Thanks to my proof-reader, GDA. :)

Chapter 35

Lightman Residence, Washington DC

Emily Lightman shivered. The water coming out of the showerhead wasn't warm enough and she turned the lever to make it hotter, realizing only now that it was already at maximum heat. That even though she was still cold, the water was so hot the entire bathroom was clouded in a fog of steam.

She let it all wash over her until her skin turned red. Until her body finally warmed up.

Then she turned off the water, draped herself in a huge bath towel and sat on the rim of the bathtub, letting the remaining drops of water trail along her skin or drip down to the floor.

Her thoughts went back to the phone call she got from Gillian, because so much of what happened afterwards was nothing but a long, painful blur to her.

"He was shot."

"Your Dad's tough, Emily. He's going to be fine."

Except he wasn't going to be fine. No matter how reassuring Gillian had forced her voice to sound. As if she thought Emily wouldn't be able to hear the difference.

Emily hugged herself. Getting cold again.

She'd been cruel to Gillian at the hospital.

She'd acted like a brat who couldn't control her emotions. Part of her had wanted to call Gillian and tell her that. Wanted to apologize and let her know she hadn't meant it. Hadn't meant to hurt her. After all, she loved Gillian too. In her own right, not just because of her connection to her father.

But Emily couldn't bring herself to make the call because so much of the anger she'd unleashed on her earlier was still there.

It wasn't right. That her father was ready to die for someone who hadn't even forgiven him. It wasn't fair that he was ready to leave her life so that Gillian could live.

That was the part Emily couldn't reconcile with.

The notion the he loved Gillian so much he was willing to risk leaving his only daughter behind to save her.

And you don't even love him back...

"Stop it, stop it, stop it..." Emily started to cry. She was being irrational. She knew it. But she also knew that emotion was going to keep trumping reason tonight. Her father was impulsive. He leapt before he looked. Always did, always would. None of it was Foster's doing.

If he saw that Gillian was in danger, he'd do whatever he could to get her out of it. It was that simple. He wouldn't have thought about leaving his daughter behind in that moment.

No matter how much Emily wished he did.

She wiped away her tears.

She loved him so much. Her fierce, crazy, brilliant father. Imagining a life without him in it was something she'd never done before. Until tonight.

And now that she thought about it, she felt helpless, small and afraid.

Washington University Hospital, Washington DC

He woke up because something in his subconscious tugged at him. Relentlessly.

Nagging and tugging and pulling and telling him that something wasn't right.

Until finally, reluctantly, his eyelids fluttered open and he heard the whirring and beeping of the machines around him.

It frightened him because he had no idea what it meant. Because he had no idea where he was or how he got there. Panicked gripped him because there were parts of his body that he couldn't feel and his mouth felt like cotton; dry and disgusting and uncomfortable. Worse than the worst hang-over in the world. And he knew a thing or two about hangovers.

His eyes blinked faster. Focusing and rolling downwards, towards his body, noticing the IV lines in his arms. The plastic railings on the sides of his bed.

Hospital.

It was obvious now. That he was in a hospital.

Even his muddled brain, which was taking so much longer to register anything than he was used to, registered that much.

Drugs.

That was his next realization; that he was sedated. Or at least that's what they tried to do. Clearly unaware that his liberal experimentation with drugs in his younger days had built an admirable tolerance to anything with a sedative effect.

His thumb pressed a button on a tube near the railing of his bed. He hoped that would get someone to come running. If not he'd start pressing whatever other buttons he found.

Just that simple act of pressing the button and turning his head a little took so much out of him that it almost tempted him to give in to the effect of the drugs.

Not yet.

There were things he needed to know.

Cal groaned when he tried to move his body sideways and realized that his chest was tight and uncomfortable. That breathing was ridiculously painful and that there was something stuck in his side. A tube.

A nurse wearing blueberry-coloured scrubs entered the room. She was surprised to see him awake. He could see that, in spite of his foggy, uncooperative brain. Because reading people came as naturally to him as breathing.

