A/N: What do I do when I should be sleeping? I write stuff like this. This little story takes place about a year-ish before the series starts. Ish.
Disclaimer: I don't own any television shows. I do, however, have a word processor.
"Divorce Present"
Heidi wouldn't be the only one to notice that the dark brown stain from yesterday's lunch was still on her boss's shirt. As he walked in the door, she would be too smart to try to hide her reactions—she'd been here long enough to know that Lightman didn't mind the truth as long as it was being offered freely.
Well, most of the time.
When his wife had given him that one piece of truth, that I'm-not-willing-to-put-any-more-work-into-this-marriage-and-I'm-leaving-you revelation, he'd been less than appreciative, and there had been a hole punched through the wall to prove it. As he passed Heidi and her you're-the-face-of-this-company? glances, he knew that hole was waiting to greet him. Again. Maybe today he'd care enough to do something about it, instead of let it stare at him and judge him on his personal life.
Maybe not.
Sometimes, he felt like a castaway, on an island somewhere. He'd been stranded so long that he didn't even know how long he'd been lost—the days all ran together. Only, instead of climbing trees for coconuts, he was on the hunt for liars, day in, day out, until one day he looked in the mirror and it had been months since Zoe was gone. Months since he had that family he had always dreamed of.
With a sigh, he opened the door to his office, watching his feet take one step at a time, daring them to keep going, even though he had no energy left. Why he even bothered to come in was beyond him some days. He let out another heavy breath and threw himself in his chair.
"Hello there."
The shock that ran through his body almost stopped his heart. He raised his head, and for the first time saw the figure of a woman standing only a foot away from him. It took him a few seconds to settle back into misery.
"You wanted something, Foster?"
He dared for a second to throw his eyes up at her, just to see how long he could stare into the sun. She was just as cheerful as he'd expected, and it made his stomach sour.
"I was just wondering if you had any plans for that masterpiece you made a few weeks back. Or is it supposed to be modern art?"
"Art? What?" Her words didn't sound sarcastic or reproachful. Was she making a joke? At eight in the morning?
She leaned in to emphasize her point. "The hole in the wall, Cal. Are you going to fix it, or have you decided to think of it as decorative?"
He met her smile with a scowl twice as strong. "Oh, I dunno. I'll get around to it."
"Well, what if you didn't have to?"
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Now, he had to make eye contact. It crossed his mind that this had been part of her plan all along.
"I was going over the budget last week, and we've had a really good quarter. I put some extra funds into research and training, and we still had some left over." Lightman's eyebrows were raised just as high as they could go, though his partner didn't seem to notice. "So, I was thinking that maybe we could use the extra cash to redecorate a little."
He rolled his eyes. "And when you say redecorate what you really mean is . . ." He gave her a look that challenged her to finish his sentence. Instead, she put both hands on the desk and smiled wider than he had thought was humanly possible.
"What if you had a space that was just your own? Somewhere that wasn't used for clients or analyzing data, where you could read, or take a nap if you wanted? We could put a door in the wall that leads to a study. Your personal study."
He leaned back and thought about it for a while, finally taking time to notice the exquisite navy blue dress that Foster was wearing. His eyes darted back to his desk when he caught a glimpse of her wedding ring. It would be nice to take a nap in the office from time to time. He could use one right now, come to think of it. And he did need a place for all of his books, now that he'd moved into an apartment.
"I wouldn't object."
Somehow, her smile grew brighter. "Good. I'll make a few phone calls, and you'll be hiding away in there before you know it." She nodded, as if to congratulate herself on a victory, and turned to leave. He tried to keep the words from spilling out of his mouth, but then . . .
"Foster?"
"Yes?"
She stopped dead in her tracks and waited patiently. He licked his lips and swallowed.
"Do you get one?"
"Get one what?"
"Do you get a study?"
She seemed perplexed by the question, though he was sure that he had put it plainly. It wasn't until he saw a fleeting expression that he understood the endgame.
"Oh."
"Yes, Cal?"
"This is a divorce present."
"What? No!" She shook her head at him. "That makes it sound like I'm happy about this. I'm not happy. I'm devastated that things didn't work out for you. It's just that I don't really need one."
"Because you've got Alec to come home to, is that it?"
He was frustrating her now, and he had to admit, he enjoyed it. Maybe he could have some company on that island of his.
Foster's head bowed slightly, and the compassion on her face was unmistakeable. "Cal, I—I can't handle much more of this. You think I don't see it, but I do. I see the way you drag yourself in here every day, wearing that same shirt and that hopeless expression. I wanted to do something nice for you, that's all. I want to help you through this any way that I can."
"I thought a shrink like you would try to help me by getting me to lie on a couch and talk about my childhood."
She shrugged. "We can do that, if you like. There will be a couch in your study, and you know that my door is always open."
He flashed her a face to show how disgusted he was with the idea. "They're my problems, Foster, not yours. You don't want me sobbin' on your shoulder, do you? Divorces aren't exactly fun for the whole family."
"You think that I don't know that? You wouldn't be the first person I've helped through a traumatic experience. I want to help you, any way you'll let me. And if you won't come and talk to me, then at least I can give you a place where you can relax a little."
It was the split second of hurt in her eyes that got him. He hadn't noticed it before—how could he have missed it? She wasn't frustrated because he was putting a burden on her shoulders, oh no. She was frustrated because he wasn't letting her bear more of the weight.
He felt the guilt start in his stomach and seep into the rest of his body as she once more started to leave. These past few months had left him broken, like a loser, and he'd given up on himself. How could she possibly have so much faith in him? How could she offer so much warmth when all he'd been giving in return was ice?
"Foster?"
She smiled this time, as if she wasn't sure if he was ever going to let her out the door.
"Yes, Cal?"
"Thanks. For the study, I mean. It'll be nice."
She nodded graciously and left him still sitting in his desk, his mind darting between the hole in the wall, the similar puncture in his heart and the only woman who seemed to notice it. The only woman, perhaps, who was capable of filling it.
That was, quite possibly, the kind of present only Foster could give.
THE END