things that had drawn him to her in the first place.

“Right,” he nodded, turning his focus back to the road, a small smile on his face.


By the time Rigsby and Grace got back to the CBI, with suspect in tow, Lisbon and Cho’s suspects had already been thoroughly interrogated. Rigsby led the balding man through the CBI straight to an interrogation room, where he promptly fired question after question at the man. Rigsby became increasingly frustrated as the man answered each question calmly, with a hint of a smug smile on his face. Nothing Rigsby said held any weight, he was quickly finding out.

“Goddammit,” Rigsby tossed the file on his desk in frustration once he was back in the bullpen, leaving the suspect still in interrogation with a man on the door.

Cho looked up from the file he had been studying, and Jane even sat up on his couch at Rigsby’s outburst.

Rigsby threw himself into his chair with gusto, burying his head in his hands. Grace, who had been unusually quiet during the entire interrogation, came up behind him, resting her hand briefly on his shoulder before perching herself on the edge of Rigsby’s desk.

Lisbon emerged from her office at the commotion. “Anything?” she asked her agent, a flicker of hope skittering across her face.

Rigsby, without even looking up, shook his head. “Rock solid alibi. How the hell are we gonna nail this guy, whichever one he is?”

The five of them pondered for a moment. All three had rock-solid alibis, and they could only hold them for twenty-four hours on suspicion.

“Rock-solid alibis,” Lisbon mused aloud.

“No real evidence,” Jane muttered.

“No witnesses,” Cho mumbled.

Grace, who happened to be beside Cho, caught his quiet remark.

“Wayne!” she cried loudly, leaping up from where she sat cross-legged on the floor.

Rigsby jumped slightly, but looked discreetly at Grace in questioning.


Rigsby furrowed his brow at her, trying to convey his confusion without actually speaking. That could look a little weird.

“You can be a witness!” Grace was practically bouncing on her feet now. “You can just say that you saw him sneak around the back!”

Rigsby mouthed a silent “what?” when he made sure nobody was looking.

“Look,” Grace walked towards him, literally walking through the chair in front of her, “I saw the guy. I know what he looks like. Please, Wayne? Not just for me, but for Jane? This is Red John. He wants to catch him more than anything in the world. Please?” she drew out the last word, knowing it would tug on his heartstrings. It had always worked when they were together.

Rigsby bit his lip. “Guys,” he addressed the rest of the group, “I’m gonna go get a drink. Anyone want anything?”

He was answered with a “coffee please,” from Cho and Lisbon, and a horrified look from Jane. “Don’t worry, Jane I wasn’t talking to you. I know you hate my tea.”

Making his way towards the CBI’s little kitchenette, he motioned subtly for Grace to follow.

“So, what do you think?” she asked him, once they were out of earshot of the rest of the team.

“I think it could just be crazy enough to work. Are you sure you’re okay with doing it? Like, with seeing him again?”

“I hope I will be. If not, I know that not only can he not hurt me now, you’ll protect me.” She gave Rigsby a small smile.

Rigsby only smiled in return and nodded.

“Let’s do this.”


Fifteen minutes later, they’d managed to put their three suspects in a line-up, and the team had crowded into the viewing room.

The observation room was silent as the five of them stared through the one-sided glass.

Lisbon leaned forward, pressing her finger to a button on the wall. “Turn to the left please.”

The three men on the other side of the mirror turned their bodies obligingly.

“Rigsby?” Lisbon looked up at the taller agent.

Rigsby bit his lip, pretending to think, waiting to see if Grace had any input.

“I don’t know, Wayne,” she sighed, exasperated. “I just don’t know. It was dark; he was wearing a ski mask. They all look the same to me from here!” Rigsby glanced at her. She looked so out of place amongst them, clothed in only her pyjamas in-between the smartly dressed agents.

Rigsby looked back down at Lisbon and shook his head. The petite agent pressed the button again and instructed the men to turn back to the front.

“Take your time Rigsby,” Jane told him.

Rigsby looked over at the blonde, the consultant’s cerulean eyes churning in a mixture of emotion. He watched as his boss looked over at her consultant.

“What’s your take on them Jane?”

“They’re all guilty, hiding something, but I just can’t discern what,” Jane’s voice grew quiet. “Lisbon…” he trailed off, and Rigsby watched as the two of them had a silent conversation with their eyes. “Lisbon, one of these men is the psychopath that murdered my wife and daughter. I can’t be held responsible for my actions if Rigsby identifies him.”

“Jane,” the brunette placed a gentle hand on his upper arm, “you’ll be okay.”

The tension in the room grew; the only sounds were the breathing of the five agents. Lisbon’s green eyes took on Jane’s blue ones, Cho, Rigsby and Grace silent as the two strong-willed gazes clashed.

“Oh,” Jane was the first to break away, tearing his eyes from Lisbon’s intense emerald stare, “and you’d better tell the guy on the left to take out his contacts.”

To Part two: http://vanrigsby.livejournal.com/8533.html

Always There.
Author: vanrigsby
Artist: justlook3
Link to art: http://justlook3.livejournal.com/161400.html
Word Count:
Rating: T, because I have no idea anyway
Summary: It was a tough case, for some more than others. Grace knew that. [Tag to 5.04]
Disclaimer: It's not mine, you already know that. Not justlook3's either. Unless one of us is Bruno in disguise… No copyright infringement intended.
Notes: Life got in the way of posting this fic on its original day, despite the fact that both justlook3 and I had already finished! I hated seeing Rigsby so upset and alone at the end of this episode. Hence, a fic. Hope you enjoy.


