Title: The Lies We Tell (3/?)
Pairing: gen, possible C/G
Rating: K
Category: Suspense/Drama, dash of angst
Disclaimer: The LtM characters are not mine, DEK owns Bobby.
Summary: When Zoe brings a new case and a new partner to the Lightman Group, long-buried truths will be revealed as they work to defend an innocent man, while a side investigation may place one partner in mortal peril.
A/N: Thanks for the feedback everyone! No beta, all mistakes are mine
.::.::.
"You know, they didn't have to disclose any information to us," Cal said quietly from his position next to Foster. They were sitting on the stairs leading up to the roof, holding hot toddies and watching their breath turn to vapor. The city glowed all around, not allowing for any stars in the darkened sky.
"I know. I just wanted them to leave and that was a good excuse. I'll have you know I wrapped up the Grant case and finished the payroll," she stated with obvious satisfaction. Her mood was certainly much improved over what it had been earlier in the day. "We're lucky we don't pay ourselves overtime. The company wouldn't be able to afford us."
"Hmmm," Cal hummed with a small grin. She nudged him in the shoulder with her own, causing him to turn to her slightly. Her eyes were sparkling from the cold air, her cheeks red from the breeze, and the warmed alcohol made her smile wider than usual. She literally stole the air from his chest, making it pinch in an oddly comforting way. It seemed to be happening more often lately, making him wonder if he should see the cardiologist.
Breaking eye contact, he looked back into his mug and took a bountiful sip, savoring the warm tingle down his throat. Taking a breath, he fixed his gaze outward, not wanting to see her reaction when he brought about a most unpleasant turn of events.
"I took the case," he said suddenly, feeling her stiffen beside him as she processed his words. "I actually agree with that idiot; about there being a possibility that their client is innocent. Just want a chat with the client next Monday to see what's what."
Foster didn't speak for an alarming amount of time and he bit his lip, waiting for the inevitable fallout. He knew the longer she took to respond, the more she was censoring herself because she rarely lashed out irrationally. Though, if there was a time to be irrational, this was it.
"What do you want to know?" her voice held none of its joviality from a few moments ago.
"What?"
"You had to have taken this case for a reason, Cal," he could feel her watching his face as she spoke. "You don't need the excuse of a case in order for Zoe to sleep with you; it was pretty obvious she'd have done it anyway. You didn't take it because of the case itself, because even you have standards. So that only leaves one option, and that is the actual lawyer trying the case — Bobby Donnell. You don't want him working with Zoe, you want to know why I dislike him so much, and you definitely want to see how this could all play out."
Cal remained silent for a moment then sputtered, "I think I just took offense to your entire argument."
"Why? It's all true!" she stood at this point, pouring the remnants of her drink over the edge. He frowned, knowing in the back of mind that she was right.
"I'm willing to give you one of the many things you want at the moment," said Gillian as she turned to face him, her arms crossed. "Just… please. Drop the case."
Cal watched the tight pull of her lips, the tug of her eyelid, the stubborn set of her brow. She was angry and afraid… and wary. Even worse, she wasn't even trying to hide from him; instead, she opened herself up completely. The whole situation begged for him to explore it, to get to the truth. And the truth was one thing he could never refuse.
"I already know why you dislike Donnell, that was pretty obvious from early on," Cal shot back, turning a bit so it would be harder for her to pass him on the steps. Gillian remained quiet, safely assuming that he would never be able to hold back a chance to relay what he knew.
"Even though you never mention your family, you're fiercely loyal. Always have been. Regardless of who's at fault for the dissolution of their marriage, you've decided to side with your cousin and place the blame on Donnell. The fear and anger were coming off you in waves earlier. Didn't take a scientist to figure that one out."
Cal watched her as he spoke, but the poor lighting did little in the way of reading her reaction. Though he could see the tension in her posture and readied himself for a rebuttal. Instead, she turned and faced him squarely, back pressed against the railing as she propped up her arms. She had a faintly familiar smile on her face, but he couldn't place it. All he knew was that it was dangerous.
"Yeah, that's exactly why," she replied sardonically. "Right again, Doctor Lightman."
