When the moment of clarity arrives - or when it returns - you don't remember why the vision was muddy before, or why it took so long to clear up. Suddenly the bad thing doesn't matter anymore, and you want to gather all the good things in one place and hold them there forever, hold them close enough so that, even if the vision gets muddy again, they'll remain right next to you. You'll feel them, and you know they won't get lost in the confusion.

"Em." Cal said quietly. He spoke through her door, right before giving it a soft knock. It was already ajar and she gave no protest, so Cal poked his head in. Emily, on her bed, looked up from a book, her eyebrows raised in question. "I'm going out." Cal told her. "I need to go to Gillian's."

"Did you guys make up?" asked Emily.

"I think we're going to, yeah."

Emily's expression softened. "Go." she said. "Run to her."

"Brush your teeth." Cal quipped as he removed his head from the doorway. Emily smiled, glad to see him in a relatively better mood. She was still smiling when Cal poked his head in again a split second later. "I love you." he added, not wanting to leave without saying it.

"Love you too." Emily called out as he left for real.

The roads were empty. It was a sleepy night. Every red light was a test of patience. When Cal turned the corner onto Gillian's block he resisted the urge to roll out of the moving car and run the rest of the way. As he parked in the spot right in front of her apartment, he thought of Dave, sitting in cars, lurking in the shadows around the places Gillian went. He thought about Dave sitting in the parking lot of the company Cal and Gillian ran together, about Dave avoiding Cal while he waited for Gillian.

Cal scanned the immediate area, looking for occupied vehicles. He stopped when he spotted one across the street. There was a hand on the wheel, attached to a man who slouched in the driver's seat, a man that stared back and made no attempt to hide his body or hide the fact that he'd seen Cal first.

Cal stood and stared back, preparing himself for anything. Dave wanted her back, but was he desperate enough to go through Cal to get her? Would he care enough about Gillian to let her go? Cal didn't want to knock on Gillian's door until he knew the answers to those questions.

Their staring continued a good ten seconds or more. They both lost count, lost in similar thoughts. Dave was there because Gillian had not shown up at the other meeting place, where Dave promised he'd be that night. Dave was there because he needed to know for sure it had been her choice, that she had not been otherwise detained, held up or intercepted. The hours had passed, with Dave knowing Gillian was inside her apartment alone. He'd watched with endless patience, studying the soft glow that lit up the front window, the one that looked into the living room. The curtains were drawn; he couldn't see inside, and there were no storytelling silhouettes to tell him what was going on. All he knew was that she was in there alone. And then Cal showed up.

What Cal saw, when he spotted the other man across the street and through the darkness, was a calm acceptance. Dave reasoned that Cal would have been there in Gillian's place already, unless there was friction between them. Dave also reasoned that Cal was there now because the friction was gone, or because Gillian wanted the friction to be gone. Either way, Gillian chose Cal. Just as Dave always known she would. Dave had to choose his job, to choose protecting those his job affected. So - calm acceptance. She had Cal. Dave knew he was the intruder now. Time to disappear.

Cal watched Dave sit up, turn the key, pull away from the curb and drive away. The moment Dave broke eye contact, Cal knew it was over. He even felt some sympathy for Dave, the defeated one. To lose her again, to know there was no second chance...

Just a ghost passing by.

The moment passed, and Cal didn't care where Dave went, as long as it was away.

The front door opened as Cal's foot hit the first step. There was a nice warm apartment behind her, waiting for him like she was waiting for him. He thought briefly of asking her - Did you see him out there? Were you scared? - but if she hadn't seen him, if she hadn't been scared, he didn't want to put the suggestion in her head. He didn't want her to think about him at all. Dave just didn't matter anymore.

"That's enough unfinished business for one lifetime." said Cal, making his way slowly up her front steps.

The corners of Gillian's mouth turned up. "It's finished." she said. Her eyes were red, but they'd been redder. She may not have let Dave inside but she'd gotten her closure. It helped when Cal agreed to come over without asking if she'd gotten it yet.

"Do I get my makeup sex now?" Cal joked, but the push-your-buttons malice was absent, and there was real hope in the question. Gillian's smile deepened. She was way too tired to even pretend to be bothered by his little jokes. She was too in need of the same thing to even pretend she wasn't hoping for it too. Come in she said with her body, moving aside. Cal put his hand on the edge of the door, and Gillian released it so he could close the door himself.

