a/n: This is obviously not a tag to any specific episode, but I have had this "what if Rigsby really had gone to San Francisco" thought rattling around for a while, and given recent events (blech), it seemed like a good time to explore the possibility. For now, this is a one-shot.
Rigsby had just cleared the last few items out of his bottom desk drawer into the cardboard moving box when he heard footsteps approaching. Only one person walked with that clipped staccato cadence.
Grace, he realized as he sighed heavily. Maybe Cho was right, I should have left this until tomorrow morning.
No. That was a coward's way out. He'd allowed himself to be talked out of doing the right thing once; he wouldn't do it a second time. The feel of Grace's hand on his shoulder startled him.
"Wayne? What's going on, why are all these boxes sitting around your desk?"
Steeling himself for inevitable backlash, he turned to face her, trying to put on his most impassive face. "I'm transferring to San Francisco, Grace. The paperwork just came through today. I have to report to the office Tuesday morning." He winced as he watched all the color drain from Grace's face.
"Why?" she whispered plaintively.
His shifted the box against his chest, creating a defensive barrier between the two of them. Why did it have to be this way? Why did it have to be so hard to walk away from her?
"Because I should have done this months ago, Grace. I let you talk me out of it before, and I still don't understand why. I guess I hoped you'd see that we were better together than we were apart, and you'd be okay with me making the move anyway. But now you have O'Laughlin ..." he tried with all his might to keep the bile out of his voice when he spoke that name, but judging from the expression on her face, he'd failed miserably; " … and I want you to be happy, Grace. I really do. But I can't stay here and see you with someone else. Not him, at least. I need a change. I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?"
"For letting you believe that I didn't value your career. For not fighting harder for us. I wish I knew how to be the man that you need to be happy, but I don't know what that is." He shifted the box of personal stuff to one arm and grabbed his keys and coat with the other. Turning back to her, he hesitated, briefly considering giving her a peck on the cheek before deciding against it, and instead started walking towards the elevators.
"Be well, Grace," he said sadly just as the elevator doors closed in front of him.
Grace barely had time to wrap her brain around what had just happened when Cho's voice cut through the quiet like an icy dagger.
"I told him he should have gone home before you got back, and come back to pack up his stuff tomorrow. Luckily for you, he's a better man than I am and he never listens to me."
Grace rounded on him, with half a mind to stomp over and slap that stony, self-satisfied expression off his face. She considered Cho a friend; how could he have let this happen? "How long has this been in the works?"
Cho shrugged. "Couple of weeks, I think. He didn't tell me until a few days ago, when it became likely that his request would be approved. And before you ask, no, it was not my idea."
"You're his best friend, why didn't you try to talk him out of it?"
Cho huffed. "I would have been more than willing to share the best friend job with you, if you'd had the guts to take it. As for why I didn't try to talk him out of it, why in the world would I do that?"
Grace stood slack-jawed, utterly dumbfounded that Cho seemed to think this was a good idea.
"As his friend," he emphasized angrily, "I want Rigsby to be happy. Failing that, I will settle for whatever will make him less miserable. Because when he's miserable, he's a pain in the ass. And that makes me miserable. If not having to face you and the enormous rock you're toting around every day will make him less miserable, even if that means he's not working here anymore, then I am all for it." Cho tossed a few files into his briefcase and shrugged on his coat. "See you Monday." He turned and stomped off down the hallway, preferring to take the stairs instead of the elevator.
Grace stood in the middle of the bullpen, seemingly rooted to the spot, unable to process what had just happened.
"That was a very unusual display of emotion, right there," Jane's voice echoed from the doorway of Lisbon's office. She should have known he'd been lying on Lisbon's couch, overhearing both of her conversations. "In all the years I've known Kimball Cho, I've seen him pop off like that a handful of times, maybe. I have to say, it's a little breathtaking to see how efficiently he can cut someone when he sets his mind to it." Jane chuckled quietly to himself as he flopped down onto his couch.
"Are you here to lecture me too?"
Jane waved a hand dismissively in her direction. "Lecture is such an ugly word, Grace."
She leaned back into her chair. "Did you know about this?"
"Lisbon told me the day after she got his request."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Grace whined.
"Lisbon did ask me not to, and in this particular case, I decided that discretion was the better part of valor. Besides, what would you have done if you'd known?"
"I would have tried to talk him out of it." she replied without a moment's hesitation.
"And who would that have benefited, exactly? He's putting up a pretty good front when he's got work to distract him, but the fact of the matter is, he's no good to any of us in his present state of mind."
Grace covered her face with her hands, feeling the tears she was fighting mightily against start to leak down her cheeks and through her fingers. "This isn't what I wanted for him. I never wanted him to go to San Francisco in the first place. I didn't want him resenting me for that."
"That, my friend, is what we in the business liked to call a self-fulfilling prophecy. The great thing about those kinds of predictions, Grace, is that they are 100 percent foolproof. Guaranteed to come to fruition, no matter how hard you work to avoid them. In fact, the harder you try, the faster you bring the end down upon yourself. The inevitability of it all just makes it that much more painful."
Grace reached into her desk drawer for her box of kleenex and blew her nose loudly. "What if he'd gone to San Francisco and realized he didn't love me as much as he thought he did? That we were only together because it was convenient?"
Jane shrugged noncommittally. "Then he would have stayed in San Francisco and you both would have been better off, wouldn't you? You aren't giving him enough credit for knowing his own heart."
He flopped over onto his side in order to face her from across the room. "I can say with a strong sense of confidence that Rigsby would have done whatever he could to make sure that San Francisco would have been a temporary separation, Grace. Whether that meant leaving the Bureau entirely, or trying to make a case that you should be given an opportunity to prove that you could be an exception to what I know he believes is a silly rule, he would have fought for it if you'd given him the chance. Whoever damaged your heart to the point that you believe you're not worth fighting for, has destroyed something very precious. Assuming that person is still out there somewhere, living and breathing, I would recommend against ever letting Rigsby within fifty feet of him. Although maybe having him beaten to a bloody pulp will help you get past it."
"I don't want to talk about that, Jane."
"Well, at least this time you acknowledged that there's even something to discuss. That's progress. Baby steps, Grace. The question is, who gets through to you first? Me? Rigsby? I doubt very highly it will be your charming fiance."
"I don't want to talk about him either."
Jane allowed that statement to hang in the air for a few minutes. Grace was about to pack up her things and head home when he finally decided to break the silence.
"You're never going to be equals, you know. Certainly not professionally speaking. No matter how high you climb the ranks here, he's still a Fed, with all the cachet that goes along with that badge. His career ambitions are always going to be higher priority than yours. Are you really prepared for that?" When she refused to answer his question, he pressed on. "Maybe you are. Maybe you're okay with being the cheerleader again, being with the Big Man on Campus because it's what's expected of you. Certainly easier than being with the boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Let me remind you of a couple of things before you leave: number one, you aren't 18 and this isn't high school. Number two, no one has ever found happiness by being complacent. It sounds cliché, but it's true: anything or anyone worth having is worth working hard for. Remember that." Flipping over so that he was now lying on his other side, with his back to her, he mumbled into the cushions of the couch. "Good night, Grace."
She gathered her things silently and waited for the elevators. As she pulled the heavy metal gate closed in front of her, she could only focus on one thought:
What do I do now?