Cognition intact. Good. No brain damage.

He saw the nurse check the monitors and the tubes he was connected to before looking at him again.

"I'm a little surprised to see you awake, Cal. Can you hear me?"

"Yeah..." he croaked. Damn his mouth was dry.

"Are you in any pain?"

"No...need to know." It's what he said. He wasn't sure that's what came out of his mouth.

"There's something you need now?" she questioned.

"Need to know," he repeated.

"You need to know something?"

It all came back to him now. The last few moments at Gillian's house. The expression on Hunter Kline's face just before he started firing.

Cal remembered jumping in front of him. Remembered that the sound of Gillian screaming was the last thing he heard. The memory sent chills down his spine even now. Along with a new kind of panic.

He also remembered the dream he had afterwards. Of Zoe and Emily standing here, next to him, looking down at him, their faces full of love and concern.

Except now he wondered if it really was a dream. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe they were here, in the hospital to see him. But why couldn't he remember Gillian? She would have been here too.

Would have been if she was alright.

"Need to know if Gillian's okay..." It took so much damn effort to say the words, Cal felt like grabbing the nurse and somehow willing her to understand him.

"What's okay?" She looked concerned and did something with his IV. "You shouldn't be making this kind of effort. Don't push yourself and try to talk."

For Christ's sake.

"The woman," he said it slowly, could hear his voice coming back and sounding a little less slurred. "Who was at the house, when I got shot...need to know...if she is okay."

Understanding finally dawned on the young woman's face. "The woman who was at the shooting with you? Yes, yes she's okay. She was at the hospital tonight."

Cal exhaled. Every breath felt like a stab with a knife. He wanted believe what the woman was saying. "Is she here? In the hospital?"

"No," the nurse told him. "They didn't admit her. Her injuries were minor."

Thank god.

Relief overwhelmed him and Cal closed his eyes, giving in to the fatigue for a moment after his panic subsided. He wondered why Gillian wasn't here then, to see him, if Zoe and Emily were. Then he decided it must've been a dream after all. Besides, it made no sense. Zoe was in Chicago. Yes. Chicago. It had been a dream then.

"You know, you really shouldn't be awake yet," the nurse told him, doing something with another one of his IVs. "This should help you fall back asleep."

He wanted to tell her not to bother. That once he'd stop fighting the effects of the drugs they'd already pumped into him, he'd drift back into oblivion.

But that would have required too much effort.

Lightman Residence, Washington DC

Later

Gillian knocked on the door, not surprised to see that it was Zoe who answered. Zoe who was still wearing the stylish two-piece suit she'd worn to the hospital.

"Gillian..."

Before Zoe could finish Gillian saw Moritz running towards her, pushing himself past Zoe to welcome her home, tail wagging furiously. The giant dog jumped on her and nearly knocked the wind out of her.

"Hey, big boy," she heard Zoe say. "Take it easy."

But Gillian threw her arms around him and let him lick her face on Cal's porch, not wanting to let go of him anymore than he wanted to let go of her. Even if the encounter was killing her bruised ribs. "It's okay, buddy. I love you too."

Zoe stood in the doorway watching them, until finally Moritz was done, jumping back into the house wondering why Gillian wasn't following him.

"I had a feeling he was your dog," Zoe told her. "Cal likes his dogs a little smaller. You know the kind that can sit on his lap when he's writing. Lap dogs."

The remark made Gillian smile. "You'd be surprised at how often Moritz manages to get on Cal's lap."

Zoe looked at her not saying anything.

Gillian wasn't sure what she expected from Cal's ex. Their relationship had always been one of forced civility for the sake of Cal. Although the last case they'd worked on together had served to kill most of their animosity.

She used to dislike Zoe, mostly for the effect she had on Cal's moods. And partly because Zoe liked to think Gillian had something to do with the demise of her marriage, when nothing could have been further from the truth.

