Hello hello!

Tori: thank you for saying 'only' half way through, that's the spirit! Cal and Gillian needed this, it was painful to uncover that part of the story but were also in control and it hadn't happened to them in a while.

Eteri: oh my, you're ok! I am not joking, i really was worried (had bad experiences in the past…). I feel a lot better now, and the story will be there whenever you are free!

Now, thank you so much for those who commented and for appreciating the small gestures between them. I am very aware of the fact that I write a lot of them, but in this case I feel they really do add to the story and it's great to see you picking up on it.

Well, now they know who and a bit how, but of course still nothing about where Warton is. But for now the more pressing question is: is Gillian ok?

The door of the room hadn't even closed behind them, but Cal already had something else on his mind. The moment they left those people his attention was entirely on Gillian, as he stood next to her as close as possible. She was looking straight ahead, her chin up and her eyes steady up front, but he knew things weren't as easy as she made them look. As they walked, Reynolds a few steps behind them already on the phone with someone, Cal carefully placed a hand on the small of her back and felt how tense she was. He wasn't surprised, it must have taken every ounce of her strength to keep it together during that confrontation, and he wished he could do so much more than just that useless touch.

They kept walking without saying a word, tracing their steps backward to the entrance. Cal noticed some glances coming their way, perhaps because they recognised them or just found it odd to see that kind of display in such a place, and either way didn't care much about it. All he cared about was Gillian, feeling through his hand that she had started trembling. As they moved through corridors and elevators, he could feel that it was getting worse and prayed they could make it to the exit at least before it all came crashing down. By the time they made it to the lobby Gillian's whole body was positively shaking like a leaf, and Cal had to resist the instinct to pick her up and carry her out himself.

As they approached the entry desk he saw her fumbling with the visitor pass attached to her bag and stepped in, removing hers and snatching his own from the lapel of the jacket, then tossing both at the security guard behind the counter without so much of a look or word. His hand still on Gillian's back, Cal felt the nervous tension had gone, replaced but that uncontrolled shaking and a quickened breathing that started to worry him more than he cared to admit.

Once outside, in the brisk air of the afternoon, Gillian sped up to put as much distance as possible between herself and the building with Cal close behind. She didn't hear Reynolds say that he was going to get the car, all she was aware of was Cal's comforting presence next to her, and as soon as she could she started taking in long and deep breaths. Once Reynolds had gone and they had moved away from the entrance, Cal moved his hand and wrapped his arm around her waist, silently guiding her towards a group of benches by a coffee cart. It was late in the working day and the area was relatively quiet, all the best for them, and they sat down in a corner with no other people around.

Once they sat, Cal bit at his bottom lip as he watched her angle her body away from him, hurt a little by it but also understanding. She was still breathing erratically, taking fast and short intakes of air that made her sound like a broken squeaky toy. Cal thought that was it, that she had reached the limit, and hated himself. He should have insisted, he should have pushed her more not to come, not to face them…but then again, without her there he probably would have lost his marbles within five minutes of being in the room, and without her they certainly wouldn't have had the edge in the confrontation. She had been right saying that their fear of him could be distracting, but eventually it would have helped: the difference was, where he might have been a crowbar forcefully jammed in for a quick break through, Gillian's presence had been a way more refined lockpick instrument, taking the time to slowly work its way in.

He left her time and space, his hand just absently resting within her range of vision so that she could take it when she felt like it. They sat there in silence for a while, Gillian looking down at the hands in her lap and Cal trying not to look like a creep hovering over her. Eventually, she started to relax and slowly regained her composure, even though to anybody but Cal she would have looked totally in control of herself.

"I'm ok, Cal," she said after a while.

"I know," he mumbled back. "It would be more than ok if you weren't."

He heard the little huff coming from her and imagined the bitter sweet smile on her lips. He wished he could see it too, but he was happy to go at her speed if they could get somewhere. So he waited, glad when she did rest her hand on top of his and through the contact he felt that she had stopped shaking. One more thing he admired about her: no matter how awful some of things she faced were, she would power through with admirable determination. Cal wished she didn't have to, that she didn't feel like she had to. He also wished he could hold her, just one arm around her to bring a little closer, but when he looked up at the building they had just left, and the strangers going in and out of it, he felt like he owed it to her not to. Later maybe, back at the office: but not there, not where people who didn't know anything about her could see and think she was any fragile woman in need of comfort.

"How could they do it?" She asked after a while, turning a few inches towards him. "Seat there and listen, knowing Ward was torturing Merton?"

