+18 - eps.33-35 - The shadow of an old foe leaves Gillian fighting for her life. And as the team hunts down the attacker, Brock and Gillian run out of time to come to terms with their feelings for each other. BONUS TRACK: episode 36 - the breakfast
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"Where the hell are they, then?"
Gillian paused to enjoy again the epic moment of actually eating food for the first time in two days—that hideous green soup last night didn't count, since it was meant to make her love the IV.
Brock allowed himself a mild smile at the way she closed her eyes and pursed her lips to eat the last cracker. The simple fact of lifting the head of her bed to bring her to a seating position, and having that tea with three crackers, worked miracles on her mood. She'd insisted in having her morphine reduced to a minimum, and her cheeks had a touch of color. It was so good, seeing her like this in only three days.
"They can't be driving around non-stop," she said, picking up where she'd paused.
"True. Too risky. Especially after Joey Wood showed his face to Morris last night. He knows by now that every LEO in town has his picture and is looking for him."
"They also know they won't get to Fred or Brian. That might piss'im off."
Brock grimaced. "That can backfire on us. Deprived of his targets, Joey Wood may drop his original plan and target any officer or agent he comes across."
She frowned. "That's a one-way ticket. The moment they pull a gun on a random cop, the whole PD will be on them. It's gonna be a damn manhunt."
"Yes, but picture the headlines if the police shoot them down." Brock left it there for her to elaborate, out of habit, driven by the easy flow of the conversation. It was just like any other time they'd discussed a case.
And she proved morphine was no match to her hound gut when it came to connect the dots. "They're hardly of age and Joey's the only white in the pack. Kyle's Hispanic and the middleman is black. We need to warn them."
He nodded and produced his phone to hide another smile at her quick reply. "Who should we call?"
Ghostbusters? She glanced at her phone on the nightstand, out of her reach. He handed it over to her and she dialed Kurt on speaker.
The tech was all alone in the deserted office, and sounded overly happy at picking up her call.
"Save your flapping tail. I ain't giving you the days off for the LOL event," she said.
"I'm hurt, Reg. Can't I be just happy that you're getting better?"
"Okay, whoever you are, release my tech and put'im on the phone. I need'im to patch me through with Russell, Banks and Cooper."
While Kurt called them, he told Gillian the tale of the Iron Lady kicking the team out. It made her giggle until the stitches decided it was enough fun with so little morphine.
She rested her phone by her tea on the tall table before her. Her eyes moved as if drawn by a magnet to Brock's face—his chiseled cheekbones, his focused scowl, his thin lips. She had to fight back one of her stupid smiles at his stubble. Her fingers tinkled, wanting so bad to scratch it softly. It was so waking up together.
Banks' voice distracted her. He sounded tired and grumpy, but he paid attention to Brock's explanation. And of course he argued at the suggestion of letting the FBI deal with Joey's pack. Gillian's eyes slid down, from Brock's face to his hand, hanging off the armrest onto his lap.
When Brock failed to dissuade Banks, she kicked herself back to the conversation. "Look, Bob, we don't wanna have Boston on the national news over this. And the PD wrongly accused of racist happy trigger." As she spoke, she dropped her hand on the bed by her legs.
"Reg's right, Bob," said Russell. "Even if they're cop killers, that won't matter anymore once the media take the story over."
Brock was about to speak when Gillian's hand rested on his wrist. He looked up at her, thinking she needed something, but she kept her eyes on the phone with a grave frown.
"I'll talk to the Commissioner," said Cooper. "We need to instruct the whole PD to let us handle the arrest."
"Well, good luck with that, ma'am," grunted Banks.
"It's gonna be us, Bob, not real feds, y'know," Gillian said.
"Excuse me?" said Cooper, taking mortal offense.
Brock took Gillian's hand in a casual, natural way. She thought she'd blush and let out the silliest giggle. Instead, she felt lighter, relaxed. Blurting out last night didn't feel like a dooming confession as she'd thought at first. For some reason, it'd been liberating. And Brock's response... Well, she'd cherish every of his words for the rest of her life.
"Reg means the officers know us. We're not strangers. So it's just as if one in blue made the arrest," Russell said, amused.
"First we need to find them," said Brock.
"We have all the available staff checking traffic cameras. And officers on the street looking for them," said Banks. "It's just a matter of time."
