She'd had no formal training as a child. Her mother baked cookies for a living and her father was a football coach. They'd never owned a gun or even had one in their home. Still, when she fires a gun for the first time, it feels natural. Like she was made for it.
When she fires the gun at Craig, she flinches.
She does not shoot to kill, just enough to incapacitate him. Craig's eyes are terrifyingly blank.
Grace has looked into the eyes of a lot of perpetrators. She's seen them all: the guilty, the innocent, the kind that committed a crime but did not take the life. She's never seen eyes like Craig's before. Blank, lifeless. Like a criminal who is beyond proud of what they've done.
Red John. Ever since she got into the academy, all she hears about is Red John. The closest she's ever been to the monstrous serial killer was
She never thought she'd be directly affected.
Everyone knows an FBI agent worked for Red John. Everyone knows Grace and he were set to be married. Everyone thinks she should've known.
The office has emptied out, so at least she doesn't have to deal with the pitiful eyes on her back. She gets some coffee. It tastes burnt, like it always does, but anything is better than going back to the cold of her apartment and having to face the memories of Craig.
Well, the office isn't entirely empty. It's her and Patrick Jane. The only man with demons bigger than hers.
He hasn't said a word to her since the incident and hasn't looked at her. Grace knows he feels the same as everyone else. She should've known.
Jane rifles through a book, legs crossed, laid back. Grace sips on her coffee, trying to focus on her work. She wants to say something, but she can't come up with the words. An apology, an acknowledgement, but Jane is a hard man to read. Grace doesn't know what he might be expecting.
Grace is halfway through rifling through an autopsy report when she hears Jane clear his throat. She squeezes her eyes shut.
Oh God, here we go.
When Jane was on TV, Grace used to watch his show. She had a fickle dream of going on his show, connecting with her sister, maybe having a chance to tell her the thing that Grace has been holding onto for years. Of course, that was before she found out he was a potential fraud.
Jane represented a chance for her to connect with someone she lost, even if it was a lie. It's something she'd been holding onto for years. How is she supposed to face that man knowing she was engaged to a man who knew the person who took Jane's family?
Grace hates the taste of guilt.
"Van Pelt."
Grace turns off the computer, no point in pretending to work anymore. She has really tried avoiding being alone in a room with Jane, but it was of no use. The guilt is starting to climb up the back of her throat.
"Grace."
Grace spins in her chair. She tries to sit still - knowing that Jane would call her out on her anxiety and nervous habits - but it's hard to do that.
Jane's face is blank, hard to read. She's never been great at reading people. She's more of a get-evidence-and-convict-them instead of trying to do a hot read. After all, good agents focus on the evidence, but just for once, she wishes she had Jane's abilities.
Grace can physically feel the time passing by as Jane refuses to say a word. His gaze is intense and her heart is slowly climbing up her throat.
"What are you doing?" Grace finally asks.
"I'm trying to think of what to say." Jane says, eyes full of sincerity. It's the first time Grace has ever seen Patrick Jane speechless.
Grace chuckles and Jane raises an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, I just… you always have something to say."
"It's not your fault."
The smile drops off Grace's face. There's a chill running through her veins. "What do you mean?"
"I know what you're thinking. Let me ask you something: how could you have known that Craig was not what he said he was?"
It's a question that's been haunting her for weeks. When she tries to sleep, it's all she can see, burning in the back of her eyes. How could she have known?
She sleeps with a gun under her pillow. All the dead bodies she's seen, all the cases she's solved, this is the deal-breaker. The fact that she shot her fiance.
"You shouldn't blame yourself."
"Well," Grace shakes her head, clears her throat. Her eyes are brimming with tears. "That's easier said than done."
Jane gets it. Of course, Jane gets it. There's no one in this world who understands her situation better than Jane. The guilt, the shame, the regret. Jane has been through that hell and back.
"Of course." Jane mutters, slowly nodding his head. "I get it. But, you want my advice? I think you should get help, Grace."
Grace scoffs. "Is that what you did?"
"No, I let it eat away at me until the only thing I thought about was putting my hands around Red John's neck and squeezing the life out of him."
When she, Rigsby and Cho once got too drunk on a Thursday, she'd asked them what they thought of Jane's Red John plan.
Cho, unsurprisingly, agreed with Jane. "I would do worse."
Rigsby refused to say another word and had three more beers.
Grace didn't believe in revenge. She understands it, understands the rage and the pain and the hurt, but she finds it hard to agree with Jane's philosophy. How could a person who works in law enforcement not believe in the system?
The one thing Grace held close to her heart were her beliefs. Her belief that one day, she'd be able to tell her sister how she truly felt. Her belief that everything between her and Rigsby would eventually work itself out. Her belief that Jane would change his mind about having to take a life, even the one that destroyed his own.
"I know you don't agree." Jane says, then chuckles. "You're just like Lisbon when it comes to Red John."
"Lisbon?"
"If I kill Red John, Lisbon has promised me that she'll arrest me."
"And you won't rest until Red John is dead."
Jane smiles. "Precisely."
"What's the difference between you and me, then? I want to see Red John suffer, too. I want to see that bastard pay."
She still hasn't sold her engagement ring. She should. Sell it, destroy it, donate it to a homeless shelter. But instead she keeps it in the top drawer of her nightstand, just to remind herself. She's going to make that son of a bitch pay.
"Revenge is only for madmen who have nothing to lose." Jane says, and there's no sadness in his tone. Just pure acceptance. "You have something to live for, Grace."
Grace spends the night reorganising her clothes and arranging her books. Her eyes burn from the lack of sleep, but every time she tries, she sees Craig's lifeless body. He haunts her, hiding in the shadows of her apartment.
She can't stop thinking about what Jane said. What makes Jane think she isn't a madman? She behaves like one. She certainly feels like one. Only madmen lose sleep over shooting their ex boyfriends.
Maybe she should get help.
"I would appreciate it if you wouldn't mention this to anyone." Grace says, as she picks at her nails.
Lisbon's office smells like stale coffee and fingerprinting ink, especially at 7 in the morning, when Lisbon hasn't stopped making cups of coffee. Lisbon yawns, quickly covering her mouth but it's obvious she's sleepy. After all, it is 6 in the morning. Grace wanted to get this done before there was anyone in the office to see her.
"I think it's a great idea." Lisbon says, and she grabs a notepad off the stack of her closed case files, quickly noting something down. "I'll ask Dr. Palmer to schedule a meeting with you as soon as possible."
"Great." Grace gets out of the seat, but she can feel Lisbon's eyes on her back.
"Can I ask you something, Van Pelt? What changed your mind? I thought you hated the mandatory counselling sessions."
"I- I did." Grace coughs. "Uh, Jane changed my mind."
Lisbon doesn't even look mildly surprised. "I'm glad. I think this will do you a lot of good."
"Thanks." Grace opens the door, ready to head out and Lisbon gets out of her seat with her empty coffee mug. "If Jane hurts Red John, will you actually arrest him?"
Lisbon's eyes slightly widen in surprise but she doesn't ask. She doesn't need to. She leans against the desk, crossing her arms.
When Grace first came to the CBI, she was thrilled to have a female boss, especially one as decorated as Agent Teresa Lisbon. A systematic, by-the-book boss who wouldn't bend the rules, no matter who came across her desk. Even if it was someone as special as Patrick Jane.
It's no surprise when Lisbon says: "Without a moment's hesitation."
Grace nods in understanding. "Thanks, boss."
They schedule an appointment for Thursday. When she meets Jane's eyes before she steps into the counsellor's office, he gives her a subtle nod.
"Hi, Grace." The counsellor gives her a smile. "What would you like to talk about today?"