Rigsby clutched Ben tightly to his chest as silent tears slid down his cheeks. He watched absentmindedly as one slipped off his jaw and splashed soundlessly onto his son’s forehead. He lifted one hand and gently wiped it away with the pad of his thumb.  Ben’s eyelids flickered, but he did not wake from his slumber. He glanced at the clock. How long had he sat here, silently crying over a father that wasn’t really a father at all? Someone who had been nothing but a thorn in his side his whole life, someone who just gave the rules and the law the finger. Someone who was completely unworthy of his tears.

But he knew he wasn’t crying over the fact the he was dead. Sure, he was sad that he didn’t have a father anymore, but he was sadder for what could have been. All the times he thought his father could have changed. All the times when he didn’t have a dad, but he needed one. For the times when he was a young boy and he wanted to play ball with his dad in the backyard. For the times when he needed a man to talk to as he was going through the confusing stages of puberty. For the time when he had graduated the police academy, gotten his first promotion, had a son. He was crying for the dad he could have had, the grandfather Ben could have had. The grandfather who could take him to baseball games and the movies and the park. The grandfather who could sweep up the little boy in his arms and lift him high into the air, love shining from his eyes.

He looked down at his sleeping son, making the decision to take him to bed when he saw Ben’s peaceful face. He walked to the young boy’s room with Ben cradled lovingly in his arms. He placed him on the bed and pulled the sheets up to his chin. Subconsciously, Ben rolled over and mumbled something incoherent, his noises muffled by his dummy. Rigsby smiled weakly, one of his wayward tears sliding off his cheek and landing on the pale blue sheets, making a tiny dark circle. He bent down to kiss Ben’s cheek, looking up when he heard a knock at the front door.

He looked through the peephole before he opened it.

“Grace, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Rigsby’s tone held no maliciousness, only genuine surprise.
“I brought Chinese,” Grace smiled softly at him, holding up a paper bag with Ming Dynasty Chinese printed on the side next to a miniature cartoon dragon.
“Come in,” Rigsby stepped aside to let the redhead through. She walked past him, her soft scent of lilac, mixed with a scent that was utterly and uniquely her, floating through the air, and he couldn’t help but smile slightly.

Grace walked into his apartment and headed straight for the kitchen, grabbing a couple of forks before returning to the lounge room where Rigsby was standing. He thanked her as she held out a box to him, and they sat on the couch. The two of them ate their meal in silence, Rigsby not wanting to talk just yet and Grace understanding that.

When they were finished, Grace collected their rubbish and disposed of it in the bin. She looked at him from across the room, and when she spoke her melodic voice filled his ears.
“So Ben’s in bed?”
“Yeah,” Rigsby replied, standing up. “Would you like to see him?”
“Sure,” Grace smiled, the sight of it dazzling him for a moment.
He walked past her and to the doorway of Ben’s room, where he stopped to one side to allow her to peer in. She leant around the doorway, and when she saw the sleeping boy, she let out a breath in awe and simply said, “Wow, he’s incredible.”
Rigsby just nodded in response to her statement.
“Looks a little like you,” she murmured with a small smile.

Rigsby was hit with a wave of remorse. His boy would have to grow up in a split home. His mother hated his father, and his father had never really loved his mother. Rigsby hadn’t wanted a son; he wasn’t ready for it. But now that he had Ben, he wouldn’t give him up for the world. His little man would only have been made all the more better if he’d been Grace’s.


Before long, they were back in the lounge room, both on the same couch but angled towards one another, and Grace was looking at him with those eyes that could say a whole conversation without her having to speak one word. Right now, they were just asking if he was okay. There was compassion and concern glimmering in the shadowed green depths.

“I’m okay,” he told her, trying to sound convincing.
Grace’s eyes narrowed. He could tell that she didn’t believe him.
"Well, maybe I'm not 100% right now," he relented after a moment. He could never really hide anything from her.
"It's okay, Wayne," she soothed, reaching out and resting a hand gently on his forearm. "You just lost your dad. It understandable that you're not doing so well."

Rigsby looked at her. "Did your dad ever tell you that he loved you?" he asked abruptly.
Grace looked taken aback for a fraction of a second, before regaining her composure. "Well, yes. A lot. But Wayne," she amended, when she saw something dark flash across his face, "just because your dad never told you that he loved you doesn't mean that he didn't."
"He's gone." Wayne murmured. "He's really gone. All these years, I kept thinking 'god Dad, you're gonna get yourself killed one of these days', but now he's really, truly gone."

Grace reached up, moving her hand to his shoulder. This case had been tough on everyone. It always was when a member of one of the team's family was involved. It was the same with Tommy and Annie when they had come in. Lisbon had been stressed beyond belief. Granted, they hadn't had the kind of involvement in the case that Rigsby's father had, but she could only imagine the stress Rigsby had been under, and now the pain he would be in.

It had been a tough case on all of them, she knew that. But it had been the worst for Rigsby. And it was tearing her apart, seeing the big man so vulnerable and hurt in front of her.
"Everyone was scared of him. Everyone hated him. He was a bastard," Rigsby said harshly, tears welling in his eyes, "but he was my father." His voice had softened, and broke slightly on the last word, and Grace shuffled closer to him and moved her arm so it lay across the back of his shoulders.
"It's okay to miss him," she said, rubbing his opposite shoulder softly. "No matter how much of a bad guy he was, you still loved him, as you should, because he was your father. Nothing could have changed that."

