Happy new year!
Tina: I think here would have really about their friendship being put into question with Gillian shushing him away. She was there for him when his marriage ended, he knows she'll need a friend to get through it and sometimes good friend do things that push your boundaries to help you.
Guest: I know, the website was (still is) a mess for months and I had no idea if this was getting no feedback because of that or somethign else. Still hoping to get more traction, I was hoping this would land well because I ended up loving this project but at this point I think it will really be the last
Now, this one is 'Honey' and sorry, but it's a go!
It was more a wrestling move than a hug, their arms wrapped around each other as if they were trying to tackle the other and prevent them from pulling away too soon. Gillian didn't want to let go, feeling all the tension and the fatigue of the day on his tensed shoulders and back, the strain on his muscles for the awkward positions he had been forced into throughout the day; and Cal simply couldn't, not until he could convince himself that she hadn't spent the past few hours worrying for him all over again, mourning him somehow despite the positive resolution of the day, and until he could be sure that she wasn't going to explode into tears because of him. She'd be more than entitled of course, but he never liked to see her cry and even less to be the cause of those tears…especially when the reason was that his life had been on the line for a full day just before her eyes.
When they both got what they needed out of it they pulled away and ended the hug, exchanging a quick kiss on the cheek as Gillian closed the door behind him. Embodying the meaning of 'make yourself at home', Cal walked over to the kitchen ahead of Gillian and aimed straight for the cabinet where she kept the glasses and the assortment of strong liquor he had educated her to over the years, pouring himself a glass of the first thing he got his hands on and taking a second to look at her as if to ask if she wanted some too. Gillian nodded, she had been thinking about it before he arrived but had decided that drinking alone didn't go well with the way she was feeling, but now she had company and if there was a person it felt right to drink with that night it was definitely Cal.
She came closer and he stretched the hand with the glass to give it to her, but she shook her head and took his whole hand instead, picking up the bottle with the other as they sat at the table. Cal was the first to drink, gulping down half the glass and smirking at the hard hit of whiskey burning his throat, while Gillian quietly sipped from her glass while gently holding his hand. Cal couldn't get over how light and comforting the simple touch was incredibly soothing after he had been man-handled all day, tossed and turned around like a ragdoll, beaten and under constant threat of a firearm endlessly pointed at his head-
Before he knew it, before his brain got up to speed with them, Cal felt his hands move on their own and leave the glass he was holding on to and close around hers instead, holding tight and clasping even harder than how they had hugged earlier. He felt her tense and knew he was holding too tight but he couldn't help himself, same as he couldn't when he leaned forward and awkwardly put his head on her, halfway between her shoulder and neck, breathing in with sudden difficulty as she tried to get hold of him somehow.
Cal knew it was coming, the inevitable breakdown, and it was a miracle that it had taken so long. He had been close to it once or twice, when he had gotten in his car right after leaving the office and then later, when he had hastily pulled the car on the side of the road to take some long breaths before rolling down the window and puking his guts out. How he had gone from that to calling the woman from the speed dating event it was unclear to him, but obviously he wasn't thinking straight then and things had not improved much with his following moves. How could he go from having his brains nearly blown out to flirting with a stranger in a bar within less than two hours? How could he have thought that he could be with anybody else but Gillian after something like that, after she had watched all day wondering how far could Matheson go before pulling the trigger?
Gillian pulled him closer, her free hand gently massaging the back of his neck where the muzzle of the gun had spent so much time during the day, resting her mouth on his hair that probably smelled like sweat, blood and alcohol.
"Let me take a look at your head," she said after a while, although it took Cal a little more to grasp her words.
He pulled away from her slowly, absently touching his own forehead as if he had forgotten about the wound there, then shook his head.
"How about I wash up first?" He half-said half-asked, smirking shyly. "You're far too polite to tell me, but I know I smell horrible."
