2
A text seemed more appropriate.
It was direct, self-explanatory, kept the exchange to the minimum and obviously removed the potential emotional component of communicating directly. In her case of course, it also allowed her to use her skills to craft a short message that would get to the point. Yet, Gillian still found herself holding her breath as the tentative dots of the incoming answer floated on the screen, wondering if things were about to get more difficult than what she had hoped and finally relaxing when five simple words appeared.
See you there. Thank you
With that sorted, at least for the time being, Gillian then focused on work until Cal came knocking at her office door to let her know that he was heading home. Try as she might, Gillian didn't catch anything in his words and behaviour that would suggest he was no longer on board with her taking the time to meet Burns, which made her feel warm and grateful along with his brief note that she should take the time she needed to deal with that. Maybe he wasn't fishing for a pat on the back or for any kind of reassurance, but he was certainly making a point to prove to her he wanted to be open and supportive.
She could live with that, most of the time she didn't mind Cal being a little possessive other than protective, not when it was within reason. Gillian also thought he was kind of in an impossible position: if he had told her not to go or shown any kind of resistance he might have been accused of overstepping and trying to control her, and having no opinion at all could have been interpreted as cold detachment. All considered, he was being supportive and open and she couldn't ask more of him considering the situation.
That realisation accompanied her during the drive to the bar, a smile on her face appearing any time she caught herself thinking about ways in which she could show Cal her gratitude for that after the taxing encounter with Burns. She had chosen the place, somewhere not too close to the office as some sort of neutral ground, somewhere quiet where she knew they wouldn't have to yell to talk to each other. Not that she planned on doing much talking, in her mind there wasn't that much they had to talk about anyway, and when she arrived at the bar and spotted him Gillian thought it was going to be even shorter than what she had anticipated.
Burns was sitting at a high table, perched up on the stool with two empty glasses of beer in front of him and a third one in his hand. He had his eyes glued to the door and the moment he saw her he stood up, stumbling on the table and knocking off one of the empty glasses in a goofy way that made Gillian think he had been through more drinks than what the glassware showed. She sucked in a short breath, wondering if it wasn't too late to bail, but then Burns waved and called out her name so loud that a few patrons turned around to look at him. Then she collected herself and walked over, keeping her hands to herself when she read in his open arms the clear intention to hug her.
"Thank you for coming," he said then, apparently not catching her physical cue and instead pointing at the stool next to his. "Have a seat."
Gillian didn't respond, but didn't sit down either. She was determined not to linger more than necessary, and she counted on the fact that in his clearly altered state Burns wouldn't catch on to the fact that by standing she was making her future departure quicker. Now that she was there he seemed more pressed with other things anyway, as he enthusiastically got the attention of a waitress to come over.
"I'll have another," he told the young lady, pointing at the nearly empty glass of beer before addressing Gillian. "Do you want a drink?"
"Just tonic water, thank you."
The waitress nodded and left, and Gillian watched as Burn climbed up on the stool again before giving her his undivided attention.
"Thank you for coming, I know you're busy and… Well, I know this must be weird."
"Unexpected, maybe," Gillian tried to soften the blow, finding the right balance between being polite and being…too polite.
"Yeah, I'd say that." He chuckled, pausing when the waitress came back with their orders. "I hear business is doing pretty well."
"We went through a rough patch, financially at least, but we've bounced back." That she could do, small talk, nothing difficult. "We landed a couple of big cases with the DOJ, that helped a lot."
"I've heard, yes."
She wasn't surprised that he had, the cases in question had been very public and well, Burns frequented certain kinds of circles. But she also felt that it was a very neutral statement, not a case of obsessive keeping up she should worry about. But Gillian also felt that the conversation was taking too long to take off; the way she saw it, the sooner they got to the point, the sooner she'd be able to leave.
"How about you?" She asked, as casual and detached as she could. "Still with-"
"No, I'm no longer with the DEA," he answered quickly, brushing it all off with an absent hand wave. "Deep undercover assignments, they take a toll on you. I started to feel trapped, out of it…I don't know how to explain, but I knew it was time for me to go."
Gillian nodded slowly, taking her time to think about his words as she sipped her drink. She did know what he meant, she had worked with many agents from different agencies involved in undercover cases and she knew very well what kind of alienation they went through. It was hard enough to maintain a life outside of the fake identity, harder still to reconnect to the real one at the end of a job, and she knew that being a single man with no family or connections didn't make it any easier.
"I've set up a temporary gig, external consulting for juvenile facilities that don't have a budget to hire someone in house," he volunteered then when no questions came from her. "It's kind of hard to find stable work when half of your resume is classified but it seems to be working."
