Title: Smile (4/4.5)

Rating: K for theme

Pairing: none, Cal, Gillian, Loker

Spoilers: A few vague ones for the back nine, based on previews, sort of includes Sweet Sixteen though 99% of this was written before SS aired.

Summary: "Smile when you're feeling sorrow, my dear. No one looks twice and you don't have to explain yourself." A slightly angsty look into the psyche of Gillian Foster. Cal/Gil friendship.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lie to me or it's characters. Smile is based off the song Smile, originally sung by the fabulous Nat King Cole.

A/N: No beta, all mistakes are mine. So… this chapter is huge. HUGE. I had to break it in two. It is huge because Foster is complex and I feel that it would take a lot to accomplish what I'm trying to do. ANGST AHOY! Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

.::.::.::. In which Gillian finally meets her threshold.::.::.::.

Puzzles. Gillian loved puzzles. She preferred figurative over literal, but she loved them. She believed that humans were walking puzzles that lived in a state of flux — that their behavior was an outward manifestation of a piece to their metaphorical puzzle.

Her current case was a puzzle. Cal had passed it off to her two days ago on his way to the Capitol, claiming that he'd been given the rundown. He couldn't take it because a bigger case came up, but it could be worth her while. Of course, he neglected to mention the miles of red tape surrounding it.

Like the fact that twenty-year-old Brandon Lewis was currently in the ICU after getting caught in a local meth lab explosion. Like the fact that the D.C. metro police authorities already figured that he was the one at fault, even though he was unconscious and could neither deny nor admit to the crime. Like the fact that nothing was adding up and something bigger was definitely going on.

For the past two days, she and Loker had interviewed dozens of people and posited several theories as to what had really happened. Problem was, the evidence was pointing to Brandon being guilty. Still, she gave him the benefit of the doubt, because something didn't quite fit and she was bound and determined to figure it out.

"Brandon Lewis," Loker exposited for the benefit of the assistant du jour helping them with some legwork, "twenty year old from California, born into a wealthy family, left home when he was eighteen on a full-ride to Georgetown, apparently at the top of his class in college. On all accounts, he's a nice guy, keeps to himself."

"Then why was he caught near a meth lab on the sketchy side of town?" asked the brilliant assistant. Gillian cast him a sideways glance, wondering if his jeans were so tight that they were cutting off circulation to his head.

"That's your job to figure out," Gillian replied as she handed him a short stack of folders. "We need you to call up some of his family out west, we need to know what made him come out here."

"Got it, boss," he replied as he grabbed the folders and headed to the conference room to spread out.

Gillian shook her head as she turned back to Loker. "Well, at least we managed to get a little help on this case. What is Lightman working on that has everyone occupied?"

"Something about the BP fiasco," said Loker as he stretched quickly and took a seat. "Word on the street is, the Senate is out to roast some Brits and they called Lightman in to lead the cavalry."

"How did I not know this?" asked Gillian as she thumbed through the folders.

"Maybe because you've been working this case nonstop?" Loker replied sensibly. Just then, Gillian's phone buzzed, indicating she had a text message from Michael. Disregarding the twinge of shame, she ignored the message and continued her perusal of Brandon's file..

Gillian wasn't quite sure why, but there was something about this case that intrigued her, something that reminded her of her days at the Pentagon — when secrecy and mystery were the par for the course. She had that dull unnerving feeling that there was a cover-up going on, but she couldn't quite figure out the players involved or the reasons why. It was the kind of case Cal loved and something he'd have picked up on immediately. The way he'd so easily passed off the case only added to her curiosity.

Gillian and Loker resumed review of their footage for a couple hours until the assistant returned, mighty pleased with himself.

"Brandon's fam is loaded, but he didn't take a cent when he left for school. Spoke with his mom who hadn't heard from him since Christmas. She said that he'd always been a good kid, worked hard at school, tutored students, did community service. Your regular do-gooder kinda guy."

