Chapter Text

Sharon Wallowski tapped her fingernails against her desk to the staccato beat of the lullaby her mother used to sing. The comfort barely touched her in the state she was in, even when she began to hum the tune quietly to herself. Today her heart would not rest because her mind was racing too fast in a direction she never imagined. She couldn’t tell if she would find herself at a dead end. Her stomach roiled and bile rose up in her throat, the bitter acid taste strong in her mouth as the wall clock clicked monotonously. In ten minutes, everything would be an unknown. Her shift would end and she would have to leave the precinct, but she couldn’t go home, not right away. There was something she had to do first, something she had never wanted to do.

She could ruin everything. If the one painful thing she couldn’t protect them from came between them, she could never forgive herself. She was already that hindrance between them, that sore spot that never healed. And now she had sharp edges. Now she could draw blood. But she had never wanted to be a weapon, never wanted to make them recoil from each other because of her sting. It was never supposed to happen this way.

Sharon jumped as the clock chimed five, instantly ceasing her song. It was time. Now or never. She stuffed her keys into the pocket of her jeans and closed up the file she had been ignoring for the past hour, locking it in a desk drawer. She called out a goodbye to her co-workers as she made her way out of the building and into the blinding sun, trying to ignore the echo of her rapid pulse. Shading her eyes with her hand, she searched out her car and walked over to it. The door handle was cold under her fingers and she clutched it tightly, the image of her white-knuckled fist gripping even whiter plastic fresh in her mind. She pulled open the door and sunk into the hot leather seat. Procrastination was easy as she let the warm air from outside cool the air of her car slightly, breathing in the summer breeze. But she was on a time limit. She snapped the door closed and shut her eyes too, bringing forth images of puppies and ocean waves to steel her resolve. She could do this. She didn’t need to be so afraid. She could do this.

She drove the familiar path slower than she could have, all of her breaths measured. It wasn’t a long drive. Within twenty minutes she had arrived at the Lightman Group, the building tall and imposing in its sleek and modern design. The lot was practically empty as people filed out for the day, allowing Sharon to get a close parking spot. She pushed open the door and got to the elevator just as it opened and let a flood of people out. When it had emptied, she stepped in and wrung her hands together before clicking the button for the fourteenth floor. They would see everything if she didn’t take action. She employed the skills that Cal had taught her that day in his living room, when he had rested his fingers on her cheeks just firmly enough that she could feel every tiny muscle in her face. She relaxed her face now like she had under his touch, becoming the picture of neutrality. It flowed into her shoulders and down her back, making her appear calm in a way she didn’t think she could ever feel again. When the elevator pinged and the metal doors slid open, she was ready. With her head up high, she walked into the lobby where the secretary, Anna, had been packing up her things to leave.

“Hey Anna, is Lightman still around by any chance?” Sharon asked as she approached the tall desk.

“Yeah. He and Dr. Foster are finishing up a case in his office, I think,” Anna said, pointing a polite smile her way.

Sharon refused to let her face flicker. She had expected they’d be together, even imagined it’d be an issue trying to get Cal alone when Foster so clearly disliked her presence around him at all. She simply nodded her thanks to Anna and walked down towards the offices. When she reached the closed door, she hesitated and then reached out to knock.

“S’open!” rang out with a British lilt, sending her brain into overdrive.

How did she say it? How did she get him to let her say it?

She pushed open the door and took a tentative step inside. Cal was sitting in his desk chair while Foster sat perched on the edge of his desk, close enough to touch. It didn’t look different, but it was. She could tell by the way they looked at each other that what she heard was true and it only served to put a lump in her throat. There used to be longing between them when they were so close, even fear. But there wasn’t a speck of tension between them anymore, just love. Cal watched Foster as she turned to see her standing dumbly. He barely looked up at the intrusion at all until he noticed it was her who stood there. She was unwelcome. It was obvious before Cal said a word. But pain niggled and that’s what she was. She couldn’t just go away.

“Whatever case you’re on, we can’t help you,” Cal said.

Sharon sighed. “It’s not a case.”

“Then we definitely can’t help you,” he said.

She shifted from foot to foot, not knowing how to bring it up at all, nonetheless in front of the love of his life. Cal shifted his focus again, picking up a photo from the desk in front of him and examining it, marking it with a permanent marker.

“I need to talk to you… alone,” she said.

“You’re still here?”

“Cal,” she practically begged, unable to get him to understand. She let her face twist, let him see, hoped he would care when he saw it.

“Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of Foster.” He said it firmly, like there was not a single thing in the world he wouldn’t trust her with. But this was big. It would hurt them both, trust be damned.

She didn’t want to come out with it, but she couldn’t just walk away without letting him know. That would be worse. It had to be worse to lie. So Sharon was honest, dropped into a guilty defeat. Her eyes focused on her feet and when she looked back up, her forehead was tense between upturned brows. Foster tilted her head as she appraised her, her mouth flicking into a frown.

“Cal,” Foster spoke with an intimate softness. “It’s okay. You two talk and I’ll call you later.”

The woman was an angel. Even disliking her as much as she did, she was empathetic. Sharon couldn’t imagine what the truth would do to her, almost didn’t want to know.

“No need,” Cal insisted, placing his hand over hers and lowering his volume as he continued to speak. “No more secrets.”

“I really think it’d be better if-" Sharon started.

“Shazzer,” he said, exasperated. “Get to the point, yeah?”

She sighed again. “Okay,” she said.

A stain on the wallpaper caught her attention and she stared at it, feeling numb even as she practiced the words she was going to say. It wasn't her fault, it just was. She didn’t have to feel guilty. She tore her eyes from the distance and focused them, glancing over Foster before settling on Cal.

“I’m pregnant. Um, from you.” The words nearly ran together in her haste.

The silence that followed was thick. Cal’s jaw fell slack and Foster blinked quickly, slowly drawing away from Cal’s proximity.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna go,” she said as she stood. “You talk. I’m gonna… yeah.”

