A/N: This story is inspired by my favourite scene from a Kelli Williams movie. You can find the clip on YouTube under "Flowers for Algernon - Charlie Says Goodbye to Alice". It does spoil. If you want to kill your soul, follow with "Flowers for Algernon - part 11" from about 1:50. Anyways, I hope you enjoy. May seem OOC at first, but I think the explanation fits. You tell me!
What hurts most is that he doesn't even tell her goodbye. He just goes. He just goes and leaves her alone in his house, his bed, and doesn't even say goodbye.
She wakes to the sun slanting in through the big bay window, eyes cracking open slowly. She takes in the space and knows instantly where she is, but she doesn't even have to move to know he's not there with her. She can feel the emptiness of the room, the house. It's not much different than the emptiness of her heart at the realisation.
She sighs deeply, pulling back the dark sheets and gracefully leaving the bed. She plucks her bra from the carpet and snaps it behind her back and turns to search for the rest of her clothes. She finds her slacks and blouse and puts them on, forgoing the undergarment she can't seem to find.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. Last night was supposed to change things, supposed to make the two of them whole again. It was supposed to stop the hurt. They had shared proclamations of love. She had believed him. But, he just wanted her in his bed. Obviously that's all he wanted considering he left her there.
She descends the stairs into the kitchen and immediately notices the pink Post-It on the kitchen island. She peels it from the granite, her face scrunching up as she reads the words in his messy scrawl.
'I'm sorry, love'
She lets out a breath of air she didn't even know she was holding through her nose, eyes pressing closed as she does it. She blinks against the tears that want so badly to fall as she crushes the paper in her palm. She skirts the island, picking up her purse and rifling through it for her car keys.
Before she finds it, she hears a key in the door and feels an inexplicable rush of hope into her body. But, it's Emily's voice that calls out, not Cal's, and although Gillian loves the girl, she can't help but feel disappointed.
She blanks her face as best as she can and walks into the foyer to greet Emily. She smiles when the teen walks in.
"Hey Em. I came to look for your dad, but he's not here. I was just on my way out," she lies easily, although she can't help but flash sadness at the mention of Cal's absence.
Emily angles her body and tilts her head, clearly trying to read Gillian. All Gillian can think is 'she looks just like her father when she does that'.
"You okay, Gill?" she asks, genuine concern in the pull of her brows.
"Yeah. I just want to go home. I'll see you around, Em." She says, placing a hand on Emily's shoulder in goodbye before slipping her feet into her black pumps.
"Bye," Emily says, slightly confused by the woman's quick departure.
But Gillian turns a dazzling smile in her direction before closing the door behind her.
She goes home and draws a bath, hoping the warm water will ease the aches from last night and erase the memories of his touch from her body. And as she sinks chin-deep into the water, she finally, finally allows herself to cry.
"You are a complete jackass," Emily tells her father as he enters their living room near to dinner time.
"Am what I am, darling," he jokes, lifting his eyebrows in humour.
"I can't believe you. I just... I can't even," she says, getting up from the couch to offer him her discoveries.
She holds them up, the crumpled pink sticky note and the ziplock baggie containing a pair of women's intimates. She watches the colour drain from her father's face as he takes it all in, realises what exactly his daughter was on about this entire time.
"What're you doing with that?" he asks, his voice tightening with his anxiety.
"I saw Gillian today, Dad! And she looked... off, so I decided to investigate. I know what you did, Dad. You're a dickhead."
"Emily," he chastises, equal parts deperation and close-to-snapping temper.
She shuts her mouth, dropping both items on the coffee table. She stands and turns away from him, sighing deeply.
"It's Gill, Dad. She could never deserve what you've just done. And if you've driven her away, I don't know that I could forgive you."
With the words said, she hurries up the stairs and into her room, closing the door with just enough force to drive the dagger deeper into Cal's heart.
He sinks deeply into the couch cushions, dropping his head into his hands. He knows that he'll need a very strong drink to get through this night.
She is dreading going into work. It's been two days after she slept with Cal and awoke in an empty bed. She knows she looks a mess, she certainly feels that way. And she feels dirty and used and betrayed and she just doesn't want to face the man who could make her feel those things. And she just doesn't think she can keep the hurt off of her face.
She considers calling in sick, but then remembers she has the Davenport meeting and Cal would just butt heads with him, maybe even lose the profitable account, and she can't back out on the company like that. So, she swallows her pride (read shame) and gets dressed for the day in a red long sleeved blouse and a black pencil skirt.
She covers up the dark circles under her eyes and the lovebite on her throat, buttoning her shirt up the rest of the way for good measure. She picks up a pair of open toe black pumps to wear later and slips her feet into flats for driving before she sets off for the Lightman Group.
