+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.
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Brock pulled open the glass door connecting both offices and noticed the same fresh smell. His new office was the same size that Cooper's, but the way the furniture was placed made it look larger, distributed as to mark two separated areas. There was a couch directly in front of the door to the hall, partly beneath the outer window, and an armchair against the glass wall, with a sober coffee table before them. On it, he saw a local newspaper and another from DC, neatly folded.
He didn't pause to check the headlines, curious to look around. There was a modular against the wall opposite the glass door, and his desk, with a spinning chair that looked like an open invitation to sit there and relax for the rest of the day. There was a low cabinet on the side, under the inner window, with a printer on it, and two chairs before his desk. On it, he found the same basket as Russell had. He left his briefcase on a chair and turned the basket around. It was wrapped in cellophane. Brock narrowed his eyes at spotting the personal card hanging from the white ribbon. He recognized Gillian's handwriting right away. It took him a hesitating moment to grab it.
"Welcome back to Boston and congratulations on your promotion. The Boston staff." Yeah, 'the Boston staff'. Well, she was back to her two arm's length distance. That was good. Especially if they were about to be working together for the next days.
He moved the basket to the side and took out his computer, circling his desk. The chair was even more comfortable than it looked like, and didn't make a single sound. He opened the computer and his eyes darted back to the basket while he waited for the software to load. First things first, Brockner. Send the files, get things in motion, then you can see what she left for you.
As soon as the printer was working, and Russell showed him a thumb up from his office while checking his computer at the same time, Brock pulled the basket closer. The cellophane made all kind of noises as he unwrapped it and he felt annoyed at himself, realizing he was doing it as if he didn't want anybody to hear.
He inspected the content of the basket as if expecting to find a bomb hidden somewhere. A black pencil-holder with a bunch of pencils, a set of ballpoint pens, highlighters and markers. Also a black organizer with stick notes, a black stapler, and all kinds of clips, stacks and other little objects he didn't even know what they were for. He placed those things on his desk and continued his search. A folding paper tray, also black; a calendar, a desk blotter. And then he saw the picture frame. She expected him to display a picture with the punks too? He took it, a hand already on one of the drawers, ready to pull it open and file the picture away. But when he turned it around, his eyes couldn't look away. It was also from the gala, but it was only him and Andrea. He tried to recall who'd taken it, and when, but couldn't. They looked like coming from the dance floor, Andrea's arm wrapped around his, and they were looking at each other with big smiles, at the brink of laughter. It almost looked like something prepared beforehand, but he knew it wasn't. One of the punks should've taken it with their phone.
He felt his lips curling in response to his daughter's smile. She was so beautiful in that picture, so alive, so happy. He placed it on a corner of his desk, where he could glance at it at any moment. That had been a thoughtful touch from Gillian. Then he noticed there was still something more in the basket. It was an elegant black case, and inside of it, Brock found a black fountain pen. He carefully pulled the cap and took a closer look at the delicate golden tip, then fetched a stick note and tried it. Black ink. The way it slid on the paper, it felt like writing on silk. He was about to try his signature when Russell tapped on the glass door and stuck his head in.
"Brock, I'm gonna check the file with Reg and the others."
He looked up as if he had just been caught doing some mischief and wore back his usual scowl to nod. "I'll be there in a minute."
Russell nodded back with a quick smile, grabbed his tablet and walked out. Brock looked back at the pen in his hand. Somehow he knew it was the one difference between the baskets they'd received. It was Gillian's personal gift for him. That thought made him put the pen back in the case. Then he scowled deeper, took it back and slid it in the inner pocket of his suit coat. Enough of personal, already. It was a hell of a pen and they had work to do.
