Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: So, I know I implied that this chapter would be smut... and I even had half a chapter of smut written. But it's been a bleak, rainy kind of day... and this came much easier. I promise, I'll make it up to you. We're actually in a tornado warning right now... me and the fiance and the bunny are all hanging out in the bathroom (the only room in our apartment without a window). :)

CSIKathy... No tissues needed yet, I don't think.

Enjoy! Thanks for the reviews!

Chapter Ninety:

The flight left at five a.m. and we landed in San Francisco just after seven—we'd been slightly delayed due to the rain. Ayla was overtired and crabby because she was hungry, so despite our desire to hurry, we decided to stop in a restaurant in the airport for a quick bite. She was still a little grumpy and her head was bobbing while we walked, she was so tired, so while Gil waited to collect our surely rain-soaked luggage, I took Ayla into the ladies room to nurse for a few minutes. I'd hadn't necessarily been weaning her—I planned to switch to milk when she turned a year, but up until then I wanted her to keep nursing… but she just didn't seem to want it as often. It seemed like it was more of a comfort thing, and the day we had ahead of us, I could see where she might need a little comfort.

Hell, even I felt like the bonding time might be nice.

She fell asleep after maybe two minutes and I laid her against my shoulder, packed up the blanket I'd used to cover myself, and hurried out the door to find Gil. He had pulled off my large suitcase by the time I arrived and we were simply waiting on his—the rental car agency was providing us with a car seat, which certainly lightened the load. Once he had it, we moved over to the rental agency, and I sat with Ayla and the luggage while he dealt with the paperwork—he'd rented it in his name.

It seemed to take forever—when I had sat down the tall windows around me had simply shown a dark sky over a gray-tinted landscape and a light rain was pattering on the windows—by the time he came over to me, there was lightning streaking across the sky and though it was not raining any harder than it had been, the wind had picked up and it was lashing the gentle droplets into the window. I pulled the blanket out again, this time spreading it over Ayla, not wanting the chill of the rain to wake her up—she needed her sleep, because the funeral was over her regular nap time.

We had to walk, thankfully under mostly covered walkways, to a shuttle… which took us to the rental place, which did not have the cars covered. Once again, Gil left me sitting with Ayla and the luggage, insisting he would go get the car and bring it over for us so we could stay dry. When he drove the car around, he was wet from his curls to just below his shoulders… but the overhang didn't extend into the road, so he had to load the luggage into the trunk in the rain and then mess with Ayla's car seat with the lower half of his body sticking out of the car.

…He was absolutely drenched by the time he gestured that I should hurry around and get in and we would strap Ayla in from inside the car. I called our hotel, having already made arrangements to have a room that hadn't been rented out the previous night, because we would need a place to change, and they assured me that they had everything taken care of… so we went there first, even though the funeral was in several hours. Gil needed to change, and Ayla needed a little downtime before we faced Jace's family.

Thankfully, the hotel did have a drive through overhang, and by the time we were sliding the key card into the door to enter our hotel room, Gil's clothes were starting to dry out. I told him to take a hot shower and that I would get everything settled, and despite his inner gentleman telling him not to allow it, he was clearly cold and miserable… so he nodded and hurried in. I laid Ayla down in the center of the bed, covering her up with an extra blanket as the room was slightly chilly—they hadn't had the thermostat on as it was summer in San Francisco, but the rain had made the day rather bleak and cold.

I set up Gil's luggage on the luggage stand and pulled out his suit and dress shirt, hanging them over the bathroom door, hoping the steam would take out the few wrinkles and that I wouldn't find myself ironing—I had packed it as carefully as I could. Next, I set my own suitcase up on the chair in the corner of the room, pulling out the only black dress I had that could not be called a 'little black dress.' The fabric was lightweight enough that I wasn't worried about wrinkles, but I hung it just the same, and then pulled out Ayla's dress to hang—it was dark blue, and the only thing she had that would have been remotely appropriate… I hadn't had the time nor the presence of mind to go shopping in the wake of Jace's death.

Finally feeling like we were back on track, the rain having messed with my tightly-planned mental schedule of the day, I sighed and slipped out of my jeans and t-shirt, stepping into the shower with Gil. I hadn't planned to join him, but the rain was making this day even harder and the idea of being wrapped up in his arms under soothing, hot water was too hard to resist. I threw my schedule out the window then, taking advantage of the seemingly endless supply of hot water, and just let him hold me. …It was going to be a difficult day.

When we emerged, however, it became clear that we did need to get ready… I dried myself off in the bedroom area, letting Gil use the small bathroom first to trim his beard, brush his teeth again, and try to tame his unruly curls. Then, he went to dress while I dried my hair, tried my best to tame curls that made his seem gentle, and did my makeup. Gil was already dressed when I stepped out, and Ayla was stirring. It didn't even take the glance I shot at him to ask him to take her—he was already moving over to her, lifting her gently into his arms. He started to rock her and I took my clothing and left the room, turning out the lights, hoping she might slip back to sleep.

I closed the bathroom door and glanced at my reflection, and then turned to my dress. …The dress I was wearing to my husband's funeral. …In the last year, I had thought many things about Jace and I's relationship, guilt among them—I thought that perhaps if I had handled my attraction to Gil better, Jace might have dealt with it better. …Whether it was true or not, it had been a thought that plagued me. Still, in all those thoughts… imaginings… I had never, ever seen myself as a widow. I felt tears well and despite feeling that it would be better if I didn't, I looked up at my reflection. I was still clad in a towel, though my hair was dry and my makeup done. My eyes were red, giving away my emotion despite trying to blink it back.

