Disclaimer: I own nothing involved with the television series "Lie to Me" and I won't pretend to.
Author's Note: I just realized that typing my disclaimer is now a muscle memory... It kind of made me giggle. Anyway, thanks for the feedback, it's nice to hear peoples thoughts on this new story. I'm not quite sure how long it will be, but I suspect it won't be very lengthy... We'll see. Um...enjoy and remember to review! :D
2. Scuffles and Scrapes
"Quit scrambling around; you'll use up some of our precious oxygen." Eli muttered, still slumped in the office chair and searching through the security footage to pass the time. Even if it was work, he'd rather have something to distract him from the fact that he could very possibly die in the next fourteen hours. A few hours had already sped by and Lightman was continuing to look around for some way of escape. He huffed in frustration and Eli shot him an angry look.
"What did I just say about using up oxygen?" Eli grumbled, the stress affecting his normally cool demeanor.
"It doesn't matter if where going to die sooner or later, does it?" Cal spat. "At least I'm being useful and trying to find a way out of this rubbish."
"I should hope so; you sort of got us here in the first place. I'm tellin' ya: we did this to ourselves. There were hints everywhere to turn back. All that was missing was a frickin' huge, red, blinking sign that read 'danger.'" Eli said bitterly. "They even took our cell phones.... Besides, I am being useful. Should we ever get out, I'll have copies of all the security footage for the day of the robbery."
"If you just sit there, we might never get out." Cal growled.
"If you keeping breathing like you ran a marathon, we'll die before Dr. Foster and Torres find us. We are obviously not going to be able to get out ourselves and, therefore, have to rely on our lovely female colleagues." Eli sighed. "So, I'm just going to look at this and analyze it while I still have enough oxygen for my brain."
"Not that there's much of one..." Cal muttered. Eli narrowed his eyes, but returned to his self-appointed chore.
"We never thought to interrogate the security guards, huh?" Eli said quietly as he watched the four men pulling off the robbery on the screen. "Why do we always assume the guards are the people to trust? I mean, Torres used to be part of the security team at the airport, and I really can't trust her." Cal leaned against the wall and slid down it with a defeated countenance.
"If I have to endure spending another hour with you, I will strangle you much sooner." Cal threatened.
"You're right; talking uses up oxygen too..." Eli mumbled, his eyes glazing over with thought.
"You know, Torres, it's been plenty long enough." Gillian sighed, pacing in the analysis room. "Usually security just sends us the footage...but, since they refused to send it, Cal and Loker had to go. At the most, wouldn't Loker just copy the footage onto something and bring it back?"
"I guess so..." Ria muttered, twirling in Eli's swivel chair as she had seen him do hundreds of time. It was strange how he wasn't here and she was already conforming into his habits. I guess somebody around the workplace had to be an Eli Loker, or it just wasn't the same. At least, it wasn't for Ria.
"Let me call the gallery and see if they're still there." Gillian mumbled, glancing at a piece of paper with the number and dialing it into her phone.
"Hi, is there a Dr. Lightman at the gallery?" she asked as soon as someone had picked up. Ria waited in silence, hoping to catch the reply of the other person.
"Oh, alright, thank you." Gillian croaked, the color slightly drained out of her face. Slowly, she ended the call, looking at Ria with a concerned expression.
"So...?" Ria inquired, waiting impatiently for the verdict.
"They told me both of them left an hour ago to get back to The Lightman Group." Gillian answered quietly.
"Well, maybe they went to get something to eat. I'm sure they're pretty hungry."
"No, no, Cal would've called me back if he saw he missed my call." Gillian told her, somewhat panicky. "Something must've happened to them."
"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe neither of them have checked their phones yet?" Ria grumbled, not willing to except the possibility of danger in her coworkers lives. "They're grown men, Foster. Even if Eli is a bit...wimpy, Dr. Lightman won't give up without a fight."
"Hey, Eli is plenty brave! Remember when that psycho ended up holding Cal hostage? Who thought up the plan?" Gillian argued, her emotions strained with the situation.
"Alright, alright...but that's not the point. I'm pretty sure that neither of them are dying in a ditch somewhere." Ria sighed. "I'm going home: it's already six-thirty." Torres stood from her seat and prepared to leave, but Foster did nothing to stop her.
"Yeah, maybe a good night's rest will help ease my mind. I'm sure they'll be here in the morning." Gillian assured herself, stopping amid her pacing. "I'll just need some ginger tea and some sleep..."
"Do you think Torres and Foster are looking for us yet?" Eli grumbled, having finished his viewing of the security tapes. He stared at his watch.
"Probably." Cal muttered, looking tired as he sat against the wall. "Foster would suspect something if I didn't call after awhile."
"Hm. Torres would just think I got sidetracked." Eli mumbled, still looking at his watch.
"How much more time do we have?" Cal asked.
"It's wearing down to about eleven hours..." Eli croaked, finally letting his watch drop. "It's nearly eight-thirty." Silence. "Are you sure they didn't forget about us?"
"Pretty damn sure, Loker."
Cal was getting irritated with Eli's childlike behavior, being similar to that of "are we there yet?" Then again, he couldn't blame Loker's nervous habit of rambling in such a situation as this. They only had eleven hours after all, six having flown by in an intimidating quick speed for them. If every six hours were to go by as rapidly, they would be gasping for air and blacking out before they knew what was going on.
