Chapter 49
Lightman Group Offices, Washington DC
One week later
Ria Torres couldn't quite believe what she was seeing. She squinted a little in hopes of confirming that her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. That the figure that was limping towards her in the hallway really was who she thought it was.
"Lightman?"
"One and only," he shot back.
Ria walked towards him until she was close enough to wrap him in a fierce hug while a giant smile spread across her face. Not exactly their customary greeting seeing as Cal Lightman wasn't much of a hugger. At least not with his staff he wasn't. But then again this wasn't a customary meeting. It wasn't every day that he came back to the office after being shot three times and then spending two months recovering.
Ria Torres took in the sight of him. Reading him unabashedly in every sense of the word. Making sure he was okay.
He wore a suit, a shockingly non-wrinkled suit complete with a jacket and shiny dress shoes. Granted there was no tie and his jacket wasn't buttoned up and he also sported a three-day shadow, but still, his outfit was formal enough to suggest he wasn't just here for a visit. Truth was, he looked good, really good, in spite of the cane he was holding in one hand. Handsome almost.
"No one told us you were coming back!" Ria exclaimed, taking a step back to give him some breathing room.
"Heard that the bunch of you brought this place out of the red and turned it back into a success story. Figured it was time I came in and started messing it up again."
Ria made a face. "Don't even joke about that."
Lightman grinned. "Too soon?"
"Yes."
His gaze went to her growing bump. "Hear congratulations are in order."
"Thanks."
"Mama Torres and Papa Loker..." he paused, letting it sink in. "It's bonkers what happens when you let the kids run the place."
"I thought Foster was running the place?"
His grin softened. "Nah...I mean it, Torres. Congratulations. Looking forward to the first Lightman Group baby."
"Doesn't Emily have that honour?"
"Nah...she was born long before this place. She's my Pentagon baby."
Ria was happy to see him, even more so than she expected to be.
Maybe Foster was the kinder, gentler of two of them, but she'd always felt more at ease around Lightman, even on days when he was being an insufferable jerk, same way Loker always felt more comfortable around Foster. It was because they were cut from the same cloth. Lightman might have a "doctor" in front of his name but he was just as rough around the edges as she was and it was obvious in everything he did. He'd grown up in the barrio, or whatever they called them in England, same as her, and had a childhood that was just as rough as hers. And just like Ria Torres, he usually didn't think before he spoke and didn't care a whole lot for social niceties.
With Cal Lightman what you saw was what you got and Ria liked that kind of honesty.
Although the Lightman she saw now was different than the Lightman she was used to seeing. Less than five minutes after she spotted him in the hallway, he'd already hugged her and congratulated her on her pregnancy. This wasn't the same Cal Lightman who punched out a cop in a police station more than a year ago and jump-started the downfall of their company.
He'd changed since then. Losing Foster had changed him.
Ria Torres was convinced that he needed Gillian in his life. And in order to make that happen again, he had to change.
"So you are back?" She questioned. "For real?"
"That alright with you?"
Ria's grin was still there. It was more than alright. They needed his skills and more selfishly she hoped that him being back meant her days at Leslie Rotblatt's office might soon be a thing of the past. Plus she missed the chance to keep learning from him. No one else was able to hone her skills the way he could. "Yeah, that's alright with me. But are you ready? You're okay? Physically?"
"I don't look alright?"
Ria groaned. Some things hadn't changed. "Yeah...sure. Sure you do."
"Right, then. Gonna head over to my office and make sure it hasn't been painted pink yet."
"You might be a week too late for that."
Cal scrunched up his lips and stared at her. "Nice try."
"Just checking to make sure you can still spot a lie."
He walked past her, towards his office, much slower and more cautiously than he used to.
Torres thought she heard him mumble something about never getting any respect.
"Welcome back, Lightman."
Lightman Group Offices
"Oh, hi."
Cal smiled at her, sitting at his desk and looking all sorts of gorgeous in a form-fitting red dress. He was a little torn about the amount of cleavage she was showing though. Appreciative on a personal level but wanting to toss her a jacket in case she decided to leave the room like that. After all, he wasn't too keen on sharing Gillian Foster with the rest of DC.
