Hello!

I know this is a tough one, it sure is for Gillian and Cal but stick with me if you can and let me know what you think.

Eteri: you always have the best questions! Thank you for paying attention enough to pick up on this kind of things…

Now, what's next? Reynolds has a plan: will they follow it?

"You can't have it both ways, Cal," Gillian huffed, rolling her eyes while watching him fuss on the stretcher like a baby. "You complain it hurts but you won't let them fix you up. Something's gotta give."

"I've got nothing against them fixing me up, but do they have to hurt me even more while they do that?"

Reynolds was the one rolling his eyes this time, but also couldn't hold back a little chuckle. When Loker had called him with the news of the attack on Lightman the agent had known nearly immediately things were about to get twisted and possibly dark, and after the explanation they had received all his most dire expectations had been confirmed. As serious as the situation was, not to mention enigmatic, a little levity was a welcomed distraction and Lightman and Foster interaction was quite possibly one of the best he could ask for.

Despite having agreed with his plan to pay a visit to the hospital before stopping by with the police, Cal wasn't exactly following it without opposing a bit of trademark resistance. The scientist had thought they would just patch him up, upgrade Loker's handiwork and let him go on his way; but after a while the ER doctor was talking about MRI, x-rays and blood work and Cal most definitely had not the patience for any of that. Not to mention, and Reynolds would recognise that, the one performing the tests on him was a med student who couldn't handle the step from books to real practice.

"Bloody hell!" Cal winced in pain as the young man tried again to find his vein for a IV of fluids, his hand shaking increasingly within every failed attempt.

"You're such a baby," Gillian chuckled, but she also kept holding his hand in a comforting gesture.

"You try that love, see how you like it being endlessly poked with a needle." He scoffed, then glared at the young doctor as he was about to give it another go. "I'll give you one more chance, mate."

The threat didn't help, if anything it only made things worse. The med student was sweating profusely, and he gulped nervously at Lightman's warning before looking up at his senior and begged him for help. Dr Porter sighed and asked one of the nurses to take care of it and make sure the student was paying attention, then addressed Cal directly.

"I really think we should do a head CT, Dr Lightman."

"My head is fine," Cal muttered absently, mesmerised by the easy and painless way the nurse accomplished what the inept student couldn't. Then he nodded over at the discarded syringe of painkillers he had been given. "I'll get some of that to go, thank you."

"Cal, you had your head smashed into a mirror," Gillian reminded him with a soft stern voice, literally like a mother scolding a child for his own good. "A CT probably isn't such a bad idea."

Cal grumbled something and turned to face her, ready to protest and hold his ground. Whatever was going through his mind however, it seemed to melt away the moment he saw her eyes, gently pleading him to be, for once, the one listening and letting other people look after him. His own face softened, his aching body tensed with widespread pain on the hospital stretcher suddenly relaxing under her familiar touch when she placed a hand on top of his.

The initial assessment the doctor had shared with them was that his injuries looked worse than what they really were, nothing too serious but certainly painful for him to keep going about as if it was nothing. Cal would have never admitted to it, although his smirks and moans of pain had not gone unnoticed to those around him, and he knew if there was even the smallest of chances that the Ward scenario was real he had to be at his best. Pain, that he could deal with. Thinking Gillian would hold her breath at his every step and action fearing a collapse of sorts wasn't as easy.

"Ok," he caved eventually, squeezing her hand before turning to Dr Porter. "But let's make it snappy. We have places to be."

The doctor did think about letting him know that there was no guarantee of a speedy execution of the test, but a long look at the trio advised him against it. They were quite the odd company to roll into the ER in the early morning, an FBI agent and two scientists - although he hadn't quite been able to grasp their field - one of them a seriously injured man who didn't seem to want any help. But the federal agent had told him they were going to need a medical report before going to the police, which seemed a very reasonable and legitimate way to operate, so he figured he could call in some favours and speed up the process.

After a couple of calls, Dr Porter confirmed they could take Cal for the scan and instructed Gillian and Reynolds to wait there.

"I'm gonna call the detective, see if they found something at your place," the agent informed Cal while he was being wheeled away in a chair.

"And I am going to get some coffee, and food," she added, looking down at Cal with a caring expression. "You need to eat something."

"None of that nonsense hyper-sugary stuff you like!"

He warned her with his voice and words, but his face and eyes simply said thank you with all the gratitude in the world. Gillian smiled back, one of those smiles that made people around them feel a bit uncomfortable at times, then he nodded to the nurse and was taken away.

"Doctors always make the worst patients," Reynolds muttered as he watched him go.

"Not that kind of doctor," she mumbled in absent response, almost a reflex, then sighed. "Can I get you something Ben?"