The poor woman was practically a blur, she walked out so quickly, barely managing an awkward gesture towards the door before she was through it. Cal didn’t even say anything as she departed, just stared after her, then turned his attention to Sharon, almost unblinking. Sharon knew it would hit hard. It was why she hadn’t wanted to say it. But, she couldn’t keep it a secret. It would be even more wrong. He would hate her for not giving him a chance with this child. His own daughter was everything to him.

Finally getting a grip on himself, Cal managed words. “Is there something I’m not getting here? We were careful.”

“Freak accident?” She laughed, but he just stared. “I don’t get it either, but it’s true. I, um, have blood test results. Ten weeks.”

She watched as he worked the math, counting back the months. She knew the exact date of conception and he would too. It was the last time, the goodbye after deciding that whatever it was between them was not enough. It had been just after the last case they had worked together, the one he had asked her to take instead of the other way ‘round. It was for Foster, that case. She had looked pale and small, delicate as Sharon had questioned her about what she had seen before she found her friend murdered. Cal had hovered and given her his jacket, kept her from falling apart. He had loved her then. He just couldn’t admit it yet. He loved Foster and then he had slept with her instead and it wasn’t supposed to come between them but now it was a wedge in what was otherwise perfect. Now their one night lapse in judgement could impede on the truly special bond between Cal and Foster.

“Claire,” he said quietly, obviously remembering the same thing as she had. “Just my bloody luck.”

“This was never supposed to happen,” she said. “God, it’s just the worst timing ever with you and Foster having just… This was never supposed to happen.”

He was silent again and Sharon couldn't keep her stomach from flipping as he looked at her, couldn’t control the rolling waves of anxiety in her gut. He tilted his head to study her, to really look.

“What are you… what do you plan on doing?” he asked.

Sharon looked down and broke out in a grin. There was a tiny gleam of happiness in what was bleak in so many ways. When she looked back up, her smile was contained to her eyes. With a melodious laugh, she said, “I’m going to be a mother.”

Chapter Text

It was Cal Lightman’s least favourite season. With the windchill and falling leaves came the culture of conformity, of lies; masses of people dressed in sweaters and boots and the popularity of all things pumpkin-spiced skyrocketed. Cal stood in the line at the little café that Gill liked so much, breathing in the aroma of roasted coffee and butter. It was the morning rush and the venue was filled with business professionals and teens on their way to work or school. He took in the aesthetics as Emily put it, watching the baristas swirl whipped cream in paper cups or make leaves out of latte foam. It was worse than Christmas. At least the winter holiday could be redeemed by the joy on his daughter's face, make it all worth the dishonesty. But there was no such redemption in autumn. It was just a cult-like behaviour spreading across the city like wildfire.

When it came time to order, he asked for two drinks to go and some pastries. He even managed to smile at the barista who served him, though it probably resembled more of a grimace. The price tag was steep. It would be worth it, though, for Gillian. The careful spiral of whipped cream with a sprinkle of cinnamon would make her smile. Cal could see it spreading behind his eyelids, straight white teeth and sparkling blue eyes. He snapped out of his reverie at the call of his surname, reaching out to take the two cups and brown paper bag.

Cal made his way out of the shop and towards the Group. It was just down the block, so it didn't take too long. He took the elevator to the correct floor and stepped out carefully so as not to tip the drinks he held. Passing the reception desk without even a nod of acknowledgment to the secretary standing behind it, he headed straight for Gillian’s office at the end of the hall. He adjusted his load to free a hand for knocking, balancing a cup against his forearm. Gillian looked up at the sound and smiled, so he pushed open the glass door and walked towards her.

“Morning, Love,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss against her cheek.

“Morning.” She smiled up at him.

She looked good. There were no vestiges of any of the emotions he had been seeing on her lately. When he started making an effort to be more understanding and gentle with her, she had started to look so much happier. He didn't know if he could believe that it would stay that way, but he hoped it could. It would be all on him if it didn't. Pushing his self-deprecating comments out of his mind, he brought her back into focus. He smiled, grinned rather, and held the paper coffee cup out for her to take. Her fingers brushed his as she reached for the cup. She did it on purpose, she always did.

“Thought you could use a treat,” he said. “The case yesterday, you did perfect.”

Gillian blushed at the praise but nodded her head anyway. “Thank you. For the coffee and the compliment.”

He brushed off the comment, simply smiling at her. “It's a pumpkin spice something or the other. It’s the cool thing, hip."

Gillian laughed. “Thanks for considering my image. I mean, I couldn’t be seen with anything else.”

Cal smirked, finding the sparkling blue of Gillian’s eyes. He wanted to keep it there. “So what’s the plan for the day?”

He sunk into the chair opposite her, letting his legs knock against hers as he stretched out. She adjusted her legs against his, fiddling with the plastic tab on the lid of her coffee cup. He sipped his own black coffee and peeked into the paper bag, pulling out an apple strudel. He tilted the bag in indication to Gillian. She reached in blindly, pulling out a matching strudel and plucking a tissue from the box on her desk to place it on. Not picky, she.

“Budget reports for me,” she said. “And while you’re here, I have some documents I need you to read over.”

“Okay, give them here,” he said.

Gillian reached over for the stack of blue folders compiled with two binder clips. Cal took the stack from her and dropped it on his lap.

“And then we have the meeting at three with the Rainers,” Gillian said.

Oh no. He blinked a few times, actively fighting the desire to clench his jaw. “Three?” he asked.

“What’s wrong? It’s been on the books for weeks,” Gillian said, leaning forward. She passed to sweep back the lock of hair that swung with her.

“It’s Shazzer’s ultrasound,” he said. “At half two.”

Gillian tried a smile, but let it fall neutral quickly.

“Oh,” she said. “It's okay. I can cover it.”

Gillian looked down, her mouth pinched. She rose her head again quickly as if she’d forgotten to hide from him. It was disconcerting, at best, that she didn’t seem to feel like she could express herself truly. She thought she had to lie for him. He would never ask her to, not now, not again. It was a request he had regretted before it had even left his mouth. He isn’t going to do that again. He's just not.

“Gill,” Cal tried.

“It’s important,” Gillian said. “You should be there.”

“I’m sorry. I should've checked the calendar.”

Gillian shook her head.

“Oy, don’t do that. You’re allowed to be… whatever it is you are right now. I'm not asking you to lie to me. I didn’t mean to make you feel so off.”

