Just Like Heaven
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!
xxx
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.
X
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.
X
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.
X
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.”
X
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.
X
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.
X
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.
“Ready?”
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.”
X
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.
X
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.
X
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.
X
“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.
X
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.
“Witnesses!”
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.”
X
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