For two days, she didn't really think about it. But now that the craziness has died down, it's on her mind. They had sex just that once (three days ago now). And even though it wasn't the best, mind blowing (hardly close to be honest)... she's thinking about it. She had sex with Cal. She, had sex, with Cal. There was kissing and touching and... actual sex. It's kind of... mind boggling, really. That she and Cal did it. Yep. She slept with her friend. Which, to be honest, is not something she's done before (obviously, she's not slept with Cal before). She's not been the kind of woman who has a friend with benefits. And besides all of that she has no idea how Cal feels about all of this (they've been extremely busy the last few days. She's been falling asleep on the couch right after dinner), because they haven't talked about it. And she hasn't attempted to pay attention to comments, gestures, glances; instances. But she's thinking about him now though (about what happened), and the feel of him (tentatively remembering). Even if it wasn't the greatest for her (in that way), it still kind of was. Because it was them. Because it was finally.

And she doesn't believe that was it.

But 'should she' or 'shouldn't she' makes her nervous. She's been busy setting up their new house (their now permanent residence, a different kind of nervous thought), so she's been distracted, but now that it's all stopped (the extremely tedious flight with a cramped up Cal, and unhelpful flight attendants; the car ride with a grumpy Cal, the hours of shopping with an exhausted Cal), she's back to thinking about Cal. Should she? He's lying on the couch now (staring at the wall, or reading; he does either) while she sort of maybe hides a little in the bedroom. The bedroom upstairs. There's just one on the second floor, with a bathroom, and another guestroom downstairs (and another bathroom) but Cal took one look at the stairs and passed, so he's set up down there and technically she's set up upstairs, but even though they haven't been... sleeping together... She didn't have the heart to sleep up there alone. She slept in Cal's bed with him.

And he didn't try anything.

Which makes her think maybe she shouldn't. She's not sure. The signals are hard to read. He was all over her that night (confident), but now there's little interaction besides bitching at her about most things (he's tried, his leg hurts, his leg is itchy, his leg is heavy, how much longer is this going to take? Do they really need to have the couch and curtains match?). Yes, they've been busy (they picked out an entire house in a day and then had to put it together; quick decisions) and yes they're trying to get used to a new situation (they're married in this life. Yeah. Married.), but she kind of thought after they finally had sex he might be... a bit more interested, or more overt about his affection than usual. A bit more Cal-like about it. (Note she said finally. Because she really did start to think they were just a matter of time for the two of them). She's seen him hanging off other women and he is not restrained about it at all (bulging-eyed cartoon character practically panting after them and floating a foot off the ground).

Which makes her think maybe it was just sex for him. Because surely he would have indicated by now if it was something more otherwise. Maybe it was just sex, and he got his rocks off, and he didn't notice (or say anything) about her not getting the same kind of enjoyment, because that wasn't really what he was aiming for (as in, he just wanted to get his leg over, so to speak, not start something with her). So maybe it really wasn't anything. But she can't quite believe that because, well, it's Cal, and even though she's only slept with him once, she's seen him with other women (wife and one-night-stands) and they certainly seem smitten enough to hang around (which means he really must be making them... enjoy being with him). They didn't seem to be complaining (and Zoe kept coming back for more even after they were long divorced). There must be something about him in the sack that makes these women want to try for a repeat performance. She really can't believe he'd be terrible in bed. He's too confident for that (unlike, say, Alec, who was always a little insecure).

And then she goes back to: maybe she should. Maybe she should be the one to make a move. Who says he has to do it? Maybe he's waiting for her. Maybe she hasn't shown enough interest, given enough of the right signals herself (she's been distracted. She might not have. It's feasible. Maybe he thinks she's not interested after all). But surely he knows? She catches herself staring at him sometimes. But maybe... She did get into bed with him the last two nights... but that was it. Ok so maybe she's being far too delicate. Maybe he's cautious (it is a big deal, considering their friendship/history). He didn't say anything but maybe he feels self-conscious or something about the fact that she didn't orgasm and he did (he'd really have to be a kind of selfish to not let that be a worry) and maybe she's being stupid. If she wants something, she should go after it, right? She's a grown up. She wants him. She doesn't need to hide in the bedroom moving around the scant amount of clothing she took with her from their temporary safe house (they were given money to set up the new house, and there is an allowance for clothing too; she just hasn't had a chance to go get some yet; she'll need work clothes. Can't bring herself to even ask Cal if he wants to go with her. Hasn't been able to face it yet).

