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notgonnarememberthis · 3 years

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today (of all days) - pt. 3

Hello!! I’m not gonna lie this chapter was a,,, problem. I struggled with ideas for so long but I finally landed on something I like!! This hiatus has been killer on my inspiration for writing but I’m determined to finish this! Hope y’all enjoy!

Gil is barely home for 5 minutes when a knock resounds through the apartment. After a couple of drinking celebrating his promotion to lieutenant, he’s feeling a bit fuzzy headed when he pulls the door open. Jessica stands in the center a bottle in hand and a dazzling smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Surprise!” She squeals. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the actual celebration, Ainsley practically hugged my leg refusing to let me leave until I read to her.” Gil smiles despite the obvious lie. He knows the truth, that she can’t be around all those officers. Looks of suspicion or pity on their faces as they stare at her.

“That’s alright Jess.” He chuckles stepping aside for her to come in. She sweeps in with all the grace she can, immediately stepping into his kitchen and retrieving the glasses. She knows where they are by now, that should make him laugh but when he sees the bottle again after she sets it on the counter he stops in his tracks.

“Oh, Malcolm wants to go out with you to celebrate your promotion too. I thought it’d be nice for it to just be the two of you and Ainsley and I could have a mommy daughter day.”

“I’d like that.” He says, only half paying attention to what she’s saying. He can see it now, the way her shoulders are knotted, like an invisible string is the only thing keeping her upright. Her flowing steps are more controlled than usual, extra precautions taken to not see her even stumble.

He follows her to the couch where he pours them both a drink. She doesn’t down the first like she normally would on nights like these. He wonders if this is her first drink. “Are you listening?”

He blinks, caught in his analysis. “No, sorry.”

“Ainsley has her first competition of the season in three weeks. You’ll make it right?”

“Of course. How can I miss New York’s most promising young figure skater?” He sees the spark in her eye just before it fades. A momentary happiness before being drowned out by whatever is on her mind.

“Good because she hasn’t stopped talking about showing off the new spiral she learned.” She doesn’t meet his eyes as she’s speaking. It’s a rambling sort, where she’s saying literally anything that’s on her mind rather than getting to the heart of the issue. It takes until he finishes this drink to bring himself to stop her.

“Jess, what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” She smiles, the one she saves for reporters and on her worse days, her children.

“You haven’t even been able to look at me for the past fifteen minutes.”

“That’s not true.” “Then look at me.” She purses her lips, tilting her head before she finally meets his gaze. Almost immediately her mask falls apart, tears building in her eyes as she struggles to hold eye contact. “What happened?”

“Nothing. It’s ridiculous.”

“Not to me.” She drops her head into her free hand, eyes settling on the amber liquid in her glass. “Jessica, talk to me.”

She sighs, but relents, “I ran into an old friend.”

“Oh?”

“His name is Thomas, we grew up together basically. Gave our parents hell in the way only two children of stupidly wealthy families can.”

“Hard to imagine you being rowdy.”

“Oh, I had a whole rebel faze in high school.” She laughs and he joins in. “We would sneak out, drink on the hood of his car, act gloriously stupid.”

“Jess,”

“He’s different. We both are. He took over his father’s business, would’ve been my parent’s dream match for me. Maybe that’s why I was excited to see him again.” She places her glass at the table frantically wiping her eyes before the tears fell. “I could’ve made it right.”

“It’s not your job to make it right.”

“I know.” She sighs. “It just felt like a sign? When I talked to him it was just like old times. He didn’t treat me like-”

“Like the Surgeon’s ex-wife.”

“Exactly.” She picks up her drink again, maybe just for something to cling to. “Well, Adolpho did some digging. Turns out Thomas has an exclusive deal with Barbara Walters.”

“She was using him to get a story.” She nods her head tilted down as her shoulders begin to shake. “I’m so sorry Jess.”

