A/N: Been wanting to write this for a while, but didn't know how to start. Inspiration comes from "The girl's getting her ass beaten. Who cares about hair braiding?" Actually working on The Dawning Hour Again, so shouldn't be too long for a new chapter.
Ardeau
"Can I braid your hair?" Emily asks, standing just inside the door to Gillian's office.
She looks so young, brown curls curtaining round features and widened eyes. Gillian smiles, nodding and gesturing for Emily to approach. She shifts in her seat, her back facing the space next to her on the couch. Emily gives a little smile in return, moving into the room to sit up on her knees behind Gillian.
"He's gonna forgive you," Emily says, brushing through the golden brown strands with splayed fingers.
"Em," Her voice is so soft, so small, that Emily just wants to shut up, wants to let her hurt in peace.
"He will," she says, voice firm.
"Cal? Cal, I'm sorry. I never meant to... Lie to you."
She reaches out to touch him, but he jerks his arm back. Her stomach sinks, her eyes stinging with tears. He walks away from her, each step as loud as a gunshot and leaving a burning ache in her chest just the same.
She wraps her arms around herself, but it feels less like comfort and more like a cage.
Gillian sighs, her shoulders falling too far from their tensed position, leaning her forward slightly. Emily's fingers brush against her scalp in slow downwards strokes. Gillian straightens into the touch.
"You did what you had to do to protect yourself. He'll understand that," Emily says.
Gillian's eyes fall closed, her head dropping forward near imperceptibly. Emily tugs gently on a lock of hair in response, letting her know her reaction was felt. Emily divides the lock into three equal sections, beginning a French braid on the left side.
"I lied to him." The words come off of her in a shudder.
"Not about who you are, Gill," Emily continues plaiting.
Gillian snorts, her head shifting as she does so. Emily removes one hand from Gillian's hair to rest warmth momentarily against her cheek. Gillian smiles at the gesture, her cheek rising up and lifting Emily's hand with it.
"You're still our Gill, doesn't matter what your name is."
"Liliane," she says softly as Emily's fingers begin moving against her scalp again. "Ardeau."
Emily's ears perk up at the vaguely familiar accent, the drawing out of the 'i's into the sound of a long 'e', the softness of the 'd'. It's a milder and somewhat smoother version of the one she'd heard before, the one that had shattered so much just with a few inconvenient truths.
"That's a pretty name," Em says. "French?"
"Mmhmm," says Gillian. "My mom was from Quebec. My dad from the South of France."
"Ah," Emily says. She ties off the braid with the hair tie off of her wrist, beginning anew on the other side.
"I just wish... I just wish things had been different."
"Yeah," Emily agrees. "Yeah, you deserve more."
She looks helplessly between the two men, her eyes endless pools of blue ready to overflow. One stands tall and straight, only the salt-and-pepper appearance of his hair betraying his age. The other slumps, making himself look even smaller than usual.
"No," she squeaks when the older man takes a step towards her, her hand rising in a not-so-subtle gesture to stop.
She turns back towards Cal, her heart thundering.
"Just let me explain. I'll tell you everything," she says. "Please."
"You lied to me," he accuses, his finger stabbing at the air.
"I did," she gulps. "Yeah."
"Did I make trouble for you?" the other man asks.
"Go away," she says sharply. "I don't want to see you."
"I will come again," he says. "When you have talked together."
He walks out of the building in evenly measured steps. Gillian stares after him, even after he's gone. When she turns back to Cal, his expression has already gone stony.
Emily finishes the second braid with equal patience, nudging Gillian for another hairband. Gillian passes her own back. When all is secure, they both move to more comfortable positions, side by side. Emily slips her hand into Gillian's.
"How did he find you if you'd changed your name?" she asks.
"I don't know," Gillian says. "Only contact I've had in the last few years has been with my sister, Elodie."
Emily hums in response.
"You're like her," Gillian says. "You look like wide eyed innocence, but can be a little mischievous. You're childish, but somehow have the ability to comfort someone more than half your age. Yeah, you and Ellie are very alike."
"She sounds cool."
"She is. You'd make good friends."
Gillian smiles, a real one. Emily smiles back.
"Someday maybe."
She's standing alone in the entrance of the Lightman Group when Emily pokes her head out of the break room. She looks over Gillian for any sign of injury or distress, her eyebrows pulled up and together.
"I'm okay," Gillian says. "I'm just... I just need a minute."
Emily nods, merely reaching out a hand to touvh her arm as she passes by.
"Promise nothing will change even if everything changes?" She gestures between the two of them, then circles a finger in the air.
Gillian frowns. "Come here, Em."
Emily moves into the older woman's arms, leaning her head into Gillian's chest. Gillian brushes errant curls from Emily's face, her hand continuing to brush through her hair in repetitive strokes.
"I swear, whether or not your father still wants to marry me, you and I will never be less than we are now."
Emily's eyes widen. "You don't think he'd change his mind?"
"I'd understand," Gillian says. "One thing your father and I always had was trust. And if-"
"Don't Gillian."
"It's true," she huffs.
"It's not possible."
"Fine."
"Gill?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
She smiles. "You know I love you, too."
Gillian and Cal are laughing, walking the distance from his office to hers. His hand rests against the small of her back, not a guiding pressure, but a gentle warmth. They stop when the see the man standing at the front desk - both the walking and the laughing.
"Oy! Group's closed," Cal says.
Gillian blanches as the man steps out of shadow, his eyes intent on hers. She lets out a sound and Cal's hand drops from Gillian's figure.
"Lilou? That is you?"
She lets out a shuddering breath.
"The Group's closed," she repeats. "You can't be here."
"I am your father!"
She laughs, shaking her head. Cal's eyebrows shoot practically into his hairline as she responds in French.
"Tu n'es pas mon pére! Tu n'es pas!"
"I am. You will have respect for me!"
"The Group is closed. You can't be here," Gillian repeats.
Cal looks at her, watching the exchange, but too shocked to react. Gillian ignores the man completely, turning to Cal. Cal looks from her face to her ring to the man behind her. And she can already feel him slipping away, doubting her, wondering what else she's lied to him about. But there's nothing else. And this... Well, this never even felt like lying.
Gillian wakes to the gentle shaking of her shoulder. Night has fallen and the room is illuminated by just one lamp. She sighs, shifting further into sitting.
"Gill?"
She carefully lifts Emily's head from her chest, resting it against the back of the couch.
"Cal?"
"Yeah, it's me love."
She stands slowly, mustering all the courage she can. But, a nauseous feeling blooms in her throat.
"We should talk," she says. "I should explain."
"I get it, Gill."
Gillian meets his eyes, tears once again brimming in her eyes.
"Come here."
She steps closer, letting out a sigh as he vices her in his embrace. She buries her face into the bend of his neck, swallowing a sob.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I should have told you."
"No. No, I'm sorry."
"For what?"
He releases her from his hug, stepping back from her. He grasps both of her hands in both of his.
"For doubting you. For walking away. It's a pretty shitty thing to do to your future wife... If you'll still have me."
"If I'll still have you? I thought..."
"I trust you, Gill. It wasn't a malicious lie. It's just, he hurt you didn't he? Drunken fists and all that?"
She gives the slightest of nods.
"I get it," he says. "And I forgive you."
"Yeah?"
His grin is his answer.
"So what's Lilou short for, then? Lee Louann? Lee Lou Lou? Cindy Lou Who?"
Gillian laughs, mirth finally lighting her eyes.
"Liliane," she says, extending a hand. "Ardeau."
He shakes it. "And I'm Mr. Grinch. Nice to meet you."
