(no subject)
Title: Catastrophe and the Cure
Disclaimer: LTM not mine, Title from Explosions in the Sky
Summary: One day, he'd be the man he wanted to be, a man that would deserve her. When that day came, he hoped she'd be ready.
A/N: For Kelsita, thank you. Also to HPS - Happiness is only tangible when you know you've lost it.
.::.
"What are you doing here?" She opens her door and shuts it behind her.
"Oh, you know. Went for a drive."
"And you ended up here?"
He shrugs, kicks her step. "Fancy a ride?"
.::.
It's always been there. The attraction. The mutual fascination.
In the beginning, it was intellectual. Mostly. Purely scientific. She was an enigma. A seemingly open book with an ornate cover; however the writing was in Sanskrit.
It took a while, but he learned how to read her, how to interpret her code. [Or so he thought]. Born from mutual interest came respect. She was his sounding board, his devil's advocate, his repartee partner.
.::.
They're in his Sunday Driving Car, not the hippie brick. They buckle up, roll the windows down, and drive off into the night. He takes the GW parkway, enjoys the silence between them.
He doesn't have a destination in mind until he feels her gaze, soft yet piercing. The time has come. He parks in a lot near the water, close to the airport.
.::.
Happily or not, they were both married. They both loved their spouses. If there was ever a thought of anything outside of the professional, they would appropriately deflect their gaze and continue on.
But then he wasn't.
.::.
"When did you figure it out? What I was tryin' to do?" He glances over at her. They're lying on the hood of his car, both wrapped up tightly against the wind.
"Around the time you stopped showing up at my house at two in the morning after doing something ridiculous."
"I wanted to."
She sighs, bites her lip, then turns to him. "I know."
.::.
During his mourning period, his professional partner became more of a crutch. He was dead weight, an anchor sinking to the bottom, and she was the tether, pulling him up despite his worst intentions. Their professional partnership evolved into another beast.
Co-dependence.
.::.
"Was it hard?" Her voice is soft, slightly curious. "Letting us go?"
He doesn't hesitate. "More than you can imagine."
"Would you do it all over again?"
He reaches out, pulls her hand to him and twines his fingers with hers. "If it got me here, right now, with you? Better believe it."
She tries to fight her smile, but she gives up and let's it slip.
.::.
She cared far too much for her own good. Much to their detriment, he let her. Thus a cycle began. When Cal saw a shiny object, he'd risk it all to catch that elusive shimmer of dust only to have it escape his grasp or blow up in his face. Like any dutiful friend, any glutton for punishment, she'd pull him to shore.
It became a habit: a toxic, unyielding, destructive habit. An addiction, even. Somewhere along the way, it became far too one-sided and she bore all their weight.
.::.
They stare at the moonless sky, the way the city lights cast an orange glow against the inky blackness. The planes are passersby in the night, and for a while the only sound.
"What happens five, ten years from now?"
"What, when we're fat and old and hate each other?"
"No." She elbows him and rolls her eyes. "What happens when… I'm not enough?"
"You mean when I want to walk away?"
.::.
Then she was single. She'd severed ties with her proverbial anchor and was free to roam. Yet she stayed. Not necessarily because she had to, but because he wanted her and she liked to be needed.
.::.
She's watching him, waiting for the doubt. "I wouldn't have worked that hard and risked it all, just to let you go, Gill."
"You say that now…"
"No. I say that always." The sentiment is there, he's telling his truth and believes it.
But it's not enough. He sees the instant the fear overtakes her, frowns as the warmth of her hand leaves his own.
She sits up, slides off the hood, and takes off.
"Gill…"
.::.
They entered a holding pattern.
More like an intricate dance to which there were no set steps or music. When he took a step forward, she took two back. He wanted to dip and she wanted to spin. She'd watch him switch partners and twirl and laugh, but she'd always be there, waiting. Occasionally, she'd take a turn or two with a nameless nobody. Still, he always had her attention, waiting to be needed.
.::.
He catches up to her by the water. Arm wrapped tight around her middle, her other hand is clasped tight around her mouth to keep the sobs at bay.
"What? What'd I do?"
She shakes her head and rounds on him. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to say the perfect thing and expect it to work out. Things worked out because I made them work."
"Hey -"
"No. You want the right here right now. You don't want forever. You sure don't want it with me."
"I'm absolutely positive that you're the only person I could ever imagine having forever with! No one else would have me." She catches the flash of sorrow and shame at his admission.
Understanding. It's a sad smile. Bitter tears fill her eyes.
.::.
One day, he realized it had to stop. It was time to cut the rope. It was time to swim ashore and stand on his own two feet without her. If he wanted out, if he wanted to be someone worthy of her, then things needed to change. He needed to change. They needed to change.
His plan was not without it's risks, but he knew in the end, that it would be worth it.
.::.
"Take me home."
"Gillian -"
"Please. Take me home."
It's the longest drive of both their lives.
.::.
He would push her away. He would force her to the edge until she nearly broke. He would do the unthinkable time and again.
He would recreate them from the bottom up.
::.
When he pulls up to her house, she turns in her seat and faces him. They watch each other in the dim streetlight; the space between them growing by the minute.
Finally: "I'm not saying no. Just… not yet."
"Why?"
She looks to the side at the street ahead, then back to him. "You may have found your way by completely destroying what we had, but you still missed the mark."
He tries to not be caustic. "How so?"
"Because you still see me as your last resort, not your first choice."
She leaves him alone in his car and enters her home. He remains outside until all the lights are off. He considers his plan and reflects that perhaps he shouldn't have tried to go it alone. Strength in numbers, after all.
.::.
It would be worth it. It had to be. One day, he'd be the man he wanted to be, a man that would deserve her. When that day came, he hoped she'd be ready.