I know this is par for my course but once again I have to apologize for the delay in updating. Profusely. In all honesty I wrote the first page and then didn't look at it for two weeks because, as I've realized, I'm all for angst when the people angsting will eventually get their happy ending; not so much when someone gets screwed over in the process... I was tempted to just skip this chapter but while it's not essential it is important, and I wouldn't have been able to move forward in the story without it.
Because of the above I finished it up pretty quickly, kinda detached myself from it, so it's probably not up to standard. I hope you enjoy regardless.
Again, so sorry, and thanks for reading :)
Gail took her cell from her bag and turned it on before tossing both items onto the passenger seat. No sooner had she pulled into the street than the messages and texts started coming through. And kept coming. And coming… She was about to turn the damn thing off again (or throw it out the window) when the obnoxious chirping mercifully stopped and the car fell silent. Once she'd parked in front of their building she grudgingly picked it back up to find five texts from Chris, two from Dov, one from Andy, one from Sue (ugh), and twelve voicemail she'd have to listen to if she wanted to know who left them. Which she didn't. But it gave her an excuse to delay the inevitable, and at the moment cowardice was far more appealing than being mature.
She forced herself to listen to Chris' increasingly agitated messages, the tremor in his voice belying the harshness of his words. She followed along, stomach clenched with guilt and self-loathing, as he became more and more certain of why she was avoiding him, who she was with, and what they were doing. The only thing that saved her from a complete meltdown were the intermittent messages: one from her mother reminding her of a charity event they were supposed to attend together (almost impossible to get out of now that she'd be living under the same roof), a few from Traci and Andy (the warnings she'd never gotten but probably wouldn't have changed anything if she had), and one from Steve who'd caught wind of the I.A. investigation and wanted to know if there was anything he could do to help (which was really his way of saying 'told you so'). The last two were from Dov, and she deleted them as soon as she knew they were.
The texts were more detached, easier to deal with. Andy's was predictable, a recap of the message she'd left. Sue's 'we need to talk' was ominous but hardly at the top of Gail's list of priorities. Chris' were much like his voicemails. Except for the last one. That one read simply 'when are you coming home?' and it killed her that it was from only an hour before; killed her that everything she'd put him through and he was still there waiting. Biting her lip to keep it from trembling she opened Dov's, if only to distract herself so she wouldn't cry. Both were from that morning, both asking her to just let him know that she was okay. And all they did was make her feel even more contemptible and hopeless than she had before. Crossing her arms over the steering wheel Gail dropped her head onto them and took slow breaths until the urge to vomit passed.
She wanted to run. She wanted to forget Chris and Dov and work and just find her dad and beg him to hold her and stroke her hair and whisper 'Everything's going to be okay, Luscinia; Daddy promises…' like he used to do back when she was still young enough for her mother to not consider it coddling. Elaine's version of comfort was them casually sipping tea while she not-so-casually pointed out how Gail had undeniably brought whatever it was upon herself. When her first boyfriend had broken up with her Elaine's reaction had been 'well, what did you do?' which was particularly funny considering, as Gail later found out, Steve had pushed the boy to do it at their mother's bidding. And all because his father had a ten-year-old misdemeanour on his record that wouldn't reflect well on their family. Gail didn't need a crystal ball to know that her mother's response to this break-up would be 'I told you Craig was too nice for you' while secretly thinking 'good riddance, Okie from Muskogee…'
But one debilitating soul-crushing conversation at a time... Gail steeled herself and moved to the apartment on autopilot. Her key was in the lock before she thought better of it – she didn't want to give Chris any reason to think she was coming 'home' – then gave Mr. Jacobs a shaky smile when he came out of his apartment to find her knocking on her own door.
Chris wasn't surprised she hadn't just let herself in – despite the mouth on her she actually preferred making her points non-verbally – and he couldn't even be happy that she looked like hell. Instead he was worried about where she'd slept, if she'd slept, and if she'd even bothered eating. Usually the first sign (sometimes the only sign) she was upset was that her crazy appetite disappeared completely, the mere thought of food making her nauseous, and more than once he'd actually thought she was pregnant before he'd made the (disappointing) connection. "Gail, I…"
"Jesus, Chris," she cut him off wearily, still standing in the hallway, "at least let me in first…" Like she wanted the whole building knowing their business…
Embarrassed, Chris moved aside. "Right… sorry."
