Even though neither of them have are fans of Cold Case, this is for Dana because her constant encouragement and general awesomeness are really rather fantastic (also she named this) and for A. because her constant pestering was really rather amusing. :) (I use "pestering" in the nicest sense.)
I feel as if I should have a disclaimer or something, so here:
If I owned Cold Case, it'd still be on T.V.
When she tells him, "Don't worry; I got a gun," he worries anyway. He's seen her determined and afraid before, but never to this degree. There was always some level of separation. But right now, he's not so sure that she can compartmentalize anything.
She knew he'd lied. Knew it. But she had a case to solve, and she really didn't want to fight with him about Chris again. Now, though-now, she's pissed and looking for a fight; and she really hates being lied to.
He feels like they're going in circles over Chris, always arguing over her. He knows she realizes they're repeating history when her eyes widen after she says, "You lied to my face!" He also notices that the line has lost its loudness over time. He's not sure if that means that she'll forgive him quicker or that she expects him to lie to her.
The thought of leaving had never really crossed her mind. He knows that, but he throws it in her face anyway, unable to stop his heart from squeezing his voice at the thought of her leaving.
She doesn't forget about anything. It comes in handy sometimes when solving a case, but for the most part, it kind of sucks. So, when he tells her that she should just forget about him, that she already did about her sister, all she can say is "What?" without crying right there on the street.
He tries to dissolve the fight, if only to get that haunted, shattered look out of her eyes. He thinks that this is what she must have looked like when she turned from him in the lobby of PPD five years ago. He feels so guilty. About everything.
At least this time she doesn't turn from him. She trusts him enough to face him with every emotion plastered on her face; she knows he won't hurt her on purpose again. She asks him why, hoping he'll just understand that she means both now and then. When he says that he has his own issues, she knows that he does understand.
Stillman means it when he says he doesn't want to know about Lil and Scotty's business. He wonders when it became Scotty's job to help Rush with family stuff, but, to be honest, he'd seen this coming for a while.
She promises herself that she'll stay detached, that she'll ignore the burning clenching in her chest at Scotty's lie and the realization that she really couldn't trust Chris.
She shows him the picture, and he gets this smile on his face. She kind of likes it. Maybe he'd be the one to watch her videos; that'd prove Smith wrong. When he mentions his own photos, she can't help but think that she'd like to smile like that at them too.
They're both essentially angry people. He just has a temper that flares at the harm of a loved one, while she has just been so sad for so long that evolution has taken its course and changed melancholy into rage.
Before their partnership, there was never really anyone to stem the flow of fists or curses, but over seven years, they've managed to center each other. She's pulled him off killers and he's kept her from shooting them. She's got a second chance, a real one, at having a family. She doesn't want to ruin that.
She puts away the gun.
When they're driving home, he can't not look at them-her-every few moments. He thinks he's seen her determined before, but never was it so calm and resolute. He's happy for her, for her and Chris. And he's a little happy for himself too.