Wayne Rigsby was having the worst week of his life. Grace could barley look at him after the remnants of the unexpected events of last week. She had to understand that he had no idea what he was doing; I mean he was hypnotized for goodness sake. It was like the worst kind of deja vu, the kind where you know you've been there before...every time you happen to glance at your partners lips. He didn't mean for it to happen, or at least not like that. He wanted her, loved her for some unknown reason, but he would have liked for them both to be conscious when it finally happened. In all honesty aside from her being completely gorgeous in every aspect, personality included, he had no idea why he loved her. They really didn't have that much in common, aside from working together and liking cheeseburgers. But whatever the reason, when he looked at her, it just felt right.
He appeared to admit a lot of things while not being quite himself. He seemed to remember the night after he got blown to hell in that house explosion. There she was, just sitting waiting patiently for him to need her. She was just trying to do something nice while obeying the boss, and he had to go and let his true feelings slip out. "I love you." He said. He had never said that to anyone, because he wasn't one to throw those words around. He hadn't said that to women he had dated for years, let alone someone who he barely knew. Although he knew that at the time he was heavily medicated, he felt awful for putting her in that position. He didn't think she would ever talk to him again, but she did seem to take more of a notice to him after that. She would make up excuses to walk passed him enough times a day for him to have ZZ Top stuck in his head for weeks on end.
He assumed that this would be the same. Maybe she'd just forget it if he went on make believing he didn't remember kissing her. But she was like his own personal drug, and once he tried her, he didn't want to go back to being just the guy she occasionally went on stakeouts with. That was the next problem. It was easy enough to ignore each other in the station, but if they were stuck in a car...alone...at night, he didn't know what might arise.
It was hard enough to deal with the quick but frequent glances she gave him while sipping at her morning coffee and pretending to read the paper. He didn't need to have Patrick Jane rub it into his face every time he walked past.
"So did you talk to Van Pelt yet?" Jane smiled. Rigsby shook his head.
"Coward." Said Jane abruptly. "I don't know why you just can't man up. I mean you did take down a 100 pound crazy woman with a handgun. If anyone should be avoiding you, it should be me, you didn't try to throw Grace off the roof."
"Look I'll talk to her when she's ready. She still seems pretty mad at me and I don't want to make it worse between us. Oh God, why? Why did you pick that of all things to make me do?" Rigsby said letting out a sigh and burring his face in his hands.
"I didn't make you do anything you wouldn't normally do, and how was I supposed to know that was what you were going to pick? In all honesty I was just relieved that kissing her was all you were wanting to do at the time, I was just glad didn't become x rated." Jane chuckled.
Wayne Rigsby went entirely red from his ears down to his hands.
"I just feel so stupid, like I just threw myself at her. I didn't even give her a choice in the matter." He said avoiding Jane's eyes.
"Listen after what you did for her last week, I think we all knew it was coming. I know you're completely oblivious to anything but her legs most of the time, but you need to start paying attention to the way she looks at you. Everyone else can tell that she is starting to feel the same way. She gets jealous when she sees you with other women, staring them down and sizing them up. But when there isn't competition and she thinks you aren't paying attention, she looks up at you and back down and smiles perfectly content. My guess is that she has been hurt in the past. You make her feel safe and taken care of, even if your methods are somewhat abrasive. I think that it hurts her knowing that she'll never get to have that first kiss with you again, and you're acting like you don't even remember it." Jane shook his head. "That makes you a coward."
Rigsby let out another exasperated sigh.
"You need to go talk to her." Jane said before patting him on the back and leaving the room.
Rigsby paced the floor for a good ten minutes or so while trying to work up the courage to confront her. He didn't know how he could run into burning buildings and face serial killers on a daily biases and yet be so scared of Grace Van Pelt. He didn't even know how he wanted to start the conversation. "I'm sorry I kissed you." sounds pretty bad because he wasn't sorry. In fact he now wished he could do it again every day for as long as he lived He thought coffee might help his head quit spinning, or calm his nerves, either one.
Heading towards the break room, he noticed her going through a box of papers in an empty office. She was sitting on the sand colored carpet with her back against the front of the desk. She looked even taller than normal sitting on her right foot with her left leg sprawled out in front of her. She was reading a case file while taking notes in a notebook on the floor. He hid behind the door frame, watching her try to readjust. He knew that the piece of hair falling out of her clip and down in her face was bothering her. She must have brushed it out her eyes six times before finally taking the whole clip out. She stuck the end of the clip in her mouth while she tried desperately to pull the top back into something that looked decent. He would have given anything in the world to be that hair clip. She had just put the gold clip back in and started working when a piece of auburn colored hair fell directly in front of her left eye. She cursed under her breath and rubbed her right temple. It was then that Wayne Rigsby made the fatal mistake of quietly laughing. Grace's head immediately snapped up.
