A/N: So, congratulations are in order for Calculated Artificiality, for her recent innernette marriage to Gerard Butler. This is her wedding gift, as she requested a fic with Burns in it. :P We miss Burns, but it was still too hard to decide, so I'm planning two endings: one for Dave, one for Cal. This first chapter is a jumbled, angst-ridden mess. It's leading up to a more traditional narrative structure in the following 2-3 chapters.

Summary: Gillian and Dave have spent a year wondering what could have been. Now, with Dave's return, they'll have to worry about what will be.

Rated M for language and sexual content, as usual.

Spoilers: Season 2 (Headlock, Exposed)

Sunday's Gone

She remembered what it felt like to receive flowers, brought to her in person, at work, where everyone else could see. She couldn't stop smiling the rest of that day. She cried in her bed at night, remembering what it felt like the first time he told her he was in love with her. He would say I love you, and he'd take care of her in bed. He'd held her in bed, and he'd held her hand when they crossed the street. He'd been so fucking sweet to her. Of course he had to be taken away.

It hurt less, as more time passed, but she still thought about him every day. The what if's mixed with the I wish's, and she could never decide which of them was worse for her. When she was with Dave, she felt like she'd been touched by real love, clean love, love that she was safe opening herself up to. He was noble; too noble. He'd given his life to the government to solve other people's problems and it only made her love him more, even when it took him away from her. He was pulled out of her life so suddenly, it left her with an empty space behind her ribs, where only the torn roots of a heart ripped out were left. It would have to grow back, slowly and painfully, before she got over him.

Cal had been sweet to her in the weeks after Dave left. He'd seen her heart break, and he wanted to be there for her, to help put the pieces back together. Then, after he realized she wasn't getting over Dave quick enough, he became a total grump. Cal realized Gillian's heart had been ripped out by Dave leaving, and it drove him mad, because that meant her heart no longer belonged to Cal. Not since Dave had brought her flowers, and not again, not until her heart had returned for her to give away again. And even then it would be a tender heart, a cautious one, one that perhaps wouldn't trust or allow new affection for a very long time.

She didn't flirt with Cal anymore. She didn't grin and laugh about silly things anymore. Cal wanted to believe those days would come back. They'd come back after Alec. Then again, Gillian had fallen out of love with Alec long before the divorce. Cal wanted to trust in Gillian's inner strength and her ability to bounce back. In the meantime, he'd hate Dave for ever bringing her flowers in the first place.

He remembered what it felt like to bring her flowers, seeing her eyes light up when he poked his head into her office. He asked her to dinner, and she said yes. He knew it wasn't the smartest idea when he was undercover but he couldn't resist her, not for a second.

After he was forced to leave her behind, he would lay awake at night, wondering what she was doing. He wondered if she was over him yet, and if Cal had ever made a move now that he was out of the picture. On the one hand Dave was comforted, knowing Gillian had someone looking out for her. On the other, Dave thought Cal was a mess and knew that he could hurt Gillian as much as he could help her. Both thoughts tortured him on a daily basis - the thought of Gillian being hurt, and the thought of Gillian being cared for by a man that wasn't Dave.

"I'll be the blanket," Gillian said as she laid her entire body down on top of him. "You be the pillow." She curled her upper body inward, cuddling him from above, resting her head on his shoulder with her face near his neck. Dave smiled and put his arms around her, one across her shoulders and the other just lower, so he could squeeze her. She nuzzled his neck, trying to get closer, to be as close to him as possible. His hand moved to her hair, stroking it softly, and she inhaled deeply. He smelled amazing. They'd just finished making love, and they were going to sleep naked next to each other for the third time that week. The next day was a Sunday, and they planned to wake up late, snuggle, go to the bakery, bring back pastries and coffee and read the paper together. Then they'd spend the afternoon in bed. Life was damn near perfect.

Sunday sex had always been the best. Sunday sex had been epic. When they were all added up, the number of Sundays they'd actually spent together was small, but it was all Gillian thought about when she was alone in bed. At one in the morning, Gillian would pull the covers over her head and close her eyes. She'd imagine herself in Dave's apartment, in Dave's bed, with the eleven o'clock sun streaming in the windows. She'd remember Dave's mouth all over her body, she'd remember the weight of him on top of her, and she'd remember feeling him inside of her. When Gillian got too lonely, she would think about their epic Sunday sex, and she would touch herself, imagining she was back there, back when life was perfect for her. When she came, she would moan, and the sound would remind her that she was alone. In her mind she could hear Dave too, but in the empty silence of her bedroom, her ears could only hear her own moaning. She would come so hard, just thinking about Dave, about his mouth and his hands and his tongue and the rest of him. She'd come, and then she'd cry, knowing that she'd only made it worse for herself by trying to relive the past. She'd curl up in bed and sob against her pillow, the physical satisfaction fading as the emptiness returned. There was no warm body to hold her afterward. She missed him so much.

