+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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Her whisper cut off Brock's sarcasm and banned it out of the picture.
She didn't know it.
All she knew was that they'd been silent for over an hour, and that was just how long she was able to keep her mind in real autopilot. That is, with Brock sitting right next to her. She'd accepted his cologne as a constant reminder of how close he was, and managed to settle for a quiet comfort about it. She liked it, simply having him close—else why would she ever dream of them watching TV together! And especially after sharing the whole day with his charming self.
It felt so good, because the last moments they'd shared weren't exactly nice to remember. The copycats crap. The militia and the ordeal on the hill. The hospital days. So it was nice, keeping this watch together.
But she'd just realized how she'd turned on her seat, bringing her knees up a little. She was facing him, and her eyes followed every line of his features, her lips pursed in that stupid smile she hated. The subject's house? Oh, must be that blurry thing past Brock's stark profile.
Her survival instinct came to the rescue once more. Five more minutes of this and she'd try to hold his hand. And kiss him.
At her words, Brock turned to look at her with his eyebrows arched in a question.
She shrugged, apologetic. "I could use some small talk."
Brock looked out again, his voice calm but far from cold.
"Want me to keep you distracted?"
Gillian smiled wider at recalling the same conversation when they were trapped in the blasted building.
"Oh, no, that's only for broken legs and smashed ribs."
Such a blatant lie. She did need to get distracted. From him. All of a sudden she realized she knew the best way to do it. Nothing better than calling on the stupid bitter man. That would surely throw down and mud any stupid fantasy of hers.
"You know? I asked Cassidy to borrow only Russell," she said, in her most casual tone.
Brock nodded, absentmindedly. She was still geared up in heavy armor. Not the right moment for anything along the line of coming clean.
"I know. You didn't think I'd be of help?"
Gillian frowned—c'mon! She got a grip on the fangirl struggling to take over.
"No. It's just that..."
Brock tilted his head when she trailed off. Great! He expected her to elaborate. However, she was already distracted from her stupid butterflies. So she played along.
"Russell likes working with us," she said, no other intention than stating a fact.
Got the memo, Brockner? "And..."
"And even though he outranks me, I can boss'im around if I need to."
"But you cannot boss me around."
"Did I ever?"
"No."
She flashed a little smirk.
Brock held her shadowed eyes. "You should know by now that you can tell me when you don't wanna work a case with me," he said, gently distant.
"What?" Gillian scoffed. "Sir, you know I lo—like working with you!" She stopped her hands from covering her mouth. At least she didn't finish saying love! She was grateful they had no lights on in the SUV, so maybe he wouldn't notice the furious red scalding her face.
Brock nodded again, for her to go on.
Shit. Gillian sighed. "It's kinda hard for me, making the calls when you're around." That's it. I can keep the fangirl on the professional side. "Somehow, I'm always expecting you to show me the way. Whether to follow..." Her voice turned mockingly serious. "...or to make one of my rebellious statements against the rules."
Brock scoffed at the quote and Gillian suffocated a groan. How was she supposed to keep her distance if his bitter self refused to show up?
"I'm here only consulting, Gillian." Brock looked out. He knew he needed to be careful if he didn't want to push her into porcupine mode. "As for why I'm here... I don't know, Gillian. Cassidy said you needed help, so I just grabbed my go-bag and came."
Gillian would spend the next thousand years wondering why she reacted like she did. And she wouldn't be able to come up with any coherent answer. But at that very moment, she seemed to forget all the times he'd had her back, and all the times she'd felt so damn sure he'd always have it. An evil black hole seemed to gulp down how confident it made her feel, and how she missed it whenever he wasn't around. For some reason, his words set off all of her defensive warfare, and she found herself wondering what the hell did he mean. Russell could've said that. Or Banks. Because they were her friends. But Brock wasn't her friend. Was he patronizing her?
"SSA Brockner trying to keep me from damaging the case?" she asked, her hurting pride flooding her voice.
Brock scowled at such a twisted interpretation. This was a dragon. They caught them together. That was what they did best. He was so taken aback that he didn't stop to think his answer.
"What? You couldn't damage a case even if you tried. You're too good."
She completely missed to register his compliment and arched her eyebrows, skeptical.
"Then they sent you to prevent one of my crazy plans on such a sensitive case."
He shook his head slowly, with a puzzled scowl. How come such a simple comment had pushed her into full porcupine mode?