Gillian sighed, not yet feeling like making light of the situation, but nodded in agreement and left it at that. Cal knew she was never going to admit that he smelled badly, but likely she was just happy that he could recognise he needed to take care of himself. She stood up first and playfully ruffled his hair before heading over to the bathroom, likely to set things up for him and giving him the time to regroup and finish his drink. He did that and downed a second serving before standing up too, feeling a little steadier on his legs as he made his way to the bathroom. On his way there he took off his jacket and left it on the back on the couch, feeling incredibly lighter after the removal of an item he had been wearing for hours and that still seemed to carry the weight of the day he had been through.
Gillian didn't say much and Cal blamed himself for that: he probably looked like a scared and traumatised puppy to her - and felt like one too if he had to be honest - and she worried that one misplaced word or action might have made him run out of the door. He was aware of the fact that him being there gave her as much comfort as it did to him, that she could more easily get over the events of the day if she knew where he was and how he was doing instead of having to wonder what he was up to.
"Are you hungry?" She asked him before leaving the bathroom, and didn't insist when he shook his head. "Let me know if you need anything else."
Cal did his best to smile and nodded, watching her leave the room and close the door. Once alone, Cal didn't think too much about it and undressed, leaving his clothes in a pile on top of the laundry basket before jumping into the shower. The contact with the cold water was shocking but strangely comforting, Cal felt that it was much better to reconnect him with reality rather than the more soothing hot water he usually preferred; he didn't want to be lulled back into the strange passive stupor that had taken over once he had been freed, he wanted to start feeling everything again and be forced to deal with it.
He washed away the fear of the day, caring very little about the fact that he was going to smell of lavender and vanilla, and took his time letting the water run down on him until he felt more like himself. When he was done he stepped out of the shower grabbing one of the many towels that Gillian had lined up for him, wrapped it around his waist and then stood in front of the sink looking at himself in the mirror. There was no layer of condensation to wipe off since he had passed on the classic hot steamy shower, and he smirked at his own reflection as he focused on the wound on his forehead. Now that it was clean of dried blood and dirt it didn't look like anything serious, safe for the pounding pain coming from it when he moved too quickly, but it was clear that it was going to be one hell of a bump.
He wondered if he could pass it as a big pimple with Emily, anything really to avoid telling her what had happened, carefully touching the deformed shape, then sighed and shook his head before looking around, spotting something waiting for him on top of the washing machine.
Cal was honestly baffled, wondering where Gillian might have gotten the men's pants and t-shirts she had left in the bathroom for him without saying a word. He picked up the top and held it with his fingers, judging by the larger side it might be some of Alec's stuff that had ended up in the wrong box when they had separated. Then he looked at his own dirty garments, looking like a pile of dark coal there in the corner, and then back into the mirror. This time, the face he saw staring back at him was that of a man who should not assume any more alcohol, probably be in bed and more likely visit a hospital to have his head checked.
And definitely someone who should be nowhere near a woman willing to look after him, not to force him to talk about it and, for the love of God, who put out four different sized towels for him along with a change of clothes he had no idea where it was coming from.
If leaving the office the way he had had seen had seemed like a good idea, calling the woman from the speed dating somewhat justifiable and finally coming to see Gillian like the best decision of his life, Cal suddenly felt that he had been wrong. Terribly, scaringly wrong.
I shouldn't be here, he had told the sexy woman who was throwing herself at him: he had been right, very right.
"I shouldn't be here," he said again, this time to himself as he looked in the mirror, and he was still very much right.
He wasn't ok, not by any means. He hadn't eaten all day and only assumed alcohol and he was sure that despite him turning down the offer Gillian was putting something together while he was in there; he had just showered and still felt dirty all over again thinking about how welcoming Gillian was even if their last proper conversation before all hell broke loose had been a ugly fight; and every time he closed his eyes he could still feel the gun pointed at his head, hearing Matheson's voice barking commands at him, seeing the barrel of the gun and his manic eyes just behind it, not to mention the worry and fear on everybody's faces, the tears of desperation in Gillian's eyes as she begged for his life…
It was that image that clicked something inside him, along with his own tired face in the mirror. He didn't recognise himself because he wasn't himself and he shouldn't have been there. The realisation hit him and he started to move frantically, getting rid of the towel and bypassing the fresh clean clothes Gillian had prepared for him and going to put back on his own instead. He managed to pause just a moment before leaving the bathroom, thinking that he had to try and calm down instead of storming out because he didn't want to worry her… Then again, was there any chance that she wouldn't, seeing him ready to leave?
