Cal suddenly woke up. He was aware of the house being incredibly quiet, no street noise or anything, but there must have been something that woke him. He was on the couch and he remembered Gillian was in his bed. He was in pyjamas but the covers he must have kicked off. He could feel them tangled around his feet like the heavy chains Jacob Marley had to carry around with him in atonement. This was a unique kind of punishment after all. And it was Cal's own stupidity that had led them to here. Cal groped in the dark and found the blankets hanging over the side of the cushions. Then he heard it again. The noise, whatever it was, that must have woken him up. His heart started beating faster. He sat up slightly, straining to hear it again. Maybe he should go check on Gillian anyway.

He slowly turned on to his side in the cramped space of the couch and then heard a distinct retching sound. He sat up quickly, pulling his feet free from the restraint of the blanket and knocked his shin against the coffee table in his rush. "Ow," he cursed quietly. He felt his way across the room to the doorway and down the hall of his house, his limbs still sluggish from sleep. There was enough light from the moon to guide his way to his bedroom and the bathroom next to it. He pushed opened the door and hit the lights. He saw Gillian flinch at the bright light. It burned his eyes as well and he brought up a hand to rub them, to try and get them to adjust faster. He felt unsteady on his feet as he crossed the small room to the toilet. He had seen enough of Gillian kneeling in front of it, head hovering over the opening, before cramming his eyes closed. His shin stung.

Gillian retched again and whimpered. Cal gathered her hair out of her face. His fingers were moderately warm but her neck was fiery hot where he brushed against it and damp with sweat. Gillian spit into the toilet water. Cal leaned over and flushed it away. The smell of bile was starting to unsettle his stomach. Gillian slumped back against his legs. Through the material of their respective clothing he could feel how warm her back was. Was she sick? Had he given her something dodgy to eat? Or was this related to the car accident? Delayed shock reaction? Or concussion?

"Are you done?" Cal asked gently.

Gillian nodded. "I think so." Her voice sounded meek.

Cal let her hair go and stepped back gently to help her to her feet. She held on to him tightly. He sat her on the closed lid of the toilet. She looked paler than he'd ever seen her apart from the dark grey marks under her eyes, and the deep mottled mark on her forehead where her head had struck the steering wheel. He put toothpaste on the tooth brush he had picked up that evening on the way to his place from the hospital and handed it over. Gillian complied silently, half heartedly scrubbing her teeth.

"So what was that?" Cal asked, standing nearby, watching her carefully. She looked tired, beaten down.

"Dunno," Gillian mumbled around her toothbrush.

"You suddenly got a bug?"

"Don't know," Gillian repeated leaning over to spit in the sink. She winced as she shifted back and breathed funny for a few seconds. Cal remembered her ribs were probably all kinds of colours now from where the seatbelt had pinned her back. He also remembered the doctor hadn't mentioned a concussion.

"Did you take some of those pain pills?"

Gillian looked up startled. Then she tried to pretend she hadn't reacted that way.

"You're supposed to take them with somethin' in your stomach," Cal admonished her. Gillian gave him an annoyed frown. "Otherwise you make yourself sick," Cal continued.

"I woke up in pain and didn't think," she told him annoyed.

"When did you wake up?" Cal took her toothbrush and rinsed it off.

"A few hours ago."

Cal wondered what the time was. He hated that she had been awake for so long alone. "You should have woken me up." He offered her his hand.

"You were asleep," Gillian pointed out meekly, gripping his hand tightly as she pulled herself into a standing position. The pain that rocketed through her was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She grabbed his upper arm as she hunched over slightly, trying to nurse her ribs with a broken wrist.

"You wake me up!" Cal told her off, properly annoyed now. Her fingers dug into the flesh of his arm. Clearly he was going to have to be even more proactive in taking care of her. He absently ran his right hand up and down her back, gently though, more soothing than trying to ease any tension.

Gillian looked up at him. "That feels really good." Cal abruptly pulled his hand away. She may as well have told him it hurt. He was suddenly too aware of how they were standing in their pyjamas. Gillian wasn't wearing underwear beneath her bedclothes and he could see her reaction to the cooler air of the bathroom through the t-shirt. Gillian's face fell as he stepped away a little but she didn't let go of his arm. Cal had a hard time with self control at the best of times; this was torture. The only thing that stopped him in his tracks was the fact that she was in pain.

He pried her hand loose and put an arm around her waist and helped her slowly back to his darkened bedroom. Using the light from the bathroom, he helped her back on to the mattress. He turned on the bedside lamp and piled up the pillows behind her back. He left her sitting up and went to get a glass of water and toast. He made her eat the toast before he shook out two white tablets from the bottle and handed them over.

"So you're my dealer now huh?" Gillian joked lightly.

If Cal wasn't worried about her he might have laughed.

"Are you mad at me?" Gillian asked next. Her hand shook as she passed him the remaining water.

"Not mad," Cal responded quietly.

"You know if you don't want me here..."

Cal looked up alarmed. "What? No. Course I want you here." He stopped abruptly. Nearly said something he might have regretted. "Someone has to keep an eye on you. Clearly too useless at lookin' afta yourself."

Gillian gave him an unimpressed expression.

"You should go back to sleep," Cal changed the subject.

"I really don't think I'll be getting much sleep tonight," Gillian responded.

Cal put the water on the bedside table. He noticed the time finally. It was two sixteen am. "You should at least try," he told her. He was hovering, waiting for her to tell him one way or the other if he should leave and go back to his couch.

"Hm," Gillian murmured in response. Cal got up and turned the bathroom light off. He closed the door and turned back to find her following him intently. "Are you leaving?"

"Nope," Cal made his decision and walked around the bed. He lay down carefully on the spare side. He looked up at her. "Unless you want me to leave?"

