Gillian smirked at him. At first she was trying to hide her feelings, her shock, her hurt, mostly her anger, but there he stood all 'high and mighty' Cal Lightman, fawning over his next one-night-stand that he'll drag around the office for the next few days. So instead she spoke only to him, in a away only he would understand. No there were no words, just flashes. 5th of a second micro expression flashes. The woman standing next to him would have no idea they were even communicating. Their eyes were already locked.
Contempt. He saw it as clear as day. Anger. Oh, and lots of it. She was talking to him and he kept his face as stiff as stone, not letting her have the satisfaction of knowing her looks were effecting him. No one could play him at his own game like Gillian. She used his ability, his predictability against him. She knew he would read her; she knew the power she had over him, how what she was feeling affected him. Cal fought the urge to cringe at the flashes of emotion she was sending his way.
Foster could read him. No matter how hard he tried, she was his weak link, his blind spot and with her, he knew she could see things. Like he said, no one could play him at his game like her. She was afraid that her trick wouldn't work, that Cal, who was usually so aware of her emotions, would be so angry and frustrated that he wouldn't even care that he had hurt her. But then she saw it: his slight faulter.
When Gillian seemed content with his little shown reaction (which she knew meant he was bottling up heaps inside) she started laughing. That pissed Cal off even more. Not only did she know she had gotten him, but she was proud of herself, happy. Then he saw it, it came and went faster than any expression he had ever seen before: sadness. Deep seeded sadness.
Gillian knew what had to be done. She really did find it funny. In a cruel, harsh world kind of way. She had spend 8 years of her life with this man. Building a company, building a friendship, building a connection unmatched by any other- all with this man. To her it had meant everything: Her pentagon job, her friendships, her stress-free life, her marriage. All had faded because of her pure dedication and determination to make The Lightman Group work and continue to work. But it was just that: The Lightman Group. She kicked herself for not seeing it back then. It was the Lightman Group. It would always be the Lightman Group. And it would forever be all about Cal Lightman. She couldn't do it anymore. It was almost self-deprecating. Cal ignored her, mocked her concern, spit on everything she put into this company, and she let him. Every week, every case she let him walk all over her. And that was not who Gillian Foster was. She was strong and determined and proud, of herself, her work, her abilities. Somehow she had to get back to that. Gillian knew what had to be done.
The sadness caught Cal off guard. Everything else he expected. He even knew she was hurt and knew she would never let him see that, but nevertheless he knew she felt it. But sadness? Had he really hurt her that bad? His face flinched for a second and Gillian's laugh stopped. Everything stopped. Their eyes locked. And she was so good, Cal couldn't even read her face.
"I can't do this anymore Cal. I won't." And with that she was gone. Cal heard the click of her heels headed to her office. His legs were frozen. His mind was frozen. After a few moments Wallowski softly touched his arm. Cal flinched.
"Are you ok?" It was as if her words broke the ice holding him captive. Cal's head snapped up.
"I have to go. We'll have to do this anotha night." Cal didn't even wait for her response as he headed towards his partner's office. He had no plan, no speech, no nothing. But this was his Foster, she had to listen.
Cal slowly walked into the dimly lit office to see Gillian placing the things from her desk into a crate she had laying around. She didn't look up as he walked in. Cal walked up next to her and took the stapler out as she had just put it in. Gillian placed a picture frame in and Cal took it back out. She took a notebook and placed it in and as soon as it hit the bottom he had it back out.
"Cal-" Foster's voice was thick with warning but Cal noticed she still couldn't look him in the eyes and just continued her task. Cal thought about his next move: push her and risk her completely shutting him out, give her room and risk her just completely walking out. Instead he placed his hands over hers and cradled them in his, stopping her task. Maybe words weren't even the best move. Maybe with them it didn't have to involve speaking.
