A/N: Massive thanks once again, everyone! I can hardly believe that this story has gotten so long, and I'm extremely appreciative to all of you who continue to read, review, or message me. As promised, Loker is back in action with this latest chapter, Gillian is about to meet some new clients who remind her of things she'd very much like to forget, and Cal takes the first step in setting up his plan. Enjoy!
(Also, there's a tiny bit of foul language coming. One f-bomb and a few 'smaller' words.)
Hindsight.
Gillian Foster was no stranger to the theory that it was, in fact, twenty-twenty. And after spending far too many years as the wife of a cocaine addict with a fondness for bedding other women, she'd lived the truth behind those words more often than most. They'd burned her, occasionally surprised her, and – as was the case with her feelings for Cal – reminded her that sometimes… a little change in perspective wound up doing a lot of good.
The translation? From the sofa, to the blanket, and even to the food she and Cal shared, Gillian couldn't help but feel that now – with the benefit of hindsight in her back pocket and a fantastic night's sleep under her belt – even the most ordinary things in her life had a bigger meaning. They felt… lighter, somehow. Like something had finally "clicked" and aligned all the pieces of her heart into one.
It was a clichéd thought, and she knew that. But sitting there in her office, at her desk, in the 'home away from home' that she'd built with Cal… it felt true. And every single time she glanced down at her keyboard – at the sight of her bare-knuckled fingers pecking away at the keys – she smiled.
Ah, yes: the rings. She and Cal had worn them as a sign of the love they each carried for other people; she for Alec and he for Zoe. In sickness and health… for better or worse… for richer or poorer. And yet in the end, it had taken only a few simple movements and the scrape of metal against overheated skin to make them realize that in hindsight, they really should have seen it coming all along.
After all, trust issues and vindictiveness had cracked the Lightman/Landau marriage since long before the night Gillian dragged Cal out of that bar. And the implosion of the Foster marriage had begun when Alec chose to let drugs, deceit, and recreational fucking become his new 'normal.' Neither divorce had come as much of a surprise. They were simply inevitable.
And call her crazy, but it was almost as if those rings had short-circuited some kind of… panoramic view. Meaning that she and Cal had been so consumed by symbols and tradition and the things they felt obligated to do – to wait, and to respect the bonds of marriages that had already crumbled into dust, yet still kept them legally bound to other people – that as soon as they were removed, poof! Twenty-twenty vision was instantaneous.
She loved Cal, and Cal loved her, and of course they would be together. That was also inevitable. They just… fit.
The surprising part, though, came in the way that twenty-twenty hindsight made her see everything else. As in, all the worrying she'd done about what to say to their staff… how to act as if nothing had changed when, in reality, everything had changed. Her heart, her life, her future. But as luck would have it, within the first few moments after she'd walked through the door, Gillian realized that she'd been worried for nothing.
The Lightman Group employed some of the most brilliant minds in Washington – all trained by the world's leading expert on deception, and all unable to ever turn that training "off." So of course they'd seen the changes. That's what they were paid to do, right? Expecting anything less was just… stupid. And expecting them to ignore what they saw was also stupid.
Because they couldn't.
Besides, it wasn't like she'd done anything shameful. She hadn't sprouted a second head, or gotten herself arrested, or danced naked in front of the White House. No, she'd fallen in love with Cal. And incidentally, that fact had very little to do with the broken nose filled showdown Loker (and likely others) had seen. Cal hadn't started the fight – he'd finished it. That's right: when her soon-to-be-ex-husband behaved like a deplorable ass, Cal had simply done what anyone would've expected him to do. He'd defended her.
(And if that outcome surprised anyone, well then… they didn't deserve to keep their jobs.)
So no one batted an eye when Gillian walked through that door on Wednesday morning. No one mentioned Alec's broken nose, or the fact that she and Cal had both gone AWOL after it happened. No one fished for information, or mentioned her missing ring, or did anything out of the ordinary at all. The assistants still smiled warmly and offered to get her a coffee… the client files still turned up in her mailbox en masse, and Loker was, well… himself. As radically honest as ever, yet respectful of the boundaries he knew weren't meant to be crossed.
