Thanks as always to, GDA. :)

Chapter 36

Lightman Residence, Washington DC

"Gillian? What are you doing here?"

Gillian shifted her weight a little, uncomfortable in every sense of the word. Exhaling and telling Zoe not to say anything with one wordless glance because she could see that the other woman was about to. This was hers to explain.

"Moritz," she told Emily Lightman in answer to her question. "He's my dog."

Let's start there.

"He is?"

The anger on the young woman's face was still there, even if it wasn't as vivid as it had been back at the hospital. Truth was, Gillian was angry too. Angry she hadn't been there when Cal woke up because of Emily's misguided resentment.

"Yeah, he is."

Silence. She'd tossed the ball back into Emily's court, daring her to draw the conclusion. The shrink in her told her to stop it, to be the adult in the room, but she was hurting too. Didn't give a damn right then.

Screw it. Put the pieces together, Em. Without me having to spell them out for you in front of your mother.

Because really, all she wanted was to lie down and close her eyes and pretend for a moment that tonight never happened.

"Then why is he here?"

This time she did close her eyes, patience finally running out. Seriously, Em?

"I've been staying here, with your father," she explained. "We've been...together these last few weeks. It's why..." she paused. "It's why he was on his way to my place tonight. We were going to pick you up from the airport together. We wanted to tell you in person."

More silence. That's what she got in return.

That and genuine surprise. That's what she saw on Emily's face now. Her lips were parted and her big, gorgeous eyes widened even further.

"So you and Dad... you're together? You're dating?" Emily questioned, her brows narrowing, unsure what to make of the announcement.

Gillian nodded, feeling the tears well up again. This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen. None of what happened tonight was supposed to happen the way it did. None of it.

"Em...why don't you go make us some tea?" Gillian heard Zoe's voice cutting the tension between them. "Gillian's not feeling so great right now."

Emily nodded, hugging herself as she fastened the belt on her bathrobe and left the living room. Walking towards the kitchen without another word.

"Come on." Gillian felt Zoe's hands on her shoulder. "Sit down."

Gillian dabbed at one of her tears with her thumb. It wasn't Zoe's kindness she wanted tonight. Or Wallowski's. It was Emily's. The one person she wasn't going to get it from.

"I shouldn't have stayed here," she realized out loud.

"Yes, you should. Give Em a minute to digest this, that's all. She's not herself tonight. You can't blame her for that. I know she didn't mean what she said."

Gillian nodded. Of course Zoe was right. The shrink in her knew it, even if she wasn't feeling it right now.

"Why don't you sit down?"

"I just want...to take a shower. Go to bed, if you don't mind. Will you let me know if you get any calls from the hospital?"

Zoe sighed. "Of course. If there's anything else you need, you tell me."

"I will." Gillian met her eyes and let her know she meant it.

Later

It was several long minutes later, when she stood in the bathroom upstairs, clothes shed, in front of the mirror, that she understood why everyone had eyed her with a mix of shock, pity and concern all night. One side of her face was marked with the outline of a hand in red from where Kline had slapped her so hard she'd nearly passed out.

Angry humiliation reddened her other cheek.

He'd left a mark on her for the whole world to see. Even a liberal application of make-up wouldn't hide it completely.

Gillian ran her fingers along the side of her face. The colour would change and darken, and she knew it would swell up, distorting her facial features for the next few days.

It looked worse than her other bruises, at least for now. But oddly enough, it hurt the least.

Gillian's hand moved lower, just below her heart, probing gently between her ribs. Aside from a bit of swelling, there's wasn't much to indicate how much it hurt underneath, from whatever damage Hunter Kline had done by shoving his knees into her. Just the slightest pressure made her wince. That one would make her every movement painful for the next few days.

Turning around a little, she spotted another large bruise just under her shoulders. That one wasfrom when he'd shoved her into the wall. Or maybe it was from her struggle to get his gun, ending up with her pushed down to the floor.

And then she turned off the lights and fought back fresh tears in the darkness. There were more, she could feel it. But she'd seen enough.

"Stop it," Gillian whispered to herself. Several hours ago she didn't think she was going to live to see the end of the night. Now Cal was alive and all she had to contend with were a few bruises.

It could have been so much worse.

Gillian's hands fumbled for the matchbook she knew was lying somewhere along the countertop and she lit one of the them when she found it in the darkness. Cal was the one who put three tea lights in the bathroom last week, during a bubble bath they took together. He'd jumped out of the bath dripping wet and came back to light them after she'd teased him that it was missing something.

"In the movies there's always wine, music and candles when the couple gets into a bath together."

"Sounds nice."

"Doesn't it?"

"Alright, let's do it."

And with that he'd leapt out of the bath, naked and wet and half covered in soap bubbles, splashing her face in the process.

"I meant for next time!"

He came back with two bottles of Corona and three tea lights that he lit with chattering teeth, before jumping back into the bath.

"So damn cold..."

In response, Gillian grabbed the sponge, soaked it and then squeezed it as she ran it along his chest first and then over shoulders, oozing the hot water out of it. Dipping it back into the hot water and then squeezing and pressing it against the contours of his body. Repeating the process until his goose bumps receded and his skin was warm and smooth against her fingertips again. Leaning in to kiss the back of his firm shoulders. It always surprised her a little, how lean and muscular he was, given that he never hit the gym. Maybe there was something to be said for the manic energy that never let him stand still for more than a few seconds.

"You're an idiot," she whispered into his ears, picking up one of the Coronas.

He'd laughed and clinked his beer bottle with hers. "Aye, aye."

