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.
xxx
Part 1: http://vanrigsby.livejournal.com/8355.html
PART TWO
“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.
X
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.
X
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!”
X
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?”
X
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.”
X
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.
“Yes?”
“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.
X
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.
X
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.
X
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!