Disclaimer: I disclaim these characters as nothing but my playthings! I'm writing for fun. My fun! And hopefully yours.
Summary: S04E05: The Group investigate a soccer team's cheating allegation, while Foster gets a mysterious visitor.
A/N: Well, Well, Well. If it isn't the Gillian Foster character development episode…
(there are fewer chapters in this, but around the same word count. It's just the way the Acts split that dictated the chapter division.)
And Somewhere in the Darkness
Chapter 1
Gillian Foster trundled, bleary-eyed, from the kitchen into the living room carrying a tray of mugs, cereals, and toast, clad in her most comfortable baggy pyjama pants and t-shirt. She carefully placed the load down on the coffee table in front of the sofa, upon which sat a bright eyed, claret-and-blue jersey wearing Cal Lightman.
Gillian joined him on the sofa, leaving virtually no space between them, and picked up her oversized coffee mug. Sipping lightly from the steaming hot beverage, she quickly blew on the surface of the mug, took another little sip, and replaced it on the table.
She turned her body at a slight angle towards her partner, observing his childlike zeal.
"Ok, who's playing?"
"What do you mean who's playing? West Ham," he replied indignantly pinching the crest on his jersey and raising up as if showing it to her would cover any question she might have.
"Yes, Cal. I know that. Who are they playing? I need to know who I'm supporting in this if I'm going to be up at seven thirty on a Saturday."
His jaw dropped. "What do you mean? Who you're supporting? You're supporting West Ham."
"No, you support West Ham. I support whoever West Ham plays."
When his astonished stare didn't force her to back down, he carried on.
"This is the most important match of the season. This is the FA Cup final, Gill. We've not made it to a cup final in years. We've been relegated out of the Premier League. This is all I have left. Don't ruin this for me."
"I'm not. It'll be more fun if we're supporting different teams."
"…"
"Seriously Cal, who are they playing?"
"… Crystal Palace," he reluctantly informed her.
"I beg your pardon?"
"We're playing Crystal Palace."
"No, but really."
"Really," he said insistently, not understanding her issue.
"You made that up."
"What are you on about? Why would I make that up?"
"You tried to tell me once that English sports teams don't have ridiculous names like our sports do, and now you're telling me that a team called 'West Ham', which I accepted, are playing a team called 'Crystal Palace'? No."
"What's wrong with that? They're both London clubs, named for the areas in London where they're based. Not like your nonsense franchise system-"
Before he could further defend his country's honour, the TV announcers began the introduction for the game, listing both teams exactly as Cal had done. Gillian continued her disbelieving bemusement and picked up her cereal from the table.
"Ok, I guess I'm supporting 'Crystal Palace'," she scoffed as she settled back into the corner of the sofa, picking her feet up from the floor and resting them flat against Cals thigh as she shovelled a spoonful of coco puffs into her mouth.
It was a beautiful day in the state of Virginia. The early morning sun was still rising in the cloudless sky, and the heat was just right. Both teams ran onto the pitch, surrounded by a few dozen cheering fans. Each player took up their positions, and the referee checked his watch. With a quick check to ensure that both sides were ready to go, he blew his whistle, and the soccer ball began it's journey from end to end.
Before long, several of the players on the team wearing red began to slow and sweat, their energy levels evading them. Not long after that, they began to lightly clutch their stomachs. The team in blue became dominant, running past their opposition with ease. One goal went into the back of the net, then shortly afterwards another.
One of the players in red signalled to the side lines, asking his coach to substitute him. The coach turned to the bench to be greeted with much the same picture as that on the field. Pale faces surrounded him, but still the play continued. After a particular bout of exertion, one of the men in red ran to the corner flag, doubled over, and began to retch.
Half time came after far too long for the men on the red team. The coach, worried and angry, asked what the hell was going on. Multiple players stared back at him in desperation, taking turns in the short break they were allotted to run to the nearest bathroom or bucket.
All too soon they had to return to the field. The coach asked the referee to consider postponing the rest of the game but was told that their only options were to play on or to forfeit. They chose to play on, the second half was considerably more painful. Goal after goal went into the back of their net.
The final whistle came after an eternity, and each of the players in red retreated as quickly as they could from the field of play. Behind them they left an array of baffled faces, from the crowd, the referee's, the opposition, and most of all their own coaches.
"Are you going to be in a mood all week? It's been two days already."
"You jinxed them, Gill!"
"How!?"
"You brought them bad luck by cheering for the other team."
"Don't be ridiculous. I just picked the better team."
They stopped by the reception desk mid-argument to check for their mail and messages, where they encountered Heidi and Torres.
"New case just in," Heidi said when they paused in their bickering.
"Oh yeah?"
"Soccer team. Lost a game at the weekend and the team manager wants us to look into it. He thinks his team was poisoned. They're an amateur team, but they have big money sponsors who want answers."
Foster and Lightman stared at each other. Her surprised but amused look challenging him to say something. His returning look of barely hidden despair challenging her the same.
"Contact the coach to get more detail, please Heidi. We can arrange a time to meet with him this morning," Gillian answered her, still looking at Cal.
"Sure. I'll let you know what time as soon as I have it."
"Thank you," she said as she walked away, leaving Cal to follow behind her.
He moved along and then, as an afterthought, stopped to ask, "What's the name of the team?"
Heidi checked her note and said, "Uh, they're a small non-league team in Virginia… the Richmond Raptors."
"Huh," he said smugly and directly to Gillian.
"Don't get me started, Cal."
[A/N: The FA Cup Final in 2011 was not played between West Ham and Crystal Palace. West Ham went out in the 6th round. I checked. I just like the idea of the scene. They were relegated that year though.]
