Chapter 11 Doll Parts part 2

Thank you all again for the kind words of encouragement it means a lot Trigger warnings again for this chapter, lighter and fun chapters to follow I promise.

It stands for knife, for the rest of my life. Someday you will ache like I ache. -Doll Parts by Hole.

They sat in silence in Gillian's car as they drove to her house. The Manila folders were tucked under Cal's arm as he reclined fully in the passenger seat. Opening the folder and pulling out the photo of the man that was at her home on Saturday night. Looking at it and holding it out to show her the image.

"Young one, wasn't he? What was he, twenty two, twenty three?" pulling up to her house and putting the car in park.

"didn't know I needed to card the men that come over before they come in." Closing her eyes and scrunching her nose in a pained expression of embarrassment at her unfortunate phrasing.

Cal watched her mouth open in shock at her word choice. Getting out of the car, Cal joined her as she walked to the front door.

Now drunkenly laughing at her flushed red cheeks of embarrassment but stinging from the wave of jealousy coursing through his body. "That was either a poor choice of words…or more honest than what you planned on luv."

Not bothering to look at him, saving herself from further embarrassment. She unlocked her front door as she made her way to the kitchen. Cal's eyes followed her every step, taking in her body as she bent over to pull items out of the fridge. "Just more whiskey for me," he waved, finally breaking eye contact from her backside. He began pacing around her home.

"You need to eat Cal. You didn't eat anything today. You have nothing but coffee and whiskey in you." she slammed down a frying pan, getting increasingly frustrated with him.

Making his way to her bedroom door, opening it, and looking inside before returning back to the kitchen.

"Speaking of things in you…" he teased with a biting edge, watching her movements in the kitchen.

Rolling her eyes at him, her face the picture of utter annoyance. "Where did you meet this fella... on the playground?" "asking playfully but with a thick undercurrent of jealousy running through it.

"Spin class," she said flatly. Adding sausages to the frying pan and cooking them.

"didn't want to get rusty , was it?" He added with a biting tone. giving her a devilish grin.

Not even bothering to look up from what she was doing, reaching in her cabinet, grabbing a bottle of whiskey, and pouring a large glass.

Coming over to grab it from her hand, she pulled it close to herself. "not happening" drinking it in one swig. "You need to sober up. This morning's coffee is still in the pot," she signaled to the stale coffee pot on the counter. Returning her gaze back to the frying pan on the stove.

Cal grabbed a mug and poured the old coffee, reaching for the whiskey and adding a splash. "Irish coffee it is," he said, taking a swig from the cup and continuing his observation of her. "not really your style to pick up men in general, especially one so young."

"I didn't pick him up. He's a friend from class –"

" and to welcome him into your bed s-"

"it wasn't in bed," she said, flatly cutting into him. His eyes almost bugged out of his head in a state of shock. mouth agape as he looked at her.

Grabbing eggs from the carton and cracking them in the pan. "We all have needs, Cal." Using his past words against him. Cutting him deeply like a knife.

"So this guy is a 'need filler' then eh?" His jealousy rose in him as his words filled with anger.

"I'm not searching for someone to love me right now. So yes, he fulfills a need... On occasion, when I'm wanting more, then…me"

"Not happening in bed means you didn't want it personal... …didn't want it to be more than it was, am I right with that assessment?" watching her face and seeing he hit the nail on the head with his assessment.

"So where was it then ?" getting up and walking around her living room. "Couch? Kitchen table maybe?" he was irate, fueled by pure jealousy. The green monster possessing his body in its current state. Unable to keep his internal thoughts in check as they fell out of his mouth as the whiskey he had ingested removed all barriers.

Grabbing plates from above and plating their dinner. Growing tired of his badgering and pestering and sipping on another glass of the amber liquid. Looking him in the eyes as she spoke. "Wall actually…and floor…. Feel better knowing that, Cal?"

Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. "Worse actually," he said solemnly.

"You have no right to judge… You have more one night stands than anyone I have ever met. Mr.sexual ADD…. And you're sleeping with Zoe again…far from the moral police. Now Eat." Handing him a fork. Seeing the clear annoyance and frustration on her features He knew she was right; he had no right to pass judgment on her. Finally breaking eye contact and seeing the plate in front of him.

"Did you make me a fry up?" looking down at his plate of sausage eggs, beans, toast, and a fried tomato.

"You need something to soak up that bottle of whiskey you drank….and I need something to soak up the whiskey I'm going to need to drink to deal with you tonight." drinking another sip of whiskey before eating a couple bites of dinner.

