+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.
"Something always brings me back to you It never takes too long..." Sara Bareilles, Gravity
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It was a nice, relaxed dinner seasoned by Andrea's fresh laughter. The girl celebrated every story Russell told her about crazy, absurd situations he'd been through while working cases. Brock ended up laughing along with them, because some of the things Russell was telling were just hilarious. When the girl was able to breathe again, she wiped her eyes, still giggling, and cleared the table.
"Can I offer you gents anything?" she asked, standing by Brock with her hands on his shoulders.
"No, thanks, Andrea," Russell replied, grinning. "But I really owe you. It's been the best dinner in ages!"
Brock smiled up at her and took one of her hands to kiss it.
She smiled back, leaning to kiss his hair. "Then I'll leave you guys to your top-secret men stuff."
"Thank you, dear."
"Night, Dad, Russell."
They watched her walk into her bedroom and close her door, then they traded a glance. Brock raised his eyebrows.
Russell nodded eagerly. "Please, make it something strong."
Brock got up and went to the kitchen. Russell saw him open the cupboard, already moving his hand to take something from there, then stop and turn to look at the family room with a puzzled scowl. Russell scoffed and pointed at one of the bookshelves.
"It's there," he said with a little smile. "Didn't have the heart to throw it away as you asked me to."
Brock looked at him for a moment, then just nodded and followed his directions. And there it was, what was left of the Blue Label. Hardly enough to fix a couple of fingers for each of them. No wonder he didn't even remember Russell being there.
"I'm sorry about the other night," he said, handing Russell a glass.
"What? Forget it, man. We all have our moments."
Brock allowed himself to flash a bitter smile, as he raised his glass to Russell. He knew Russell was too discreet to ask, but the man was dying to know what had made him end up in such a pathetic state. And he deserved an explanation. So Brock motioned for them to move from the table to the living-room area, and gave him a very shortened, simplified version of the story. Omitting Gillian's part, of course. He'd rather shoot his own toe than mention that. To Russell of all people.
Russell listened with all of his attention. Then he leaned back, arching his eyebrows as he stomached the information. Brock shrugged slightly and sipped his whisky.
"It doesn't matter," he said, plain and calm, his eyes lingering on the amber liquid left in his glass. "Not anymore."