But all that was a lifetime ago. For all she knew, Zoe Landau had remarried and was happy and the hold she had on Cal was long gone.

Animosity wasn't what she saw on the face of Cal's ex-wife now.

"I came to pick him up," Gillian explained. "His food is in the..."

"Gillian," Zoe cut her off. "It's late. Where are you gonna go with him?"

Gillian pointed to Wallowski's car in the driveway. "I'm going to stay with Sharon tonight."

"And then?"

It was a good question. Her own home was the last place she wanted to return to.

"You should stay here," Zoe told her. "You and the dog."

Gillian thought back to Emily's reaction at the hospital and shook her head. "No."

"This place is huge," Zoe added. "If we each take a bedroom, there's still one left for the dog. Besides...it's where Cal would want you to be. It's where you have been living lately, isn't it?"

"How...?" Gillian hadn't expected that. Didn't know quite how to react.

"I had a look around the house," Zoe explained. "Doesn't take a detective to figure it out."

"I..." Gillian didn't know what to say. Of course it made sense but this wasn't how she wanted others to find out. Especially Cal's ex-wife.

"Look..." Zoe cut in. "I think it's great. Honestly. Cal's loved you for a long time and I had feeling you felt the same way about him. God knows you both deserve a little happiness after everything that's happened this year."

Gillian had to fight back the tears that were threatening to pool in her eyes again. What kind of happiness was Cal spending the night in intensive care after getting shot three times?

"Cal and I we never..."

"You never did anything about it while we were still married," Zoe finished for her. "I know. Should've known it then too."

Gillian nodded. "It's the truth."

Zoe crossed her arms, shivering now, while Moritz tried to wriggle himself around her, wondering why they were both still standing on the porch. "It's freezing out here. Go tell Wallowski that you're staying here. Please."

"So Emily knows too?" she questioned. "About me and her father?"

"No," Zoe told her. "I don't think she was registering much of anything when she got home. I was gonna tell her when she got out of the shower, but maybe it's better if she heard if from you. Which reminds me...why haven't you told her?"

"We wanted to tell her tonight, in person, when we picked her up at the airport."

"I thought maybe that was the case."

Gillian debated it. "If she doesn't know, then don't...just leave it. Not tonight."

"Gillian!" She was looking exasperated now. "If you don't tell her, I will! For god' sake. She's got a right to know...especially now."

"She's dealt with a lot tonight."

"We all have! Especially you. Gillian, come on," Zoe's hand reached out to hers. "She'll figure it out the minute she starts thinking clearly. There's a tree and gifts for her from you under it. If she wasn't so out of it she would have realized there's no way her father would have put up those Christmas decorations either."

Gillian debated it as Moritz slinked around her legs. She wasn't ready to have this conversation with Emily. Not after what happened at the hospital.

"I'm going to tell Wallowski that you're staying here," Zoe announced, taking charge as she was accustomed to doing.

"Zoe..."

But Cal's ex had already slipped back into her heels and was already walking down the steps to the driveway, half running to avoid the rain. Gillian should have been the one to tell Wallowski but just the thought of walking to her car and back made her wince. The painkillers they'd given her at the hospital were starting to wear off and her body was letting her know it in a big way.

She put her purse down and leaned against the doorway, still uncertain about staying here, even though she wanted to. Truth was, no matter how kind Wallowski had been to her tonight, she hated the idea of staying with her. Would've insisted on a hotel room if not for the argument it would have caused.

It was raining harder now and Zoe was nearly soaked when she ran back underneath the porch.

"I think Wallowski was a little relieved about not taking home the dog," Zoe told her, putting her arm around Gillian's shoulder as she led them both through the doors of Cal's house. "Let's get inside."

It felt like home, Gillian thought when she slipped out of her heels and saw one of her coats hanging on the rack next to the door.

Then she saw Emily standing at the foot of the stairs, her long hair wet and her thin frame wrapped up in a thick bathrobe.

"Gillian?" Cal's daughter stared at her with stunned disbelief. "What are you doing here?"