A/N: For the general setting of the story see the A/N of the prologue.

First of all let me say THANK YOU for the warm welcome back after the hiatus. It was truly wonderful.

I re-wrote this chapter a gazillion times and hope that it was worth it and that you will like the outcome. It is the expected Cal/Gillian talk about her miscarriage, and thus, all about angst and comfort. The following chapters will be more light-hearted as we near the end of the story.

The usual disclaimer applies (see prologue).

- Moving On (sort of) -

She shouldn't have told him that way. It was so stupid. The moment Gillian came in at her door after her appointment with Burns, she called Cal, prepared to finally talk to him. Her intention had been to invite him over to tell him the reason why she had needed some time for herself, not throw the words at him over the phone. But it was so good to hear his voice and moreover his relief that the self-imposed period of separation was over that all it took was Cal's hint that he couldn't wait to see her and get to know everything to make her blurt out the words.

"I had a miscarriage."

It was textbook psychology 101. No matter how ready she had felt to be confronted with his guilt, she had told him over the phone so that she would not have to see his initial reaction face to face. It was stupid and all the more unprofessional. She is a psychologist; this should not have happened. However she couldn't unsay the words that were followed by his silence fraught with meaning.

"God, Cal. I'm so sorry. I didn't want to tell you over the phone..."

He interrupted her, "I'm coming over." Then he ended the call just as the realization hit her that, considering her field of expertise, the pain she had heard in his voice will haunt her even more than the look on his face would have been able to.

When Gillian hears Cal's car pull up outside with squealing tires, she opens the front door so that it is ajar and walks back inside, half expecting him to come running, out of breath, and accusing her of withholding the information for so long. He doesn't. His steps are determined but slow. Cal stops a few steps away from her. She can't tell whether he is angry or hurt. Probably both, but Gillian can't read him like he can read her. Talk, she thinks desperately, so that the tone of your voice reveals what you're feeling.

"It wasn't mine."

Composure. At least that's what he is going for. In absolute terms, it could have been his child. But the pregnancy would have been in such an early stage that the blood test probably wouldn't have verified it. Cal has a child. He knows such things, obviously needs to clear up the facts first although Gillian heard his voice slightly quaver; it is hard for him to bottle his emotions up. Either way, she will let him deal with it the way he wants. So facts first, emotions later.

"No, it wasn't," she confirms.

"Did you tell Alec?"

"No."

Gillian thought about it, of course, but decided against it in the end because it would have come to no good for neither of them. Telling him if she still had been pregnant would have been a necessity, telling him about his loss felt cruel and useless.

Cal shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, swaying back and forth, avoiding eye contact. "So, um, how did it happen?"

And there it is. A tension in his voice so thick that it feels as if she could cut each word into slices. He knows, but he needs to hear it from her. Let alone that he asked how it happened, not why, because every why has a cause, someone who is responsible, whereas every how is just an occurrence. Gillian is sorry, so sorry, and glad that she has waited until now. She wouldn't have been able to stand his pain and guilt some days ago when it all was fresh and hurting like a gaping wound. At least Cal didn't ask her if she had known that she was pregnant, trusts her that she would have told him.

"At that early stage of a pregnancy, any number of things can go wrong," Gillian states, feeling her way to the words she actually needs to say, "but in my case the miscarriage was caused by the fall." She has to bring herself not to soften the facts. Telling Cal anything but the harsh truth would do more harm than good in the long run, no matter how tempting it is now.

Cal doesn't respond, keeps studying the floor albeit his movements have stopped. Then he meets Gillian's eyes, his face a distorted mask of guilt, as he tilts his head back from below. The way he hunches his shoulders at the same time makes it look all the more weird, as if he wants to disappear into his body.

"I don't know what to say," he admits so quietly that she is barely able to make out his words.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything."

Gillian is grateful that he didn't say he's sorry, that he instinctively knew to not use this empty phrase that is way too less to match her pain and his guilt. She lets the silence linger after her response even if it is uncomfortable for both of them. There are no words that will make this better. The gaping wound she had in her heart some days ago and that slowly has started to heal – Cal is feeling it right now.

She flinches when his body suddenly jumps in motion. Cal turns around and walks toward her front door. Gillian is so surprised that she doesn't react immediately; she didn't expect that. But just when she decides to follow him – because he can't seriously consider to leave, or can he? – she hears him open the door and slam it shut hard. Then again and another time. He didn't leave. He only needed an outlet for his feelings. It reminds her of the scene in prison when he did something similar after he'd had to fake attack her to save her. He hit the door with his fists as if he wanted to hit and punish himself instead. The way he behaves now implies that he is even more affected; he is almost in a daze.