“Off?” said Gillian, wrinkling her nose.

“I just mean, well, it’s fair if you’re upset. It’s honest. I’ve been making a right muck of things.”

She didn’t disagree, just sat quietly and pensively. But things had been very… off between them; the word was more fitting than he figured. There was nothing he could do now to take it back. It was Newton’s law. He pushed and the world pushed back. It was just a thing that happened that they all had to deal with.

“You didn’t intend to,” Gillian gave freely. “It's not your fault, not anyone’s fault.”

“Yeah,” he said. “But the way things go has to change. I have to let you know, keep from letting you down.”

Gillian was soft edges, her eyes smiling though her mouth didn’t. More than he deserved, really. She reached out to stroke his cheek and he leaned into the touch.

“Yeah,” she said.

“Tired of fighting with you, yeah?”

He ran his hand back through his hair, leaning back into his chair and further from her.

There had been so much fighting. She was devastated by it. It wasn't that it happened. It was that it happened with Shazzer, that it happened at exactly the wrong time. And when Gillian had stopped just reacting, actually gave it a thought, there was anger and jealousy. Well, it was Wallowski, the only woman who made Gillian ever fear he would lose his own life, aside from his mother of course. According to Gillian, Sharon Wallowski was just the crooked cop that made him careless, made him disloyal, made him ask her to lie for, made her just as disloyal and dishonest herself. He could understand it would be hard to trust the two of them after that. It was fair. He had tested her loyalty that day. And it was all so much worse with the memory of his silent confession of love to Gillian just before, only expected nothing so refused to look at her face. If he had he would've known that she loved him just as much, that she only needed more time.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” Gillian said softly.

“I know,” he said. He sipped at his coffee, circulating words in his head.

“I love you,” she offered, tilting her head towards him. It was almost an apology, though she had no reason to give one. He smiled in response.

“I love you too,” he replied.

“I just have to… we need to adjust, find a balance,” she said, pausing to chew her bottom lip thoughtfully. “Like with Zoe.”

“Wallowski is a lot more civil than Zoe,” Cal said with a shrug. “Not sure it’s a fair comparison.”

He leaves out the fact that their relationship was different now too, that when forced to find a balance then it was as a friend, not a partner. Well, not a romantic partner.

“You get the point. There’s boundaries to set and things to talk about. We should be talking,” Gill said. “Then, things like ‘The Zoo Incident’ won’t happen.”

Cal cringed at the mention, a furrow appearing between his brows as he remembered. It had been a mess of miscommunication and an awful experience all around. Emily had just sat there as Zoe yelled, taking away the fun of a day out. Cal had yelled too, but Gillian never raised her voice. She was civil and understanding. She was scared of stepping on toes. She was Gillian . There was no way she’d go as low as Zoe had.

“You’re talking into the future, Love,” he said.

“Except I’m not. Grown-up boundaries are a thing, too.”

“Are they?” Cal asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Mmhmm, totally. I’ll even start,” she said. “I’m not comfortable when you break commitments at work or home to help out Wallowski.”

He watched her, finding no anger, just honesty. “Won’t happen again, promise. Anything else?”

“It's your turn,” Gillian said, gesturing in front of her. She watched him just as carefully as he thought it through, tapping his woven hands against his lip. He restrained himself from the instinct to close himself off to her watching. He let her watch him think, her eyes burning holes through his skin.

“Um… I don’t like it when you act like something I’ve done doesn’t bother you when it does.”

Gillian paused momentarily, then nodded. Her smile became a smirk as she repeated his words. “Noted. Won’t happen again, promise.”

They fell silent for a few minutes and Cal wondered how it was that Gill could turn anything on its head. He was supposed to be comforting Gill, but she was comforting him, showing him that everything would be alright. It was her magic trick, her superpower.

“Truth?” she asked, blue eyes intent on his.

“Always truth,” he said.

“I don’t love any of this, but I love you. So I don’t care what you have to do. I want you to do it. I just don’t want you to be afraid to tell me things because you’re afraid I’ll feel hurt and leave because… I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Gill said.

Cal hadn’t realised it was exactly what he needed to hear. He blinked rapidly to discourage the random tear that wanted to fall and entwined his fingers with Gill’s across the table. He encouraged her to finish her thought with a glance.

“Don’t shut me out, okay? I can take it. I can’t be there for you if you don’t show me what you need,” she said.

“I’ll do my level best,” he said, beyond pleased.

“Thank you.”

She smiled at him again like he was this odd guy, like he wouldn’t do whatever she asked just because it was her that was doing the asking.

“So,” Cal grinned, crossing one ankle over the other. “The ‘Zoo Incident’, huh? Gave it a name and everything?”

Gillian narrowed her eyes, even as they lit up in humour. “We're not talking about it.”

“Oy! You brought it up!”

Gillian’s only reply was a smile just for him. There was nothing else he needed.

***

Shazzer was nervous. She wasn’t half as good at hiding it as she thought. Even with her face set in stone, her eyes darted around the small hospital room and focused on nothing. Her fingers couldn’t keep still, twisting up in the corner of her tee as she put even pressure against her abdomen with the heel of her palm. Cal couldn’t even watch the rapid bouncing of her foot.

“On a scale of one to right bloody now, how badly do you have to pee?” Cal said, earning a pointed glare. And a smile.

She admitted it, then. She was antsy. Cal decided to go the route of comfort. It had become his strength in these past few weeks. He’d learned that Sharon didn’t particularly appreciate the common sentiment, even if spoken genuinely. They always read as fake to her, insincere. She found comfort in normalcy, in the mundane, in Cal being his usual exasperating self. Every time she’d roll her eyes at him and sigh, her pinched features would get looser, her anxious extremities would settle into stillness. He could be obnoxious. He was great at that. He just had to make her think he would behave first.

Settling further into his chair, his legs set out at impossible angles, he spread a slow smirk and focused on the woman before him. He asked her about her day, about her newest work partner and her last few cases. It was not a new conversation. It was ordinary. She told him how boring it was to ride a desk. Then he asked her again, how much she needed to pee. It was the little line between her brows that made it necessary. It was the answer that made him laugh.

