Disclaimer. – They are like little action figures that I don't own, but have the incisive need to play with. CBS owns them and no money is, was, or ever will be made from this.
I don't have a beta. So all mistakes are mine. I tried to keep them to a minimum. I, uh, hope.
This is a continuation to the story "Bonds". It takes place about two weeks after the kidnapping.
I suggest reading the other story first.
He stared up at the flecks of peeling paint, resting content for the moment. Sick leave was boring, but the quiet confines of his motel room was worse. The TV wasn't distracting enough and the only thing he could focus on was the dripping bathroom faucet. It was driving him nuts. Maintenance hadn't been up to fix it yet, telling him they would do it tomorrow every day this week.
The sounds of the bullpen were a familiar distraction. The soft click clack of the keyboards and the non distinct chit chat in the distance calmed him. The whirling of the printer and the ringing of the phones soothed him.
Jane tilted his head towards Rigsby.
The agent worked diligently at his desk, while nodding his head to the music that played through his headphones. Another agent, Garrison, approached and Rigsby pulled out an ear bud. They spent a moment talking about a file that Garrison held, then another moment talking about the music playing on the player.
Jane tilted his head towards Van Pelt.
She was mindlessly fidgeting with her engagement ring, while reading a cold case dossier at her desk.
"Hey Garrison?" Jane called to the agent who had just left Rigsby's desk.
"I'm just curious, was Rigsby listening to Katy Perry?"
"Wow. You have good hearing you can hear Rigsby's headphones all the way over here? Over all this noise? I didn't even know he was listening to them when I stopped to ask him a question."
"No, I can't hear it. The printers too loud. It gives off some interesting and sometimes soothing white noise."
"So, how did you know what he was listening to?"
"I would tell you, but it'll cost you."
"I'm not giving you any of my money."
"I don't want your money. I want the chips and soda your holding. I don't want to get up. Getting shot hurts."
"I would imagine." Garrison handed him the chips and drink. "So, how did you know?"
"I got a vibe."
"Like a psychic vibe? You bs-ing me? How did you know?"
"I caught a beat on him."
The young agent leaned in and grinned like he'd been told the secrets of the universe. "I knew it. You are psychic."
"He's in synch," Jane grinned.
"I get you. Your secret is safe with me." Garrison walked away.
Grace looked up from her file and stifled a laugh. Jane grinned, then tossed her the bag of chips. "He's an easy mark and you're going to skip lunch."
"How did you know?"
"Rigsby can't type with all ten digits." Jane held up three fingers on his hand. The same ones that were in a cast, an injury Rigsby received two weeks before. "He keeps the beat while typing and every once in a while will move his lips to the lyrics. He's listing to Katy Perry right now, One of the Boys. He listens to that album in it entirety. Right now he's on track six."
"I wasn't talking about Rigsby," she turned and watched the other agent lip sync the words to the song.
"I know," Jane glanced back at her and smirked, "but it'll cost you."
Rigsby stifled a yawn and noticed the two watching him. He glanced at them nervously.
"What?" Rigsby pulled the headphones from his ears.
"I'm glad your recovered from your ordeal relatively unscathed," said told the two after popping a chip in her mouth.
"A little worse for wear." Jane rubbed his leg a little and motioned with his bandaged arm. "The sunburn is a bitch, all that skin flaking. But I learned a lot about Rigsby there in the process."
"Really? Like what?" Grace slid her chair closer to Jane.
"A lot if intricate details of his sordid youth," Jane enticed.
"Sordid? Really," Grace said
"Hey. It wasn't sordid, well some of it anyway..." Rigsby defended.
"Wayne was teased and bullied a bit in school. Explains why he took offense when Bosco's team was calling him Bert," Jane continued.
"Jane..." Rigsby warned.
"Being bullied he often had to run to get away, he were prey. Now as a law enforcement agent, he is the hunter that's why he likes chasing people down. It's empowering as oppose to his younger days of bring powerless," Jane added.
"I see. You do like to chase people," Grace stood up and was going to head to the kitchen for a drink, but Jane tossed her the can of soda instead.
"I like the rush," Rigsby tried to justify his actions.
"Better than some other rushes, I suppose," Jane shrugged.
"Jane..." Rigsby warned again.
"Rigsby seeks approval for the authority figure in his life, be it his father, Uncle Lee or even Lisbon."
Rigsby stood up. "Stop analyzing me!"
Everyone in the bullpen stopped to watch the two.
"Easy. Jane will stop, right?" Grace soothed.
"What? Haven't you seen two people get into an argument before?" Jane asked all the gawkers.
"Sorry." Rigsby blushed, then let off a frustrated sigh. He walked over the the leather couch and took a seat next to Jane.
"You didn't deny it," Jane said.
"I don't need anyone's approval." Rigsby said.
"Don't avert your eyes or duck your head."
"You did." Jane mimicked the motion. "I told you, you do it ever so sightly. Speaking of which, today's ice cream is rocky road."
"Fine. Come on." Rigsby grabbed his suit jacket.
"Why are you buying him ice cream?" Grace asked.
"Lost a bet. I didn't technically lose, but it's fine," Rigsby grumbled.
"Would you like to join us for ice cream? He's buying. After we get some tacos. Chips isn't an appropriate lunch." Jane told Van Pelt.
"I don't know." Grace waned.
"You'll look stunning in that dress. Lisbon would make a good bridesmaid don't you think? Besides he's buying." Jane assured.
"I am not." Rigsby scoffed.
"You are. I'm a little short on funds being on leave and all." Jane told him.
"I got you," Grace offered.
"Fine. I got it," Rigsby grumbled.
"Okay." Van Pelt accepted. "Just give me a sec. I have to give this report to the Boss."
"Sure," Jane nodded. "We'll wait."
"What the hell? I thought we agreed to keep information to yourself," Rigsby paced in front of the couch and spoke in a hushed tone.
"I haven't said anything I haven't deduced before our little bonding experience. Did you find your uncle?"
"I wasn't looking for him."
"I have something that might help. In my top desk drawer."
Rigsby opened the desk drawer and pulled out an envelope with negatives.
"You had these? I thought the Marshals took them."
"They were in Lisbon's pocket before the Marshals found the photos. It's a little suspicious that Davis reacted that way don't you think?"
"How did you know what I was doing?"
"It's in the body language. You've been doing it a couple of nights a week."
"Are you ready guys?" Van Pelt returned.