She's not unhappy to see Emily. Not at all. She's glad Cal is reunited with his daughter. Absolutely. (Even though he just saw her at Thanksgiving, which was only a few months ago.) It's his daughter, and she gets that. It would drive her nuts to be separated from a child of her own without ever knowing when or where she would see them again. So she gets it, she really does (because that has actually sort of happened to her). She knows Cal has been worried, probably can't imagine how much. And she's sure it would go the other way too, with Emily worrying about her father. That's fair enough. Especially under the circumstances.
But how did Emily know where they were? She can't have figured it out. There was nothing to go on. Gillian made sure she didn't tell Emily anything in that phone call. And besides that, when she had called the young woman, they had been in Minnesota. So how did she know to come to Colorado? And what is she even doing here anyway? Gillian thought she had made it clear on the phone, they were in a bit of trouble, and needed to be low key for a while (but maybe her idea of 'low key' and everyone else's idea of 'low key' is completely different; maybe the implied 'witness protection' had gone over the young woman's head). Emily showing up here is not great. She's not unhappy to see her, not at all, but the only way Gillian can figure it, in those few seconds it took her to go to the door and open it, is that Cal has something to do with it. And by the little flash of guilt in his eye, she'd say he has everything to do with it. She can't accuse, because she doesn't know for sure yet, but her gut tells her he told, so this is all his fault. And he's an idiot. He's put them all in danger.
Gillian goes upstairs to... clean up again. She has another quick shower, tries to shut out of her mind what they were doing before she saw Emily walk past the living room windows (because, God, it was… it was just so… she can't form words good enough to describe how incredible it felt) and dresses again to go out. She needs to get out of the house, get some space, because she doesn't think she can be polite when she feels angry and surprised (ambushed) and... a little frustrated (she might not be entirely annoyed with Emily finding them; it might be a little bit to do with the frustration). She feels completely unsettled, like Emily is violating her private space (her safe haven). And it's weird because she's usually far more gracious when it comes to the younger woman (when it comes to most people).
Gillian manages to sneak out of the house without even saying goodbye (which might be a little petty, but she just can't face it). As she goes past the living room she can hear Emily asking about Cal's breaks and him assuring her he's fine (she doesn't even look in on them, just rushes quietly past the room to the front door, hoping neither of them sees her. Seeing as no one calls out to her, she'll assume they didn't). It makes Gillian feel more irritated and she slips on a jacket and goes out the front door. She's surprised to stumble onto a brilliantly sunny day (she wasn't paying attention before now) and it quietens her soul again. She takes deeper breathes, feels the sun on her face for a moment (remembers she's trying to get out of there without being stopped and goes to the car quickly). She lets the window down and heads out onto the street, letting the fresh air brush over her face (it's not icy, but it is still cool and she feels refreshed and more awake than perhaps she has in weeks). She feels an inane urge to cry and it's not the frustration from Cal not finishing anymore.
The thing with him is that she never really knows what to think or feel or where she stands or what he's thinking or feeling and what she's meant to do or how she's meant to behave. She and Cal were just starting to get somewhere... (and not just with the literal part of sex). She felt closer to him, like they were connecting or something (but maybe she's deluding herself. Maybe it's just about the sex), like maybe they were… opening up to each other, letting each other in a bit more (beyond a friendship level); it certainly seemed as though Cal was. And then this happens. He did this without telling her and it doesn't sit right with her. He craps all over that trust with doing these things behind her back. This isn't just his life he's messing around with. Not anymore.
Gillian heads to the nearest shops (what she considers as their 'local' shops now) and to the cafe there that she's gotten quite used to (they do great food, and the coffee is pretty nice as well). She orders a cappuccino and a white chocolate muffin and sits in an armchair in the sun. While she waits, she thinks again about Cal. She's known him so long now (ten bloody years!) and they've been close over that time. But they've also drifted apart in other moments and yet, recently, Gillian thought they might have been getting closer together again (this is before the explosion and the witness protection thing. They had put the Wallowski episode behind them and he had given her space to grieve over Claire and then they had come back together). Of course, this whole situation has landed them really close together (which made them get very close together). She keeps thinking about sex. She keeps thinking about how Cal's fingers felt on her, then his tongue (god he was wickedly good with his tongue), how...
And oh... ok maybe she's a little jealous that Emily's shown up just as Cal was starting to take her somewhere amazing (if she has to be honest about it).