It was automatic for him, ever the pacifist, but she was the last person he should be apologizing to and it made her want to scream. Entering the apartment she took a calming breath before turning back to him. "Show me your hands."
Chris blinked. "What?"
"I want to see your hands," she repeated evenly. She would have just taken them but she didn't need to make it any harder than it already was.
He caught on when she held her own out palms down to demonstrate. Copying her stance he sighed, "We didn't fight, Gail…" They hadn't done anything, just looked at each other then went their separate ways.
She gave a relieved nod, the unblemished skin backing him up. "Are you okay?" Because she couldn't face him (or his answer) she walked away.
Following her to their… his… bedroom Chris scoffed, "Should I be? I don't even know what happened…" Somehow he'd gone from thinking about breaking up with her – thinking of threatening it at least – to her breaking up with him. And he'd spent the night wondering what he should have done differently.
"Remember the day we got together?" she posed quietly, kneeling to pull her suitcase from under the bed. When he didn't respond she specified, "The day creepy old pedo guy hit on you, not the day you almost got yourself killed by a squatter…" It was sad that those were the events that marked their days; even sadder that she'd had to specify.
Chris wasn't sure he wanted to have this conversation – expected her next words to be that it had been a mistake – and he only answered because she was obviously waiting for him to. "Yeah…"
As she started to empty her side of the closet Gail avoided his wary eyes, battling the tears already attempting to fill her own. "You told me I was mean and nagged me until I put my seat belt on…" Smiling wistfully at the memory she confessed, "I miss that us, Chris." It was true, what they said – at the end you did start thinking about the beginning…
Sitting on the bed Chris busied himself with folding her bunched clothes then putting them neatly back in the suitcase. After a minute of uncomfortable silence he supplied bitterly, "Before Dov." It wasn't them that had changed…
"Before we broke up," she corrected softly. As much as she'd love to hold Dov responsible the bulk of their problems had nothing to do with him at all. "Ever since we got back together it's like you're afraid to even breathe around me. And after the way I ended it the first time I don't blame you…" She couldn't blame him; not when she only encouraged him to feel that way.
Typical Gail – blame him with one sentence then turn around and say she didn't blame him in the next. But he knew she was blaming him, and he knew it was just an excuse. "You're acting like I never disagree with you…"
The wounded tone had her shaking her head. "I'm not talking about disagreeing with me, Chris; you're entitled to your opinion, no matter how wrong it is…" She let out an awkward sigh; even when she was trying to be nice she never quite managed. "I'm talking about standing up to me."
What the hell?" I stand up to you…" He didn't know if her goal was getting Dov off the hook or rationalizing her own actions but Chris wasn't going to just stand there (sit there) and let her make him out to be the bad guy. He couldn't believe she even had the nerve to try.
'Afraid to breathe' may have been a slight exaggeration but she wasn't making it up like he seemed to think she was. "Okay – when?"
"Uh…" Chris' hands paused their work as he thought about it. There wasn't really much he needed to stand up to her about– he was usually pretty laid-back. "…about the dog."
"You told me then fled the apartment," Gail recapped, unconvinced. "I gave in temporarily because you'd already agreed to take it until you found its people." There wasn't a doubt in her mind he'd wanted to keep it, or that he'd only looked so hard for the owners because she'd said no.
Okay, so she hadn't been thrilled about it but he had won her over; if they hadn't found the owners Tiny would've been the newest littlest member of the Deckstein household. "You changed your mind in the end …"
Not because of anything he'd done, though he didn't know that. And the fact that he hadn't even brought up getting another mutt meant he'd caved more than she had. "Try again."
Chris scoured his memory for an instance she wouldn't be able to minimize. "The quarantine…" She couldn't deny that one. He was actually pretty damn proud of that one.