"And really? Beer?"

"You try opening a bottle of wine naked, freezing and dripping wet."

She'd rolled her eyes and moved her sponge underneath the water, between his legs.

"Oi!" He grunted a little, twisting his neck as he leaned back into her. "Hope you know what you're doing down there."

"No clue. Wish me luck."

His fingers got a hold of hers, slipping between them and they guided her hands now. "Lemme show you..." He laughed again, taking her hands and the sponge not where she thought he'd take them, but along the inside of her thighs instead.

"Are you blushing?"

"No."

Of course she was. For reasons she couldn't explain.

After all they'd already done this past month, how could she? But the way the sponge trailed the inside of her thigh, the way he touched her...he still had that effect on her. Probably always would. Cal knew it of course and that shouldn't have surprised her but she still marvelled at it. How was it possible that he knew her so intimately? Saw as much as he did, when he wasn't even looking?

"I love that you are," he whispered into her ear.

Gillian leaned back too, lowering her body so that the water nearly came up to her shoulders and she listened to him tell her other things too, as he took the sponge from her hands and ran it along every intimate part of her. Lingering in slow, gentle circles whenever he sensed that she wanted him to.

It wasn't so much the things he whispered into her ears that night, but what she heard in his voice.

Love. Happiness. Desire. In all the years she'd known him, she'd never heard as much contentment in his voice as she did in the last two months.

That was the part of the memory that stuck to her now as she stared at the candles. Not the bath or the beer, or the candles or even the feel of his wet body against hers after they'd drained the bath, turned on the shower and had sex. Long, hard, intense and precariously positioned sex, that left them both exhausted and in need of another bath afterwards. A colder one this time.

What she remembered most was how the sound of Cal's voice changed when he was alone with her. Miniscule differences in timbre and inflection that only she would notice. She'd heard them before, on rare occasions, long before they were intimate, like that night in the hospital after Jenkins partner attacked her and the evening when Cal came to her house after a madman had held him hostage at the office, threatening to kill him unless she found his wife's killer. She'd heard it that afternoon at the police station too, after she'd interviewed Hunter Kline and Cal had moved into her space and helped her put on her coat.

But now she heard it all the time. His love for her.

And she couldn't imagine a world where she wouldn't be able to hear that anymore.

Part of her wanted to go to him, be with him, right now, so badly that it hurt.

He's going to be okay.

Gillian closed her eyes and repeated it, often enough to almost believe it.

Lightman Residence

Zoe Landau watched her daughter stare at the herbal tea in her giant Berkeley mug, unwilling to make eye contact. She looked so abjectly miserable, Zoe wished there was a way to turn back time. To go back to when her little girl was five years old. Back when Zoe knew that all she had to do to make things better was bake some bread pudding and put a Disney video in the DVD player. Lady and the Tramp. That one always did the trick.

It wouldn't do the trick tonight and that broke her heart.

The medium sized ham and cheese pizza she ordered earlier sat on the table untouched in its box.

"So Dad and Gillian are a couple," she mumbled. Zoe couldn't quite tell whether Emily was asking her or herself.

"You okay with that?"

She took her eyes off her tea and raised them to look at her. "I love Gillian."

Emily looked guilty right after she said it. As if her mother might take it the wrong way. "I mean...you know, as a friend."

Zoe reached across the table for her daughter's hand. "I know you love her. I'm glad you do because I know she loves you. Your Dad wouldn't have brought her into his life and into his home if she didn't."

Emily started to cry. "I didn't act like it tonight. I made her feel like I wished she'd been shot instead of Dad. I was so angry that it wasn't her...I wanted to punish her so I wouldn't let her see Dad at the hospital."

"Em..."

"Why didn't they tell me they were together?"

"Gillian said they were going to tell you tonight. Maybe they just wanted to tell you in person?"

Emily pondered the thought. "It shouldn't have mattered, should it? Shouldn't have made any difference. Gillian's been texting me all semester, helping me with school stuff whenever I asked her for help she did. But none of it mattered tonight."

Zoe didn't know what to say.

"Who does that?" Emily stared at her now. "And you know what? Part of me still wishes it was her instead of Dad! What kind of a horrible person am I?"

"Emily!" Zoe looked at her aghast. "Stop that! Your father almost died today. You're upset. You're allowed to be."

Emily was sobbing now. "If Dad knew he'd never forgive me."

"Oh Emily..." Zoe got up to put her arms around her daughter, wrapped her in a massive hug as her small body trembled against her. Zoe waited until she stopped, handed her a tissue when she did.

"What did I do?" Emily asked. Inconsolable.

"You made a mistake," Zoe told her. "You said some things in the heat of the moment that you didn't mean. That's all, Em. Wasn't the first and it won't be the last. But you do have to tell Gillian that."

"I can't."

"Yes you can."

"No, Mom, I can't..." she shook her head adamantly. "I can't and I don't want to."

"Em," she changed the tone of her voice, forcing her daughter to pay attention, no matter how painfully young she looked to Zoe right now. "I know you don't want to. But you're not a child anymore. You deal with your mistakes now, no matter how hard it is. Besides, if you really do love Gillian you owe her that much."

"She won't want to see me...I wouldn't want to see me..."

"Em..."

"Please...Mom, not tonight. I can't!"

"Yes, you can," Zoe moved to the kitchen counter and put the kettle back on. "I'm going to make some more tea and then you're gonna bring it to her. Because she needs to see you. Trust me."

Emily's upset face didn't say anything else, but she nodded in reluctant agreement, and it made Zoe proud.