"I hope they don't decide to look for us in the morning..." Loker nearly whispered.
"What? Why not?" Lightman queried.
"We'll be dead around seven-thirty in the morning..." Eli responded, heaving a heavy sigh.
"Oi, don't breathe so much; you're using oxygen." Cal mocked, giving his employee a taste of his own annoying medicine. "We're not going to die."
"Right, sorry. I shouldn't be such a Debbie Downer...Or I guess it would really be more of a Donnie Downer, seeing as I'm a guy and all—"
"Don't you ever have anything meaningful to say? You keep muttering rubbish." Cal scolded, his shortened nerves beginning to give way.
"Meaningful? What the heck is that supposed to mean?" Eli said, pulling himself straight in his seat. "Like...touchy-feely, 'how does that make you feel?' sort of stuff?"
"I don't care, as long as it doesn't include the words 'death' and 'hours,' got it?" Cal growled.
"I can't help that I can't stop thinking about how long I have to live. I could be saying so many epic things to people right now for my last hours! But, well...I didn't think up anything for you." Eli confessed. He swiveled in the chair, resorting back to his habits while his thoughts were engaged elsewhere.
"I've got a bit o' a thought for you." Cal said. Eli stopped spinning, pausing in front of his boss to listen better. "I wish you were a mute so I wouldn't have to listen to you rattle on uselessly. Plus, it would save me a world of trouble if you were to shut up for good."
"Don't you ever quit putting everyone else down?" Eli demanded, bristling with anger.
"Why should I? I can't let my employees get full of themselves." Cal replied, clenching his fists as Eli did the same.
"Well, maybe one of these days The Lightman Group employees will go on strike. Then again, you might just start insulting complete strangers for a kick."
"Ha! You think you're so high and mighty, do you? If you don't remember, I'm your boss!"
"Argh!"
Both men sprung from their places, tackling each other. Eli finally overpowered his boss and knocked him to the ground with a smug smile.
"How do you like that? Not so tough now, huh?" Eli taunted. Cal plunged from his position on the ground, wrapping his arms around Eli's legs and sending the taller man toppling to the floor. Punches flew from both parties and in seconds the two of them were rolling on the floor, fighting to obtain victory. There were a series of painful yelps and grunts as they continued, not caring that they were coworkers, or about to suffocate in a matter of maybe eleven hours.
With a swift punch from Cal to Eli's face, which cracked the young man's neck in a way he was sure put it out for a good month, Eli finally attempted to catch his boss's hits and stop the fighting.
"Wait, wait, wait!" he huffed, pausing to pinch his bloody nose. Cal stopped, breathing heavily and awaiting the green light to starting pummeling his researcher again. Cal had the upper hand at this point, and Eli was lying on the ground with his chest rising rapidly from the small burst of action. "This situation is making us crazy. We should not be beating each other up; this is ridiculous. I think the stress is getting to our heads." Cal contemplated the matter, though he did not retreat from his prized position in case Eli was trying to trick him.
"Maybe you're right, Loker. But I've been holding this feeling back for the past six hours and if we're going to die anyway, I might as well get this out of the way, right?" he explained, narrowing his eyes.
"You can have this victory! Just stop punching me to the point of snapping my neck! Geez, this hurts!" Eli exclaimed, rubbing his neck with one hand and pinching his nose with the other. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was truly a pathetic vision. Cal couldn't bring himself to keep thrashing the poor bloke; it was hardly a fair match.
"I prefer more for the battle of wit, which doesn't involve pain and bloody noses." Eli commented as Cal helped him sit up, then went in search of a tissue.
"You asked for it, idiot." Cal grumbled.
"You're right, I did." Loker confessed. "It wasn't very smart of me. Wow, you really got me, huh?" Cal couldn't keep from smiling at Eli's altered voice, due to his gripping onto his bloody nose.
"I tend to do that. Here, take this." Cal offered, handing the young man a tissue. Eli quickly put it to use, then laid his head on the computer desk.
"You don't happen to know any chiropractic techniques to snap my neck back in place, do you? That last punch got me goooood." Eli admitted, continuing to rub the nape of his neck.
"Can't say I have." Cal replied, returning to his seat against the wall. "But that was almost therapeutic. I think we should do that again sometime."
"Wait until I've at least won a few bar fights or somethin'." Eli muttered. "We both know I'm not much of a fighter."
"It's not my fault you're just sittin' here, is it?" Cal pointed out defensively.
"Exactly. That totally proves my point. I'm lazy, not athletic!"
As insanely irritating Eli could be sometimes, he was also admiringly prone to keeping, or recovering, a cool head. If it had been anybody else in here, both men would've kept throwing punches until one was unconscious...or maybe even dead.
"Heh heh...If Foster only saw us now..." Eli chuckled, closing his eyes.
"Don't remind me; she'd probably be so ashamed she even worked with us idiots." Cal laughed in reply, touching a tender hand to the bruises that was developing around his eye. Sure, Eli had lost to him in the battle, but Loker was still a decent fist fighter.
"I am so tired..." Eli muttered, his breathing becoming long and slow.
"Yeah, I'm about to doze off myself..." Cal mumbled, his eyes drooping closed.
It had been a tedious afternoon, and a tougher morning was ahead of them.
Author's Note: Hm. I hope you liked that. It was more of a filler chapter...sorry. But, please review!
