Disclaimer: I do not own Lie To Me*. Never have, never will. I'm writing for fun and therapy from unresolved show traumas.
Summary: An AU fork in the road type fic, picking up during the Season 1 episode "Blinded", what if Cal had made a discovery during that episode that changed the course of his relationship with Gillian. (this was a working title that I just didn't change. Actually, this is a work in progress that I just didn't work on)
A/N: there is at least one AU fic out there for Blinded and one for Sacrifice, and both are quite decent if I recall (particularly the one for Sacrifice), but it's one of those points in the show that I have my own series of "what if" moments for that I just felt like exploring while distracting myself from my other LTM fic universes. There are a few more like this in my head that other people have tackled far better than I ever could. But this one just got written while I was supposed to be writing other things. I haven't even proof read it to be honest. It really felt to me like this was one of those turning points in the show where their feelings for each other became glaringly obvious. So what if they weren't such a pair of dummies, eh? finally, just an observance; Cal was a much nicer person in Season 1. even thoguh he was still Cal. I think in my post season 3 fics, I'm always trying to recapture the essense of season 1 Cal.
Blinded Sacrifice
Chapter 1 - Blinded
Ben Reynolds chased Foster's attacker for about two blocks, until he lost sight of the man. Ben was fit, he had to be, but even so he had to take a moment to catch his breath once he realised that the assailant was beyond his reach. Once he got his bearings, he remembered Lightman and looked around to see where he was. There was no sight of the man. He thought maybe the scientist had gone another route to cut off their suspect, but the streets were silent, and he figured that his new British acquaintance seemed more or less able to handle himself. He'd find him eventually, and maybe Lightman would have better luck in catching the guy.
Then he remembered the entire reason for their panicked arrival. Foster. In his haste to hunt down her attacker, Reynolds had forgotten all about her laying prone on the street outside the young victim's home. He broke into a jog to get back to where they had started. As he did, he listened out for signs that the attacker may have doubled back. He thought about the panic, readable even to an amateur like him, on Lightman's face as they headed from his offices upon hearing Jenkin's insinuation about the copycat's next target.
Lightman had turned blinkered focus towards one thought only. His colleague. He moved from his lab at speed, but once out of sight of Jenkins he was like a bat out of hell.
At full running speed the man started firing demands at him.
"Where's your car?"
"Mine?"
"Yes, Reynolds, yours. Where's your car? I'm not driving, yours is definitely faster and you can break traffic lights if you want to."
"Lightman, he's screwin' with you."
"If there is even a chance that he's sent that bastard after my friend, we are going to find out. Alright? Now move."
"Do we even know where we're going?"
"I'll call my assistant from the car, now get a move on."
No matter how fast Reynolds moved, it wasn't fast enough for Cal Lightman.
Thinking about it, it was no real surprise when he arrived back to the scene of the crime to find Lightman sitting on the ground, back leaning against Foster's car, with the woman in question cradled in his lap as he held her with a gentleness that he wouldn't have previously believed the man capable of. He was whispering to her, soothing her, all the while taking every opportunity to brush his cheek softly against the top of her head, stroking back her hair with impossibly caring fingers, making jokes to her – he presumed so anyway, given how he was getting the occasional hiccupping laugh from her, causing him to smile and look at her with adoration that was clear even through the worry – and carefully tending to her cuts and bruises.
Upon hearing Ben's footsteps, Foster tensed up in his lap and Lightman looked up while clutching her tighter to him. Lightman obviously noticed that Ben was alone, rather than hauling a man he'd very much like to beat to a pulp with him.
"No joy then?" he asked.
Still slightly breathless, Ben shook his head in the negative.
Cal nudged Foster and they both began to rise from their spot on the ground, neither seeming at all self-conscious about the position they'd been caught in. Ben thought it odd. He had noticed the ring on Foster's hand nearly as soon as they met. Had looked for it in fact. Lightman wore no ring. They seemed awfully close in this moment for two colleagues, one married and not to the other. He shrugged it off for later contemplation.
Lightman checked briefly that Foster was capable of standing on her own two feet, then took her purse from her without asking. She offered no complaint. She didn't even hesitate or ask what he wanted it for. He left her leaning against her car and approached Reynolds.