"We didn't know," Gillian says to his back. "Neither of us is to blame. It just happened, and I needed some time to deal with it on my own before I could tell you because I knew you would blame yourself."

Eventually Cal turns around to face her. "T'was my fault. I'm to blame, have no idea how you can not blame me. You want to be a mother."

His last sentence makes her hold her breath. They didn't explicitly talk about children, let alone having them together, but he must have caught it sometime when the subject was touched upon. It's true. Nevertheless, she doesn't blame him. Weeks later, when they will have another talk about the subject, Gillian will wonder why it didn't occur to her to tell Cal about the rest right then and there, about the sword of Damocles in the form of more tests that have to be done to find out whether the miscarriage caused so much damage that she will never be able to have children. For now, though, she loses sight of the big picture without even realizing it. The recesses of heart and mind have their own rules.

"You're right. I want to have children some day; I want to be a mother. Still I don't blame you," she assures him. "And I will repeat it as often as you need to hear me say it."

Cal doesn't move, seems to be frozen in shock. Gillian understands him, knows that he will need time to deal with it as well as she needed time to deal with it some days ago and still does. A thing like that doesn't go away within a couple of days or weeks, if ever. But he has to meet her halfway. Cal blames himself. That doesn't change the fact, though, that ultimately it was her loss. This can't be mainly about him. She will comfort him if he comforts her. She won't devote herself to him while he wallows in self-pity and ignores her as she did it too many times for Alec in the past.

She probably wouldn't even think about things like that if it wasn't for her unhealthy relationship with her ex-fiancé. Howsoever, a burnt child dreads the fire. She can't get the images out of her head how she used to comfort and encourage Alec when he felt down for whatever reason whereas he rarely reciprocated the favor. Gillian knows Cal is not Alec, but she needs to be sure. No matter how much pain it will cause her, she will ask him to leave otherwise and...

"How are you?" Cal asks. "Are you in pain?"

Gillian didn't realize how deeply Alec's lacking affection had hurt her in the past until she hears Cal's question. Simple words, and yet, so meaningful. She swallows and tries to concentrate, doesn't want him to misinterpret her reaction.

"From the miscarriage? No. Aside from that – yes, but it's getting better every day."

She takes one step in his direction. Verbally he already met her halfway. As if he instinctively understands what this is about, Cal takes a step in her direction, too, probably is reading her to find his way through this complicated and tense situation. Gillian doesn't mind. They have to take on all the help either of them can get – she relies on his voice just as he relies on her face.

Cal's hand reaches out to touch hers carefully. "Thank you." For not blaming him even if he will continue to blame himself; they both know that.

"No need to thank me. Whatever it takes," Gillian uses the words Cal said to her right before he told her he loves her, her reference a reminder to their mutual feelings. As fresh as it is, their love is a given by now. A strong connection. Considering what happened, especially the latest events, they wouldn't be here, still together, without it.

"You forgot to call me darling," Cal says, recognizing his words. His lips try to smile but don't dare to do so yet.

"Be careful what you ask for," she replies, and when she is not afraid to smile, Cal joins in. "Want some tea? I have your favorite flavor."

Of course, she does.

There is so much he wants to tell her – from the good news that there won't be an investigation to everything that led to his crazy plan (except her being the reason for it; Cal wants to stick to his intention to leave her in the dark about that small but important fact; there is enough blame and guilt whirling around already). He won't tell her anything right now though. Can't. Not as long as his thoughts and feelings are all over the place.

Cal is grateful that Gillian doesn't blame him. She truly doesn't; he saw it in her face even if he still can't believe it. But when he closes his eyes, all he is able to see are images of her falling down and hitting the ground hard although he didn't actually see it when it happened.

Gillian has snuggled up against him on the couch and seems to be as content as one can be considering the situation. She is not naive, knows that he struggles with his guilt. They both do in one way or the other. She may or may not be ahead of him healing-wise, given that she has had five more days to deal with the knowledge of her miscarriage, but this is not a competition who suffers the most.

