A/N: Moving slightly off script here. Post Red Scare. I toil in the realm of fanfic, my scripts sent to Bruno Heller go unanswered. Hence, I own nothing. This goes out to Ses, with whom I freebase Mentalist and Oreos. Ses, this one's for you.

Chapter One

The phone rang exactly twice before she saw Rigsby pick it up. "CBI, this is Rigsby." Holding the phone to his ear, he winked at her.

Grace smiled to herself and looked back at her computer. She couldn't help herself. Every time his phone rang, she looked over and listened to him answer it. She had no idea why. They'd known each other for over a year now, she must have heard him answer his phone a hundred times, and yet now that they'd been dating for a few weeks now, she felt like she needed to see and hear everything he did with new eyes. A girlfriend's eyes. She smiled again at the thought, keeping her eyes on the screen and not letting them wander over to him again. His girlfriend. My boyfriend. She wondered if he did the same, watching her do everyday tasks with new interest. Or had his fascination with her ever waned?

Knowing him, probably not.

For the past year, she'd felt him watch her with more interest than was seemly for a partner, or even a friend. On the more intense days, that interest graduated into full-fledged longing. She'd felt it radiating from him. The field seemed to bring it out in him the most. She'd be walking in front of him, or leaning over a piece of evidence, and she'd turn and find him staring openly. Longingly. At first, it irritated her. Just another jerk checking out her ass when she wasn't looking. Then it just discomforted her. He wasn't a jerk, she learned over time, but his appraisal was still inappropriate. She appreciated it, but didn't want to be known as the chick that Rigsby was crushing all over. She worried about her budding reputation. She couldn't afford to even entertain his interest. Even smiling at him could be seen by others. Misinterpreted by others. She knew only too well that her fall from a promising agent to a mens' room joke could be clocked with an egg timer if she wasn't vigilant. She'd seen it happen with more careless lady cops. She would not join their ranks. Never.

She snorted softly. Well, it looked like never lasted exactly 14 months. Pathetic, really. She'd been so busy reinforcing herself in the event of macho come-ons that she forgot to plan against sweet, earnest affection. She'd braced her heart's walls for a battering ram. She didn't plan for a barrage of arrows over the top. Gold tipped arrows. They flew over her walls like birds before zeroing in on her. She'd evaded as best she could, but Cupid never missed. She was struck. Hard. And now? She loved Wayne with an almost frightening intensity. As a result, everything he did was worthy of close study. So. She listened to his voice as she worked.

When he spoke again, her interest morphed instantly to concern. "Who is this?"

Silence for a moment. Grace looked up from her computer. Rigsby was gripping the handset. His face, always so good-natured, had turned flinty. His eyes had gone dead. He worked his jaw. His neck muscles flared. Grace swallowed at a visage she'd never seen before. Wayne was enraged.

"I don't give a fuck," he hissed quietly into the phone. Grace flinched at his words. "Don't call here again." He slammed the phone down so hard that she was sure she heard the plastic crack. He stared at the phone, breathing hard through his nose. His jaws were locked together. Grace was almost afraid to speak.

"Wayne?" She kept her voice low and soft. They were the only ones in the bullpen. Cho, Jane and Lisbon were out on a case. They'd been left behind to catch up on paperwork and answer phones. She risked giving him a worried look.

He looked up at his name. He seemed surprised to see her, like he'd forgotten she was there in the 15 seconds between his wink and breaking the phone. He tried to soften his eyes. He tried to crack his mouth into a smile. He tried, but flint doesn't soften easily.

"Who was that?"

He shook his head quickly. "No one."

She lifted her head higher, signaling her dislike at being lied to. "Wayne."

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it," his terse response was clipped and dismissive. Grace didn't like it. Not one little bit. He lowered his head to his desk, making it clear that the conversation was over and he was going back to his paperwork.

Grace glanced at the clock. It was 11:39. She looked back at him, his shoulders hunched angrily as he bent over his work. His eyes were glued to his desk. She didn't think he'd respond to talking again, so she opened up an email message instead. She hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the keys. Should she push? Should she insist? She shook her head softly. No. With Wayne, there was only one sure-fire way she could reach him. She entreated.

Please talk to me. Tell me what's wrong. Lunch? 12:30?

Grace

She reread it six times. Add more? Less? Screw it. She hit send.

She kept her eyes on her computer, trying to get back into the research project Lisbon had given her as she impatiently waited for his answer. Her heart jumped when she heard the faint ping from his monitor, telling him he had mail. He swiveled in his chair to his screen and clicked on the mail icon. He paused as he read.

Grace swallowed and kept typing. She tried like hell to watch him out of her peripherals. She breathed with relief when he started typing. He went back to his file and she waited with more impatience for his answer.

Ping!

She opened the icon.

I'm fine. Honest. But lunch sounds nice. How about the Greek place you like?

Wayne

P.S. I love seeing your name pop up on my screen.

She couldn't help her smile. As much as she didn't like him hiding behind the Façade of Fine (as her mother called it), her heart fluttered at his postscript. Even furious, he was the sweetest man alive. She went back to work feeling better. Whatever had just happened, she would try her best to get it out of him. She was his girlfriend, after all. They were supposed to share their lives with each other. She felt a small thrill at the thought.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They walked out together, keeping a professional eight inches between them as they wandered down the street towards the gyro stand. Rigsby seemed happy to just walk in silence, but Grace felt agitated. Who could have possibly infuriated him in three seconds flat? Who would Wayne ever swear at and hang up on? Being a gentle soul, it took a lot to annoy him, never mind anger him. It was as bizarre as his sudden taciturn silence. He always talked to her, about anything he could think of. Now he was a damn sphinx. Silent, except for the riddle of who called. Irritating.

Grace took action.

Looking around furtively, she pulled him by the hand into a small side street, leaned into his chest and captured his lips. He stiffened in surprise, but quickly responded, deepening their kiss and wrapping his arms around her. She moaned softly into his mouth, happy to feel him reciprocate. His tongue slid into her mouth and she shocked him sucking on it gently. Knowing how much it turned him on, she usually reserved that move for private places where he could react without fear of public indecency. He growled quietly and she giggled. She pulled back, but not before brushing her lips teasingly over his as they broke away.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hey," he smiled gently back.

She burrowed her face against his shirt and hugged him around his back. "I hate seeing you unhappy. Please tell me what happened. Who called you?"

She felt him stiffen in her arms. She couldn't bear it if he tried to pull away. "Please?" She looked up with worried sadness shining through her eyes. "Please."

Rigsby crumbled at her expression. She knew that seeing her sad killed him. It was even worse knowing he was the cause of it. And she said please. She had a way of making it sound so fragile. So tenuous. He felt like a spectacular butterfly alighted in his hands when she gave him a please. It was beautiful, easily bruised, not long for this world. A callous remark, a refusal, would crush it. Only a monster would knowingly do such a thing. A few nights ago while cuddling on his couch, he'd told her that he was powerless against her when she said please.

He'd never crushed a butterfly. He wouldn't crush this one either. He hugged her tightly against him.

"It was my dad," he sighed. The tension flooded out of his body. Grace felt him go slack in her arms.

"Your dad?" she squinted up at him, cocking her head to one side. She didn't understand. He'd never mentioned his parents before. Their relationship was so new, they hadn't really talked about their families yet. She waited for him to elaborate.

He sighed heavily. It was the precursor to a long, long story. He took her hand and led her back to the main street.

"Let me buy you lunch, sweetie. Then I need to tell you something."

She nodded silently and let him lead the way.