A/N After watching 'Gone', I was really moved by Cal's admission to the son about his father beating him. I wanted to use that as a catalyst to do a wee Cal/Gillian one-shot and have another look at the fantastically dysfunctional-yet-brilliant friendship they have. Usual disclaimer applies. All reviews are so appreciated – I love them even more than Gill loves her chocolate pudding/orange slushie fix ;) This continues from the last shot of the episode with Cal leaving the house as Gillian goes back inside with Collette. From there I slightly alter the ending as I would have preferred it ;) xx.
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Gillian watched Cal reverse out of the driveway. He paused before turning onto the road and looked up at the house. Gillian drew a breath quickly and retreated into the abscess of the living room. He hadn't seen her silhouette, he wasn't looking at her. Instead he appeared deep in thought: uncharacteristically reflective. It wasn't that Cal didn't take time to sit down and muse, but never in public. That's what a locked door and tumbler of scotch was for. Cal liked to keep everyone at arms length, keep them from knowing how affected he was by certain situations.
The sedan rolled smoothly out of the driveway and accelerated down the road. Another successful day, Gillian thought as the rumble of the engine moved farther and farther away. Gillian turned to the family sitting in the living room, looking at her expectantly. "Thank you" whispered Collette, still clutching the baby to her chest. Gillian smile, and it was genuine, "I'll let you all get on with your evening shortly. I am sure there is a lot you all have to discuss" she studied the room's occupants as her words bounced around the walls: L.J. swallowed hard, Collette's lips formed a thin line and shame flashed across her brow, remarkably, relief was the only distinguishable expression on Lane's face. That redeemed him slightly in Gillian's eyes. "There are just these last little bits of paperwork to be finalised so we can tie everything up our end, it shouldn't take long to go through". Lane drew a chair next to her and as he flicked through the various documents signing and initialling them, Gillian allowed her mind to wander and, as invariably occurred; it came to rest on Cal. Looking over at L.J. she wondered what exactly had gone on today. "While your parents are doing this, L.J., would you mind just having a quick word with me?" she asked cordially.
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Gillian sat in her car, the engine shut off, gazing up towards the innocuous home, brightly lit from the inside. God knows Cal hated feeling reined in but today was rough on him and Gillian felt guilty that she hadn't really acknowledged the extent and the ferocity of the demons that Cal would be wrestling. He wasn't good at dealing with emotion at the best of times and when it came to his parents and his childhood, Cal Lightman was one hell of a Pandora's Box.
She hadn't yet managed to leave the car. She felt stupid. Perhaps she was being overbearing. Perhaps she wasn't giving Cal enough credit – maybe today hadn't rattled him as fiercely as it had rattled her. Perhaps she was only doing this for herself, because she needed him to wrap his arms around her and tell her its OK to miss her sweet little baby girl. Perhaps it was she who had spent all day wrestling demons.
The streetlight above her car flickered and emitted an electrical sounding hiss; it shocked her like a gun fired at the beginning of a race. Gillian shook her head, whatever her motives for coming here, she knew what Cal had told L.J. and he could sing the phone book of excuses but she knew today had effected him on some level. Emboldened, Gillian stepped from the car.
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She knocked lightly on the solid oak front door three times, absentmindedly pushing the stray strands of hair from her face while she studied her black pumps. The front door swung open and Gillian's head snapped to attention. She smiled gently and murmured "hi" as Cal stood slightly above her, eyes casting about her figure, slowly regarding her. Gillian could hear Emily inside, happily chatting away to someone Gillian didn't recognise, perhaps the infamous Liam?
Cal pushed the front door wider and leant against it his body slightly barricading the entrance, "well I guess I should invite ya in then shouldn't I, love?" The question was rhetorical, but Gillian paused on the threshold, searching his face, if only he'd just shed the goddamn mask for a second. No one on this earth could possibly want to be so closed to everyone, all the time. And there it was: his eyes softened, his posture suddenly less antagonistic, "come on love, I'll put the jug on".
"Hey Em!" Gillian smiled at the bubbly teenager who was gathering books together as the rather attractive teenager, whom Gilliam presumed to be Liam, slung a backpack over his shoulder. "Hey Gill!" she said smiling brightly. Emily reached out and touched the sleeve of the shirt the boy was wearing, "Liam this is dad's business partner. The one I've told you about". His face lit up with recognition, "Dr Foster! It's a pleasure to meet you" he said extending his hand. Gillian took his hand noting his earnest expression, "please, call me Gillian". If this guy didn't impress Lightman then poor Emily had no hope in hell: he was polite and charming and had certainly impressed Gillian at any rate. Gillian turned and began to make her way to the kitchen where Cal was crashing around with cups and plates.
"Dad!" Emily shouted, "Liam's leaving now". The raucous in the kitchen stopped and Cal appeared around the doorframe, "perhaps you should go with him? Ya know, keep workin' on that debate stuff, but jus' not 'ere…". There it was again, Gillian observed, the mask back on: exaggerated facials and wild gesticulations to muddy any truth visible on his face. Emily sighed; creasing her brow in frustration "what?" the rising inflection betrayed her confusion and exasperation. Could he just stop being so damn unpredictable? "Well, Gill and I have some work to do and you'll just be in the way". Gillian managed to quickly hide a smile at the reference to 'Gill' rather than 'Foster'. He knew why she was here, she wondered if Emily picked up on these nuances, and if she did, would she get the wrong impression? The perceptive teenager's eyes flicked between the two adults standing in the kitchen, Emily deftly raised an eyebrow at Gillian, "I hope you have a better time understanding him than I do" she remarked. Gillian smirked, "not even at the best of times sweetheart".
