A/N: So, it took me all my waking-but-none-work-related hours (well, most of them) from Thursday until now to write this. I had a major freak out at the end of Redline and just mumbled to myself: 'this is not happening, this did not just happen' like some kind of crazy person. While I think it's clever that just when they got what they wanted, they couldn't collect on it, I hated every other aspect of whatever-the-hell just happened. I will not accept that they do anything but fix this. Either way, this is my response.

Oh! Italics in some places indicate thought, though that should be pretty apparent (I hope!).

Plus, Jane makes an appearance: I absolutely do not think I wrote him well, but I desperately tried. He's elusive even in fic form. But, I think he's necessary because I've noticed that he and Grace seem to—for all their differences—trust and listen to each other very well.

Disclaimer: Not mine…I appreciate having them around to play with occasionally, but honestly, as someone who isn't even very good at writing Grace/Rigsby (though I try!), I think I could do a better job with my eyes closed. Seriously, writers, the whole "Moonlighting"-based theory of why you can't have characters together on a show without f*cking it up or waiting until the last minute is so 80s/early 90s. Get over it; I like them together, so stop messing with them! (Lest I be forced to write more fanfic with shameful disclaimers!) Ken Woodruff, you better step up the game next week.

Worth It

Grace couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned and stared at the clock until the minutes and the hours bled together. All she could do was replay the day in her head--first, the terrifying reality of almost losing her job and then Rigsby stepping all over his words. She wished that, for once, he could just stop saying the things that he thought would help and start saying all the things he felt.

This wasn't exactly how she thought everything would turn out. She never thought that in a single day, she could come so close to losing the two most important things in her life. But now, as she lay in bed, wrapped in a comforter that smelled too much like Wayne, she worried that she might lose the one thing that she had single-handedly made the decision to protect.

A week ago, she had put their relationship before her job. She hadn't seriously considered that Lisbon would come down so heavily on them. She always assumed that she would look the other way and that everything would work out. Hadn't those been her exact words to him? Everything will work out. But as soon as reality set in, she flinched.

But, frankly, he hadn't exactly been supportive. How could he not see how terrified she was to lose her job? How could he not see how much his off-handed comment about her impending transfer--masked as reassurance--had made that sinking feeling in her stomach worsen? Even if they both knew it to be true, he didn't have to say it.

And for all his declarations of undying love over the past few months, she realized that, once again, she had allowed herself to fall harder and faster than he ever had. She had honestly assumed that this story would have a happy ending. Here was this man that, days after meeting her, had fallen so head-over-heels in love with her that he put everything on the line--multiple times. It was only to be expected, then, that she could never be more in love with him than he so obviously was with her.

But, maybe, it never really was love. Maybe it was just a recycled line to try and get her into bed. One he knew was sure to work by her small-town charm and gullible pretty-girl looks. There was no way he fell in love with her personality after a half day on a case--he probably only lusted after her long legs and striking red hair. Maybe what he professed as love was only lust.

Maybe it was all one huge ruse designed to ultimately break her heart.

It was a major miscalculation on her part: believing him. One she never would have allowed before he waltzed into her life. And now, she didn't think that her heart--or pride--would ever recover.

Wayne Rigsby, I should have never fallen in love with you.

--

Wayne couldn't sleep. He thrashed around in anger as his long legs got tangled up in the sheets. He frustratedly kicked them from his body and onto the floor, tossing one of his pillows with it in protest. Her scent lingered in his apartment as if she were only flittering around in the next room. His heart ached for her.

He was an idiot. His idiocy, to this point, had been absolutely nothing new. His idiocy with her, well, it had never been this bad. Sure, he never said or did the right things, but she always regarded them with a slight smile and shake of her head. He would stutter over his words, give a goofy grin at an inappropriate time, or--worst of all--challenge Jane to a foolish prank. But earlier that day, he'd made the biggest mistake of that life. It left him trying to backtrack, but he knew that he was only digging himself deeper into the hole he'd managed to create for himself. For what seemed like the millionth time, he cursed his mouth for running away with his thoughts before he'd fully composed them.

His attempt at reassurance had upset her. His attempt at humor had enraged her.

He felt like he was trapped in a world where everything he said was automatically wrong. If he pulled her into that conference room and proposed, her eyes would go wide and she would stutter something nervously that would break his heart before she sprinted out the door. Instead, he had banished the idea, hoping that she would take it as a sign that he wouldn't pressure her into anything--that he didn't need anything more than she was willing to offer. Both were wrong.