Her coffee arrives and Gillian gets a pleasant smile from the young woman serving her. She picks the muffin apart a little bite sized piece at a time, making it last longer, while she absently looks out the window at people going by. She starts to think about what she's missing at home, the familiar people she doesn't know at all, shops where the proprietors knew she was a regular, and knowing the best thing to order off a menu. Here, the coffee is good and the muffin is great but she feels like a stranger in a town she's meant to be calling home. And maybe it also feels a bit like her one ally has just betrayed her (she's aware she's being just a little dramatic about it).
Gillian finishes her beverage, makes sure to leave a tip in the jar and heads out again. She walks across the road to the mall and goes in. She thinks she'll just have a look, but of course looking leads to buying and she ends up with new shoes (always a sure fire way to make her feel better about the shitty aspects of her life) and a watch (because if Cal can buy himself a new one, so can she). Then she thinks about the other things she had at home that she doesn't have now, like a good book to read (because she might have lingered in the coffee shop a little longer if she could just sit in the sun and read for a bit, like she would at home), so she goes to a bookstore and picks out a few novels. There are (were) a stack beside her bed back home but she can't actually remember what they (are) were (she never got around to actually starting any; too damn busy) so just gets something new. She sees three books that she thinks Cal would like but refuses to get them for him (she is not happy with him right now. No matter how well he can justify it to her, or how well she can justify it to herself either, the truth is, he did this behind her back. And that just down right pisses her off. Plus, plus, it's also dangerous.)
And while she's there Gillian has lunch at a sushi place. She has no intention of going back to the house before it's been a really long time and Cal's started to worry about her (if he's even noticed that she's gone). She's glad for a nice day. After she drops her shopping off at the car she goes for a walk in the sun. She makes her way down to where the creek runs through town, walking along its bank, watching the trickle of water (there's not much of one to see). She's not particularly in the mood for exploring, just walking and thinking, so she doesn't pay attention to where she's going or how far she's walked. When the sun starts to dip lower in the sky she realises she must have walked miles. She turns and heads back the way she came, to where she left her car. Behind her, she can hear quick footsteps on the track and it makes her heart thump and her skin prickle with the paranoia. Now she realises how far she's wandered from other people; she's isolated. She quickens her pace but the steps don't falter and she's too afraid to turn around and just look (even though she tries to rationalise to herself that it's probably nothing, it's no one. No one is out to get her. But she can't be sure of that).
Her shorter legs can't win out. The man passes her without a glance, his long stride out pacing her in a second and he's gone up the path quickly. Gillian slows to an easier tempo, her legs aching, more from the tension than the race. She checks her new watch and keeps walking. She thinks about checking her phone, in case Cal has called, but knows that if he hasn't, that will hurt her more. She refrains. And she walks. She walks for over an hour and starts to feel afraid that she's missed the place where she started. She wasn't paying attention when she started off from, is not familiar with her surroundings. She plunges on, telling herself it can't be far. She starts checking her watch every five minutes, worries more, feels the tendrils of fear creeping back into her shoulders. Her footsteps echo sinisterly in the fading light as she passes under a brick bridge but on the other side is the path that leads back up to the street and she makes it back to her car, hot, sweaty, her muscles twitching and jumping, juxtaposing against the thump of her heart.
She notices a white strip of paper under the windscreen wiper on the passenger side, has to get out to get it. Her feet ache in a swollen kind of way and she regrets the excessively long walk (even though it helped distract her about Cal quite efficiently) but not the shoes. She loves these shoes. And she's already broken them in. (It's not the shoes, they could never do anything wrong). It's a parking ticket, which is a cruel gift to welcome her back to the car, seeing as it's a Saturday (but she begrudgingly figures she can consider herself part of the community now). Gillian tosses it into her handbag with a sigh, rubs the tips of her fingers over the bones of her face, the pressure grounding her, refocussing; an old trick. She's not prone to headaches (though Cal tires), she's just wary (and maybe a little physically exhausted). She feels suddenly so very alone. It's never been easy with Cal, but she might not have realised this until now: he always fights against her. He makes decisions on his own without (seemingly) taking her into consideration; he's done that the whole time they've been in business (allegedly) together. And he's still doing it now.