Gillian nodded, she did know the issue quite well since half of her own CV had to be redacted, but she was honestly glad to hear about this development.
"I'm sure things will work out," she encouraged him. "You were doing a great job at Covington, you always had the kids' interest first despite everything."
The observation made him smile, and Gillian didn't regret it. No matter how awkward the situation was there was no harm in recognising the good his work could do, that much she knew.
"Thank you Gillian, it means a lot to me for you to say that," he said, then let go of the glass he was holding and motioned to move his hand towards her on the table but she pulled it back a little to get out of reach. "You've always understood me, like nobody else could."
That was the first red flag - well, the second perhaps after the signs of heavy drinking - and Gillian immediately tensed. She should have seen it coming, it might have been somewhat cocky of her to expect that but she had honestly thought it might have been in the cards: that meeting was not just about catching up, not for him.
"Dave-"
"I know I had to leave suddenly, I never got to say goodbye."
"I don't fault you for that, there was no choice," she urged to jump in, not wanting him to get any further.
"You're right, but there is one now." He tried to go for her hands again but Gillian moved quickly taking them - literally - off the table. "I never stopped loving you Gillian, I thought about you every day since I left. We were separated but it doesn't mean that we broke up, not to me."
"I understand why you might feel that way, Dave," That's good, she said to herself, Validate his feelings first. "But it was almost two years ago,." She could see the genuine shock on his face, hear the gasp of painful surprise coming from him but clearly that was not the right time for her to stop. "I am dating someone, it's been going on for a while and it's serious, you know." She softened her voice for the final blow, but could have almost framed the exact second his heart broke. "I'm happy, I moved on. And I think you should too."
"But you don't love him, right? Not as much as you loved me."
Gillian shook her head, wishing he could be sorbet and truly understand what she was saying.
"I do love him, and even if there wasn't someone else… It's been a long time, I didn't know if I'd ever see you again and I-"
"I'm here now Gillian," he pleaded, his voice getting stronger despite the slur of alcohol. "And I'm not going anywhere, never again. We had something, you knew my deepest darkest secret and you stayed with me because you loved me."
"That was then, Dave." Gillian shook her head and took a step away from the table, signalling her intention to leave before her words would spell it out loud. "Things have changed. I am glad to know you're doing ok but whatever we had is over."
"It doesn't have to be-"
"I'm sorry, but this is it." She knew she was being a bit harsh, but clearly there was no room for vaguely polite statements. "I have to go now."
Giving suit to her words Gillian didn't wait for a reply and further moved away, stretching a hand to get her purse from the table and intentioned to walk out. But that was when Burns' hand snatched forward, seizing the other end of the bag and pulling at it, slightly but enough to stop her from leaving.
"Who is it?" She had no words for him, just a bewildered look that he outrageously ignored. "Let me talk to him, I will tell him what you and I have and-"
"It won't change anything," she clarified, trying to pull the purse towards her. "I have to go now Dave, this is it."
"Wait Gillian, I-"
"Everything ok there Ma'am?"
Only then, as the voice of the female bartender from behind the counter rose above the buzz of the bar, Gillian became truly aware of the situation. She was on her way out, or at least trying to leave, but with Burns grabbing her purse she couldn't actually go anywhere. Also, apparently he had been a lot louder than what she had realised because when she looked around Gillian noticed that the woman behind the counter was not the only one with eyes on them. Other patrons around the table were staring at them, curiously mostly, possibly thinking how they would tell the tale to colleagues around the water cooler the day after; but a few were watching more closely, as if they were ready to switch from observers to active participants.
"Yes, thank you." Gillian looked at Burns, then at his hand still on her purse and looked back up at him. "I am leaving."
Yet, when she tugged at the item again to take full control of it she encountered resistance, with Burns still holding onto it on his end.
"Gillian-"
"I have to go," she cut him off. "Dave, let me go."
Before he could reply or do anything, a man who had been sitting at the counter and watching the scene calmly came over, close enough to keep a watchful eye on the confrontation.
"She said she's leaving." He spoke calmly but directly, staring right at Burns. "You let her go now, ok?"
Dave was a big guy, probably trained in at least some kind of fighting, but the man from the bar was clearly no push-over and, Gillian gauged, far sober. Burns seemed to come to the same conclusion then, because he let go of her purse finally allowing Gillian to take the item and walk away from the table. She turned her back to him and walked briskly towards the exit, selectively deaf to his voice calling her name until she was out the door and taking her time to give a thankful nod to the bartender before the door closed behind her.