Speaking quietly in the cool night air, Cal laid out his directions to Reynolds as he was so fond of doing it seemed. "Get a car out here to watch the house. We better check in on Natalie too; no doubt she heard all this and she's scared out of her mind sitting in there," he said, nodding towards the house.
"I should be the one to check on her."
The shaky voice came from behind Cal, and both men turned to look at her.
"You should be the one to go to a hospital," came the retort from Lightman as his finally dug out her car keys from her bag, and then when she opened her mouth to argue, "Don't, Gill. Don't argue with me on this. We're going to the emergency department," he held the keys up, dangling them from his fingers to reiterate the point as he pressed the button to unlock the car.
"You really think she's going to open the door to a man right now?"
She had him there. "Ok, fine. You go tell her that everything's going to be fine, that the cops are going to watch the house just to be safe, and that Agent Reynolds here is sticking around until they get here. Then, we go to the hospital." His compromise was set with the re-locking of her car.
Reynolds was mesmerised by the familiarity between them, until he realised what Lightman was suggesting. "What? Wait, no way. I don't have time to be hanging around here, we have work to do. We call an ambulance for Foster, you and I go back to talk to Jenkins, Foster hangs with Natalie waiting for the ambulance to arrive, by which time the car will be here."
Foster and Lightman were nodding along with his suggestions as he laid out his plan. When he finished, Gillian began to move until Lightman, still nodding, said "Absolutely not."
"Cal, it makes sense."
"Oh what? So you can just tell the ambulance you're fine and then drive yourself back to the office as soon as they bugger off?"
The notion sounded ridiculous to Reynolds, and he was about to say as much until he caught sight of Fosters guilty look. He raised an involuntary eyebrow and found himself continuously both impressed and flummoxed by this group he was lumbered with.
"Ok. Fine. We do this your way."
Gillian hated Cal driving her car. He was so careless with everything, and she loved her Volvo. Tonight though, he was driving like he was in a funeral procession. Careful of every bump on the road, constantly below the speed limit, stopping at every amber turning light. And she was rattled. She couldn't take her eyes of him. Just the knowledge that he was there with her was a comfort. Cal could always make her feel safe when that's what she needed. The rest of the time, he made her feel anxious, frustrated, worried, and far more than she was willing to admit, he made her feel amused and carefree in her best and worst moments.
Feeling her persistent stare, Cal eventually turned to look at her when they stopped at a red light. She never broke her gaze as he looked her up and down, checking as best he could if she was ok. He could see the pain in her face and in her posture, despite her best efforts to hide it.
"Are you really ok?" he asked.
She nodded and gave a pinch of a smile.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sore, and scared. But I'm fine. I'm glad you're here."
Silence filled the car for a few long seconds. A glow of green rained down and Cal looked up to see the traffic light had changed. He began to drive again as he thought about her words. About how it made him feel to hear her tell him that she was glad to have him with her. The panic he felt when he realised what Jenkins was implying. The sheer terror that filled his every muscle when he saw her attacked, just as they had arrived. The flurry of emotions that overwhelmed him as he allowed himself to take care of her and realised that for once she was allowing him to do it.
He couldn't process it all. So, he defaulted to the line of respect. Where he didn't allow himself to feel what lay beneath the surface when he thought about her. Where she didn't want him looking over the wall between them to see how she felt. Didn't want him interfering in case he saw something that became too tempting to ignore. Six years. That line was getting thinner by the day, and the thinner it got the more she insisted on its existence. We don't read colleagues. Not unless they want us to see it. Not unless they want us to intervene.
Right then. Back to safety. "Do you want me to call Alec for ya?"
From his peripheral view, he could see her head snap back to his face from where she had begun to look out the car window. That was odd. This should be the safe zone. Where he acknowledged that her husband existed without calling him a tosser. She was hurt, he had been with her the entire time and he knew that she hadn't called him. Seemed obvious that he should offer to call. Unless he had accidentally called him a pratt in his vocal tones again…
"No. Thanks," she replied after a short beat.