Cal wasn't entirely surprised that she would focus on that of all things. It always came natural to her to worry about others, even if it meant someone who had been dead a long time…although he also suspected that part of her was intentionally ignoring the implication that someone had known, had listened to what Ward had done to her, and just sat in some cosy office with headphones on their heads without moving a finger.

"I don't know, love." Cal whispered, turning the palm of his hand upward and squeezing hers gently. "I heard it, I saw…I can't understand how anybody could do something like that."

"And for what? Just to score a win, to prove that they were better than you?"

"I guess I overstayed my welcome around here more than I thought." He heard her chuckle and it was like a soothing balsam, even more when she finally turned around to look at him. "Gillian, I-"

"Please Cal, I don't want to hear any apologies from you." She cut him off fiercely. "You were just doing your job, you were trying to do good. None of what happened to me or to Merton was your fault."

"It's kind of hard to accept that when we're just been told the reason why there's a maniac on our case is petty revenge."

"Well then it's us, Cal, not just you." Gillian insisted. "It was our operation back then they were willing to sabotage, and our reputation now she was trying to destroy." She put both her hands around his. "We're in this together, Cal."

He nodded absently, although they both knew it would take way more than that for him to accept that it wasn't all on him. Contrary to what people thought, Gillian included, he took no pleasure in taking responsibility and blaming himself for things, but in that case it really was hard to get past it. Still he smiled back at her with a second, more convincing nod, just then noticing that Reynolds was parked not far away from them. He had probably been there for a while already, and was going to wait until they were done. Good man, Cal thought, then shifted a little closer to her.

"Alright love," he whispered. "How about we get out of here to begin with?"

She didn't need to voice her agreement, it was all in her relaxed smile and enthusiastic nod. They stood and took a few steps toward the curb, Reynolds pulling up close to them right on cue, then they got in the car and drove away, more than happy to leave the place, and the people inside it, behind.

The drive back to the office was as silent as the previous one, although for very different reasons. Still, once they got back the first thing they did was to sit in front of a screen and watch the recording of the conversation they had just had.

"Geez!" Loker huffed once they were done. "I'm so glad I never got a job offer to work there!"

Cal and Gillian decided to ignore his note, although they could both agree he had dodged a bullet there, and instead asked to play it again. Sadly, or luckily, there wasn't much else they could learn from it. It had all been pretty clear, painfully clear, and aside from the confirmation that they had been set up, not once but twice, they hadn't acquired the most valuable information: where Warton was and how to find him.

Before he found them again.

At that time of the day, normal people with normal lives were gathering together around kitchen tables, or perhaps in restaurants, ready to have dinner and talk about their day. The randomly assorted group of people who had set up camp in the Lightman Group offices was no different, although the break room was far from providing the cosy and comforting environment one would have found at home, and the pizzas they had ordered had not gone down well with any of them. Chit chatting about the day was not an option, and what reigned in the room was mostly silence broken down by chewing.

Cal and Gillian hadn't said much after their visit to the Pentagon, to each other nor to others. Because of the video, there seemingly wasn't much to discuss further: the truth, as ugly as it was, had been outed and it would do everybody a lot of good to try and get past it. Privy to more information, Reynolds wished it could be that easy, but he had to admit that Foster and Lightman seemed to be managing the weight of the latest revelations rather well. In all honesty, part of him wished they would actually break down, have just a teeny tiny bit of a meltdown and cleanse their system a bit, because when they weren't comforting each other or leading the conversation they always looked like they could implode any seconds.

He couldn't help them with that, and he'd sure be best leaving the comforting to each other, but after that meeting at the Pentagon he sure was determined to get them out of that situation alive and, possibly, make life a living hell for Rodriguez and Greene. That was why he had put in more calls, promising strong enough evidence to ambitious people who would have loved to move their career forward, even more so if that meant removing rotten eggs. Making those calls and calling in the favours was the easy part; waiting for any of that to pay off was a very different story, because it left him - and them - with nothing to do but sit around and hope it would all pay off.

"Reynolds."

A foreign voice called his name and the group turned around, staring at Agent Miller standing on the door of the room with a parcel in his hand.

"He speaks!" Cal mumbled, noting that was the first time the backup had uttered a word since his arrival.

His outburst earned him an elbow in the side by Gillian and an eye roll from Loker, but Miller himself seemed pretty much unbothered. He clearly looked like the uptight and rigid type, but in all honesty Cal welcomed his presence; it was an extra set of hands - attached to big and muscular arms leading up to broad shoulders - providing more security for them, and perhaps someone who could balance out the dynamic between the rest of them. Cal knew that despite the fact that they had been pretty transparent so far, he and Gillian were still carrying most of the weight of the situation on their own shoulders. They had spent a lot of time hiding away in either office, needing the time and space to recover and deal with the reality, while Reynolds, and most importantly Loker, had been running around looking for information or any way to help. Having Miller there could even out things, and with an unhinged killer on their case an extra gun could certainly come in handy.

