+18 eps. 12-16 - Gillian and Brock face huge changes in their lives after she leaves the PD and he moves back to DC. But no matter what, looks like they just can't help coming across each other.
Oops! Această imagine nu respectă Ghidul de Conținut. Pentru a continua publicarea, te rugăm să înlături imaginea sau să încarci o altă imagine.
Shit! She needed to find a case that would take her away from Boston before he arrived. And keep her away for the next... let's say five years? That would do. Maybe. She was so not ready to see him again. Not then, not ever!
She was so upset that her thoughts pushed her to her feet, so she started cleaning the table. And she needed to be careful not to let things slip from her suddenly unsteady hands. Her heart was ruthlessly hammering her chest, heat whipping her face wave after wave. She'd call in sick. She'd get their office ready and then she'd pretend to catch a furious flu—yeah, in summer, good luck with that. Well, she really was about to feel sick. Her belly had turned to stone and she was half a step away from a heartburn to enter anthologies. That was it! The barbeque on Saturday. She'd say she'd eaten something that got her really sick and needed to stay in bed for a few days. That should buy her some time. At least to try to put herself together and find a way to show up at the office again.
Not quite aware of what she was doing, she found herself washing the dishes. There was only one word going round and round her head—shit-shit-shit-shit. How would she ever be able to face him again? He had completely ignored her in Somersworth, the week before! All because of that stupid kiss—and it hadn't even been a real kiss! Gosh!
The line phone ringing startled her so much that she almost dropped a glass. She hurried to dry her hands and pick up, wondering who could be calling to her home number so late.
"Reg! You okay?"
"Russ? Why are you calling to this number?"
"'Cause you wouldn't pick up your phone?"
Her eyes scanned around. "Oh, I left it on the table. Look, I'm busy right now. Call me back in five."
"You sure you okay?"
"Jeez, Russ! Yeah, I'm fine! Just doing the dishes!" And trying not to have a heart attack after your stupid emoji.
"Okay, call me when you're done."
"Got it."
She hung up, snorting, and went back to the sink. What was she to tell Russell? She kept huffing and snorting as she finished to wash the glasses. Then she remembered Cooper that morning, doing the same as she boxed up her office. A weird mix of snort and chuckle came out of her lips. The stupid bitter man was upsetting everybody around even before arriving. And then she knew the answer was nothing. That was what she would tell Russell. Nothing at all.
Once she was done in the kitchen, she turned off the lights and went upstairs. She paused by Connor's room to remind him of the mandatory ultimatum so he wouldn't stay up late, then headed to her room.
Talking to Russell was the easiest part, as she soon found out. Her friend tried to trick her into blurting something out, but she warned him about trying profiler tricks on her. They teased each other and discussed vital issues like brands of wine for the barbeque.
The hard part came when she got into bed and turned off her nightstand lamp.
Then the shadows of her room seemed to get crowded with memories of Brock. Every moment she'd been with him passed before her eyes, chills running down her spine at this or that memory. She couldn't help a sigh, recalling the song they'd danced at the gala. And that sigh somehow helped her to stop fighting. She finally accepted the swell of emotions and let them wash over her and away. And she felt how her muscles relaxed and a blessed weariness took over, leading her gently into slumber.
To dream about Brock, of course. But that was no surprise.
In the morning, on her way to work, she felt utterly stupid at her reaction the night before. She wasn't about to run or hide from Brock. That was just not in her nature. And she wouldn't need to worry about avoiding him, either, because he'd take good care to stay away from her. She hadn't even seen Mattock over the last four months, so chances were Brock's new post would keep him away from the office most of the time. And even if he was nailed to his chair, it would be on a different floor, so they wouldn't even have a glimpse of each other.
She couldn't help but wonder how happy he was about this assignment, that would take him away from the field yet again. As far as she knew, being in the field was what he liked most, and she'd confirmed it the times they'd worked together. He wouldn't let it show, of course—God forbid anything would leak through his stupid bitter mask. But there was that occasional spark in his eyes, and a way to be ready for action all the time, and that special echo in his voice when he was talking about a case. Everything about him suggested those were the moments when he felt really alive.
Her musing kept her entertained until she got to the federal building, and by then, the idea of Brock being back in town and working only a floor away from her was no longer upsetting. It was their job and both of them were seasoned pros. They'd just do as they were supposed to. And she was sure what little interaction they might have wouldn't be hard to handle.
However, knowing it was his office she had to set along with Russell's gave the task a different hue. Because she wanted them both to feel welcome and comfortable at their new workspace.