Not that she has to go in there and jump his bones. She could just spend time with him. Talk to him. She doesn't have to hide (isn't afraid of him). Watching endless movies and reruns of old TV shows does her head in a little but... There are things to do, she supposes. She has a job interview the day after tomorrow (the marshals lined up a job for her too. She pretty much just has to show up and the job is hers). It's at a high school, as the new guidance counsellor, but it's been so long since she's done anything like that, that she may as well find out about the job description. Besides, she has to remember what her new name is (Smith. How original. They're allowed to keep their first names and she figures it's going to be tough enough as it is without also remembering to respond to a new salutation) and think up a plausible job history that doesn't involve eight years of working with Cal in deception, if she's asked (her qualifications and references are going to check out apparently, but it doesn't hurt to have an answer ready, in case someone asks her). She doesn't know what Cal's going to do. Nothing, probably, until his leg heals. But after that... she doesn't know. For now, she's going to be the breadwinner (she's ok with that, but is Cal ok with that? He's not overly chauvinistic, but, it's just that they've never been in this situation before. They haven't, and that might be worth a conversation.)

They have new phones, new laptops, new tablets; a lot of new things. Gillian picks up one of tablets from the dining room table (which is also a bombsite of paperwork right now; the legalities of new identities) and heads for the living room. The house is small but comfortable (and it's paid for) on the edge of Fairview, in Boulder, Colorado. The neighbourhood is quiet and yesterday there were visitors welcoming them to the street (they brought muffins and a casserole). Gillian's already forgotten their names. No one has come today (so far), probably because it's raining heavily, and she's kind of glad she doesn't have to put a smile on her face and make pleasant small talk; she feels overwhelmed by it all.

Cal is stretched out on the couch. His only requirement in furniture was that it wasn't a weird colour (which turned out, was more complex than it seemed. They settled on dark brown. Which was a compromise) and he could lie full length on (Gillian isn't sure if that's a normal requirement or a new one, now that he has a broken leg). When she comes in he bends his left knee to give her room to sit, even though his cast is still in the way. Gillian puts a cushion over his ankle and leans against it, and when he doesn't flinch away or grumble about her hurting him, she relaxes into the position a little more. She puts her feet up on the coffee table and balances the tablet on her thighs. She swipes a finger over the screen to wake it up and taps to bring up a web page. She looks up her new school, looks over the faculty, a campus map, a street address. She google maps the location, checks the travel time from the new house; saves the page for later. Then she brings up email. And then she stops. Checks herself. She can't sign in.

"What?" Cal asks.

Gillian turns to him, a half smile (he was watching her?). "I was about to check my mail."

Cal smirks a little. "I keep thinking I must've missed phone calls."

"Right?" Gillian asks him amused. "It's too quiet."

"For us, yeah." He stretches out his left leg again, and rests it in her lap, not an ounce of self-consciousness, like they sit this way all the time. Gillian's now sitting in the frame of his shins (she does not look at his groin) and she adjusts the tablet so it's resting on top of his leg. "What are you up to this afternoon?"

Gillian looks over at him. "Not sure. Why? Did you want something?" It looks like, for a second, that his face clouds, in anger or confusion, she's not exactly sure. But he shakes his head a little, tells her he was just asking. Which makes her think he wasn't 'just asking' at all. But he doesn't elaborate and she wonders what it was he was going to say or ask. She wonders why he seems to take a step forward, and then shies away again. Like them having sex. Big step forward... little steps backwards (until they're at the point where they were three days ago? Three years ago?).