So she's wary. And feeling lonely. She doesn't know anyone here at all, no one within a five hundred thousand radius (that might be an exaggeration); there's no one she can go run to talk to. She feels like she's alone on the planet, a bit like how she felt in Minnesota. Not just physically alone (even though she's sitting in her car by herself) but… like she's fighting an uphill battle by herself. And her partner, who's supposed to work with her, instead of against her, isn't freaking helping. She doesn't want to go home. But she's hungry. She kind of has to (though she could get take out and eat that in the car by herself. Or go to a restaurant. Somewhere warm. No, she doesn't have to go home right now, but she can't stay away forever. Even though she could find a hotel. If she really wanted to stick it to him, she could make herself scarce for the weekend…) Not that she feels the need to feed him, selfish bastard. She hasn't gotten to talk to Emily, hasn't seen or talked to the young woman since she left for college, and she does care, she does want to know how she's finding university (and what she's doing in Colorado). She thinks she might have made a point (to Cal at least, Emily's probably wondering what the hell is going on) with her absence today. And she really would like to go home and… change her clothes and maybe just relax. She has new books to read (ok, that part is exciting!). Gillian pulls her seatbelt on and starts the car. She puts on the radio, finds something mellow enough (easy listening) and heads back towards the house. It's practically dark now (the sun sets really quickly…) and when she steps out of the car the wind chill is enough to erupt violent goosebumps over her entire body (exacerbated by the physical activity she's cooled down from).
She gets Chinese and gets back into the car, starts heading home again. The dread grows as she gets closer because she's not sure what to say. She knows she should be glad to see Emily and she thinks the young woman will find it odd that she's not glad to see her (no, really, she is glad), it's just that Gillian can't help but think about the betrayal, and more importantly, the danger. She'll have to pretend. She'll have to lie. And Cal will see through that. And she's not in the mood for him at all. The good thing about working together and not living together was that she could escape him when she needed to. When they'd had a particularly tough day, or he had driven her particularly up the wall, she could go home. Alone. He wasn't there and she could get space. And now they live together and she doesn't get that luxury, and not only that, but she didn't agree to living with him (she doesn't think. Never mind the fact that she's given her permission by proxy; her silence was her acceptance).
Gillian grabs the food and her shopping from the back of the car and heads up to the house. The lights are on but it doesn't feel welcoming. She steels herself and puts the key in the lock. She lets herself in, hears voices in the other room. They fall silently pretty quickly and Cal calls out to her. She ignores him for a moment, closing the front door, putting her shopping down. Armed with the food she goes to the living room door, a pleasant smile on her face. "Hey," she finally returns his query. Emily is expectant on the couch and even though Gillian tries not to look at Cal, she can see the concern all over him (not concern, that seems a mild descriptive word. He looks… more like, sick with worry). "Are you guys hungry?" She holds up the plastic carrier bag. "I brought food." Emily's face is pleased but Cal's is not. She can't read what he's trying to convey but it's not good. For a second, Gillian worries something else has happened but Emily's demeanour doesn't indicate more bad news (she doesn't want to flatter herself, but she hopes that Cal is worried about her).
Gillian starts to turn away to the kitchen while Emily says food sounds great and Gillian hears the clatter of Cal's crutches. "Gill?" He calls to her again but she doesn't stop, even though his tone is begging for it. In the kitchen she gets out plates and cutlery, serves herself first dibbs on the food (a selection of everything; she really wants wine. They didn't finish that bottle last night, but she refrains) and goes into the dining room as Emily and Cal start to come in. They dance around each other, all smiles and jovialness but it feels so forced for Gillian that she feels nauseated. As far as she can tell, Emily is being herself. But Cal is not. And Gillian feels a bit like she's crawling out of her skin. She half hopes they'll go eat in the other room, leave her in peace, but she knew she'd be wrong; they come to sit at the table. Emily carries Cal's plate for him, like Gillian used to and it annoys her, makes that irrational flair of jealousy heat her lungs.
When they're sitting Cal tries again but Gillian turns to the young woman with them, starts in on asking Emily how she is, how school is, how her life is, anything that keeps her talking, Gillian quiet, and Cal unable to interject, unless he wants to cause a big scene. And she knows he won't do that, not while his daughter is here and they are, at least, pretending to be civil and pleasant. Emily doesn't ask about Gillian. Not in a rude way, just, she doesn't ask like she doesn't need to know, and Gillian deduces Cal would have told her everything anyway. She wonders how much of everything that entails exactly (has he confessed to witness protection by now? And has he explained what the living arrangements are?). With so much listening, Gillian is able to eat, and eat quickly she does. She finishes her plate, excuses herself and escapes to the kitchen. She can still hear voices in the other room, low, like maybe they don't want her to hear them (paranoid much?) She sticks her head back in to say she's going to head upstairs for a bath. She asks Emily if she's staying tonight.
"No," Emily shakes her head slightly. "I'm staying with some friends in town."