Gillian and Loker exchanged glances. Very similar to the story they got from his classmates at Georgetown.

"What about his family life?"

"He's the oldest kid, his dad's some big time real-estate guy in California. Apparently pops likes the homebrew a bit too much, his mom attributes his drinking to one of the main reasons Brandon left home."

"And the mother?" Gillian asked, her voice sounding hollow in her ears.

"The mom was helpful but she sounds like your typical benzo queen on botox. She's so hopped up on feel-good pills that I doubt the fact that her son being in the hospital even fazed her."

"So you told her that Brandon was in the ICU and she didn't care?"

"Eh, she seemed a little bothered, but not enough to cancel her hair appointment."

"Wow," Loker replied. "And I thought my parents sucked."

Gillian pushed down the sense of déjà vu that she got from hearing about Brandon's family and tried to focus on the bigger picture.

"Did you get in touch with the father?"

"Nah, his secretary said he was in a meeting. That's Californian for 'he's at the golf course'. But, I managed to get in touch with a high-school buddy of Brandon's who said that our guy was valedictorian in high school, got on well with everyone. Apparently right after graduation, Brandon's best friend, Emile Campor, got into some sort of trouble and disappeared off the face of the earth. Tore up Brandon pretty bad."

"What kind of trouble?"

"I'm assuming that since this was preppytown, it had less to do with gangs and more to do with drugs, but the friend couldn't say for sure. It was all really shady."

"Great work," Gillian replied, the first shred of hope she'd had since the case began. "Pull up any articles you can find that have to do with the disappearance of the best friend. And… keep trying with the dad. He knows something."

"How do you know?" asked Loker as he swiveled towards her.

"Powerful men don't stop being powerful just because you put an entire country between you," Gillian replied enigmatically.

.::.::.

It was the next day and Gillian was starting to feel the strain of being overworked and low on sleep. Brandon was still unconscious and they couldn't find any evidence of the best friend's whereabouts. Reynolds had randomly dug up a box of surveillance of the meth lab, but couldn't reveal how he'd come across it. Meanwhile the local authorities had pretty much closed the case despite the new evidence, claiming that Brandon was the perpetrator.

On top of everything else, Gillian started out the day on the wrong foot and it seemed to be going downhill from there. Her morning meeting with Cal only served to establish that he was aggravated with her for some unspoken reason, and that she was annoyed with him for hoarding all their manpower. At least she still had Loker.

"I'm starving," muttered Loker as he scrubbed his eyes with his palms. "Foooood?" It was nearly two and they'd been working on the surveillance and audiotapes since eight without a break. A meal was definitely in order.

"Sounds good to me," she replied. "Should we go somewhere or get take-out?"

Before Loker could respond, her cell phone chimed with a text message. It was Michael.

"Ouch, still giving your beau the cold shoulder?" asked Loker as he swiveled around in his chair carelessly. "The clench in your jaw is textbook. I almost want to take a picture."

Gillian shot him a glare. They'd been working together far too much lately. It was making her stir-crazy. A lot of things were as a matter of fact. Out of spite, Gillian returned the text— a request for lunch, then looked over at Loker.

"You're on your own for lunch. Be back by three so we can finish up," she said as she stood quickly, grabbing a couple files on her way out.

"Can't believe you shafted me," Loker called as she reached the door. "Better go easy on him!"

Gillian rolled her eyes as she left the lab. She needed to remind Loker about boundaries again.

She took a deep breath as she walked into the warm September sun, getting a blessed reprieve from that stupid case. The reprieve would be bittersweet, however, because lunch was not going to be satisfying in any way.

When she and Michael began this relationship, it was supposed to be easy and fun and enjoyable. And short. She'd spent the last two months waiting for him to break up with her. But it never came and she had never felt the desire to end it. Then she committed the cardinal sin of casual relationships: she started to develop… feelings. The onset was very insidious, nothing that shouted at her or gave a big red warning sign. Not until last week, at least.