"I did think about going to do some clothes shopping," she looks back to the tablet, decides to search for the local stores; saves her from having to work it out while she's also driving (they were given a car too, but Cal's still not allowed to drive).

"Oh yeah?" Now Cal is amused.

"Have to have something to wear to my interview."

"You nervous?"

Gillian shrugs. "Not really."

"Your shoulder tells me otherwise," Cal notes drolly.

Gillian tightens her mouth into a smile. "Maybe... It's going to be an adjustment."

This whole thing is an adjustment.

There's silence between them and they're both thinking about it; the possibility of their life now. Gillian figures there's no point in thinking about getting out of there; she needs to come around to the idea of forever. She can go back to counselling. She can play house like a pro. It doesn't seem as daunting or suffocating as she thought it might have been, now that she's here. And she's with Cal. He is at least a friendly face. He's not a stranger.

Gillian catches the tablet screen starting to fade and brings it back to life. She maps a path from their house to the mall (it's pretty straightforward, and not too far, so she commits it to memory. In her brain. Not on the tablet). "Do you want to come with me?"

"And watch you try on dresses?"

She supposes he's trying to be snide and offending, but it actually makes her feel squirmy inside; the idea of him seeing her naked (even though he didn't actually say that). Again. Seeing her naked, again. "Well," she counters. "Do you want me to get some things for you?"

Cal watches her for a moment, then pulls a thinking face. "Yeah maybe some socks and underwear." He sounds so casual as he speaks, like it's not a big deal at all. But then they both think about it (what does underwear relate to?) and he gets quiet and still. Gillian feels warm, hopes she isn't blushing and finds herself avoiding his eye; now she's not just thinking about his underwear. "Maybe I should come," Cal mumbles.

"Uh huh," Gillian agrees, leaning forward to put the tablet on the table. She drops her legs and Cal shifts his weight, so she goes with the momentum and gets up. "Then you can get whatever's comfortable."

Yep. Just made it worse.

She high tails it from the room, goes upstairs to change (she doesn't really need to, but it's a great distraction. Besides, if she's going to change in and out of clothes, she wants to wear something easy and comfortable. And she needs shoes). When she comes back down (in basically the same clothes anyway...) Cal is sitting up on the couch, his crutches nearby, ready to go by the look of it. They haven't done this before. Clothes shopping. (Or other domestic things, to be fair). He starts to get up so Gillian grabs keys and heads out, bringing the car down the drive, closer to the door. They haven't designated themselves keys yet; there's a house key and a car key each on two bare chains (stark reminders that this isn't their normal yet).

Gillian leans over to put the passenger seat right back as far as it will go. Even then, Cal has a hard time of hopping and shifting his weight, trying to swing his leg in. Gillian gets out to take his crutches and put them in the back seat and when she's back behind the wheel, she can tell his mood has plummeted. She'd offer to buy him a muffin, but those kinds of things don't make Cal smile (and she thinks, as she drives, that she's not sure she does know what makes him smile. If it's not work related.)

When they pull up at the mall, Gillian lets him out right by the door (no mobility parking for them) and retrieves his crutches. After she parks the car (a Ford Focus, so at least it's roomy) Gillian walks back to the entrance and finds Cal sitting inside the door in a complimentary store wheelchair, his broken leg stretched out on the raised leg rest. He gives her a little smirk when she approaches (and he looks sexy doing it), "Thought I should be comfortable."

"Suppose you expect me to push you around now too?"

"You do that now don't you?" Cal teases.

"Hey," Gillian protests on cue, walking behind him.

"Can't do it myself," he goes on, raises his broken arm and wiggles the fingers at her.

Gillian hoists her purse further onto her shoulder and gives the chair a shove forward.