That raise Cal mentioned? The one intended for Loker? As far as Gillian was concerned, it was a done deal – he was an invaluable asset in the lab, knew the science inside and out, and could analyze behavior almost as well as Cal himself. He deserved it. The fact that it was nearly noon and he hadn't made some crazy comment about her sex life or looming divorce was just gravy.
The key word there was "nearly." Because "nearly noon" meant that the insurance audit had finished early, which left her with just enough time to grab a quick snack before heading out for appointment number two. And she distinctly remembered Cal's quip about Oreo pudding. Seriously, if the man had also stocked them in her office mini fridge, well then… she just might jump him by evening.
Three… two… one…
Gillian grinned. Oh yes, there would be jumping. Serious, enthusiastic jumping.
She popped the lid off the small cup, pulled a spoon from her bottom drawer (yes, she kept her own supply, thank-you-very-much), and closed her eyes as she slowly savored the first mouthful. By the second, visions of a candlelit bubble bath and glasses of wine danced behind her lids. But by the third… she heard footsteps. Trust Loker to choose that minute – when she was mentally calculating the chances of comfortably fitting two adults in Cal's tub – to breeze through her doorway and catch her off guard.
"Bad time?" he greeted, not even bothering to wait for her reply before plopping himself into her guest chair with a Lightman-esque flair and slapping a moderately sized client file on her desk with a sigh. Gillian knew that file well. She knew why he'd brought it to her, and what he was likely about to say. So, she scooped up spoonful number four and sat back to wait for his… pitch.
The Harris case had been on the books for a few weeks, and as far as she could tell, it was completely standard – just a typical round of employee vetting and some additional background checks. It was short, sweet, and well within Loker's wheelhouse. She wasn't worried at all.
The 'pitch' part, though, came from the fact that Eli Loker was no fool – as far as he was concerned, their short, sweet, straightforward case was already his. He'd done the prep work. He'd spoken to the clients. And he was sick and tired of never getting the chance to fly solo.
(No, the man definitely wasn't lacking in the self-confidence department.)
He spent a full five minutes pitching the hell out of himself, his education, and the fact that he knew Lightman's science like the back of his hand. And Gillian listened. Really listened. She saw his genuine enthusiasm… remembered Cal's emphatic "Loker's getting a raise" declaration… decided that yes, this would be the perfect opportunity to let him test his wings. Trouble was, it was hard to actually say any of that around mouthfuls of pudding.
So she didn't.
She let him do all the talking instead.
"I can handle this," he insisted. "You know I can."
And yes, of course he could. But he didn't give her the chance to do anything other than nod before he began flipping through the file and gesturing emphatically. He wasn't being rude – not even close, actually – but he was being persistent. Cal would've been proud.
(Come to think of it, neither man had ever been lacking in the self-confidence department.)
"The Harris family has more money than any of us will ever see in five lifetimes," he continued, "and I'm telling you, all they really want is an audience. They want to buy our undivided attention. They want us to come into their million dollar home, sit on their ugly, antique furniture, and look down upon their "staff." Face it, Foster – they want to pay us to make their employees feel inferior. To shake their closets until every last skeleton tumbles out and lands right in the middle of their marble-tiled floors."
It wasn't the first time she'd heard him use that kind of tone when dealing with a wealthy client – which was, coincidentally, the entire reason Cal didn't think he was ready to fly solo yet. Educationally, Loker was at the top of his field. Training wise, he'd run the gamut. But his personality? That needed some work. It needed… honing… lest he walk right into the Harris family's "million dollar home" with its "ugly, antique furniture" and wind up blowing the whole deal before the first interview even got underway.
Lucky for him, though, she was feeling generous.
"That's borderline hostility, laced with absolute truth and served with a side of ego," she said lightly, trying to use a friendly tone to counter the semi-intentional sting behind her words. Generosity was all well and good, but she was his boss. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing wrong with teaching him a lesson in humility while also helping him earn his stripes.
Right?
In any case, it worked. He gave a tiny frown, shook his head as if to clear the mental cobwebs, and then tried to backpedal. "I just meant… I can handle it. That's all."
"I know you can," she countered, enjoying the brief expression of genuine surprise that flashed across his face before he managed to hide it. "And Lightman knows you can, too. That's why we both agreed to give you the reins on this one. You steer. I'll ride shotgun. Fair enough?"
