Well well, so we made it past Zoe; it wasn't so bad, was it?
Now, how about we look a bit into how Cal is doing?
After their visit to the hospital straight from the airport, Zoe and Emily - Rudi in tow - had gone home for some rest and to get a few things Cal might have needed.
The following days, the routine was mostly the same: they would go to the hospital in the morning, keep him company as much as possible and then retreat in the afternoon. That was when Gillian would come around, after having spent the day at the office managing the workload generated by the combination of a suddenly increased popularity of the Group and being short of one the most important cogs in their machine. With news of Rodgriguez's indictment and what it was about, they had become a very hot ticket again; Cal's not so positive reputation from his last days at the Pentagon was being re-evaluated within that environment, and in turn the Group was on every government agency list of desired collaboration again. It was all good, also ironic, especially if one would have wanted to see it from Rodriguez's point of view: she had unleashed Warton on them because she didn't like the fact that suddenly their business was doing well again, and one of the consequences of her actions seemed to be their newly found booming popularity.
As dull as it might have been, the routine gave everybody a sense of normality, and for some of them, something to do and think about to keep the mind away from dangerous and painful thoughts. Gillian was the primary beneficiary of that, glad for the productive distraction for herself and because it provided her with something to talk about with Cal during their time together.
Something to take his mind off of things to.
It was an impressive double act, a carefully balanced illusion, even more impressive considering he could pull it off despite his conditions.
With Zoe and Emily, Cal was usually in good spirits, trying to downplay his injuries as they expected him to do and joking about the way the pain medication made him feel. Gillian knew that because they were usually still there when she would arrive, and Emily was always providing her with morning reports, usually going on about how good Cal had slept, how he was regaining strength and constantly complaining about hospital food. Cal was always - always - smiling at Emily and rolling his eyes at Zoe, trying to make Rudi uncomfortable any chance he got and overall acting like a child who doesn't want to stay in bed.
Then they would go home, saying good night to him lulled by the illusion that everything was grand, and she would come in right on time to deal with the fact that it really wasn't. The moment his daily visitors would leave, a different side of Cal emerged: silent, dark, brooding, torn apart by the many painful points in his body and haunted by the thoughts in his head. He was in a foul mood most of the time he was awake, he was in pain and disgusted with himself for how limited in even the simplest movement he was, and things didn't get much better at night when the nightmares came. With the others around, especially when Emily was in the room, Cal actively suppressed all of that and put up a very different facade: by the time Gillian arrived later in the day, when it was just the two of them and he was exhausted to pretend on top of everything else, things started to show through the cracks.
Gillian wasn't surprised nor took it personally. She knew he wasn't doing it intentionally, on the contrary she dared to assume that he would have stopped if he could have. As a psychologist, Gillian knew that it was all too normal for him to feel that way. He had been tortured - no need to dance around it - for an entire day by a man who had already attacked him twice, he was in pain and mostly likely didn't feel like his own body belonged to him anymore: frankly, Gillian would have been almost more worried if that ordeal had not left a mark on him.
Cal was traumatised, afraid of his own shadow. Sometimes Gillian caught him looking at the door behind her when she was at his bedside, his eyes wide in a sudden alerted panic as if he feared someone could come in and attack them. Not Warton, at least his brain had come to terms with the fact that the man was really dead, but he was seeing dangers and threats everywhere, endlessly haunted by fear. And then of course there was the pain, which was not endless and was bound to go eventually but still there, along with the frustration of being someone who could barely eat on his own.
With his family, Cal played along pretending that he liked to be served and assisted, saying it was about time he had some personal slaves; with her, he would push himself to do things on his own despite the pain only to face the ugly truth, and then deal with the painful consequences of hs stubborness.
Gillian knew all of that awaited her at the end of the day, but she was ready and willing to go through it all for him. For them. They hadn't really talked about it, about that unspoken beautiful thing that had grown between them at such a horrible time, and as far Gillian was concerned there was little to no use in addressing it until Cal would get better physically, and mentally above all. But she was going to be there for him in the meantime, to help if she could or simply to let him know he could feel whichever way he wanted when she was around. Gillian knew whatever was going on inside him was not against her, that the occasional snarky remark or hard look coming her way was not really meant for her.