They'd had a late dinner because she'd gotten off late and his software program kept having glitches and he was against a deadline. Instead of adhering to their status quo which involved dinner, a walk, sex, occasional pillow talk, and departure — they just… went to bed. And slept. It hadn't been awkward in the morning, nor did he say anything about it later the following night when they only had time to have dinner then part ways. It was then that she realized that she had a problem.

Gillian didn't just like Michael; she liked him. As in, she enjoyed his monologues that sounded like they were scripted by Grey's Anatomy writers, she liked the way he held her hand, how he would always drag her away from what she was doing to watch the sunset — so they could watch the day fade away. For someone who was so adamantly opposed to long-term relationships, he was doing a poor job of proving that to her.

When she realized with startling clarity that she wanted to know where their relationship was going, she knew she was in trouble. Michael had been expressly clear in saying he had no interest in the long term, and at the time, that was about all she could handle. But they've been dating for six months now; and he spent the night at her place at least two or three times a week. Based on her thorough knowledge of Chicklit, this relationship had far surpassed the fling stage and was entering 'unhealthy relationship' territory of repressed emotion and poor foundation. Great sex did not make a good basis for a relationship, no matter what her favorite authors thought. As much as she liked him, she didn't think she could put herself out there and be truly vulnerable for someone else. Not right now at least.

So, for the sake of all parties involved, she was going to make a pre-emptive strike and end it. Otherwise this was going to hurt a lot worse later and she wasn't sure she could handle that.

Entering their favorite deli, she saw Michael leaning against the wall as he waited. He was so cute standing there in his light green button-up, looking out over the Potomac river. Gillian bit back a frown, this wasn't going to be fun.

"Hey!" his face brightened as soon as he saw her, walking over and giving her a kiss before she followed him over to a table. "I took the liberty of ordering your usual, if that's okay. How's everything going?"

"Fine," she replied, feeling tense. "I've been stuck in a dark room for over five hours listening to video feed of a possible drug den. It's been delightful."

He smiled at her, but it didn't quite meet his eyes and she could tell something was on his mind. Their number was called and Michael stood to collect their lunch, giving her a second to breathe. It did not help.

"You've been avoiding me," Michael stated plainly as he took his seat and handed over her sandwich. Okay then, maybe he'd be the one to get this show on the road.

"Yes and no," she conceded. "I really have been busy at work, but I haven't tried to make any effort to get out of it either."

"Any reason why?"

Gillian hesitated. She was awful at breaking up with people. Awful.

"Let me guess, either you don't want to do this anymore or you want this more than you should… and it's starting to bother you?" Michael said as he leaned forward on his elbows, watching her closely when she shrugged. He never cocked his head to the side in contemplation, nor did he slouch. Michael had excellent posture, actually. She kept her eye contact but didn't speak, suddenly curious as to whether he could have this entire conversation without her even having to participate. "I'm going to go for the latter. You know why? I'm in the same boat."

Her eyebrows shot up briefly in surprise, but drifted downwards again in practiced nonchalance. Michael was smooth, smoother than she gave him credit for and she needed to be on guard.

"Gillian, I know when we first started dating that I said most my relationships only lasted for about three months, and now we're somewhere in the middle of our sixth and you're waiting for the other shoe to drop. The thing is, I just…"

Michael stopped and looked away for a moment in hesitation. She could tell there was more he wanted to say, but he was holding back. The psychologist in her wanted to know why, but the woman did not.

"Remember when we were having dinner last weekend and you said that I had a 'fear of intimacy'?"

"I was joking." She suddenly felt an inexplicable tightness in her chest.

"No you weren't. Psychologists don't joke about that kind of stuff," he replied as he took a sip of his iced tea. "… But then I got to thinking about it, and… you're just as bad as I am."

"What?"