"Tell you what, love? You handle the insurance audit and that appointment with the Harris family, and I'll handle everything else. Embezzlement cases, employee negligence, and all of those pesky… interruptions. Deal?"
Cal grinned and tightened his grip on the steering wheel as the memory of his morning conversation with Gillian replayed itself in his head. As far as he was concerned, everything was falling perfectly into place. He'd knocked out the embezzlement case after just one short hour of questioning, was running early for his next appointment, and had plenty of time to put the groundwork for 'Operation No Interruptions' into motion by mid-afternoon.
Most times, he was in his element with complex cases and he found himself easily bored by generic, cookie-cutter ones that hinged on low level science. He liked to be challenged. To exercise that "big brain" of his in ways that did not involve cheating spouse accusations, or wealthy wankers looking for alternative avenues through which to flaunt their cash. But this time – when everything in his personal life seemed to be slipping into perfect alignment – Cal was grateful for the simplicity.
That's not to say he was bored, though. He wasn't. In fact, his second client of the day – the case of a long haul trucker who'd overturned a tanker filled with diesel fuel and nearly crushed three other oncoming vehicles – was anything but dull. It's just that… well, it was already Wednesday afternoon, and if he had any hopes of actually getting all of his ducks aligned by Friday evening, then he needed everything to run smoothly.
Oh, Gillian had no idea what he was planning. And even if she did suspect something, she surely had no bloody clue that it involved legwork, or visits with an old friend, or logistical maneuvers that he hoped – mightily – would lead to one of the most fantastic weekends they'd had in… forever.
Grand, romantic gestures with rose petals and fairytales and unicorn wings weren't his style, but this? He could definitely handle this.
And he was practically counting the minutes until Friday night.
So, after arriving at the office of client number two with a small chunk of time to spare, Cal said a quick thank-you to whatever deity had currently been put in charge of traffic, dialed his old friend John, and hoped that everything else would fall in line as smoothly as his morning already had.
"Yeah mate, it's me, Cal," he greeted. "Was hoping you might be able to get away for a bit this afternoon. Won't take long, it's just… well, I was thinking… the last time we spoke, you made a rather generous offer. And I was hoping it still stood."
"When you said 'I'll ride shotgun,' Foster… I was thinking you meant in the 'car' sense, too," Loker mused.
He was pouting. Apparently, all men thought that just because they were born with a penis, they were entitled to always be behind the wheel, rather than seated in across from it. With Alec, she'd found it infuriating. With Cal, she found it silly. And with Loker?
Well… it was a cross between the two.
Opting to ignore his comment completely, Gillian changed the subject. "Tell me about the Harris family," she started. "How many interviews are we talking about, anyway? A few nannies, a private chef, and two assistants?"
That's right: the Harris family had hired them to vet an entire household staff – including questions about finances, religious beliefs, and a host of other things that bordered on absurdity – all because of one prior bad experience with a tabloid leak and a drunken karaoke performance at a holiday party. And while Gillian understood the fact that they were a high profile political couple with impressionable young children, it wasn't as though any real harm had ever been done.
So what if the city's average Joe knew that Mrs. Harris gained ten pounds, or that Mr. Harris liked to listen to heavy metal music and dance through the house in his bathrobe? That was normal. And wasn't normal supposed to be a good thing? No, this wasn't some rogue group of nannies who fed the kids chocolate covered cockroaches for breakfast, or taught them how to smoke cigars during naptime. It was one young, twenty year old nanny who'd made a casual comment to someone she'd assumed was a family friend, and one personal chef who'd caught his boss absolutely plastered and singing "Eye of the Tiger" into a carrot microphone, and just-so-happened to snag it on video.
Whereas Loker faulted the family for their massive wealth, Gillian took issue with their inability to be grateful for what they already had: a happy marriage, two beautiful, healthy children, and financial security. Shouldn't they have been counting their blessings, rather than looking to prevent another – and this was their term, not hers – "social scandal?"
Loker sighed, still stuck in full blown pout mode. He flipped the case file open for the umpteenth time and said, "Nannies, chefs, and personal trainers. I mean, have you read these questions? It's like… I don't know, it's like they're actually hoping to find that Potential Nanny Number Three or Personal Chef Number Two robbed a bank or sold cocaine. And I don't understand how people who are that well off can also be so determined to find fault with everyone else. I'm telling you… they don't trust anyone, thanks to the Great Carrot Debacle from last Christmas. Just wait. Five bucks says they make us leave our phones in a basket by the front door."
