It was Zoe who started it all (or at least that's what he tried to tell himself later).

The last few months of their marriage were filled with harsh words which lead to cutting remarks. It was funny that it was really only one that stuck into him, stuck with him. "And you think you're human?" She had stood before him, hands on her hips. She shook her head, curls bouncing angrily. "You're all puffed up with the power you think you have." Puffed up. Brought him right back to his school days, that did.

But, as much as a comment can stick with a person, stuck with him, without another catalyst those comments can be almost ignored.

It was Loker who brought the matter to a head.

It was in the aftermath of a large case for the FBI, investigating the serial disappearance of similar sixteen year old boys. The culprit had been right under his nose the entire time, but it hadn't been anyone he had thought to question. A school lunch delivery man had befriended the boys at different schools and had then abducted them to star in his sick homemade pornos.

Cal had found himself, at the close of it, sitting in his office, nursing a cup of black coffee, berating himself for not figuring it out sooner, for not asking the right questions. Exhaustion was seeping into the corners of his vision and the back of his mind and, sick of his office though he was, he was simply too tired to leave. All the work of the past two days had been done in-house and twice Cal had crashed on his sofa, snatching a few hours of uneasy sleep.

Sleep. The thought was like salve for his tired brain and he gulped some of his coffee down and passed a hand across his face, willing himself not to fall asleep before he could make it home.

Loker, hands in his pockets, ambled in to see the spectacle of the tired boss.

"I thought about asking your permission to go home," he began, apropos of nothing, "but I changed my mind."

Cal tipped his head to the side. "And to what do I owe this irrelevant flaunting of my authority?" he asked, accent thick with fatigue.

Loker smiled crookedly and glanced around the darkened office before starting up again.

"Well, number one, I'm going home regardless of what you say, so it's silly to ask your permission. And two, considering the way you've been treating yourself, you might think we can all operate that way and say no."

Cal touched a finger to his temple. "And how exactly is it that I operate? I'm assuming that's what you came in here to tell me in the first place."

Loker changed his stance and rested a hand on his hip, leaving the other free to gesture with. Lovely, he was going into lecture mode, Cal thought, not bothering to repress the grimace Loker would expect and see anyway.

"For the two plus days we've had this case, you've run yourself ragged. You look terrible."

"Well, thanks. Platitudes get you quite far with your boss," Cal drawled.

Loker continued, ignoring Lightman's comment. "Disregarding all the emotional strings you've pulled with all the acting displays you put on, you've been running around here without stop, staring at monitors, pacing, and probably getting a total of five hours of sleep throughout the whole thing. It's crazy!"

Lightman raised an eyebrow at the spiel. "Anything else I should be aware of?" he drawled.

The young man fixed him with a stare. "Yeah. There is."

Loker shifted his stance again and cocked his head as if to examine Lightman.

"You haven't eaten a bite of food in the past fifty hours."

Something lurched in Cal's stomach, but he kept his face neutral. He had been aware of the fact, abstractly, but for Loker to state it like it was a severe abnormality was arresting. He had known, but he hadn't quite realized it was an unusual feat.

"Go home, Loker." Lightman stood and pulled his jacket on. Loker raised his hands in resigned protest and left the room.

Zoe may have started it, but Loker set the wheels in motion. Loker showed him he could be good at it.