"No I don't want you to leave," Gillian said softly. Her blue eyes seemed dark in the dim light.

They lay for a long time in silence. Cal closed his eyes again but he wasn't sleepy anymore. Tired, but not sleepy. He listened to the laboured way Gillian breathed until the pain medication kicked in. Then she seemed to relax a little and she breathed easier. He pried an eye open to check on her. She had her eyes closed but he wasn't sure she was asleep yet. At least the colour was returning to her cheeks.

Cal shifted so he was sitting up. Gillian opened her eyes to look at him. "I'm gonna turn the light off," he told her leaning towards her and then over her carefully to get the lamp. He felt Gillian's hand on his shoulder as he started to pull back. It was icy cold even through the material of his t-shirt. "Bloody hell," he muttered.

"What?" Gillian asked sounding alarmed.

"Your hand is freezin'," Cal felt for it in the dark and held it between his hands.

"I'm cold," Gillian admitted.

"Why didn't you tell me that?" Cal used his admonishing tone again. "You're not very good at the sick thing are you? You're supposed to be makin' demands, tellin' me what you need."

"I don't want to take advantage of you," Gillian replied very quietly.

'Too bloody late,' Cal thought. He gets a call from the hospital that she's been in a car accident. He shows up in the ER worried sick, he volunteers for her to stay over because she's too vulnerable to take care of herself. She sleeps in his bed, slowly drawing him in closer. Inadvertently, she was taking advantage. Cal felt up her arm and rubbed the bare skin. "I'll get you a sweatshirt." He rolled off the other side of the bed.

"Cal?"

"Yeah luv?" He felt his way around the bed and then across to his dresser. His eyes were just starting to adjust to the dark. He could at least make out the large furniture.

"I can't," she started and stopped abruptly. "Thank you," she said instead. Cal could hear her voice was strained but he couldn't tell if that was because she was in pain, was cold or was feeling like he did. That being together was too familiar.

He came back to the bed and pulled her gently into a sitting position and put the sweatshirt on over her head. He helped feed her arms into the sleeves, trying to be as gentle as possible. The sleeves were long and hung over her hands but at least they would keep her fingers warm.

"Betta?" Cal asked climbing over the mattress to his side again. He dared to get under the covers.

"Mh hmm," came Gillian's response in the dark. It was too soon to tell, but the clothing was soft and smelt like him so strongly her stomach had tightened up into an uncomfortable ball and all she could think about was how he was lying right there and was yet so far away.

Cal settled on his side, facing her, his head propped up on the mattress by a hand and a bent elbow. She had all the pillows. He could see her darkened outline only, but he could see her face in his mind. The good version of her face. Not this battered version.

They were silent for a moment longer. "Feelin' warma?" Cal asked.

"Not really," Gillian answered honestly. She wasn't having rolling shivers up her back anymore but she was still uncomfortably cold. She felt Cal shift, then hesitate and then he was moving purposefully again. He lifted the blankets up and scooted the foot of distance between them out of the way. His body pressed against hers, hard thighs against hers, hips and torso against hers. He readjusted the blankets around them so there were no pockets of air. Gillian just about choked on the oxygen in her lungs. She could feel Cal's breath over her hair. She turned slightly into him and then they were both repositioning. Their legs entwined in each other, their bodies remembering exactly how to fit together. He had a hand on the back of her waist before he had thought about it. That was when he tensed up and he felt Gillian tense alongside him too.

"Did I do something?" She asked gently.

"No. Just me," Cal breathed.

"This is unfair to you isn't it?"

Should he agree with her?

"I can go."

"No. Don't move," Cal held her close again, relaxing again, gently using the pressure of his arms to hold her. All right, maybe he was taking advantage of her just a tiny little bit too. Even addicts sometimes relapsed. Tomorrow he would just climb back up there on the wagon and try again. "I would leave but you clearly can't be left alone." Nice convenient excuse.

"No," Gillian agreed. No argument. It wasn't that she was completely helpless, she didn't want to be alone right now; more that she didn't want him to leave. His voice was a gentle whisper from close by. She couldn't see his face in the dark either but she could guess where his mouth was. It was close. Really close.

She kissed him. She knew even before she did it that she shouldn't. Talk about unfair! She knew it was torture for him but it was almost like she didn't care. Or more that she could disregard it. Gillian didn't consider herself to be a selfish person, but on this occasion she was only thinking about herself and her need to feel his lips against hers. She might have kissed him initially, but he deepened it. His tongue explored her mouth unbidden and her cheeks flamed hot with the intensity and passion of it. It was reminisce of the way he had kissed her in his office at the Christmas party.

Cal's hand tightened on her waist and he felt the temperate soar beneath the covers. For a second he was completely lost in her and then a few thoughts started to filter back in. Like the fact that she had just been in a car accident and was in a fragile state. And then that he was in a fragile state with them being broken up and all and now kissing in his bed. He pulled away abruptly and rolled away, catching his breath, his back flat against the mattress. His stomach had jumped up into his pounding heart.

Gillian reached out a hand to his shoulder. "Cal," she said in a strangled tone of voice. She was so close to tears. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, unable to hold in her emotions anymore.

Cal couldn't find his voice or how to straighten out his thoughts. This was a very shitty situation. He couldn't physically walk away from her and yet staying was not going to be any good for either of them.

"I just miss you so much," Gillian continued to cry.

Cal took her hand in his and held it tenderly. He wanted to roll over and put his arms back around her, to comfort her, to wipe the tears away and soothe her and tell her that everything would be all right. But the truth was he couldn't tell her that and he didn't want to. He didn't want to tell her that she would be all right without him because he couldn't convince himself that he was all right without her. Not yet anyway. Maybe one day. He hoped for one day. Time would heal all right?

"I miss you too luv," he told her for the second time that evening.