Cal reached out for his wife's hand but he couldn't make his hand grip around hers. Then she turned away from him and so he tried to move closer to her, to be able to touch her but he seemed so slow and sluggish because suddenly she was a few paces ahead of him on the path. A forest, trees and bushes and dim sunlight. So Cal tried to quicken his pace to catch up, a distinct feeling of being behind, of distance and pulling away. It felt like he was wading through mud. His arms did not reach far enough. Gillian pulled further and further away, always just out of reach, a distance that felt like miles and Cal felt sadness and panic and confusion.

It felt like the world suddenly tipped and he was falling? Had he tripped? And then he woke up and Gillian was getting into bed next to him and the room was dark. He was more disorientated. "What?" he mumbled, trying to sit up, his arms feeling uncooperative.

"Shh, it's ok, it's me," Gillian whispered in the dark.

Cal knew it was her. He was asking where she'd gone. Then he remembered where she had gone in the dead of the night. And now she was back. "What happened?" He asked. "Is she all right?" He turned his hip towards her so he was facing her, not that it mattered, he couldn't see a thing; no moon. The light had been on when she'd left. She'd put it on to get dressed and Cal had left it on to keep him awake for when she got back. Fail. Gillian must have turned it off again, just now.

"It's over," Gillian murmured.

Cal was practically on her as soon as the words were out of her mouth. He knew what they meant and Gillian was reaching for him, so they kind of bumped into each other for a moment until Cal managed to embrace her tightly. "I'm sorry," he murmured against her hair and he felt her cry softly against his shoulder. "I'm sorry darlin'."

The phone call had been about Gillian's mother. She'd had a stroke about a year ago and had not been doing very well since. And now Gillian had had a phone call from the hospital to say she had had another one. Obviously she had not made it. Cal checked the time. Gillian had been gone about three hours. It was now two in the morning. Cal rubbed a hand against his wife's back, noting she wasn't wearing a bra and telling himself to shut up; that was not helpful information. He thought more about what he should do next, how he was going to be there for her and what he should say. What should he say?

Gillian pulled away from him and he let her go. She wiped at her cheeks with her fingers and Cal would have jumped in to do that if he wasn't worried about poking her in the eye because he couldn't see. She sniffled too and thanked him for the hug.

"Course," he mumbled, staying close to her. She was on her back now against the pillow and Cal was leaning on his elbow, his hip against hers, looking down at her. In the dark. He wanted to ask her if she was all right but that was a stupid question he didn't want to voice. Her mother had just died. Of course she was not all right. He had wanted to go to the hospital with her but someone had to stay with the boys. Oh the boys. In the morning they were going to have to tell the boys.

"Do you think I should call Matthew?"

Cal came to. Matthew. Her brother. "No. I mean, not now at least. Maybe in the mornin'?"

"Yeah the morning," Gillian agreed and sniffed again. She reached over to her bedside table for tissues. "Do you think they'll come back?"

"I don't know," Cal admitted. They were in New York. On a family holiday before their eldest went off to college. "Maybe not tomorrow. They're back in a few days aren't they? It would be betta for them to wait. You know? Don't you think? To stay? Am I bein' callous?"

"No you're not."

"I just mean they planned that trip for a really long time," Cal went on.

Gillian's hand found its way to his upper arm and she squeezed. "I know what you mean and you're right. So maybe I shouldn't call them?"

Cal suddenly went quiet. Oh now that was a tough one. "Or call them at least but tell them not to rush home."

"They probably will anyway."

"Well make them see there's no rush. The funeral won't be for a while anyway will it?" Cal suddenly stopped again. He leaned down to hug his wife once more. "I'm sorry luv. We shouldn't be talkin' about this."

"No it's ok. Talking's good. I want to talk." Gillian cleared her throat. "I need to talk. I don't want to do this alone."

"You're not alone," Cal murmured against her hair. He turned his head to kiss against her temple. At least, he thought that was her temple. "I'm here."

Gillian gave him a tight squeeze and it sounded a bit like a sob. "Thank god."

Cal held her again, feeling hot from their combined body heat, but enduring it without complaint. She pushed him away a little and he shifted to lie beside her, nice and close, where he belonged. It felt different already, that she was talking and crying and had come home straight to him. When her father had died she had shut him out and that had hurt. Cal still might feel like a useless bastard in light of her parent's death, but at least this time... he might get a chance to prove himself a little. Or at least have a go.

They both over slept the next morning. Cal didn't even remember falling asleep but he was tired and it was a stupid hour of the morning. He felt badly for Gillian, knowing she had wanted to talk and he had fallen asleep, and also because her mother had died. And as he was coming aware, he remembered the dream he'd had last night, of trying to reach for his wife only to find her constantly drifting away and thwarting his efforts. And he felt a pang of fear.

Cal slipped out of bed, trying not to wake Gillian. He put her phone on silent, so no one else would disturb her, and made sure alarms were turned off. Then he went and lit a fire under his sons' asses. They weren't even ready for school. But they had had breakfast. So he made them lunches quickly and drove them to school, getting them there just in time, then headed back to the house. Gillian was awake and sitting up in bed when he got back. "I text you," she told him.

