A/N: The second in the Bane series. Review your hearts out, people! I'm gunning for 100 by Chapter 20. Help me reach my goal and I'll totally make it worth your while. Wink, wink.

Reckoning

He looked even skinnier than Rigsby remembered. Paler. As he was led to the table where Rigsby sat and chained to a ring in the brushed steel top. Hollenbeck's sunken, haunted eyes regarded him suspiciously. The guard nodded to the agent. Professional courtesy. He looked down at the small man in his orange jumpsuit (two sizes too big) and tapped the table threateningly. "Behave or I'll fuckin' skull thump you, Holls."

Hollenbeck watched the man's back as he headed towards the door, hatred gleaming brightly. Rigsby wondered if he got beaten down often for mouthing off. He seriously doubted the man was a problem physically, but he'd easily believe that Hollenbeck would rub people the wrong way with his constant insistence that he'd been done wrong by. Inmates would find that beat-worthy. As would guards, if only so he'd shut up.

Prison clearly didn't agree with him.

"Agent Rigsby," Hollenbeck recalled woodenly. "What you are doing here?"

Rigsby tried to remember the story he'd invented as he looked Hollenbeck in the eye and tried desperately not to jump across the table and indulge in what the inmates and guards had inflicted on him.

"Routine follow-up," he answered as calmly as he could. "I have a few questions regarding the night you were taken into custody."

Dan snorted. "You mean the night I failed."

Rigsby lowered his head. "I mean the night you nearly got your ass blown off for almost killing an agent," he hissed.

Dan squinted. "What the hell are you talking about? Patrick Jane isn't a fucking agent. And I've been over this a million times. With the CBI, with my lawyer, at my trial. Use your security clearance and go read your own damn files. I've got nothing to add."

Rigsby heard him, but didn't absorb the words past where he denied almost killing an agent. Jane? Who the fuck was talking about Jane?

"I'm talking about Grace Van Pelt, you shit heel. You discharged a firearm no less than three times in her direction. You assaulted her and were discovered pointing a gun right at her when you were apprehended. Don't sit there and tell me you didn't almost kill her or I'll fuck you up so bad that it'll make your prison beatdowns feel like massage therapy."

Dan squinted in irritated confusion. "Grace had nothing to do with it. I'm sorry I had to involve her, but I had no choice. She worked with Jane and I needed her to get close. It was never my intention to shoot her."

Rigsby kept his hands flat on the table. It helped him concentrate by making them stay there. He wasn't the most disciplined of men and if he let his focus slip even for a second, he fists would go take care of business without him. He looked down at them to confirm they were still in front of him and not splintering Hollenbeck's temple.

He was mildly annoyed to find them behaving.

He leaned forward. "Why her?"

"What?" Agitation was a constant in this man.

His errant hand reached out and jerked Dan's chains, yanking him closer, forcing his attention. "You didn't need Grace. There are dozens of women in that building. You only needed access to the parking lot and building. Any woman working there could have let you in. Why her?"

"I told you," he spat. "She works with Jane. I needed to get close."

"Just close enough to shoot, asshole. You didn't need to get close enough for formal introductions. You didn't need Grace to get inside, walk up to our floor and blow his head off. You already knew who he was, so don't bullshit me about Grace being an integral piece of your plan. Quit fucking lying to me and tell me why you chose her." Risgby's voice was barely a whisper.

Dan sensed serious trouble behind it. He slumped back into his chair, chewing his bottom lip pensively. Finally, he looked up. "She was nice to me."

Rigsby flinched. He hadn't expected that. "What?"

Dan gave a defeated nod. "I had a list of possible women who worked in the building. Single, young, blah blah blah; women who might go for me if I played my cards right. I'd seen Grace outside your office in the parking lot. I knew from the website that she worked serious crimes with Jane. She wasn't even my first choice. I was afraid I'd be too close, get found out before I could kill him. I was waiting outside to bump into one of the women in Narcotics when Grace walked out. She didn't see me. Her nose was buried in a folder. She ran right into me outside the gate." Dan gazed ruefully at Rigsby. "She was so sweet, apologizing up and down and smiling nervously the whole time. It was so easy. I laughed and offered to buy her a coffee from the cart inside the gate. She said okay."