Rigsby sniffed. He would not cry. No matter how hard this was to get through, no matter how much he wanted to, those tears could well up all they like, but he was determined not to let them slip over the edge. Not in front of Grace. He could cry in private, when there was nobody around, or when Ben was there. Ben wouldn't remember, or barely even notice. But not in front of Grace.

Grace could see that he was struggling not to cry. She rested her head on his shoulder.
"Do you want to talk about it, Wayne?" she asked.
She could feel him shake his head. "No. Not really."
"Okay," she nodded. “Do you want to be alone?”
His head shook again. “Nope.” She felt his arm come up around her back, holding her to him in kind of a one-armed hug.

After a few minutes of silence, Grace lifted her head from his shoulder.
"Look at me Wayne," she grabbed both of his shoulders with her hands and turned him towards her.
"You are not your father," she said to his watery blue eyes, and watched as a stray tear escaped the confines of his lids and slipped down his cheek. "You are a great man. Despite being a bad man, your father did love you, in his own way, really. You didn't need him."
Rigsby nodded mutely, more tears streaming down his face in a slow steady river.  He lowered his head and she pulled him closer. His head rested on her shoulder, and his arms went around her in a hug.
"Thank you," his words came out muffled against her shoulder. "For being here for me. No one else came."
He'd called Sarah, and managed to hold it together enough to leave her a message stating that he lost his father. He'd thought she would come. But, alas, she didn't.
"Always," Grace said, rubbing her hand over his back slowly and comfortingly as his body began to shake slightly with his silent sobs.

She was there. Always there.

Blood And Sand

A long overdue meme.

Posted on 2012.11.22 at 21:16
Current Mood: ecstaticecstatic
Current Music: What You've Done To Me - Samantha Jade

Well, I stole this meme a long time ago, and it's just been sitting on my computer, waiting for me to choose the ten pairings to fill it and to be bothered to post it.

So, without the thousand-word rambling I could post here, I'll get right on with the meme :)

I've got a list of 10 of my favorite pairings. All you need to do is give me a number (1-10) and something for them to do, like washing dishes or fighting crime, and I'll write a snippet/ficlet.
[stolen from tromana].

I'm excited to do this meme, so if you are um-ing and ah-ing as to whether to reply, I suggest you do :D

If I get bored enough, I might even say you can request seconds!

As a side note, I'm also toying with the idea of something along the lines of what miss_peg is doing with her December drabbles or what tromana and h_loquacious are doing with their Christmas fics. But I dunno. I'm really terrible at making decisions....

Purple With G

The One That Got Away?

Posted on 2012.07.13 at 09:13
Current Mood: contentcontent
Current Music: Crazy - Ricki-Lee
Tags: ,
The One That Got Away?
Author: vanrigsby
Artist: miss_peg
Link to art: Coming soon!
Word Count: 6,236
Rating: PG / K+
Summary: Grace let him go, Sarah picked him up. Who would have him in the end?
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, all rights belong to the incredible Bruno Heller and CBS. The art belongs to the wonderful miss_peg
Notes: Written for The Mentalist Reverse Big Bang 2012. Big thanks go to miss_peg for designing the art that inspired this fic. Thank you!!! This is set sometime between 4x20 and 4x24. Spoilers would be for 4x12, 4x15 and 4x20 I guess...

Extra notes: This is my very first big bang of any description, reverse or otherwise, so I hope I did an alright job. I managed to double the word count that I thought was unimaginable, so I'm happy. I think I did a pretty good job of this, but I'd love to hear your thoughts :) Un-beta'd, so all mistakes are mine :)

The One That Got Away?

Grace sat at her desk, staring blankly at her computer screen, as Rigsby told yet another one of his tales about his son. He always had some sort of story up his sleeve, Benjamin did this; Benjamin did that. He was a cute boy, Grace would admit, but it hurt her when she thought about how much Rigsby’s eyes shone when he spoke about his son, the ‘best thing to ever happen to him’, his ‘whole world’, the reason why he knew he had to keep living now. Her hands gripped the desk subconsciously as she recalled the night Rigsby had told her that she was the best thing to ever happen to him.


She was curled up in bed, Wayne’s large frame surrounding hers, his warmth enveloping her. His arms were wound tightly around her waist; even in his sleep he was protecting her. His head was nuzzled at the nape of her neck, her long red hair sprawled out behind her. She sighed and leant back against her lover. A slight pressure on the top of her head made her turn around and look up at him. Wayne was smiling down at her, his lips still lingering in her hair, love shining from his eyes. She met his lips in a kiss and turned her body around so she was facing him.
“Grace,” his voice was soft in the blackened room, “I love you.”

“I love you too Wayne,” she replied, smiling, even if she knew he couldn’t see it.

He pulled her close and held her tight against his big, strong chest. She instinctively snuggled closer, her arms snaking around his waist.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Really?” she looked up at him. He didn’t need to answer, she could tell from the look on his face, the way his big blue eyes were looking deep into hers.

“Yes really,” he whispered as he leant down to kiss her.

She knew then that she had never had a moment more perfect than this in her whole life.