Reynolds shot him a glare, seriously wishing he could tone down the use of sarcasm as a coping mechanism, then tossed the slice of pizza he had been picking at and stood up, joining his colleague. The three of them all turned in that direction to catch something about the conversation, but Reynolds knew better than to be within sight of the experts and moved the two of them further down the corridor.

"What's the point?" Loker muttered then. "He's gonna tell us what it is anyway."

Gillian nodded, that was probably the case and she didn't see any benefit in stressing over it. Cal, on the other hand, seemed immediately restless and not at all ok with just waiting to be fed information, which was something she had been keeping an eye on. When she had told him she was afraid he could punch someone in the face, just before they went to the Pentagon, she had only been partially joking and having been in the room with him she knew he had gone really close to it. Frankly, she wouldn't have made a fuss about it if he had, and she wouldn't have minded having a go at Rodriguez herself, but her worries came from something else. He had already been vocal about his intentions towards Warton, declaring he was ready to do what he had to stop him, and as much as she wanted to find Warton and turn the tables on him she didn't want Cal to come anywhere hear him again.. Not after Ward, not after the raid in the office and the not too subtle threats in Warton's phone call.

"Foster?" She heard him call her name and shook herself out of thoughts, trying to put together a neutral expression before looking at him. "Are you ok?"

"Yes, just tired." She answered, knowing that was a more than legitimate explanation. "I was just wondering what it could be. As much as I'd like for it to be Warton's location I'm afraid that's very unlikely."

"Don't worry, love," Cal nodded at her with a determined gaze, his voice steady and decisive as he patted her hand on the table. "We'll track him down eventually."

That's exactly what I'm afraid of, she thought, praying she wasn't showing any of that. There it was again, that light in his eyes; he was ready for battle, his mind at least was, but she knew as well as he did that his body wasn't quite on the same page. It was obvious that he was in pain, the stash of painkillers in the bottle kept getting lower and she hadn't failed to notice he moved around the less he could; on top of everything, his reading was clearly off because in normal circumstance he would have certainly picked up on the real nature of her concern.

After a few minutes, the agents came back into the room, Reynolds now holding the parcel in his hands. Cal hoisted himself up from the chair and turned around to grab one the paper napkin, placing a slice of pizza on top of it and handling it over the Miller, then motioning him to grab a chair and join them. The gesture took everybody by surprise, not just Miller, but Cal seemed to silently insist until the agent shrugged and sat down.

"What?" Cal asked when he turned around and saw the other three looking at him with wide eyes. "He's part of the team now, isn't he?"

Gillian smiled, despite everything, appreciating the break from her bleak thoughts his spontaneous gesture provided. Then, feeling that someone had to balance that uncharacteristic moment of niceness from Cal, she turned toward Reynolds and eyed the parcel in his hand.

"What's that, Ben?"

"Some of my calls paid off…looks like there are quite a few people looking forward to ending Rodriguez's career."

"At least they're doing it in a clean way," Gillian mumbled, much to everybody's agreement. "What did you find?"

"I figured that since Warton is in Washington we might look for any connection between him and the city, see if something might suggest a hiding spot or something like that." Reynolds removed a few loose pieces of papers from the parcel, and Cal could see some of them carried the words 'department of correction'. "He did live in DC until he was about 21 years old, then moved around a lot because of his criminal career."

"Any place in DC we might check?"

"We know he was in town but he was always under the radar, never really had a stable address and those he provided occasionally were bogus." Cal stared at him, somewhat annoyed; it was obvious that he had found something worth sharing and he found it interesting that he was dragging like that. "We know he was in prison when Ward died. Even if they hadn't been close for years he seemed to…care enough about his brother to agree to go along with Rodriguez's plan, so I wondered if he attended the funeral."

"Could he?" Loker asked. "I mean, if he was in prison, how would that work?"

"Inmates can get daily passes for special circumstances, such as funerals or stuff related to close family members. It usually depends on the crime, the sentence and the overall behaviour while in jail."

"Did he get a pass for Ward's funeral?" Cal asked, audibly anxious to get to the point.

"He did, but he couldn't go anyway." Reynolds browsed through the papers, selected one and handed it over to him. "He got into a fight with another inmate the day before and the pass was revoked. According to prison's records he was serving a three days isolation punishment."