By the scornful tone of her voice, Cal realized that he was sorely mistaken. Frowning, he stood and took a step closer to Gillian, but found her to be overwhelmingly impassive — such a contrast from a moment ago. She broke eye contact with him and looked to the side, her bottom lip quirking downward.
"Be safe getting home," she said quietly, brushing past him as she took the stairs inside.
Cal remained on the rooftop a little while longer, cursing his arrogance. She'd given him the widest opening imaginable, and he'd blown it. He'd be lucky if she ever told him now.
.::.
The next couple days slowed down a bit, at least to the point where everyone could leave at a decent time. On Tuesday Zoe dropped off a file on their client as well as the remaining discs, agreeing to meet him for dinner later. After closing his only open case, Cal shut himself up in his office and brushed up on his French, among other things. He also took the reprieve as an opportunity to make amends with Foster, trying to stay out of her way. This method was typically the best way to proceed, if only because he doubted he could watch her angry strut much longer. Though mesmerizing, the sharp tack of her heels on the floor drove invisible nails inside his skull.
Gillian seemed to pick up on what he was doing and kept her distance as well, letting her anger simmer. One thing he loved about her was that Foster wasn't one for holding grudges. By Friday evening, he'd carefully pestered her into grabbing some take away and finishing up paperwork at his house. Emily would be present, of course, which lowered the potential considerably for Bad Things To Happen.
"How do we have so much food?" Cal asked as he surveyed his kitchen table. It was nearly covered in white styrofoam boxes and there wasn't a shred of paperwork to be found.
"You wanted Thai, I wanted Indian, and Emily wanted Italian," Gillian replied sensibly. "Speaking of, where is Emily?"
"She was at a basketball game, said she'd be home in about ten minutes." Cal poured them some wine while Gillian set the table.
"Word on the street is that there's a kid at her rival school who's getting scouted by at least twenty different division one schools."
"Word on the street?" Cal asked as he handed her the glass of wine and took his seat. "And who'd you hear that from? Your bookie or your inside source?"
Gillian rolled her eyes at Cal and merely shrugged, sipping her wine demurely.
"Wait. Do you have a bookie?"
Gillian merely laughed and started scooping out basmati rice onto her plate. "Just to ease your wild imagination, no, I don't have a bookie. I ran into an old friend at a Georgetown game last weekend and her husband is a history teacher at the kid's school."
"When do you find time to go to basketball games?"
Gillian shrugged. "It was spur of the moment and I really needed to shut off my mind for a little bit."
"Understandable," Cal nodded at her words, knowing exactly what she meant. "When you mentioned the payroll the other day, it got me wonderin'… how much time a week do you and I put in? Over I mean?"
"Combined, I'd say 40-50 hours."
"What about separate?"
'That's harder to determine. Lot's of factors are involved," Gillian replied as she speared a piece of chicken with her fork. "It depends on whether or not you have Emily during the week, if one of us is dating someone, if you're doing something… dangerous, the level of priority of a case, and manpower involved."
"Think about this a lot do you?" Cal smirked at her as she stole some shrimp off his plate. He retaliated by snagging some of her naan and stuffing the whole piece in his mouth, much to her chagrin.
"I hope you don't choke on that," she stated as she shook her head at his childishness.
He said something unintelligible and she sighed in response, propping her head up with her fist. She gave him a soft smile when she was sure he could talk again, and then turned her attention back to her food. Though Gillian wasn't cross with him anymore, she was still wary around Cal. He found that he didn't enjoy being on the receiving end of her doubt. He absently wondered if this was how her ex-husband felt the last few months of their marriage. Not only that, but he could tell something was bothering her, but from the way she acted, she seemed to be ignoring whatever it was. They ate in silence for a couple minutes, Cal's mind wandering as he pilfered one of Emily's meatballs.
"Foster?"
"Hmmm?"
"Why do you like basketball so much?" Cal asked casually, but was watching her closely. The carefree expression on her face suddenly dissipated, replaced with a tightness he didn't like. She looked down in her lap and sighed, a giveaway that she didn't want him reading her. Before she could respond, they heard the front door slam and in walked Emily. Her hair was sprayed half white and half blue, her lips painted an awful shade of royal blue that matched her striped shirt, and every exposed body part shone from the copious amounts of glitter with which she'd been sprinkled.