He held his chained hands up. "I was in. Just like that."

"You sick bastard," Rigsby growled.

"Oh, please," Hollenbeck sneered. "Like you'd be down here defending the honor of any other woman than Grace. You're only here because you're pissed off that I was dating your secret crush. The fact that I was using her runs a late second to the fact that you wanted her for yourself and couldn't have her."

Rigsby slammed his fists into the steel surface, but to his surprise Hollenbeck only laughed. "See? Even now you want to piss all over your territory and run me off like a stray dog. Why are you really here, Agent Rigsby? To ask if I had any intention of shooting Grace? Or to hassle a convict because your crush liked him and not you?"

"She's not my crush," Rigsby gritted.

"Ha!" Dan barked mirthlessly. "Lest we forget our little hissy fit in the bathroom right before I knocked you out with your own fucking gun, Agent." He drew the last word out pointedly.

A lot of stuff nearly fell off Rigsby's tongue as his rage chipped at his control. She's my girlfriend. She's my lover. I take her home every night and taste every inch of her until she calls my name. Mine! Not yours, you arrogant prick.

But he found the strength to keep it simple. "She's with me now."

Dan raised his hands in frustration again. "Mazel tov. So then what the fuck do you want?"

Rigsby stared at him for a long time, pondering his question. Just what did he want? Contrition? An admission that Grace was a wonderful human being and that Dan felt like a monster even aiming a gun in her direction? That Dan suspected that Grace never really felt that strongly for him and only dated him out of sweetness and pity? That Dan had actually considered giving up his crazy scheme once he'd gotten to know Grace and decided that being with her was more important than petty revenge?

Looking at Hollenbeck now, he suddenly realized that he wanted to ask all of these questions and receive all reassuring answers back. He also realized that Hollenbeck would never give them. All of these questions simply highlighted Rigsby's issues, not Dan's. Dan felt mild regret for pulling Grace into it. That was all. She didn't bewitch him. She didn't make him want to change his ways. She was sweet, but she was an acceptable loss in the hunt for Jane. She was just a nice girl.

Just a nice girl, as far as Dan was concerned.

The only reason for living, as far as Rigsby was concerned.

Insight filled him. He drew back and let it work its way into his anger. Gazing steadily at Hollenbeck, Rigsby let the realization pull him back into a calmer frame of mind. Grace was his, in every sense. This man had had the chance to be with her and chose vengeance instead. To Rigsby, that made him a fool. Just like Hollenbeck thought Rigsby was a fool; a lovesick fool that threatened legitimate boyfriends because he was too chickenshit to declare himself to the object of his affections. Hollenbeck couldn't have cared less about Rigsby's and Grace's frustrated attraction to each other, just like they couldn't have cared less about his issues with his parents and Jane's past dealings with them.

Now Dan was in jail. No one got hurt (except Dan). And Grace was with him now. That was all that mattered.

He stood up slowly. "I think we're done here," he said to Dan.

Dan smirked with disdain. "Have an epiphany, did we?"

"Fuck you, Dan. Enjoy your dime."

"Eight years, if I eat all my vegetables and say all my prayers," Dan snorted.

Rigsby was already waving the guard back in. The thick man shouldered his way in and jerked his chin towards Dan. "That blowhard give you any trouble?"

Rigsby shook his head. "Perfect little angel. Thanks for the private room, man. 'ppreciate it."

The guard nodded. "No prob. Carl there will take you out," he gestured to another guard by the door.

As Rigsby turned to leave, Dan called to him. "Hey! Tell Grace I'm still sorry. And tell Jane that I'll be out soon enough."

Rigsby didn't even turn around. Epiphany or not, Dan Hollenbeck could burn in hell and take his messages with him.