"We've been together all this time, and I hardly know anything about you. I know your likes and dislikes, I know what you do, I know who you are. But I don't know you. Did it ever occur to you that it goes both ways in this relationship?"

Gillian frowned. This was not how a breakup talk was supposed to go. Staring down at the table, she tried to figure out what to say, because she could feel her defenses going up and she never reacted well when under attack.

"I'm sorry, but when was this ever anything more than casual? When was I supposed to bare my soul to you?" her tone was harsh and she immediately hated the way she sounded. And people wondered why it took her so long to address things?

But Michael was patient and far too understanding for his own good and gave her a calm smile, "You're right, this was only supposed to be casual, and I never expected anything more than that. But the more I was around you the more I wanted to be around you, all of you, even the ugly stuff. I haven't had that in a long time, Gillian. Please understand where I'm coming from, because this isn't easy —"

Time to nip this in the bud before she said something she'd regret.

"I'm not so sure you should finish your sentence," Gillian stated quickly. Casual was supposed to be fun, it was supposed to be pain free. This was not pain-free. He was making sense and that was not allowed.

"Let's make this easy, okay? We both have issues, ones that we've never bothered to consider because this was going to be short lived, except it wasn't and now we're dealing with the consequences. Now we're at that point where these things matter and we actually care about each other, but neither of us is willing to change. So, for the sake of the last six months and the good times that we've had together, I'm going to end this while both of us can get away relatively unscathed."

"Gillian, just wait a second, okay?"

She realized that somewhere along the way she'd stood up and now so was he. She studied him for a moment and she could see the tension creeping into his shoulders. Shrugging off her regret, she tried to swallow the confluence of emotions that were forming a knot in her throat. Just then his cell chimed and she had never been so grateful for an interruption in her life.

"I've got to take this," he stated, frustration evident.

"That's fine," her voice was tight. How was she supposed to leave again? "I've got to get back to work."

"Can we please finish this over dinner?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, we've said all we needed to say," she replied blandly as she turned to the door. Sensing his hesitation, she felt her resolve weaken momentarily. "Just… call me when you get off work if you feel the need. Otherwise, thank you… for everything."

She brushed her hand over his then left as he answered his cell. The walk back to work was long and hot and felt distinctly like an exercise in the perils of modern love. Did she really just thank him? Clearly she was not cut out for casual dating. She was more of a 'go big or go home' kind of girl.

By the time she reached the office, she'd managed to pluck up some form of fortitude. Maybe she'd let Loker look over the tapes and she'd get paperwork done then head out early. As she walked down the halls she could smell Mexican food wafting through the air and was reminded that she hadn't actually eaten her lunch. No matter, she lost her appetite anyway.

"Ah, you're back, great," said Loker as he walked from the break room. "How'd lunch go?" She shot him a don't go there look and he smartly kept his mouth shut, following Gillian into her office. "I was thinking that we could cut the time in half if you'd let me run the voice recognition software."

"You know that software isn't going to pick up half the voices because we've already got it at max volume and we're still struggling. It won't hold up in court and we need this to be perfect," Gillian replied as she set down her purse, keeping most of her face obscured from view. She took a deep breath and turned to find Loker leaning on one of her chairs, arms crossed, watching her. Disregarding his obvious scrutiny, she carefully schooled her features and leaned over her computer to check for any new emails.

"Do you have those emails I printed out from my guy with the US Marshals?" she asked absently. Loker disregarded her request and scratched his arm.

"Why does this case interest you so much? Why does it need to be perfect?"

Gillian tried to hide her frustration, but he caught it immediately. "This case interests me because that kid is innocent. He may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but he did not do what the authorities are claiming."

"You visited that kid at the hospital last night, didn't you?"

Ignoring his question, she turned back to her file cabinet and searched for the file of a similar case. She could not handle Loker in addition to her unpleasant lunch. This was not her day.

"Look, I'm not saying you're guilty of this, but does any of your past have to do with this case?"