“I just” She sniffs trying to take a deep breath to control the tears. “I thought this was different. Someone finally taking interest in me, not the Whitlys.” She spits the name with a venom she hadn’t before. Long ago she explained why she kept the last name. Now he wonders if she regrets her choice. “Feels stupid now.”

“It wasn’t stupid Jess.” He puts his drink down, reaching to her slowly. He places his hands on her arms.

“Most days I’m fine. I have all I need in my life with Malcolm and Ainsley and-” Her eyes dart away at the almost confession. He tries not to hope that she was going to finish that sentence with you. “But I’m so lonely. But nobody wants to be with the ex-wife of a serial killer.”

“That’s not all you are.”

“That’s all they see me as.”

“Not to me.” She stops, her eyes going wide for a second.

She takes a deep, shaky breath. Her voice is so quiet it's like she’s afraid to ask. “What do you see?”

He runs his hands down her arms scooting closer. “I see an amazing mother. One who gives up everything to make sure her kids are happy. One who hunted down therapist after therapist for one Malcolm felt comfortable with and never gave up. One who talks about her kids for half an hour before even thinking about herself.” She smiles, a soft broken smile. “I see someone who’s resilient and strong. Hell, I still keep the mental image of when you punched the journalist who tried to talk to Malcolm.”

“Not my best moment.”

“I beg to differ.” He chuckles. “I see your passion. You want to help people, even if they don’t want your help. You’re a good person Jess.”

“Tell that to Barbara Walters.”

“She doesn’t know you. Not like we do. You are tough as hell, and beautiful too.” Her breath catches in her throat at that. He wonders how long it’s been since anyone has called her beautiful. A heavy silence falls over the room. He opens his mouth again but before he can continue her lips are on his.

It feels like his entire mind short circuits for a second. He’d thought of kissing her about a hundred times but never could he think of acting on it. He wishes he could catalogue every feeling but she pulls away too soon.

Her eyes are wide and guilty. A fresh sort of shame washes over him as well, thinking maybe she regrets it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s ok Jess.” “You’re a good man and for a second I just wanted to pretend like I could ever deserve someone like you.”

“Jess.”

“You are so good to my family. Malcolm thinks of you like a father and god how could I jeopardize that?”

“Jessica.”

“I’m so sorry can we-” He cuts her off by cupping her face with both hands and pulling her to him. She tenses when her lips touch his, hands hovering in between them. She relaxes when his thumb runs gently over her cheekbone and she knots her fingers into the front of his turtleneck.

He thinks he could stay there forever, just kissing her. Relishing in the feeling of her nails combing through his hair. She deepens the kiss pulling a groan from the depth of his chest. He feels her smile and laugh against his mouth and he moves a hand to her hip to pull her even closer.

She seems to have a better idea when she pulls away, only for a second to swing her leg over his lap straddling him. He doesn’t even have time to react before she’s kissing him again. He runs his fingers through her curls, they’re as soft as he thought they would be. When her tongue swipes across his he can taste the bourbon and a hint of vodka on her lips.

The confirmation of what he thought earlier is like being doused in freezing water. He pulls away but she immediately goes to attack his neck instead. “Jess.” He runs his hands over her back trying to get her attention. She only makes an inquisitive sound in response. “We’re drunk.” She hums in confirmation as if that was the most obvious thing. “Jess, stop.”

She pulls away and he watches the guilt appear again. “You’re right.”

“No, listen.” He brushes back the hair that fell in front of her face. “I want this, but I want you to want this when you’re sober.”

“I do.”

“Then we will try this again later. Why don’t you take my bed again tonight?”

“Only if you come with.” He tilts his head in disapproval as she stands, slightly uneven on her feet. She raises her hands sticking on her bottom lip. “No funny business, I promise.” Her expression changes, growing more serious. “I just don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Fine.” He relents and her smile reappears. “But no funny business.”

“I promise.”

