She stares out the door when he closes it. She watches the dark blur that is the social worker walk down her porch steps. When she gets far enough away, she can see the pink blanket that covers the carseat in the social worker's hand. With every step, it hurts more and more. Then the social worker is gone and all her hope goes with her.
It's her baby. Her Sophie. The birth mother wasn't the one who warmed bottles, held her close against her chest as she suckled. The birth mother didn't burp Sophie or change diapers or rock the little girl to sleep. The birth mother didn't feel that little finger grasp hers in a vice-like grip. No, the birth mother refused to even hold her newborn baby. Gillian did all of that. She was the rightful mother here. And it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that this woman could take her baby away, this woman who had done absolutely nothing except give birth to a child she didn't want, who had promised Gillian a baby, a family, only to rip her away so harshly, only to go back on her word and leave Gillian feeling so profoundly empty that she didn't think she could ever be full again.
She doesn't know how long she stands there, just staring blankly out of the frosted glass of the window on her front door. But after what feels like an eternity, Alec comes into the room, wrapping his arms around her shoulders gently as he hugs her from behind. He turns her around in his arms, giving her lease to bury her face in his shoulder and grab on tight. When she slackens in his arms, he leads her to the couch, pulling her down.
He's gentle with her, as if she might break, and she's almost angry with him. She simply has so much rage inside her, she needs somewhere to let it out. Because she's not weak. She's not going to break. She hasn't even shed a single tear.
"It's okay, Gillian. It's better we don't talk about it," he says.
"You know all about what's best, yeah?" she asks, and the words sound even more jarring and sharp from such a delicate mouth.
Her lips are twisted in anger and her entire being is on edge. Somehow, he doesn't see the blanket of sadness that rests still amd unmoving underneath. He doesn't see her.
"It's your fault, Alec! If you had just..."
"What, Gill? What did I do?" he asks.
She pauses at the lack of outburst. She had wanted him to fight back, wanted to feel something other than pain and regret. But it wasn't his fault that he had a low sperm count or hers for having an inhospitable uterus. It wasn't either of their faults that the biological mother wanted her child back.
"I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. You did nothing wrong," she says quietly.
He nods his forgiveness and she sags the slightest bit in relief before straigtening again, straightening herself out of the slouch of a broken woman to pull some semblance of Gillian back into her.
"I'm sorry, Alec, for all of it," she says.
Her voice is even, but shy, and she looks down at her lap and picks at her fingernails. How can he not see what she really means? How can he not see that she's putting the blame all on herself?
"You didn't do anything," he tries to assure her.
But that's exactly what she's beating herself up for.
She doesn't want to put her troubles on him. When she goes into the office that Monday, dark circles still showing through from beneath her makeup, she hides her pain and anger and shame and just pretends. It feels good to pretend. She likes the power of it, likes that no one is going to blame her and hate her as much as she does herself. No one is even going to know.
And so she walks down the corridors like Gillian, head held high and a smile spread wide over her face as she collects her messages from Heidi and greets her staff. She pops into the break room to get a cup of coffee, laughing with their newest hire. Of course, the young intern doesn't see. No one does. No one will. Except Cal. But she has mountains of paperwork to get through. She can hole herself up in her office and not even see him. She can avoid him like the goddamn plague. It'd be doing him a favour anyway.
So she closes the door when she goes into her office and curses the fact that her office is a fishbowl that everyone can see straight into. And so, she keeps the tiniest hint of a smile on her face the whole day long and prays that no one sees straight into her.
It's not until the office clears out and she is neatly filing away the day's work that he comes to see her, knocking on the door before he enters.
"Hi," she says, giving him a smile so nearly genuine that for a moment she doesn't think he sees through it.
But he's Cal Lightman. He sees everything. And he blatantly reads her now, ignoring all the rules they've set up for exactly this reason.
"What's up, love?" he asks and she hates how he can just throw that one softened syllable at her and her guarding walls just crumble to the ground.
"I..." she can't finish her thought when it hadn't began to form in the first place.
She just doesn't know how to tell him, especially as she knows the feelings will pour out with the words and he'll see her in all her vulnerability.
She rises from her chair, moving around the desk so it can't stand between them, not when what she really needs is his nearness.
"Sophie... She's gone. They took her from me," she says, her voice strained and high and so desperately sad that even an untrained ear would hear it.
"Oh, Gillian," he says, moving closer to place a comforting hand on her shoulder.
She looks down and blinks furiously to keep the tears from falling.
"I just... We were so close, you know? Just three more days and she would've been...mine."
"If you need anythin'."
The offer is hardly out of his mouth before her mouth is on it, her warm palms cupping his stubbled cheeks. She pours her emotion into him, pressing her tongue into the cavern of his mouth. She could explore for days and still never find every treasure buried there. He tastes like spice and him and something inherently like hope. Then he's pushing her back from him and the space between them feels like an impenetrable wall and just...shit, she hadn't meant to do that.
"I'm sorry," she says, her hands moving up in her surprise at herself. "I'm just...sorry."
She's an idiot, she really is. She knows that this isn't what either of them need, especially not him, and it was incredibly selfish and stupid. He had just begun to feel better about his impending divorce. He was finally wearing clean shirts, even if they were more casual than before. He had finally begun to heal. And she had just... He didn't need that.
"Gill," he calls out, but she doesn't turn. She's already fleeing the room, leaving behind her coat and purse and that feeling of peace.
She can hear his footfalls before she sees him coming. As he moves within earshot, she begins to speak, not wanting him to see the emotions she just can't keep off her face.
"I didn't mean it, Cal. I wasn't thinking," she says, head hung down. "I shouldn't have done that and I'm sorry. I was just...feeling."
"I'm not upset. I understand," he says.
She half-turns towards him, a tiny smile adorning her face.
"Really?" she asks.
"Really," he replies.
Silence falls between them, but it's comforting to her.
"If you want to talk about it, I'm all ears," he tells her.
She nods, letting a few more moments of warm silence slip by. She's at ease with him, though. She knows he'll listen to her even if her husband won't. He'll fix her if he can.
"You know what it's like to have a child. You have Emily. And she's so... Well, I thought I'd get to have that too. I let myself love Sophie, even knowing that I might not get to keep her, but just hoping. I had so much hope. But, I'm thirty six and there are so many young couples looking to adopt. It's just...there's very little chance of getting another go. I don't get to have Sophie and I probably wont get to have a child at all. That's what's killing me," she tearfully admits.
He hugs her and she can feel herself heal just the slightest as he holds her against him.
"I can't make you a promise, yeah, but I think sometimes that the universe or you know, it just has this way about it. That if you're good, truly good, it'll... reward you, give you what you deserve."
She pulls back from him, wiping the tears from her face.
"Like karma?" she asks.
"Yeah, something like that."
She considers his words carefully before finally admitting to him what was truly bothering her most.
"You know, I didn't even try to fight it," she says, voice low.
"You shouldn't've had to, love. You shouldn't have had to."
She closes her eyes to the relief that courses through her. And somehow his words make everything a little better. But, it's still a niggling pain inside of her. They took her baby away and she didn't even put up a fight.
A/N: This is a two-shot. I typically hate when people base their posting on reviews, but lately I have been getting next to none. So when I get a few reviews, I will post the next part. If I don't, I will post it in a week. :)