Hello all!

First and foremost, welcome to the people I've been adding this and other stories of mine to their favourites and showed interest in following. ( I won't call you out by name but you know who you are eh eh). I hope to also see you leaving some reviews here and there, whether you like the story or not; I like the idea of a bit of a community around here!

Speaking of community, Eteri where are you?!

Now, onto the new chapter. I like to think some recurring themes will start here but I'll let you be the judge of that.

Reynolds did call it in, however they decided to go for a bit of a half-way.

Under request of the Bureau, the local police came to check and secure the scene and agreed to keep it under wraps for the time being. Reynolds and Foster were calling in personal favours, plus the Lightman Group had a renewed good relationship with them and everybody seemed to be on board with the story she offered for the time being.

Part of her wanted to stay and see what they would find, but her main concern was Cal's safety and wellbeing and once Reynolds honestly explained to her that it would take time to process the scene and any findings there she decided that the best thing to do was to go back to the office.

By the time she got there with Torres in tow, the look at the still empty parking in the early Saturday morning flagged a thought in her mind. Most of the employees were not required to be in the office on Saturday but some came anyway, to work on some research or perhaps to take advantage of the facilities and equipment for their personal training and learning. However, with the way things were unfolding it might have been best to keep the office as clear as possible.

Torres had been quiet since they left Cal's place, which Gillian was inclined to see as vindication: clearly, seeing the scene in the bathroom had put things into perspective for the younger woman. She had no intention of going back to that, as far as she was concerned the matter of Cal's outburst was done and dealt with, and obviously there were more pressing issues to address.

They entered the office, still mostly dark and silent, and had to go all the way to the small waiting room before Cal's office to find Loker, fighting to keep his head up against sleep.

"Loker, wake up." Foster was gentle with him as she woke him up, giving him time to focus on them before carrying on. "Where is Cal? Everything ok?"

"Yeah, uh-" A huge and loud yawn came up unannounced and he smirked. "Sorry! Uh, I fixed him the best I could, gave him a glass of scotch and then he fell asleep." Gillian nodded, grateful. "Did you find something?"

There was a quick look between the two women, both of them recalling images of the bathroom in their minds, then Gillian sighed and leaned on the closed door of the office.

"He was attacked there, no doubt about it. Reynolds is still there, coordinating with the police."

"The police?"

He seemed surprised, and with reasons to some degree. Lightman was no stranger to getting himself in trouble and he frequently combined that with trying to keep people in the dark. Sure, he hadn't been at his place to call the shots with Reynolds but it was still unusual to see they weren't going to keep it under wraps.

"Yes, they are going to see if they can find any prints or anything useful."

They have to, Gillian thought as she pondered Torres' words. All that mess, all that blood…they must find something!

"Did he say anything?" She asked instead, now glancing at the door behind her. "Before he fell asleep?"

"It was mumbling, mostly. About someone being back."

Gillian nodded to herself at those words, not surprised but still trying to figure out her next move. Then she sighed again and addressed the two employees with a steady voice that betrayed no emotions besides determination and resolution.

"I'll be sending out a message to everybody, telling them not to come in today." They took in the information, not sure however what to make of it. "Have some coffee, or try to get some rest. I think that's all we can do for now."

That said she turned around, in her mind having dismissed them clearly and politely enough and ready to open the door. She had to see Cal, to wake him up if need be and talk to him, but Torres had something else on her mind.

"Do you know who he's talking about?" She asked, and Gillian bit at her bottom lip before turning around with a hard glare. "This person, who's back?"

"I'll go check on him." She said simply, intentionally ignoring the question. "Let me know when Reynolds arrives."

"Oh so as usual is need to know basis!" Torres scoffed with a knowing nod. "And we didn't make the cut."

"I don't know who he's talking about, Torres." Gillian shot back, a bit uncharacteristically but somewhat understandably. "Now if you let me go speak with him I might just find out."

That said she turned around again and opened the door, going through with no intention to further engage in the conversation and ignoring Torres' irritated mumbling. The lights in the office were off and the only light was coming from the windows, but she could see Cal well enough, laying on his side on the couch and in an almost foetal position. She tried her best to not wake him up suddenly, carefully approaching and putting on the floor the small duffle back she had brought from the house, then she sat on the coffee table and studied his face. Loker had done a good job, the wounds and cuts had been cleaned out nicely and Gillian was relieved to see that after the treatment it didn't look as bad as before. Still, it was hard to reconcile his sleeping face with what she had seen in the bathroom. His left eye was swollen and so was his left cheek, adorned by a big purple bruise; there was a long cut on his forehead and an ugly looking wound on his nose, and while staring at him closely Gillian thought there might be dry blood in his hair. Then there were cuts on his hands, rips in the fabric of what he was wearing and thank God for small favours, Loker had the attention to clean up the blood from his hands and feet.

Gillian was sure there was more, there had to be judging by the bathroom and the way Cal had crawled himself to the office, but she knew she wasn't going to find out until she could talk to him.