Their cups of tea are standing on the coffee table. Cal watches the steam until he feels a welcome numbness set in, her warm body against his making him sleepy. It's the best he can hope for on a day like this. Despite the slightly better mood they were in at the end of their talk, it didn't last long as far as he was concerned; he expected nothing else. With a mother who committed suicide, Cal is an expert when it comes to guilt – justified or not. It doesn't go away just because Gillian doesn't blame him.

So when Cal tells her a couple of days later about the scrapped investigations and the details of his trap, he doesn't add that his nightmares have become worse, that he wakes up every night, hearing her scream as she falls down. Cal is convinced that he will get past this. He has gotten past everything life has thrown at him so far. Being with Gillian is more than he hoped for in between when he feared the aftermath of the explosion had torn them apart for good. He won't screw this up.

The moment Gillian comes in after work, Cal knows this is the day she will address things. Her tense body, her strained smile. He cooked dinner and she wants to hold out until after; Cal can tell. But when she almost drops the salt as she takes it out of the kitchen cupboard to put it on the table, he gives up feigning ignorance. It is of no use. She knows that he knows.

"Nervous, luv? Want to talk to me about something?"

It's been three weeks to a day since Gillian told him about her miscarriage. On the surface, everything is back to normal. They both work every day. She goes to her office; he does research, mostly from home. They've settled for his place to stay there together most of the time, simply because it's bigger and offers more options. Gillian has started to furnish an own study so that she can bring some of the paperwork and does not have to stay at the office that long. The time they spend together outside of work is characterized by cautious optimism, the will to move forward and leave everything behind that happened in the past and has the potential to put a strain on them. Gillian has been tolerating that Cal treats her much more carefully than she prefers, as if she was fragile and could break into a thousand pieces right in front of his eyes at any given moment. He is aware that she has been waiting for his behavior to change, for his guilt to abate, but it hasn't happened so far. Not that he hasn't been trying. So everything back to normal is just the surface. Beneath it, the tectonic plates have been shifting constantly, and now the earthquake is about to take place.

"We can't go on like this, Cal. I can't."

It is one of the many things he loves about her. Gillian wears her heart on her sleeve, at least in private. She has no trouble getting emotional in front of him whereas he is just the opposite. Cal tends to harden himself in emotionally difficult situations – outwardly as well as inside. It is a learned behavior that is grounded in the suicide of his mother, an effort of his subconsciousness to protect himself against impending emotional fallout. Being aware of the reason for his behavior and being able to change it are two entirely different matters. He loves Gillian – a little more, every day – whereas from her perspective it probably looks as if he has been retreating. As a psychologist, she most likely assumes the catalyst for it since she knows about the death of his mother, and as a voice expert, she for sure is able to hear his love for her in his voice even if he behaves to the contrary. As a woman, though, this is not enough. Not when she has been waiting for a sign that a change is in sight for weeks and went away empty-handed each day. His guilt overshadows everything and slowly but surely suffocates their relationship. Gillian is standing in front of him, wringing her hands in the attempt to find the right words. Cal can't get rid of the imagination how her warmth expands and flows through the room, reaching out to him, only to be rejected by his hardness, as if his body was surrounded by ragged cliffs waiting to cut her kindheartedness up. It is no pretty image.

"I know," he eventually agrees. It makes no sense to deny it. They can't go on like that.

"Have you...," she pauses. "Have you thought about getting help?"

Cal doesn't answer, too caught up in his thoughts. He knows that Gillian visits Dave Burns, the hospital psychologist. There are longer time lags between her appointments these days than in the beginning; she will probably stop seeing him soon. Cal has no prejudices against seeking professional help if need be; he just never did it regarding himself. The suicide of his mother, undercover assignments, his life in danger more than once, and yet, aside from mandatory PTSD counseling, Cal never appealed to a psychologist for help. His entire being strives against it. How can Gillian act in such a kindly manner and be so strong? And how can he act tough and be so weak?

"It's not about you being weak, Cal," she tries to convince him, hitting home by accident. Gillian approaches Cal to caress his face tenderly, tilting her head sideways in the process, the way she does it when her focus is on nothing but him. "You are a strong man, but every strong man has a weakness and... I don't want to sound presumptuous, but I think I'm your weakness, and you have to learn how to bend so as not to break."

