Cal tilted his head slightly, frowning. There was an open bottle of wine on the coffee table that appeared to be ¾ empty. He wondering how much was in there to start. "What's that luv?"

She shook her head, eyes dropping to the glass in her hands before taking another sip. "I'm sorry about earlier." Gillian's voice was so low he had to strain to hear her.

With a sigh, he stepped close and dropped himself into the couch cushions, making sure to leave a bit of space between them. "You were right." He gave a shrug, attempting to dismiss her earlier outburst.

"I was out of line." She still didn't look up.

"You went through some serious crap Gill. It would be weird if you didn't blow up all over me." Cal allowed a tiny little smile. "I'm tough, I can take it."

Her face twisted slightly. "Yeah, that's why you left."

He winced. "Touché, darlin'."

She wondered if he'd ever be completely honest with her or if it was just too much to ask. Maybe she should come out and ask. Ask him if he loved her, ask him about his past and press for some real answers for a change. But would she just wind up alienating him? She didn't want him to go away again.

"Reynolds called." His eyes fell to the wine and briefly debated the wisdom of searching out something stronger.

Ice fell into her belly. She'd been right. Into the exclusive club she headed. "He's dead isn't he?"

She listened as he took a breath. "Yeah."

Gillian had expected as much but the confirmation still seemed unreal, so distant. She'd killed a man. Sure, he'd had it coming but her actions had snuffed out that energy that had made Finnley Bainbridge who he was. She'd changed him from a person into a shell. Cal would argue that he'd barely been a person beforehand and in some regard, he'd probably be right. Nonetheless the man had once been a child. He could have even been a happy and good-natured one before the darkness settled in him. Sociopaths often started showing signs early. How long did his father cover for him?

She became aware of Cal's warm hand on her arm and she slowly looked up to meet his eyes. He wasn't even attempting to hide his emotions. His fear for her was like a beacon in the night but the love was there too. That pesky emotion that rarely seemed to see the light of day but shined out at her on the few occasions when his veil lifted. He didn't say a word but his fingers gently rubbed over the sleeve of her top as he watched her.

"What do I do now?"

His fingers still lightly caressed as his other arm looped the top of the couch behind her. She'd inadvertently moved closer to him but didn't remember doing it.

"You take one day at a time. You find things that made you happy. And you slowly move on." His voice was a tender murmur.

She stilled his hand by taking it in her own. "Is that what you did?"

The tension was instantaneous and she wanted to regret the question that had so innocently slipped between her lips. But she didn't. She craved honesty for a change.

"What?" He pulled his hand away as he shifted to look directly into her face.

She wanted to tell him that it was okay. They were both members of the club now. But she didn't. She waited instead.

"Gillian?"

She met his eyes again, feeling oddly calm. "Yes Cal?"

"Why…" He shook his head. "What are you askin' me?"

"I am asking you if we share more common ground now." Her voice was undemanding but her expression was anything but.

"I…I'm not sure…" His heart was pounding in his throat and he could feel a cold sweat pop out on his forehead. "I'm not sure…I'm getting' ya." He knew damn well what she meant.

She sat up a little straighter, moved a little closer. "I think there's something in your past that put you in the same position that I am now."

The heartbeat was in his ears now. How had she come to this conclusion? Had he said something that he didn't remember?

"Please Cal. I would like some honesty. Emotional honesty would be wonderful too but I'm not holding my breath." There was actually a teasing quality there even as he contemplated horrifying memories from a whole lifetime ago. It was so incongruous.

He took a deep breath, letting his eyes shut for several moments before opening them and meeting her pained but curious blue ones. "You think I killed someone."

"Am I wrong?"

Somehow the dynamic had shifted on him. Somehow she suddenly seemed the one comforting him. What the hell happened?

"This isn't about me. Whatever happened long ago was long ago. I want to help you through this present situation." He leaned forward again, catching her eye, attempting to shift things back.

She should have known he'd sidestep. Anger began to flair once again but she bit it back. To be honest, she had no right to be angry. Whatever had happened, he'd dealt with it, packaged it up and put it away. Was it right for her to ask him to relive something like that? Was she being selfish thinking that he'd want to compare and contrast? What the hell was the matter with her? She knew what the matter was. She killed a man yesterday. A nervous giggle almost escaped. God, she must be going crazy. Taking a cleansing breath, she pushed the feeling away.

"Why can't you talk to me?" Gillian reached out, feeling the stubble under her fingertips as she touched his face.

Jumping up, Cal's body felt tense, wired. He didn't understand where this was coming from. "This isn't about me!" It was almost a shout and he immediately threw some more guilt onto his already hefty pile.

"I think it is. I think it's about both of us." She looked at him, surprisingly calm. "I know I'm not alone here and I…" Her voice caught for just a moment. "I need that assurance."

The muscle on the side of his jaw was throbbing in agitation as he gritted his teeth. This was not something he thought would, or could, ever come up. What had he said that made her suspect? He couldn't think for the life of him. It must have been something from their time in the cabin.

"It wasn't something you said. It was how you said something." She could see him struggling with his memory and didn't want to add to the confusion.

He stared at her blankly.

"In the hospital you said that you were glad Finn didn't die. You said that killing someone is a life changing experience and that I shouldn't be saddled with it."

Cal continued to stare and she watched as his face shifted, became less guarded, almost sad.

"What you said was truthful on a personal level. There was no way you were just making some kind of blanket statement." Her voice had softened as she hesitantly held out a hand to him. "You know about me. I want to know about you."

He didn't move. She already knew him. Amazingly so. One unguarded moment brought the floodgates open and a tragic incident from his past tumbling out. Of course she was currently drowning in her own personal hell. It made sense that she'd grasp onto something tangible like a lifeline.

The confession was close but if he did, what else was he likely to confess tonight?

Her slender hand was still stretched out to grasp his, her eyes oddly patient.

On numb legs, he once again approached the couch. She took his hand and he allowed her to pull him down next to her.

"Tell me."

"I'm not sure how this is going to help you luv."

His hand was still grasped in hers and as he watched, her other hand came up to further cradle his. Her fingers were so delicate. He looked back up when she began to speak again.

"It would be nice…" She stopped, blinking back tears. "It would be nice to know that I'm not as…alone as I feel."

Swallowing, the sadness reared up in him again. "You'll never be alone."

Gillian wondered if he'd suddenly shifted the conversation. His eyes seemed to be bridging some kind of gap but she couldn't be sure.

"Tell me." Her voice was a murmur as she repeated the request.

"Very long time ago." He gently pulled his hand from between hers and placed it around her shoulders. Gillian automatically moved a little closer. Close enough that he could press a kiss to her temple and inhale the fragrance of her hair.

"How old were you?" Her breath was now against his neck.

"Nineteen."

"So young."

"Yeah." Cal acknowledged.

Gillian waited for him to continue, feeling a tiny bit of comfort as she leaned into him.