17. hotline

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"What? They refused any kind of protection?"

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"What? They refused any kind of protection?"

Gillian shrugged. "I can give you the whole answer, if you have a spare hour. It includes the expectable true faith, peace, trust..."

"I get it." Cooper let out an exasperated sigh. "They're not the only ones. What about Harvard and the MIT?"

"We split to cover both places and talked to the campus police and the deacon's office until the SCU arrived."

Cooper frowned. "The SCU? You mean...?"

"The current SCU. After all, they're the PD counterterrorism unit."

"But the Commissioner told me they would be monitoring the malls..."

"Well, they answer to the BIS Superintendent."

"You mean your father gave them different orders."

Gillian arched her eyebrows. No need to linger on that, so she asked, "What do we do now, ma'am?"

Cooper breathed deep. "There's nothing more we can do right now. I've set a watch outside the Muslim centers who refused custody and the Bureau set a special line to report any Islam-related threat or incident. I'm waiting for an update and instructions from the brass. The local PD and the state troopers swear they have it all under control and that they'll call if they need us. So unless CT calls, we can only go home and keep our phones at hand."

It was the longest answer Gillian had ever heard from the Iron Lady. Which showed how annoyed she was.

"You sure you don't want us to stick around, just in case?"

Cooper shook her head.

Back to the team's office, Gillian sent them home—Kurt was gone before she finished talking. Tanya seemed to be working on something with Connor, so Gillian waited for the others to leave with a thoughtful look on her phone. There was something bugging her about the attacks, but there was nobody she could talk to about it.

She almost jumped with the jolt when it buzzed, as if answering her thoughts.

She went to the window and stood there, her back turned to the office. Her heart was launched on a stampede and her face felt like fire as she took the call.

"Agent Brockner..." she said, praying to sound calm and casual.

In DC, Brock's eyes stayed on the window of his hospital room when she picked up. Those two words were enough for him to know everything was fine in Boston. Good.

"Gillian, sorry to bother you," he said, keeping his voice low. For some reason, nurses didn't like patients on the phone. "Do you have a minute?"

Only one? "Sure, sir. How can I help you?"

"I'm sorry, I know you must be busy, but Cassidy can't take my calls and..."

"You'd like to know what we have."

The smile on her voice pursed his lips. "Yes, if you don't mind."

Gillian used to hate this feeling like a stupid fangirl and the stupid smile nailed to her face, her racing heart, her burning cheeks. After holding him barely alive, she was grateful for every chance to feel like this again. So she poured herself a coffee while she told Brock what her and her team had concluded.

"I see..." muttered Brock.

"What d'you think, sir?"

He closed his eyes for a moment. There she was, looking up to him as if she wasn't more than able to get to the right conclusions, like she'd done this time yet again. Waiting for a word from him to trust completely in her own sharp instinct. As if she needed it.

It'd been only two weeks since he'd last seen her, back in Portland. But there hadn't been one night when he didn't wake up missing to know her around. Her hand on his arm while she drowsed with her armchair right by his bed, the soft touch of her lips on his forehead whenever she arrived or left. It'd been so soothing, so comforting, coming out of his nightmares to her quiet care. For the first time ever since Georgia died, even in the state he was in, his persistent loneliness had receded at least a little.

He swallowed a heartfelt sigh. "I think you're right. They won't risk showing they can orchestrate attacks in two continents at the same time."

Gosh, she missed him around. She missed his wits taking her reasoning by the hand like this; his calm voice depriving situations of any unnecessary drama; his rock-solid presence that allowed her to have doubts and let show she wasn't always on top of things.

At his words, she couldn't help but smile. She'd always loved how his seemingly inexpressive face and tone told her what he meant. "But...?"

Brock allowed himself a mild smile too. Of course she'd get it. "Maybe it's not ISIS we should beware of."

"You think domestic radical groups might take advantage of the situation."

"It'd be daring of them, but it can't be dismissed."

Gillian looked up, eyes widening in realization, but she kept it to herself.

"They're calling to march tomorrow here, in New York and other cities, as a protest against the attacks," she said, instead.

"That'd be just too daring."

"Lone wolves..." she muttered.

Brock knew he didn't need to answer and simply waited, wishing they had more things left to say. It felt good talking with her, even about such a sensitive subject.

"I'll tip Cooper off about it. She'll be grateful to have something to look after."

"CT hasn't called her again yet."

"And the PD has things under control."

Brock didn't notice his wider smile as he nodded. This conversation was the highlight of his last two months. Actually since they had dinner with their children at his apartment. From then on, things had been harsh and stressing. Especially between them. "Standing by isn't easy."

That dinner. He'd almost forgotten about it. Well, no, not forgotten. But all that happened since they came back to Boston after the Ghost case had been too absorbing to think about it again.

"No, it never is."

"Mom!"

For a moment, Gillian hated her son's guts. Couldn't he see she was finally having a civil conversation with the stupid bitter man for the first time in centuries?

"I'm sorry I kept you from what you were doing."

Oh, you can keep me all you want. "Never mind. It's nothing important. How're you holding up, sir? Ready to go home tomorrow?"

Of course she'd remember. "I'm fine, thanks. Much better."

"And looking forward to get outta the hospital."

"Yes."

This time she heard his smile, and a chill ran down her spine. She would've loved to see him smile again. Especially at her.

"Thanks, Gillian. I really appreciate you taking the time for this."

"Don't even mention it, sir. Look, I'm supposed to stay on the loop, so don't hesitate to call me whenever you need an update. No matter the time."

"Thanks. Take care." Please don't go looking for any dragon while I'm away. He was about to say goodbye, but he didn't. It wasn't a word he wanted to use with her.

"You too, sir. Get well."

Like the stupid fangirl she was, she waited on the line until he disconnected. Then rested the phone against her lips. As if to hide the stupid little smile still curling them.


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