Gillian was at a loss at what to say. She had made her grand statement and walked away. Of course he would come after you, part of her kept repeating. The other part was shocked that he didn't take his new 'help' and waltz right out that door without looking back. If she was being completely honest, Gillian didn't have a plan. Yes, she had been feeling under-appreciated, overworked, and unhappy for quite sometime, but really hadn't thought about what she was going to do about that. But Cal had been mean, he'd been a harsh, cold, uncaring ass. Of course over the years Foster had seen him like this plenty. Quite often actually. But not to her. Never to her. And she finally felt what it was like to be on the receiving end of Cal Lightman's selfishness, distrust, and flat out cruelty. That one conversation, well really one-sided monologue, was enough to last Gillian a lifetime. She had never felt so hurt, so shocked, so- well hurt was really the best way to describe it. He'd threatened her. Her career, their friendship, their last 8 years, everything.
Ever since Lightman and Foster had become both single, available adults, things had changed. Longing glances they'd call each other out on, extra hugs, double the cheek kisses, dilated pupils, hands always touching another part of the person's body whether it be the small of her back, or his upper arm. The flirting had reached an almost ridiculous level. There were innuendos in every sentence, double meanings of every word. They pushed each other until one of them, (usually Gillian) brought them back or incited the infamous 'line'. It was innocent. Ok, it wasn't, but they tried as hard as they could to make it innocent. Wasn't it just fun and games? But both knew that they had long been, as people, partners, friends, so intertwined that leading two separate lives at this point would be impossible. Unable to handle, or want to handle what was becoming quickly a very slippery slope of friendship/partners, to something more, neither of them wanted to even discuss what that would mean.
Cal held her hands in his, stroking his thumb across the back of her soft, pale skin. He could feel her pulse racing, her body tensing. It made his do the same. She always had that affect on him. Damn, he knew he had no right to ask her to stay. It was why he hadn't already. Cal had hurt her, hurt her bad. He had been angry, he needed to make a point, but his intention was not to hurt her. Of course he knew it would, but it was never his plan to just hurt Gillian. It was just a consequence that went along with proving his point. And he still firmly believed that he was right and that what he said was right. She was smothering him with her motherly glares, and words of advise, and doing things behind his back. Like freezing his assets. She had no right to do that. She was his partner, not his mother, not someone who did things because it was in his best interest. That was not her job. Although she had taken on 'controlling him' as part of her motherly act, and he just couldn't handle it any longer.
Gillian glanced up at his face to see anger flash through them. She pulled her hands from his and moved to the window, running her hands through her hair. He still believed he was right. He still believed that hurting her, to prove his point, hurting her worse than he ever had before, was worth it in the end. She could see that on his face. And yes, guilt too. She knew he felt at least a smidge bad for feeling that way, but not enough to affect her.
"Cal-" Gillian said again, still unable to meet his eyes. They would crush her. This she knew from experience. Cal spent more time in her head than she did. Gillian needed to say this, needed to do this. "I'm leaving, Cal." Foster whispered.
"For how long, luv?" His voice had turned into resign, as if he was defeated.
"I don't know. 3 months? A week? 2 years? Forever? I don't know." Gillian finally looked up to meet his eyes. He had once again become a rock, no emotion visible on his face. Gillian didn't let much seep through either. She felt right about leaving. She felt right about taking a stand. This was her life. She needed to find that, to find herself again. And she wasn't lying when she said she didn't know when or if she could come back. But she couldn't be at work tomorrow. That much she did know.
"Luv, what I said earlier-" She cut him off.
"Stop. I can read your face Cal. You are sorry it hurt me, sorry it led to this point. But you are not sorry you said it Cal. To you it was the truth then and it's the truth now. And I cannot work with that hanging over my head. You make a move that could cost us this whole company, everything and it doesn't matter, it is all a joke. But I make one move to protect us and you threaten me. I cannot, I will not work like that." The tension and silence in the room thickened.
"Ok." He whispered.
"Ok?" All traces of thickness in the air gone.
"If that is what you need, Gill. I gotta deal with the consequences of my actions luv. And-" He paused, making sure his emotionless mask was still in tact. "And ok." He whispered to finish.
"Ok." Gillian whispered. Cal slowly came up to her and they both urgently wrapped their arms around each other in a hug. Cal kissed her cheek as they pulled apart.
"I'm on my cell-" Cal headed towards the door. "If you need me." He glanced back to his partner once more and she gave him a small, reassuring smile and nod before he walked out of her office and headed down the hallway.