Oh, for crying out loud.

"Are you insinuating that I'm projecting?"

"No…" Loker replied quickly. "It's just that the kid's dad used to drink all the time and I know —"

"No, Loker you don't know," her voice was low and serious. "You have one piece of information about me that was taken completely out of context, nothing more. Do not apply what little you know to this case and assume it is personal for me, because you are completely mistaken."

She stood quickly and rounded her desk, breezing past Loker entirely. Pushing through her door, Gillian could feel him following right behind. Her heels clacked on the floor as she stalked purposefully into the lab, picking up the two discs she'd left earlier. When she turned around Loker was right behind her and she nearly ran smack into him. They both took a step backwards and she went to move past him, but he put his hands on her shoulders to stop her.

"Don't leave, okay? I'm sorry… I was out of line," he said sincerely. Holding his gaze for a moment longer, she could see his regret and anxiety. She was over-reacting and it wasn't fair to him.

"No, I'm sorry," she replied as she looked down. "I'm… not in the best of moods and you're probably bearing the brunt of that. It's just… this case."

She stepped away from him and took a seat next to his chair, waiting for him to slide in next to her. They got back to work quickly and had gotten into a groove when a thought suddenly struck Gillian.

"Eli, what… what made you think I was projecting?"

"Nothin' really," he shrugged. "It was more of an offhand comment that Lightman made the other day when you said you were dropping by the hospital to check on the kid."

"So he thinks I'm projecting?"

"No, I think he's afraid you're going to overlook something because you're so convinced this kid is innocent."

Gillian bit her lip in consideration. She hadn't worked a case with Cal since Emily started back to school and that was weeks ago. Things had been okay between them lately… for the most part. He'd studiously avoided any topics having to do with her relationship with Michael, for which she was thankful. After the way her last relationship ended and the way Cal behaved… she didn't need to go through that again.

They worked in silence a few more minutes, but Gillian's heart wasn't in it. All she could do was think about the conversation she'd just had with Michael.

"Am I a hard person to get to know?" she asked unexpectedly.

Without skipping a beat, Loker replied, "yes."

"Really?"

"I have a notepad of questions I've always wanted to ask you, I kid you not. You may be all sunshine and daisies, but when it comes down to it, I figure that's just a front. We all do it though, so…"

"But…" Gillian floundered. "We've worked together for years." She sighed as she leaned back in her chair, not caring if he could read her.

"Well, as you so kindly pointed out a little bit ago, I know assorted and random things about you, but nothing to make a cohesive picture," he rubbed his chin as he looked over at her. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but we probably know more about Lightman than we do about you."

"That's because his past has a bad habit of appearing at the most inopportune times and it gets the better of him."

Loker shrugged in agreement, turning back to the computer as he sipped his soda.

"Was that your indirect way of telling me I can go hunt up that notepad?"

"Hardly," Gillian stood for a moment, feeling a little queasy from going to so long without food. "I'm going to make some tea, want anything?"

"A lobotomy?"

"Maybe when I've gotten all I need out of you," she replied darkly as she opened the door, rolling her eyes when she heard his reply: "Kinky."

Blinking at the bright light filtering into the hall, Gillian turned when she heard her name. It was Michael, walking like a man on a mission down the corridor towards her. This was… unexpected.

"Michael? What are you doing here?"

"Finishing our discussion." He smiled brashly as he walked up and cupped her cheeks, then pulled her in for a kiss. Soundly. Mind-dizzyingly. Caught off guard, she hardly reacted. Then instinct kicked in and she tilted her head to the side and slid her hands up the plane of his chest, gripping his collar tightly. If there was one thing they were good at, it was the physical aspect of their relationship. She wasn't quite sure how long they kissed for, but she was pretty certain it far exceeded the bounds of common decency and what was appropriate for the work place.

"Wow, so that's what you mean when you say you're making tea," interrupted Loker from the threshold of the lab, voice thick with amusement.