When they settle into bed Jessica is once again wearing one of his shirts. He’s beginning to wonder if she doesn’t bring spare clothes for the purpose of stealing his t-shirts on nights they get drunk. He decides he doesn’t mind when she turns, placing her head on his chest listening to his heart until it lulls her to sleep.

The next morning when he wakes up she’s already gone. He spies the note on his nightstand with her careful swirling handwriting.

Belluci’s, tonight at 8. Wear something nice.

XO, Jessica

#gilica #prodigal son #jessica whitly x gil arroyo #gil arroyo x jessica whitly #jessica x gil #jessica whitly #gil arroyo #5+1 Things #5+1 fic #notgonnarememberthis fics #fanfic #prodigal son AU #gilssica #today (of all days)#today (of all days) pt 3 #today (of all days) part 3

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notgonnarememberthis · 3 years

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find your way (back to me) - chapter ten

God, I have been SO EXCITED for this chapter. BIG praise to Em who helped me get through little hooks and finding Martin’s voice. Honestly they are crazy talented and have such a grasp for his tone and movements they’re such a big help to me and I love my best friend so damn much ok.

Anyways!! I wanted to send this out after tonight’s ep but I have yet to watch it. I was out with my sister helping her get over a sad spell so I unfortunately missed it live and won’t be able to watch until tomorrow so I would love to avoid spoilers. Thank y’all so much!! Hope y’all enjoy the update!

Gil opens the door to the morgue, Edrisa looks up from the body with a small nod but her normal smile isn’t quite there. Malcolm stands beside her shifting from side to side. He raises an eyebrow but says nothing. JT lingers in the corner of the room, jaw set. “Ready?”

This presentation feels heavier than most. It doesn’t help either he or Malcolm that they both had to reluctantly leave the apartment so early in the morning. Ainsley remained behind, having called in a few favors to work from his place at least until the case was solved. Still, he worries. They both do.

“Yes,” Edrisa breathes, settling into the motions. “Cause of death was the slit throat. There were traces of tranquilizer in the victim, that might be how he was transferred from place to place. The state of the body suggests he’s been dead for a day.”

“He was alive an entire week. Our killer waited. He waited until mother was out of the hospital.” He’s already agitated, it’s not good.

“He wasn’t killed in Mrs. Whitly’s home. He was transported post mortem.”

“We can assume our killer has completely unraveled. This kill goes completely off M.O.”

“He’s desperate.” Gil agrees.

“Has she remembered anything yet?” Gil turns to where JT is standing.

“No.” Malcolm sighs, “She’s going through dissociative amnesia. Ainsley did after…” He gestures, it’s enough for them to understand. “Honestly, I hope she doesn’t.”

“You do?” The question isn’t meant as a harm but he sees Malcolm flinch. There’s a flash of guilt on JT’s face but Malcolm waves him off before he can apologize.

“From an investigative standing? I would. It would certainly help narrow it down.” He shakes his head, like trying to rid of a thought that was too much even for him. “But after Ainsley remembered? She completely shut down. She looked right past us and it tore my mother up.” Gil remembers that. The blank stare lasted for hours before she finally broke down. It was Jessica who finally got her out of it, playing with her hair and singing her a lullaby. “I don’t want that for her.”

Edrisa places a gentle hand on his shoulder, and to Malcolm’s credit rather than flinching away he subtly leans into the touch.

“Did we find out any more about Freddy?” The question seems to bring a new heaviness to the room. Edrisa and Malcolm share a look, one that tells they know something that hasn’t been spoken quite yet.

“We found an ID card on the inside of his jacket.” Edrisa grabs a baggie with the ID badge inside passing it to Gil. “He was a student volunteer at Claremont Psychiatric.”

“Claremont? You think-”

“We don’t know if he has any connection to the surgeon.” Malcolm’s eyes fall to the body. “But I’ve seen him around. It was only in passing but he was nice. Always smiled when I passed.”

“Does Jess know?”

“No. But it gets worse.”