But then she had said tomorrow, as though his fantasies of keeping her around forever weren't so one-sided, and he had been too stunned to hope. What if she was just using it as another way to prove that she was right and he was wrong? She wouldn't marry him after all the things he had said--she wouldn't even listen as he tried to explain. She just wanted to be right and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to propose to someone who was always keeping count.

Except that he really did want it; he was just too afraid to think he'd ever deserve her.

He glanced over at his cell phone and his fingers itched to dial her number--to make things right. But he couldn't. He would only make it worse. He'd tried to fix things once and it led to his current predicament. It was her turn to try and fix things. He had taken enough body blows over the past week and there was no way he was going to risk her telling him that they were over. It would break him.

Grace Van Pelt, I don't think I'll ever stop loving you.

--

She picked up the phone an hour later, just deep enough into her thoughts that she knew she wouldn't be getting to sleep any time soon. She dialed the now-familiar number, knowing he would be awake, and waited until his voice filled the silence.

"Grace?"

"Hey...I, ah, I needed someone to talk to."

She heard him chuckle over the phone and cursed her better judgment for not chiming in before she placed the call.

"Jane, don't give me any crap, okay? Can you just help?"

"Of course. I assume this is a problem with our resident arson specialist, yes?"

She sighed--even over the phone, he could still read her like a book. "Yes," she said simply, her voice sounding much smaller now than it had been in a long time.

"Grace, he loves you. You love him. Whatever it is, get over it," he said sounding a bit annoyed.

"It's not that simple. We got into this huge fight and--"

"Doesn't matter."

"You don't even know what we were fighting about!" She yelled at him indignantly, entirely regretting having called him, of all people.

"That also doesn't matter," he said quickly. He paused briefly as he gathered his thoughts. "What matters is that you called me at an unreasonable hour in hopes that I would tell you to call Rigsby up and forgive him.'"

"You're ridiculous--that's not why I called you," she protested, offering nothing in the way of further explanation. "And it's not like you actually sleep at night anyway."

"Well, you're right...but, you see, I am a broken and generally unhappy man, but you--you think you're broken and unhappy, but what you really are is scared and closed-off. You'll find any excuse to sabotage this relationship: that's why you made the decision to tell us in the middle of the bullpen last week and that's exactly what you're doing here by taking this fight and making it bigger than I'm sure it really is. Listen, Grace, real relationships have stumbling blocks; this is no exception. You just have to figure out whether you think it's worth it to stick it out."

"Is it?" she asked, her voice small and weary.

"Love is always worth it. It's up to you to decide whether you love him," he paused momentarily as the words sunk in. With a hint of regret, he added, "You never know when you'll wake up one morning and it all will vanish. When that happens, all you have are memories...It doesn't hurt any less just because you want it to."

"But it just feels like we want different things. If that's true, then it's going to hurt sooner or later…and I can't just forget about the problems we have and pretend like it's all better because that will only make it worse."

"Then don't. But be a grown up about it, Grace. Don't just throw it all away because you both got scared and said some things you probably already regret."

Grace let out a frustrated sigh. She hadn't said anything to regret. She shouldn't have to be the grown up.

"Thanks, Jane," she said finally, resigned to another sleepless night. There was no way she was calling him.

At least not tonight.

--

Rigsby flipped through his contacts four times before he finally pressed 'send.' The first three times, he had shut the phone angrily. He couldn't help but remember all the times he had caved for her. All the times he compromised for her and let her have her way. She made the decision that they should tell everyone, but he had been the one to announce it. She decided when they could be together, but he had to love her quietly from afar until she decided to let him in. She was allowed to be jealous of his date when she stopped by the office to pick him up, but he was berated for doing the same. Now, she was deciding the terms of their reconciliation--or their breakup.

He had been so busy reeling from the fact that she actually reciprocated his feelings to remind himself that she actually reciprocated his feelings. He let her hold all the cards and bluff herself to victory at his expense. And, until now, he hadn't minded one bit.

But then he remembered the fierceness in her voice in the back of the ambulance on a day not too long ago. She had smacked him with such force that he swore the sting of her hand would burn into his skull for days. He had never seen anyone so emotional at the thought of losing him. So, that fourth time, he decided that he owed it to the woman in the back of the ambulance to find a way out of this situation.

