An/ This is going to be one ridiculously long authors note, so if you don't want to read it, just skim down. If you are still reading...YAY!

A huge shout out goes to my new beta tgrfan23. Thanks so much for your help, I appreciate it. Its good to know that I have help trying to get the characterizations right. You are like a dream come true.

Sorry that it took so long for this next chapter, at first I just got lethargic and watched a lot of TV on DVR, so by the time I actually got around to writing it, I found me a beta. This was an exciting developement until I emailed the story and didn't hear back from her for a couple of days. So naturally I felt a little annoyed, until I recieved a PM asking if I still wanted to send her the chapter to read. Yes, I'm a moron sometimes. Thanks tgrfan23 yet again. One last time you are awesome.

Thanks so much to all of you who reviewed, especially anonymously because I can't send you a thank you. You all rock.

I don't own the Mentalist, shocking given my maturity level. But sleep easy friends, The Mentalist is in capable hands and not me who gets writers block.

Chapter 3

"Don't look at her. Don't look at her..." Even an hour later, this was still the mantra racing through Wayne Rigsby's mind. He had his slipups in this effort, but on the whole he was doing fine. Noting that this was normally the time he got more coffee, Rigsby sat silently. In order to get more coffee, he would have to walk past Grace, and that had the potential to be the end of him. However, if he chose not to get his coffee, the entire CBI would be onto something. He was aware that it was common knowledge that he, under no circumstances, skipped on his mid-morning caffeine kick. Deciding that going through the motions of a normal day were his best chance at making it through this, he walked quickly, averting his eyes from the lovely redhead who kept her eyes glued to her computer screen. He thought he was done for when he caught a light whiff of her subtle perfume, but with the modicum of willpower his mother had taught him, he finally made it to the kitchen.

He peeked in tentatively, seeing that Jane was in there, making his tea. This could take any amount of time since Jane was anal retentive when it came to his tea. Rigsby had once had the misfortune of having to make it for him and it was an experience he didn't want to relive. He tried to decide if he wanted to risk having to talk to Jane about this, not really knowing if it was the best idea to let the ex-psychic in on the drunken exploits of Grace Van Pelt. Turning away slowly, he tried to sneak back to his desk before he heard someone loudly clearing his throat.

"I see you Rigsby." Jane said, not looking up from the cup he was stirring feverishly.

"Oh." Rigsby waved lamely. "I was just going to grab my coffee but I left my...cup at my desk so I have to go back and grab it."

"The cup that's in your hand?" Jane smiled skeptically.

"Oh, would you look at that." Rigsby feigned being startled but knew his acting left much to be desired. "Well, that was um...a close one." He went straight to the coffee machine, silently cursing his luck when he saw that it was empty. Grabbing the coffee bag from the shelf, he tried to make quick work of it.

"Rigsby, why are you avoiding my eyes?" Jane taunted.

"I'm not." Rigsby sputtered. "I just need to get back to work."

"So that's work now, avoiding Van Pelt." Jane chuckled.

"I'm not avoiding her, I'm just very busy." Rigsby reasoned but his rationalization fell upon deaf ears.

"Rigsby, every day, no matter the circumstances, you take five minutes and 'send Van Pelt vibes' as you've called it before. Except today where you've stared at your screen for the last two hours straight."

"I don't take time out of my day to send her vibes." Rigsby scoffed.

"Five minutes every day, in between when you boot up your computer and get coffee cup number one." Jane countered. Rigsby attempted to laugh but a strange choking sound came out instead.

"Rigsby, you're hiding something." Jane taunted with his natural ability.

"What? No." Rigsby shook his head, knowing that there was only a one percent chance that Jane would believe his lie.

"Yes you are." Jane said firmly. "You're avoiding eye contact and your palms are sweating. Also your upper lip is slightly contracted. Arms are kept close to you as to block me away from approaching. All these classic defensive moves are telltale signs."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Rigsby said, forcing himself to look Jane in the eyes.

"It has something to do with Van Pelt." Jane said, matter-of-factly. "She looks like she's gone through some emotional upheaval." He noted, pointing at the woman who was so anxiously watching her computer. "Just look at her."

Rigsby, thoughtlessly glanced over, his eyes burning from the memory of that epic occasion.

"Or don't look at her." Jane mused, growing more jovial. Deciding that he would give the now twitching man a dissection of the younger agent's behavior, he grinned widely. "If you look at how she's hovering over her computer, it's almost as though she's asking for it to protect her, presumably from someone in your vicinity as that's the way she's leaning. She doesn't dare look at Cho; it's as if she is ashamed of something. Grace, having unrealistic standards to which she holds herself and a moral compass that condemns any number of things, is probably facing the cognitive dissonance from doing something she knew she shouldn't have. Though narrowing that down could be quite impossible..."

"I think I could figure it out,"Rigsby mused to himself, but continued waiting for the coffee to brew so that he could go back to being invisible.

"My guess though would be that it's sexual in nature and involves some form of self-medicating. If Van Pelt is going to succumb to her vices, she's going to do it all the way. People who see the world in black and white tend to avoid the middle ground and do things in extremes." Jane noted. "Van Pelt wouldn't bring personal baggage to the workplace if it didn't have a seed there, which is why more than likely it has to do with you."

"You got all that from how she's sitting?" Rigsby said skeptically, feeling as though he should speak up.

"No, I got most of that from the way you're standing." Jane said truthfully. "But I could have gotten it from there. A good psychic knows how to read beyond people personally and look more into who they are most interested in."

"You said that you're not a psychic." Rigsby reminded lamely, not having a much better defense.

"No, but I know to be a good one." Jane said with a devilish grin. "If all of my observations are correct - which let's face it, they are - I would say that your best course of action is honestly facing Van Pelt and talking about what happened."

"She doesn't want to talk about it." Rigsby muttered, realizing he had broken his cover. "Because nothing happened."

"She meant what she said." Jane said, causing Rigsby to panic. "My bet is that she was too drunk to tell a lie."

"Really?" Rigsby asked before regaining his composure. "Nothing happened." He insisted before his curiosity got the better of him. "How--how did you know?"

"I know how to be a good psychic." Jane taunted, walking away with his tea.