"Goddammit Lightman!" she said, smiling despite herself.

It was okay. She would be okay. With that, the doctor entered the room, surveying the scene before her before she began to speak.

"Sharon Wallowski?" She asked, receiving a nod from the other woman.

"I'm Doctor Pennefield, I'll be performing your ultrasound today," the doctor said, sliding her hair behind her ears.

“Okay,” Sharon said, sitting up further.

“You’re probably familiar by now, I just need to ask whether you two would like to know the sex?” She raised her brows in question, looking at the pair.

“Nah,” Cal explained. “We love a good surprise, they’re our forte.”

Sharon stuck her finger in his ribs.

“Oy!” He complained, rubbing the spot. “I’m being honest!”

“That’s enough out of you,” Sharon said.

Dr. Pennefield smiled in amusement, walking around the room to collect equipment. She made her way to Sharon and asked her to lift her shirt. Cal looked up, eyes meeting Sharon’s in silent reassurance. She lifted her shirt and the doctor warned her about the cold before she squeezed the gel onto her stomach. Cal watched the careful routine, the device being used on Sharon. Then he looked at the screen where Sharon was looking, the black and white bands and blobs. That was his baby, it was.

“Reckon I’m meant to see a person?” he joked, his mind on those abstract photos Gillian had in her desk from a prior case, making people guess which images were present within them.

“That’s the face,” Dr. Pennefield said, pointing to a lighter spot on the image.

Cal squinted at it, even though he could see it just fine. Then he grinned. He looked to Sharon, found her matching smile, the tears she tried to hide ad the doctor droned on about how good everything was looking. That was his baby, his baby. Fall was no longer his least favourite season, he thought. He’d have to find a new one.

Chapter Text

Gillian clutched the steering wheel tightly, hearing only her heartbeat in her ears and not the soft music coming from the speakers. When she reached a stoplight, she snuck a peak at Cal in the passenger’s seat. He was sitting ramrod straight, a sight so uncharacteristic that Gillian almost didn’t believe it was real. She had never seen Cal this nervous. The energy rolled off him and filled the air, stretching each particle taut. She didn’t want to breathe it in, didn’t want to be as nervous as Cal. But she was. Wallowski was having her baby.

Gillian attempted to calm herself, taking slow breaths to compensate for her thundering heart. She didn’t think she would be this nervous but there was so much that hadn’t even crossed her mind until she had heard that Wallowski had gone into labour. Everything was changing. It was one thing to know that Wallowski was pregnant by Cal, but another thing entirely to actually meet that child. A shiver passed through her at the thought. She would love that child as much as she loved its father, that much was certain. But nothing else was. There was no security in any of it, no promise that she wouldn’t lose them both to the lure of happy families or hurdles she hadn’t yet imagined, hadn’t yet worked out solutions to in her head. She didn’t even know what Cal wanted. All she knew was that despite everything she had thought she knew, part of her really wanted Cal and his newest child to be part of a perfect little nuclear family. It was a desire she had suppressed so deeply, it surprised her when it came up. She didn’t want to want that.

The hospital parking lot was busy and Gillian had to spend a long while in search of a place to park. When she finally found a spot and pulled in, she saw that Cal hadn’t even noticed. He was staring at nothing, just lost in his own head. His jaw was slack, eyes wide. Was he surprised, really, or covering up his fear? Gillian wanted to remind him that true surprise only lasted a microsecond but she held her tongue. She would give him a break. Instead, she released her seatbelt and reached for his hand, smiling as he turned towards her. When they touched, he let his mask fall to reveal a wild grin. He squeezed her hand before letting go to get out of the car. Gillian let out a breath as slowly as she could, blinking against the tears that sprung up so suddenly. It might be overwhelming, but there was no reason to cry. Cal was with her. Gillian pushed her own door open and met Cal at the other end of the car, their hands coming back together like magnets with opposite poles. They walked into the hospital as a unit. Gillian wouldn’t stand to leave any other way.

It was no surprise that the hospital was busy considering the state of the parking facilities. Professionals in scrubs walked across the linoleum with precise determination and people moved forward in a rush. The smell of antiseptic clogged up Gillian’s nose as she led Cal through the chaos to the reception desk and asked the nurse to point her towards the obstetrics ward. Gillian followed the directions diligently, pulling Cal along behind her. The chorus of pained noises could be enough direction in themselves. Gillian listened out for the tone of Wallowski’s voice as she searched out the nursing station, but it was a big hospital and she couldn’t discern any one tone; they all blended together to sound like one joint groan, near never-ending. She asked for a room number for Sharon Wallowski and listened as it was told to her.

“Cal, did you get that?” Gillian asked, getting his attention. He had been staring down the hallway, empty for the moment.

“Wait. You’re coming, right?” His eyebrows furrowed together and his pitch tightened a tone or two higher.

“Cal,” she said softly. “I hardly think I’d be welcome. It’s a very… intimate event. I’ll wait for you in the waiting room over there if you need me.”

Cal followed Gillian’s index finger with his gaze to the sectioned area where people sat waiting. There were a few families talking amongst themselves, pleased anticipation on their faces. Cal still looked concerned, so Gillian stood taller and let go of his hand. Let him believe that she could do it alone. It was true. She could do it alone.

“I don’t like it,” Cal said, trying not to pout.

“Hey, at least I get to avoid all the messy bits and, you know, preserve the opinion that childbirth is beautiful,” Gillian joked, smirking.

Cal laughed at that, the musical tones as comforting as the hug he drew her into. He rubbed along her back and she sighed. After a moment, she pulled away. It was easier now to send him away.

“Go, Cal,” she encouraged. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” He kissed her briefly and walked off in the direction of the room pointed out by the nurse. His gait was normal again as he walked quickly away, which meant incredibly abnormal. That was good at this point. She hoped it meant he was less nervous.

Gillian found an empty seat in the waiting area and pulled her novel from her purse. She opened it to her place and tried to focus on the pages, but they blurred beneath her eyes. She slipped into thought instead, wondering whether the baby would look more like Cal or Wallowski, would have brown eyes or hazel. Either way, the child would be beautiful. Elena if it was a girl and Noah if it was a boy. Gillian smiled into her book at the thought of a child in her life. It didn’t have to be hers to give her happiness. It was the best she could have anyway.