He knew he should have put an end to it, a merciful and swift end: but in a way it was like slowing down while passing a car accident to take a peek at the wreck. Twenty minutes into the game and the Three Lions looked more like tamed kittens, being pushed around like rag dolls by the mighty All Blacks. It wasn't surprising, yet Cal had hoped England would put up a bit more of a fight; but after the 4th try he seriously started to consider ending the bloodbath and switching channel to something less depressing.
Then he heard the key in the door, heeled steps coming in softly, and a smile came up to his lips as he thought that maybe his evening was about to take a more pleasant turn after all. He hadn't expected her to come over that night since she was meeting with Burns, but he was more than glad than she had and wasn't even mad that she was taking her sweet ass time rummaging around the kitchen instead of coming to him.
"Cal, why isn't there anything on for dinner?!"
Gillian finally called out, thoroughly annoyed, and Cal chuckled before getting up from the couch to drag himself to the kitchen and join her.
"Pizza is on the way," he mumbled as he came closer, immediately holding her in his arms and going for a kiss to show her just how much the surprise was appreciated. "I didn't feel like cooking."
"Only one?" She asked teasingly, absently tracing his jaw line with a finger. "I'm starving."
"Well darling, I wasn't expecting company tonight."
Gillian gave him a stern look, finding it simply ridiculous that he had really thought she wouldn't want to see him first thing after her meeting with Burns. She smiled softly at him, stretching her arms behind him and caressing the back of his head with one hand before gently gliding her open palm on his chest. She was taking her time, to enjoy how comfortable it always felt to be with him even if just like that, to find that her expectations about rejoining him after meeting Burns were not only met but surpassed, then she moved closer to kiss him. It was slow, cherished, and Cal took his time with it too, sucking at her lips and letting her tongue explore him for as long as she wanted.
When she pulled apart she didn't go far, staying wrapped around him and letting him cuddle her until he couldn't hold back the curiosity anymore.
"Seriously though, it really didn't take long."
"There was no need to drag it," she confessed painfully, knowing they couldn't really ignore the elephant in the room. "I shouldn't have gone."
"That bad, uh?"
"Not bad, just…awkward." Gillian sighed and pulled back, allowing Cal to catch her cue and activate to pour two glasses of wine. "He told me he's no longer with the DEA, that he has some consulting job now." The glasses touched and they took a sip, leaning into the touch of his hand on her free hand. "And then he said that for him we never split up even though he had to leave, that he still loves me and that he thought we could pick up things where we left off."
"Shocker!" Cal joked feigning surprise, then caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. "Sorry to say love, what else did you expect?"
"Now, what am I supposed to answer?" Gillian groaned in frustration. "If I say no that would make me naive, and if I say yes it would look like I am a narcis-"
"Or just, I don't know, a wonderful woman who is not easy to forget?" She rolled her eyes at his lame attempt, but Cal shushed her quickly and put down his glass, moving closer and trapping her against the fridge. "Because you are, love, unforgettable. Any man who's been lucky enough to be with you wouldn't easily be able to just move on, myself included."
Cal honestly thought he had her. Yes, he was being a touch too smothering and toothache inducing sweet, but he had expected her to roll her eyes at him again or call him out at best. Instead she looked away for a second, thoughtful but not shameful, wiping away his playful disposition.
"Gill, are you ok?" She didn't answer but looked back at him with a sigh. "What happened, love?"
"Nothing Cal, not much," she urged to reassure him. "When he started saying those things I told him that I had moved on, that I am with someone who makes me happy and that it's serious."
"Why, I'd like to meet this remarkable fellow!" Cal chuckled, and even though Gillian did the same there was still a trace of shadow darkening her lovely face. "What is it, love? Did he do something?"
"No, not really. When I told him I had to leave he grabbed my purse and tried to keep talking." There was a little clenching movement in Cal's jaw, the first notable reaction she could recall. "Nothing happened, the bartender told him to back off and I left."
"You ok?"
He had to ask, she understood that. Gillian could almost see how badly he was trying to control himself and could easily imagine that he was blaming himself, not only for letting her go but for encouraging her to do so.
"Yes Cal, everything is fine. I guess…ok, I expected him to say something about getting back together but I found it out of character." She sighed and shook her head. "Then again, I haven't seen him in two years and we'd only been dating for a few months. That's what I tried to tell him, lay him off gently, you know."
"Well, at least that's sorted then, right?" Gillian nodded, trying to hold back a grin when she felt him approach again, his whole body gently but inevitably pressing against hers. "That's good 'cause you know, my team is taking a beating right now and I could use some serious cheer me up."
Gillian didn't answer to the invite/provocation, mostly because once Cal stopped talking he busied his mouth on her neck, kissing and licking his way up and down her skin until all she could was moan. And they both decided the delivery guy was going to receive no answer.