However this knowledge, this understanding of him and of them, whereas somewhat comforting didn't make things any easier when he was in a mood such as the one of that evening. It had started on a good note, they had talked about work and she had update him on the finalised repair of the cube; apparently, words had gotten around of how well the structure had stood Warton's attack and the supplying company had received so many request because of that they were willing to fix it for free. It was a bit of an edgy piece of news to share, Cal could have easily felt not that flattered by the fact that their personal nightmare was becoming a successful case study, but Gillian knew him well enough and hadn't been surprised when he had suggested they should get a commission on any future contract they might get.
"I mean, you're the business savvy one love, but I think we should really look into this!"
"Does this mean I can expect you to be more involved in this side of the business from now on?"
The teasing question elicited a raised eyebrow and mumbles about always trying to make him do things he wasn't good at, to which Gillian chuckled softly in response. It always reassured her, when he would play along. She had had to find a balance of her own, a very delicate one: she never wanted to make light of the situation, she wanted him to be free to feel crappy around her…but she also needed Cal to understand that they had to start looking past it at some point.
That was why she had to try sometimes, poking him a little bit. It could be something as simple as a jab here or joke there, a piece of gossip from the office or some comments on Rudi, or something like playing into Cal's complaints about hospital food.
And that was when the troubles started. He would always get his assigned food from the hospital but that day Gillian had brought him his favourite sandwich, a greasy mess of bread, fish fingers, slices of tomatoes and brown sauce. Cal positively beamed at the sight of it when she took it out of the brown bag, staring at the sandwich resting on top of the small table across the bed and licking his lips like a hungry animal. It all seemed normal enough, eating the sandwich just a simple action bound to leave some stain on his hospital gown but overall nothing to it. But when he reached out for it, his hands still partially wrapped in the bandages around his wrists, a shooting pain went up his right arm and he lost the grip. Half of the sandwich dropped on the floor, with the rest flopping down on his lap before he tossed it away with a hasty gesture.
Gillian didn't hesitate, it was an automatic reaction and she motioned to bend down and pick up the discarded food, when a loud groan came from Cal. She looked up at him, knowing that his hard expression had little to do with the lost delicacy.
"I'm sorry," she said then, because despite everything at times she didn't know what was the appropriate thing to say.
"Don't do that, Foster." He roared softly, looking away from her as she went to throw the disassembled sandwich away. "It's just a bloody sandwich and you've done nothing wrong."
"Neither have you, Cal," she responded softly as she came back to him.
She stretched out her hand to take his, at least his fingers were free of bandages now and that contact felt a lot more natural, but Cal twitched his away from hers. Gillian looked at him, seated up against the headboard of the bed and stubbornly avoiding her gaze, but she could still easily see the dark shadows in his eyes. He had gone to that gloomy place again, where the violence was still happening and where he hadn't been able to look after himself or her as he would have wanted and expected of himself. Cal didn't want her to take her with him there, but he was in no condition to see that she was already there. Gillian knew all about that place, she had been there too years back after Ward, many times over the past days and still was, mostly at night when she was on her own with nobody to pretend she was ok for.
"I'm not going anywhere, Cal," she said then, leaving her hand next to his on his lap but without trying to touch it again.
"Maybe you should," he mumbled in response, his voice trembling as he added. "I don't want you to see me like this, Gillian."
She wasn't expecting that, she knew that was how he felt but she'd never imagined he would say it out loud. Voicing that feeling meant acknowledging it, the first step to solve a problem is to admit you have one and all that, but she had to thread carefully from then on. Gillian had no intention to leave him alone, that was out of the question, but she also didn't want Cal to think that she didn't take into consideration the way he felt.
"I know that, Cal," she said then, her voice soft and understanding. "I don't like seeing you like this either. But I'm here, whether you like it or not, precisely because you don't want me to. I can take it, better me than Emily."