She and Michael broke apart at hearing his voice, both clearly caught up in the moment. Having the decency to look bashful, Michael stepped a way and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sorry, I uh… we need to uh…"

Gillian wiped her lips and smiled at his obvious and rare befuddlement. "Go in my office. And… talk." She grabbed Michael's hand and pulled him towards her office.

"Sure Gillian, tea… talking, whatever you say," Loker called out, smiling as she shot him another glare over her shoulder. Loker watched as Michael held the door open for her, smiling to himself. That was unexpected. His smile quickly dissipated as he watched Lightman swagger down the corridor with Torres close behind. By the set of his jaw and the scowl on his face, Lightman had clearly witnessed what just occurred. Loker groaned inwardly. And things had been going so well lately. No jealousy issues, no tense meetings, just work.

Instead of the expected reaction, Lightman walked by and tapped him on the shoulder. "In my office. Need your help."

Furrowing his brow, Loker frowned. This did not bode well. Having an immediate and unpleasant reaction from Lightman was preferred over him bottling it up, because that meant he had a plan and those were never good. Ever.

Mildly perturbed, he looked at Torres who shrugged in reply as she followed Lightman into his office. Loker glanced once more in Foster's direction, wondering whether or not he should give her a heads up that he was being reallocated for the time being.

.::.::.

Gillian was running on fumes. Yesterday she'd given in and let Michael speak his peace. He admitted that he was not in any way interested in breaking up with her, but actually wanted her to come away with him the following weekend. She'd told him she needed to think about it, sort of take a chance to regroup before she agreed to anything. After the summer she'd had, she felt like she was being stretched too thin and the thought of fully opening up to Michael was a little more than she could handle. Maybe she was isolating herself, maybe she was just being careful. Regardless, she didn't dwell on it too much.

After he'd left, she'd learned that Loker was needed on Lightman's case, which took precedent. Cal had made his request innocent enough, but in retrospect, she realized it hadn't been a request and he'd been watching for her reaction, not to whether or not she'd agree. He was up to something and she was beginning to think it had more to do with her case than she suspected.

Burning the midnight oil, Gillian got in touch with Brandon Lewis's high school friend who said he had old party footage of Brandon with Emile Campor, and had agreed to send it overnight. After reviewing the footage that morning, she knew exactly what she was looking for on the audiotapes and landed on it pretty quickly afterward. It was Emile Campor on the tapes at the supposed meth lab, of that she was certain. Shortly after, she got in touch with their liaison at the metro D.C. police department, hoping to see if they'd be willing to re-examine the evidence.

"I need Loker," said Gillian as she entered Cal's office, not caring if she was interrupting.

"He's working on something," Cal replied without looking away from the footage he was reviewing.

"He's supposed to be working on my case," she watched him, his passive-aggressiveness wearing on her.

"Which was suspended as of last night, if I recall correctly," Cal replied as he glanced at her over his shoulder.

"Well… it's not. I'll need him for two hours, after that, be my guest," she stated, not waiting for Cal's reply as she left his office.

"Foster, this case is dead in the water," Cal called out from his doorway, watching as she collected her purse. "Let it go."

She turned to him and sized him up. There was something he wasn't telling her. He never backed off from a case. Ever.

Instead of heeding Cal's words, Gillian leveled him with a look of suspicion. "Whatever you're up to cut it out. I'm serious."

"Me too," he replied. "Drop the case."

Gillian shook her head at him as she walked away, calling for Loker.

.::.

Their liaison was more of an old friend of hers than a detective, but he worked in the department and had the ability to get information that she would not otherwise be privy to. They'd agreed to meet two blocks west of the State Department in an out of the way coffee shop.

"I can't stay long," the detective said. "I'm supposed to meet my partner at Foggy Bottom for a stakeout."

