Hello all! I like you all understood Cal's need to process things, I'd say Gillian was the one who didn't hehe.

Eteri; You're right, it's not about trust, and there was no malice on her side. Still, it was a lot to take for him and yes, he was being a little selfish even though he started to see it in the previous chapter.

So here we go, I hope you had a chance to check out the song because I thought it was very fitting. Then again, I realised I missed the chance to title this chapter "Into the mirror" because, in the end, that's what the story was meant to be about, as I can tell you've noticed by the latest reviews.

Anyway, here we go


He was hiding, running away and he knew it. He could have even admitted it, if anybody had been brave enough to enquire about it, and yet he couldn't tell what he was running from. Cal had been feeling that way since the early morning, when he had woken up with his arms wrapped around Gillian in bed with him.

As pleasant as it had been, especially when he remembered that she had been the one coming to him during the night and initiating something unprecedented, after a few seconds of inhaling her scent through the back of her head Cal had felt overwhelmed and terrified by the situation. It was too much, especially after the days he had been through, and he had snuck out of bed as quietly as he could. Picking up his things and tip-toeing his way to the door, Cal hadn't resisted a last look before leaving the room. She looked calm, deep asleep and relaxed as if nothing of note had happened recently.

And it had infuriated him.

Yes, he had made her breakfast and prepared coffee, but when he had written the note in his mind it was supposed to sound like a warning. Anything else he had done that day had been dictated by that very same sense of frustration: putting a stop to rumours and questions by telling the staff Foster was safe and sound, diving into work and meetings not to leave a spare second for his mind to wander, and ignoring Gillian's calls. That last one had been the main point, because the more he thought about their conversation from the night before the less he wanted to talk to her. It was too soon for that, he had to think about it and take a good look at himself before they'd have another round and for the time being he was content with being happy she was safe, even though he didn't feel like that was enough to declare things were back to normal.

Besides ignoring her for the time being, Cal didn't have much of a plan. He was confident Gillian would take the hint and hold back, and with that comforting thought he had realised all he wanted for that evening was to go home and spend time with his daughter. He had gone straight to the office after a shower and checking on Emily, and had deeply enjoyed how the girl had reacted to the latest updates. On the way home after work, Cal had stopped to get Chinese for dinner and was somewhat anticipating exactly how much of a third degree Emily was going to give him on Gillian's adventure - to which he had no intention to respond - when he got out of his car. With the bag of Chinese food in his hands, Cal walked up the door and opened up with his keys, ready to call out loud for Emily to come and help him set him up the table for dinner when his words were taken away by the sound of laughter coming from the living room.

He tensed immediately, nearly dropping the bag, the frustration he had kept at bait throughout the day suddenly resurfacing as he recognised the sounds. As he recognised the voices, to be precise. One was Emily, and he'd been happy to hear it and eager to join if it hadn't been for the fact that the second laughing voice was Gillian's.

Jolting out of his surprise, Cal quickly walked to the kitchen and dropped the bag on the counter, then took a few more hasty steps across the dining room and stood on the door of the living room, watching Emily and Gillian sharing the couch and having a laugh.

"Hi Dad!" Emily got up immediately and walked up to him for a quick welcoming hug. "You brought food! Great, I am starving!"

Emily abandoned her father and went straight for the bag in the kitchen to start unpacking dinner, oblivious to the sudden tension in the room. Cal had responded to her hug in an automatic gesture, but his attention was all on Gillian who, adding to his frustration turning into anger, looked back at him without a hint of guilt or regret.

"Gillian," Emily came back into the living room holding a couple of glasses. "You're staying for dinner, right?"

Gillian knew better not to answer, and she didn't even need to silently check with Cal. He was giving his back to Emily so the girl didn't see his jaw clench, then he took a little breath in that only marginally softened his voice as he spoke.

"No Em, she's not."

"But Dad, you brought so much food!" The girl protested playfully, then stepped in between them. "C'mon, we should celebrate!"