She was no doubt assessing his intentions when he asked. He risked a quick glance at her face and returned attention to the road ahead quickly. The last thing he wanted was to cause an accident with her already hurt.
She must have taken his glance for curiosity. A question in his mind. "He's out of town. Work trip."
Cal was no voice expert, but that didn't sound like the full truth to his ears. He let it go with a nod of agreement, and kept on driving.
When they arrived at the hospital, Cal parked the car and insisted on walking her inside. She was sure he was only doing it for fear that she would try to escape. He kept brushing his hand against her arm, her uninjured shoulder, the small of her back. It was distracting, so eventually she just pushed him playfully away. He laughed, but he got the message. She was fine. At least she was fine enough that she no longer needed the comfort of his touch. He ignored the fact that he needed the comfort of touching her.
They signed her in at the reception desk and, to both their surprise, a doctor was called over straight away.
"Dr Foster. Hi. The FBI called ahead to let us know you were coming. Follow me, please?"
Gillian, much to Cal's amusement, looked mortified.
"Dr Lightman?"
"That's me."
"We're going to assess Dr Foster and we'll be taking her for a few scans too. We'll have to ask you to wait in the waiting room."
Gillian could see the protest about to burst from her partner. She fought down a smile and turned to him, stepping between him and the Doctor. She placed a gentle hand on his bicep to stop his impending outburst, and then when she had garnered his attention, she moved that same hand to rest on his chest.
"I'm ok, Cal. I'll be fine," she spoke in that almost coo-ing voice she used that she knew he could never say no to. Nonetheless she could see his attempt to argue coming, so she spoke again without really thinking about the consequences. "I could use a change of clothes though. Once they get done with me, this'll be tough to put back on. And It's kind of uncomfortable. Would you mind? Something easy to fasten, maybe?"
She gave him a mission. A distraction. And he knew it. But he also knew that she was right. She needed something to change into when she was done. As much to distance herself mentally from what had happened as for the need for easier fitting clothes.
With a final up and down look, he reached up and squeezed the hand she held still over his heart. He made sure to read her face to assure himself that she was really ok. She was still quite shaken, but once Gillian went into problem solving mode she had a remarkable ability to lock down her own emotions. Years of work as a therapist meant she had to perfect that skill, and he was grateful that she possessed it now.
"Ok," he whispered to her as he released her hand in favor of moving in to wrap a tentative arm around her waist. When she returned the hug he leaned in, kissing her cheek, and delighted as always that she returned the gesture with nothing but trust and affection. He stepped back from the brief contact and with a final squeeze of her hand said, "Won't be long", as he moved away. Before he turned he made sure to throw a slightly threatening look in the direction of the doctor wating patiently by.
Cal disconnected the call from Torres and replaced the phone in his pocket. Gillian could see that his anger was genuine, but it dissipated so quickly that she knew he wasn't nearly as angry with the young woman as he portrayed on the phone.
He turned his attention back to Gillian straight away and his gaze turned soft again. He smiled at her and returned his hand to her uninjured shoulder, rubbing there lightly.
"Go. I'm fine."
He nodded and took a short deep breath, releasing it almost at once.
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Promise. They just have to come back to give me the all clear and a prescription for painkillers and I'm all set."
"And then you go home, yeah?"
She gave him an incredulous look.
"Of course not, what was I thinking," he gave her a wry smile and turned serious again.
"You need help getting dressed?", he asked with a gesture towards the clothes he had given the nurse to bring in to her when he had come back and they weren't yet willing to allow him in to see her.
She raised an eyebrow at him and gave him a half smile, calling him out on his usual nature.
"What!?"
She smiled fully at him then and ducked her head in a laugh before looking back. "No, thanks. The nurse said she'd help."
He continued to stare at her. He wanted to say something else. She knew he did. But she was tired, and she wanted him to focus on this case so that the man that attacked her could never attack another woman again.
"I'll see you at the office later."
"I've got your car, Foster."
"I'll take a cab. It's not like I'll be able to drive anyway," she gestured to her injured shoulder with her good hand.