It sounds so easy. Get help, talk to someone, and things will get better. But there is something else. Another reason why he couldn't forgive himself as yet aside from his obstinate self that refuses to listen to sensible reasoning by default. Gillian doesn't blame him for her miscarriage; she made that abundantly clear and Cal has no reason to doubt it. Even so, there were brief moments in weeks past when she was... different. Just the smallest aberration from what would have been normal – an indecision that took the split of a second longer than it should have, a shadow that flitted across her face before she smiled at him. Someone without Cal's profound knowledge of micro expressions wouldn't have noticed it. Although she doesn't blame him for her miscarriage, Gillian blames him for something and he doesn't know what it is. While Gillian has been waiting for him to come to terms with his guilt, Cal has been waiting for her to tell him about that something so that he can.

"Don't take this the wrong way, luv," he says. "I'd never downplay your loss, never, you know that, but perhaps it is the tiniest bit easier for you to deal with the situation in spite of everything because it wasn't your fault but mine." Hands, underlining his words. An attempt at an explanation and more. Cal hopes to get a reaction from Gillian.

Her eyes darken. "What makes you think I don't believe it was my fault? You don't have the exclusive right to guilt."

"What do you mean?" It affects Cal that he didn't know she was blaming herself. How did he not see that whereas he saw that she blamed him? The exclusive right to guilt. The words sting him, but apparently they are true, no matter how much he dislikes it. Is he that predictable? Or is she that good? Probably a little of each. He was so focused on his guilt that he didn't see hers. It wasn't your fault but mine. His words were meant to entrap her to reveal what she blames him for although Cal assumes that Gillian doesn't even do it consciously. Her answer wasn't what he was looking for; however, it is something else she held back until now and he needs to know. If she tells him about that, maybe one thing will lead to another and she will tell him everything.

For now, though, Gillian doesn't seem to be inclined to tell him anything. She takes a deep breath.

"We have to come clean with each other," he urges her.

Another deep breath. Then. "I feel guilty for not knowing that I was pregnant and falling in love with you. If I had known, things probably would have proceeded differently."

She wouldn't have slept with him. It is the first thing that comes to Cal's mind. He remembers that evening; the images accurate in every detail. The way she loosened the belt of her wrapping dress and offered herself to him. Gillian wouldn't have done that if she had known that she was pregnant with another man's child. Not because she would not have wanted him but because she would have changed her order of priorities. She is right. Things would have proceeded differently. Perhaps they still would have gotten together, but it would have taken longer. Long enough so that she would not have become the target of Sean Haige's threats. Or perhaps Sean Haige wouldn't have found him at all. Who's to say? The butterfly effect. Cal gets dizzy when faced with the possibilities. However, it is of no use to feel guilty of things in hindsight that she didn't know about in advance, torturing herself with what ifs when all there is and ever will be is the present.

"So how do you deal with it, your guilt?" he asks.

Gillian holds his gaze. "My love for you outweighs my guilt."

Cal didn't expect that. An explanation as simple as comprehensible. We weigh arguments, make lists of pros and cons, but in the end, love is the determinant. Gillian intertwines her fingers with his, and Cal raises her hand to his lips, kissing it. The look on her face is open, loving; she doesn't intend to hide anything from him, and yet, she does and he has to find out what it is.

"Anything else?" Cal asks. He hates that he has to disrupt their moment of closeness. They haven't been so near for a while.

He can tell that she is about to say no when it happens. Cal sees the exact moment Gillian's facial expression changes from tenderness over insight to anguish. She realized something, something that throws her off balance. Gillian might have thought that everything was fine when it comes to her feelings for him, but her sudden realization thwarted that.

"What?" Cal insists. "Tell me."

Gillian desperately tries to hide her thoughts and feelings from him. Her pokerface is better than the average one, but she has no chance against Cal's skills even if he feels them fading away regarding her. The closer they get, the more she becomes his blind spot.

"You have to tell me," Cal tries again, taking a step forward so that she would have to step back in order to avoid them being in each other's personal space. She doesn't. A shiver runs through Gillian.

"It's not important," she whispers.

Now that's a lie if he ever heard one. She apparently has her reasons why she doesn't want to tell him, but unimportance is not one of them. Quite the opposite, he'd say. Cal snorts although it is redundant. Gillian knows that she can't lie to him of all people. Nevertheless, she shakes her head and eventually steps back, away from him, or at least tries to because he won't let her, gently grabbing her arms to keep her at close range.

"Don't push me, Cal." She is so desperate by now, a desperation he recognizes and that goes way beyond the need to protect herself. She wants to protect him, doesn't want to fuel his guilt even more. That's why she refuses to tell him.

"What is it, Gill? Don't hold back, luv. It will cost us dear if you do."