"Hey." She said quietly, never getting up.
"What are you doing?" Rigsby asked.
"Getting the paperwork done for tomorrow. It's just an armed robbery, nothing big." She replied sincerely.
"Do you want any help?" He said, anything to test how mad she was at him.
"No, I'm almost done. But thank you. Did you need something?" She asked inquisitively. "You can come in. You really don't need to lurk in doorways." She said a smile tugging on her lips.
He stared at her, pleasantly surprised at her mood toward him. He made his way over the threshold, surprised not to get something thrown at his head. He sat down beside her, never making eye contact.
"I think we need to talk... about what happened...the other day." He said, his entire face turning red.
"Oh, you suddenly had an epiphany, you finally remembered? You're done making me feel like an idiot? I'm sick of hearing them all laugh at me, every time I walk into the bullpen." She said suddenly enraged. She stood up, turned from him, and crossed her arms over her chest. It was like she was literally trying to hold herself together.
"Did you shut the door?" He asked her suddenly.
"What?" She asked in an extremely high pitched squeal. He walked over and turned the knob with no avail. Outside a chair was propped against the door handle, a "keep out" sign was taped up, and Patrick Jane was sitting in a chair reading the paper and laughing to himself.
"Did you get it?" She asked stepping closer to him. In fact when she turned toward him, she was close enough to smell his cologne. As the sent filled her nostrils she closed her eyes, there was just something about him that was completely intoxicating. When she opened her eyes he was smiling at her and it was her turn to blush.
"Van Pelt, I am so sorry. I honestly didn't remember anything until a day or two after the fact. I was so worried that you were upset that I just didn't say anything. I didn't know anyone was giving you a hard time. I just wish I hadn't done it." He couldn't even keep eye contact with her.
"Oh." Grace said sounding disappointed. "You really wish you hadn't done it? I thought that it was what you wanted most in world." She smiled at the last part but still had a disappointed tone in her voice.
His heart leapt thinking that maybe she wanted him to, but he still couldn't look her in the eye. He knew that they were watching her, probing him, and waiting.
"I...um...I can't." He stuttered keeping his head hanging downward. It was then that he realized that in all her fidgeting her white lace undershirt had sunk low enough below her black blouse to see a rather decent amount of cleavage.
Instantly jerking his head up and staring at the ceiling tiles, he loudly whispered, "God, Van Pelt, put some clothes on." She looked down at her shirt deeming it slightly inappropriate, but that wasn't the matter at hand.
She quickly reached up and cupped his face with her hands. "Don't change the subject."
He was too taken back by how quick she was to touch him again, or how good her fingernails felt on his cheeks, to produce words. She needed to understand why he felt the way he did. I mean they didn't have much in common, aside from working together and liking cheeseburgers. But there was something about the way her heart skipped a beat when he tensed underneath her fingers, that made her think that she was starting to feel the same.
"I need you to tal--" She said before he cut her off. Standing as close as they were to start with, it surprised her when he lunged forward and pulled her into a hug.
"I don't regret kissing you, Gr–Van Pelt, I just wish I was conscious at the time." He whispered into her left ear.
Never moving her head from his shoulder she whispered back "Me too." Turning her head she placed a soft kiss between his cheek and jaw.
"I really should go." She said pulling away and heading back towards the desk to grab her jacket. Rigsby just stood there saddened by the cold air that was now hitting his chest. He felt empty without her.
"Where are you going? The doors still jammed." He asked just then remembering. He preceded to knock a few times and yell about being locked in. He needed to get out of there, he was getting to close to her again. He needed time to think, time to plan his next move. He was thankful for hearing the chair scrape across the wood door on the outside. She brushed passed him on her way toward the door. He couldn't help himself (possibly due to the fact that she still hadn't fixed her shirt). He clutched her arm and she turned around. He didn't have to lean down far before she pushed up covering his lips with her own. It started off sweet and slow, but it didn't take a second for it to change to fast and consuming. It was full of need, and lust, and all the frustration of the last few weeks.
It was that particular point in time that Patrick Jane decided that they had enough time to work things out. He opened the door, slightly startled by what he saw, but nevertheless proud of himself. Both broke away from each other after hearing the door open. Jane just smiled at them and walked back out, closing the door behind him, and leaving the "do not enter" sign hanging on the outside.