Hearing his daughter's name pulled at him, Gillian was certain it would have. He closed his eyes and took a quick breath in, his neck ever so slightly turning toward her. It was a little opening, and she was going to keep working to widen the breach.
"Two days ago you couldn't sit up or eat solid food and look at you now. And I know they already lowered your medications. The injuries, the pain…we both know it will all go away eventually." His fingers blindly scouted the area around them, looking for her hand, and Gillian waited for that first contact to be made to carry on. "And I'll be here until that happens, I'll be there for that and for everything else. I know why you don't want me to see yo like this, but Cal," she moved her hand away from his and brought it up to the side of his face, gently caressing that little spot by his ear in the intimate and meaningful way that in a few days had become some sort of silent code between them, even though his body was no longer the minefield of injuries of a few days before. Then she smiled when he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, a strange shiver of anticipation running through her. "The reason why you don't want me to see you like this is the same reason why I am willing to get through this with you, for you. For us."
Short of declaring it, directly and out loud, Gillian had said everything he needed to hear. The actual words hadn't come yet, it might take a while and Cal knew it, but the power and meaning of the ones she had used was not lost on him. He was ok with Emily seeing him in his present conditions because he was hiding their full extent to her and because her presence motivated him in his recovery, and he knew that enough emotional distance had been put between him and Zoe for her to be less affected, especially when she had a nice caring man like Rudi at her side. With Gillian it was different. Cal knew that with her around he had let the darkness come to the surface, not because he cared less about her reaction but because he knew she was the one he could be himself with.
Cal knew there was a lot going on with him, a lot of bad things that needed fixing, but even in those troubled days the thought that she would come around to see him, that he didn't have to pretend he was ok when she was with him, had been a hopeful element to cling on. She was Gillian, his friend, she was quite possibly the only person who could understand what was going on around and inside him and likely felt the same most of the time, and for that he owed to her much more than what he was capable of grasping.
Perhaps the best thing he could do for her was to take the first step.
He enjoyed that seemingly awkward caress for a while longer, cheekily imagining a different part of her doing the same somewhere else on his body, then he opened his eyes and looked at her, turning around completely and resting his head on the pillow with a relaxed sigh.
"The doctors say I might be some kind of medical specimen, the way I am recovering," he said and Gillian rolled her eyes at his self bragging. "They think I might be able to go home in a week, maybe less."
"That sounds great Cal, and I'm not surprised." She chuckled, her hand now resting on his chest, no longer padded by gauzes underneath the gown. "You're too stubborn and proud, you're probably recovering at this record pace just out of spite."
"I like to think I'm just strong-willed," he smirked. "But stubborn and proud does fit the bill, love."
They smiled at each other then, wide and serene as it rarely happened during their encounters despite how good it made them feel. Then something else happened, something that had been happening more and more even when things got a little edgy. Eyes travelled down to lips, stealing glances and promises of things to be, imagining and wondering. Usually they would silently acknowledge that, the desire behind the gesture, and mutually move on postponing to more suitable times. But that time Cal held that look longer than Gillian, who eventually looked away but made sure he could see she was ok by holding the smile on her lips, then she pulled the chair closer to the bed and carefully put her head on his shoulder.
"They say I should talk to someone, before I get discharged." he said then, his words muffled as he rested his mouth on the side of her head. "The physical one is not the only recovery I have to look for. They think I could use some professional help- No, no Gillian." He kept her there when she motioned to move, a quick flinching movement of the hand holding hers and the gentle but firm pressure of his mouth on her head stopping her from pulling back and looking at him, silencing her offer because she could get it out. "I don't want it to be you, it can't be you. Wouldn't be fair nor good for either of us. Because I love you and you can't be what I need, not when I finally have the chance for us to be what I want us to be."
She didn't say a word, she didn't even move for a while and barely breathed. It was ridiculous because there was so much that she wanted to say and do, and being able to breathe would have certainly helped things along. Instead, after a while, she shifted her position and carefully laid her head on his chest, her hand leaving his to go around his hip to hold him in a claiming half hug as she listened to the calm pace of his heart beating for her.