The Core of It
Now before I do this, I want you to know that I'm sorry.
-Lie to Me, "The Core of It"
Cal was at his desk, seated in front of some papers. But from the way his hands were bunched up in front of his eyes, she didn't think much work was being done.
He couldn't have seen her, but still he spoke.
"Go away, Foster."
The voice was tinged with exhaustion, dulled in its emotions.
Empty.
She looked at him for a long moment. He didn't meet her eyes. She sighed, before sitting down in the chair he kept across from his desk.
"You know I can't do that."
This brought the hands down, the eyes up. And she saw the anger, the frustration that flashed across his face.
"Yeah?" he said, "Well, then I will." He shoved himself up off the desk and stalked across the room. In a moment he would be out the door and—
"Cal…please."
He stopped, his figure framed in the doorway, back heaving. The moment stretched out forever…until—
His shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly.
"What do you want me to say?"
His voice almost broke her heart.
What do you want me to say?
It was a delicate dance. A ritual they had needed all too many times over the years.
He turned around without looking at her and paced to the back of the room.
"I'm fine," he said. He started flipping through some files.
"Cal."
He ignored her, concentrating on the files, but she could see his hands were shaking.
"Cal."
He didn't turn around, but his motions became more and more frantic, more and more desperate.
Without warning, he snatched a stack of files and hurled them against the wall. And stood there, back to her, fists clenched, breathing hard.
She knew what was coming.
He whirled around. "All right then," he said, his mouth twisted in a desperate snarl. "I'm not fine." He still didn't meet her eyes. "I'm a great big bloody bastard who gets off on threatening girls who are only a couple of years older than my daughter!"
Gillian let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
Oh, Cal.
"I didn't say that." She kept her voice steady.
He didn't look at her as he walked back to the desk. Then he slumped down in his chair and pressed his hands against his forehead, hiding his face behind his arms. "You knew what I was doing in that room," he said hoarsely.
She didn't look away. "Yes. Yes I did."
"Why—" He broke off.
And she watched the man in front of her, whom she had known for so many years, and chose her words carefully.
"Why are you always so willing to sacrifice Cal Lightman?"
He looked up, startled, and his eyes met hers. And for a moment she saw in those eyes the truth of her words.
Then he looked away.
"Because he deserves it." His words were harsh, the voice rough.
Her response was automatic. "No, he doesn't."
He looked back at her, almost unwillingly, face set in a rigid mask.
"Cal, I'm not going to pretend that everything that happened today was okay. But a murderer is behind bars and a young girl has her life back…because of you."
He didn't move.
She sat there for one moment, two, and then stood up and walked to the doorway. He might not believe her. Probably didn't. But saying the words…it was enough.
The softly spoken response came after she had stepped out into the hallway.
"Thanks."
She didn't know if he even intended her to hear. But she did.
And it was enough.
Gillian Foster stepped out into the night.
We've seen how little value Cal places on his own life. I think that extends into other areas of his work, into his willingness to perform actions that others would never consider. He doesn't care what might happen to him. But I think it still affects him. On the flip side, we've seen hints throughout the series that Foster acts a sort of moral compass for Cal. And "Secret Santa" indicated that she has possibly acted as his counselor before. Lightman is very good at hiding his feelings—but I think Foster is one of the few people he will occasionally let inside.