He nodded once more, and then seemingly unable to stop himself he leaned into her and placed a lingering kiss on her hairline and murmured, almost to himself, "you scared the bloody daylights out of me tonight, Foster."
When he broke contact he didn't look at her. Instead he turned immediately and moved to the door, calling over his shoulder, "I'll see you at work then, Dr Foster."
Cal left Ben standing in the doorway to his office and made his way to Gillian's. He stood in the hallway watching her through the glass walls of her sanctuary. After a few minutes, Reynolds strolled by, stopping briefly on his way out.
"She gonna be ok?" he asked in a quite voice, so as not to disturb the peaceful scene.
"Tough as nails, that one," Lightman replied with pride evident.
Reynolds smiled, let out a chuckle with an almost fond shake of his head, and continued on his way, leaving the Englishman to marvel at the thoughts of his business partner and her toughness.
With Reynolds gone, Cal walked slowly towards his partner. He knocked lightly on the door – a rarity for him – so as not to startle her too much, and when she looked over he opened it and stepped inside.
He paused just inside the door, taking in the sight of her. Her bruised face was beginning to swell a little. Her eyes dull with exhaustion and painkillers. Her posture was tight and stiff, in noticeable contrast to her usual perfectly straight back and loose muscles. There were bags under her eyes, the corners of her mouth pinched even through her smile at the sight of him.
"Come on you, let's get you home," he offered.
She shook her head, brushing off the suggestion. "I really want to get this report finished and sent off. I have a feeling I'll feel considerably worse by tomorrow."
"You will. No doubt about it. Come on, love. Tea, painkillers, and bed. In that order."
"Cal, I don't want to-"
"How long is he gone for?"
"Pardon?
"Your husband", Cal clarified. He almost never refered to Alec by name if he could avoid it. Always 'your husband'. She was never sure if it was meant to dehumanise Alec or distance himself.
"A few weeks," she conceded. "He's been gone for a week and a half. Back in another two or thereabouts."
Cal walked towards her, staring at her in that way that told her he was desperately trying to read her when he knew he wasn't supposed to. He rounded the desk to her side and perched himself on the edge. She turned back to her computer screen and he leaned over her back to take the mouse, her hand still on it, his on top of hers. She froze and watched as he moved the cursor to the save icon and pressed both of their index fingers down. She swallowed audibly and cringed internally at the vulnerable display of emotion that she was sure he saw. He leaned his head in towards hers and brushed his nose against her head, then pressed in more to rest his cheek every so briefly against her. He straightened up then, leaning once more against the edge of her desk. He was acting very clingy. Uncharacteristically so, and she knew it was because of what had happened tonight, but his timing was incredible.
Knowing when she was beat, she closed the file and went about shutting down the machine. Turning in her seat she found herself face to face with him in close quarters. His look of concentrated worry, directed solely at her, caught her off guard. As he looked at her face, the nasty bruise on her jaw caught his attention once more. It was getting worse every time he saw her.
Without thinking he reached his fingertips out to caress the mottled marks. She gasped almost imperceptibly and closed her eyes at the unexpected intimacy, hoping he mistook it for pain.
"You can stay at mine, if you want."
"I don't think that's a great idea," she said, risking a side eyed glance his way.
"Gill… when I went to pick up your clothes…"
She leaned back in her chair and attempted to cross her arms in a chastising gesture, but she moved her shoulder the wrong way and her wince of pain ruined the effect so he powered through.
"I'm not looking to pry. I promise. It's just… well, the bed hadn't been slept in." At her look of indignation he hurried on, "and I thought you might want a few toiletries, you know to freshen up and all."
"So you went snooping."
"Not qu-, no. no. I wouldn't say that," his hand had begun to reach out again, and he barely brushed the back of his fingers against the underside of her chin before catching himself and returning his hand to his own leg. "All of your things are in the spare bedroom en suite, Gill."
She raised her chin, defiant, but still her eyes couldn't meet his inquisitive stare.
"Is everything ok, darling?" he asked in a whisper, as though keeping a secret for her.
Her chin jutted out just slightly, but her eyes filled and she blinked away the tears.
"Everything is fine. Finally."