PJ

Cal thinks he's going to be crazily bored and he's half regretting agreeing to go shopping with Gillian (aside from the spending time with her bit) but it's not nearly as painful as he thinks. Pointing out the underwear he wants while she reaches for it is almost amusing (because she seems so embarrassed. And he knows exactly why, but isn't sure what to do about it; make it easier for her or worse) and the fashion show of her trying on clothes is certainly pleasant to watch (a very good excuse for checking out her figure, especially because she blatantly asks for his opinion). And she's restrained. She makes quick decisions and picks out a dozen outfits easily (shoes are a bit more tricky) and several hours goes by quite painlessly. She buys him a muffin with a funny grin and he suspects there's something to it, but he hasn't figured out what yet.

It's not entirely easy, to be fair. There are moments (like with the underwear) when he thinks there's an awkwardness to them. They had sex three days ago, before they were completely uprooted (again) and moved clear across the country (again) to a house they didn't know, a city unfamiliar (another one). He thinks if they slow down for a second, Gillian might bring it up (the sex), but on the couch, when she was searching on the tablet, that would have been a good time for it (he was physically trapped there), and she didn't. She hasn't mentioned it at all, hasn't even dropped hints or started a conversation and Cal's not sure if he should be the one to go first. Maybe she's decided to completely ignore anything happened (maybe she regrets it). Which he... He doesn't know how he feels about that. Not great. But... He's not going to bring it up.

He's chicken.

When they get back to the house (their home), Gillian takes her bags upstairs. She moved in up there and even though Cal was desperate to go with her, the stairs would have been his undoing. And yet, to his relief, when it was bed time on the first night, even though she went upstairs to change and brush her teeth (and he was getting grumpy because he thought he was being abandoned again), she got into bed with him (it was a huge relief). Nothing happened though. They went to sleep. Gillian goes to sleep easily (quickly), while Cal is left to think about that night and what the hell he's going to do about it. He doesn't even have the courage to cuddle with her because turning onto his side is such an effort and whichever side he does lie on, his casts crush the unbroken parts of his body. But he wants to. And he has always been a fan of going after he wants.

It's just that it's Gillian.

It's not just sex, its feelings. And it's not that he's not sure about his feelings (he mostly is), it's just that he doesn't know how to tell her about them. He kind of needs Gillian to start, to go first, and he'll be in there, he'll tell her, but he doesn't want to go first (he's chicken. That's been mentioned right?). He's not sure how she feels and seeing as she's not talking about it, he's more nervous. The little hope he has feels vulnerable. His whole world feels like its teetering on the edge at the moment; too much uncertainty.

When Gillian comes back downstairs she offers to cook him dinner and he sits in the kitchen with her while she makes chicken and rice. It's raining heavily again and she comments about the timing. Because going out in the rain would have been doubly hard with his casts. They're tedious. And it hasn't taken long for them to get that way. They're heavy and pull on his body. Not to mention the water thing. And then there's the fact that he can't stand and help with dinner, can't go to Gillian when he wants to, can't hold her in bed, do things for her, romance her...

It does very much feel like she's waiting on him hand and foot.

By unspoken agreement, they watch the news. And it feels strange to suddenly let the outside world back in. There are floods in India and fires in Australia, and it seems as if nothing has changed. There's no big media blow out about their disappearance; the local advertisements are foreign. It suddenly occurs to Cal they're now in a completely different time zone to back home and he's not sure he can refer to home as home anymore. He takes the tablet from the coffee table where Gillian left it before and plays with it for a while, opening all the apps to see what they do (he's never really had a go on a tablet before) and then he finds himself snooping through the search history to see what Gillian was looking at before. He half expects clothing stores but he finds Boulder High School.

Oh.

Yeah.

