Wow, where'd that little bit of VP/Rigsby come from?? Anyway, this is the end for those who are not Jisbon fans. I will have an epilogue later (maybe in a few days?) for those who are Jisbon to the core. Last chapter before the epilogue—and the new episode is in mere HOURS!!!!!!
"I don't care if they eat me alive. I've got better things to do than survive."
Chapter Seven: Resolutions
********************************************************
Rigsby looked around the office in surprise. Huh. Jane had been right. About everything. Sure, he was glad Lisbon was free of charges, but wow. All that in one day.
Van Pelt had confirmed that Dr. Carmen had been sinking further into debt for the last eighteen months, but had recently been receiving hefty deposits. An a closer look at the inventory of medications he had access to revealed that amounts—so small that they would normally go unnoticed—had disappeared. Conveniently, drugs used specifically as sedatives as well as those that induced short-term memory loss, paranoia, and aggressive behavior.
When confronted by Rigsby and Cho, the doc had crumbled like a cookie left in water. Given up what he knew of his contact, which had only been a name and a phone number.
Apparently, it had been easy for Dr. Carmen to drug Lisbon. He had profiled her, pinned down her daily behaviors. And when she wasn't drinking his coffee, he could easily figure out a way to drug her own. Agents tended to let their guard down a bit at their own headquarters.
Rigsby wondered if he would ever feel at ease here again.
Van Pelt and Cho had worked magic and tracked the unsub through bank and phone records. The killer hadn't tried too hard to cover his tracks. You know, grace of God on his side and all. What a nutcase.
In the end, they had found travel records for the man and discovered him staying at a local church. Close enough to watch his plan unfold. To watch an innocent woman sentenced to a life behind bars all because she had done her job and captured a criminal. Weird how things worked out…
When they had gone to bring him in for questioning (by this time, they had quite a bit of evidence, including the testimonies of the other eyewitnesses of the McTeir murder—all of which had been paid off), he had snapped. Ranting at them about justice and morality, he had attacked Cho before being contained. Cho, the consummate and unflappable professional that he was, had hardly batted an eye. Reciting the Miranda in a monotonous continuum, he cuffed the man and headed for the car.
And just like that, Lisbon was exonerated. All because of Jane's hunch. How long would it have taken for them to figure that out? Would they have? Rigsby hated to admit it, but probably not. None of them—not one—had looked so hard, had worked so hard for Lisbon. He felt ashamed just thinking about it. This clinched it. They needed Lisbon. Their team was only a team because of her. She kept them together.
Through the blinds of Lisbon's office, Rigsby saw Jane hovering by her desk as she sat slumped in her chair. He glanced to Van Pelt's desk and saw her there, head in her hands. Swallowing heavily, he made a snap decision.
"Van Pelt."
She looked up. Her expression showed how upset she was by the case. Not just Lisbon being fingered for murder, but the fact that someone so close had had a hand in it. Someone working with them. At the Bureau.
Rigsby gave a little half smile, unaware that it made the redhead's heart skip a beat. "Want to grab a bite to eat?"
She seemed surprised, then composed herself, smiling at him in that soft way of hers that made him realize that this was it for him. "That would be great, Rigsby."
Together, they gathered their stuff and left. Eventually they'd get over it. Not now. Not tomorrow, but someday.
Rigsby grinned as he looked down on the woman walking beside him.
Someday.
***********************************************************
"Gonna be okay?"
Lisbon looked up to Jane, feeling a bit nauseous. "Of course."
Her tone allowed for no argument, but, of course, it was Jane. "The medic said you'd feel a little sick for the rest of the day. Just a remainder of coming off being drugged consistently. You really should go see a doctor just to be on the safe side."
"I'm done for a while with doctors," she said a little bitterly.
"He was a psychiatrist. Doctors are different," Jane reminded, watching her carefully. She shrugged.
"Doesn't matter. Too close for comfort at the moment."
They fell silent, each unsure where to go from there. The past couple of days had been both awful and blurred for Lisbon. She looked down to her hands, seeing them clasped tightly together.
"Thank you."
Jane jerked a little in surprise. "Wha—"
Lisbon didn't allow him to finish. "Thank you. For believing in me. For fighting for me."
She glanced up at him quickly. "For saving me."
"You'd do the same for me," he said positively. She shook her head.
"You don't understand. When you came in after my outburst, I—well, you just…you anchored me in a way I haven't felt in years." Bending her body over in her chair, she rested her forehead against her desk. "I can't believe I just told you that."
Jane remained quiet, sensing she needed to get this out. He thought that maybe he needed to hear it, too.
"Feeling your hand in mine brought me back. I don't know really where I was or where I was going, but it wasn't good. And you kept me here." She lifted her head, hesitating a moment before meeting his steady gaze. "You saved me."
They watched each other.
His voice was tender when he spoke again. "Like I said, you'd do the same for me."
And in that moment, Lisbon knew that even if what they had wasn't love, even if it wasn't friendship, it was special. It was indefinable. And it was theirs.
At that moment, she didn't care about her job. She didn't care about her past. Didn't care if Minelli was standing right outside her door, didn't care about what would happen after.
She stood and started toward him. He met her halfway, enveloping her in his arms.
And though neither of them spoke, they each found a comfort in the other that they found they absolutely needed. He wondered how he had gotten so dependent on her, how she didn't even notice it. She wondered if she should step away, get further from her strange addiction. But, once more, she couldn't.
In his arms, she didn't focus on her breathing, on her heartbeat, on the fact that she was alive.
She focused on him. And the fact that she wasn't alone.
Not anymore.