She’d always wanted to be the one to give Rigsby his first child, a son no less. Many a time she’d envisioned little Rigsby’s running around, with his hair and his eyes, little boys and little girls looking just like their father. But, alas, that was no longer a possibility for her. Sarah had already started a family with Rigsby; there was really no way she could get in there now. She’d had her chance, and she’d blown it. He was willing to choose her over the job, but she’d chosen the job over him. She realized now what a stupid mistake that was.

She didn’t even know whether she could have kids ever again now. Not that it was physically impossible, but that she didn’t really want men any more. She’d had to let go of her true love, and broken both of their hearts in the process, and her second best had turned out to be a mole for a serial killer who had never really loved her, and had also pulled a gun on her and shot her best friend. So, yeah, she was a little wary. Plus, her heart didn’t think it could ever love again. Not after Rigsby. She would have to admit, she hadn’t fallen in love with him at first, but once she had fallen, it had been hard and fast.

Her reverie was shattered when someone walked into the bullpen. The little group that had gathered around Rigsby looked towards the doorway. Once Rigsby saw who it was, his face lit up like a Christmas tree and he stood up quickly.

“Sarah! Ben!” he called, and made his way towards them. Grace watched as he took little Benjamin from Sarah’s arms, and held him close to his chest. He made his way back to the group around his desk, and showed Benjamin to all of them. It was the first time they had seen Benjamin aside from photos, and a chorus of ‘ooh’s and ‘aw’s floated through the air to Grace’s ears. She couldn’t see him very well, so went back to working on her report for a while.

She looked up when she saw something large moving towards her out of the corner of her eye. Rigsby stopped when he reached the edge of her desk, little Benjamin in his arms. He looked so tiny next to his father, and Rigsby was holding him so gently, like he was made of glass and the slightest movement could shatter him into a million pieces.

“Do you want to hold him?” Rigsby’s blue eyes met her brown ones, and she nodded.

Rigsby’s long, strong arms reached the child through the air to Grace, and she took him carefully, aware that she was now holding Rigsby’s whole world in her arms. She looked down at Benjamin. His big blue eyes, so much like his father’s, drank her in, looked up at her with wonder and awe. Benjamin was so different from what he looked like in the photos Grace had seen. His eyes were bluer, his face chubbier, his smile more mesmerizing. She beamed down at the little bundle that had begun to giggle in her arms, and reached her hand to touch the side of his face. His tiny hand wrapped around her finger, and her smile widened. She took in all of Benjamin as he observed her. She started to notice not only the things that made him like his father, but his mother as well. His eyes were blue, and he had Rigsby’s smile, but his hair definitely came from Sarah, and his facial features were more akin to hers than his. Grace had a fleeting thought as to what their child would look like. Maybe red hair, like her, but Rigsby’s piercing blue eyes and trademark smile. The clearing of a throat somewhere in the bullpen brought her back to reality, and she grudgingly returned the child in her arms to his father.


Grace scribbled frantically with the now useless pen. She just had to sign this one thing, then she could be done for the day. Rigsby and Cho had already left, she was itching to get out the door as well. She was starving, and every so often her stomach would let out a rumble, letting her know it was about time for dinner.

"Grace, watch out, you'll rip a hole in the paper," Jane's voice was filled with laughter.

She ignored the annoying consultant on the couch beside her and shoved open her desk drawer. Rifling roughly through, she couldn't seem to find even one pen. The one in her hand was obviously her last one. She made a mental note to stop by the shops on the way home to buy a couple more pens. Sighing in frustration, she spun her chair around.

"Jane, could I borrow a pen?"

The blonde in question sat up and looked at her.

"I don't think I have one, Grace. Hey, you have to go on a treasure hunt! I could help if you wanted! We could be like pirates! Arrr!"

Grace shook her head at his childishness and stood up. She tossed the pen in the bin on her way to Rigsby's desk, the one place she knew spare pens always were kept.

She tugged open the top drawer, which stuck a little bit, and peered inside. There didn't seem to be anything in this one. A spare gun and handcuffs, a notebook, a packet of chips, a doughnut and a little bag of carrot sticks. Grace smiled slightly. At least she rubbed off on him enough to keep him eating healthy.

She closed the drawer and opened the one underneath, which slid out towards her at a horrific speed. She was surprised it didn’t fall out onto the floor. Typical, the first drawer sticks, the next one has no grip whatsoever. The first thing that caught her eye was a small velvet box tucked into the back corner of the drawer. Her heart began to beat faster. She knew she shouldn't be there in the first place, and she obviously wasn't meant to find the box. By the size and shape, she could already guess what was inside.

She silently reached into the drawer, and with gentle hands, lifted the box out. Her slender fingers opened the lid slowly, and she gasped at what was inside. A beautiful silver ring, settled on a bed of black velvet. It had a single square diamond set at the center of the ring, simple yet elegant. Her heart stopped as the cogs began to turn in her mind.

He was going to propose to Sarah. He was going to ask Sarah to be his wife, the only one he wanted to wake up with every day for the rest of his life, the one he wanted to have a family with. Her heart seemed to fall to the ground and shatter to a million pieces at her feet. With tears in her eyes, she placed the box where it came from and, as gently as possibly, shut the drawer. Realising that she had forgotten a pen, she quickly opened the drawer again, careful not to look at the dreaded box, and she snatched the first pen she saw. Making her way over to her desk, she couldn't help but notice Jane was watching her. And, to make matters worse, he was watching her with his 'analyzing' face on.

"What do you want Jane?" she asked, with probably a lot more force than was needed.