"Coffee would be great." The agent straddled his face with his hand, hiding a yawn in the process. "Gallons of it."

"Gallons of coffee, got it." She stood up and picked up her purse. "I'll be back soon."

Reynolds nodded and sat down on the bed Cal had been reluctantly occupying, then pulled out his phone and dialled the number of the detective he had been in touch with. Gillian left, studying the hospital's signage to find her way to the cafeteria and before that, the restroom.

The ER was usually a busy place no matter the hour, however that morning DC General didn't seem to have many clients. Trying not to think how tired she was, how scared and confused she felt, instead Gillian decided to focus on the positive that Cal wasn't as bad as he looked and that yes, with caffeine and sugar in her system she might even start thinking more straight. She made her way to the women's restroom, nearly running into a nurse who was coming out and performing the polite exchange of sorrys and yougofirsts the occasion would demand. She went for the second stall, the first one being already occupied, and while she was in she could hear the water flush and someone washing their hands before leaving. Once she was done, Gillian went to wash her hands, grateful the bathroom had no mirrors above the sinks because she didn't think she was ready to face her own reflection in the hectic morning.

She was about to reach for the paper towel to dry her hands when she heard a muffled noise somewhere behind her, but before she could turn around a strong hand forced its way on her neck, squeezing hard enough to trap her breath but without pain. That came from the other side, from something sharp and pointy pinching at the flesh of her neck, possibly a knife. Gillian felt the hand seize and release then seize again, firm and steady, and the blade sinking ever so slightly in a pinch of pain enhanced by the situation. Someone was behind her, someone strong enough to be able to choke her with one hand if he wanted and clearly not shy in piling up on the threat by means of a deadly weapon.

"Hi Dr Foster."

The voice… Gillian could have moved if she wanted, to try to turn around and face her aggressor even at the risk of unleashing his violence. But truly no, she couldn't. The moment she heard the voice she lost control of herself, of her body which started shaking violently and sending waves of nausea and dizziness, and her mind taking a life of its own. She didn't want to go there, she actively tried to fight against herself and her ability to recognise voices, but her mind took the path and opened the files, releasing terrifying memories she had spent years burying deep. She closed her eyes, her hands desperate for something to hold on too even though she was too afraid to move even a inch, for a brief moment naively thinking if she said to herself that wasn't real enough times it would make it so.

"It's been a while, Doc." The voice whispered in her ear, the blade sinking in and Gillian was sure blood was drawn. "I thought we were friends."

And with that, whatever faint hope to wake up from a bad dream was ripped away from her.

Cal hated that.

He could tell when someone was lying with just one look, and with a few well placed questions he could easily figure out about what. He could look at someone and see in their faces if they were hiding something, dig out of them what it was and why and then some. But there was hardly anything he could do when all he could do was look at the doctor and Reynolds' backs, completely blocking the view of his scans.

"Well?!" He couldn't take it anymore and grunted loudly, annoyed at what he truly felt was a double act the two men had put up just to spite him. "Is my brain going to explode or what?!"

In confirmation of his theory, Cal saw the men's shoulders shake slightly then they chuckled, then Dr Porter sighed and turned around.

"Everything looks ok, Dr Lightman. There's no sign of damage, so I guess we can finish dressing the scalp laceration, give you a few stitches then you can be on your way."

"About time!" Cal grumbled again, then eyed the med student who had been hanging around clearly against his own will. "You better keep that one away from me."

Reynolds rolled his eyes, wishing Foster would be back from the cafeteria already because he certainly wasn't going to scold him like she would. It looked like Dr Porter was quite keen to have them on their way, because not only Cal had been taken for the CT swiftly but also the results had come in a record time. Reynolds was all for that; of course the main priority was to know that Cal didn't have serious injuries, but he also didn't like spending too much idling around the hospital. He wanted to get to the next part of his plan, go to the police and get Ward's - or whoever it was - description out there as soon as possible. He struggled to accept that the man was back from the dead, but the threat he posed was certainly real for Cal and Gillian.

The agent checked his watch, noticing Gillian had been away quite awhile now but he figured it was intentional. Cal was hard to manage under normal circumstances, as a reluctant patient he was even more difficult and she probably needed a bit of a break too. And as he watched Cal fidget around when Dr Porter started to apply the first stitches, Reynolds honestly wished he could be somewhere else too.

"Any chance you're going to prescribe me something for the pain?" Cal asked then, smirking at the doctor and Reynolds. "What? I've never said I'm not in pain."