She has a job to go to. Or a job interview, in the very least. Though Cal suspects if the marshals really were the life miracle workers that they seemed to be, the job was practically hers anyway and the interview tomorrow was just a formality. Cal had forgotten about that. And he also remembers: they're married. Sort of. They're legally... 'bound'. As in, the house is in both of their names, the car is in both of their names and they have a joint bank account (Gillian will work and Cal gets a stipend until he can work and it looks like it will be enough to live on. The house and car are paid for; part of their compensation for being the state's witnesses). Legally, they now have the same last name and all that is missing is a ring on their fingers and a marriage certificate. He's not sure how it works (but the marshals went ahead when neither he nor Gillian contacted them about a plan. He's not sure if they just assumed, or whether they wanted to keep them together). He figures by all outwards appearances they're married and meant to look married, but he hasn't asked Gillian how she feels about it, what she makes of it; whether she's going to tell people she's married. If she wants to be married.

(That makes him feel throat dry, nauseous, with his balls all shrivelled up. Married to him.)

Why doesn't she bring it up? Isn't conversation and feelings her department? She's going to be a high school counsellor. Therapist is literally everything she's about.

Cal snoops through the Boulder High School website, having a look at the faculty and upcoming events. Then he takes a good long look at the counselling staff and some of the programmes the school runs in regards to the development of their students. It actually looks like a pretty good school (he'd be ok with sending Emily there. If it was... oh about five years ago). And their mascot is a panther, which is pretty cool. From the windows on the west side of the house, it's possible to see the Flatirons in the not so distant distance; those big table top mountains that border Boulder. Cal wonders if there are panthers there. Or mountain lions. And bears. Oh my.

The tablet comes with preinstalled games. He tries out a few, finds them frustrating. Then realises they've been sitting in silence for a really long time. He dips the tablet to look at Gillian. He's completely lost track of the time or what's on TV. She looks over at him when she senses him watching and gives a slight smile. "Ok?"

"Yep," he agrees. He's bored. And this is only going to get worse. He's going to need something to do; especially when Gillian goes to work. He's never been a stay at home anything and has no idea how he's going to cope with it. It wouldn't be as bad if he were able bodied and could go and do something, meet people, get a job himself (doing he doesn't know what; anything at this point. He's bored).

"Are you watching this?" Gillian asks after a few minutes.

Cal has been staring at the wall, daydreaming about jobs (what he might have done if he hadn't done a doctorate in lies; how what he does know about lies incorporates into an everyday job, like sales, ugh, or, as a TSA agent. Heh.) "No," he answers her.

"Wanna go to bed?" She asks it softly, carefully.

Cal meets her eyes. Does that mean bed to sleep or bed to have sex? He wonders what time it is. If it's early, she means sex. If it's late, then she probably just means going to sleep. She does have a job interview tomorrow. Ok, maybe even if it's early she means to go to sleep, because she has a job interview tomorrow. "Sure," Cal agrees (he's got nothing better to do).

Gillian gets up, hovers a little, but ultimately leaves him to get up on his own. He's glad for it, because he really is like an uncoordinated baby giraffe who has fallen on its back. He twists and manoeuvres and then has to shove his body weight up while relying on one hand; and it's really better that Gillian doesn't see that (or anyone, for that matter). When Cal finally makes his way down the short hallway to his bedroom, he notices Gillian isn't there. She might be in the bathroom across the hall though, so he works on taking his clothes off and throws back the covers and bounces himself onto the mattress. It takes effort to shift his broken leg into place. Not only is the cast heavy, but it's actually painful to put pressure on it, even if that pressure is lifting upwards, and not pressing downwards (but, he does concede, the pain is less than it was a week ago. More of a nuisance really). When he's settled, back resting up against the pillows and headboard, he's breathing heavier than normal (and he hasn't even lain down yet...).

And then Gillian comes in.

She's in a loose t-shirt and she doesn't immediately beeline across the room and run towards him, but she does approach without detour. He reaches up for her, can't help it, his hands a mind of their own and she grabs onto him as she kneels one leg on the mattress so she can swing the other over his body and straddle his thighs. She slips a condom into his left palm (so she found them when she put the groceries away then. He slipped them into the cart), the rough edges blatant against his skin, as she leans in to kiss him.

No doubt about this then.