"You found the ring," it was more a statement of a fact than a question.

"What ring?" she lied smoothly. Well, at least smoothly for her. Not smooth enough for Jane though.

"You know the ring. Rigsby's ring for Sarah."

Something on her face must have given her away, but she still tried to cover it with a: "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh Grace," Jane said, in a tone that sounded slightly patronising, "you really are a horrible liar. But don't worry, good, honest people are always bad liars."

Grace rolled her eyes at him and shook her head. "Whatever you say Jane."

She scrawled her signature on the little line where it was required, then folded the paper up. She shuffled some papers into something resembling a pile on her desk, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Standing up, she scooped up her handbag and plucked her caramel coloured jacket from the back of her chair.

"Night Jane," Grace tossed over her shoulder as she began to walk away.

"Wait, Grace."

She turned around, and found Jane looking at her with a strange expression on his face. It was almost like... like he cared. "Yes?"

"You should talk to him. About the ring."

Grace lowered her head, staring at the floor.

Wordlessly admitting defeat, she answered, "I could never."

"You have to," was all Jane said before lying back down on his worn old couch and closing his eyes, effectively ending the conversation.

She dropped the pen onto Rigsby's desk as she walked past, not game enough to open the drawer again. She made her way out of the bullpen and toward Lisbon's office. After giving her boss the piece of paper and saying goodnight, she could finally leave.

She made her way out to her Jeep, the cool night air making her skin break out in goose bumps. She pulled her jacket on, reveling in the sudden warmth. She walked with her head down, and the light pricks of water on the back of her neck let her know it was going to be a rainy night. As she reached her destination, she unlocked the car and slipped inside.


The next morning, when Rigsby came into work, Grace was already there. She glanced up at his arrival, but kept working doggedly on finding information for the case. She discovered it was a lot harder to not talk about the issue that was pressing its way towards the very forefront of her mind than she though it would be. She knew that she had to talk to him, or she would literally explode. After wrestling with the thought of talking to him for what felt like forever, she made up her mind.


"Wayne? Can I talk to you a minute?" Grace's melodic voice floated across the bullpen to his ears. He looked up from his computer, she was already making her way towards him.

"Sure," he replied and stood up.

Rigsby followed Grace as they headed towards Interview Room 2. She opened the door, then held it for him as he walked through.

He stood, unsure of what to do. "Have a seat," Grace told him, then dragged the chair on the opposite side of the table nearer to him. She sat, facing him, and took a deep breath. What on earth could she want to talk to him about?


She was struggling to find the words. How could she talk to him about this? How would she start? She decided she'd just begin with what started all of this, the troublesome pen. Then she'd figure out where to go from there.

"Well, I was signing that form yesterday, you know, for the Josephson case, when my pen ran out of ink. You and Cho had already gone home. I went to get a pen from your desk, I hope you don't mind, when the drawer kind of slid out all the way, not just a little bit like I wanted it to," she paused, unsure whether to continue or whether to let Rigsby figure it out himself.

She didn't have to decide, however, as the penny finally dropped.

"You saw the ring,” he said so softly it could have been a whisper. Grace would have missed it, had she not been waiting with bated breath to hear if he would respond.

"I'm sorry Wayne, I didn't mean to, honest. I saw it by accident, then I wondered what was in the box. I'm sorry."

"No," he replied, "it wasn't your fault. I should have taken it home."

After a little while of silence, Grace finally plucked up the courage to say what was on her mind. Taking a deep breath, she quickly managed to get out, "you told me you weren't gonna marry her."

She knew her voice told of how hurt she was, but she really couldn't be bothered to hide it at the moment. She had finally said what had been on her mind for days now. He'd told her he wasn't going to marry Sarah. He'd said so himself. She had been, and she was sad to admit, relieved he wasn't going to propose. She'd been, to be quite honest, crushed when she'd found out Sarah was pregnant. And he’d looked upset as well when he was telling her. Like he wished it wasn't so. She'd felt a strange kind of happiness at the look in his eyes. The look that said he wished Grace was the one carrying his child.

"I'm sorry Grace," the use of her first name made her heart swell a little, "I just felt like it wasn't right that we were going to have a child together and we weren't married. Gosh, we hadn't even talked about it. But my momma brought me up better than to not ask. So I had to. And I did. I'm sorry. I know I told you I wouldn't."

Grace couldn't say anything, she simply swallowed hard and looked down at her hands fidgeting in her lap.

"You shouldn't be sorry for proposing to someone, Wayne."

This time, it was he who didn't respond. And for quite some time, too.

"She said no," Rigsby's statement was like a bucket of cold water over her. Her head snapped up from her lap, and she was sure her jaw hit the floor.

"She what?" was all she could manage to get out.

"I asked her to marry me, she said no."

"Oh, Wayne, I'm sorry," her brain managed to put at least one coherent thought into words. She was feeling so many things at the moment, she was sure Rigsby could hear the thoughts whirring around in her brain.

She was happy at the fact Sarah had said no, but sad for Rigsby as yet another girlfriend had rejected him.  The look in his eyes made her want to jump up and hug him tighter than she ever had before. She was furious at Sarah, she was the one who had caused so much hurt to flow into the beautiful blue eyes of the tall man opposite her.