"This'll be quick, I promise. Just had a couple questions," Gillian smiled as she glanced at Loker who nodded encouragingly. "When P.D. contacted us to work the case, were they actually interested in figuring out if Brandon Lewis was guilty, or were they trying to cover up something bigger?"

She watched the complete shock followed by guilt that overcame his features, "Wow, you don't mess around Gillian."

Taking that as an affirmative, she pressed on. "So, the case was suspended because… why? Was it even a meth lab? I reviewed the crime scene report and there was no mention of drugs or related paraphernalia on site. Out of the sake of curiosity, was Brandon Lewis collateral damage? I know his father isn't just a real-estate agent in California, unless drug-trafficking means something different out there."

"Gillian, I'm telling you with your best interest at heart, here. You need to drop your investigation, okay? It doesn't matter whether or not the kid caused the explosion. We suspended the case because the Feds ordered it. If you have any questions about that, then maybe you should talk to your F.B.I. buddy."

Frowning, Gillian shook her head. She hadn't been able to get a hold of Reynolds for two days. He'd been sent down to the Gulf for Cal's investigation.

"Got it, I understand. I just… just wanted to know," she replied with a thin smile. The detective nodded and left, leaving her and Loker sitting at the table in contemplative silence.

As they finished their coffee, another gentleman entered, looking like thousands of other government agents in his nondescript suit and sunglasses with a mildly noticeable bulge of a gun holster at his side. Instead of walking to the counter, he sat at the recently unoccupied chair and removed his sunglasses. Fixing Gillian with a cool stare, he flashed his badge and began speaking.

"I'm Special Agent Brian Cooper with the Bureau. We've been tailing you for a couple days now, just thought I would extend a professional courtesy and let you know that we've ordered the D.C. police to halt their investigation."

"It doesn't matter that an innocent kid got caught up in the middle of all this? Just as long as your operation can continue?" she asked derisively.

The agent ignored her and continued. "I just wanted to request that you also suspend your investigation, or we'll be forced to intervene."

"Is Emile Campor under witness protection?" she asked, disregarding the man's words.

"I have no knowledge of Emile Campor." The distinct flare of his nostrils told otherwise.

"Was Brandon Lewis in the wrong place at the wrong time or was this whole thing intentional? To get at his father?"

Her question seemed to tweak the agent and he felt the need to elaborate in order to keep her quiet.

"Doctor Foster, I think it's time you understood something. This isn't a simple matter of whodunit. This is a poly-agency affair to take down one of the largest drug rings in the country and has involved nearly eighteen months of undercover work. We are not about to allow a persistent kid to mess all that up. "

"So you admit that Brandon had nothing to do with this?"

"Look, all I'm saying is that if you don't stand down, we will go to great lengths to discredit you and your firm. From what I've learned about your business partner, it shouldn't be too hard."

The agent stood and left just as quickly as he'd arrived. Gillian clenched and unclenched her fists at intervals, feeling vaguely like she'd been duped. She and Loker left as well, walking in the direction of the car.

"So it's a government cover-up? Not just, woo there's a UFO, but a true-blue, 'This never happened' kind of thing? I mean, it's obvious that the Agent knew about Brandon, I just wonder if it was an accident that he got caught in the explosion."

Gillian walked around a crowd of tourists and shook her head. "No… remember what he said? We're not about to allow a persistent kid to mess all that up? They're banking on the fact that Brandon isn't going to wake up. I 'm beginning to think that they used Emile as bait for Brandon and that Brandon figured out there was some type of op going down."

"So the question is, do we let this die, or do we get to the heart of the matter?" Loker asked as they reached a corner. Waiting for the crossing signal, Gillian glanced at the opposite corner and froze immediately, her mind going completely blank.

The signal changed and Loker started walking without her, then halted when he realized she hadn't left the sidewalk.

"Gillian?" asked Loker as he turned back to her.