"I can and I will, but I'd like you to stay away from the hard stuff." The doctor looked at Reynolds, they had a quick chat while waiting for Cal to come back from CT and some very generic information had been shared. "I assume you'd like to be as lucid as possible?"

Cal looked up at Reynolds and smirked, he wasn't too keen on others knowing but he trusted the agent that nothing too confidential had been said. Then he relaxed back on the stretcher and sighed.

"That'll do." He mumbled, then nodded at Reynolds. "Any news while they shot radiation at me?"

"Nothing yet, but I knew it was going to take time." Reynolds started talking, then his attention was briefly caught by some commotion going on in the hallway. "And honestly Lightman, I don't expect to find any prints at your place."

"Me neither," he muttered. "Tell you the truth mate, I really wish you wouldn't."

"Yeah, I- Excuse me one second."

Seemingly distracted, Reynolds held up his hand and stepped away while the doctor continued with his action, but a minute later he was passing it to the student, much to Cal's dismay. That was bad enough, what with the young man's hands shaking and all, but as the first round of painkillers started to kick in and distract him from the pain his mind started to pick up on the shift in the atmosphere around him. Dr Porter had been helpful and reasonable, somewhat invested in the trio, and it was strange to see him step away mid-procedure with no explanation. Then Cal looked around, scanning the room for Gillian's presence and trying to figure out how long he might have been gone for the CT. The terrified med student applying what were probably going to be terrible stitches to his skull was of no help, but all of the sudden he was the only person in the room so he'd have to do.

"Where is my friend?" He asked, trying to stay still mostly to avoid a needle getting in the wrong place. "The woman who was with us?"

"I'm sorry sir, I don't know." The man's voice was shaky, but he did sound truthful enough. "She said something about going to the cafeteria."

Cal rolled his eyes and tried to get a better view of the man's face, but it was nearly impossible with him hovering on the top of his head. He was thinking about the next question, or yelling for help so that someone else would come into the room, when Reynolds walked back in. The moment he saw him, Cal's whole body tensed. He looked grim, tired as if he had just remembered then that he had been woken up in the middle of the night and not at all eager to share whatever he, clearly, had to tell.

"What is it?" Cal pulled up, ignoring the weak protest of the young doctor and instead just staring at Reynolds with an intense gaze. "Where's Foster?"

Reynolds sighed and tried to look at him long enough, then absently waved one hand at the hallway behind him.

"Exam room tow, she…she's ok-"

He didn't get to finish, even before he could see the panic in Cal's face the scientist was on his feet, bits of the suture kit flying around as he moved people out of the way. He rushed past the med student and Reynolds, bumping into Dr Porter and following his eyes to the second door on the left, then he ran towards there just in time to see a female nurse coming out of the room. Cal stopped on track, studying the woman's face and the objects in her hands, not knowing what to make of either things. In the end, what truly mattered was that she nodded as if to say he could go in and he went past her, slowing down his frantic behaviour and breathing before going in. The courtesy curtain was pulled around the bed but he could see Gillian's feet underneath it and allowed himself a small sigh of relief, thinkin whatever it was wasn't bad enough that she had to lay down. Still, his heart was pounding violently in his chest, panic swallowing the pain all over his body, and it took all he had in him to pause a moment instead of hastily pulling the curtain.

"Gill?" He called her name as gently as he could, for both of their sake.

She didn't respond, which wasn't as terrifying as he had expected, but he did see a small movement in her silhouette behind the curtain and heard her sigh. It might have been considered creepy, but over the years he had come to learn the type of noises she would make and what they meant, and he relied on that knowledge to interpret that as a "I'm fine" one. So he nodded to himself and took hold of the curtain, moving it just enough to make sure she knew he was about to come in and proceeding when she didn't give any sign of stopping him.

Slowly, carefully, Cal pulled the rest of the curtain and stood on the spot, looking at Gillian gracefully sitting on the edge of the hospital bed. Her hair was messy, and not in an endearing kind of way that would make her look less perfect than usual but still always somewhat elegant. Her eyes were red and signed by fatigue, as well a hint of tears she had bravely fought back, but the rest of her face was pale in a way that scared the hell out of him. Without saying a word Cal stepped a little closer, and in doing so he started to notice the rest. Part of her left earring was missing, probably broken off and lost somewhere, and there was a large finger shaped purple bruise on the left side of her neck. As that wasn't scary enough, on the opposite side he saw a small cut, too small even to require a plaster apparently but a cut nevertheless. The bad news continued as he looked further down, his jaw clenching as he saw the rip in the fabric of the blouse and the creases on the side of her pants.