After about a minute or so stewing in her feelings and attempting to make sense of her muddled thoughts, she noticed Rigsby made a move to stand up. Grace, naturally, mirrored his movements. They stood fully, and she looked up at him. She had always loved the fact he was so much bigger than her. His size made her feel safe, as not very many men could. She was tall, for a woman, so she struggled to find someone who she could rest against comfortably. But she had always done that with Rigsby. She’d cuddle against him; he’d rest his chin on the top of her head. She'd loved being just the right height for him, and him for her. If she was being honest with herself, she missed it.

Coming back to the present, she noticed there were tears in the corner of Rigsby's eyes, just barely spilling over. With the next blink, she was sure they'd be rolling down his cheeks. She boldly reached up and brushed them away, then wrapped her arms around him in a huge hug. His arms automatically went around her, and she was reminded of the time he'd hugged her after she'd gotten back from being lost in the wilderness.


The look on his face screamed 'I'm so glad you're alive'. But first, he'd graciously asked how she was. Then, when he looked like he was going to burst out into tears, he'd muttered a 'come here' and pulled her in for a hug. He'd clung to her like she was the last life ring on the Titanic. She'd held him the same way. She felt his body tense with unreleased sobs, one arms around her neck, one around her waist. He’d held her so gently, yet so firmly. He'd missed her, he'd been scared for her. She reveled in this fact as she stayed wrapped in his arms. Then Sarah had come in. Being all civil and 'I heard you got back okay'. Well, no, I died out there, she wanted to say. But she didn't. Because she knew what the tiny brunette meant to the man beside her. So she'd kept her mouth shut. And wished she was Sarah.


She couldn't say how long they stayed like that, a minute, maybe more, before she decided it would be best to get out of there, the others might be starting to wonder where they'd gone. She slowly released her hold on Rigsby, and he held onto her for a fraction more before letting go.

"I'm sorry," she said one last time, with an apologetic smile, then made her way out the door.


After making herself a nice hot cup of coffee, she decided it was probably time to get back to the investigating she was doing on one of the cold cases Lisbon had set for her. The SCU hadn't acquired a new case in weeks, so the boss had given them all a cold case to look over. She slowly wandered back to her desk, figuring there was no immediate rush. This particular case was already eighteen months old, she thought it could wait a couple more minutes. She stopped when she heard raised voices from the bullpen, just out of her line of sight. Jane, however, was directly in her line of sight, and he looked absolutely fascinated by the scene that was unfolding in front of him.

His head turned towards her as she made a slow and silent journey from the doorway of the kitchenette towards her desk, or at least a place where she could see who was fighting and what it was about. Jane raised finger to his lips in the universal 'be quiet' gesture, then motioned with his finger for her to come closer. She kept going, attempting to be as quiet as possible.

What she saw first shocked her. The first thing her eyes picked up would be the most obvious, the large, black haired, blue eyed man standing in the middle of the bullpen. Despite his size, he was looking thoroughly chastised, as if the person yelling at him were two feet taller. When, in an actual fact, the person yelling at him was at least a foot shorter. Her brown hair flew everywhere as she shook her head in anger, the small child that was, Grace assumed, once in her arms, passed off to the nearest human being, which just so happened to be an extremely deadpan Asian agent.

Grace took a millisecond to savour the image of Cho holding a baby, before turning her attention back to the clear chaos in front of her.


“You still love her!” Sarah shouted, tears slowly making their way down her face.

“I don-”

“Don’t deny it again! I hate hearing words I know you don’t mean!”

Rigsby noticed Jane watching the exchange from the corner of his eye. He was clearly enjoying this. He hadn’t meant to have his girlfriend start screaming at him in the middle of his workplace, as hard to believe as that was.


He'd waited a moment after Grace had left the interview room, just processing. Then he'd made one foot hit the floor in front of the other, on his way out of the room. He'd opened the door, and, to his absolute shock, he'd found Sarah standing in front of him. She'd had fire practically blazing from her eyes. Ben, in her arms, was quiet, probably sensing the force of the argument about to come.

"Every other time I've overlooked this, but I can't deny it any more. You still love her, don't you?"

Rigsby blinked once, twice, and wasn't sure whether or not to answer her semi-rhetorical question.

"You do!"

"No, Sarah, I love you," Rigsby tried to deny, not sure whether he believed what he was actually saying. He stepped out into the hallway, and began to make his way down towards his desk. Maybe if he was around other people there wouldn't be such a scene caused.

"You don't really, do you? You only proposed to me because I was pregnant. I don't even know now if you love me or not, I don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering the same thing."

"I proposed to you because I love you Sarah," Rigsby said, turning around in the middle of the bullpen. "I don't love Grace, how could I when I have you?"


And now he couldn’t even move; the stare from the small brunette pinning him to the floor where he stood.

“I see the way you look at her, the way your practically melt when you talk about her. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is,” she screamed, her arms flailing wildly.

A cool, calm voice from the doorway of the bullpen made both of their heads snap around.

“Then you obviously don’t know what love is.”

Rigsby could only stare in shock as Grace stood, feet planted, eyes cold and hard, glaring at Sarah.

“He doesn’t love me.”

“Really? And how would you know?”

Sarah’s body stiffened as she spat back at Grace. Rigsby looked at Grace. Did he love her? Sure, he still cared about her, he got jealous and he wished he could go back in time and shoot O’Laughlin before she had to, but that didn’t mean he loved her, did it? But, now that he was thinking about it, did he even love Sarah? Sure, he had proposed to her and all, but he felt a sense of responsibility. Sure, he loved Benjamin with his whole heart, but did he love Sarah the same?


