Always There
Always There.
Author: vanrigsby
Artist: justlook3
Link to art: http://justlook3.livejournal.com/161400.html
Word Count:
Rating: T, because I have no idea anyway
Summary: It was a tough case, for some more than others. Grace knew that. [Tag to 5.04]
Disclaimer: It's not mine, you already know that. Not justlook3's either. Unless one of us is Bruno in disguise… No copyright infringement intended.
Notes: Life got in the way of posting this fic on its original day, despite the fact that both justlook3 and I had already finished! I hated seeing Rigsby so upset and alone at the end of this episode. Hence, a fic. Hope you enjoy.
xxx
Rigsby clutched Ben tightly to his chest as silent tears slid down his cheeks. He watched absentmindedly as one slipped off his jaw and splashed soundlessly onto his son’s forehead. He lifted one hand and gently wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. Ben’s eyelids flickered, but he did not wake from his slumber. He glanced at the clock. How long had he sat here, silently crying over a father that wasn’t really a father at all? Someone who had been nothing but a thorn in his side his whole life, someone who just gave the rules and the law the finger. Someone who was completely unworthy of his tears.
But he knew he wasn’t crying over the fact the he was dead. Sure, he was sad that he didn’t have a father anymore, but he was sadder for what could have been. All the times he thought his father could have changed. All the times when he didn’t have a dad, but he needed one. For the times when he was a young boy and he wanted to play ball with his dad in the backyard. For the times when he needed a man to talk to as he was going through the confusing stages of puberty. For the time when he had graduated the police academy, gotten his first promotion, had a son. He was crying for the dad he could have had, the grandfather Ben could have had. The grandfather who could take him to baseball games and the movies and the park. The grandfather who could sweep up the little boy in his arms and lift him high into the air, love shining from his eyes.
He looked down at his sleeping son, making the decision to take him to bed when he saw Ben’s peaceful face. He walked to the young boy’s room with Ben cradled lovingly in his arms. He placed him on the bed and pulled the sheets up to his chin. Subconsciously, Ben rolled over and mumbled something incoherent, his noises muffled by his dummy. Rigsby smiled weakly, one of his wayward tears sliding off his cheek and landing on the pale blue sheets, making a tiny dark circle. He bent down to kiss Ben’s cheek, looking up when he heard a knock at the front door.
He looked through the peephole before he opened it.
“Grace, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Rigsby’s tone held no maliciousness, only genuine surprise.
“I brought Chinese,” Grace smiled softly at him, holding up a paper bag with Ming Dynasty Chinese printed on the side next to a miniature cartoon dragon.
“Come in,” Rigsby stepped aside to let the redhead through. She walked past him, her soft scent of lilac, mixed with a scent that was utterly and uniquely her, floating through the air, and he couldn’t help but smile slightly.
Grace walked into his apartment and headed straight for the kitchen, grabbing a couple of forks before returning to the lounge room where Rigsby was standing. He thanked her as she held out a box to him, and they sat on the couch. The two of them ate their meal in silence, Rigsby not wanting to talk just yet and Grace understanding that.
When they were finished, Grace collected their rubbish and disposed of it in the bin. She looked at him from across the room, and when she spoke her melodic voice filled his ears.
“So Ben’s in bed?”
“Yeah,” Rigsby replied, standing up. “Would you like to see him?”
“Sure,” Grace smiled, the sight of it dazzling him for a moment.
He walked past her and to the doorway of Ben’s room, where he stopped to one side to allow her to peer in. She leant around the doorway, and when she saw the sleeping boy, she let out a breath in awe and simply said, “Wow, he’s incredible.”
Rigsby just nodded in response to her statement.
“Looks a little like you,” she murmured with a small smile.
Rigsby was hit with a wave of remorse. His boy would have to grow up in a split home. His mother hated his father, and his father had never really loved his mother. Rigsby hadn’t wanted a son; he wasn’t ready for it. But now that he had Ben, he wouldn’t give him up for the world. His little man would only have been made all the more better if he’d been Grace’s.
X
Before long, they were back in the lounge room, both on the same couch but angled towards one another, and Grace was looking at him with those eyes that could say a whole conversation without her having to speak one word. Right now, they were just asking if he was okay. There was compassion and concern glimmering in the shadowed green depths.
“I’m okay,” he told her, trying to sound convincing.
Grace’s eyes narrowed. He could tell that she didn’t believe him.
"Well, maybe I'm not 100% right now," he relented after a moment. He could never really hide anything from her.
"It's okay, Wayne," she soothed, reaching out and resting a hand gently on his forearm. "You just lost your dad. It understandable that you're not doing so well."
Rigsby looked at her. "Did your dad ever tell you that he loved you?" he asked abruptly.
Grace looked taken aback for a fraction of a second, before regaining her composure. "Well, yes. A lot. But Wayne," she amended, when she saw something dark flash across his face, "just because your dad never told you that he loved you doesn't mean that he didn't."
"He's gone." Wayne murmured. "He's really gone. All these years, I kept thinking 'god Dad, you're gonna get yourself killed one of these days', but now he's really, truly gone."
Grace reached up, moving her hand to his shoulder. This case had been tough on everyone. It always was when a member of one of the team's family was involved. It was the same with Tommy and Annie when they had come in. Lisbon had been stressed beyond belief. Granted, they hadn't had the kind of involvement in the case that Rigsby's father had, but she could only imagine the stress Rigsby had been under, and now the pain he would be in.
It had been a tough case on all of them, she knew that. But it had been the worst for Rigsby. And it was tearing her apart, seeing the big man so vulnerable and hurt in front of her.
"Everyone was scared of him. Everyone hated him. He was a bastard," Rigsby said harshly, tears welling in his eyes, "but he was my father." His voice had softened, and broke slightly on the last word, and Grace shuffled closer to him and moved her arm so it lay across the back of his shoulders.
"It's okay to miss him," she said, rubbing his opposite shoulder softly. "No matter how much of a bad guy he was, you still loved him, as you should, because he was your father. Nothing could have changed that."
Rigsby sniffed. He would not cry. No matter how hard this was to get through, no matter how much he wanted to, those tears could well up all they like, but he was determined not to let them slip over the edge. Not in front of Grace. He could cry in private, when there was nobody around, or when Ben was there. Ben wouldn't remember, or barely even notice. But not in front of Grace.
Grace could see that he was struggling not to cry. She rested her head on his shoulder.
"Do you want to talk about it, Wayne?" she asked.
She could feel him shake his head. "No. Not really."
"Okay," she nodded. “Do you want to be alone?”
His head shook again. “Nope.” She felt his arm come up around her back, holding her to him in kind of a one-armed hug.
After a few minutes of silence, Grace lifted her head from his shoulder.
"Look at me Wayne," she grabbed both of his shoulders with her hands and turned him towards her.
"You are not your father," she said to his watery blue eyes, and watched as a stray tear escaped the confines of his lids and slipped down his cheek. "You are a great man. Despite being a bad man, your father did love you, in his own way, really. You didn't need him."
Rigsby nodded mutely, more tears streaming down his face in a slow steady river. He lowered his head and she pulled him closer. His head rested on her shoulder, and his arms went around her in a hug.
"Thank you," his words came out muffled against her shoulder. "For being here for me. No one else came."
He'd called Sarah, and managed to hold it together enough to leave her a message stating that he lost his father. He'd thought she would come. But, alas, she didn't.
"Always," Grace said, rubbing her hand over his back slowly and comfortingly as his body began to shake slightly with his silent sobs.
She was there. Always there.