Thanks to McBreezy for coming up with this fic challenge! Without it I'd never have thought to try and get into Loker's head.


Chapter One

My name is Eli Loker and I'm the resident gopher at the Lightman Group.

Okay, so the resume says lead research assistant. Truth is I do that and everything else that Doctor Cal Lightman wants me to. I'm basically at his beck and call.

Not that he appreciates it or anything. In fact, he usually goes the extra step of letting me know that the option of firing me is always at the tip of his tongue. Some days I think he's salivating at the thought of me giving him a good reason.

Did I mention that I don't get paid?

Mind you, I do accept the blame for that part, even though I still don't regret the decision that caused Lightman to give me the option of leaving the company or continuing on as an unpaid intern.

Most days, I have no idea why he picks on me the way he does, but in some twisted way the more he does, the more I'm determined to stick it out. The more I try to do whatever it takes to finally make him realize that I count for something.

Why?

Because Cal Lightman is the best at what he does. Because nothing fascinates me more than human behaviour and no one can read it better than he does. I'm in awe of his skills, like a kid in awe of his favourite ballplayer, wishing he could one day hit a grand slam like that.

Ria Torres thinks I worship him. Sad thing is, she's probably right. How else could you explain why I'm still here? Sometimes I can't explain it myself.

It's never even occurred to me to stand up to him.

That is, until the day I was almost killed by a bomb meant for him.


It all happens so fast. The blast. The debris that hits me and brings the metallic taste of blood to my lips. The screams of the people that surround me. The smell of burning gasoline.

Too many of my senses are hit all at once and I don't know what to do or where to go. I walk around the scene in a trance until Ria spots me near the main door of the Lightman Group office and pulls me inside as she calls for help.

In spite of everything, there's something about being back inside that building that feels almost like home.

My ears are still ringing from the blast and it's only when I'm inside the darkened office hallway that I start feeling the sting of the debris that hit me. There's blood all over my face and I'm not sure where it's coming from or even whether it's mine.

"There was a man in the car...and he's dead..." I feel the need to explain. Apparently, it doesn't matter if I can't tell my right hand from my left. I'm a scientist, so facts first. It's ingrained in me.

"He's in shock," someone says. A female voice. Foster maybe. Lightman is there too but he doesn't say anything.

Foster's hand is on my back and I can feel her leading me into the break room and giving me a nudge into a chair. Torres brings in a first-aid kit and Foster starts fixing up my face. Ordering me to drink some water. She does it gently, but calmly and methodically, saying almost nothing in the process. She's a scientist too, after all.

I catch Lightman standing in the doorway, fretting over getting a hold of Emily who was supposed to meet him here just before the bomb went off. From the corner of my eye I see Anna bringing him a package.

Funny, I'm the one sitting here with a face full of blood and he still hasn't said so much as a word to me.

My anger helps me get over my shock.

There's still no electricity in the building, but someone's put a battery powered radio on the table, next to the first aid kit, and turned it on to the news. According to them the identity of the dead man is still unknown.

Lightman paces and reiterates that finding Emily is the most important thing right now. I must've missed the look he flashed Foster as he said it, but not Torres. She catches everything and doesn't hesitate to let you know it.

"You know something about this bomb!" she tells him.

Torres must've been right because Foster stops what she's doing and follows Lightman out of the room.

The two of them are so good at what they do and know each other so well, they can convey an entire message with one look. Sometimes I wish I could do the same and other times I think it must be more of a curse than a gift.

But even more so, their wordless way of communicating is a reminder that when it comes down to it, the Lightman Group consists of the two of them and the rest of us.

Torres might see everything but it doesn't mean they'll tell her everything and I take some consolation in that fact.

"They know," Torres repeats to me, incredulously after they leave. "They know about this bomb."

I hear a door shut in the distance as the smell of blood mixes with that of antiseptic cream in my nostrils. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," she replies with a touch of indignation. As if I should doubt the natural wunderkind.

The certainty of her answer makes my blood boil, just as my head starts to throb. I can't remember the last time I was this angry. "So they know...and even though it almost killed me they don't think I deserve to know too? That is such bullshit, Ria."

I get up from the chair and march towards Lightman's office.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Torres demands, coming along, after me.

"Getting answers," I mumble.

"Wait!" She tugs at my shirt. "You think barging into his office will make him tell you? This is Lightman we're talking about."

For once I don't give a damn.

Normally, thanks to a steady mix of fear and respect, I'd be the last person to barge into Lightman's office.

But not this time. Almost dying makes you weirdly fearless.

The electricity comes back on just before I open the door.

Lightman and Foster are in the middle of a conversation and that too makes me angry. Knowing that they're calmly discussing the bomb that almost killed me.

"You can't just sit in here and talk about..."

There's more I want to say, but Torres gives me a look and a push that tells me I'm treading on thin ice.

Bleeding or not, neither Foster or Lightman react to my presence. Typical.

I turn on the TV and switch it to the news, while they continue their conversation as if I'm not even in the room.

Lightman asks Torres whether they've gotten a hold of Emily.

I glare at him and finally he acknowledges my presence.

"I can't just what, Loker?" he grumbles, more annoyed than anything else.

I tell him he can't just walk away from me when anyone with half a brain knows that they both know about the bomb that almost killed me.

I can't remember ever confronting him like this, but it feels good.

Lightman doesn't answer me, his attention is now on the TV now as they announce the name of the man who died in the blast outside our office. Henry Andrews. A British-born, fossil-fuel entrepreneur.

Meanwhile, Torres catches something on Foster's face that I completely miss. "You do know that man," she points out but Foster stays mum.

"Okay, Lightman," Torres says softly. "We know you know the victim, what else do you know?"

Her insistence seems to hold more weight than mine, because this time he answers. Lightman explains that Andrews was killed by an Irish terrorist by the name of Jimmy Doyle.

How he knows that, I have no idea.

He also informs us that Andrews isn't a fossil-fuel entrepreneur, like they said on the news, but a British liaison for counter-terrorism at the Pentagon.

"Seven years ago he was my boss," Lightman adds.

Torres seems more interested in reading Foster, who still hasn't said more than two words to either of us. "Okay, who was he to you, Foster? Did you work at the Pentagon too?" she asks her.

Silence.

Not that it matters to Torres.

"Oh my god...you did."

It's then that Emily comes running into the office and Lightman scoops her up into a hug.

I don't begrudge him his reunion, but it doesn't lessen my need for answers.

"What's going on?" Emily asks.

"That's what we all wanna know," I remind him.

At this point, Lightman finally offers me a half-assed apology. Says he's sorry for what I went through this morning, but that right now he needs a moment with his daughter. After that he'll let us know how he's going to use us on this.

"That's how it works," he tells me. "So, end of conversation."

If I thought I was livid a few minutes ago, I was wrong. Now is when I'm ready to punch things.

"That was a conversation?" I'm dumbstruck by the way he's blown me off.

"Hey..." Torres, who catches everything, senses that I'm about to give Lightman a whole other piece of my mind.

She pushes me out the door before I get a chance say what I really want to.