Wondering if I lost some people. Is everyone still interested in this story? Any suggestions for improvement?

She kept her eyes squeezed shut even as Finn cruelly shook her by the back of her skull.

"LOOK!" His demanding scream brought a shower of foam and spittle.

"No, no, no…" Gillian's chant was a combination of her refusal to give in to his demand and a reaction to the darkness and horror of the situation.

As his fingers slowly tightened, her morbid curiosity began to get the better of her but for the moment remained steadfast despite her fear of him. She could feel her body shaking violently and nausea rising.

Finn kneeled down next to her, hand unmoving at the back of her neck but his hot, fetid breath against he side of her face. "Okay Gillian. You won't look so I'll describe him for you."

Shaking her head, hot tears ran out from under closed lids.

"Three wounds about an inch and a half long each. First one went through his stomach. Bled like a stuck pig. Quite messy. Explains the big puddle. Second one took out a lung. Can't imagine the pain and then the sudden struggle to breath. Poor guy."

"Shut up!" It was a high-pitched whine.

"Last one directly in the heart. Pulmonary artery I would guess. Lots of blood from that one too, well, at least until the last beat. No beating, no gushing. More of an ooze at that point really."

"Please…"

"Now Gillian. You're just being rude. I didn't even get to describe the expression on his face. Oh wait, that's your department isn't it? You really should see. No? Well, I have to say that I don't think he saw it coming. Well, not from you at least."

She cracked her eyes open. She hadn't meant to. It happened before she could stop herself. The wail began low in her chest. A steady vibration that moved upward before escaping her throat in a scream that seared her from the inside out.

Finn was right.

Cal hadn't been expecting her betrayal. His death mask held shock and pain. His eyes were partially open, staring into forever in disbelief and accusation…

The scream carried her into awareness as she lay in the dark, breath raging, heart hammering, and pajamas sticking to her sweat coated body. And alone. As she remained still and attempted to calm her nerves, she was very aware that he wasn't in the other room any longer. He was home with his daughter where he was supposed to be. And he was fine. She didn't need to be afraid for him. Hell, whom was she kidding? She was always afraid for him. Finn's death wouldn't change that. The whole situation did probably exacerbate it though.

Shifting slightly she caught a glimpse of the bedside clock. A little past five glowed back at her. With a deep, cleansing breath, she kicked the sheet and blanket off. That was it. No way she was going back to sleep now. May as well get up and start her day. Early to work and then a call to Dr. Beck shortly thereafter.

(BREAK)

Cal disconnected with his thumb, walking a little slower as he headed toward the stairwell of the Lightman Group. Emotions were swirling around inside of him, tying together to form a hard knot in his belly.

Some information was better left unknown.

Bainbridge Senior was on suicide watch. Cal wouldn't have guessed that one if asked but then again, there hadn't been a lot of contact even before the whole ordeal began. And since…well just the phone call from several days back. Not like he could catch facial cues from a phone call and as everyone knew, voice analysis wasn't his thing. He stopped for a moment, staring off to the side, noting Gillian's car. She'd probably been at the office for a couple of hours already. That was the way she was. A tiny smile pulled at his mouth at the thought of her before it slipped away. Troubled, he wondered if he had had something to do with the old man's fragile state. He couldn't help but think so, but at the same time, he didn't regret what he'd said. Bainbridge had gone from an enabler to an accessory all in the name of protecting his son. That had been his choice. Cal's reaction wasn't completely out there.

Tightening his jaw, he pushed forward and into the stairwell, taking two steps at a time. How would he feel if the man was successful? How should he feel? Really, he should feel nothing. The old man didn't warrant it. Maybe he was just getting soft in his old age.

Heidi pushed several messages toward him with a broad smile and a 'good morning' as he passed by reception. Nodding in acknowledgement he kept moving. He meant to go to his office but his legs took the detour to Gillian's, pausing outside for a moment before giving a light knock and stepping inside. He didn't wait for an invitation. He rarely did.

"Mornin' darlin'." Cal gave her a sideways smile as his eyes settled on her face. It slipped away as concern once again pulled at him. "Bad night?" His tone had gone gentle. He should have never left her. Inwardly he cursed himself.

