Chapter Two

They sat on a bench outside with their food. Grace convinced him to try falafel. He didn't like the sound of a meatless Greek sandwich, but instantly converted when he found out that falafel was fried and you could drown it in as many condiments possible. Even pickles. This made him happy.

They sat their drinks on the ground by their feet and sat back to watch the world go by as they ate. Rigsby looked over and gave her a wistful smile. "I wanted to hold you when I finally told you this. I hate that I can't touch you here."

Grace wiggled her fingers surreptitiously at him from the bench. "You can have my hand at any time. Just reach."

He nodded and turned back to the green expanse in front of them.

"God, I don't even know where to start," he began quietly. She chewed without tasting. Waiting. He ripped into his own wrap and chewed while thinking. He swallowed, inhaled, and spoke.

"I was born in some derelict hotel room off Highway 395 somewhere outside of Reno. On my driver's license, my birthday reads July 14, 1978. I know the month is right, but the actual day is anyone's guess. I just chose the 14th because I liked the sound of it." He paused and breathed in slowly. Grace had stopped chewing, her food completely forgotten. He kept his thousand-yard stare and continued.

"My parents are bikers, Grace. The really, really bad kind. And actually, I should really only say that my dad's a biker. My mom is what they delightfully refer to as a biker groupie. She was young. She could ride. And she was infatuated with the Outlaws, my dad's gang. They're the main rivals of the Hell's Angels." He snorted angrily to himself. "I have the honor of being the son of one of California's Ten Most Wanted." He tore off another bite, chewing hard.

"I…growing up I…" Rigsby looked down at the space of bench between them. Grace instantly put her hand in the space. He exhaled shakily and put his own hand over hers. He took another unsteady breath. Grace flipped her hand underneath his and squeezed. He dropped his head and nodded. She was there for him.

"I rode, Grace. Most of my childhood was spent in a sling on my mother's chest or strapped in front of someone's seat. I think…I think in some sick way they thought it was cute. Not at first. I know my dad was furious at my mom for getting pregnant in the first place. He would have left her behind, but she kept finding them, riding with them every single day, even the day she gave birth. But eventually, the gang got used to me. I became their mascot. A little man in a leather jacket, helmet, everything. As long as I was quiet and didn't cause trouble, they allowed my mom and me to keep riding with them."

Grace squeezed his hand again and murmured softly. She looked around quickly before sliding a few inches closer to him. She brought her other hand around and stroked his forearm. "You're right. I wish we were holding each other."

He turned and smiled sadly at her. "Am I freaking you out with this? I can stop, if you want."

She shook her head hard and leaned over, quickly pecking his cheek. "This is you. I want to know anything you'll tell me."

He sighed softly. "I didn't go to school, not for many years. My mom…God, there's so much I could say about my mom. She wasn't really a mother, she just happened to have me as she whored herself to my dad. She did anything he said. When he told her to shut me up when I was crying, she'd take me into the woods with a blanket and told to sit away from everyone else so they didn't have to hear me. It was cold. It was scary. I'd stop crying because I thought monsters would jump out of the forest and get me. I…I hate the woods." His head dropped sharply, his eyes closed against the memories. Grace was furious with herself for making him tell her this now. She couldn't comfort him like she wanted to. She wanted to drag him into her arms, stroke his hair and whisper that everything was okay. She couldn't now. She would tonight.

"I learned various things from other gang members. Mostly mechanic stuff. But one guy taught me how to read. Another taught me math. Mostly, I just learned to be quiet. They punished me when I cried. They punished me when I threw tantrums. When I was six or seven, I cried that I didn't want to ride on a bike anymore. It hurt my legs and my back. I had to stay still for hours. The leather I had to wear was so hot. I didn't want to. I screamed my head off and fought my mom as she tried to put my jacket on me. My dad, he--," Rigsby broke off and choked quietly on a sob.

Fuck it. Grace closed those last few inches on the bench and hugged him hard. He turned into her and gripped her, burying his face into the crook of her neck and releasing a jagged moan against her skin. She cradled his head in her hands and put her lips to his ear. "I've got you. It's okay. Sshhhhhh, don't cry baby. Everything's all right." She pulled his head back so she could look into his eyes. She smiled softly at them. "I love you so much. No one can hurt you now. Shhhhh," she ran her thumbs under his eyes, wiping his tears away. He sniffed and lowered his head in her hands.

"I love you," he echoed. He wasn't telling her his feelings, just repeating her words. He looked up again. "I never heard that as a kid," he whispered softly. Tears welled up in Grace's eyes as well. Every child should be told that they're loved everyday, but Wayne? What bastards could rear this man and not love him? Not hug him just as she was hugging him? Not look into his sweet blue eyes and see an angel? She lowered her own head to hide her tears. "Poor baby," she whispered.

He tried to calm his breathing. He needed to finish. "He beat me. He's my height. He wore rings. He fought rivals all the time. He felt no pity. He brought all of that to the table. My arm, my ribs, my leg, my shoulder, he broke them all. I was so little, I couldn't protect myself. After that day, I didn't speak for two years."

Grace continued to stroke his face. She leaned forward and kissed him softly. She tasted the salt of his tears on his lips. He trembled against her mouth. He spoke softly against it. "I learned to be quiet."

"Come on," Grace gently urged him to his feet. He stood up limply, allowing her to lead him away from the bench, away from prying eyes. She walked him back to the CBI building, but instead of going into the office, she led him to the parking lot where their SUV was parked. She pushed the unlock button and opened the back door, climbing inside, pulling him with her.

He sniffed again and chuckled weakly as he settled in beside her and shut the door. "Taking advantage of my vulnerable state?"

She ignored his joke and straddled his lap, pressing her chest flush into his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for dear life. "In here, I can hold you like I want to," she whispered.

He nodded and wrapped his arms around her, shuddering hard. He hooked his chin over her shoulder as his hands moved restlessly over her back. "I'm so sorry, Grace. This…it's just so ugly. I never wanted you to know about it, really. I knew I'd have to tell you eventually, but…I hate my story. I hate that part of me."

Grace pulled back and looked him in the eye. She framed his face in her hands. "I love you. You're the best man I've ever known and I love you. Your story was a circumstance. It doesn't define you, and it sure as hell isn't who you are. You're a kind soul and an excellent cop. We're all judged by our actions. And babe?" She smiled softly. "You stack up better than most."

He gave her a small, embarrassed smile. She leaned forward and kissed him. She instantly deepened it, wanting him to feel her love and acceptance of who he was, everything he was. His lips moved gently against hers, still too emotional to equal her passion. She understood. She could be the strong one for the time being. She broke their kiss and brushed his nose with hers. "So why is he calling you now? What does he want?"

Rigsby hugged her tightly, shuddering again. "He's been arrested."