But he couldn't stay there, Cal could see his mistake now. He had already put her through hell during the day with the uncertainty of his fate, how could he do it again by relying on her support when she had been just as traumatised as he was?
Because you're a selfish bastard, that's why, he told himself.
He could see the irony of it, after all it was pretty much the same thing they had been arguing about before it all started: him thinking about himself, putting the company at risk for personal reasons no matter how noble they might seem to him.
Him thinking that she'd go along with it no matter what, because it was what she did after all.
When he came out of the bathroom Cal nearly thought about making a beeline for the door and avoiding the kitchen, where she could hear Gillian moving about proving his guess on the food correct. But he wasn't that much of a coward, and she'd probably have a fit if he'd left without telling her. He mustered up his courage and walked into the kitchen, where she was indeed putting together a couple of sandwiches and some tea, biting his lip when he realised that she was too busy to notice he was there and that he'd have to get her attention.
"Can you make that to go?" He chose, poorly, to keep things light. "I think I'm gonna go home."
Gillian had already turned around at the first part, looking at him with curiosity and confusion as she processed his words and what he was wearing. She was clearly taken aback, Cal was expecting as much, but he couldn't provide any real motivation and so he just rolled with the first thing that came to his mind.
"I'm ok love, cold shower did wonders," he tried to explain. "If I stay I'm gonna have to wake up earlier and go home anyway to get changed, might as well-"
"You can do it in the morning, I don't think anybody expects you to be on time tomorrow morning," she sweetly tried to change his mind and Cal ached at the touch of panic in her voice, as she was probably afraid that something horrible would happen to him if he was out of sight. "Come to think of it, you should probably take the day off . We-"
"We lost an entire business day, those peeping-toms cases aren't going to solve themselves." Sarcasm again, and again it wasn't well received, so he stepped closer and put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm alright Foster, I'm gonna be ok. One good night of sleep and I'll be as good as new."
He wasn't convincing, but he knew that wasn't the point. Gillian simply wasn't going to insist, because she knew she wasn't going to change his mind and because she didn't want to end that day of all days in the same way it had started. Feeling her resolve slowly vanishing, Cal rewarded it by pulling her closer for a hug, less desperate and more comforting than the previous one, then he gently pulled away and held her face in his hands for a second.
He often joked, sometimes too harshly, about her mothering instincts towards him: it was part of her as much as it was part of him to get himself in uncomfortable situations. Not that he wasn't ready to do the same when needed, he simply had a different style. Where Gillian would listen and comfort, look after him and try to ease whatever was going on with him, his way of looking after her was more on the action side and usually featured him doing things preventing her from getting hurt or getting back at people who did. In their respective and opposite ways they were both driven by their feelings, only that were Gillian was usually composed and proper and could keep them under control until the best moment, he would let them run freely and dictate his action against his own best judgement.
Especially when it came to her.
That's was why he couldn't stay like that for long, why he couldn't hold her so close and lose himself in her eyes, why he couldn't trust himself with more than that: he had not planned that and he had not seen it coming but all sorts of things came to his mind when he held her face like that and scared the hell out of him, reinforcing his decision that leaving as soon as possible was a good idea.
He stepped away slowly, trying not to betray his internal turmoil and smiling at her, still holding her hand as he promised to call her once he'd be home. Gillian nodded and thanked him, and then insisted that he did indeed take the sandwiches she had prepared and ate once home. Cal promised, making a joke about the packed lunches his mother used to prepare when he was a wee boy in school that went down a little better than the previous attempts at levity. Then he started walking towards the door, knowing that if he hadn't they were going to get stuck in an endless loop of goodnights and so on, but did stop to thank her once more for everything she had done that day before putting the wrapped sandwiches in his pocket and stepping out of the door.
I just thought in the end Cal was too screwed up to hang around, that was my take.
For the next one we'll jump to the closing scene of 'Sweet sixteen': it was a beautiful moment and a great hug but something about it always bugs me. So, will Cal stay or go after Gillian's confession?