Grace’s heart was beating a million miles per hour as Sarah’s eyes bore deep into hers.

“Because he loves you. And he loves Ben. You don’t see the way he goes on about you two. You are his life, his reason for living.”

“And yet, he still chooses you. And you choose him.”

“But he hasn’t chosen me! I’m the one without a boyfriend, without a baby. We can’t still love each other, or else we wouldn’t be in this position right now. You’re everything he wants, how could he not love you?”

“I don’t know,” Sarah’s voice dropped to a whisper as she started to walk slowly towards the redhead in the doorway. Grace took an involuntary step back. “But he doesn’t. He loves YOU!” She shouted this last word, and, with tears in her eyes and her face in an angry frown, she pushed Grace roughly against the door of the bullpen and hurried past. She didn’t even take Ben from the ever stoic Cho.


Grace shook herself awake as a knocking sound came from her front door. Maybe a quick nap hadn’t been a great idea. Her brain was reeling as she tried to even process what day it was. Her dog, Emmy, barked once and pawed at the door. There was only one person that bark was reserved for. Normally Emmy would go crazy at the sound of knocking, absolutely beside herself at the fact someone was on the other side of the door. Grace got up, straightened her pajama shirt and started towards the door.  Emmy stood in front of the door and looked up at her. Grace looked into her big brown eyes, and said, “yeah, I know it’s him.”

She opened the dark wooden door, and faced Rigsby. His blue shirt matched his eyes that glittered in the semi-darkness, his hair practically blended in with the nighttime. She didn’t notice the young child in his arms until he let out a strangled cry.

“Um, Grace, could I come in?” Rigsby stammered, looking at the ground.

“Yeah, sure,” Grace stepped aside to let him in.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he began, laying a bag that she assumed had Ben’s stuff in it on the couch, “but I haven’t even seen Sarah since she left the CBI, and I can’t reach her, and Ben won’t stop crying and I just…” His voice trailed off, defeated.

“It’s okay,” Grace said with a smile, reaching her arms out for the almost wailing bundle in his arms. He seemed grateful to release his hold on Ben, and she pulled the little guy close to her chest, rocking him slowly back and forth.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” she asked. Rigsby looked at her, confusion and a little bit of hurt in his eyes.

"No, not really, but thank you anyways."

A beat of silence passed between them before Grace spoke, Ben quieting down in her arms.

"Do you want something? A coffee, water, something to eat?" she asked.

"Um, coffee would be great, thanks," Rigsby answered her, knowing better than to specify what kind. She would have remembered from their time together exactly how he liked it.

He watched as she pottered around her small kitchen, organising the makings of a cup of coffee, Ben cradled in one arm, like it was the most natural thing in the world. When the kettle boiled, she reached over and picked the kettle up in one hand, then poured water into the two mugs sitting on the counter. Ben started to cry again from his position in her left arm, and Rigsby couldn't suppress a smile when she leant down and kissed the top of his head, muttering things Rigsby could not hear. She looked so heartbreakingly natural with his son, he even kind of wished Ben were hers.

She made her way over to the couch with one cup of coffee, then placed it on the coffee table in front of Rigsby, going back to the kitchen for her cup. When she came back, she sat down, not quite beside Rigsby but not too far away, Ben still cuddled in her arms, his eyes slowly closing.

“You’re not gonna like this, but can we talk?” he said softly, moving slightly to face her on her navy couch, the large divot in the fabric that his weight made shifting slightly.

“Um, of course Wayne,” she replied.

“We need to talk about us.”

Grace sighed softly, knowing he was right.

“Were you telling the truth when you told Sarah you were sure we didn’t love each other any more?”

“I don’t know Wayne. Was I?” Her head was tilted down, one of her hands absently stroking the small child in her lap. A beat of silence fell before Rigsby spoke.

“Well, I need you to know that I still love you.”

Grace’s heart stopped. Was he being serious? She lifted her head and looked at him. Yes, he was.

“B-b-but you have Sarah. And Ben!”

“Yes, I love Ben, he is one of the best things to ever happen to me. You are the other.”

“But Sarah, she gave you Ben,” she was grasping at straws now, scared to even admit to herself her lingering feelings for the man sitting beside her.

“You know, I still loved you, even when I was with her. It’s wrong, I know, but I did and I do. You will always be first in my heart Grace. You hold my heart.”

The passion and emotion behind his words almost brought her to tears. But she stayed silent. They were both frozen, each wrapped up in the tangled web that was their own thoughts.

The silence fell over them both like a heavy blanket. What was between them now was so fragile, neither of them really wanted to shatter it by saying the wrong thing. Grace had kind of always known Rigsby had always loved her, but she didn't know he had ever stopped. Which, of course, he hadn't. He still loved her, even with a son to another woman. But the question she had to ask herself was if she still loved him. She'd fallen for him in the beginning, his chivalry, his charm, his mesmerizing blue eyes and dazzling white smile. His ability to be even cuter when he was putting his foot in it.

But she'd known that she couldn't let him leave his job. He couldn't ruin his career for her. And if they broke up down the line, he'd surely be mad at her for making him leave the CBI. So she'd done what she thought needed to be done. She'd broken it off. She knew she'd broken his heart that night. She knew she was his everything, she was the reason behind that god-forsaken smile of his. But what he didn't know was that she'd broken her own heart as well.