"Emily," Gillian said then, putting on her best motherly voice and smile. "Could you give us a minute?"

Only then, hearing the plea in Gillian's voice and for the first time noticing the strange expression on her father's face, Emily became aware of the complicated atmosphere in the room. Her eyes moved back and forth between the two adults a few times, eventually landing on her father who just about managed to soften his stance and look a little less on the edge of exploding.

"Yeah, that'd be nice, Em." He said then, wrapping one arm around her shoulder. "Why don't you take some of that upstairs with you? Don't let it get cold."

"Dad-"

"Everything is fine, love." He whispered with a seemingly convincing smile and kissed the top of her head. "We just need to talk about work."

Emily didn't buy it, not even a little. It had been years since her parents' divorce but she remembered all too well the many times she had been asked to leave the room so that they could "talk". Back then she was still young enough for them to come up with silly reasons for her to go, but she had still known Mom and Dad were not going to discuss peaceful things: as much as she knew her father and Gillian were not going to talk about work, not with the way they were looking at each other and with tension saturating the living room. But she also knew, like back then, that there wasn't much she could do. Eavesdropping had never been an option with her mother, and as much as she wanted to know what was going on she wasn't going to try that on Gillian. So all she could do was nod to her father, grab a couple of boxes of food and hop up the stairs, realising as she left that she couldn't remember another time in which she had seen that much negative energy between Dad and Gillian.

Cal watched her go up the stairs and waited to hear the door of her room close, then a sad smile came to his face when fairly loud music followed. He remembered too, how Emily used to do the same whenever he and Zoe were fighting, probably to show them that she was being a good girl and not trying to listen in. Then he turned around to look at Gillian and the smirk was gone.

"You don't get to tell my daughter what to do," he stated then. "Certainly not in my house."

Gillian let him have that one: he wasn't wrong, it wasn't her place to tell Emily what to do even though she had a feeling Cal had partially appreciated the fact that she had taken away from him the burden of shooting down the dinner invitation.

"I know. I'm sorry." She urged to apologise, then she stood up. "We need to talk, Cal."

"You don't get to tell me what to do either," he clarified, his voice strong and steady. Then he took a step forward and tilted his head, muttering the following words behind clenched teeth. "You don't get to show up here and have a laugh with my daughter after-"

"After what, Cal?"

He was genuinely and utterly taken aback by the way she cut him off. He had been raging internally all day thinking about how scared he had been, how distraught to know she was missing and endangered and then to see the relief of having her back washed away by the monumental secrets she had been hiding. He had not planned on facing her again that evening but he knew he'd been more than happy to give her a piece of word when it happened again, and the last thing Cal had expected was for Gillian to fight him so defiantly.

"After lying to me, Gillian. You called and you lied to me, you let me go on about it and have a good time and you lied to me about prolonging your holiday." He was doing his best to keep the volume of his voice down, but the anger seeped through well enough. "You were in trouble and you hid it from me. I could have helped, I could certainly do more for you than sit on my sorry arse and wait to know if you'd come back." Cal stepped closer, staring at her with eyes sparkling with rage and something else Gillian couldn't quite grasp. "Then you come back and I find out you knew all this could happen? That you'd be waiting for your past to come and get you?"

"I know it's a lot to take, Cal. I told you why I didn't-"

"That is not the point Gill, and it doesn't make it any better!" Cal felt his voice escaping his control and paused, taking a deep breath. "Were you even going to tell me you worked with the CIA? What would have happened if they had gotten to you before you could put your little plan in motion?"

Gillian held back her words, wisely so. She knew it was useless to remind him that technically she had not worked for the CIA or to note that in the end her plan had indeed worked. She knew there wasn't much she could say to placate him because, even though he wasn't seeing it yet, she knew exactly how he felt.

"It wasn't your fight."

"You are my friend, Gillian. Forget the business, besides Emily you are the most important person in my life and I could have lost you without even knowing why." That hurt, it was a wonderful thing to hear but not in the way he said it, his whole face screaming hate instead of affection despite his words. "Am I supposed to forget all that, forget how I felt just because you're back? That's what you expected me to do?"