She swallows, straightening herself and wiping away a single tear. Whatever it is, she blocked it out so that she didn't even notice herself how deeply hurt she is. Then she holds his gaze again as she did when she told him that her love for him outweighs her guilt, her fingers grasping his so tightly that it's almost painful.

"They need to do some tests in a couple of weeks to see whether I will still be able to have children."

Gillian says more. Something along the lines of that she is convinced everything will be fine and that he shouldn't worry. Cal, however, only hears fragments, aware that she says most of it to soothe him as well as herself. If there have to be more examinations, the doctors are not sure, and that means there is an actual risk that his actions not only led to her miscarriage but also to the possibility that she might never be able to have children. He did this to her. And Gillian wanted so much to not blame him that her subconsciousness chose to withhold the information as long as possible. In a way, she was right to do so. The guilt he felt before just was a foretaste to what Cal is feeling now – a dark wave, pulling him under water. He is not sure if he will ever be able to come up to gasp for air again.

"Cal?" Gillian touches his face with both hands to make him focus as she continues to talk to him, but right now he can't stand her touch, can't understand why she would want to touch him in the first place.

He pushes her hands away harshly, registering the hurt look on her face only as a sideline. The dark wave keeps pushing him around under water. Her revelation was supposed to make him feel better. Cal wants to move on. He might not be able to forgive himself; he wants to be able to handle his guilt, though, so that he can see beyond it. But this? How is he supposed to handle this?

Just as he wouldn't let her get away minutes ago, she does the same now. Gillian closes the distance between them and hugs Cal to herself before he can push her away another time. She doesn't cry albeit he feels her body tremble. His arms hug her back of their own accord.

"Don't let this tear us apart." Her words are a whisper next to his ear.

Cal wonders whether the words are meant to convince him or herself. By all means, her physical approach has managed to bring him back to the here and now. Their closeness achieves something mere words could not, at least not at the moment. They both calm down; acceptance starts to set in. They can't change the horrible things that already happened to them and possibly will happen in the future. This acceptance is accompanied by the certainty, however, that those things don't have to define them. The core of their relationship is not loss or pain but trust and strength. My love for you outweighs my guilt. Gillian Foster is a wise woman. He can consider himself lucky to have her at his side. Perhaps he can learn from her how to forgive himself.

"I won't." It is not easy to speak. Cal's thoughts are still racing, but the words came out by themselves, an instinctive response to Gillian's plea. No matter how bad this is, no matter how bad he is feeling right now - letting what happened tear them apart is the one price he isn't willing to pay even if he doesn't know as yet how to come to terms with it. Cal feels the tension leave her body, warmth and affection softening her rigid posture.

Gillian leans back to look at him. "I did not realize how much this affected me. I believed it was just your guilt that was wearing us out."

"Always takes two to tango, luv." If he wasn't the man he is, her subconsciousness wouldn't have convinced her to hide the information from him for weeks.

A few minutes ago, when that dark wave was toying with him, Cal was tempted to tell Gillian that she was the main reason he came up with the trap and was willing to sacrifice his life in the execution of the plan. That he was ready to let Emily grow up without a father because he chose her, a woman he had met only a few weeks ago, over his daughter. The darkness around him was so thick and impenetrable in that brief moment that the only way out seemed to be to tell her and make her guilt and pain match his own. But their physical and emotional connection erased those thoughts or at least pushed them to the back of his mind. Cal won't tell Gillian, not now. It would merely add to her anguish and she doesn't deserve that on top of it all. Some day, he might not get out of telling her. Perhaps Gillian will ask him more specifically about his plan and catch the lie in his voice or perhaps she even will be able to read him by then and will find out that way, who knows. But not today. Regarding their coming clean with each other, what was said is as far as it goes.

Cal gently kisses Gillian before he clasps her in his arms, his double standards only slightly bothering him, if at all. That is the man he is – fiercely protective towards the people he loves and relentless towards himself. Gillian is about to change him for good, but that won't happen overnight. These character traits are and will always be embedded in his genes. Saving her life didn't come without a price. The people he killed. Her injuries. Cal has to remind himself that she is alive; that was the whole point. If there is one person most qualified to protect her, even or especially if it means keeping a secret from her for her own good, then it's him. So in a twisted way, things are exactly the way they were meant to be.

To be continued

Just in case: I didn't forget that Gillian recommended therapy to Cal. It will come up again.

Thank you to everyone who is still here and still reading this. I appreciate it very much.