Cal's stomach flips hard and he kisses her back carefully at first, half afraid that if he's too keen, it might scare her off. She frees her left hand from his right, pushing down on her knees so that she rises up above him (and he doesn't have to strain forward to reach her), curling that free hand around the edge of his neck and into his hair; she makes the kiss deeper. Cal feels blindly with his right hand, crushing his fingers against her side until he orientates her hip. He grabs her shirt, works his way under it to bare skin. He forgets himself, the pressure of her lips and the curl of her fingers, and brushes his palm against her waist. He forgets the cast completely until she flinches away from him. Hard.

"Sorry," he murmurs as her mouth pulls from his. He tries to follow her, doesn't want to lose contact. Gillian moves back far enough to give a brief smile and then she shifts closer again. A lot closer. She moves her body up, so she's just about in his lap. She kisses him again, her hands sliding around his neck, down the front of his bare chest. Condom in one hand, cast in the other, Cal feels a little helpless. And it's not just that his hands are full. With his leg, he can't take much control of position or pace. He takes the lead from Gillian. When she kisses, he kisses. When she breaks away, he tries to reach for as much of her as he can (jaw or neck, she does give him chances). He tries again with the fingers of his broken arm, brushing the tips against her skin, reminding himself not to grab, to not try and engage his palm which is encased in plaster. He thinks he does a better job of it than last time (there's less flinching and much more moaning. Moaning is good. He doesn't remember if there was moaning last time. He doesn't think there was, now that he thinks about it).

Gillian takes her own shirt off and it's heavenly. Her skin is smooth and soft and freckly. Cal remembers to use his fingertips as he traces around the edges of her body, exploring and memorising, feeling his way when he closes his eyes as she kisses him. He feels a bit like a gimp, holding onto the condom, but if he puts it down (or somewhere) he worries he might not find it again (and that would be embarrassing). But putting it on can be awkward too. If he does it too soon, then she might think that's all he's after. And if he leaves it too late, that might give the impression he's not really interested.

He takes his cue from Gillian. After shirt removal and more kissing, she explores his body. The first time they did this... It wasn't like this. This is more intimate and Cal actually feels more nervous, like he's not sure what he should be doing. She's the one that pulls back his underwear (turns out, she's not wearing any at all), uses her mouth on him a bit (fucking jesus), then takes his hand. She takes the condom back, and for a second Cal thinks she's going to do it herself, but she just opens it, gives it back to him, makes him do it. And then when he's ready she moves so she's over him. The anticipation is incredible and with his free hand he finally realises he can touch her. He smoothes up her thigh, watches her face for reaction (it's not bad) and guides her hip as she comes down gently on top of him.

If the world hadn't tipped on its axis right after the first time they'd had sex (having to leave the safe house. His world did also tip on its axis because they had sex), Cal figures he would have spent much more time thinking about it. This time, he doesn't quite remember the order of things, if Gillian sets the same rhythm and tempo as before. He remembers last time as amazing and this time just as damn good. It's more Gillian than him. He knows that. He's broken. Literally. And that constricts him. But Gillian makes it incredible. She is incredible. He knows that. But this, sex, it makes him feel it more. They're closer, intimate, together, all those things and when it's over, and she moves away from him, and he can't turn to hold her tightly, that's what disappoints him the most. He doesn't just want it to be a physical thing. He wants all the intimacy that goes with sleeping with his best friend.

Because he loves her.

PJ

Cal wakes to an obnoxious electrical claxon. It takes a second to realise it's an alarm. It takes longer to realise where it's coming from, and by the time he's come to, Gillian is already reaching over to turn it off. Cal wonders 'what the hell' as he reaches out a hand for her. She sleeps on his right side, where all the plaster encases his limbs, but he's learning to use his finger tips, and brushes them against her bare lower back. She turns towards him, her face bleary through his sleepy eyes, but he can still tell she's barely awake herself. She comes in close, squishing his fingers against her stomach as she presses against his chest. She rests her head on the pillow next to his, her forehead against his ear. Cal closes his eyes, feels his heart rate start to settle a little and relaxes.

