+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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"Connor...?"
"Here, Mom. I'm fine."
Gillian's eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice. Clear walls, the shadow of a head. She'd made it? A warm weight covered her hand—Connor's hand. Relief overwhelmed her. Connor was fine. He was even there, by her side.
"Try to rest, Mom."
His voice worked its usual magic. Everything became slowly clearer. She assessed she had enough morphine in her system to be high for a whole year. But she had some sensations back. The pulling stitches in her chest, the things pinned and plugged to her body. Jeez, no morphine could ease her revulsion to hospitals.
Scattered thoughts tried to get through the morphine-drenched cotton that seemed to fill her head. The boy who shot her. They had to find him. They couldn't let him go around, shooting people like that. Phone. Call Al. Maybe she was right there and Gillian couldn't see her.
Her eyes darted around, struggling in vain to focus. No. Aldana wasn't there. Gillian couldn't tell everything, but she was sure only Connor was in the room with her.
The boy saw her hand move numbly on the sheets, as if trying to find something. He smiled and talked in a slow way, to help her make sense of his words.
"It's okay, Mom. The team went back to the office as soon as you came out of surgery and they knew you were fine. They're already on the case."
Good. That was good news. Gillian blinked a couple of times as she tried to fight the morphine back. She needed to ask. Connor pressed her hand when she moved her lips without a sound.
"Russ and Brockner are in Boston too, Mom. They came back as soon as they knew."
Those words did make their way, straight through the fluffy walls of morphine wrapping around her brain. Where was her stupid phone? She needed to call Russ and tell him not to worry, because she was fine.
And she needed to hear his voice.
Not Russell's. His.
She achieved an epic victory when she managed to mumble, "Call..."
Connor knew what she meant and smiled wider. "I'll call them as soon as you go back to sleep."
"...him..."
She needed a pause to breathe. Dammit. She'd never thought that uttering two words would be so exhausting.
"Brockner..." she mouthed, in case her son was on morphine too and didn't get it.
"No need, Mom. He's right out the door. Wanna see'im?"
Gillian opened her eyes and found Connor's smile. Before she could take in what his words meant, the boy pressed her hand again.
"Let me get'im," he said and walked out into the blurry white of the hospital lights.
Was it true? Brock was there? Right there, so close?
Stupid selective morphine. She couldn't move her hand but she heard the beep-beep of her heart rate grew faster. She needed to calm down, or some stupid nurse would come and knock her out before she could see him.
So she closed her eyes and breathed deep. It hurt. But she needed to bring the stupid beep-beep as back to normal as she could. So she breathed. In. Out. In. Out...
Brock stood up when Connor came out of Gillian's room. The boy said nothing. He met Brock's eyes with a little smile and nodded at the glass door. Brock used those three steps to bury deep down all the fear he'd been through over the last hours.
He walked in noiselessly and approached the bed. Gillian's eyes were closed, her heart rate regular and calm. He stopped himself before touching her hand, not to disturb her.
That smell. She knew that smell. No morphine could cloud it. It pulled her eyes open to find the tall silhouette against the annoying shimmering lights. His eyes. She tried to find them in the shadows of his face, but they remained a blur.
Brock noticed her frown, and that she tried to move her hand, so he stepped up to her side, resting his hand on hers. Just like she used to do when it was him on a hospital bed, knocked down by morphine and wounds.
"Gillian, it's me," he whispered.
There they were. Those piercing green eyes that always saw right through her. They were fixed on her. And she saw every line and detail of his face. The face that had filled her dreams for so long. The face of the man she'd tried so hard not to love. A sudden fear clutched at her. What if it was a morphine mirage and he was not there?