“Excited?” asked the woman beside her.

Gillian was surprised, but smiled anyway. “You could say that.”

When the only reply was a knowing smile, Gillian returned to her book. She wanted everything concrete. She wanted to know this baby. And time was coming. Just slowly.

It was hours before she heard anything. When Cal walked into the waiting room grinning ear to ear, she stood instantly, picking up her bag and making her way to him.

“They’re okay?” Gillian asked, already knowing the answer.

“They’re amazing,” Cal said. He wanted to ground himself, reaching out for Gillian. She let him loop his arms low on her back and stand close.

“You’re amazing,” Gillian said, sinking into the embrace.

“Come on,” Cal said, pulling away. “Come meet Elena.”

Gillian’s hand felt small in his, but she squeezed tight, letting him lead her to the hospital room. He gave a knock before pushing the door open slowly, giving a smile.

“Hi,” Gillian said in the fragility of the silence, meeting Sharon’s eyes. “Congratulations.”

Sharon shifted, sitting higher in the bed, making the bundle in her arms more visible. The blanket was white, swaddling the newborn tightly. She was small, almost didn’t seem real. The both of them, really.

“Thank you,” Sharon said.

Sharon’s smile was kind, genuine. It was not a lie, not an act extended because she felt she had to. Gillian was not unwelcome. She took a step forward, unable to remove the hesitancy from it.

“Her name is Elena Marie,” Sharon said, locking eyes with Gillian. “Seven pounds even. Healthy.”

Gillian let out a breath. She moved closer, close enough to see… and oh, she was beautiful. She had been cleaned up well and just looked so pink against the patch of fine dark hair on her head. Her eyes were closed and her tiny mouth was slack in slumber. Elena was perfect, the name fit so perfectly.

“She’s beautiful,” Gillian said. “That sounds so cliché, but I mean it.”

“She is,” Sharon agreed. “She’s perfect.”

“Perfect.” It was an echo on Gillian’s lips and she turned back to look at Cal, eyes glistening. He was still standing near the entranceway, watching the two of them interact. At Gillian’s non-verbal cue, he moved closer, sidling up to her side and wrapping an arm around her. It boded well, she thought, that he still felt this constant need to be close to her. She smiled at him, down because her heels gave her the advantage of height. He gave her a look as the tears gathered, but she shook her head. It wasn’t about sadness, not about her inability to have this herself. It was overwhelming happiness that bubbled up and spilled over. It was the joy of being included despite all of the rocky slopes of history that stood between them, making her fear losing her footing on the terrain. It was Cal beside her, the harness that would ensure she didn’t fall.

“I’m really happy for you, both of you,” she said.

Cal’s fingers were a warm comfort, an anchor, as they reached into the hair at her nape. The pressure urged her to lean closer, rest her head against his shoulder. She breathed in the musk of him, cologne at his collar, and smiled. In this moment, she didn’t feel like falling was a possibility. Not at all. This was her security.

***

The weeks had passed in slow motion. The snow had stopped falling, ice and bitter cold taking its place. It was in flux, everything was. Gillian found herself floundering, especially at first. Cal and Wallowski now had this baby, this living, breathing beautiful baby and Gillian didn’t know how to help. She wanted to, saw how tired the two new parents were, but she just didn’t know how. She would figure it out, find a way to give them rest. She had meant to talk about it with Cal tonight.

With Cal on her mind, Gillian checked her watch again. The time had indeed passed slowly, especially because Cal was running late. Apparently he was very late. It had been forty-five minutes since he was supposed to have arrived. Gillian looked at the wine in her glass and caught a look at its mirror image, a glass of wine for Cal. It turned her stomach.

Two more minutes and she would go, she told herself, looking out at the other patrons at the restaurant. She felt uneasy, her heeled foot tapping a rapid tattoo against the flooring as she counted the couples around the room. People were looking at her like a fish in a bowl. It would have been merely uncomfortable if she were like everyone else, but it was humiliating because she saw each emotion that passed over their faces. It was more than simple compassion, twisted more. Her cheeks flamed as she brought out her phone, fiddling with it to appear as if she were texting. She flagged down the waiter at the next chance she got. She asked for the cheque, making up an excuse. She heard his pity, his apology even though she refused to look at him. Gillian Foster had never been stood up before.

She was a little pissed actually, that it had to be him. He had promised her. He had made promises and broke them. Couldn’t even ‘fess up with a phone call to cancel, to apologize. She shrugged on her coat with a jerk, pushing buttons through holes in sharp movements. She stopped herself when she almost tore a buttonhole right through. It wasn’t about anger. It was about disappointment. She had put so much care into giving him access to his daughter, freeing him from too much responsibility to her, to them.

She gave him a call, but it went to voicemail. She ground her teeth, debating going home. It would be nice to close herself in, close herself off, but not for long. She had too much too lose in doing that, not when she’d found so much happiness. She had always thought she and Cal would end up together. It felt as sure as the sun was to rise. Yeah, he could be a total pain in the neck some days and pissed her off others but it was only true because he was important to her. What he did mattered. And it was the comfort of his home that she craved on her bad days; it was Emily and Elena and him . It didn’t matter that he was the cause. He was also the cure.

She made her way to the Lightman home, finding the driveway empty when she arrived. So he wasn’t here. He had to be at Sharon’s with Elena. The thought twisted in her gut a jealousy that had burned within her for weeks, months if she was being honest. For a moment, she wished that the roles had been reversed, that the child could be hers. Cal would choose her, he always would. And they could be something. Gillian wouldn’t have to walk on tiptoes around the mother of his child, afraid to step on toes. She wouldn’t have to carve a place for herself where there wasn’t one naturally, wouldn’t have to feel as if every moment she had shared with Elena were something stolen. The thought was troubling, that she still had yet to find where she fit in all this, that nothing had fallen together the way she imagined it would. She walked up the drive and unlocked the door, pushing through with a frown on her face.