"So he didn't come to Washington for that." Gillian shook her head. "I'm sorry to say Ben, but this isn't exactly helpful."

"He's just building up to the big reveal, love. Aren't you, Benji?" Cal interjected, not hiding his frustration. "C'mon off Reynolds, it's cute when I do it but you're just been annoying."

Reynolds wouldn't have called his trademark teasing and withholding of information cute, but he could agree that perhaps he shouldn't have tried to have a go at it. Then he nodded and gave them the rest of the papers, knowing they were fully capable of listening to him while reading.

"About a month later his lawyer got him a pass for a couple of days, to come and get the ashes." Cal and Gillian leaned in together, looking at the documents confirming Reynolds' words. "He flew to Washington to retrieve the ashes and dispose of them as he preferred. There's a full report there, from the two marshals who took him here and back, with timings, accommodations and details of all the places he went to."

"Places?" Gillian asked.

"He went to the morgue to pick up the ashes, then visited three different places before they took him back to a secured hotel for the night. Then they flew back the morning after."

"Did he try to make a run for it? Or any discrepancy in the report?" Cal asked, still struggling to see where Reynolds' big revelation was going to fall.

"No, it all looks clean. Miller spoke with the warden in Seattle, it's been a few years but he confirmed most of it."

"Most?"

"Warton didn't bring the ashes back with him, he wasn't allowed to keep them in prison so he had to dispose of them in Washington. The report doesn't clarify in which of the three places he visited he did that."

"The marshalls-"

"They both passed away, one of them from lung cancer and the other one in a car accident with his wife. Yes, Cal," the agent jumped ahead, already seeing the suspicious look on his face. "We checked, there was nothing shady about those two deaths."

"That's great, but none of this is helpful," Cal muttered.

He was disappointed, he was really hoping for something more helpful that could decisively point them in the right direction, but as interesting as that piece of information was, it still didn't give them a location. Then he found the piece of paper in his hand being taken away swiftly by Gillian, who took it with a quick gesture and brought it closer to her face for a thorough reading. He wanted to protest, but then he noticed the spark in her eyes and wisely decided to keep his mouth shut.

"You said he went to three different places," she said, and Reynolds nodded. "After more than 10 years since he left Washington, more without even seeing his brother, he still went to three different places in one day and possibly disposed of Ward's remains at one of them. Cal," she turned toward him, "these places clearly meant something to him, enough for him to associate them with his brother even after years apart."

"You think that's where he's hiding? In one of these places?"

"They clearly had a meaning for him if he wanted to visit them on that occasion," she insisted, feeling fired up. "When Rodriguex brought him to DC for her plan she might have arranged for him to stay somewhere but since he's gone out on his own now it's reasonable that he'd gone somewhere he knew, especially somewhere that had a connection with his brother."

"What good does it do us if we don't know which one?"

He wasn't trying to be difficult, that was Gillian's jam and her reasoning made sense, but they were still missing a key part of that information.

"We can find out. After all it's only three possibilities." She paused and scanned the document in her hands again, muttering absently. "We don't need to know where he disposed of the ashes, we just need to know where he's hiding- Reynolds, where is the list of the places?"

She sounded alert, eager, for a moment forgetting she didn't want Cal to know where Warton was. It was the thrill of the chase, the now clear possibility for them to go on the counter attack and stop acting as helpless targets and, sadly, the fact that for the first time in days she could see some explanation for all that senseless series of events.

Reynolds nodded and leaned forward, muttering something about the information being there already, then he found the right page from the report and took it back to read it.

"He went to a house, just outside Clinton, then at a sports centre in a place called Tappahannock. And the last place was somewhere on Blackford Road in North Springfield."

The first two locations didn't ring any bells for them, but the last one definitely caught their attention. The moment they heard it Gillian and Cal looked at each other, immediately alert and energised, along with a touch of fear that seemed to have found a stable accommodation within them. Then Cal's eyes flickered with an excitement Gillian truly wished she hadn't seen, and she tried to beg him with her own eyes not to go out on a tangent on his own.

"That's it," he said, holding her gaze for a while before looking over at Reynolds. "That's where he's hiding."

"How can you be so sure?" Loker asked, then registered the way Foster was looking at him and realised it was a dumb question.

"Because that's where his brother died," she explained. "Blackford Road in North Springfield, that's where Ward's warehouse was."

What do you think? Are things finally moving in the right direction, tables turning and all that?

On a personal note, the next chapter is one of my personal favourite!