It's still dark, so it's early. He wonders how early. He wonders why Gillian set an alarm; it's not like they have anywhere to go. His foot is itchy. The one under the plaster. Of course it is. The foot is the worst. He can't bend his knee to bring it closer to his body. He tries wiggling his toes. He's not sure if that helps the itch, but he also pushed down on his leg so the pain distracts him for a while. It's been a week now, in plaster. One week down, five to go. It's been a long week. The next five are going to go slowly. And not just because he's in plaster. He really doesn't know what to do with himself. Stuck around the house all day. Bored out of his tree. He could build a tree house. Maybe when the weather gets a bit warmer.

Wait. Gillian does have somewhere to go. Job interview. That's this morning. Cal forces his eyes open, feels the dreamy sleep falling away in sharp stages, making his brain feel tingly. He sits up a little, resting on his elbows; Gillian is gone. And the room is lighter. He looks over at the time. It's after ten.

Cal sits still for a moment, surprised. He fully went back to sleep. And he slept right through Gillian leaving. He didn't get to wish her good luck. Cal throws back the covers, manoeuvres himself out of bed, and hops it across the room to the bathroom. Then he hops down the hall to the living room, looking for his new phone. The thing is huge. He remembers when cell phones were bricks (he didn't have one though) and got progressively smaller. Then they started getting bigger again (although flatter. Size of a brick but not nearly as cumbersome). There are no messages (why would there be? no one but Gillian and the marshals have this number). Cal sits heavily on the couch, still in his underwear (pushed aside last night, not removed entirely. Too much work getting them down over his cast), and pulls up the text menu. He taps out a message to Gillian, going with 'Howd it go?' instead of a belated 'good luck' (he feels badly for missing it though). He can't remember what time the interview was. Nine, he thinks. So it might be over by now. Who has an interview for more than an hour?

There's no immediate response so Cal puts his phone down again. Then he picks it up and checks that the volume is up on the messages (because he hasn't actually checked before now). It is. He plays with the ringtones, wastes time. When he's getting dressed a message comes through. It's from Gillian: good. Be home soon. There are smiley emoticons. Cal figures she's pretty happy about it (the interview? Or that he text her?). She doesn't tend to send emoticons otherwise. He's not sure they've gone much beyond polite business texts. Occasional friendly texts but... that was before they started sleeping together.

Soon means half an hour. And Cal is getting antsy about it. She said soon. She should have said half an hour if she was going to be half an hour. He gets up to stand in the window and watch the street. He spots their neighbours across the road taking groceries out of the back of an SUV, remembers they brought food over. Maybe he should go say thanks. Make friends. See what their deal is. It's something to do.

It'd just be something to do.

But Gillian pulls into their driveway and Cal watches her from the window instead. She looks nice. Dress, shoes, hair and make-up done. She looks like the classy, attractive woman he remembers from DC. Not the fire scarred, damaged woman coughing up blood. Hard to believe that that was only a handful of days ago. It feels like so much longer. When Gillian heads for the front door (she's got shopping bags in her hand. So she went shopping. She could have just said she was going shopping, instead of making him wait) Cal hops his way back to the couch. He picks up the tablet, pretends to be engrossed in one of the games preloaded (he doesn't get the game though. Can't figure out how to make the little character leap far enough over that pit and not impale itself).

"Hi," Gillian greets brightly from the door.

"Hey," Cal answers distractedly. Purposefully nonchalant. He hears the rustle of plastic coming closer, the pointed thud of her heels on the carpet.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Cal drops the tablet to his lap so she can't see the screen over his shoulder. He looks up at her, catches a flicker of something (disappointment maybe?) before she gives him a smile. Damn, she really does look good. Excitement makes Gillian attractive; that bright easiness about her. He feels it drawing him in and it makes him want to hug her, get physically closer to her, kiss it out of her so he can have some.

"Are you hungry?" She raises the plastic bag. "I brought lunch."

Cal blinks for a second. "It's not even eleven," he answers (actually, by now, it might be).