“Worse?” Malcolm bobs his head before straightening, trying to summon every ounce of professionalism he has to ignore the warring feelings.

“Freddy’s full name is Francisco Garcia. When mom was delivering her statement to the police she said Freddy helped tie the tourniquet on her leg. That his mom is a trauma surgeon.” Gil’s face sinks, coming to the same conclusion. Jessica’s doctor that had been helping in the investigation, Dr. Garcia. “Agent Swanson is on her way to the hospital to confirm our findings. But we’re almost certain it’s Dr. Garcia’s son.”

“Did she know he was missing?”

“My guess? No. He was a med student and a volunteer. He probably went weeks at a time without checking in.” Gil runs a hand through his beard. Even thinking about telling Jessica was ripping him apart. She’d connected well with her doctor, it helped that she was a friendly woman. But Jessica will want to help with funeral expenses, help the family financially for whatever they need. There’s no way he can get past telling her.

A ringtone startles them out of the somber silence. Malcolm reaches into his pocket, eyebrows furrowing when he reads the caller ID. “Ains?” His anxious movements stop as his eyes meet Gil’s “What’s wrong?” He can barely make out the sound of crying coming from the phone “What do you mean she’s gone?” Gil sucks in a breath. Gone could mean too many things. “It’s ok. Is her phone still there?” He waits with a fearful beat. “That’s good. She might have left on her own. I’m going to go see if I can track her phone. Have Dani drive you here and we’ll find her ok?”

Malcolm hangs up and he looks ready to throw something. It’s Edrisa who slips the phone out of his hand before he decides to do just that. He clenches his hand taking a deep breath before speaking.

“My mother is gone.”

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Jessica’s eyes open to the sound of her phone chiming followed shortly by the sound of the front door shutting. From the light pouring into the bedroom she would guess its at least the afternoon. Sleeping in Gil’s bed made it easier to chase away the nightmares and if she did wake up his presence was enough to soothe her. Listening to his slow breathing lulled her back to sleep eventually, too exhausted for another nightmare.

She picks up her phone, squinting as the light hits her face.

Work emergency. Will be back soon, order takeout and have them give it to George.

So it was Ainsley she heard leaving. She sits up carefully pulling her hair up out of her face. Her phone chimes again

And don’t leave!!

She bites her tongue staring at her bags in the corner of the room. Gil and Malcolm carried all that she’d need for the stay for at least a week. The memories of last night hang over her head precariously, like a rope ready to snap.

She takes her medicine with the glass of water on the nightstand.

Her eyes fall on the shirt from last night. Gil had her change when they arrived and, truthfully, it helped her feel lighter. Yet the note in the pocket still weighs on the back of her mind. There was only one possible way he’d know how she took her tea. It was such a small detail even Malcolm, at his age, wouldn’t remember much less Ainsley. She’d stopped drinking tea for a while after his arrest. It took her years before she found a blend she liked again.

Nobody should know that.

And yet.

Jessica rubs her eyes, dread threatening to push her down into the covers where it was safe and warm again. The thoughts taste foul as she files through. She needs to go see Martin, he’s the only one with the answers. If Gil knew there would be no chance he’d let her go anywhere near Claremont, for perfectly good reasons. Hell, if Malcolm and Ainsley knew they wouldn’t let her out of her sight. Ainsley will only be gone for a short bit, if her texts are accurate.

Now is her only chance.

Getting dressed takes slower than she’s happy with. The pull makes her breath catch in her throat more than a few times. She eyes the wheelchair next to the bed for a moment. She knows the doctor’s order, but around Martin showing weakness at all is a loss. It gives him control of the conversation.

Giving him any sort of control is the last thing she wanted.

She gathers herself, dressed as she normally would. She uses makeup to cover what she can. However some of the scrapes are still so sore that she doesn’t bother. She grabs the note, giving herself a few beats to change her mind and stay. Finally, when she deems herself ready she sweeps out into the living room, opening the front door doing her best annoyed mother tone.