Dave thought of their Sundays when he was in the shower. He'd make the water so hot that it would turn his skin red, and he'd face the spray, letting the water fall over his back when he bowed his head. He'd close his eyes and think about Gillian's thighs pressed against his pelvic bone. He'd think about waking up beside her and watching her sleep for another twenty minutes, or the times when he woke up after her and found her watching him instead. In either case she'd smile at him, and depending on the mood they'd either do it right then and there, or they would wait until the afternoon. Often, Dave would recall that one night, when they both got drunk and Gillian ended up on all fours with Dave behind her. They'd both gone wild that night, but it made him feel guilty when he thought about it too long, thinking he'd debased her somehow. If he'd known how often she thought of that night too, he would have allowed it a larger place in his fantasy of memories. Gillian was all he thought about when he masturbated, and even the abstract manifestations of her love would turn him on. She'd kept his secrets, the way a life partner would. She was strong enough and smart enough to protect his identity, and for that his Sunday memories were sacred. He would think about his hip bone pressed into the muscles on the back of her thigh, about how deep he'd been inside her, for so long on those lazy afternoons. He'd jerk himself off, alone in his shower, and then he'd be overcome by a sense of loss. He'd press his hand against the wall and rest his forehead on his arm, letting the water scald him as he thought about how impossible it would be to find another woman like her, how futile it would be to even try. He wasn't over her, and he was nowhere near wanting to be.

"Oh my god..." Gillian moaned into her pillow. She was laying on her stomach, nude as always on a Sunday afternoon, and Dave had her straddled as he massaged the knots out of her back and shoulders. His hands were so strong, trained for combat and firing guns, Gillian supposed. She cried out when she felt pain, but the pain was delicious, and she didn't tell him to stop or let up. She'd instructed him to dismiss her moans, groans and whimpers, to enjoy them as something sexual rather than a warning to go easy on her.

"You're tense." Dave's voice rumbled, making Gillian smile with her eyes closed. "You're letting work get to you again."

"Look who's talking." Gillian groaned. He started in with his thumbs on her lower back, and she held her breath for a second before letting it out with an intense sigh. Then she giggled at her thoughts. "Am I going to get the happy ending this time?"

"You get anything you want. You know that."

Gillian's lips formed a very pleased smile. "I want the happy ending."

Dave's hands left her back as he leaned down to speak softly in her ear. "You like when I do that for you?" he asked, his tone playful but still full of meaning.

"I love when you do that for me..." Gillian replied, already turning over underneath him...

It was easy to think things could have gone on forever that way. Dave and Gillian hadn't been given the chance to fuck up the relationship in a normal way - not in the hard earned, long term way many couples did. The circumstances of their split were ghosts that haunted them, reminding them of a pleasure they were no longer allowed. Things had been perfect, and then they'd been torn apart. It had them convinced that it was Dave's job alone that had been the descructor. It made them both long for a second chance. Things had been perfect, and they would have glady accepted imperfection just to be together again. They would have gotten through the fights, and they would have put up with Cal's attempts at sabotage, just to taste the sweetness of their relationship again.

One year had passed. Gillian was able to sleep at night, and Dave's showers were shorter, but the times were still often that they crossed each other's minds. They'd spent a year writing entire movie scripts of dialogue between them, choosing exactly what they'd say to each other if they ever saw each other again. They imagined responses both negative and ideal, situations in which both dreams and nightmares came true. The dream was that they'd pick up exactly where they'd left off and live happily ever after. The nightmare was that one had gotten over the other, that they'd be seeing someone else. That they'd be happy with someone else.

Forunately for Gillian, Dave had no one else. His job made that easy. Unfortunately for Dave, Gillian had always had someone else, someone whose eyes wandered only out of frustration, and who'd been given his own second chance by Dave's abrupt departure.

And, unfortunately for Cal, Dave was on his way back to DC. They'd all find out soon enough.