As he took it all in, Cal realised he was now breathing too fast for his own good but couldn't slow down, as much as he couldn't stop his own mind from going through countless possible scenarios about what had happened to her. None of them was even remotely a good one, they were all equally terrifying but one trumped them all. The only thing scarier of that last thought was the fact that, one way or the other, he had to verify whether his assumption was founded or not. He tried to swallow but he felt like it got stuck in his throat, blocked by fear and guilt already adding to the mix as he regretted not being there when she had needed him.

It took all the courage in his body to take the last step and get closer, even more when Gillian took in a deep breath and looked up at him. Her eyes were like a door burst open, letting him through with no opposition. She hadn't cried, she was too strong for that, but she had gone damn close and whatever happened it had gotten to her like nothing before.

Or almost nothing.

Cal had to fight the urge to scream, counting to ten in his head before gently reaching out for her hand, more than ready to pull back if she showed any sign she wasn't up for it. Nothing of the sort happened, the moment his hand came into her view Gillian immediately went for it and seized it, squeezing hard. He looked down at her, knowing she could feel the silent call of his eyes, and eventually her eyes met him again. He was asking, he didn't want to and he even less wanted to know, yet he had to and held his breath until Gillian finally shook her head no and he felt his heart start beating again.

Before he could say anything he could feel her oddly pulling him closer by his hand, nothing delicate in her gesture but just the sheer need for comfort. Cal obliged, taking half a step closer to the bed and carefully resting the other hand on her shoulder, glad but also worried at the way she easily and hurriedly leaned toward him and buried her face in his abdomen. He closed his eyes, hoping she couldn't feel how much he was shaking, rage and fear mixing inside him like clothes in a tumble dryer, and just tried to hold her and comfort her for as long as she needed.

Eventually, Gillian started to regain her mental strength and pulled back, giving him a bitter smile and a nod to let him know that she was ok, as ok as she could be at least. Cal was not entirely sold on that, neither of them was ok and things were hardly going to get any better, but he fully trusted her ability to self-assess her condition.

Then he sighed and sat next to her, still holding her closer but with a little less desperation. They stayed like that for a while, Cal vaguely aware of the fact that there was still a hole in his head and possibly some medical tools sticking out of it, until someone knocked on the door. Comfortable as they were with each other, they didn't feel the need to pull apart too much but simply kept seating close and holding each other's hand, calling for the person at the door to come in.

Reynolds slowly stepped in and took a look, mostly at Cal who nodded to let him know that Foster was ok, then the agent came closer and sighed.

"I spoke with Dr Porter, we're going to take a look at the cameras."

"I don't think they have cameras in the restroom," Cal quipped. "I bloody hope they don't."

"No but they have them in the hallways." Reynolds bit at his lip and looked at Foster. "If you could give us a description we could-"

"I didn't see him," Gillian spoke with a steady voice, causing Cal to look at her with nothing but admiration. "He was behind me and there were no mirrors, I didn't see his face." Then she looked over at Cal, giving him an even fiercer nod. "But it was Ward. I know it was him."

"How? I'm sorry Foster but if you didn't see him how can you be sure it was him?"

"He spoke to me."

As far as he was concerned, Cal didn't need any further explanation. He had no reason to doubt her as a rule, and he sure wasn't going to her after the recent episode. And he certainly knew better to question her when it was about recognising a voice.

"What did he say?" Reynolds asked, him too remembering her peculiar ability and deciding to roll with it. Doubting a beat up and shocked Cal might have some grounds, but Foster was a whole other thing.

"He said it was nice to see me again." Cal's hand around her squeezed hard, truly more for his benefit than for hers, then she looked down at the floor and whispered. "He said 'I thought we were friends'."

"I don't get it." Reynolds hated his job at that moment, badgering Foster with questions about something that clearly made her uncomfortable was not something he enjoyed. "Does that mean anything to you?"

Cal's face had darkened when Gillian had shared the last piece of information, and it wasn't giving any signs or relaxing. Foster's one the other hand was white like a ghost, trying her best not to show how shook up she was but still clearly affected by something. Reynolds had picked up something about micro-expressions while working at the group, probably not enough for an accurate read but still enough to realise that Ward's - might as well call him that - last message had struck a nerve more than his "visit" to her.

"Ward said it to me, back then," Gillian explained in a low voice, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath suddenly finding enough energy within to look at Reynolds with a determined gaze that made him slightly uncomfortable. "It's him, Cal was right. I don't know how, but it's him."

"Alright, we'll go with it then," the agent huffed, then checked his watch. "Let's get out of here and go to the police. This doesn't change the plan we had, but we might just need to make a couple of adjustments."

With adjustments he clearly meant lies, and it was clear by the knowing look they exchanged that neither of them was going to have any issues with it.