Her eyes settle on the officer patrolling, ready to put on the performance of her life. “Will you drive me to Claremont? My son insists that I shouldn’t be left alone and he’s visiting his father.”

“Sure thing Mrs. Whitly.” The officer, George, grins at her.

“Wonderful.”

The ride there is silent. She practices what she will say in her head over and over. Not that any amount of practice will prepare her to speak to Martin again. It only gets worse as she’s escorted through the halls. She can feel his presence long before she reaches his cell; it’s choking, a cavern that threatens to swallow her and her entire family whole.

“Jessica!” He gasps as she steps in, like he hadn’t known she’d be coming. The shock doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Mr. David didn’t mention you’d be visiting today. I’ve got to say, you’ve looked better.” He gestures vaguely, talking about the scratches on her that she couldn’t cover with makeup. She’s just thankful that she could cover the bruises. “I thought for sure that our children, Malcolm especially, would have you on lockdown. Though, I suppose that never stopped you before.”

She bites the remark that’s on the tip of her tongue. If she wants answers she’ll have to appeal to him. “Malcolm is on the case, Ainsley had some kind work emergency and had to leave.”

He tuts, tilting his head. “Sneaking out? Giving them a taste of their own medicine, huh?” He straightens, narrowing his eyes oh so slightly. “Now don’t tell me you visited just to chat. Not that I’m complaining but come on, I would have put on my good cardigan.”

“No.” He purses his lips at her rejection, but doesn’t interrupt. “Last night there was a body in the kitchen-”

“Someone broke into our home?” My home. She aches for the rebuttal but the answers are too important and she doesn’t have enough time before Ainsley realizes she isn’t there. She will text Malcolm and he’ll no doubt pull every resource he has to find her here, of all places. So she sets her jaw.

“There was a note on my nightstand when I woke up next to a cup of tea that said, just how you like it.” His brows furrow before an understanding washes over him. She thinks, just for a moment.

“Classic stalker behavior.” He shrugs. “Who knows how long he’s been watching you.” She swallows, the thought making her heart freeze. His aloof behavior is betrayed by the years of visits between him and their son. He knows. “And where was the Lieutenant?”

The question scratches her world to a deadly halt. All of the anger at what had happened; the days she was trapped, the injustice of Freddy’s death, her family being threatened. All of it topples over with the words he meant as a knife to her most cherished relationship other than her children.

“Wouldn’t he be there to protect you?”

“Malcolm was.” Darkness washes over him and she watches all the fake humanity drain from his eyes. Barely contained rage makes the room feel colder. She doesn’t allow herself the step backwards that would make her feel more comfortable. “Malcolm was asleep in the chair in the corner of the room.”

“Malcolm was there?”

“Of course he was there! You know Malcolm! He wouldn’t fucking leave let alone sleep in a different room!” She lets out a shuddering breath. “He wouldn’t- he can’t-” Her words jumble and anger is making her shake painfully. Her core aches and she is almost certain if she doesn’t calm down she’ll accidentally pull stitches. “He was in my home. He was in the goddamn kitchen. He was in my room where we were sleeping!” Martin tilts his head, it’s the disapproving tilt. One that she’s seen hundreds of times when a curse slipped out in front of Malcolm or Ainsley when they were so young. He always hated when she cussed. “Malcolm, god he was so tired he didn’t even stir when I woke up.” She can feel the tears coming down but she’s hopeless to stop them now. She’s in an absolute spiral. “God knows how long he was there. How many times he walked past Malcolm. It could’ve been Malcolm.”

The last words are an almost incoherent sob. She had come here, every intention of holding her ground. And here she is having a fucking panic attack in front of her serial killer ex husband. A bitter laugh escapes her.

“It could’ve been Malcolm.” She repeats. “And every time I remember I don’t see that poor boy’s face. I see Malcolm’s. Our son.”

