TITLE: States of Mind
GENRE: Drama
CHARACTERS: Gillian, Cal, Emily, Torres, Loker, Wallowski
PAIRING: Cal/Gillian
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: None
WORDS: 6,400
SUMMARY: A journey through how they deal with the fallout. (Post 'Killer App' fic)
Virginia [think gray skies and heavy waves]
Eventually it comes down to one thing. Two things. Three things, maybe.
She tells her about the things that matter in life. That matter to her. She just sits there and listens, while she talks in a reassuring murmur and nods to herself from time to time, looking out towards the rough Atlantic sea he took her to. Why not a nice place, she had wondered, but he had probably wanted something nicer as well. It's just not how things always work out. They sometimes end up all wrong and unexpected, leaving scars and bruised memories.
"You know she's gone, don't you, love?" he asks gently while sitting down next to her.
Of course she knows that. She's not stupid, despite what his looks might be suggesting lately. "Yeah," she therefore says, but it comes out just as a rasping, tired sound.
"It wasn't your fault, love."
He really needs to stop the pep talk.
North Dakota [think white wherever you look]
Some of his best memories are desolate of some sort. Like hugging his mother for the last time on a cold, rainy day, or walking out of the Pentagon for good with not the least inkling of what to do next. He remembers meager landscapes of wars and not all of it is entirely bad.
He remembers being stuck in an epic snow storm on his way up to Canada, cold and close to the point of being frightened. Nothing but white, long, stretching roads with no other soul he ever encountered.
Sometimes he longs for it, and sometimes he doesn't.
New York [think water rushing down cold and untamable]
He finds her on the rooftop and what is there to hide? Not the tears, not the pain. It has been raining for days, or at least that's what it feels like, and she just watches the water being poured over the city.
"You ever been to Niagara Falls?" she wants to know from him.
"No," he answers, "too touristy for my taste."
"Well, there's a lot of water there, too. Never runs dry."
Hawaii [think warm and cozy sunshine embracing everything]
He doesn't know how to behave around her anymore. Everything he says could be the wrong thing, everything he does an insensitive lapse. Well, nothing of that is entirely new, because it basically describes him, but now is even less the time to be that person.
"Do you wanna take some time off?" he asks awkwardly while they are both reading the case notes Torres assembled for an important meeting in just half an hour.
"And go where?"
"I heard it's nice on Hawaii. Not that I would know anything about nice places."
She starts to smile. "You would hate it on Hawaii."
Yeah, he would.
Maryland [think white-washed picket fences]
She deliberately choses a therapist outside of the craziness that D.C. embodies too often and too strongly. Her car takes her there—through quiet suburban neighborhoods of the prettiest kind—but in her mind she feels an overwhelming resistance.
Talking isn't something she wants to do. Yet. Or maybe never. Not with anybody but her in the safety of her own head. Maybe him, but that's it.
Colorado [think mountains touching the sky]
Emily is constantly asking about how Gillian is doing, but what she really means to ask, is whether he has told her already. Of course not. How could he?
For him it is the equivalent of crossing the freakin' Rockies, only to find that maybe there is nothing but meager desert on the other side.
Nevada [think flashy, blinking lights]
They are asked back to Las Vegas to help with a case not long after that day and they really need the money. Damn it.
He promises a lot of things and he really has been trying hard lately. Too hard, if she's being honest, but for now she just can't bring herself tell him that yet.
"No funny business," he reassures her on the plane again.
"You realize you have a gambling problem, don't you?" she just says, because by now she really is quite sure that he does have one.
He takes it the wrong way, though. Not as concern of a friend, but as a reason to be snide and give her clipped, detached answers throughout all of the trip that follows. She doesn't know it any other way whenever they've been here or somewhere else with a poker table nearby. Yet she can't help being concerned about him.
Louisiana [think blues music floating in the air]
His office; as dark as his mood. She had chosen to ignore him in Vegas and close the distance again in Washington. Why— that is a question that always lingers so closely over their heads, but in nine years there haven't existed any precise answers. Just like their science never produces the precision a respectable scientist would demand.
When she comes in, it just takes the tiniest fragment of a second for her to adjust the steps she makes to the gentle beat of the music. She either wants it or it simply happens.
"I was just concerned," she explains sitting down. "And I didn't think we should go back to that place."
"I'm sorry." He means it, but really, there is nothing more to say.
"Yeah." She stares him down and he knows she can read him, even when he tries very hard to make it impossible for her. "You know, it wasn't your fault, either. Claire, I mean."
"Maybe." He doesn't shrug his shoulders.
Pennsylvania [think padded cells and lots of screaming]
Somebody from the state prison out in Wayne County is supplying Cal with regular news from the guy that killed Claire (she cannot use his name; not even in her head). She sees some of the reports lying on his desk from time to time, but he is eager to let them disappear whenever he notices her looking.
She knows Cal had a hand in getting the guy to Waymart and locked up in the psychiatric hospital there instead of just a normal offenders ward. He's never said anything, though, and she isn't quite sure whether she wants to know whatever strings he pulled and how exactly he did that.
He probably thinks he's doing something good for her (and she appreciates it, she really does), but to be honest, she couldn't care less what is happening to this guy.
West Virginia [think country roads and wooden huts]
They are losing cases because he is not at the top of his game. The numbers look bad and it has started to be a vicious circle of financial pressure, dwindling motivation and contracts that are never signed because of it.
When Torres scores a case in West Virginia and the two of them are crossing a small river whose surface is reflecting the dramatic struggle between the sun and the clouds, he is reminded of the past. They worked cases like this in the beginning—just Gillian and him somewhere in provincial backwater.
Torres clears her throat on the passenger seat and he can't wait to hear what she has to say. "I know it's been a tough couple of weeks, but we really need to snag this contract and bring in some money."
"Thank you for telling me something I already know."
She rolls her eyes. "Foster asked me to report back on you. Sometimes I hate being stuck between you two guys."
He just stares ahead and grabs the steering wheel a little harder.
Journey to be continued...