Title: What You Never Saw
Character/pairing: N/A
Rating: PG/T
Spoilers: Season One, First Half of Season Two.
Summary: Sometimes it's what you don't see that is most important.
Author's Note: The continuing tales of OC Abigail Andrews. Please read "The Crush", "Happy Belated Birthday" and "Masks" for more back story on Abigail and her more amusing interactions with Cal Lightman.
XXXXX
Prologue
SIX MONTHS EARLIER...
If there was one thing Abigail Andrews hated it was being unceremoniously awoken in the morning. Abigail's roommate knew and respected this and always made sure that his schedule in the morning, whatever it may be, never caused Abigail to wake up. He had been on the receiving end of that particular anger-filled rant more times than he cared to remember, however on this particular morning the roommate was nowhere to be seen. Still, something had woken her up, but what?
Abigail sat up in bed, slightly stunned and still more than half asleep when a rhythmic pounding emanated from the heavy front door of the shared apartment. She decided that it couldn't be anyone worth getting up for as whomever it was had not buzzed up to be allowed in. With an audible groan, she flopped back down onto her bed, pulling her sheets and comforter up over her head.
The pounding continued, she continued to ignore it.
When Abigail heard the familiar tones of a loud and frustrated British accent coming through the door and down the hall to her room, a voice that was saying, "For God's sakes, love, you call me up this early in the morning, when I'm still sore from our last romp because, Good Lord woman, you ride me like a rodeo pony, telling me you need some 'British Delight', whatever the hell that is, to get you through your morning, and then you have the gall to leave me standing here for everyone to see, and how hear-"
Moving fast was not one of Abigail's strong points, but knowing full well that her entire floor had just hear her boss, Doctor Cal Lightman, espouse lies about her needing him for an early morning sex romp, she made it out of bed, into her robe and had the door open before he could finish his sentence. "Get in here," she hissed, trying to ignore the very interested look she was receiving from Mrs Boothe, her 86 year old neighbour. Cal poked his head back outside of the front door, winked at Mrs Boothe and said, "We'll try to make it extra loud for you, eh?" before Abigail physically pulled him into her apartment and slammed her door shut.
"You're sick!" she exclaimed, hitting him none too lightly on the arm.
"I'm efficient," Cal commented back, rubbing his arm. "Tossing me around, hitting me? I always knew you liked it rough, Abby," he leered, his eyes dark yet twinkling.
Abigail wisely chose not to continue that particular discourse with Cal. Trying to spar with her older colleague would only end up with her confused as to what they were really talking about. Cal Lightman was not one you chose to verbally attack unless you knew exactly why you were attacking him in the first place. "What time is it?"
Cal frowned slightly. "You're not even trying anymore." Abigail raised her right eyebrow at him and he looked at his watch. "It is almost seven o'clock in the morning."
"It's not even seven? Get out," Abigail glowered, pointing at the door.
"I have a very good reason for being here this early, if that helps," Cal offered.
"I don't care if you've found a two headed dinosaur that sings, get out!"
Cal quickly changed tactics. "Is your roommate here?"
"No."
"When is the last time you saw him?"
Abigail's eyebrows knitted together, as she tried to remember when she had last seen her roommate. "A few days ago, maybe Saturday? What does this have to do with anything?"
"He's involved with something," Cal said smoothly, his eyes taking in her every facial twitch. "Something bad."
Rolling her eyes Abigail snorted, "Oh, please. Philip, involved with something bad? He's a singer! What, did he up and join Menudo or something?" she joked, crossing her arms in front of her.
"You're uncomfortable," Cal pointed out, letting his gaze graze over her crossed arms.
"I'm uncomfortable at you accusing someone you don't know anything about of doing something bad," Abigail replied archly.
Cal pulled a sheet of folded paper from inside his jacket pocked. He unfolded it and held it up to for Abigail her to see. The paper had a colour image printed on it, and that image was of Abigail's roommate Philip holding a gun to a persons head, while another man held a gun to Philip's head. Abigail's eyes widened and she backed herself up against a wall.
"What happened?" Abigail whispered, tearing her shocked eyes away from the image on the paper and meeting Cal's.
Cal refolded the paper and held it out to Abigail but she made no move to take it away from him, so he put it back into his jacket pocket. "We don't know for sure yet, love," he said gently, putting his hands on Abigail's shoulders and slightly squeezing them. "The police are downstairs, they want to talk to you and search the apartment. The sergeant owes me a few favours so he let me come up and talk to you first." She nodded, only half hearing him. "Am I allowed to get dressed? Before they-" she trailed.
"Of course, they know you're not going anywhere." Cal nodded, and after he realized he'd said too much he silently hoped that Abigail didn't notice what he'd said. Sadly, she had heard him. "Not going anywhere," Abigail repeated. "Am I a suspect in something?"
"No, Abby, you are not," Cal said in what he hoped was his most reassuring tone. "The police just want to talk to you about Philip, that's all. I'll be here with you the whole time."
Silently, Abigail turned and walked back to her room, Cal following. He took up a position outside of her bedroom door looking out and away from her room, hearing drawers open, the sound of clothes being taken off and being pulled on. She invited Cal in when she was finished dressing, when he entered he saw her sitting on the edge of her bed looking dejected, hands folded in her lap. Cal crouched to be at eye level with her.
"Is he OK?" Tears had begun to pool in Abigail's eyes.
Cal put his hands on top of hers. "No news is good news, right?"
Abigail looked into Cal's eyes. "Please don't lie to me," she quietly pleaded. "If you know something, anything, you need to tell me. Please."
"I have told you everything I know," Cal answered, eyes looking directly into Abigail's. She sighed and closed her eyes, "I believe you."
Cal pulled his cell phone out of its holster. "I'm going to let the police know they can come up, all right?"
Abigail silently nodded as Cal dialed the number and made the call.
XXXXX
PRESENT DAY...
In the early morning light at the offices of The Lightman Group, four tall men wearing jumpsuits waited patiently for the staff members to make their way into the office for the day. The four men were there for two people and two only; they would not make their presence known until those two had arrived at the building.
Singly and in groups members of the staff began to filter into the building. None of them were the two people the med were looking for, so the four men continued with their menial blending in tasks. No one ever suspects the office cleaners, especially when they've been working there for the past few months.
Doctor Lightman needed to pay, he and his little protégé in training. They would pay for what they did, pay for the blood on their hands.
It was their fault their Leader's son, Philip, was dead.
Now they would pay dearly.