"So?" Gillian smiles again and turns on her heel, heading for the kitchen.

Cal shifts his ass to the edge of the couch and shoves himself up using the arm of the furniture. He hops a few paces, looks around for his crutches. He swears they move of their own accord (he can't see them). He hops the short distance to the wall, makes the mistake of putting is broken leg down. He almost cries out in pain.

"Did you have breakfast this morning?" Gillian calls from the kitchen.

So she's keeping tabs on him now? He's allowed to not eat if he doesn't want to. He doesn't answer her. He hops a few more steps to the door and almost runs into Gillian. "Oh," she gives him a smile. "Thought you might want these," she gives him the crutches. Cal almost scowls. Yeah, he feels like a petulant child. A frustrated child who's being mothered (he doesn't like it when any woman tries to do that. Didn't like it even when it was Zoe.) He doesn't want her to. Not when they're... sort of together... and it's not meant to be that way. He's meant to be looking after her because that's what... really? That was it? He was pissed off because he couldn't look after her? (Like a man is supposed to?)

Gillian doesn't hover to watch him awkwardly make his way into the other room. He's still annoyed (annoyed with himself and the situation) so when he comes in, she takes one look at his face and turns away abruptly, avoids his eye while she finishes setting out their meal. Cal makes his way to the breakfast bar. The stools are the right height for him, so he doesn't have to leap up or drop down, he can just slide over and sit, his broken leg not cramped under a table. He puts the crutches to the side. Gillian sets tea down in front of him. Tea. Not a soft drink (like she has), or juice, or a milkshake even. She knows him.

The silence is heavy and Cal knows it's all him. He wants to tell her he's sorry. It's not her. It's him. (And that he can't seem to help it.) But he doesn't, can't, doesn't know the words. Hasn't done it before. Isn't so sure a simple 'sorry' is really going to cut it. Sorry is for accidentally standing on someone's toes. Proper apologies require more than that. And Gillian deserves the best.

(If she deserves the best, then why does he continue to act like a jerk towards her?)

So Cal moves on to at least starting a conversation. Any conversation at all. This time, he had a really good one. "So it went all right then?" He looks up to meet her eye as she's wiping her hands, finished with meal preparation. Her face is neutral as she thinks about the question, then gives a slight node and confirms that it did. She moves around him to sit on his left side. On Cal's plate is a toasted club sandwich and fries. It smells really good though and he can see the egg yolk is oozing, like it's still hot and the cheese has melted a little. When he picks up a chip, it's hot enough in his mouth to make him a little cautious.

Gillian essentially killed his conversation, he realises. She does that, he thinks, when she's mad at him (not in a sulking child kind of way. She just goes quiet, like she can't be bothered with him. Which might be entirely fair enough. He's more likely to sulk like a child). Not just this week gone, but before then too. Since last year, when he first met Wallowski (and that whole thing happened), she's been quieter, less cheerful, stringent with a smile. He's just starting to think that might have been his fault. She didn't abruptly change after she left Alec.

He really is a jerk bag.

Cal has to pick up his sandwich with his left hand. He worries about getting the cast dirty (and stale egg and cheese tucked in against his skin and the plaster sounds horrendous already). He takes a bite and it's good. It's a toasted club sandwich, but it's still really good. Bacon and aioli and all the naughty things, like cheese and butter. Gillian's having a Panini, which she manages to eat delicately (Cal watches out of the corner of his eye). "This is really good," Cal tries when he swallows. He turns his head a little to actually see her face and her eyes slide over to his, but they're not completely dead anymore. She gives him a slight smile around her mouthful and swallows it down quickly to answer him.

"Thought we might try some local cuisine."

"This is local?"

"Yeah," Gillian tells him.

Well it would have to be for her to get the food here and it still actually be hot.

"It's good," Cal repeats.

Gillian smiles again, takes another polite bite of her Panini.

"I didn't have breakfast," Cal adds, finally answering her. Gillian doesn't respond.