She almost walked right into Emily as she stepped through the doorway, an apology instantly tripping over her tongue.

“I wasn’t looking where I was going,” she explained softly, looking down to check whether or not she had trampled over the girl’s bare toes.

“It’s okay,” Emily said. “You didn’t get me.”

Gillian smiled, slipping out of her heels just in case. “Thank God.”

“I thought you and dad were getting dinner.” Emily smiled in confusion. “I was going to go out.”

“Change of plans,” Gillian forced ambivalence into her tone, onto her features. “I’m just going to wait for him here. But by all means, go if you have plans.”

Emily looked down to where her socks and shoes lay on the ground. “I have a few minutes. If you want to talk.”

Gillian didn’t even try to cover up the surprise at Emily’s adept mind. Too much like her father, that one. She gave a smile, almost sheepish, and watched the furrow between the girl’s brows grow deeper.

“I’m alright,” she said, surprised at the truth of her own words.

“Okay.” Emily looked at her deeply, studying the lines of muscle and flesh. “Just… you’re not alone in that. ”

Emily gestured towards the expression on her face.

“If you want to talk,” Gillian said, leaving the offer in the air.

“I’m alright,” Emily said. She smirked at the echo.

Gillian held her shoulder for a minute in comfort, moving further into the house. Emily turned, stopping Gillian from moving past her so she could give her a hug. Gillian sunk into the embrace, channeling all the love and compassion she was fed right back.  

“I won’t be out too late,” Emily said as she pulled back, picking up her socks and pulling them over her feet.

“Okay. Have fun,” Gillian insisted.

Emily agreed that she would, so Gillian gave a wave and continued on her way to the kitchen. She would snack and then she would wait. Then she would open herself up and just be honest, just tell him what all of this felt like. The door opened and Gillian echoed Emily’s call goodbye, pouring a glass of water from the canister. She drank it down slowly, carrying it with her as she looked for something appetising. The cupboards were stark of snack food and the fridge full of takeout containers. They needed to do the shopping. Sighing, Gillian slid a slice of bread into the toaster oven.

She waited for it to brown, trying to decide what she was going to say to him, how she was going to say it so it sounded right to her. Despite herself, she didn’t feel anger. She felt longing and jealousy and slight shame. She felt like there was no room for her. Gillian shook herself out of her thoughts, not wanting to linger, and buttered her toast.

She had finished eating and begun pouring herself a glass of wine by the time Cal showed up, throwing open the kitchen door with force. It rattled against the wall as he moved out of the doorway. Gillian looked at him and put down the bottle. He had tension written on him in capital letters, up in his shoulders and down his arms. She moved around the room to get a tumbler and poured a finger of bourbon. Eyes on his, she took down the drink in one gulp. Then she set about pouring another, handing it over to Cal.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking it from her.

She knew. That much, she knew. “Yeah.”

He looked down into the tumbler, mouth pinched. “You knew that,” he said, turning it in his hands.

Gillian waited, leaning a hip back against the kitchen counter. He took a few steps closer, shutting the door behind him. “I’ve no excuse.” He shrugged.

“No,” she said, not bitterly but sad. It crunched his face up anyway. “But an explanation would be nice.”

“Elena was sick. Shazzer was… frustrated. Thought I should help, yeah?”

She didn’t look at him, just traced a finger around the mouth of her wine glass, still sitting on the granite. “You could’ve called. I’d have understood.”

When she looked up, she was pouting. He was sad. It didn’t make sense to her why. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“It’s humiliating,” she added. “Everyone looking at you like they know , like they’re better than you.”

She shook her head, finding the wince on his mouth hard to bear. “God, I don’t mean to lay it on so thick. I know you didn’t mean for that.”

Cal hung his head. “Deserve it, don’t I? Made some promises to you.”

“You did, yeah. But it doesn’t mean I get to be pissy.”

She lifted her wine glass towards her, but thought better of it, holding it like a shield in front of her chest, like it would somehow protect her heart. She feigned interest in the linoleum. “I forgive you.”

The offer was soft and warm and so Gillian . She peered up through her lashes as he crumbled under the weight of it, or perhaps the phantom weight of a freedom unexpected. A lump rose in her throat as she watched him, a watery smile coming up on her face to match. “You do know that I love her, right? I love her too?”

“‘Course I see it, Gill. ‘Course I do.” He walked up to her, plucking the glass from her hand by its stem. He crowded into her space, placing both the glass and the tumbler on the table. Then he moved back, just far enough to see her as she spoke, understand her feelings.

“I just… I don’t know where I fit.”

She lifted her arms in a half-hearted shrug. She didn’t want to cry, but the tears burned in her eyes. His had gotten so soft as they searched over her, like melted chocolate. She curled up her hands and wrapped them around herself, conscious not to wrap them too low for fear he would misinterpret her actions. She was hoping for a favourable answer, hoping to hear that they would figure it out together, that he’d be sure of it.

“Come here,” he insisted, motioning for her to come closer. Gillian hesitated only a moment before stepping forward into his embrace. Her cheek found a home on his chest, nose buried between them. Her arms viced around him, fists stones in his back. One of his hands found its way onto her head, brushing her hair back with soft repetition.

“It’s right here. You belong right here,” he said.

Gillian let out a half a sob, swallowing the welling threat of another down a dry throat.

“That’s a promise, that is. One not even a wanker like me could break.”

She worked her jaw, absorbing it. Then she smiled against his chest.

“You still owe me dinner,” she said as she set them face to face, arms still wrapped around each other.

“Not gonna let me get away with that one, are you?” He smiled sheepishly.

“About food?” She smirked. “Never.”

“That’s my girl,” he said. It sounded like relief and love and regret. She could take that. She grinned slowly.

“And dessert.”

Chapter Text

The quiet of the hour was disrupted by the repetitive scratch of metal on metal. Emily looked up from her stool at the kitchen island to watch Gillian’s arm move inside the no longer dirty pot. With a sigh, she stood and made her way over to the sink, placing her hands against Gillian’s arms to still them. Gillian hesitated for a moment and then gently placed the pot into the sink.

“The pot is clean,” Emily said, grasping Gillian’s hand until she lets the steel wool fall into the sink. “Your fingers are going to fall off.”