"When are you heading home?" Gillian asks next, casual, she's not trying to force the woman out of town.
"Monday," Emily answers.
Gillian nods, smiles; oh cool. She'll be here the whole weekend. She glances at Cal on her way out again and there's just one word to explain the expression on his face: wounded. Well tough shit.
Gillian goes upstairs and draws a bath.
PJ
Honestly, there are few moments in Cal's life where he actually realises he's fucked up (no really, on occasion he does actually know). But this isn't one of them. He gets Gillian's not happy but he doesn't get why she's being such a hostile bitch about it. Taking off all day and the coming back and barely saying two words to his daughter? Going upstairs as soon as she can get out of there? That's not like her at all. He understands, on some level, that he has a bit of explaining to do (though he's having a hard time even consciously admitting what he's done), sure, but, come on. Surely Gillian appreciates why Emily is here. He would not begrudge her the same thing if their situations were reversed. How could he? So how could she?
"So," Emily speaks up, absently forking her dinner while staring at her father. Cal, distracted by Gillian's impolite exit, takes a second to respond. "How much trouble are you in?"
Cal swallows the urge to choke on his food and instead gives her a flat stare.
"Oh come on. I'm not going to tell anyone," Emily scoffs, her hand going still. "You don't have to tell me all the details but something serious is going on."
Cal gives a final chew and swallows. He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But he's already broken major rules, and oh, when has he ever given much of a damn for protocol? He puts his fork down, sighs a little (maybe for dramatic effect, maybe because Gillian's pissed him off). "Let's just say, a person of a certain agency's personal assistant was witnessed cooking meth and then that person's boss came to pick him up from the address of the lab. Which makes it all very suspicious," he points his fork at his daughter, who is a rapt audience. "And then other things came to light that makes it all very… it's no longer suspicious. It's concrete."
"Some, what? Some FBI guy was cooking meth?" Emily asks and Cal cringes a little that she had to pick that agency (when she could have guessed CIA or ATF) because now if he says 'yes' to her question he's accidentally given away too much information. He shouldn't be talking about this at all (but how's he going to get himself out of it now?) Gillian will kill him.
"Yes," Cal says. "Something like that," he adds. "More of the something."
Emily smiles, pleased (or smug) and goes back to her dinner. "Let me guess?" She goes on. "You were at the meth lab?"
But she already knows this bit of the story now. She already knows about the explosion, because Cal had to explain to her how he broke his arm and leg. So now she basically knows all of it except for names. And Cal has to admit, it feels kind of nice to be able to talk to someone about it who isn't Gillian (and not just because he's mad at her right now. Or, she's mad at him). It feels nice to just be able to be his regular self. There's no need for pretending with Em.
Mostly she talks about herself. It's good though, because it distracts Cal from his own misery. She tells him about school (her schedule, classes, classmates, lecturers) and her dorm-mates and her life. Once going, she doesn't stop much (apparently there's a lot to say). That's good for Cal. Especially after dinner. Once they stop having a non-conversation about him and Gillian (and thank god she doesn't ask about Gillian's attitude) they go back to talking about her life. And philosophy and sate law versus federal law. They talk until well after midnight. Cal's anxiety over Gillian wanes. The house is quiet and after a while, talking to his daughter, he manages to forget about her. When she snuck out, he didn't notice because he was distracted by Emily and then he was paranoid about her return, kept trying to keep an ear out for her return, that desperate anxious need to set things right with her. But since she went upstairs, well stuff it. He can't be bothered dealing with any moodiness (he doesn't know why it has to be so hard). He asks Emily if she's going to stay over.
"No I shouldn't."
"The couch is very comfortable," Cal tries (he should know, he's napped on it plenty enough). He shifts on the cushion as if to emphasise his point (actually, his ass is getting numb). "It's late. Did you drive?"
"I got a cab from the motel. My friends are expecting me back tonight."
Cal hesitates. "What did you tell them exactly about coming here?"
"Relax, I told them I was visiting family. Distant family," she adds, as if that explains it all.
Cal figures that has to be good enough (but he might make it clear tomorrow that she really cannot let anyone know that they're there… and oh, this is… he needs to talk to Emily about this whole thing a bit more tomorrow too. But not now, it's late). "Won't they wonder where you are then?"
"They're on a skiing holiday," Emily scoffs as she gets to her feet and pulls her cell from her pocket. "They'll still be up drinking."
Cal pouts. "Not sure I wanted to know that."