A hand reaches out stroking the tears from her cheek. It takes her far too long to connect the touch to Martin. “Jessie-”

She rips herself away the second her mind connects the dots. The sudden movement causes a new wave of pain. She curses again leaning against the furthest wall to regain her self control. “Stop!” She shouts, getting the attention of Mr. David. “Stop acting like you fucking care.” It hurts too much. She feels like she’s going to stop breathing at any second. When he looks at her with that much sympathy it’s too much. It reminds her of being hunched in the bathroom, morning sickness taking a toll on her. He stayed with her, holding her hair. That sympathy is not only fake, it’s toxic. Another way to gain control.

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” She snaps. “You know. You know who it is and you let us be hurt by him. What did you do Martin? What the fuck did you do?” The room holds impossibly still for what feels like an eternity. He heaves a sigh, defeated.

“Lieutenant Arroyo wasn’t the first to catch me.” The words stop her in her tracks. She watches him warily, not trusting a single word he says. “I never met him, but I received a call, a year or two before.” Her stomach sinks, the year or two before was when she’d noticed his growing absence. “He had connected me to a missing woman, able to pin me at her last seen location.” She swallows, realizing he isn’t moving. No shifting head, wild gesturing movements. It’s the truth. “He wanted money.”

“Oh god.”

“I told you I was funding a project at the hospital. Every month I would send him money for his silence.” She holds her breath. “When I got arrested the money stopped, but the calls didn’t.”

“What.”

“He would threaten Malcolm and Ainsley. He was a belligerent drunk. From what I could gather after he lost that money he lost everything, wife divorced him and took the kids. He drank to forget.” He twists his shoulders back, fixing his posture. “I helped him again. Got him into rehab. From what I could tell, he got his life back together.”

“And became a serial killer.”

“Well not all of us can be perfect, Jessie.” He continues with a shrug, “Never got the wife back but found his faith in religion. Not to keen on it myself but to each their own.”

“Where is he now?”

“From last I heard? He got his job back.”

Just like that the world stops spinning. Her pain makes way for horrific clarity. The black clothes with the covered badges. Malcolm and Gil’s frustration over his ability to get in and out of the park despite there being patrols all over the city. How he got into her home without alerting anyone. “He’s a cop.”

“Yes.”

Anxiety clamps down on her stomach. The man has been right there all along. None of them had even suspected. Hell, it could’ve been the man that drove her here. She suddenly, ironically feels herself not wanting to leave. She can’t seem to move. Her feet feel too heavy. Her mind and body aching from overexertion.

“Jessica?” She hears Martin call to her but she feels too far away to respond. Only the wall behind her is holding her up. “Jessie.” The annoyance laced in his tone exacerbated as she hears the door to the hallway slide open. “Jess!” Panic.

The door opens beside her and Malcolm and Ainsley step in, looking equally alarmed and agitated. Their eyes fall on her, and she sees the color strip from their faces. Malcolm is on her in a second, hands holding her up by her elbows. She must look too pale because he looks like he’s ready for her to faint.

Ainsley, on the other hand, whips around to Martin, eyes accusatory. “What the fuck did you do to her?” She should stop her, a part of her thinks. Yet she still doesn’t move. It’s Mr. David who grabs Ainsley by the middle pulling her back over the red line towards safety. Whether it’s her own or Martin’s she’s not entirely sure.

“Mom. Hey, mom. Look at me.” She does. “We gotta go. Ok?” No, they can’t. It’s not safe. How did they get here? “Gil’s waiting outside. They wouldn’t let him in, but he’s going to take us back.” She relaxes a little. She needs to warn them about the cop. She needs to. But she feels lightheaded and her heels are far too unstable. “I got you, it’s ok.” And he smiles, that gentle smile when he swears that everything will be alright. “Ains, come on.”

She’s braced on both sides by her kids as she walks out with Martin shouting behind them.

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