"Oh hi to you too."
"Thought you weren't coming in until after your physio appointment?"
"Got an earlier appointment."
"I didn't even get around to telling the others you were coming back."
"S'alright. Just saw Torres, she'll tell Loker and then Almeida will know. There's only the three of them still, aye?"
"Aye, aye," she nodded. "But I do have two interviews scheduled this afternoon."
"I can do them."
Gillian stood up and stepped over his side, planting a kiss on his cheek. She was taller than him in her black patent-leather heels. "Sit down," she gestured to his desk.
"I'm okay."
She gave him a little push towards his chair, which did look rather inviting. "I insist."
He didn't protest because it was still hard on his knee to spend too much time standing up and setbacks in his recovery wouldn't go well with his plans to come back here full-time. He settled into his comfortable leather chair while she sat on the rim of his desk, letting her dress slide up along her legs and completely distracting him.
She said something he didn't catch.
"Huh?"
She narrowed her eyes, stopping just short of rolling them. "Instead of doing the interviews, I was thinking maybe you could help Alex on a case. It would help if he used the Cube for it and he's not entirely comfortable doing that on his own yet."
"Alright." No protest there either. Sinking his teeth into an actual case sounded a lot more appealing than trying to weed through the phony pleasantries of eager job seekers. "What's it about?"
"Ask Alex. He's in his office and I'm heading out with Torres for a quick meeting before she heads over to the Rotblatt office."
"What meeting?"
"State Department," she explained. "Alex and I have been trying to get some FBI cases again. We haven't had much luck but one of the contacts we spoke to there referenced us to the State Department so we might pick up some work there."
"Really?" He was impressed. They were gaining ground all over the place. "Need me to come?"
"No." She teased. "I need you to get settled in and give Alex a hand."
"You know, just 'cause I can't run a marathon doesn't mean you have to keep me in the building and treat me with kid gloves."
"I know." She acknowledged. "But Alex really does need help on the Cube. Unless you wanna go to Leslie Rotblatt's office, then I'll have Torres do it."
"Helping Almeida with the Cube it is."
"By the way," she leaned forward a little, inching her dress even higher up her thighs and raising his body temperature. "Now that you're back I don't have an office anymore. I don't want to kick Torres out of hers and take back my old one."
"Move a desk in here. Plenty of space." He locked his eyes with hers. "It'll make a quick office shag much easier. Logistically, that is."
For a moment he thought she was contemplating it. But of course she wasn't. Not that he doubted for a second that it would happen. Whether or not she had a desk here.
"Seriously, Cal. We already live together. We'll kill each other if we spend our days working in the same room."
"But we always have the best make-up up sex."
This time she sighed out loud. "There's that room at the end of the hall that we use mostly for storage. It has a nice big window. I think I could convert it into an office."
"Or you could move a desk in here..."
"Can we be serious for two seconds?"
His hand somehow ended up on her thigh, fingers inching underneath the fabric of her dress. Cal wasn't sure how that happened. His hands had a will of their own when it came to her skin. "I am being serious."
She stood up and adjusted her dress. "You're not."
"You're leaving?"
"Yes."
He didn't hide his disappointment. "What am I gonna do?"
"Catch up on our case files? Read the seven hundred or so e-mails in your inbox? Talk to Alex?"
"Is the kettle still in the back room?"
"I tossed it. There's a new espresso machine on the counter now."
"We don't kid about things like that."
"Sure we do." Gillian smirked. "I'll start clearing out my stuff when I get back."
"Take your time."
"Okay. I will." Her blue eyes met his. "It's nice to have you back. Really nice."
"You sure? I didn't see any welcome banners in the hallway."
She laughed as she grabbed her purse. "Sorry. Wasn't in the budget."
Lightman Group Offices
Alex Almeida's office was near the end of the hallway, near where Gillian said she was going to set up hers. It wasn't an office so much as it was an old filling room that they'd converted into something that had a desk and a few plants. It wasn't much but Cal knew that Loker envied Almeida for it. Although Cal was also certain that if he'd actually admit it, Loker was far happier having a desk right in the lab than he would be if he had an actual office. It's why he kept him there and gave Almeida the office.