She arrives slightly late and very nervous, but tries her best to pull herself together. As she walks into the building, she thinks of Cal, but thankfully she doesn't see him. She manages to avoid him all day, busying herself with work outside the Group and mountains of paperwork in the office and never passing him in the halls.
It's only when she's fumbling for her keys in the car park that she hears him.
"Oy Foster!" he calls as he walks towards her.
Her heart stutters in her chest and she blinks desperately at the tears that come at his choice of greeting. Composing herself, she turns and slowly brings her eyes to his.
"Can we talk, love? I need to explain some things to you," he almost begs.
"Cal," she says, her voice a plea.
"Please, Gillian. I just need you to listen."
She presses her lips together and shakes her head, but sighs in resignation. Cal had hurt her, but he was still her best friend, still the closest thing to family she had. Just listening couldn't be that bad.
"Neutral territory," she acquiesces.
"Okay," he scratches his head. "How's that little place with the good coffee?"
"Yeah," she breathes. "That's okay. Just give me an hour and I'll meet you there."
He nods at her and turns to go, but his feet falter and he turns back to look at her. His face says what his voice isn't ready to, but she has already turned back to her car and doesn't see his expression.
"Hi," Gillian says as she approaches the corner table where Cal is sitting, just private enough for the coming conversation.
"Hey Foster."
Another surge of pain comes unbidden to Gillian along with more longing for the familiarity and love that she has felt in Cal's presence for so many years.
"Ordered you a coffee," he says, shoulders shrugging.
"Thank you," she replies, pulling her arms out of her sleeves and settling her peacoat on the back of her chair.
She sits down tentatively, shifting forward to reach for the cup in front of her.
"First thing, nothing I told you this last weekend was a lie."
"Right," she says sarcastically, stifling a snort.
"Just listen 'cause this is real to me, Gillian."
She gives him her full attention, raising her eyes to his and setting down her coffee cup.
"You're my best friend and you've helped me so much. You've helped me fix every problem I've made. Every time I've messed up, you've forgiven me. You helped me forgive myself for what happened with my mum. And I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. I mean that," he says.
"Then, I don't understand at all," Gillian replies, eyebrows furrowed.
"I don't want to hurt you," the words come in a quiet cloak of vulnerability.
"And I do, I know I do. I hurt you again and again and I hate that, but there's so much that I just can't keep myself from doing. I will disappoint you, I will hurt you, and you're going to forget that underneath all of that, I love you. The more love I give you, the more it'll hurt when I do something dangerous. And we both know I will. So, it's better we just... I just need you as my best friend, need you to stay, love."
"I don't-" Gillian begins to argue, struggling to bring her jaw back up from the ground.
"I know you don't agree, but I gotta do this. Can't hurt you more than I have to, can't make you walk away."
Gillian sighs, tears pricking at her eyes and a lump forming in her throat.
"This is what you want?" she asks, deep blue saucers staring into his green ones.
"It's all I can have, love," he replies, shrugging despite the sadness she can hear in the statement.
She takes in a breath, blinking desperately against tears.
"Okay," she breathes. "Okay, can I just ask you one thing?"
"Of course."
Her eyes drop to the table, to the creamed coffee gone cold in its mug.
"Is it me? Is it that you think I'm not strong enough or something?"
"God, Gillian, no. You're the strongest woman I know. I just love you way too much to let you get hurt. I love you way too much to let myself be the one to hurt you the most."
Her eyes slip shut, a few silent tears running down her face.
"You've already hurt me the most in saying that you love me, then saying that I can't have you, especially when you're the one of only two people I've ever let myself love so completely."
"I'm sorry, Gill. I'm so sorry."
She wipes at her eyes, taking in a steadying breath.
"I'll survive. I always do. I just- I have to go," she says, mustering a smile.
She gathers her coat and her bag and rushes out of the cafe without even a goodbye. Cal prays to a God he doesn't even believe in that Gillian hadn't felt as much pain in his leaving as he does in hers.
"Did you fix it?" Emily asks as soon as Cal walks in the door.
"I- I don't think so, love," he says, toeing off his shoes and coming further into the house.
"I was trying not to hurt her, but I think I did anyway."
Emily's face falls, but she covers it up as quick as she can.
"I know you tried, Dad. Best intentions and all that," Emily smiles.
She turns and begins to walk into the kitchen, casually turning her head over her shoulder to speak to her father.
"Besides, she loves you. She'll come around."
"I hope you're right, Emily," he says, following her into the kitchen.
"I know I am," she replies, wrapping her arms around her father and filling him with the safe familiarity of her love.