He was right, but it made her point more than it did his. "We thought I was dying, Chris – breaking up wasn't exactly a big concern…" It wasn't a coincidence she'd never wanted him (loved him) more than she had in that moment; problem was those moments were depressingly few and far between.
Hiding how much the lack of credit hurt he bit the bullet and reminded her, "I put my foot down about Dov." He hadn't wanted to bring it up – had a feeling it had been the beginning of the end – but she'd left him no other choice.
Gail sighed, moving to the dresser. "No, you didn't; you passive-aggressively pushed him out. And I let you because I felt guilty." That's what guilt got her; if she hadn't let him they could have at least pretended things had gone back to normal. 'Fake it 'til you make it' as Traci would say.
It was pretty much an admission she'd done something wrong, at least more than she'd allowed up to now, but it hardly seemed important anymore. Chris just wanted things to go back to the way they were. With his girlfriend and his best friend. "Gail, that's not true…"
"Please," she scoffed half-heartedly, "If I'd told you to just get the hell over it you would have folded faster than Oliver with pocket sixes…" Just like he had when the Samuels thing had come out. Like he was now.
"You don't know that, Gail." Just because he chose to avoid conflict didn't mean he couldn't hold his own, and he was pretty sure that was one battle he wouldn't have backed down from. He hadn't backed down last night, though he was sure she'd find extenuating circumstances for that, too. "I am able to stand up for myself…"
Gail knew he could. With perps, witnesses, their friends, her mom. "But not with me; all I have to do is raise an eyebrow and you're clearing your throat and planning your escape." I'm just gonna go over…
"That's not fair," he argued hotly, "you do it on purpose!" She'd said as much so he didn't know why she was putting it on him now.
His tone setting her off she snapped, "That's my point!" She ran a shaky hand through her hair, realizing he probably wouldn't be so offended if she'd just led with that; in her defence she really hadn't thought he'd spend twenty minutes disputing what she knew for fact. "I wasn't kidding when I said our relationship is dysfunctional, Chris – we bring out each other's worst qualities. You feed my superiority complex and I… well, I'm your mother." From what she'd gathered Denise had been pretty much the same (more controlling, less bitchy) and he'd been smart enough to get rid of her, high school sweetheart or not.
Huh? He was glad she was taking responsibility (at least partially) but he didn't know what his mother had to do with anything – Gail had never even met her. "What are you talking about?"
It was on the tip of her tongue, what Ryan had told her, but in spite of everything Chris loved his mom and Gail couldn't take that away from him, too. "My personality is too strong for you – you need a girl who's going to keep you on your toes without riding roughshod over them." Way back when she'd thought that girl was Andy, actually.
If she thought she was being subtle in where this was headed she was wrong. "And you need Dov…" Because Dov called her on her shit, Dov wasn't intimidated by a glare, and Dov didn't let her 'ride roughshod' all over him (whatever the hell that meant). But Dov wasn't dating her, either, and Dov would find out that standing up to her wasn't so simple when it meant maybe losing her.
Gail didn't need anyone; she'd Survivored her way ten miles through the woods in the dark on her own, for Christ's sake. "This isn't about Dov. Forget Dov!"
Chris wished he could, but the timing was a little too convenient. "You didn't have a problem with our relationship being 'dysfunctional' before him, did you?"
Reluctantly, she revealed, "I did; I just didn't say anything." Finding out about Tina had changed the way Gail looked at their relationship – made her really look at it for the first time – and she hadn't liked what she'd seen. For a while she'd tried to be less domineering, offering to keep the dog, but he made it so hard because he made controlling him so easy. And now on top of controlling him she was betraying him, and she couldn't let him let her do that, too.
"But you're saying something now because of Dov…" Chris wasn't stupid enough to believe differently.
He wasn't wrong but Gail was trying to end their feud, not inflame it, so she went with a different truth. "Because I want better for you, Chris; someone who'll help you through your issues instead of take advantage of them. Someone who can give you her everything." Voice hoarse she added, "And that's not me…" She protected him from whatever she could – having to talk to Ryan, Samuels implicating him, her brother wanting to ruin his career – but turns out what he really needed protection from was her and her issues. She wasn't proud that it had taken her this long to realize it. "Can you go get me another bag?" she asked suddenly, turning so he couldn't see the wet tracks appearing on her cheeks.