Emily took a step back, allowing Gillian room to face her. Gillian was pouting, but Emily wasn’t moved.

“It’s just Sharon,” she said.

“It’s Easter,” Gillian said, voice rounded soft.

“And? We don’t even celebrate Easter. It’s alright, Gill. Stop fussing.”

Emily ignored the daggers in the back of her head as she turned on the tap to rinse the suds out of the pot. She reached for a towel and thoroughly dried it off. Despite the platitudes offered, Emily knew it was an important day. The five of them hadn’t spent much time all together like the family they were meant to be. So even though spending the holiday together was supposed to be relaxing, it really did have added significance. Tonight was going to be the proof that all their individual efforts would make everything come together. It had to be.

Emily had gotten the chance to bond one on one with her sister. To allow her dad and Sharon a few hours of rest, she’d volunteered to watch Elena. For a half hour, Elena had cried, but after a diaper change and bottle feed, she fell asleep tucked in Emily’s arms and didn’t rouse until her mother came to get her. It was sweet. It made Emily feel closer to the both of them.

Gillian smiled more these days, was freer with her affection, no longer quite as afraid to interact. It was nice to see the change on her, the lack of jealousy and fear. She had felt it too, but it was slipping away all around. There were only the little shards that remained of the mess, too small to be swept away. Shards that pricked tiny drops of blood from the bottom of their feet. No matter how unconventional, it was time to vacuum the linoleum. Emily was determined to do so. She was determined to iron out the details and feel like she belonged, like they all did.

Emily took a glance back at Gillian, about to share her intentions when the doorbell rang. Gillian dried off her hands on Cal’s floral apron and went to answer it. Emily trailed behind her, hovering just outside of the foyer. It was Sharon, of course it was. Emily watched the women greet each other with careful cheek kisses and small talk. Somehow, it felt like the start of something.

Emily moved forward to greet Sharon as well, taking the diaper bag from her while Gillian took her coat. And eventually Cal found his way down to say hello.

In the next twenty minutes, they had all exhausted their repertoires of basic conversation and sitting down to their meal. But it was a quiet meal. They barely spoke and Gillian grimaced at the sound of her own utensils scraping her plate. They were lacking in laughter, in comfort. Sharon absentmindedly rocked Elena in her carseat, propped up on the chair next to her. Cal just chewed, his glance darting around the room. So as soon as they were done, Gillian popped up and offered to get started on the dishes, allowing the plates to be stacked up and handed to her before making her careful escape.

Emily sighed, excusing herself to help, collecting drinking glasses as she made her way out.

“Hi,” she said quietly as she entered the kitchen, resting her load on the counter beside where Gillian stood. “Can I help?”

Gillian smiled. “I wash, you dry?”

Emily nodded and picked up a dish towel, taking the wet dish from Gillian’s hand to dry and stack in the open cupboard. Gillian passed another dish to Emily, who dutifully dried it off. It was silent as they both lost themselves in thought. It worried Emily thar Gillian had been so quiet. There was still discomfort, though less. She wished they would all love each other, integrate seamlessly. There was history, though, that Emily couldn't know the extent of. She didn’t even want to know, really.

“Hey,” Sharon said quietly from the border of the room.

Gillian turned and the two older women shared a look. Emily’s best guess was regret. She put the plate in her hands into the cupboard and put the towel down. She passed between them as unobtrusively as she could, making her way out of the room. She stood just outside, standing still and straining to hear their conversation.

“This is awkward,” said Sharon.

“Doesn’t have to be.”

Emily shook her head. Gillian could act like such a shrink sometimes.

“I don’t want you to think I don’t like you or mean any ill will. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or like you can’t be around Elena.”

“You don’t have to say any of this.”

“No, I want to. I know there’s a lot of…” Sharon said. She had probably gestured in the silent moment. “I want to apologize and let you know that you really are welcome. You’re part of Cal’s life and he loves you and I would never want to take that away from you. I never wanted to make things difficult for you.”

“I know, Sharon.” Gillian had trouble with the name. “I’m sorry too. You reached out and I just...do you remember that? After the whole IA thing? I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you. Sometimes it still feels like I’m blaming you. But it wasn’t your fault then and neither is this now. I’m sorry I never took you up on that raincheck.”

“It was justified. I don’t know if I ever really thanked you. Properly, I mean. Because you were so-you are so *nice*. I didn’t know you could lie for someone. I don't think I even understood then how much it meant for you to do that.”

“Depends on the lie,” came Gill, a smile in her tone.

Emily smiled in response. Whatever baggage there was between them, whatever truths and lies, they were being shared freely. They would work out their differences and maybe even be friends. Emily didn’t often get the chance to see Gillian with other women friends. But she understood how important it could be to have them. And Wallowski? Well who better to air romantic frustrations with than a woman who could understand the man to some degree.

“Eavesdropping, Love?” Cal asked her quietly.

Emily pried herself off the wall, turning to face her father. Her grin was instant, pulling up in brightened humour at his interruption.

“Maybe a bit.” She shrugged, making her way to the couch where he sat.

“What are they saying?” he asked, voice lowered to tease.

Emily swatted at his shoulder and sat down next to him, quiet overcoming them both. Emily leaned over to watch Elena in the little pink bassinet her father had moved her into. She was awake but quiet, laying on her back.

Emily had questions of her own, roused again at the thought of both Gillian and Sharon.

“Dad?” she asked quietly. “Did you...why were you with Sharon after you told me you loved Gillian?”

She shook her head once the words had come out, registering the shock on his face. “I shouldn't have- you don’t have to answer.”

He shifted in obvious discomfort and spoke so quietly she hardly heard. “I wish I knew.”

A lie, really. One he desperately wanted to believe. But Emily knew it was because he loved Gillian, not in spite of it. It was because he didn't know how to deserve her or be what she wanted. It was because he couldn’t imagine being the one allowed to make her happy. And he and Gillian, though not a surprise to anyone else, was probably a surprise to him. Mr. Unworthy. Mr. Martyr.

“She loves you, you know? Gillian? Has for a long time,” Emily said.

Cal blinked a few times, looking at her. “And what makes you so sure of that?”