Her phone rang for what seemed like hours. He was sure she would refuse to answer, but just as he slipped back into frustration and anger, her soft voice filled the void.

"Hello?"

"Grace, it's--it's me."

Silence overtook them as his words were left lingering in the air.

"Okay?" she asked, annoyed at his silence: If he didn't have anything to say, he shouldn't have called.

"Can we...talk about this? Without fighting?" he tried tentatively.

She rolled her eyes and let out a huff. Right off the bat, this fight is my fault? This is not going to go well.

"I don't know. If you're going to start off like that, chances probably aren't very good for civility."

"Grace, please," he pleaded, "I'm trying here. I want us to fix this."

"Fine."

"Can we meet for coffee or something?" He hoped that neutral territory would put them on even footing and possibly keep the yelling to a minimum.

"No, I don't think this is a conversation that we should be having in public," she sighed, drawing in a shaky and unsure breath. "Come over here and I'll make us some coffee instead?"

"Yeah, okay. I'll be there in twenty." He hung up the phone before she could reply, trying to slow his beating heart. Always on her terms.

--

Twenty-five minutes later, he knocked at her door, a bag with two chocolate chip muffins in his hand. She opened the door wordlessly and ushered him in. He handed her the bag and spoke quietly as she peered inside.

"A peace offering of sorts: chocolate chip muffins from the 24-hour diner by my place that you like so much. I know you usually go for something healthier, but I thought both of us might need some chocolate-induced strength for...this. And they aren't as bad as, like, cake or--"

"Thanks. They--ah, they look good," she said, her tone even, but her body language showing that she was itching to get on with it.

"Listen, Grace...I'm not entirely sure how to handle this situation. The things I said to you were...stupid at best and I didn't--I never meant for it all to come out like that."

"What exactly did you mean for it to come out like, Wayne? Because I sure as hell know what it sounded like."

She stood in front of him, the crease between her eyebrows proudly on display and her hands on her hips. He matched her stance with vigor and clenched his jaw to keep his emotions in check.

"Frankly, I could do without the whiplash on every single comment I make--it's like you're looking for reasons for this to fail. You won't even let me say two words without jumping down my throat! How am I supposed to make this right if you won't let me?"

"I don't know if you can...I'm not convinced that we're headed in the same direction and I don't know if I want to keep doing this with you. Obviously all we do is fight--maybe we should just--"

"No."

Her eyes flashed daggers at him. "Excuse me, but you've been telling me what to do with my life all day long--I will not let you tell me whether I can or cannot end this relationship."

"Oh lay off it!" he yelled suddenly, temporarily stunning her into silence. "You've been calling the shots in this relationship since the beginning and I haven't said one word. You decided when we got together, you decided when we told Lisbon: you decided. I went along with it because I was so in love with you that I didn't know what to do with myself. This time is different--this time I get a say in what happens next."

His nostrils flared and he rotated his head around in a circle, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. Hurt flashed through her eyes unnoticed as his words sunk in.

"You don't love me anymore?"

"Wait...What? I never said that."

"Yes, you said that this time was different than all the others when you loved me. You--you don't love me anymore," her voice dropped to a whisper as she turned around to set the bag of muffins on her kitchen table, suddenly feeling too weak to hold herself up much less hold onto a bag of condolence muffins. "Maybe you never did."

"This is our problem with us, Grace. You can't keep jumping to conclusions...and I can't keep sticking my foot in my mouth." He shook his head and walked over to her, placing his hands comfortingly on her shoulders. "I will never stop loving you. Not even if you kick me out of here and refuse to speak to me again. I barely remember what it's like to not be in love with you. That time is all just...pointless."

He dropped a soft kiss into her hair, running his hands up and down her arms slowly before backing away. She turned around to face him--her eyes tired and her posture defeated.

"So, then let's back up--what exactly did you come here to say?"

"No interruptions? No conclusions before I'm finished?"

"I can't promise anything."

"You know I'm the first one to stumble over my words and I don't have anything prepared, so I'm winging it here. Please just let me work it all out and then you can yell all you want. Deal?"

"Fair enough."