He was sitting at his desk when Cal knocked on the door but then promptly stood up to greet him. "Dr. Lightman! Welcome back!"
He threw his arms around him without hesitation. Much like Ria had done earlier.
"Thanks," Lightman told him, sitting down across from him once he made it back to his desk, studying the giant Brazilian man. He only barely had a chance to get to know him before he was shot. But he always liked the lack of deception on the man's face.
Dr. Alex Almeida was a man who was comfortable in his own skin. A man who had nothing to hide. Cal guessed that hadn't always been the case and that he relished it even more so because of it. Because he knew what it meant to not have that freedom.
But that was just a guess.
"I owe you a thank you too," he started, once he finished studying his face. "Foster told me you're the one we have to thank for the Meridian contract."
"It was good timing more than anything else," he admitted. "My partner had a group from the company at his restaurant."
"You saw an opportunity and took it. Because of it, the company is back on its feet."
"This is true," Alex acknowledged the compliment. "We did jump on it. Did we ever."
"Wanna thank you for something else too," he started. This didn't come easily for him. Gratitude never did. "These past coupla months, Foster needed someone to help her out, someone she could trust and I know that someone was you. Wanna thank you for that too."
"You don't have to thank me for that," Alex told him. "She's a friend. She made my miserable job at the prison bearable again and I wouldn't be sitting here in this office if it wasn't for her."
Cal scrunched his lips. "Still what you did for her...want you to know I appreciate it. 'Cause she means a lot to me."
"I know and you're welcome."
Alex waited a moment before asking. "How is she doing?"
Cal shrugged. "Hard to say. Sometimes, when there are enough distractions, I think she's perfectly fine. Least it's what I wanna believe. Then there's moments when I know she's not. We went to her place a couple of days ago...to help out the movers. I told myself I was ready for her reaction...but, that's a lie 'cause I wasn't. I was arrogant enough to think that if I went with her it'd be good. That she'd be okay. But she wasn't."
"It's not arrogance," Alex pointed out. "To think we're capable of helping the people we love."
Cal leaned his elbows on Alex's desk. "Not used to be being so bloody useless. Don't like it."
"You're letting her know she's not alone, that's anything but useless. And the way she's reacting to what was a major trauma, it's common, healthy even. Honestly...I'd be more worried if she wasn't affected it by it."
Cal chuckled. Shrinks were so good at finding the right words. He wondered whether they all took the same course. Assuring Therapeutic Verbiage 101.
"So what do I do?" he questioned him. "Just let this thing runs its course?"
"I think some professional help might help. She's not helpless...but needs someone who'll remind her how to help herself again. To show her how. She has the tools but right now she's overwhelmed, so she's forgotten how to use them."
"You think she should see a shrink?"
"Any professional she feels comfortable with."
"This isn't my territory, Almeida. I'm asking you for suggestions. Specific ones."
"There are some terrific therapists in DC or..." He looked as though a light bulb went off in his head. "There's this place that I've sent some of my patients to...that is, the ones that weren't stuck in prison." He typed something into his computer and then turned the screen around so Cal could see it.
The homepage looked like an advertisement for a resort. A beautiful beachside resort, complete with hammocks, palm trees and yoga classes. "Sunrise Treatment Center?"
"They deal specifically with the effects of trauma. People who are getting over a major life event. Natural disasters, rape, assaults, escaping a conflict zone, car crashes, war veterans...you name it. They have seven and fourteen day programmes. And in severe cases twenty-one days."
Cal squinted to read the fine print. "It's in...South Carolina."
"It's the best place in the country for treating post-traumatic stress. Because it's all they concentrate on. No addiction rehabilitation or other psych disorders are treated there and they use a largely holistic approach. Very limited drug-therapy. Their focus is on mindfullness, meditation, cognitive-behaviour therapy...given the kind of treatment she believes in, I think...this would be right up Gillian's alley. This could be amazing for her."
Cal stared at the picture on the computer screen, then at Almeida's face. He meant every word. Wasn't trying to sell him something. "A seven day minimum stay?" He wondered how he'd sell that to Foster. Could hear her voice in his head already.