"Cal." She whispered his name as softly as she could before touching him, knowing it was probably going to be a rough wake up no matter what. "Cal it's me. Wake up."

Thankfully, he opened his eyes slowly and immediately found her reassuring face, topped with a bit of a smile. That was always a balsam, no matter how dire the situation, and Cal focused on that in order to claw himself out of a sleep that, however resting, had not been a pleasant one.

"How are you feeling? Perhaps we should take you to the hospital." She said then after he had enough time to gather his presence of mind.

"I'm alright, love. Beaten but not defeated." Cal tried his best to brush it off, but when he tried to switch to a seated position the grimace of pain told a different story. Once he was up, ignoring Gillian's disappointed glare at his attempted denial, he grimaced back at her with an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry about before, Gill. I didn't mean to-"

"Don't worry about that, Cal. I know." She smiled a little wider, then sighed and sat next to him. "Besides, we have bigger fish to fry."

He only nodded, still trying to put together the memory of the previous hours and not liking the path he was being shown.

"Where's Reynolds?" He asked then, absently touching the bandage on his forehead until Foster had to stop him from doing that.

"Back at your place, coordinating with the police." Gillian kept her eyes on him ready to pick up disagreement on that, but she saw none and was honestly relieved. Then she changed the subject, pointing at the duffle bag. "I brought you some clothes. Why don't you get changed, then we talk?"

Cal nodded and gave a quick friendly pat to her hand, then stood up. Attempting to would have been more correct, because when he first tested his legs he only managed to get half-way there before losing his balance. Gillian saw it and quickly stood to hold him up, to which he responded with a thankful and ashamed grin. Once he was on his feet and somewhat steady, Cal nodded to her as if to say he could do that and then wobbled over to the library with the bag in his hand. Gillian followed from a short distance, the memories of the way he had melted on the floor a few hours before still very vivid in her mind, then watched him close the door of the adjoining room to get changed.

"I was thinking we should contact the staff," Gillian said then while sitting at the chair behind his desk, her voice high enough for him to hear her on the other side of the door. "I don't know what's going on exactly but I think it's best we don't get anybody else involved."

"That's an idea!" Cal boomed back at her. "What exactly are we going to tell them, love?"

"The truth. That there is a personal situation going on and we will let them know when they can get back to the office."

"A personal situation," he grumbled, then opened the door and stood there with the new set of clothes but still no shoes on. "You believe me then?"

"It's not possible, Cal." She shook her head in honest disbelief, not of him but of the scenario his words had implied. "I can see you mean what you say but…how can it be?"

"I don't know love, but I know what I saw." He waved his hand at his own face. "Didn't do this to myself, you know."

Gillian had to fight back a little shiver and kick out of her mind the scene in the bathroom, then sighed and closed her eyes, shaking her head.

"It's just…I don't understand."

Cal was about to agree and to say he didn't either but that didn't mean that he was wrong, when he caught something in her tired and seemingly defeated expression. He was tired, in pain and could have used some food but the switch in his brain trained to read people's faces was never not on. And yes, there was that damn line between them but under the present circumstances Cal felt more than justified to ignore it. So he stepped closer with an odd limp, he seemed to be discovering new points of pain every time he moved, tilting his head and staring down at her digging for the truth.

"You found something," he said then, and despite his accusatory tone Gillian had to roll her eyes at the spark of excitement she saw in his face. "At my place, something that proves I haven't lost my marbles."

The satisfaction for having uncovered the fact that she was keeping something from him was short lived: as a rule he didn't like to unmask her, but mostly he immediately realised that if she had found something that proved he was right then he didn't want to be right at all. Gillian's face after he spoke, sombre and dark, confirmed all of that with deafening silence and Cal quickly regretted having been so cheerful about it. Then he sighed and stepped closer, leaning on the desk as he stood close to her and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"What is it, love? What did you find?"

Gillian looked up at him and gave him a bittersweet smile, then reached for the back pocket of the pants she was wearing and pulled out something. Cal couldn't see it at first, just that it was a squared thin object, but when she put it on the desk in a proper display he felt a sudden wave of nausea coming up from inside him. He stared down at it in shock and fear, his eyes frantically going from the object to Gillian and back until she had to nod as to confirm it wasn't a joke.

"It was in the kitchen," she explained. "Attached to the fridge."

"Reynolds-"

She shook her head and sighed while leaning back on the chair, not liking what she was about to confess.

"I didn't tell him. I saw it and I just took it."

"You did the right thing, Gill."

"But what now? Cal," she stood up suddenly and started to nervously pace the space between them. "What is this, really? What are we going to do?"

"First, I'm gonna call my daughter," Cal mumbled, staring at the countless pictures of Emily lined up by the window. Gillian smiled softly and squeezed his shoulder, touched by the fact that someone usually always strong like him would always find solace in hearing the voice of his little girl. Then he shook himself out of that soothing thought and looked at her, far more serious and less dreamy than a second before. "Then I think we might have some explaining to do."