+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! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
On her way back, Gillian didn't notice the dark clouds coming from the ocean. She had to force herself to paying attention to the cars around hers, at least just enough to get home in one piece. She'd texted Taylor to suspend their lunch and Connor to send him to visit Tim, arguing she needed the house quiet to sleep. She actually needed to know there would be nobody at home, because she wasn't sure she'd be able to reach her room before breaking down completely.
And she was right. She'd barely made it through the front door before the first moan shattered her chest and found its way up her throat and through her trembling lips. Tears didn't flow: they gushed down her face. She closed the door and staggered to rest her back against it, letting herself slide down to sit on the floor. Her knees came up on their own accord and she threw her arms around them, bringing them close to hide her face, while her shoulders shook with every sob she let out.
Not an hour earlier everything was just fine. She and Cassidy were at the staff kitchen of the fifth floor, having a coffee and talking about the documentation they needed to issue to get things started. And then... Past Cassidy, she saw Brock come out of his office. And she saw Cooper come out of hers to shake his hand. And then Brandon approached him for a handshake, and Russell even gave him a quick hug, patting his back. And then he strode all the way to the elevators with his firm steps and his blank scowl, nodding at the agents that would pause to say something to him.
What the hell...?
Cassidy noticed her frown and looked back, spotting Brock, who shook one last hand by the elevators before stepping into the booth and disappearing.
She heard Cassidy speak like in dreams. "Yeah, there he goes. I thought they would put up a little something for him. Maybe not a farewell party, but a cake, something like that. But you know Brockner. Not exactly prone to socialization."
It was the last words she remembered hearing from Cassidy. As soon as she could, she got rid of him and hurried down and out of the federal building, not even looking at the guards as she dialed Russell.
"Brockner's leaving?" she asked, trying to sound natural.
"Yeah, tomorrow. He's going back to DC, to work with Cassidy."
She hung up on her friend. She didn't mean to, she just did. She tried to breathe deep as she got in her car, but it felt as if no air got to her lungs. She still managed to text Taylor and Connor. Then she turned off her phone, stepped on the gas and drove straight home.
Along the way—just like then as she cried alone, curling up against the front door—there was room for only one thought in her mind: he couldn't be leaving. Not him. Not now. She'd just lost her career and her father. She couldn't lose him too. She just couldn't afford it.
Only now she realized... No. Only now she dared to admit that she needed him around. She needed his soothing, reassuring presence, no matter how cold. And that eternal scowl shadowing his eyes. Those green eyes that would shine so bright when he smiled. She needed his deep, calm voice setting her mind in motion, making her see and understand. She needed to know that if things went south, he'd be there to hold her up and kick her ass back to her senses, even back to life.
She didn't want him in her bed.
It was so much... so much worse than that. If Russell didn't speak to her anymore, it wouldn't hurt as bad. It was like coming home to find out Connor refused to talk to her.
She'd grown so used to know him always around somehow, no matter where he actually was. There would always be cases they'd work together, and she'd always have another chance to keep learning from him, and get mad at him, and follow his lead, and hate the stupid man's guts for always making her want to hug him at his utter ignorance about his own value.
And he was leaving.
Not just another case that would take him out of town, for a few days or a couple of weeks.
He was leaving for good. Back to DC. Back home.
Always the same. After doing so much for her, he pushed her away. And this time it was really away. Enough to get completely out of reach.
Gillian rested her head on the door, face up, and took both hands to her aching chest, still trying to fill her lungs. Stupid, stupid, stupid man! Why the hell had she let him so close? Why the hell had she surrendered all of her defenses to him? Why the hell did it have to hurt so bad?
All of a sudden she felt all her life falling apart.
How was she supposed to pick up the broken pieces left and put them back together?
Until then, it was only the deep hurt of what King Gillian had done. But now... Oh, God, she didn't have even a shred of firm ground left to get back on her feet.
Somehow she made it up the stairs and to her room, and to the bathroom. She didn't register taking out her clothes. She reacted a little only when she felt the warm rain of the shower on her skin.
And she broke in tears again. Desperate, silent, lonely tears.