"Yes, Cal. I do." Her words were incredible enough, and the fact that she pronounced them with a hint of a smile was downright outrageous. "Because that's what I do, every time."

If Cal had thought she had been defiant before, pretty much ignoring his feelings and still more interested in pushing her own narrative, in that moment he felt like she had just punched him in the guts. She had spoken in a low and controlled voice, unlike him who had been fighting against his own frustration to keep it out of Emily's hearing range, and yet her words had gotten to him like a series of blows that would have easily knocked him to the ground. Cal recoiled and took a step back, blinking a couple of times surprised and confused, then he looked at her with increasing attention.

Gillian didn't need any further looking or reading. There had been one thing in his face she had been failing to recognise but by his last outburst she had finally seen that it was pain and desperation dictating his words. So she let him have a good look, not trying to hide anything and showing off so much of what was going through her mind that Cal could easily ODed on the rush of emotions he saw.

Gillian waited, she watched his face go through quite a range of emotions of his own as he fed off of hers. He was mad at first, still offended by the secrets she had been keeping from him, then curiosity took over long enough for him to see what she was thinking, what she was feeling, and after that there was only a painful epiphany all over his face. For a brief moment, seeing he had eventually come to her own conclusion, Foster attempted a small smile which was meant to be reassuring and ease the tension, possibly kicking off the next - and easiest - part of their confrontation.

Thankfully, before she tried to step closer to him and make an impromptu move making things even words, Cal shook out of his own stupor and looked back at her. He still looked confused and a bit out of it, but shook his head with slow movements and a strange, sad, light veiling his eyes.

"You said goodbye to me, Gillian." The pain in his voice was deep, almost guttural, and there was a little tremble in it he couldn't hide as Cal remembered the tears that conversation had brought along. Gillian didn't know for sure but could easily imagine, she had felt pretty much the same, but then his face hardened again and he stretched his neck forward as he hissed at her with renewed rage. "Goodbye, as in never seeing you again. Over a bloody phone call."

"Would you do the same to me?" Once again, Cal was not prepared for her assault when he had expected her to guard his attacks. "How many times have you come close to it, Cal? How many times have you thought this might be it and taken that into consideration?"

"What-"

"You can be mad at me, you can be offended that I kept secrets from you and tried to solve this on my own. You can be all that and more Cal, I am not going to tell you how you should or shouldn't feel." Gillian came a little closer, this time she was the one hissing at him and putting some much needed nervous energy behind her words. "But don't stand there pretending you haven't done the same to me a million times."

He should have seen it coming, he really should have. That was what he had caught earlier in her face and demeanour, that was the painful epiphany he had tried to ignore thinking his resentment was justified and trumped the fact that yes, he had done the same to her a million times. He should have known she had a strong argument, that his history of going rogue, taking risks and concocting dangerous plans behind her back was the reason for her confidence and strength in a confrontation he thought he was going to dominate.

But he hadn't.

His own pain and anger had blinded him, numbed his mind and obscured his heart to the point he could only see his side of the matter. A lonely, painful and depressing side he then realised had had Gillian's position for a long time.

Cal's breath shortened all of a sudden, ravenously coming out of his mouth as a long, way too long, series of memories of things he had done passed before his eyes like a montage in a movie. Jennings, Matheson, the bank robbery, the psychopath who had tortured him for hours, Afghanistan; and then the whole mess with Terry, his penchant for getting himself in troubles and creating even bigger ones to get out of them, that short involuntarily stay at the looney bin that could have been avoided if he'd only listened to her: the imaginary editor in his brain had plenty of material to chose from to put together thart reel, and even though Cal had never really dismissed how his actions affected other only then he fully grasped what they had done to those around him.