Scarfing down his plate, sitting in silence as they ate together. Finishing his last bite and turning to look at her. She was trying to eat but only taking a few bites, never one to eat when upset.

"Why didn't you tell me you had to take out a no contact order against Alec?"

Getting up grabbing the plates, and washing the dishes. "Why didn't I tell Cal Lightman, the man who followed my ex husband when you expected him of cheating. Who you already despise. That I had to get a no contact order in place? ... We both know what you would have done. You would have threatened him or worse-"

"Your bloody right, I would ha-" he yelled, his anger pulsating through him.

"You would have made it worse! Or done something foolish to land yourself in jail. He was hurting when I left. He didn't handle my leaving well. He was calling insistently, coming to my home-"

Clenching his hands into a fist and breathing deeply, he was infuriated at the man and angry with her for hiding it from him. He could have put a stop to it if she had let him.

"I took care of it, Cal, I got the order, he stopped. End of story. He was hurt and angry and needed time to process….and I needed him out of my life."

"I could have put a stop to it," he said, gritting his teeth.

"You don't need to fight my battles for me. If things got worse, I would have told you-"

"But you bloody well didn't, did you?! You hid it from me; you hid your twenty year old fuck buddy; you hid your past; you lied about Doyle. " Getting into her face as he yelled. Raising her chin up in a show of defiance and resilience as he tore into her. "That pretty mouth of yours can do more than speak French and keep me awestruck. It can be a deceitful mouth… full of half truths." His anger faltered as he realized the effects his words had on her. Feeling guilty as he solemnly added, "I thought we were closer than that, luv."

Her eyes watered, she hadn't let herself cry over him for so long, but she was at her breaking point. He was being cruel and volatile, trying to hurt her and tear her apart. He was beyond angry; he was enraged, and he was enraged at her.

"Is there anything else you want to disparage about me tonight?" He didn't speak; he just searched her face. Seeing the pure agony he had inflicted on her Breathing shakily he took a step back, watching her. Turning around and leaving Cal standing in the kitchen, she made her way to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

"Fuck!" flailing his arm out before balling his fist in frustration. Walking to the couch and throwing himself onto it. Running a shakey hand through his hair, he grabbed the folder. Looking at the contents again.

Hearing the bedroom door open minutes later, Gillian walked out, fresh faced make up gone, looking so beautiful and youthful. She had changed her clothes into pajamas—a long white tank top dress resting mid thigh with slits running up the side a few inches. Fuzzy white slippers on her feet. She was braless, and he could not help but stare, running his eyes up and down her body. Pulling his eyes from her form. This is not the time to look at your best friend like a piece of meat, mate. Is she doing this to distract you from your anger at her? It's working if it is.

She walked to the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of whiskey, before coming over to sit on the couch. Grabbing a blanket off the back and wrapping it around herself, covering her body from his gaze.

Ok, maybe she's not doing it to distract me if she's cocooning herself in that blanket.

Opening the bottle and taking a swig. She looked at the folder in his hand before closing her eyes and resting her head on the back of the couch, inhaling deeply.

"Tell me what happened."

"You have already read what happened. What's it matt-"

"It bloody well matters! You should have been able to tell me by now, but no, you forced your little line-"

"You never tried to talk about it again!" Snapping at him, her calm demeanor threatened to fall, with her frustration coming through.

"I was respecting your goddamn line you drew between us!" matching her frustration with his own.

"That was a short conversation years ago; don't give me that. You didn't try again because you wanted to keep living your life with the perfect version of me that you created. The innocent Gillian Foster who reads romance novels, drinks slushies, and eats pudding. Didn't want to think of me in any other way. Besides one of innocents, purity, something to protect." Taking another long sip of the whiskey. Looking at his shocked features. Doing her best to keep her breathing steady and calm.

Staring at the bottle in her hand to ignore the fact that she's spot on in her self defense. Since the moment he met her, she disarmed him with her purity and innocence. Feeling guilt for dragging someone so inherently good into his dark world. Doing all he could to protect her from anything that would destroy that part of her. Unsure if that really was the reason he didn't pry for more information from her at the time. Did he not want to view her as something other than the pure and perfect woman he held on such a high pedestal? Or was it in fact, him being respectful of her line?

"Tell me, Gillian." Inhaling deeply and closing her eyes with a sigh.

"My mother got me into ballet when I was four years old. She was a world-renowned dancer. She stopped when she got pregnant with me. She had me join the same academy she went to. Her old dance partner was one of the instructors." Not looking at him, but looking at the ceiling as she spoke.

"Warner Milloy?" Hearing the man's name caused her to close her eyes and deeply sigh, letting out a steady breath.

