Cal stewed. He stewed most of the night, too tense to sleep, his brain wound too tightly, too many thoughts and too much anger. In the morning he drifted off and slept like a rock for a few hours. He woke to the sound of his phone and reached for it blindly. It was his alarm, but he hadn't set it. Confused, he turned over, shoulders stiff from lying in one strained position all night and found Gillian gone, her side of the bed made, the curtains open a little to let in some light, a damp warmness coming from the slightly open bathroom door and silence. So. She had got up, had a shower, dressed and gone to get the boys, setting his alarm to wake him when she had gone.

Cal lay on his back a moment, letting his adrenaline heart rate return to normal. With each breath the made himself relax a little more. Maybe he had over reacted last night. Maybe he hadn't. It could have been a lot worse and he considered himself justified and relatively controlled considering. Yeah, all right, so maybe it wasn't a big deal the boys being over there while her father was drinking because it wasn't like he had been left alone with them, that Gillian knew anyway... nope. He couldn't justify it the other way. And he had every right to be angry. The only thing going for the situation was that it was in the past. And that David was now dead, which meant there would not be a repeat. And Gillian was grieving.

Damn it.

Cal threw back the cover and stumbled out of bed. He kicked his underwear away, suddenly remembering last night and really, could her timing have been worse? She makes love to him and then drops that on him and how else did she think he would have reacted? Deceased parent did not trump the safety of his children. It did not. Maybe he was being short-sighted.

Cal had a shower and shaved and got dressed in his nice work trousers and a shirt. He slipped his shoes on, leaning on the bed to tie the laces, and headed downstairs. His schedule was tight. He might have to skip breakfast. When he got to the kitchen Gillian was making lunches at the bench, the boys were finishing their breakfast at the table, talking to each other about which was the better fighter the great white shark or a white tiger; more talking than eating. Lewis signed rapidly and Owen tried to keep up mentally; tough when there was five years between them.

Gillian sort of, half looked over at Cal, glancing at his feet more than anything further north than that. Cal watched as her shoulders tensed, like she was bracing for the worst. They had never fought in front of their kids either and Cal sure as hell was not going to start now. Some conversations were just for the adults in the house.

"I made you coffee," she offered, pointing absently to a mug on the bench.
"Thanks," Cal reached for it. He sipped. Luke-warmish; but the thought was there and he could just drink it all straight away without scalding his tongue and throat. "Thanks for lettin' me sleep-in too."

"Yeah I figured you got about as much as I did," Gillian turned her gaze back to the sandwiches on the board.

"Look Gill, last night I was angry," Cal started softly, stepping closer so his words were directed at her only.

"I know. And you had a right to be," she interrupted, her voice just as low. "I still want to talk," her eyes wavered nearer but still, she would not look at him.

"All right. Great. Cos I still want to listen."

She lifted her head further, glanced at his face and when she saw he was not angry or holding anything in his eyes but compassion she dared to look again and actually hold his gaze. She looked unsure and Cal decided he wasn't angry anymore. He stepped a little closer, knowing it should be soon, their conversation, before this... whatever it was, became an irreproachable rift. "Maybe afta you drop the boys off?"

"Ok, sure," Gillian agreed easily with a nod.

Cal nodded himself. "I have to go."

"Take something for breakfast," Gillian directed.

Cal reached for an apple, almost laughed, almost teased her for mothering. But left without saying anything else to her. He said good morning and goodbye to his sons, but he left without saying anything else to her.

PJ

Cal kept his office door open for Gillian for after she dropped off the boys and they were meant to talk. He wanted to pace. He wasn't sure what to say and a part of him was nervous. He was usually so good at reading the signs and clearly he had missed something that was on her mind. Unless it was merely about her father's death and there wasn't some other big, deep seated problem that had been festering away for months on end. Also, he had a right to be angry about her keeping that kind of information from him, he did, but also, her father had died and so he was torn between empathy and vindication and...

He heard Gillian's voice in the corridor before she came in; she must have been talking to Kim. A pang of nerves hit him again and he reminded himself to not judge, to just listen to her, hear her out before he came to a conclusion and then talk calmly about how he felt. Because that was what good communication was about and he really shouldn't jump to conclusions before he had all the information. Mostly, he didn't want to be in a fight with his wife. That's not what they did.

Gillian gave him a tentative smile as she approached his desk, like she couldn't help it on seeing him but felt she shouldn't give any indication this was a laughing matter. Cal got up. Surprisingly, he still didn't feel angry anymore, even after having an hour and a half to think about it. At least, he wasn't angry with her.