"You want me to go away to a treatment centre for a week? Have you lost your mind?"
"The only drawback is that it isn't cheap," Alex Almeida pointed out to him.
Cal didn't care about that. They had money in the bank again and she deserved the best.
"And you'll probably have a hard time convincing Gillian."
"If you say this place is the best. I'll give it a try. Every now and then she actually listens to me."
Alex smiled. "I hope she does this time. Let me know if you need help."
Cal slouched down in his chair. Much as he appreciated the offer he was hoping he wouldn't need it this time. "Speaking of help..." He was eager to get off the topic of his personal life now. "Foster says you need help on a case."
"The Whitelaw case?"
"I dunno...she told me to ask you. Something about where you need to use the Cube, this afternoon."
"Oh yes..." Alex turned the computer screen around and offered him a swizzle stick which Cal turned down, before grabbing one himself. No wonder Foster and him got along. "That is the Whitelaw case. It's an 82-year old who's claiming her maid's robbing her, wants us to prove that the maid's lying. I don't think she is, but she's coming in this afternoon and we're going to interview her in the Cube. Give our client plenty of documented proof either way."
"Right then..." Cal stifled a yawn. He was hoping for a real case. Not one that wouldn't even require the Cube.
But then he reminded himself that it was these kinds of cases that had kept them alive before they landed the Meridian contract.
And it was these kind of cases that would hone Almeida's skill in the fine art of lie detection.
Lightman Residence, Washington DC
Later
She slipped out of their cocoon of warmth and intimacy in the middle of the night, thinking he didn't hear her.
But he was a lighter sleeper these days than he used to be, so in spite of her quiet stealth, he did hear her. Cal pretended that he didn't, thinking she'd be back soon anyway.
Cal Lightman's eyes were open, slowly adjusting to the lack of light and occasionally glancing at the illuminated dials of the Rolex watch on his wrist.
Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen.
Thirty.
Maybe she wasn't coming back.
Cal tossed the duvet covers off the bed and put on a pair of pyjama bottoms that he found hanging on a chair, so he wasn't completely naked.
He slowly made his way down the stairs and found her sitting on the couch, wearing a silk robe and watching TV. The volume was low enough that he barely heard what the actors were saying.
Gillian turned to him, when he plopped himself down next to her. He spotted Moritz snoring near his favourite spot by the fireplace.
"I woke you, didn't I?"
"Yeah..."
"I'm sorry. I tried not to."
"S'alright. I'll fall back asleep if you come back up to bed."
"I just...needed a distraction," she explained.
"From what?"
She bit her lip and hesitated. It surprised him, how much she still struggled to be honest with him. Made him wonder how much honesty there'd been in her marriage to Alec. By contrast, his ex-wife used to accuse him of too much honesty in their marriage.
Between Alec and Zoe, Cal hoped he was capable of finding a happy medium with Gillian.
"From seeing Kline's face whenever I close my eyes."
Cal swallowed. This was why she struggled to tell him the truth. Because she saw that it hurt him.
"We'll leave the light on and you can keep your eyes open and stare at my face instead."
She smiled a lop-sided smile. "I do like staring at your face. It's a nice face."
"It's a deal then..."
"But tonight I think I'll stare at George Clooney a little longer."
"Ouch."
"It's not personal."
"That's what they all say."
"But I mean it." Gillian leaned against his arm, burrowing her head into his space. "Go back to bed."
He kissed the side of her head, ending up with hair in his mouth. "And you're gonna stay up all night?"
"Yes."
He sighed.
She raised her brows. "You keep telling me you want the truth."
"Come back to bed," he tried again. "I'll keep you distracted."
She pushed herself away from him and shook her head. "I don't feel so good. I'd rather stay down here for a bit."
He eyed her in the dim light coming from the television set. She didn't look so good either. She hid it well during the day, with make-up and elegant work outfits, but now it was easy to see how pale and tired she looked. Made him wonder again how much longer she could keep this up.
"I talked to Alex today," he started. Since they were on an honest streak, he figured it was a good time to tell her. "I asked him if he could recommend something."