"That's right," she said, grabbing the bottle and taking a large swig. She continued.

"He was a brilliant dancer and instructor. All of his students became remarkable dancers. He was great when I was young caring loving. When I was around 8…. He changed; he had interesting methods of teaching….he would put broken glass on the stage where we were not supposed to step. If we went out of place… It would inbed into our point shoes and make its way in- cutting us… we would bleed from it soaking our shoes, but that was the price of perfection he would say."

Taking another large swig of the whiskey, he could see her features softening from the effects of the drink. As he became more sober from the coffee and dinner. His anger was growing for the man who hurt the child version of his best friend. Softening for her as he heard her story. Grabbing the coffee cup on the table and taking a drink. Watching her as she continued speaking.

"I told my mother, and she said that their old teacher had the same methods to teach them to dance in the correct place. I was being ungrateful for the opportunity to learn from such a master. …I told my father I didn't want to dance any more, and that made things worse at home. My father and mother would fight, she would always win, and then he would start drinking ." Staring at the bottle in her lap, shaking her head sadly.

"They forced you to keep doing it even though you didn't want to? Even though you asked to stop?" She rarely talked about her mother, he knew of her father's alcoholism, but seldom spoke of her mother.

"She forced me to stay, said that I would be grateful one day. My father just did what my mother wanted, tired from the fights it would cause. " "Mr. Milloy demanded perfection, wooden dowels behind our backs for Posture. He wore a mask covering his lower mouth. We could not tell if he was pleased or angry. We would just pray we did it right. If we fell out of line or did something incorrect, he would grow violent…"

Jesus Christ, a wooden dowel? That explains her perfect posture…wearing a mask; that's why she is so good with voices, she had to be.

"Around the time I turned thirteen, that's when things changed. I was at the top of the class, body changing. My mother didn't let me eat anything with sugar; she said I needed to maintain the perfect body of a ballerina."

Pudding, slushies , sweets, food her mother would not let her eat…

"One day Mr. Milloy had me stay after class and said that I showed such promise that he wanted me to do a solo for the upcoming show. He …he said the solo was a normally adult lead dance, and I should feel honored to be asked at such a young age. I practiced and practiced, but I wasn't getting it to the level he wanted, and he said something was missing from my movements. In order to perform like an adult, I needed to become an adult-"

No…no no no please no-

"He grabbed at me and asked if I had started touching myself yet. I had no idea what that even meant at the time. He told me to go home that night and practice, it was my homework….our next session, he asked if I did it, and I lied and said I did. He said I still wasn't getting the dance right and was growing angry with my mistakes. He took me to his office, he kept his mask on, and…." Tears fell from her eyes freely. "You can assume what happened…I was an adult now. When I danced again, he said I was pure perfection. He would touch my long curls in my hair and tell me I was his perfect little doll."

Listening to her tell the story, overwhelmed by emotions, Cal's eyes watered, and tears of his own threatened to spill over. He wanted to touch her and hold her, but her body was tucked into itself, guarding herself from any touch.

"He would do it before solos and performances, saying that it was a gift. That he was what allowed me to be such a remarkable ballerina."

Fucking monster, to do something so appalling to a child and to say it's a bloody gift? growing sick to his stomach, wanting to vomit after hearing such horrors being told. He closed his eyes, praying for the nausea to subside.

"I told my father what was happening when I got older. Thinking everyone else must have been given the same 'gift'… maybe it was normal. Realizing it was not the case, I told my dad. He was a cop for the NYPD. We drove straight down to the precinct and filed a report. My father told my mother. She slapped me across the face when she saw me. Said she didn't believe me, said that I must have slept with him, and felt so guilty that I was trying to ruin his reputation. Warner was a good man, and he would never force himself on anyone. I must have been the aggressor and gone after him. That her daughter was a whore who slept with her teacher to get more solos…. She told Warner about the report I filed. " The tears finally stopped, and she looked at Cal, offering him the whiskey. With a shake of his head no as she drank more. He needed to be as sober as possible to listen to this and read her face.

"Warner and my mother were friends with a lot of people in high places, including the chief of police. My father's superior, who threatened to fire my dad if the charges were not dropped. They made their choice as to who to believe, the alcoholic's daughter or their friend. My mother told me that my father would lose his job because of me … that I needed to retract everything and apologize." Chuckling coldly at the disgusting request of her mother

"Which I did to protect my dad's job. My father stopped drinking after that. Said that if he wasn't a drunk, they wouldn't have been able to use that against him. That he blamed himself."

