+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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It wasn't easy, eating with one side of his mouth all swollen and sore, but it helped that he didn't have to deal with anything harder than greens. The cold water would ease the pain at one sip and make it worse at the next. So he ended up closing his book, because there was no way he could actually read a whole line. Gillian didn't seem to notice. She looked completely absorbed by whatever she had on her tablet. But that didn't fool him. He knew she registered his every move. Which ended up coming in handy, because when he looked around for the TV remote, it wasn't anywhere within his reach. She looked up at once, spotted his grimace at seeing it across the room, looked that way and in a heartbeat she was handing it over to him.
"Thanks," he muttered. "Mind if I watch?"
"Not at all, sir."
Brock turned on the TV and she went back to the table, where she changed seats to watch it too. He thought of asking her if there was anything she wanted to watch, then he decided not to. And realized that he was, again, putting up a world of excuses to be mad at her and sulk over it. However, he didn't ask. He chose a national news network and focused on handling the pain until he finished his salad.
He had hardly swallowed the last bite when Gillian was already on her feet. She took his tray to the table, went again to the minibar and came back with a bag of cooling gel and two blister packs. Brock was just bound to scowl down at her hand.
"You have to take the painkillers and the antibiotic, sir," she said, very serious. "The gel should help with your face, now that it's absorbed the balm."
Gillian wondered if she'd have to squeeze his nose to make him swallow the pills. But Brock stretched his hand palm up, avoiding eye contact. She swallowed a smile as she gave him the pills and handed him a glass of water.
She waited by his side for him to take them and Brock was tempted to start sulking again, because she was behaving like a damn watchdog. When he swallowed the three pills, she handed him the cooling gel.
"Thanks," he grunted.
The cold plastic against his skin caused him a chill, and he lay back against the mountain of pillows behind him. She hesitated, as if making sure he was comfortable, then went back to the table.
"I'll be right back," she said, taking both trays.
She left them in her own room and took a moment to let out a chuckle and the stupid smile she'd been fighting back. Brock felt insulted, but all in all, he was taking it better than she'd expected. And no matter how hard it was keeping her poker face and a neutral, distant tone, she was actually grateful for the chance to watch over him.
Before going back to Brock's room, she went to Russell's. And found him playing poker with Ron and Aldana. They asked about Brock and she shrugged.
"He's fine-ish. Ron, remember you can use our room if you need to."
"Reg!" protested Aldana, while the other two laughed.
She found Brock just like she'd left him, watching TV. But she noticed something about the pillows and the comforter, then she spotted the bathroom door was ajar. What a surprise, he'd used those few minutes while she was out to go to the bathroom. Stupid stiff man. He sure felt embarrassed about using the toilet when she was in the room. He kept his eyes on the TV, pretending she wasn't there. Gillian managed to prevent her lips from curling up and circled the bed to his side.
"If you'd allow me, sir," she said, pointing at the pillows, all stuffed behind his waist and giving hardly any support to his shoulders and head.
Brock's eyes moved up from under a mild scowl. He hesitated for a moment, then sat up what little he could without feeling his ribs piercing his lung. Gillian seated the pillows in a few, quick movements and stepped away from the bed. Brock leaned back carefully and nodded, muttering, "Thanks." He had to admit it felt much more comfortable. Maybe he even stood a real chance to get some sleep.
Gillian went back to the table and sat there without a word, looking from her tablet to the TV not to turn to Brock. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him slip a bit further under the covers and touch his chest to check the dressing. Then he tried to relax. The painkillers finally worked and his eyelids came slowly down. She waited for five endless minutes, trying to pay some attention to the news. Then she heard his soft sigh.
She stood up and tiptoed to the bed. Brock's face was turned to the other side, and she smiled at noticing that even in his sleep he still kept a mild scowl. She removed the remote from under his hand and turned the TV off. Her fingers were already on the lamp switch when his low, sleepy voice startled her.
"I'm fine, Gillian. You don't need to stay."
He turned his face to her, but his eyes were still closed. So she allowed herself to smile again. And before she could even give it a little thought and panic, she crouched down by his side and said in a gentle, warm way, "Well, you see, sir, I do need to stay."
At her words, Brock tried to open his eyes, to find her face closer than he expected, and her tight smile.
Gillian forced her hand to stay put, not to come up and rest on his cheek as she nodded to his questioning scowl. "It's what I would do for any other in the team." And I care a lot more about you. "I just need to make sure you're fine, sir." Just like you need to cover me every time you think I'm in danger.
Brock was exhausted, and the pain was giving him a break at last. He could only nod, his eyes closing again out of their own will.
"Try to sleep, sir," she whispered, and her words sounded like a goodnight kiss on his forehead.
Which was exactly what she was dying to do. So she turned off the lamp and tiptoed back to the table.