I missed Jace.

And I felt guilty for it. I mean, I didn't miss him being controlling and I didn't miss fighting and I didn't miss feeling like a prisoner. I was aware of what our past entailed. …But I did miss the sweet man who would have gone to the ends of the earth for me. I missed the Jace who knew I was spiraling into a depression when I myself was unaware. I missed the Jace who hadn't been willing to give up on me, in the beginning. The Jace who made me see that the world wasn't black and white… the Jace who rescued me, and was my friend and lover and support system for years. …The Jace who might have called off the wedding and given me his blessing, if I'd told him I wanted to be with Gil before I married him… before we were pregnant.

I didn't want to be with him and I didn't regret loving Gil and I didn't condone his actions… but I loved the man. Not as a lover, anymore, but as more than a friend… and certainly not as a brother. But I knew the man's good heart and honest soul and I loved who he was, at his core. And I missed him.

I forced myself to sit on the edge of the tub and roll up my nylons, push my toe in, and draw them up my legs. I pushed myself to put on my underwear and my nursing bra and to put Gil's ring back on the chain around my neck for a few hours—he had expressed, on the plane, his guilt for asking me before we'd even buried my husband, and we'd decided it would be more respectful to Jace—and then carefully pulled the dress over my head, contorting awkwardly to avoid messing up my hair or getting deodorant lines on the black fabric. I zipped it, slipped into my heels, and braced my hands on the countertop, looking into the mirror.

I wasn't sure, exactly, what had led me to this moment. …How many infinitesimal little chances had contributed to the events of my life? Even if you didn't go back further than my arrival in San Francisco… Jace had found me on the side of the interstate just before his exit—had I broken down a mile later, we might never have met. …If I had listened to him and gotten a new car immediately, I might never have been attacked… and I might never have given him a chance. We might never have dated. …I didn't really do the bar scene, and neither did Gil… How strange was it that we had both ended up in the bar that night? And if I hadn't been selling a suck-for-a-buck, would I even have seen him? …If we hadn't known each other from the previous night, would we have even noticed each other at the conference?

How was it that we both ended up on the same cruise? And I was pregnant—it had seemed unlucky at the time, though I had certainly never regret having Ayla, but now it seemed… without her, would Gil and I have ever come back together? …Without her, would I remember the precise twist of Jace's lips when he was amused? …Would Jace be alive, if we'd never had her?

It was with surprise that I realized I had tears streaming down my face and I pulled several Kleenex from the in-counter hotel dispenser, wiping my eyes and blowing my nose and looking to see how much of my makeup I would have to redo. I was too young to be a widow. …I was wearing a nursing bra to my husband's funeral, for Christ's sake. Ayla was too young to have lost her father.

I forced composure, reapplied a little foundation and mascara—waterproof—and exited the bathroom. Ayla was awake and though Gil had changed her diaper and changed her into the dress I'd laid out, he had tried to pull her little white tights on the way you pull on pants… and it wasn't working so well for either of them. Ayla looked severely frustrated that she had woken up to endure this, and Gil was baffled as to how the damned things were supposed to work. I knelt on the floor in front of where he sat with Ayla in his lap, pulling the tights down and bunching them, sliding a foot in and pulling them past her knee and then repeating the process, before having her stand so I could pull them up around her diaper. Gil watched me in amazement, and I felt a small smile move over my face.

"You know… if you witness too many of these secrets, I might have to kill you." I joke, feeling the small smile to my core and desperately wanting to retain some of its warmth. He smirked.

"You know, until I understand how you manage to take one thing off while it's still under something else or what you do with that creepy scissors thing… I think I'm safe."

I frowned, and then, "…An eyelash curler?"

"Is that what it is? It looks dangerous."

I snorted a laugh, tugging Ayla's shoes over to where I was kneeling in front of him and lifting her to sit on his lap again so I could slide them over her feet and fasten them. Once I was done, I glanced up at him, and watched his eyes flicker over to the clock on the nightstand. I followed his gaze, and when I turned back, he was looking at me. "…Are you ready?"

I nodded slowly—we were meeting with Jace's family and going to the funeral en masse. I, of course, had tried to get out of it, but Jace's dad had insisted that we stick together, as a family… and made a point to clarify that Gil was part of the family too, and that Susan had promised to behave. …If we didn't leave now, we'd be late. I nodded again, swallowing hard. "Let me… grab my purse."

I pulled it from my suitcase and moved to the bathroom, filling it with tissues and double-checking my appearance and that the ring was tucked safely beneath my dress. Then, I picked up Ayla's diaper bag, going through it to be certain we had everything we would need, and slung it over my shoulder. Gil stood, Ayla on his hip, and slipped a room key into his pocket. I picked up the car keys and passed them to him, suggesting that we see if the hotel's for-your-convenience center had an umbrella we could buy… and we headed out.

As if it were any other day, and we were headed to any other place. …The normalcy of the moment was almost frightening, but I pushed it aside. I didn't have the time, today, to be concerned with how it ought to feel or how I wanted us to behave differently than most days. Today, not only was I a widow… I felt like one.