Many a time she'd daydreamed about a life with Rigsby. Waking up with him, having dinner with him every night. She'd dreamed about the short term and the long term situations. Marriage, kids, a house. A life with the man she knew she'd loved with her whole heart from the moment he'd kissed her in the middle of the bullpen. But someone had gotten to him first. She'd left him, Sarah had taken him. And now Sarah had Rigsby and his son. Rigsby had even proposed to her for Pete’s sake.

The shrill ring of a mobile phone interrupted her thoughts, and the vibration of her pocket automatically brought her hand to her hip. She shifted Ben to one arm as his tiny eyes started to open and he started to whimper. Rigsby reached out for his son, and she passed him over whilst she brought the phone to her ear.

“Grace Van Pelt,” she said, in the most officious tone she could manage.

Lisbon’s voice in her ear told her that the team had a new case, a murder just outside of town.

She thanked her boss, hung up, and turned to Rigsby.

“New case,” she stated simply, and he nodded, knowing his phone too would ring within a matter of minutes.


Three months later

Grace walked through the door, and a grin bloomed across her face at the sight she found there. Her boyfriend had fallen asleep in his favourite lounge chair, the old grey one with the worn out armrests, with his son on his lap. The baby was asleep as well, his tiny, soft snores mirroring his father's. She made her way over to the seat and gave Rigsby a kiss on the forehead. His eyes fluttered open, and he smiled at her.

"Hey love. How was your day?"

"Okay," she replied, as she made her way towards the kitchen to start preparing dinner. "How about you?"

"Alright. I'm feeling better."

"That's good to hear," Grace stuck her head out into the lounge room to shoot him a smile.


Rigsby returned his girlfriend's smile with one of his own. He listened carefully as she ambled around the kitchen, gathering various food items. He couldn't help but think how different his life had been a year ago today. His girlfriend at the time had announced she was pregnant, the two simple words changing his life forever. He opened the drawer of the side table next to him, in search of Ben's dummy for when he woke up. His eyes caught on a slim piece of paper at the back of the drawer. Another thing in the past year that changed his life.


About a week after Sarah had stormed out of the bullpen, Rigsby had gone out to check his mail to find a small envelope sitting on his doorstep. He known who it was from as soon as he saw the writing on the front saying, simply: Wayne.

He'd continued his journey to the mailbox, but once he'd gotten back inside, the small letter had been the first thing he'd opened.


This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do, and I hope you’ll understand.

I'll always be grateful to you for giving me Ben, but this is not the sort of relationship I want. This is the sort of relationship I was scared we would fall into. When I refused your proposal, it really was because I didn't want to wake up every morning, wondering if the man beside me really loved me. Which, really, you don't. You still love Grace. I can see it in your eyes, the way you act, everything about you.

I need to have some time to work out where I go from here. I am not saying I'm leaving forever, just until I find myself.

Please look after Ben. Keep him safe, raise him right. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I know he's in safe hands with you. You are his father, after all. Thank you for him.

I love you,


He’d dropped the letter, shocked. This couldn’t be happening. He wasn’t ready to become a single father. So, he picked up the phone and called the first person he knew would help.


And now he had an amazing girlfriend who was helping him raise a baby that wasn’t even hers. She’d come when he needed her, and she’d stayed to help. Their relationship had been made easier with the promotion of Wainwright, which took him out of the Special Agent In Charge position. Lisbon had eagerly filled the void left by the young agent, and Cho had stepped up to take her place heading the SCU. Rigsby’s best friend conveniently turned a blind eye to the infraction of the CBI rules (or, as Jane had previously described it: the ‘illicit affair’), so long as it didn’t affect their work or anything  to do with it. Lisbon had done the same thing, but both Rigsby and Grace understood that the slightest slip-up would send one of them out of the unit, or break both of their hearts by separating them again.


A further three months later

Grace smiled as Ben made cute cooing sounds while he played with his toys on the floor in front of her. Emmy, who was curled up at the bottom of her chair, made a snuffling noise as Grace returned to reading her book. Rigsby had offered to do the laundry for her today, so she was allowed to put her feet up, minding she kept an eye on Ben of course. She was about to get up and make herself a cup of coffee when there was a knock at the door. Grace got up, placed the book on the side table and made her way towards the door. Swinging it open, she found herself only able to gasp at the sight of what was on the other side of the door.


Blood And Sand

Well, I just watched 4.23...

Posted on 2012.06.26 at 08:57
Current Music: Dancing Crazy - Miranda Cosgrove
Tags: , ,
And I think I might have to say, that, as much as I don't really like it, I'm kinda sorta maybe starting to become a little bit of a Jisbon shipper.

How I came to think this....Collapse )

Purple Top

Am I the only one?

Posted on 2012.06.21 at 19:39
Current Mood: crazycrazy
Current Music: World Of Chances - Demi Lovato
Tags: ,
Just a quick little post about something I thought of:

Am I the only one who thinks someone should write a fanfiction about the SCU as kids? Like, not teenagers as so many people have written before, but kids. Like little kids, maybe 5 or so years old. Am I the only one who thinks that would be cute?

I would personally love to write said fanfiction, but I've kinda got my hands full, what with my Reverse Big Bang, my other multi-chapter and a third one (probably multi-chapter as well). But hey, if anyone wants to adopt this little plot bunny (I think that's what it's called...) you go right ahead. Just make sure to let me know, so I can be sure to read the finished product!

Also, if you know someone else who would love to write this story, feel free to tell them about it!

Previous 10