"What in God's name happened to you?" asked Cal.
"Spirit Day," Emily and Gillian said at the same time.
"Jinx!" They said together.
"You owe me a coke!" They said again.
"Knock it off," Cal interrupted as the pair giggled. It was beyond Cal how a woman like Gillian could giggle so effortlessly with a teenager. Emily took her seat across from Gillian and managed to extract her meal relatively unscathed.
"Who won?" Gillian asked as she closed up her own box of leftovers.
"Our opponents. So much for spirit. At one point, our cheerleaders gave up all pretense and started cheering for the other team."
"Ouch," Gillian grimaced. "How was Miller? Last game he had over ten three pointers."
"Oi, stop it with all that basketball rubbish," Cal interjected. He once made the mistake of riding in a car with Foster and Reynolds to a meeting. It was non-stop basketball talk the entire time. He wanted to exit the vehicle and let it roll over him by the end of the journey. "How's your mum?"
"Fine," Emily replied as she twirled her angel hair pasta around her fork. "She's been up late every night this week working on some case. Did you meet her new partner yet?"
Cal watched as Emily directed the last part of the question to Gillian who merely nodded and took a sip of her wine.
"What was that?" Cal asked as he looked between his daughter and his partner.
"Nothing," Emily replied innocently. Too innocently. "It's just… Bobby is a very… attractive man."
Cal glanced back at Gillian who was biting the side of her cheek, trying hard not to smile at Emily.
"Wha? Ugh… But —" Cal was at a loss.
"Start with one word, then build on that," Gillian stated smartly which earned her a look of irritation from Cal.
"He's old enough to be your father!"
For being unrelated, it was remarkable that both Gillian and Emily gave him the same exact expression at the same time — an eye roll coupled with an exasperated head tilt to the right. Maybe it was woman code. That should be the title of his next book.
"Dad! All I'm saying is that he's good looking, chill out," she rose from the table and headed to the fridge to scavenge for a soda. "Although… I didn't notice a wedding ring, so he is single."
Emily plopped in her seat and looked pointedly at Gillian. Cal took another piece of Gillian's naan, chewing ferociously as he tried to figure out how to silence his daughter for eternity without leaving a trace of evidence.
"This is awkward," Gillian started quietly as she glanced at Cal who was giving her no help whatsoever, completely absorbed by his daughter's antics. "Do you know where Bobby used to work?"
"Yeah, Boston. He used to have his own practice, then he built it up over a few years and it expanded to… I can't remember all the names. Something like," Emily raised her hand in the air, forming the names in an invisible arc, "Donnell, Young, Dole and Frutt."
"Wow, you remember all that," Gillian replied, a nervous edge in her voice. "My uh, my cousin, she was the Dole. She and Bobby used to be married and had a son together."
"Oh," Emily's face flushed, clearly feeling ten types of embarrassed. Then she picked up on one phrase and forged ahead in true Lightman fashion. "Used to? So they aren't married anymore?"
Gillian glanced in her lap then up at Emily, shaking her head. "No, not anymore."
Cal could tell Emily was aching to know what went wrong, as was he, but Gillian remained stubbornly silent. Finally, Cal decided that he should intervene.
"Lovely," he stated as he slapped his hands together and stood. "I bet Foster would love to bore you with tales of someone else's marriage, but we've both got work to do, and I'm pretty sure your mum wanted you to call her when you got home tonight… So, off with ya."
Cal reached over and grabbed her plate as she was impaling a meatball with her fork. Emily scowled indignantly, "Hey! I'm not even done yet! At least give me the garlic bread."
"My pleasure," he tossed her the slices as he boxed up the rest. "It ensures that you won't be sneaking out later."
"What?"
"I think what your father is implying is that garlic breath isn't too pleasing," said Gillian as she rose and handed Cal the rest of the take-away boxes.
"Hmph," Emily replied as she took a rather large bite of her bread, making a show of chewing it for the two adults.