"Shall we..." Gillian gestured towards his study and Cal nodded that it was a good idea. They headed towards it, Cal letting Gillian go first, and Cal pulling the door closed behind them. Gillian perched on the red couch under the window and Cal sat next to her, close, their knees touching. He wondered if he should start...

"Ok so let me explain," Gillian started. Cal nodded she should go on. She sighed and it looked like a lot of tension drained out of her. Cal studied the lines of her face, the grey at her temple and suddenly realised something. She had been dealing with her father's drinking for a really long time and surely that was a terrible burden to bear. But it seemed harder to explain than either of them thought because she sat for a while silently, fidgeting with a fingernail.

Cal took her hand and covered it with his. He didn't exactly dwarf her but he was still bigger and stronger and maybe in this situation, he would be stronger again. "Gill. I was really angry last night and I'm sorry for goin' off," he started.

Gillian met his eye. "You had a right to be." She looked stricken and Cal gave her fingers a squeeze of reassurance.

"It doesn't matta now, with the boys. It's in the past."

"And I really should not have done that to them, or you. Mom told me it was fine, he wasn't drinking that much, just a few here and there and you know? She used to say that to me when I was eight. And it wasn't fine." Gillian looked over at him with tears in her eyes and Cal felt a pang of sadness on her behalf. "I have no idea why I let myself get sucked in to that all over again. It's pathetic."

"Oh come on," Cal went to interrupt.

"I thought I was beyond that now. You know? I thought I had dealt with it and moved on or something I don't know," she shook her head and looked away and Cal realised in the way she held her shoulders that she was ashamed. "I promised myself I would never go back to that time... that I would never let him do that to me again, and worse, this time, I got my kids involved."

"Why didn't you put your foot down?" Cal asked gently.

Gillian sighed again. "I don't know. I think because the little girl inside me is still in denial, is still hoping he has it under control... that he'll stop." She looked up and met his eye again and he could see the wetness was still there. "I don't know how to say no."

"But you do," Cal reminded her. "You left rememba?"

Gillian looked down at her lap, at their hands clasped together. She nodded, but maybe college had just been a convenient excuse. "I don't know what to say." Cal shifted his hand to put his arm around her. He pulled her against his shoulder and gave her a squeeze. He didn't know what to say either. "I think I was still afraid of him, of rejecting him."

Now Cal really didn't know what to say.

"He was my father, you know?"

Cal nodded.

"And I loved him," Gillian went on, her voice breaking a little. Cal gave her another squeeze. Really, if it weren't for the fact that David had just died, he doubted he would be so understanding right now. He would be having a go at her and making all kinds of demands and probably a few stupid threats he'd regret later.

"I just wanted him to be able to stop," Gillian sobbed and Cal turned her into a tight full body hug.

"I undastand Gill," he soothed a hand up and down her back slowly. "I get it darlin'." And he did. Exchange 'dad' for 'mum' and she could be talking about his relationship with his mother. Except she was gone and never coming back and she had never managed overtures towards false hope. "It's hard to tell them they're not good enough."

"Yes," Gillian agreed.

They were silent for a moment. Cal felt Gillian reaching up with a hand to wipe her cheeks; had to get in quick before her make-up made a mess. "You know," he started again. "Darlin'. You could have told me and I would have told him, if you were afraid to. You could have made me the bad guy."

Gillian pulled back a little. "I didn't want to drag you in to it."

"It's not draggin' me in to it Gill. We're married. My family too. I'll be the bad guy for you."

Gillian's eyes softened. She gave a little nod. "I made a mistake."

"Nothin' happened to the boys while they were there?"

She shook her head adamantly 'no'.

"Were they even around him while he was drinkin'?"
"They might have been."

Cal suppressed a sigh. He wondered if he should sit the boys down and talk to them about it. Or maybe drawing attention to it would merely highlight the fact that something was wrong. They might not have even noticed. If David was only drinking a bit... he might have been completely sober when the boys were there, for all Cal knew. For all Gillian knew. She didn't seem to know and Cal was starting to feel like he was beating a dead horse with a switch.

It was in the past, he reminded himself. That was what was going to get him through his. His wife was admitting a mistake and it was in the past and no one got hurt. Cal gave Gillian's arm another squeeze and sat back against the couch, pulling her along with him. She held him tighter and then they fell silent.