She raised her brows, defenses going up as she ignored George Clooney on the screen in front of them.
"Recommend something for you," he clarified.
Gillian exhaled. Annoyed. "You didn't."
"I did."
"I'm perfectly capable of finding myself a shrink."
"You might be capable but you're not doing it."
"You had no right..."
"Alex knows you need to do something about this, as much as I do." He ignored her indignation. "He suggested this place in South Carolina. Said it was the best in the country."
"Sunrise Treatment Center?"
"Yeah...that's it."
"Are you kidding me?" Gillian looked at him incredulously.
"You know it?"
"They have a minimum of one-week stays and they're crazy expensive and...and it's in South Carolina!"
"So?" He stared at her.
"Have you lost your mind?"
He stopped himself from chuckling. Mildly impressed with himself for knowing her as well as he did. Knowing this was exactly how she'd react. "You're not taking any steps to get help. So I thought I'd take some for you."
"I can't just...go away for a week!"
"Why not?"
"With all the work we now have to contend with at the Group?"
"I'm back and we're hiring staff...and I'm not saying take off first thing tomorrow morning. But you could go in a week or two or whenever they have space."
"I can't believe you're seriously considering this..."
She was about to get up and walk away from him. It was her usual modus operandi when they fought: fleeing the scene. So he grabbed her wrist. "I'm seriously considering it, Gill," he said softly. He used to get Zoe to listen when he raised his voice but with Gillian it was the opposite. That much he'd learned. "I wish you'd consider too."
She exhaled but held in her anger. "Stop pushing, Cal."
He let go of her wrist. "Okay. But at least think about it."
She didn't answer. Fastened the belt on her robe and walked away from him, back up to the stairs to the bedroom.
He thought about following her but decided against it. If she really needed to put some physical distance between them he'd indulge her for once. That and he didn't feel like climbing back up the stairs.
If he was being honest with himself, he'd also admit that he didn't enjoy being around her when she was like this. Distant, angry and unyielding.
Cal knew enough about psychology to understand that it was just another symptom of what she was going through. He knew better than to take it personally.
But still.
He really hoped she'd consider some sort of treatment. He wanted it desperately for her own sake. Because he wanted her to stop hurting.
But he also wanted it for more selfish reasons. He wanted the old Gillian back. The one who was warm and funny and loved life. The unapologetic optimist whose face lit up when he brought her a cupcake. The quiet, steadfast partner who kept him calm and focused when chaos swirled all around him.
I miss you.
"That and I'm lousy at filling your shoes..." Having relied on her to do it for so long, meant he wasn't so good at being the one who held everything together.
Cal stared at the TV screen. George Clooney wasn't really his type but he was too lazy to switch the channel.
After a while he got into the movie and started to paying attention to it. So much so that he barely noticed Gillian coming back down the stairs, back to the sofa where he was sitting. Snuggling into him without a word.
"Missed me?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.
"George. I missed George."
Cal chuckled. "Liar."
She was quiet for a while until he heard her mumble an apology during a commercial.
"I'm sorry..." she repeated. "For being so difficult."
"Not gonna make you do anything you don't want to. You know that."
"I know."
"Just want you to consider it. As a possibility."
"I will."
Getting a hold of one of her hands, he entwined his fingers with hers. He did want the old Gillian back but he loved this one too and he told her as much.
She didn't tell him she loved him nearly as often as he told her. Probably never would, knowing he could see it in her eyes with one glance in his direction. The way he did right now.
"You think they're gonna pull off the heist?" he asked her, turning his attention back to the movie. Debating whether to put some popcorn in the microwave. Even if it was three in the morning.
"Yes."
"You've seen it."
"No, I haven't seen it."
"So what makes you think they're gonna pull it off?"
"It's Hollywood...and it's George Clooney and Brad Pitt. Catherine Zeta-Jones. Of course they're going to pull it off."
He looked at her, having to squint to catch the micro-expression in the semi-darkness. "You have seen it."
"You're good."
"You know it." He was pleased with himself. Not for being able to see through her blatant lie but because she was sitting next to him again, thoroughly distracted from Hunter Kline.
Maybe he was better at filling her shoes than he thought.