That's why he stopped drinking; he was trying his best to atone for his past…thinking of his own daughter, the thought causing a deep, crushing sadness within him as a father.

" I had one final performance after I retracted everything. After I finished my solo, I bowed and went immediately backstage. I put my hair into a ponytail and chopped it off, throwing it at my mother and Mr. Milloy to their horror. Didn't want to be his doll ever again. Its why I keep my hair short, why I don't wear my natural curls... ...feel better knowing the whole truth of my past Cal?"

"Better is far from how I feel, darling…that monster got away with it?"

"That he did."

"And your mother protected him over you?"

"That she did," she said, a condescending chuckle escaping her at the disgusting actions of her mother. Looking him in the eyes, showing guilt on her face.

"I'm sorry for not telling you the whole truth, Cal…for hiding behind our line. Your right, we are closer than that, I should have told you."

"I shouldn't have... This isn't how it should have gone. You should have been able to tell me when you were ready. Not when I forced it from you. Acting a total fool. I'm truly sorry for tonight…I was processing everything and just…reacted. Let my feelings get the best of me, drinking certainly didn't help the case. "

"Reading about it from Perry's investigation rather than me telling you, I'm sure, didn't help."

"It certainly didn't help... When you told me what happened years ago...Its always been in the back of my mind. But I never would have guessed the rest. I never saw the signs…"

"…. After the Jenkins attack…Remember me taking the day off after?" she asked, nodding slowly. "It brought a lot of painful memories back… I always sought for safety in other people. A safe feeling. Going home to Alec and realizing he wasn't that person any more I never told him what happened back then, and I didn't tell him about the Jenkins attack. Not that he would have given it much thought; too high to care. He stopped making me feel safe when he started using again. My home wasn't my home; it was just a place I slept. I packed up a suit case that night and left him."

I didn't even correlate her leaving Alec with the Jenkins mess. How could I be so bloody blind?

"Why didn't you tell me the rest-"

"Remember telling me you wouldn't want me working on cases with abuse? That's when you just knew part of the story…I can help Cal, what happened doesn't define me or lessen my ability to help others. If I told you the rest, you wouldn't be able to differentiate between a normal reaction to a case or because of what happened to me. You wouldn't be able to trust my opinion on cases. I also didn't want you looking at me like you are now…With pity and sadness. I know you, Cal, you wouldn't be able to see anything else but what happened. " Her words started to slur as the effects of the alcohol took hold.

Sliding over to sit next to her, hoping that he was not pushing too much. "I don't pity you, luv…never would, never could. You telling me doesn't change a goddamn thing about how I see you, darling. Please don't think that way." his emotions breaking in his voice, audibly upset.

"It breaks my fuckin' heart to hear, though... Your mother is a real piece of work….and that monster should fry for what he did. He's not still teaching, is he?"

"No, he stopped several years ago, his health took a turn, last I heard."

"He got away with it….he fuckin got away with it-"

"I didn't have a you back then, Cal." The words soft and warm full of love and sadness.

"There was no one I could turn to and say I'm telling the truth. You would have been able to see it, nothing would have been able to stop you…it's one of the reasons I agreed to work with you. If I had a you back then…things would have been different." Resting her head on his shoulder. "I wouldn't be broken like I am." Tears poured from her eyes.

Raising up and placing his hand on her cheek, she rubbed into it. "Don't ever say that, you are not broken, luv. I don't know how the hell you turned out as good and glorious as you are. To experience such an atrocity and still always see the good in people. Still seeing the good in bastards like me. How loving, kind , compassionate-"

His words were cut short as she leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Soft and delicate, a perfect first kiss, but with a sick undercurrent of sadness clouding it.

This shouldn't be how it is, she's kissing me out of sadness and hurt. The large amount of whiskey is also affecting her inhibitions. She's a touchy person to begin with, and drinking always makes her even more handsy. This isn't right.

His thoughts pulled him from her lips. Keeping his hand still on her cheek, he could see the disappointment and rejection overwhelming her features. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, it was over the line…I just…thank you for-" the words rushed out of her, embarrassed by her own actions.

"Don't ever be sorry, luv. If this were under different circumstances, I would-"

I would love to keep kissing you, touching you, make love to you, but I can't. We can't.

Cutting his sentence short and stopping himself for saying too much or something he can't take back. "…Don't be sorry," he said, giving her a small, reassuring smile. "You danced beautifully, by the way…amazing on your feet you are," he tried to change the subject to something else, something lighter after their kiss.

"Even better off them," her seductive tone caused his mouth to gape open in shock at her overt flirting. She leaned in again, kissing him more passionately, tossing the blanket from her lap and straddling his. His hands went to her waist as he returned her kisses with a heated fever and deep desire. His fingers trailed down her small waist to her curved hips and the top of her backside.