"I think it's pretty apparent now that both our jobs are important to both of us. I thought you realized when we told Lisbon that this was probably going to be one of the consequences. It doesn't really matter whether it was going to be you or me--we would've had this fight regardless. I certainly didn't mean that your job is less important than mine. The point I was trying—and failing--to make is that no matter what happens, I want to be near you. Whether I'm transferred or you are—I won't let that break us up. I was trying to be reassuring—trying to let you know that no matter what, we have each other," he let out a shuddering breath, scrubbing his hand over his face as he remembered their fight. "But it didn't come out that way and now you're standing here next to me, but you're...so far away. I can't stand this. It hurts more than anything—more than losing my job."

"Is that all?" she asked, wanting desperately to interject, but trying to hold herself back.

"No, it's not. That other thing. The, ah, the marriage thing. Grace, I never thought in my wildest dreams you would want me long term...I figured I'd hang on like some sap until you were done with me and then just be happy that I got to be with you at all. When you brought up marriage, it felt like a cop-out. It felt like a sucker punch--I'm not your husband, so I get no say in your life. But here I am, making compromises for you, doing anything you ask me to do because I love you and you won't even say it back. I want a say in your life--whether you listen to me or whether you just disregard it altogether, I don't care. I just want to be able to plan a future with you. But here you are, basically telling me that I'm not allowed in. So, I agreed with you. Like I always agree."

"Wayne, I don't want you to always agree with me. I want a partner, not a lapdog."

He raised his eyebrows at her, effectively shutting up her interruption.

"I understand that...but I can't be your partner if I don't know how you feel. I'm not asking you to say it--and I don't want you to right now--but I'm bound to keep putting my foot in my mouth until I know that I'm not scaring you off by speaking my mind. You get upset because you don't think I want the long term, but how do you think I feel? How am I supposed to know what you want other than just trying to go along with it as it happens?"

He stared at her, but she kept her mouth shut expectantly, waiting for his next words. After a few moments, he broke the silence.

"I'm finished...you can, you know...yell at me now."

She cast her eyes downward and refused to look at him as she formed her thoughts.

"Fine. I haven't said it. You've said it a million and a half times. There has to be some happy medium. I don't want you agreeing with me because you think you'll push me away. You're pushing me away by not telling me what you're honestly thinking. I'd rather know everything than nothing. And the same goes for me." She drew in a deep breath and just as he was about to stop her, she held up a finger to silence him. Her eyes drifted closed as she tried to remember her earlier conversation. "Jane said something to me tonight that really--well, I think it's fitting. He said that love is always worth it and that just because you want it to, doesn't mean it will hurt any less if you let it go...I just need you to know that he's right."

"So, are you saying you love me or you're letting me go?" he asked apprehensively,

"I'm saying this is going to be difficult and that we have a lot of things to work through, but that I think this is worth it. We're not going to be a hundred percent tonight or tomorrow night or maybe even a few weeks from now, but we'll be stronger for it. Then, I think we could probably approach the idea of...you know," she said, holding her breath as she prepared to speak her next words, "planning for the future."

"I'd like that," he said, a goofy grin flashing across his face before reality interrupted. "Where do we go from here? I don't want us to 'forgive and forget' because we'll just run into these issues again...But I really, really want you to forgive me."

His eyes pleaded with her like she was the last one that could save him from drowning. She gave him a pained smile, finally aware just how much of a toll this day had taken on their relationship. This wasn't simply about his words or hers. It was deeper. It was an issue of communication that they hadn't quite figured out yet.

"Fights like this are two-sided, babe. We're both to blame. But I think we can forgive each other without ignoring it." She took a few steps toward him, standing a few feet away. "Meet me halfway?"

He crossed the distance to her. "Only if it means we get to kiss and make up."

She smiled up at him and took his hands in hers, tilting her head upward as he bent down to capture her lips in his.

"Deal," she said, wrapping her arms around his strong frame and resting her head against his chest.

Loving you is most definitely worth it.

The End.

A/N: So, I re-watched the episode a couple times and was torn in who was at fault. This fic possibly doesn't make any sense but here's my thought-train: Maybe it's my desire to make Rigsby into not such a bad guy, but I think they both were at fault. Grace had every right to be angry over the implications in Rigsby's words (hell, I would be), but she also turned his words around on him without letting him get out what I think he was really trying to say. Generally, I'm not very happy with the way they worded this fight. I think it could've been so much better and less antiquated without losing any of its substance.

Also, I realize now that I keep making Grace have second thoughts about whether he loves her, but I think that stems mostly from how quickly he seemed to fall for her and that I don't know if she remains convinced that it's not just sex.

I'll stop backtracking and rambling now…Let me know what you think! Please review!