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The front door closed firmly behind Emily and Liam. Gillian's gaze returned to Cal whose back was to her as he busied himself filling the kettle. Gillian leaned against the island in the kitchen in a subconscious attempt to brace herself for the inevitable barrage of deflection from Cal. "I'm sorry I wasn't around much today" she offered. Cal's shoulders rose slightly and then slumped back down as he exhaled. Gillian walked around the island so she was standing next to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. Cal opened his mouth to speak, about to say something snarky, to brush away the sentiment, but her nurturing caress surprised him and instead he managed to respond sounding merely offhand. "You were brilliant today Gill. With the doctor. With the family. I know it wouldn't have been easy for you…" he tapered off and studied Gillian's face, waiting for a reaction and hoping that he had managed to shift the focus to her. The corners of her mouth twitched, he couldn't tell yet if it was contempt or amusement, "that was a terrible attempt to manipulate me Cal" she said, a small smile creeping through. He sighed but his eyes were twinkling, "worth a shot love".
The kettle had boiled and Cal turned away to fill the teapot with hot water while Gillian gathered the cups he had placed on the island alongside the biscuits that Emily, presumably, had baked and carried them into the living room, setting everything down on the coffee table. Watching him from her position in the corner of the sofa, mildly amused Gillian called out to Cal, "you're just delaying the inevitable. I did not come to talk about me and you know it. Stop being such an idiot and come here".
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She had let him pour the tea in silence. She had let him agonise over which biscuit looked the best in silence. In silence she watched him eat it all in one go. And finally, when he leaned back sated Cal knew he needed to break the silence. "I'm sorry love" he was tentative, quiet. "I don't mean to shut you out, I really don't. I think sometimes I forget that you're not a mind-reader. I think I expect you to be a mind-reader". Gillian leaned forward and placed her hand on the side of his face, her thumb stroked his cheekbone for a few seconds before she withdrew her hand. He felt like her blue eyes were staring into his soul. Into that little dark place where all his demons were kept tucked away. God he was glad she wasn't a mind reader.
Cal shifted; he hated being this unguarded, even around the person he trusted the most, but he held her gaze. He owed her that much. "I assume you're here because L.J. told you what I said to him? Bloody tattle tale" he grinned slightly. Gillian didn't buy it, "Cal, the brusque attitude, the mannerisms…The mask. Don't shut me out. Quit the bravado. You aren't above your own emotions". She swallowed hard, she hated putting her shrink hat on with Cal purely because she knew he hated her wearing it. "Yes, he told me what you said to him. About his father. About your father". Gillian paused while she waited for any kind of reaction from Cal. He looked at her, unreadable as ever. She felt anxious but pushed forward, "I want you to be able to talk to me about these things. As a friend," she added, "as a friend, not a psychologist. Stop playing the martyr. You aren't being a hero by bottling it up. You're being…" her speech faltered as Gillian searched for the right word. "…a plonker?" Cal offered. She smiled, it was genuine he noted, mixed with relief and sadness and concern and fear and – bloody hell she was an emotional smorgasbord right now.
"I guess that would be an accurate description" she gave a small laugh, "you really do make it hard for the people that are closest to you Cal". He slouched further down the sofa, legs sprawled everywhere and neck bent at weird angles – how was that comfortable? "What happened to you at the institution? What did you-" she cleared her throat, "who did you hallucinate that night Cal?" Gillian's voice was soft but her question hung in the air and Cal finally understood the meaning of 'deafening silence'. Gillian bit her lip apprehensively; she knew how precariously close Cal teetered to the edge in these situations. He could either embrace it: trust her and talk, or he could flip out and surround himself in the comfort and 'safety' his mask provided. "Your perseverance with me is admirable Gill. I don't know why you put up with me". Gillian's eyes narrowed, "I put up with you because you're my best friend and I love you. How I put up with you is quite another matter". She made a motion to stand, drained from this bizarre emotional back-and-forth that they had been engaging in. You can take a horse to water but you can't make it drink.
Cal internally berated himself; he didn't want her to go. He sat up suddenly, leaning right into her personal space and grabbed her wrist, "I'm sorry. I'm a right pain and I don't deserve a friend like you. Least of all a best friend like you". He looked her dead in the eye and loosed his grip on her wrist; his fingers gently stroked the soft skin above her pulse point, "how much time you got love?" Gillian rolled her eyes, "I've got all night Cal".
And there it was. Her generosity, warmth and kindness. His closeted vulnerability, fear and apprehension. Diametrically opposed though they seem their love and mutual respect for one another supersedes everything. In their line of work, the truth can be elusive. They see it being bent and manipulated; people operating on a continuum of honesty. But right now sitting in silence, hands entwined, knowing that they won't ever walk alone: this truth was self evident. In their quiet reverie they acknowledged it. They are soul mates.