He waited, knowing for once that this wasn't his turn to speak.
She swallowed again and met his eyes. "Alec isn't on a work trip," she paused and he wasn't prepared for what came next. "He's in rehab. And I'm moving out."
Cal was stunned. He could count on one hand the number of times he had been rendered utterly speechless, and this was one of them. He was pretty sure that his jaw had comedically dropped with that bombshell.
"It's ok. He's not doing rehab to get me back, I'm not leaving because he had to go to rehab. It's just… how it went. I moved into the spare room a month ago."
"Are you sure? That he's not trying to get you back, I mean?"
"He can try. But I made it very clear when he told me about it that I was still going to be leaving before he gets back."
"Have you got a place sorted?"
"Ah, well, turns out that's not as easy as I thought it would be."
"Well, then you're staying with me. Tonight. And for as long as you need."
"That's a terrible idea."
"I'll help you house hunt."
"That would be nice."
"But you're not staying on your own tonight."
Truth be told, she hadn't really wanted to stay at home. She was still rattled from being attacked, and home just didn't feel like home lately. She had been looking at property listings for a couple of months; at first casually, almost fancifully, and then when she realised that the idea was making her happier she fully accepted that her marriage was over. She started thinking about the future. She was afraid of being alone. She hadn't been alone since she was in college. But when she found herself drifting off, thinking in the abstract about her life beyond the present, she found that Alec was nowhere in those thoughts.
She thought about trying to adopt again, and she realised that when she pictured herself with a child, her husband was never in the frame. Alec was openly against trying again. He thought that their experience with Sophie was symbolic of the end of that journey. He wouldn't consider trying IVF and he wouldn't even talk about the daughter that had been taken so cruelly from them. Wouldn't even mention her in terms of trying again when she tried to bring it up. He wouldn't consider getting a pet, citing his allergies and how much work it would be. If he couldn't manage that, how could she ever think they could manage a baby together. But she could manage all of that on her own. She had been doing most of the work when they had Sophie anyway. And she'd be happier for it.
And so, despite fearing a future alone, she knew that her marriage was over. The problem was, when she did picture her future that didn't include her husband, she still wasn't alone. Someone else, someone she refused to name even in her own mind, was always there. And she just wasn't ready to admit what that meant for her. She knew it was impossible for so many reasons. He would be there as a friend. That was enough. It was better that way.
When Cal insisted that she would not be spending the night alone, she knew that was that. There was no arguing with him. Even if she left and got a cab home, or to a hotel, or wherever, he would follow her. He was intrusive like that, she thought fondly. So he offered her the only choice he was willing to give.
"Your place or mine?" he joked.
She couldn't help but laugh as she ducked her head so he couldn't see her face. Composing herself, she looked up again.
"Yours. Mine doesn't really feel like mine anyway."
His sympathetic blink and half smile should have irritated her. Maybe she was too tired to care. He raised himself up and away from the desk, taking a step away from her and backwards towards the door, he extended his hand to her. She took it and lifted herself from her chair. He dropped their still joined hands between them and tugged slightly as he moved backwards.
"Just let me get my bag, and a few things."
The drive was so quiet that it should have felt tense and awkward. It wasn't. She hadn't shared a comfortable silence with her husband in months. There had been plenty of silence, neither having any desire to fill it, but she had found herself wanting to be anywhere else even long after Alec had up and left to "get some air".
Cal was comfortable. Her best friend and one of her biggest antagonists on occasion. But even so she found that this was comfortable. This was right. And she longed to let him in passed that line drawn in the sand that she insisted upon to protect both of them. The one they all had to respect given what they did for a living. He was as keen on the Line as anyone, especially when it came to other colleagues reading him. But when it came to Gillian, she was always the one to reinforce it between them.
She could never let him fully in. No matter how much she may fantasise about wanting him more integrated in her life. Wanting her life happily embedded with his. There were barriers drawn between them before they had even met. And she couldn't risk losing his trust and endangering his life by opening that can of worms any time soon.
"You ok?" he asked from the driver's seat. "With everything, I mean."
She took a moment to just look at his profile in the low passing streetlights as he kept his focus on the road, only glancing at her sporadically.