“Oh just little clues here and there,” she said, shrugging again. “And the look on her face when I told her you’re happier with her. Years ago, really.”

“Cheeky,” he says, pinching her. He reached out to tickle, but stopped at the sound of Elena’s cry.

Emily lifted the baby and settled her into the crook of her elbow. She swayed gently in her seat and looked to her dad who handed over the bottle she had laid down with. Emily teased open Elena’s mouth with the bottle’s nipple and watched her suckle.

“You’re a natural,” Cal said, throwing his arm around her shoulders. “Should make you babysit more.”

“You know, I might even like that,” Emily admitted. It seemed like all the important conversations would be had tonight. “I wish I got more time with her.”

Cal frowned. “You’re welcome anytime. Here and, I’m sure, Shazzer’s too. Elena’s your sister. No one’s trying to keep you away.”

“I know,” Emily said. “Just feels that way sometimes.”

“Don’t know what to say to that. I want you to be close.”

She didn’t like the look on her father’s face. It would work out. She would be sure it would work out. She shook her head and smiled. “We will be.”

A promise. Emily shifted until she was cuddled, coddled, felt like a toddler would on her father’s lap. Everything was truly going to be okay. Within a few minutes, Gillian and Sharon left the kitchen, meeting them in the living room. Gillian took one look over the three and came right over, filling in the negative space next to Cal; it was her place, had always been.Sharon shrugged and joined them, all five on a three-seater couch. It wasn’t how Emily expected any of it to happen, not at all. But it was a family. It was her family. And she had faith in each of them. This would all come together.

Emily closed her eyes and sighed in contentment.

Chapter Text

The house was warm with the flickering of a false flame, scented candles lending to the atmosphere of the season. There had been cinnamon boiling, something Gillian insisted they do after her mother’s tradition, make the house smell like Christmas. Gillian Foster stepped out of Cal’s home office, where she had been checking and double checking her planning of these next few days. Cal was sprawled out on the couch, arms wide and eyes closed in comfortable silence. Gillian moved across the room and sat next to him. The couch shifted as he jolted, Gillian grabbing low on his shirt to keep herself upright.

"Alright, Love?"

Gillian leaned further into Cal’s shoulder, pushing until he made more space for her beside him. She curled her feet up under her and settled in close, her head resting softly against his chest. He wrapped her up in his arms and kept his breaths slow, matching them with hers. Gillian smiled against his skin. “Can’t cuddle?”

“Course you can. Always,” he said.

“I’d’ve thunk,” Gillian said, slowly spreading out her hand where it had clutched in his clothing. “You know, with the ring and all.”

Cal smiled in response, rubbing his hand up Gill’s back and they both sigh. “Yeah.”

He’d offered her the ring in the weeks before Elena’s birthday, just about a month ago. She had been caught up in the party planning, conspiring with Shazzer about how to get away with taking it beyond what Cal considered appropriate scope (a small party, he’d insisted. She’s two. She won’t remember it). Gillian was so busy she hadn’t noticed his own conspiracy, which he’d had practically everyone in on. And he’d just sat her down in the living room, Emily and Sharon and Elena in the other room and asked her if she would have him. When she said yes, everyone had come out to congratulate them and take pictures and offer cake. And she’d been so happy since.

“When do they arrive?” Gillian said, turning to peer up at him.

“Any minute,” he said. He leaned back further, careful not to displace her (she had such warmth and he felt so full of it). He let his eyes close and waited.

The knock interrupted the quiet moment and Gillian removed herself from his hold to answer the door. He trained his ears on the hallway, listening to Gillian’s voice mingle with Sharon's and fill the space. Then, Gillian’s voice growing quieter as she walked away, probably to the mudroom or the kitchen, chattering with Elena the whole way along.

Sharon came into the room to see him like that, eyes still shut and dreamy. She gave him a light kick in the shin and he dramaticized the response, jumping up and settling back down with an “Oy! Shazzer!”

Sharon smiled, long and slow. “Can’t be dreaming. There are Christmas miracles to fulfill. Like, being both Santa and Dad. Knowing you, that’ll be a real struggle.”

“Oy! I’ll have you know I’ve done the whole Santa shindig my fair share with Emily. Got this one, thank you very much.”

“Whatever you say,” Sharon said, lifting her hands in surrender.

“I’m a great Santa,” he said, gesturing at himself. “Spitting image, yeah?”

“Something like that,” Sharon smirked, hand on her hip.

Gillian returned to the room in that moment, looking at them both with a grin on her face. She held Elena on her hip, who wiggled to be put down. Gillian let the girl down and she walked over to her dad, saying hi. She climbed onto his lap for a cuddle. Gillian almost envied her, her cuddle having been cut short.

“So, I’m going now. I’ll see you both tomorrow?”

“Not a minute after noon,” Cal replied.

Cal would play Santa tonight at a small event at The Group, then they’d put Elena to bed and spend Christmas morning together. They’d have lunch with Sharon and hand off Elena, then go to their respective family homes for the holiday. This year, Cal and Emily both would come with Gillian to her family's dinner. They had already met her parents and her sister, but the rest of her family was anxious to meet them. Gillian was excited to show them off. This Christmas was going to be wonderful.

Gillian and Sharon headed to the door together, talking in brief about diaper rash and potty training. Cal looked at Elena and laughed, watching as she laughed too. Oh conformity was taught so young.

“Ready?” Gillian asked. She was pulling black boots up the length of her calves, smiling at him as he stared. “What?”

“You’re just...I’m just lucky is all.”

The smile on her was miraculous, a light that filled the room and him. He wanted to breathe it, let it be his only sustenance. He let Elena off his knee and encouraged her towards Gill for her boots.

“Hold on, I need my suit.”

As Cal ducked away to retrieve his Santa costume, Gill had already begun to laugh. She’d tease him for days. It was worth it anyhow. When Cal returned, he snapped a picture on his phone  camera, and when Gilliam looked up at the flash, her expression full of adorable awe, he couldn’t help but take another. This Christmas, with everyone he loved, was bound to be a good one. Maybe even the best. And he kind of had a little years-ago mistake to thank for it all.