Gillian's gaze remained fixed across the street on Alec. He was standing in line outside a street cart, holding hands with a younger, prettier woman than Gillian. Flicking her gaze to the woman's left hand, she also noted the engagement ring as well as her very pregnant status. A wave of nausea hit her like a sack of bricks and Gillian sucked in air quickly. Tracing her line of vision, Loker tensed at what he saw. Silently, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her across the street to where the car was parked.

Of all the times to see Alec, it had to be today. Today when she had the worst case ever, today when her partner was up to no good, today when she was at the end of her rope. She knew she was bound to run into him sooner or later. D.C. wasn't that big a city when one frequented the same locations time and again. Alec eating lunch outside the State Department was hardly an anomaly.

The ride back to the office was uncomfortably quiet. Gillian had checked out entirely once Eli started the car and hadn't even realized it when they'd pulled into the parking lot. He left the car idling, staring out in front of them, obviously at a loss for what to do. She knew that Loker had been vaguely aware the whole time of what she'd gone through with her husband, ex-husband, but they'd never openly discussed it. She hadn't openly discussed it with anyone.

For her part, Gillian was trying to swallow the shock and the anger and the overwhelming… jealousy at Alec's success at starting a new family. Well, he got what he wanted, just had to erase her from the picture. Good to know she was so easy to replace. God, her freaking ex-husband could start a new family and she couldn't even commit to a weekend away with a wonderful man? What was wrong with her?

Taking a deep breath, she ignored Loker's concerned gaze as she blinked hard. She would get through this; she had to. She was succeeding for the most part. All she needed was a minute to get herself together. Later tonight, when she was alone in the privacy of her own home, she'd let the pain leak out of every pore, but for the time being she had other matters to focus on… to distract her from the sharp feeling of loss in her chest.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Loker offered uncertainly. Gillian glanced at him then back outside, the sky growing overcast. "No, I want you to forget you saw anything. And don't even mention it to Lightman, got it?" Shaking her head, she unclipped her seatbelt and climbed out of the car. Loker got out and started walking with her to the building, clearly at odds with himself.

The dull sensation of suspicion she'd had since the case began was becoming more profound the closer she drew to the building. Turning to Loker, she asked him what she'd been wondering since the beginning.

"Did Lightman put you up to this?"

"What?"

"The case. It's been off the entire time and reeks heavily of Cal's influence. Did he ask you to work an angle or give him updates or something?"

They'd both stopped and she watched him closely, taking in the shame and guilt that crossed his face. Gillian blinked hard and exhaled, shaking her head in astonishment.

"He didn't tell me why, he just wanted me to let him know what was going on, that's all."

The events of the past few days and especially the afternoon had added up. She'd reached her threshold. Something within her finally broke.

"The case is officially suspended," she stated evenly. "Tell him we're done." She saw confusion pass over Loker's face, surprised at her easy surrender. The worry on his features was evident as he caught the way she phrased the last part.

The chirping of her phone broke the tension. Answering it, she found that she was speaking to Brandon Lewis's mother. Oddly enough, Mrs. Lewis was at the hospital, he'd awoken, and the mother said Gillian was the first person she thought to call.

"Don't tell anyone else he's awake," Gillian stated firmly. "I'll be right there."

She ended the call and started searching for her own keys.

"Let me drive," Loker replied as he started walking back to the car.

"No," she replied as she found her keys. "Go back in and work with Lightman. I may go down for this, and I don't want to take anyone else with me. For you, it's over. That's all you need to say when he asks."

Loker realized that not only did she not trust him, but that she was giving him an out. She was serious. His hesitation was obvious as he tried to figure out what to do.

"Gillian —"

"Get back inside, Loker. I'm fine. I can handle this by myself."

.::.::.::.

A/N: Okay, so there are a lot of elements going on right now, and the five of you who read this are probably all dumsquizzled at the moment. Do not fear, the second part of this chap will be posted either today or tomorrow and some resolution will be achieved.