"Yeah. I'm ok. Just, thinking. About the future," she finished with a bittersweet smile.
"Big changes coming, eh?"
"Yeah," she said in a breath on top of a laugh. Silence filled the air again and just for something to say, knowing that he wanted more from her she said, "you know I can't even really picture it? Being on my own."
Her words were half-truths meant to lead his thoughts to her life without Alec.
"Been a long time," he smiled with wonder at her, at the changes she was so bravely bringing to her life.
They pulled into his garage and he switched off the engine of the car, but neither made a move to head into the house.
"Do you want me to go and pick up anything for you?"
"No. Thanks. Assuming you have something I can borrow to sleep in?"
"Yeah. Spare toothbrush and all. We'll get you sorted for more stuff tomorrow then."
She didn't respond immediately. She hesitated for a moment, wondering what the right thing to say was. She finally settled on a seeming non-sequitor.
"I have an appointment with my lawyer tomorrow, in the afternoon. And an apartment viewing, after that."
Her words seemed to register with him in a way that she could see he finally understood that this was real. She was leaving her husband. His eyes widened and his brows raised and suddenly he was understanding that things really were changing.
"I'll go with you, if you like."
The look of amusement that silently said 'oh yeah, that'd look real good' forced a clarification from his lips.
"To the apartment, obviously. Not the lawyer," he laughed.
Suddenly the tension that had begun to threaten was dispelled with the levity of the moment. They both moved in unison to exit the car and Gillian froze in pain with a whimper.
"Wait there, I'll come around and get the door for you."
He could be so unbearably charming and chivalrous sometimes, in complete contrast to his usual brashness.
He rounded the back of the car and opened the door as wide as it would go. Swivelling in place to exit the car forced a grimace to her face. Her grunt of pain propelled him forward and he took hold of her unbound arm with one of his hands, placing his other at her hip to allow her to brace her weight on him and lift herself from the car seat.
And once again they were inches apart. His new found knowledge of her impending freedom left him feeling as though he had no need to keep the distance he usually forced between them. It was funny in a way; he always forced the physical distance and she the emotional one. He let her into every facet of his life, and she let him into her space. She put up the barriers when he got too close, never fully allowing him to know her. But it was always he who limited the physical contact. They were both extremely tactile people, but he knew that at some point he would screw up if he let her too close.
He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, taking a second to look her over. She smiled a self-conscious smile, and pressed her hand against his chest, pushing with just enough force to tell him that now wasn't the time.
He backed away and headed towards the house.
"I'll get the spare room made up, you can head into mine and pick out your PJs."
And then he was gone, in a flash. She had to find a way to tell him about the Pentagon. She would have to tell him soon. There was no way this wasn't going to go somewhere that the last barrier between them couldn't be addressed. And she was more terrified of that than of leaving her husband of fourteen years.
She jolted awake in the middle of the night, afraid and confused and crying in agony. Every muscle in her back seemed to be in spasm. So disoriented was she from the fear of her nightmare and the pain in her body, it took her a few moments to remember where she was. The thumping of bare feet in the hallway set her into a panic before she remembered the hours before she went to bed. She had been sleeping in an unfamiliar bed for so long that it took some time to remember that she wasn't sleeping in her own spare bed, but Cal's. His thundering footsteps grew closer and light burst through the doorway at the same moment that he did.
"I'm ok," she cried.
"Sure you are," came his sarcastic retort. He tentatively stepped inside the room and made his way to the en suite bathroom. The adjacent light further flooded the room and now it was bright enough, between the light from the hallway and the light from the bathroom, to see his body. He was at the sink, filling a glass of water and opening her medication. He was barefoot and topless, with baggy black pyjama bottoms clinging low to his hips. This was a terrible idea. She should have stayed at her own place.
He arrived back into the bedroom with each hand full and a determined look on his face. She lay her head back on the pillow and tried to ignore the pain that filled her upper body, her head, her jaw. He seemed to understand that sitting on the side of the bed would not be well received in her current state and he crouched down beside it instead. He put the pills and the water on the bedside table and reached over and around her to move her into a sitting position.