Her smile was bright for him, but her eyes were rimmed with fatigue. "A little."

Shutting the door quietly behind him, he stopped only to flip the lock before striding toward her and casually leaning against her desk to look down at her. One hand reached out as his fingers lightly trailed down the side of her face. "The usual?"

Closing her eyes briefly at his touch, they popped back open. "Yes? No?" She shook her head, as if clearing cobwebs. "It just seems to be evolving. I know that it's normal but I really didn't think it could get worse." She gave a shrug. "But somehow it managed."

"Did you call Dr. Beck?"

Gillian nodded, her lips pushing together. "She had an emergency and hasn't been able to get back to me just yet."

Sliding off the desk, he fell into a crouch and took her hand. "You could try running it past me. If you want that is." His eyes were so full of tenderness she almost started to choke up but managed not to. But just barely. Her gaze flitted over him. His face was slightly worn, attractive, loved. There was something else though, something that slipped past before he caught his mistake. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Is there something you're not telling me? I mean, something that maybe you should?" Gillian felt compelled to make the distinction. There was, no doubt, probably lots he wasn't telling her. Of course with the admission of his past tragedy, she figured the list might be marginally shorter. Maybe.

"Does this mean we both need to show our cards?" It was meant to be light but somehow fell a little flat. Cal cleared his throat.

"Maybe."

"You show me yours and I'll show you mine kind of thing?" He tried again, eyes lighting with a tiny bit of mischief.

Her mouth sagged slightly. This time she managed a smile. "Something like that."

Cal straightened and held a hand out to pull her up easily into his arms. He wrapped himself around her as she clung to him fiercely, her lips finding gentle purchase against his cheek. Smiling, he pressed a soft kiss against her hairline before moving away and leading her toward her little leather sofa on the other side of the desk.

"Okay. You first." He waggled an eyebrow as they both dropped into the cushions, his thigh pressed against hers.

"Why do I have to go first?" She frowned at him.

"Cause you're the one in therapy."

"Why should that matter?"

"Cause it's part of the healing process. If you spill it maybe the nightmares will stop. You know, lose their power and such." He gave a wave of his hand to perpetuate the bullshit. In truth he was afraid how she'd react to the whole Bainbridge thing and he wanted to delay telling her it if possible. Maybe if given a few extra minutes he could figure out how to get out of saying anything at all.

Giving out a tiny sigh, she leaned her head against his chest but didn't initially say anything. He looped one arm around her, his hand rubbing her upper arm as he patiently waited.

"The dreams always warp things." She brought a hand up and hooked it around his opposite shoulder to hold on a little tighter. "And they makes me feel physically ill whenever I have them."

"I'm sure that's not uncommon, luv." His fingers moved from her arm to gently sift through her hair, noting the silky feeling against his skin.

"Not completely. I mean, it's not normal but it's not unheard of either."

"Are they memories from the cabin that your mind is twisting around? Or somethin' else?" His breath was warm against the crown of her head.

"Something else." Gillian closed her eyes, breathing his comforting scent in for a moment. "They're…um…they're showing me a couple of my worst fears."

"You sound pretty definite. Most dreams are pretty ambiguous."

"These aren't."

He continued to brush through her hair with his fingers. "What fears Gill?"

Biting her lip, she felt her eyes begin to burn with tears again. Swallowing heavily, she pushed against the lids with the heel of her hand. "Damnit. I'm so tired of crying."
"S'okay."

"No. Not really."

Cal didn't comment, once again just waiting. He leaned his cheek against the top of her head.

"There's a huge part of me that apparently believes I'm just like Finn."

"Well, that's bollocks."

"Tell my subconscious that."

That would take time. He wasn't really equipped to help her with that one, other than constant reassurance and being there. "Could always whisper it into your ear when you're sleepin'. Direct line that way."

"We'll have to have another sleepover for you to do that." She flushed even as the words left her mouth.

He was completely unfazed. "Well that can be easily arranged." He kissed her hair again. "What's the other fear comin' to life in your dream?"

Her normally smooth brow crinkled as she contemplated the answer. Finally she pushed upward so she could meet his eyes as her own began to fill once again. "Fear of losing you, Cal."