' How would you know what I feel like?' Replaying in his mind over and over, controlling his hands to get the answer to the question he had been teased with. Sliding his hand on top of her bare thighs, starting low and moving them dangerously higher.

Now I'm learning what you feel like, toned, soft, warm…Shit shit, this is wrong, this is all wrong. You can't do this. Even if she wasn't drunk or hurting you shouldn't do this; you're going to hurt her. You can't be another man who has let her down and hurt her.

Sliding her hands under his shirt as she kissed the side of his face and down his throat.

' How would you know what I feel like?'

His thumb was drawing circles along her inner thighs.

You need to stop; she will regret this. You will regret this. You will hate yourself for using her in her time of need.

Finally able to snap himself out of the trance she placed over him. Reluctantly removing his hands from the soft, smooth skin of her thighs. He grabbed her hands to stop her from exploring his any further.

"We can't luv, your smashed-"

"Like that would stop you if I were any other woman-" grinding her hips into his. Bending down, she kissed him again as her hands slid out of his grasp, grabbing his belt and tugging it free. Causing a guttural low moan to expel from his lips from her bold move. Sliding down his legs, kneeling in front of him as she undid his pants. Grabbing her arms quickly before she could proceed any more, he pulled her to him. Seeing lust, desire, and sadness in her eyes. A touch of fear of rejection.

"But you're not any other woman, Gil, I'm doing the gentlemanly thing here, darling."

"I don't want you to be a gentleman," she said, kissing him again passionately, causing a deep moan to escape his mouth into hers.

' How would you know what I feel like?' Teasing him again, taunting him. Stop, you can't keep thinking of that; you're making this worse yourself mate.

Biting his lower lip softly as she backed away from his mouth. Sliding back down his legs, resting her hands on his thigh. Trailing her nails on his pant legs as she slowly made her way up his thighs, dangerously close.

She's trying to kill me. And this is gonna kill me to stop. No matter how much I want this. But I need to stop; we can't.

"You're hurting, you want this out of a need for comfort... You will regret it in the morning, darling. You will hate yourself after… and me"

Sitting back on her heels , hands sliding back to a safer territory. Locking eyes with him, looking truly hurt at the suggestion "I could never hate you, Cal," she said, squeezing his thighs as she spoke. He could see the love in her eyes. "never"

"We can't luv…I can't." He could see the sadness and hurt in her at his rejection.

"Zoe?" With almost a whisper, she tilted her head, watching him.

"…No…I won't let myself cause you any more hurt. I'm sorry for all of tonight…I shouldn't have said…I shouldn't have-"

"You had a right to be mad, Cal, and it might not be how I would have liked to have told you. But I do feel better not hiding the truth from you." Giving him a forced, reassuring smile.

Getting up from the ground and standing, she extended her hand. "Come on, we are going to bed," arching his eyebrow at her choice of words. "I promise to keep my hands to myself." Placing her hand over her heart. He could see her hardened nipples under the white of her top. Closing his eyes to not stare.

"I'm going to need a minute luv" Looking down at his pants, then back up at her. Watching as she licked her lips before bending over and placing her hands on his thighs again.

"I could always help-" her voice husky and dripping with arousal.

"In bed now," he all but shouted as she grinned before walking to her bedroom.

Exhaling and closing his eyes, he tipped his head to the back of the couch. England think of England, queen of England. Not Gillians' warm hands on your thighs unbuttoning your pants. England, England. Loker…. There we go.

Getting off the couch and walking to her bedroom. She was sitting up in bed, tapping the spot next to her with a coy smile on her face.

God damn it, why does she have to be so cute?

"Hands to yourself," pointing at her. Biting back a grin and making an x over her heart with her fingers.

"You better…I don't know how much more willpower I have tonight, darling," he said, getting into her bed and laying down. She slid over, holding onto his side as his arm closed around her, holding her in place as her head rested on his chest. He couldn't help but think just how perfectly she fit.

She laughed softly into his chest as she wrapped her leg around him, brushing against his crotch.

"You're bloody well trying to kill me, aren't you?" giving her a soft chuckle doing his best to steady his breathing at her actions.

"Loss of consciousness I've heard… but never death," she said, drawing her leg up over his crotch again and rubbing his chest with her nails.

Stilling her hand with his own. Closing his eyes and exhaling loudly. England think of England. Loker, naked Loker.

"Sleep. Now." The words coming out rough and ragged, causing her to laugh lightly into his chest before dozing off.