She tried to protest the move, but having lost the fight she accepted that sitting up was actually more comfortable, and she would never have managed it without him.
Once he was satisfied that she wasn't going to fall over, he reached for the glass again and handed it to her. He followed up with the two painkillers and watched like nurse rachet to make sure she took them.
"What time is it?" she asked sheepishly.
"No idea," he replied. "Still dark o'clock."
"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"
"You did. Lucky enough. Otherwise you'd still be flailing about like a discombobulated turtle right now."
Despite herself, she laughed. She immediately regretted it when the shock of pain flew through her and she shifted to allow her legs to leave the mattress and rest on the floor. He shifted just enough to give her space and suddenly she wished she had opted for a pair of sweatpants rather than his draw string gym shorts that she knew he never used. Didn't understand why he even had them. His hand came to rest on her knee and he didn't seem to notice the implied intimacy of the gesture so she tried her best to ignore it.
"Do you want to get up?" he asked.
She shook her head and took a breath. She did want to get up, but she knew if she did he would join her. She didn't want to disturb his sleep any more than she already had.
"Right. Cup of tea?"
"Is that your answer to everything?" she asked with bemused fondness.
"Now you listen to me. There is nothing that can't be solved with a good cup of tea."
"Go back to bed, Cal."
"You first," he said as he squeezed his hand tighter around her knee and began to run his hand up towards her thigh. At the last second he seemed to realise what he was doing, noticing for the first time her bare leg and he released his hold on her and rested the hand against the mattress she sat upon.
Her gaze was transfixed on the spot where his hand last touched her.
"I think I might go get that cup of tea, actually."
"Will you stop that?" she begged.
"Stop what?"
"You're staring at me."
"Just making sure you're not going to break, that's all" he joked.
Her look told him that although she was slightly amused, she didn't want to be.
"You just scared me today, that's all. I'll be glad to have Reynolds around full time."
"Really?" she could barely believe what she was hearing.
"Yeah. If not for him, god know what would have happened."
She smiled indulgently at him. She wasn't used to this version of him. All worried and off balance. "You would have been there."
His face told her that he wasn't so sure. Then he shook it off and went on, "It'll be handy to have someone around with access to all that FBI info."
"That's true. Assuming they let us have it, and not a redacted version of it. Assuming they don't feed us a pack of lies and try to manipulate us into doing what they want without regard for the truth."
"You really don't trust the feds, do you?"
"No. In my experience government agencies don't want the unfiltered truth to get out. Too many consequences."
"But you think sometimes that's necessary."
"I do. I don't have to like it, but it's a fact. Sometimes the truth does more harm than good."
She forced herself to drain her mug to disguise her rambling thoughts. When she set it back down on the table, she stood up and was pleased to notice that those painkillers had not only worked in loosening her muscles but made her just drowsy enough that she felt she might sleep again.
Cal got the hint and took their mugs to the kitchen, dumping them in the sink carelessly and following her back up the stairs.
"You be alright then?" he asked when they reached the top.
She nodded her gratitude with a smile and leaned towards him to brush her hand delicately over his shoulder, silently thankful again that he had put on a soft cotton t-shirt while the tea was brewing. "Of course. Thanks, again. For… well, everything tonight."
"Nonsense. If it weren't for me he never would have gone after you."
"He would have. Besides, I'm the one who let him know where I was going. I put Natalie at risk."
"Hey! Enough of that. You did no such thing. We all could have handled this one a bit better, I think. But you did absolutely nothing to endanger anyone. You helped both of them. And you managed to find the copycat, even if it was an accident."
His joke settled her guilt and her nerves. Offering one last caress to his shoulder, unable to tear her eyes away from the spot where her hand lay, she stepped back and whispered, "Good night, Cal."
He watched her until the door closed behind her, then made his way to his own bed. Tonight was a hell of a lot to process.
Gillian walked into Cal's office looking drained and feeling worse.
"How was the lawyers?"
"Fine," she shook her head dismissively. "She thinks I'll have a good chance at a quick divorce and a clean split of assets. He didn't invest in the business when we started, so he'll have no right to any shares, I don't want anything of his, we've been sleeping in separate rooms so they can argue to backdate the separation… it's looking good. We just have to wait and see what his lawyers come back with."