Chris was confused by the non-sequitor but complied.
She managed to pull herself together by the time he got back. "Thanks."
While she tossed her makeup and jewellery in the box he'd found Chris leaned up against the wall to watch her in the mirror. "Were you ever?"
Gail blinked at his reflection. "Ever what?" She'd thought (hoped) the discussion was over; couldn't for the life of her remember what she'd said last. Blamed it on lack of sleep, not how emotionally charged and mentally unstable she was. Pecks didn't do emotional or unstable.
"The 'someone,'" he prompted softly. If she'd sent him out of the room to distract him into dropping it she'd failed; this was too important for him to just forget about.
The simple question threatened Gail's composure, and she struggled to wrap herself up in the cool demeanour that was her birthright. "Honestly? No. But because of me, not you." They'd jumped right into the physical – him to get over Denise, her to feel something other than the overwhelming weight on her shoulders – and the rest had come after. She'd never meant to fall for him (hadn't meant to fall for anyone) and she sure as hell hadn't been capable of the selflessness a real relationship required (still wasn't, obviously) much less the sensitivity he in particular needed. There was nothing about her that was good for him. Or anyone else for that matter. "But Chris, I don't regret being with you; I need you to know that."
Chris narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "Like you don't wish you were with Dov instead…" She said it wasn't about Dov but he just couldn't let it go; didn't know that he ever would.
"Not for a second," she promised without hesitation, facing him so he could see she was sincere. If he were smarter he'd wish she'd been with Dov instead; turn back time and save himself from the disaster that was her. The only thing she would change was how she'd ended it. Both times.
He believed her. He didn't know that he should, but he did. And it gave him hope. Pushing himself off the wall he reached out to her, whispering, "Gail, I love you." He didn't care that they were dysfunctional, or unhealthy. They were them, most of the time they were happy, and they could work on the rest.
Gail bit the inside of her lip so hard she tasted blood, but the tears didn't fall so she considered it a win. "I love you, too." Before she could give in she took a step back and forced herself to meet his eyes. "But sometimes love isn't enough, Chris. Sometimes it just makes it harder to do the right thing." God, she sounded like one of those quacks from daytime TV. She felt like she'd aged twenty years in the last two weeks.
Chris felt the hope shrivel and die. Crossing his arms over his chest he demanded, "Do you love Dov?"
"Chris, I'm not leaving you for Dov." She turned to finish packing up her things, away from the hurt he was radiating 'cause all she wanted to do was take it all away by taking it all back.
Shaking his head he bit off, "That wasn't the question, Gail." The least she could do was own up to it.
That he was standing up to her now, when they'd already broken up, wasn't lost on her. That he was doing it on the one thing she'd really rather he didn't was just salt in already extensive wound. "Yes," she admitted quietly. "But it's not more, Chris. It's not even better; it's just different." For very different reasons. "And it doesn't matter." New Division, new direction: backwards, to the 'no holds barred, take no prisoners, cold as ice' Gail Peck of old. She wouldn't do to someone else what she'd done to Chris; would never again let anyone get close enough that she could.
Of course it mattered; she was in love with someone else. "If you think I'm gonna give you my blessing…"
"I expect you to get on with your life," she interrupted harshly. "And to stop blaming Dov for something none of us could control. He's your best friend."
That was a cop-out and she knew it; his best friend wouldn't have made a play for his girlfriend. "He's not…"
"Chris…" Her tone held just a hint of menace, enough to halt his words, and she met his gaze unwaveringly. "This is me telling you to get the hell over it." That was her ending the conversation, before it could end her.
Author's note: After rereading this I realized that not once did Gail say she was sorry and I felt bad. I was going to go back and add it in but figured I'd written it that way for a reason: besides it not really being in her character (though she has been known to) I think she realizes that in this case especially apologies are useless. That this is bigger than any 'sorry' could make better...