"Is that why you give me such a hard time?" Gillian asked him. She walked backward, he walked forward, and by the time he embraced her Gillian's back was to a wall and her arms were around his waist underneath his jacket. Cal reached up and pet her hair, cradled her face, needing to touch her and hold her and have her. He kissed her mouth. It was sweet, and hot, and when Cal looked into her eyes afterward it hit him, how badly he wanted to be inside of her.

"Do we fight just to have makeup sex?" she asked him.

Hearing her say the word in that voice of hers made him hard. It happened fast when he didn't have to hide it. He kissed her again, and it occured to him. They'd had a real fight, a real deep down problem, and they were really making up this time. It was fixed, and it felt good. What came next was going to feel even better.

Did they fight just to have makeup sex?

"We wouldn't need it this badly if that were the case." he told her.

Her hands tugged at the fabric of his shirt. There was nothing to unbutton. His lips were on hers and she just wanted the shirt to be gone.

"...Cal."

"...Gill."

"If Sharon Wallowski gave up all her money and time to serve meals to crippled, blind, homeless children...there's still a part of me that would hate her."

"I know, Gill."

"But I can tolerate her. I mean, I can try to tolerate her, when she comes in with a worthy case."

Cal sat up, crunching his abs just enough so he could reach behind his head and fold his pillow in half. He kept it folded by dropping back down on top of it, keeping hold of Gillian's shoulder's with his other arm the entire time.

"It's the cases." he explained as Gillian laid her head back down on his chest. "She dumps these sad stories in my lap, sad enough that she knows I won't turn them away."'

"I know." Gillian said, hand resting on his stomach as she settled back into him. "And I'm not going to let my irrational anger toward a single woman interfere with helping those people. The people that actually need the help."

"Because she's just using me as a shortcut to actual police work?"

"As a crutch. Exactly."

Cal smiled. He didn't want Gillian to see it, or to hear it. It just warmed his heart to know Gillian would always have those jealous feelings for him. She knew Cal had them for her. It was only fair. But what kind of woman would make a conscious effort to get along with - or, at the very least try to tolerate - her perceived rival?

"You're good to me." Cal told her.

"We're good to each other." said Gillian. "When it's possible."

"And when it's impossible?"

"Nothing is impossible."

"Walked right into that one, didn't I?"

Gillian chuckled, and then grew quiet. She was contemplating how she wanted to tackle her next topic. There was one more thing to clear up.

"Can I talk to you about him? Just for a minute?"

"If you really need to."

"It's just that the circumstances were extreme. I want you to understand something about the relationship, about the difference between that one and ours."

Cal took a deep breath and let it out. "You have the floor." he said. "And the blanket." he added.

Gillian sat up and pulled the blanket over, giving Cal more to cover himself. He enjoyed the warmth, but Gillian's body was covered in the process. Cal lifted the blanket up to take a peek, and she pushed it back down gently with her hand. She looked straight at him, using her steady counselor's gaze to get her point across.

"I fell in love with him because he made me happy."

Cal gazed back at her. "And you fell in love with me because I make you miserable, is that it?"

"No, Cal." Gillian said softly, though she knew he was kidding. "I fell in love with you because we're meant to be together. Dave was...a romance. A fantasy. And it worked for a little while because we really loved each other. What you and I have is real life. There's no getting rid of you, there's no getting rid of me. We were already together - we were married to each other before either of us realized it."

"Interesting choice of words there, for your analogy."

"It's not, not really." Gillian argued. "I've been more of a wife to you than Zoe ever was."

Cal didn't bother hiding his surprise at her statement. It was all in his eyebrows.

She reacted with a wry expression. It would have been smug or haughty, if she hadn't made being right look so adorable.

"Do you disagree?" she asked.

Cal felt his mouth forming a smile. He couldn't help it. "I think the surprise comes more from hearing you admit it."

Gillian glanced down, a tiny smile playing at her lips. She settled back down, snuggling against him. "The make-up sex makes me honest, I guess."

She reached up to push the hair away from her face, then draped her arm over his chest, where it had been before. Cal rested his arms around her shoulders again. He stared at the opposite wall, and he felt her bare skin with his fingers.

"Move in with me?" he asked her.

She thought about it. Perhaps the silence should have bothered him, but if she'd answered right away, the answer would have been no. She was thinking about it. That meant the answer was at least a maybe.

"Okay." she said. It wasn't a definite plan, but the actual move was a formality at this point. As the woman said, they'd already been married for some time now.

The End.

A/N: Thanks so much to you patient readers, the lovely reviews kept me going and helped me finish this story when I thought inspiration was gone. That's it for this one, hope it satisfied. :)