+18 - eps 22-27 - A case takes Russell and Brock to the brink of death. It'll be up to Gillian and the team to rescue them before they're killed by a white supremacist militia. And in the aftermath of the Paris attacks, the threat of a bio attack fo...
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Gillian climbed out of the water and squeezed her hair. Instead of a towel, she wore a short beach dress to sit under the umbrella, phone, book and a cold beer at hand on the table. She was dead tired, but she'd found herself incapable of closing her eyes knowing she was hardly ten yards away from Brock's room—and Brock's bed. So she stared at the ceiling, hating her lack of guts to go knock on his door. Even though the accurate picture in her head didn't include the knocking, but rather sneaking in to cuddle against him while he slept. Gosh. How could she be so pathetic.
She finally got up and went out for a swim and some peace of mind. As if. Even having his window in sight made her nervous. It was annoying. She wasn't used to anyone making her feel like that.
So she sat with her back to the inn, grabbed her book and kicked her dirty mind to the marked page. She relaxed as soon as she began to read. She liked this story about Shadow's strange journey with Mr. Wednesday to... Wait. Why did that name ring a bell? She cursed under her breath when she recalled herself yelling at a very taken-aback Brock something about her fantasies and Wednesday breakfast with him. Jeez. There was no out of it?
"Where's everybody?"
Gillian controlled her jolt, swallowed her heart and accepted as inevitable the sudden burning reddening her ears. Then she glanced over her shoulder.
Brock came out of the 101 with a bottle of cold water, just out of the shower. Wearing that black polo on top of clear pants, which made him look definitely and illegally hot for a bitter man his age. He was supposed to look good only in his suits. Not fair, he turned out to look even better in street clothes.
As he came closer, she breathed deep and tried to look as casual as he did.
"They went to the beach. All the locals are wearing jackets, but this is plain summer for us."
He left a trace of fresh smell of body soap and cologne when he circled her and the table, to point at a vacant chair opposite hers.
"May I?"
She nodded with a mocking smile. As if she were about to say no.
He sat down with a soft sigh. He was still tired, but wide awake and as ready as he'd ever be to poke the vipers nest and see what came out of it.
"Did you get any sleep?" she asked, polite and conversational.
"Yes, you?"
Nope. You see, looks like I can't sleep alone when you're next door. Not even the first time it happens. "Yeah, some. But it was so quiet, I didn't wanna miss the chance."
She closed her book and they kept quiet. She hated this feeling of waiting for the blow. She knew Brock meant what he'd said about them having their pending conversation, but she'd be damned if she felt like having it. Not now, not ever.
Brock gazed around, fighting a fair fight to keep his eyes away from her legs, and looked for a way to start the conversation.
Unlike other times they kept silent together, now Gillian felt about to burst in hysterical giggles. She understood she wouldn't get away with it any longer. He meant to talk about her feelings and there was nothing she could do to stop him. So she decided to make the first move and get over with it as soon as possible.
"C'mon, bring it on," she muttered.
Brock hid his surprise when she opened the game like that. But he wasn't about to miss it. She hated to beat around the bush, so he met her eyes and used his flattest tone to ask one of the things that puzzled him more about her: "What is it that makes you afraid of me, Gillian?"
She scoffed at such a blunt question. Okay, looked like he wasn't about to cut her any slack. So much for the old-school-gent ways. Yet she tried to stall. Because she felt so not ready to talk about her feelings. With him.
"The smartass answer or the honest one?"
Brock didn't say a word. He just stared at her, waiting.
She took off her sunglasses. If she was about to beat a record at bold and stupid for honesty's sake, she'd do it looking him in the eye. She leaned back in her chair.
"It took me many a hard year to be in control of my life," she said, in a slow, thoughtful way Brock had never heard from her. "Be myself instead of somebody else's. The King's child, Sheppard's woman, Bank's partner, Cook's pain in the ass... But I eventually did it. And only a few years later I found myself leading the SCU. A dream come true."
Brock relaxed in his chair too, paying attention not only to her words, but also to her body language. She looked down with a mild smile. Revisiting memories.
"All those years you were but a name in my life. Five manuals on my shelf. But they made all the difference for me. You made the difference... Whenever my colleagues asked where did I learn what I know, I was flattered to tell them I've learned from the best. I liked to tell them about you..." She shrugged, and her mild smile was somehow sad. "It was easy, showing you off. 'Cause you were but a name."
He noticed her emphasis on the repetition. So having him around was hard for her. At least not easy.
Gillian turned her face to the water. "Then I met you again. And even against your will, you helped me figure out that murder... It was such a blast... I mean, to me. You were still the best, and interacting with you..." She paused, looking for the right words. "It's been the best of my whole career. You have a way with words, sir. Something that sets my mind in motion... You make me think and you make me see... There's no telling how far you can take me..." She glanced up at him with a soft scoff. "And I'm stalling all the same. Sorry."
Brock tilted his head, captivated by the spark in her deep blue eyes as much as by her words. The way she talked about him was... There were so many layers of different emotions underlying her account, making her voice low and warm.
Gillian breathed deep. Letting the fangirl take over was a smart move, but it wouldn't get her off the hook. She still hadn't answered Brock's question, and he would stay on it until she did.
"What scares me about you is that you're not only the best, sir. You're the most worthy person I've ever met. You're worth respecting and admiring. You're so worth following... What scares me is that despite our thousand differences, I just can't help looking up to you like I do... And it makes me feel like losing what little control I fought so hard to have over my life."
