So, my dears, thank you for still reading my silly little one-shot collection. This is set somewhere in season 3, so they have a tricky relationship here, dissimilar to my previous chapters with the established one. I hope you will enjoy it as well.

Everything just felt extreme. The daily energy was being spent on failed attempts to compose herself, pushing the vital needs to the bottom, knowing they wouldn't be met anytime soon. This alone corroborated her "saint" portrait. No one doubted how she was going to handle the obstacles thrown her way. This morning started pretty rough. Furthermore, Gillian knew if she didn't eventually take a well-deserved rest, she could explode like a ticking bomb. Not the slightest bit of it seemed psychologically healthy. Three days off — Friday, Saturday, Sunday — were pure heaven on earth. Being her own boss, she should be able to afford a "vacation". Gillian had already called in sick. Now she needed to tell Cal she wouldn't be coming, which she dreaded. Luckily, his voice deception skills lacked strength in comparison, but she witnessed him discover Emily lying on the phone multiple times anyway. She took a deep breath to relax. After a couple of beeps, she heard a familiar accent sending shivers down her spine. She scolded her body mentally.

"Mornin', love."

"Hey, I wanted to warn you that I'm feeling under the weather today, so I decided to stay home for the weekends. I informed the office, I hope it's not too much of a problem."

"I see…"

She sensed the disappointment in his tone, either due to the fact she was calling him last or because she wouldn't be coming to work. Or both.

"You sure you don't need anything?"

"No, Cal, thank you."

"Well, that's a bummer. I can be a really cute nurse, you know. See you on Monday?"

She chuckled. "Yes…yes, you will. Bye, Cal."

"Get well, darlin'."

Gillian hung up and left a sigh. He would bend over backwards if necessary, yet keeping her at arm's length subsequently, never letting go completely, giving her a cold shoulder in self-defense, fleeing the battlefield. Wherefore, whenever their relationship became especially strained, he did his usual Cal maneuver, blunting the edges. He learned the tricks. They had their better times, their simpler times. Putting herself in danger repeatedly only for him to act like her old Cal, the one who wasn't constantly angry with himself, the world, her? Sheer madness. Something needed to be done, though now it sounded super exhausting to conduct on her own. She missed him, she needed him, she…loved him? She fell in love, against all odds. Trying to shake this sensation, Gillian wrote a to-do list: finally reading a new book, followed by a peaceful bath alongside lemongrass candles and sea salt.

A sudden knock on the door startled her later in the evening. The clock on the wall struck nine. She hesitated before opening it, realizing who it might be. The number of people coming unannounced to her house had never been large. Her second wine glass, which she poured not too long ago, did wonders. Unlike a scotch adventure with Ria, this beverage made her insignificantly tipsy, which manifested in boldness.

"Hiya," he said, studying her attentively.

"Hey yourself."

"Alright?" he asked, entering a room. "You look…okay."

"Oh, color me flattered." She gave him a sarcastic smirk.

"Quite a medicine you got there." He coyly gestured to a half-empty (half-full?) bottle on a coffee table, raising his eyebrows, grinning. "Here I am, worrying about you."

He invaded her personal space again, standing mere inches away from her face. She put a distance between them, nudging him. Takes two to tango (a cat plus a mouse).

"I did feel unwell in the morning. I have had a good rest since then."

Half-truth.

"Missed me?"

She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. After they stared into each other's souls in silence, she bypassed him to pick up her drink, going to the kitchen.

"Ouch," he blurted.

"What do you want, Cal?"

"Nothin'."

"Uh-huh," she sipped on wine.

"Checking out on my friend, 'tis all." He touched her by the elbow gently.

Friend… She lost concentration, dropping a glass on the floor, shattering it into a million little pieces, her heart doing the same simultaneously. She tried to catch it, cutting her palm on the shard in the process, wincing in pain.

"Bloody hell, Gillian," he mumbled, carefully kneeling down beside her.

G-i-l-l-i-a-n. The way he stretched each syllable while pronouncing her name.

He tried to assess the damage, but she drew back.

"I'm fine," she cut him off, avoiding his gaze.

"No, you ain't. You're bleeding. Let me see, please," he said tenderly.

She stretched her arm to him.

"C'mon, love, we need to clean the wound." He helped her to her feet carefully, sidestepping the sharp fragments on the floor, leading her to the sink.

"Not a huge gash."

She watched as he moved around, whispering sweet nothings to soothe her, treating her injury. His warm hands on hers involuntarily caused butterflies in her stomach. She hated it. She hated the game they were playing.

"Thanks." The smile didn't reach her eyes.

He followed her to the living room. They sat on the couch.

"What's bugging you today, eh, Fostuh?" He was genuinely taken aback by this conundrum.

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing for months now," she said, fidgeting with her cardigan's fabric.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why are you so angry at me, Cal?"

"'m not."

"Knock it off."

"'m tellin' ya, 'm not".

She looked at him then. For a second, he let his guard down. She was able to catch disappointment, shame, concern.

"One of the first thoughts I have every morning is whether today you will choose to see me as your employee, business partner, friend..or," she trailed off. "I can't take it anymore."

"I care about ya, ya know it."

"Right."

"What d'ya want me to say? That I love ya? Because I do, Gill. I love ya."

"Don't use your mind games on me."

He observed the anger slowly fading into sorrow, and he felt like someone punched him in the gut. Cal cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his face.

"I love ya, Gillian. I fancy ya. Am I lying?"

"I…I don't understand," she gasped. "You've been distant and moody for weeks now. You're always pushing me away."

"I've been dealing with a lot."

"That's not an excuse," Gillian snapped. "You can't just shut me out like this."

"I know," Cal said, his voice softening. "And I'm sorry."

He paused before continuing.

"You deserve a partner who can give you his whole heart, someone who's not carrying so much baggage. I don't want to hold ya back. I've got issues…"

"Cal, I…"

"Don't cut me off, please," he pleaded.

"I hurt those closest to me, I can be a real pain in the arse sometimes. I can't give you everything, Gillian. I'm damaged goods. I'm broken. I'm not sure I'm capable of being the man you need me to be. I'm dragging you down with me. It's not exactly the most glamorous lifestyle. Sink or swim."

"You never cared to ask me before jumping to conclusions? Cal, I don't need someone who's perfect. I just need someone who's honest with me and who's there for me when I need them. You put me on a pedestal, but why? Apparently, if I'm still here, I've seen worse."

"Could it be?"

"I'm not blind. Doesn't mean I'm any less committed to being with you."

"But don't you ever wish for something...easier? Something less complicated than this?"

"I get where you're coming from, but don't you think it's time to take a chance on me?"

"Okay," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll try."

"I know you will." She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Just promise me you won't shut me out again."

"I promise," Cal said, pulling her into his arms. "I'll always be here for you."

"Good. You can start with cleaning up that mess you made me do in the kitchen," she giggled.

"Aye, aye, captain."

He quickly stood up and Gillian grabbed his wrist. "I love you too, Cal."