A/N: Present day. Makes reverences to past eps. I don't own any of these lovely people.

Anniversary

She knew where to find him. She always knew where to find him on this night.

The lights of the tavern on 17th street cast a muted glow on the otherwise dark, drizzly surroundings. Finding a space to park on the street, she navigated the uneven sidewalk to the door of the Cock and Bull, finger-brushing the rain out of her hair as she entered. It was closing time, and Mike caught her gaze as he lifted dark wooden chairs up onto gouged wooden tables. He nodded toward the booth in the back right corner.

"He's been here a while. I have his keys."

"Thanks, Mike," she said, and a brief smile of understanding passed between them.

The brown haired man's table contained a shot glass and a pair of elbows with hands that were cradling his head. Her trench coat rustled as she slid into the seat opposite him, and he slowly looked up.

"Foster. Wanna drink?" His eyes were dull, and there was no welcoming smile.

"No thanks, Cal. Actually I've come –"

"Well, I wanna drink!" He gestured to Mike, who shook his head and said, "Sorry Cal. Closing time."

Cal looked ready to argue, and Gillian placed a hand on his arm. "Come on, Cal. Let's go home."

"Don' wanna go home. Rather stay here."

"Do you have Emily tonight?"

Cal closed his eyes, trying to remember. "I don' think so. Think she's at a friend's."

"Okay, then. Let's go get some fresh air, shall we?" Gillian stood up and waited for Cal, who rose, grumbling.

"Always get your way, don'cha? Who put your name on the door?" He weaved in a small circle like a top's last spin, and Gillian latched firmly onto his left arm.

"You want some help with him?" asked Mike, bringing over Cal's keys.

Gillian glanced at Cal, who was attempting a more erect posture. "I think I've got him, Mike. Thanks."

"Sure thing." Mike went over and held the front door open, and Gillian maneuvered Cal through the wood-framed doorway.

The rainy night air seemed to disorient Cal, and he swayed alarmingly. Gillian stopped their sideways movement, and draped Cal's left arm across her shoulders. She grabbed his hand with her left, and wrapped her right arm around his waist. "Let's do this the traditional way," she murmured.

Her car wasn't far, and she maintained a firm hold on Cal's waist as she fumbled to unlock the passenger's door with her left hand. "We'll pick up your car tomorrow," she said, as she maneuvered him into the passenger's seat. He flopped against the seat back, and lolled his head toward the window. She gave him a brief smile through the glass, and went around to unlock her side.

Driving through the 3am streets of the city, Gillian thought Cal had gone to sleep – passed out was more like it. But at the second stop light, he rolled his head her way and asked, "How d'ja know where to find me?"

"How do I always know where to find you, Cal? It's where you are every year.

"Good point, luv." He sighed. "Guess I'm just a fuck-up, yeah?" He rolled his head back over to gaze dully out the window, but not before Gillian saw the, albeit drunken, look of shame.

"You're not a fuck-up, Cal."

"Yeah, I am. I fucked up my mum's suicide. I fucked up my marriage. I don' spend enough fucking time with Emily. I even fuck up you." He clamped down at that, and closed his eyes.

"Cal." Pausing for the right words, Gillian laid a hand on his sleeve. Every year on the anniversary of his mother's suicide, they went through this. Some years it was worse than others. If they'd had a particularly hard case, or if he was going though a rough time with Zoe, he'd end up at Mike's in a state of self-flagellation. This year, with Zoe trying to take Emily away to Chicago, and his life balanced at the end of a muzzle of a gun, had been especially brutal.

Squeezing his arm gently to get his attention, she said, "Cal, I'm going to tell you what I tell you every year. You WERE NOT responsible for your mother's suicide. No one could've seen it coming. Microexpressions hadn't even been discovered yet, and just because you discovered them after the fact does, in no way, make you responsible. I wish I could ink another tattoo around your arm that says, 'It was not my fault' and make you recite it each day." She glanced sideways at him, and saw that he now had his eyes half-open, facing front. She put both hands on the wheel.

"As for your marriage," she continued with a sigh, "remember, it takes two. I think you and Zoe could be poster children for hardheadedness, and you both never wanted to back down. We all make mistakes in a marriage, Cal. Don't you think I blame myself for what happened with Alec and me? I've been trying to get past that, though, and concentrate on the things I can make a difference in."

"You wear pink," Cal whispered with a small smile. His eyelids closed.

"Yes, I do. And it feels good." Gillian sent a small smile back, and took hold of his left hand. "You're doing a great job with Emily, Cal. She is a wonderful child – perceptive, warm-hearted, stubborn, empathetic, intuitive… In many ways, she's just like you. "

As she pulled into her parking space, she noticed that Cal's mouth was open, and he was taking deep, drugged breaths. Sighing to herself, she went around and opened his door. She had to shake him a few times before he blearily opened his eyes.

"Come on, Cal. Let's go inside." She pulled on him and got him up and out, then again wrapped his arm over her shoulders and her arm around his waist. They were halfway up the stairs when he said, "This isn't my house."

"No, it's not. I didn't think you should be alone tonight."

"You're too good to me, luv," he said as he woefully shook his head, causing both of them to lose their balance somewhat on the stairway.

Steadying them, and continuing forward, Gillian soon had Cal propped against the wall of the condo while she unlocked the door. The living room light she had left on beckoned warmly.

"I don' deserve ya, luv," muttered Cal, as Gillian peeled him away from the wall. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she looked at him a moment before pulling him into a hug. He leaned heavily into her, and rested his head against her neck, sloppily returning the hug.

"You deserve a lot more, Cal," Gillian whispered, as she turned and led him inside.