"At least she chews her bread," Gillian murmured. Cal shot her an irritated look and pulled out his brief case, dropping it loudly on his chair. Emily grabbed her soda and her purse, waving goodbye to Gillian as she took her leave.
"All right then, let's get to work," Cal stated as he pulled out three thick manila folders. He could feel Gillian watching him from her position against the counter and wondered if she was going to share her thoughts.
"What do you already know? About Bobby and Lindsay?"
Cal glanced up at Gillian as she slid into her seat and crossed her legs. Her face was blank, not on purpose, but because she was simply curious.
"From the whisperings of Loker 'n Torres, I gather that your cousin was a smarty pants, just like you, went to some awful law school, Harvard something or other. She was a hot-shot attorney, then won some questionable cases on technicalities and some bad guys went free," Cal took a sip of his wine and watched her tense slightly. Ah, so he was getting to the good part.
"Donnell's firm associated with some… unsavory characters and several of them took a liking to her. She was stabbed by a client, right? And that was before she and Donnell got married. So she already had one strike against her. Then Donnell had a client in particular that intended to do her harm, but she shot and killed him, if I recall correctly," Cal glanced at Gillian, who's gaze was fixed on the wine in his glass. She seemed to be running through the events in her head.
"I bet she went a little nutty after that, but ended up dodging jail because of some other technicality. She split from the firm, and shortly afterward she and Donnell split up as well. Then Donnell lost it somewhere along the way and left his own firm with the other partners... Anything else to add, or can we get on with work?"
By the end, Gillian propped her elbows on the table and clasped her hands together. It was her version of calm defense. Once she crossed her arms, he'd have to back peddle rapidly. Cal learned early on in their working relationship that Gillian Foster was similar to an oyster. Not a clam, but the type of mollusk that held on to few treasures and when she felt tampered with, she would shut up tight regardless of his attempts to assuage her fears.
Was Cal helplessly intrigued by Gillian's past? Without a doubt. Did he wonder how one cousin became this target for misfortune, while the other led a comparatively calm existence? Of course. But was it within his bounds as a friend and work partner to invade her personal life in such a fashion? Doubtful, but he'd do his best to change that.
Gillian deliberated for a moment, then shrugged, seeming to accept his summary of the more scandalous life of her cousin. There was something else there, something he'd missed in his account, but she wasn't going to correct him. For the most part, he knew she'd just wanted to clear the air and gauge how much he knew. Feigned nonchalance was the best approach at this point.
"You're okay with all this?" she asked. "Bobby working with Zoe?"
"I had a… discussion with Zoe the other night," Cal ignored Gillian's eye roll at his use of discussion, "and she firmly reminded me that I have no say over whom she chooses to work with, just as she has no say over my colleagues."
"Do you think this is payback?" Gillian asked as she ran her finger along the brim of the glass. "It's no secret that she's never approved of our working relationship."
"Her insecurity has no bearing on how I carry out my business." They both knew that it really did, because Zoe's insecurity nearly broke up their business, years ago.
"What about your insecurity?" Gillian asked softly, her eyes flickering up to his. "You must also know that Bobby has a… reputation."
Cal fought hard not to look away, to assure her that he was not in any way worried, despite the fact that he truly was. The subtle lift of her eyebrow told him that he didn't fool her, so he shrugged and took large gulp of his wine.
"Then I can only hope that they can remain as professional as we have over the years and to keep business strictly that."
Shaking her head, Gillian gave him a bemused grin, knowing full and well that he had no faith whatsoever in Zoe and Bobby remaining professional. Not only that, but Cal and Gillian's relationship had rarely, if ever, been conventional. Half the time, he hardly knew where he stood with Gillian, and that was on a good day.
Cal felt the poke of Gillian's pen in his forearm and he glanced over at her wryly, "must you always poke me?"
"If that's what it takes to get your attention," she replied. "C'mon, I want to get this over with."
"And then what?" Cal asked as he pulled a file from the stack.
"One thing at a time, Cal," she whispered as she pulled out her laptop. "One thing at a time."
.::.::.
A/N: Not a lot happened in this chap, just necessary exposition, but the next is a bit more cumbersome. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it.