Emily rolls her eyes at him while she talks to an operator and orders a taxi. She waits for Cal to get to his feet (tells him that it's weird to see him moving so awkwardly) and they go to stand by the door, keeping an eye out. Cal feels a dryness in his mouth that he can't explain (in the back of his mind he knows he's done wrong in telling Emily where they are, but he's still denying it. And he will, until Gillian makes him see); thinks maybe he's just been so glad to see his daughter it's hard to let her go again.
"Will I see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah maybe in the afternoon?" Emily says casually as she puts her jacket on. "I'm going to spend some time with my friends. I've already told them I'm not much of a skier so…"
Cal reaches out to untuck a fold of her collar and while her head is turned away he feels a strange sense of pride that she's laying down the foundation of her lies in advance. She said to him once that he didn't pick up on every lie she told, and for the first time, he actually wonders if that's true. If anyone is his true blind spot, it would be his daughter. Especially now that she's older (and knows all his tricks).
The taxi pulls into the drive. Emily's already reaching for the door handle but it toots anyway (Cal cringes a little, hopes that hasn't woken Gillian. Because she has got to be asleep by now. She goes to bed so early). Emily pulls the door open, letting in a cool wash of air and leans out to wave to the cabbie. Then she turns back to him and gives him a tight hug (he nearly loses his balance, puts his foot down on the ground. First time since he got his casts change. Since he was told off. It only hurts a little, but it still hurts. After all this time).
"Gosh," Cal jokes. "It's like you haven't seen me in months."
Emily pulls back, brushes a strand of loose hair from her eyes. "If only." She says. "See you tomorrow."
"Yeah," Cal agrees and Emily leaves. He waits until she's in the car before he closes the front door, covered in goosebumps. He figures there'll be snow for her friends to slide around on. He stands and waits for the cab to pull away from the house, feeling like this is almost normal, like they're back in DC and she's gone off back to her mother's or something. And that feels strange. It's a swirling mix of familiar and foreign.
Cal puts out the outside lights and goes around putting out lights downstairs too. He goes into the passage and stops. He feels warm again now that he's moved around but as he looks up the stairs to the dark landing he can't help the flush of his face. He can't figure it out though, how he feels. Angry maybe but also something else. Tense. Like something is about to happen. A sense of foreboding and regret (and guilt. But he won't admit that). Gillian said she went to have a bath, so she probably went to bed up there too. Cal debates following her. People say 'don't go to sleep angry' but really, the experts say that it's ok to. That it is healthy to actually have some space. If he died in his sleep Cal wouldn't hold a grudge against Gillian. Not for this anyway. This is small potatoes compared to death. But thinking like that makes him feel morbid and there's a nagging thought in the back of his head that's trying to make itself heard and he refuses. He doesn't want to hear it. And he doesn't want to hear it from Gillian tonight either. Going upstairs to sleep with her will probably wake her and he doesn't want to talk to her right now, doesn't want to fight, not now when it's so late and he's tired, so he goes to his room. He shuffles in, sees a figure in the bed straight away and stops, his heart rate increasing a little.
Gillian didn't go to sleep upstairs.
She had a bath and came back down to sleep with him in his bed.
Cal watches her for a moment, mostly because he's so surprised, but also, she fell asleep with the light on, a book slumped over her hand, and she looks peaceful, beautiful, and it makes his heart ache. Aches really badly. He loves her and she didn't go upstairs to sleep.
Cal wonders if he's meant to wake her, so they can talk. But he is a cowardly lion sometimes so he leans one crutch against his dresser and uses the other to manoeuvre across the room. He leans carefully and takes her book. Luckily for him, it's not tangled in her fingers (though he totally loses her place). He puts it on the bedside table, moving slowly and softly. He takes his clothes off, pops out the lamp. He makes his way around the bed in the dark, stepping on his foot (still notices it doesn't really hurt that badly. Hardly at all actually) and coming to his side of the bed. He sits and places his other crutch against the side table. He swings his good leg to the bed, dragging up his bad leg behind it, his abdominals holding the balance of his body weight while he turns and then lies down. He's on top of the blanket (fucking didn't think of that before he sat down) and won't be able to wiggle under it without either getting up again or jerking the bed around so badly Gillian would have to be medicated to sleep through it. He relaxes. Figures he can get up later if he is freezing to death. Just can't be bothered (is too afraid) to move again. He stares at the opposite wall for a long time, and doesn't notice when he finally closes his eyes and falls asleep. It's much quicker than it feels. And what he doesn't realise is that Gillian is lying next to him, awake, holding her breath, afraid and not sure what to say.