Chapter Four: Paper Faces on Parade

Eli Loker and Abigail stepped off the elevator and into the offices of The Lightman Group. It was after hours and the offices appeared deserted, a quiet calm overtaking the usually bustling halls. "I'm sorry we had to detour, this'll just take a minute," Eli said uncomfortably. Abigail chalked his discomfort up more to the suit and tie he was wearing than anything. Eli had asked her to accompany him to a play that evening, something about free tickets and his date had fallen through. She was happy to go, she did love the theatre, and any excuse not to spend another night pouring over her 'required reading' was a welcome one.

"No problem, Eli." Abigail removed her coat, revealing the simple cocktail dress she wore. Eli turned back to say something to Abigail and was caught off guard. "You're pretty," Mr. Radical Honesty announced.

Rewarding the compliment with a smile, she shooed Eli back the way he had been going before. "Hurry, I don't want to be late."

Eli stood there for another moment before remembering why he had turned around in the first place. "Can you do me a favour, Abigail?"

"Sure," she nodded.

"Cal asked me to check the door to the inlet, make sure it's locked. Can you do that?"

"No problem," Abigail said, turning to walk to the inlet and check on the door. Eli watched her walk away, heard her footsteps fade into the distance. When she was out of his eyesight he removed his tie, unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt and walked back to the elevator. He pushed the 'down' button and waited. A new set of footsteps came closer to him, he turned and gave a small salute of hello to Doctor Foster.

"He roped you into this too, huh?" Gillian said, coming up beside Loker.

"Well, you know me, always trying to be a part of the group. Besides, this could prove very interesting research-wise." He looked over at Gillian, "Are we recording what's going on out there?"

Gillian hit Loker on the arm. "Of course not. Cal remembers everything anyway, no doubt he'll write it up somewhere."

"Just make sure Abigail doesn't ever find out," Eli said sagely. The elevator arrived and the doors slid open. "Are you leaving, too?"

"I'm going to stick around. You know, just in case."

"Just in case Cal cracks her too wide open. Got it," Eli nodded. He stepped onto the elevator, but put his arm out to keep it from closing right away. "This is the right thing to do…right?"

Gillian gave a little smile, shrugging. "It's what Cal wants to do."

" 'All the world's a stage and we are merely players'," Eli quoted. "Night, Doctor Foster." He stepped back and let the elevator door close. Gillian retreated to her office, nursing a cup of tea, waiting to know if Cal's chosen course of action was the correct one…

Abigail walked to the entrance of the inlet, surprised to see the door standing wide open. Shaking her head, she went to pull the door closed when she was distracted by soft light.

There were white lights strung in the trees and bushes. All of the tables, chairs and benches had been removed, a single table stood in the centre of the inlet. Two chairs. A white tablecloth. Glasses. Plates. Flowers. The unmistakable form of Dr Cal Lightman with his back to her.

Abigail took in the sight before her, blinking a few times before speaking. "What is this?"

Cal kept his back to Abigail and he was not going to turn around until she approached him. She could choose Option A, deciding to walk away from this, embarrassed to have interrupted something. She could choose Option B, deciding to step forward and continue this path of finding out what was going on.

It was the last time she would have control over anything that evening.

As if called by his thoughts, she slowly began approaching him. "Am I interrupting something?"

Cal still did not turn to face her. He would only respond once she was close enough to him.

Abigail did not understand what was going on. Determined to find the underlying cause of it, she walked up behind Cal, touching his forearm lightly, "Cal," she said softly.

Cal closed his eyes briefly and silently nodded. So this is how the night was going to proceed. Option B it was.

Cal turned around and smiled. "Abigail," he said warmly.

"What is all this?" Abigail asked, motioning to the surroundings.

"This is dinner." Cal answered plainly.

Abigail leaned in conspiratorially, "Who's it for?"

"It is for us."

Abigail blinked. "Us meaning who?"

"Us meaning you and I, love," Cal laughed softly.

Abigail's brows knit in confusion. "Why are you and I having dinner?"

"Just…because."

"You don't do anything just because. What is going on here?"

Cal audibly grimaced. "I wanted to do something nice for you."

"Nice for-?"

"Stop repeating everything I say!" he laughed.

"I'm sorry but you're acting weird right now," Abigail said.

Cal turned away from her for a second, then turned back to face her once more. "I can't stop thinking about you."

This information hit Abigail like a ton of bricks falling from above. Swallowing, she responded how she always would in this situation – humorous honesty. "We work together, you see me almost every day."

Cal shook his head with a smile. "That's not it at all." He moved so he was standing directly in front of Abigail, staring into her eyes. "Ever since the day you came into my office and told me you had a crush on me I've been thinking about you."

Abigail giggled uncomfortably, but her eyes were showing fear. "But that's what you're supposed to do. I mean, you hold it over my head and joke about it. You must think about it at some point."

Cal reached out, gently took one of her hands in his, and looked pleadingly into Abigail's eyes. "Please don't make light of this, Abigail. I can't bear it."

All of the breath left Abigail in one whoosh of air, and she promptly sat down in one of the chairs that surrounded the table. My God, she thought. Is this really happening?

In the meantime, Cal was congratulating himself on bringing Abigail this far. A few more steps and she'd fully be under his thrall. Who the hell uses the word thrall these days anyway, Cal thought to himself before snapping back to the present. He crouched in front of Abigail, lowering himself below her line of sight. An unconscious transfer of power would go through Abigail's mind – her being situated above him would give her the illusion of being in control. It was why a one kneeled on one knee when proposing – the transfer of power, giving the person being proposed to the power to answer however they chose. Cal was still firmly helming this situation, however.

"I even dressed up for you. Had you noticed?" Cal said softly, still holding one of Abigail's hands, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.

Abigail had not noticed but was then forced to take in what she saw before her. He wore an expertly tailored three-piece suit, faintest of grey pinstripes running through the black fabric. Everything was pressed, everything was buttoned. He even wore a tie, neatly tied at the neck, but it wasn't the appearance of these rarely seen articles of clothes that Abigail commented on. "You cut your hair," she commented.

"Yeah," he said sheepishly, running his free hand through the newly trimmed locks. "I wanted to make an impression, what can I say?"

"You are certainly doing that," Abigail conceded.

She's right where I want her, Cal thought. Just a few more pushes…

Gillian Foster had not wanted to watch what was going on, she had decided that it would make her feel like a peeping tom and it wasn't her place to see what Cal was doing. She had agreed to stay in the building that night in case Cal did more damage than he was expecting to Abigail, and she would do what she could to clean up Cal's mess. It was one of her strong points. One of the reasons, she often thought, that Cal kept her around.

But when Gillian saw all the trouble Cal went to in setting this 'intervention' for Abigail up – the inlet, the suit, the haircut, she had felt a squeeze in her stomach. She refused to give the emotion a name – giving it a name gave it power. Gillian did not want to acknowledge that feeling.

Something had drawn her to one of the windows looking out into the inlet area. A secluded window half covered by a tree outside. Seeing the tenderness, the happiness, even the glow on his face as he went on with his charade, whether it was false emotion or not…she felt that squeeze again.

This time she had to name it.

It was jealousy.

Gillian closed her eyes and sighed. The Doctor in her said she should leave this window, go back to her office and see no more. Deal with what she had seen already. The woman in her, however, had a different idea. Stay. Watch. Witness.

Observe what Cal in love might look like.

See what she would never have.

And for once, the Doctor side of her lost.

She stood. She watched.

Her jealousy grew.