"Great. That's good. Want to go apartment shopping?"
Her returning smile was two parts nerves and one part excitement.
They wandered through the small rooms slowly and casually, the real estate agent always half a room ahead of them gesticulating wildly with false enthusiasm. Cal grabbed the hemline of her loose fitting blouse and tugged lightly to stop her from moving into back into the room they had started the tour in. she turned to face him with curiosity lighting her face.
"This," he gestured around vaguely, "isn't you, Foster."
She raised her shoulders as though she were about to offer another opinion and just as quickly dropped them. "No. It's really not. But, this is the fifth place I've viewed in two weeks. And it's… clean. It's… fine. Good neighbourhood. Parking. Access to… whatever. I hate it."
"Let's go. You can stay at mine for as long as you need."
"I'm not staying at yours for as long as I need. Thanks, but I need to find a place. Something that's just mine."
"You are loving the idea of this aren't you? I mean, even just a little. The freedom. You're excited."
"A little. Maybe," she conceded. "But I'm also just trying my best not to focus on the really scary parts. And I guess, as soon as I sign a lease or a mortgage… there's no going back, you know? I can't back out of it once that's done."
He understood then why she was so hurried to find a place to live. If she didn't have something when Alec came back, well, Gillian's nature made her want to take care of people. And Alec was a master at making her feel obligated to him. He liked the idea of having her stay for a while, but knowing now what she was thinking he decided he would help her find the best place possible and quickly. If she found a place that she loved, she'd definitely leave the pillock.
"What about this?"
She leaned over the small diner table to look at the listing on his phone.
"I hate it."
She took the phone from his hand and navigated the page. She loved her Blackberry, but she had to admit that this iPhone he had gotten was very convenient.
"This?" she asked his opinion.
"Fancy."
"Economy's trash right now, prices are plummeting. Might be able to afford it."
"Let's have a look then."
The small Georgian townhouse in the outskirts of DC was perfect. Everything about it screamed 'Gillian Foster'. For the first time, Gillian really liked the thought of being on her own. Alec would never live here. She loved it though.
She looked at Cal and his abstract smile told her that he could already picture her living here, even with the décor that was very not her.
They left the cosy little home leaving no doubt that she was putting in an offer. It was for sale, not rent, so it would take a lot longer to get anywhere and there was no guarantee that she would get it, but for the first time in months Gillian felt optimistic.
She began the process of applying to the bank, and with their assets the bank saw no issues even though she would have to go through weeks of checks before it would go through. She would keep looking, just in case it fell through, but she began planning to pack up her things and arrange for temporary storage. She had no intention of clearing out the house, Alec could keep all the big stuff, but she did have things that were hers and hers alone. She would have them gone before he got back.
A couple of weeks passed and Gillian knew she would be gone by the time Alec got home. She was grateful to Cal for his support. She knew that if not for him, she would still be trying to sort it all out. Once she had gotten over the worst of her injuries, she insisted on going back to the house she and Alec had shared for over a decade. She had booked a hotel toom for the night before he was due to get in, but Cal was adamant that she was just wasting money. She had most of her things boxed up and he had volunteered to store as much as he could for her. In reality there wasn't all that much. She had told him she was renting a storage lot, and he had shown up two nights ago and just started loading boxes into his car. So the night that she told him about the hotel, he stood in the doorway to her office and practically begged her to listen to him.
She won the argument. She didn't want to have to explain to Emily why she was there. She hadn't even been ready to tell Cal, only for fate intervened. She was glad he knew though. The last two weeks had been so much easier just by having him to lean on. But she didn't want to lean too much. It would be far too easy to let him closer than they were ready for. Already he was more relaxed around her. He had stopped even trying to hide it when he watched her, didn't check himself for propriety half as much as he did before he knew. Twice now she had caught him checking out her backside. He used to be so much more subtle. She still had her wedding ring on, and he was edging closer and closer, day by day. She had to keep him at bay. He had enough trust issues as it was, and she could never be fully honest with him.