Gillian had been planning to say something… supportive. She wanted to channel Eli's energy into productivity, rather than speculation. But she'd gotten completely distracted by the word "cocaine," and all she could do was nod her head like an idiot and agree with him.
Stupid Alec. Stupid cocaine. Stupid baggage.
"We could always hide them, I guess," Loker said. "We're the experts, right? We could lie our asses off, tell them we didn't even bring cell phones with us, and they'd be none the wiser. That way, if Richard Harris gets trashed and starts singing show tunes into the nearest phallic shaped object, we can get the whole thing on film."
At any other time, Gillian would've laughed. Because Loker – bless his heart – had probably seen the faintest twinges of something flash across her face in response to his cocaine comment, and now he was trying to lighten the mood. To make her feel better, even though he didn't fully understand why she needed to feel better. And she appreciated it. Really, she did. It's just… she wasn't in a laughing kind of place, yet.
At least not with anyone who wasn't Cal.
So instead, she gave him a sincere smile and opted for a deflection. "Tell you what… I'm good for general small talk and case-related flirting, if necessary. Aside from that, this one is all yours. You won't hear a peep out of me during the entire visit. I'm serious, Loker. I don't care if Richard Harris sings the entire score of Phantom of the Opera into a potato peeler while standing on his head. Not one peep."
Was it the most eloquent thing she'd ever said? No, not even close. But it did seem to break the tension, and she had to admit… the mental image of drunken, upside down karaoke was a pretty good one. She'd take it. In fact, she felt a bit better already.
As they pulled up to the security gate, Gillian pressed the buzzer and waited to be cleared for entrance while Loker gave her an expression she couldn't quite read. It was smug arrogance – kind of like a little kid's "I've-got-a-secret!" face, mixed with something decidedly… friendlier. In a totally platonic, boss-employee, appropriately supportive kind of way.
"Case-related flirting?" he repeated. "Don't know if that's the wisest plan, Foster. Your other half has already broken one man's nose this week… I'm not sure his heart could take it if he knew you were out here flirting it up with some millionaire without him on the sidelines to chaperone."
Other half.
Yes, Eli Loker had just referred to Cal Lightman as her "other half," and the crazy part was… it did not make her feel guilty or annoyed or embarrassed in any way at all. Instead, she felt happy. She loved Cal, and Cal loved her, and the fact that they were finally able to let people see it made her feel like she could conquer anything. From self-centered millionaires, to failed adoptions, to the oppressive shadow of Alec's drug addiction – in that moment, as she listened to someone else give a nutshell version of her romantic life, Gillian felt relieved.
She didn't need to hide anything anymore. Not her emotions… not her past… and not herself.
When the security gate opened, she pulled through it without a care in the world. "Thanks to whatever happened with Alec yesterday," she said casually, "Cal already wants to give you a raise. And I, for one, think you deserve it. So. On the miniscule chance that Richard and Victoria Harris are even bigger… well, wankers… than you think they are, or if my case-related flirting gets misinterpreted in any way, then I'll trust you to break some noses in his absence. Deal?"
"Deal," he immediately agreed.
"And let's face it, Eli – if we ever need to tell Lightman that you did something like that, just to defend me? He'd probably throw in an extra week of vacation time and some state-of-the-art surveillance gear, too. So it's a win-win, really. Because something tells me that deep down… there's a part of you that wouldn't mind knocking one of these rich guys flat on his ass. Right?"
A moment later they were already out of the car and making their way through the front garden, past the giant white columns that adorned either side of the front door, and waiting to be greeted by Butler Number One. It was pretentious, snobbish, and exactly what she'd expected to find. Nothing more… nothing less.
Just before they stepped inside, Loker poked her in the ribs with his elbow and whispered under his breath. "To hell with just one of them," he quipped. "I wouldn't mind taking all of them down a peg or two."
A/N: Up next, the majority of Cal's plan gets revealed, we meet his friend John, and get a tiny glimpse into the early years of Cal and Gillian's friendship. I'm slowly tying it together, I promise... and yes, this Harris case connects to something that's coming up soon. Next chapter is nearly finished. Stay tuned!