Cal realised he didn't have his phone on him.

"But your phone is over there," she gestured to his bedside table.

"Sorry. What did you want?" He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for his phone. Gillian wrapped her arms around his neck from behind, her stomach warm against his back. She pressed a kiss against his neck. "You," she murmured. "I wanted you." She pressed another kiss against his skin while he opened the message and read it. "Thank you for last night."

"I didn't do anythin'." Had he?

"You were there. That's always enough."

"It's my default when I don't know what to do or say."

"Genius."

Cal gave a slight chuckle but cut it off, feeling bad that he was laughing while she was hurting. Was she hurting? He turned slowly and gently so he didn't dislodge her roughly. She shifted into his lap and he put his arms around her again. "How are you feelin' today? Sorry if that's a cliché question."

"I don't really know," Gillian answered slowly.

"If that was a cliché?" Cal asked quickly. Gillian gave a slight smile. She didn't correct him and he knew. "Did you call Matthew?"

"No," Gillian confessed. She looked up at him. "I don't have the heart."
"I still want to suggest waitin' until they get back."

"I think that would be fantastic for my procrastination. You're such an enabler," Gillian sighed.

Cal held her tighter for a second, pressing a kiss against her hair. "Can I do somethin' for you?"

"Give me more time." There was a pause. "Did you take the boys to school?"

"Yes."

Gillian gave a groan and shifted to bury her face in his shoulder, against his tattoos. "I have to tell them too. Soon."

"Yeah," Cal agreed softly.

"Will you tell them?"

"Pardon?" Cal asked, because he thought he must have misheard.

"Can you tell them please?" She pulled back to look up at him again, blue eyes wide and pleading. "I don't want to do it."

"Sure, yeah, ok," Cal agreed quickly. He was such a sucker for her. "I'll do the talkin'."

Gillian nodded and looked relieved. "Good. Ok. I don't have to worry about that then."

"You're gonna be there though right?" Cal asked, suddenly sensing that she meant for him to tell the boys alone. And the expression on her face said that that was exactly what she was intending. "No way Gill. You have to be there. I'll do the talkin' but you can't not be there. She's your mutha and their grandmutha. It... you can't not. They will need you. They'll be upset and need you. It's different cos they're olda now. They undastand betta."

Lewis was ten and Owen five. It had been two years since their grandfather had died.

"Exactly, they understand more now. It's going to be so much harder," her eyes went back to pleading. Then they filled up with tears and Cal felt the need to back down and promise her everything.

"Come on," he coaxed gently. "We have to do it togetha. That's our role as parents rememba?" She taught him that. To push aside all his own shit to be the best parent for their kids. Even when sometimes it was freaking tough. Gillian nodded against him but her tears were not crying, just weeping and she got hold of herself again pretty quickly. She gave him a kiss and he let her go. Cal found her next in the shower, staring absently at the wall. The only reason he came to interrupt was because her 'quick' shower had already been more than twenty minutes and the coffee he'd made her was pretty much cold.

"Darlin'?" Cal called gently when she didn't even turn as he popped the shower cubicle door open. She turned her head and gave a smile. "Are you gettin' out luv?"

"I thought you might be joining me."

"It's been twenty minutes," Cal countered.

"Oh really?" Gillian looked surprised. She suddenly reached out to turn the water off.

"You all right?" Cal asked again, stepping out of the way.

"Yeah," Gillian agreed. "Just, thank you," she said as Cal handed her her towel. "I was just thinking."

Cal leaned against the sink, watching her. He wondered if he should pry. She seemed to be doing ok and she certainly wasn't cutting him out like last time, when her father died, and like that time after her friend was shot. This time felt different, but he couldn't also help but feel wary.

"About what I have to do and whether I should call Matthew," she turned to him, wrapping the towel around her body. Her hair was wet and it had always been a very good look for her but instead of the usual sexual desire, well ok, there was a hint of that too, Cal felt an overwhelming need to protect her. He pushed away from the bench and stepped forward to put his arms around her. She smelt like floral shampoo and vanilla body wash and it felt like coming home.

"Can I help with somethin' luv?"

"Cuddles help a lot," Gillian murmured over his shoulder.

Cal gave her a squeeze and swayed them for a moment then let her go again. She went to the bedroom to dress and he followed her.

"I feel like I should be crying," Gillian started talking at her dresser. She turned to face him and he sat on the chest at the end of their bed. "Grieving?"

"We all grieve in different ways," Cal supplied.

Gillian gave a faint smile. "I know. But it's somehow different telling someone that and experiencing it."

"It's not like it wasn't entirely unexpected," Cal tried. "I mean, she'd been in the hospital and her docta said it was unlikely she'd fully recova."

"I know," Gillian nodded.

"I'm kind of out at this point," Cal gestured helplessly.

Gillian turned towards the furniture again and let the towel slip from her body. She dressed silently, looking thoughtful and Cal watched her, searching for something else to say...