His legs felt weak all of a sudden, Cal looked around and dropped on the nearest armchair before they would give in entirely and sat down. Gillian watched, feeling no sense of triumph at all as she understood what he was going through; seeing him like that, lost and overrun by his own thoughts, had never been her goal when she had decided she wasn't going to let him ignore her anymore. She gave him time, the same she had given herself all the times he had gone and done something stupid and left her wonderign what if, then she sat back on the couch far enough to also give him space.

"I couldn't breathe," Cal said after a while, looking down at his own hands in his lap. "I couldn't sleep, I couldn't think. I was afraid to do anything and terrified to find out that what I was doing wasn't enough, that no matter what I couldn't help. I went to sleep last night thanking God you were alive and still when I woke up this morning the first going through my mind was the fear to find out none of that was true." Slowly, he lifted his head and looked up at her with red eyes and a pale face. "Is that what it feels like, when I do it?"

Gillian was glad she had decided to sit down, because the magnitude of his words was knee-jerking enough, even without the power of her own response.

"Yes," she confessed, her own voice trembling with tears she imposed herself to keep down at all costs.

She could see it, feel it: she could hear his heart break when Cal gasped and closed his eyes, holding his head in his hands as if he was trying to contain the force of his own thoughts. Gillian waited again, feeling she needed that break as much as he did because none of that was easy for her, not even considering the fact that she had been thinking about how to say what she had to say all day.

Then, after what felt like the longest of time, Cal leaned back on the chair and put his hands on the armrest, looking at her with the same lost expression but at least trying his best to put some more confidence in his voice.

"How can you still be around me?" He moaned then, shaking his head as if he couldn't grasp the reality they were discussing. "If this is what you get for it, Gillian how can you-"

"Because I can't breathe. I can't sleep, I can't think." Her voice was soft, despite that failing to comfort him and instead throwing Cal into an even deeper sense of confusion. "Because I want to help and I am afraid, to do something or not do anything. Because I go to sleep telling myself you're still alive and I wake up in the morning fighting the urge to call you and make sure it wasn't a dream. Because I can't help but feel this way and I've come to accept the fact that it all means something."

Somehow, much to their mutual surprise, Cal managed to sustain her gaze while his mind processed her words. To Gillian, he looked equally terrified and relieved and she wasn't sure what to make of that combination. When she had gone there with the intention to let him know that he had rights to be mad at her for once doing what was his trademark, she had not expected for things to go that way. She had thought he'd stay mad for a little longer, then recognised the hypocrisy of his behaviour and take a few more jabs at her to smooth things over. That hadn't happened, not yet, and the longer it took him to respond, Gillian realised, the less likely it was to happen.

"When you called, on Saturday." Words came out of his mouth slow, fatigued and uncertain as he looked away for a moment. "I didn't even realise you were lying to me, didn't even question it."

It wasn't a question neither a statement, neither a series of words Cal expected to make much sense to either of them. The fact was that as he was putting those sentences together others had come in from the side with a disturbing action, scrambling words and thoughts in his mind and creating chaos. It was nothing much, or at least it hadn't been back then, but now some of the things they had said to each other over the phone came back to haunt him, wondering if she hadn't been trying to tell him something in between the lines way back then.

He had no way of knowing, and even if he'd asked Cal knew that in that moment she could have gotten away with any lie she wanted to tell him because he was not in the right state of mind to know what was going through his own head. He still looked at her, tried at least, for the first time in years seeing nothing he could recognise, identify or react to.

"You'll always be my blind spot," he said then, looking away to spare himself the sight of her reaction.

After a second or two, as his eyes wandered around anywhere but at her, Cal heard a little shuffling noise and then felt her hand rest on his. It was a light and tentative touch, welcomed but also too overwhelming for that moment, but Cal still forced himself to leave it there and not break the contact. Then, out of nowhere, Cal found himself nodding and slowly turned his head to look at her again, and that was how Gillian saw the faint smile coming up to his lips.

A sad, resigned smile that hardly meant anything good.

"I'm sorry, love." He whispered then, and Gillian couldn't tell what he was apologising for. Then gently removed his hand from under hers and looked away again, standing up and walking away. "I'm gonna need some time."

Gillian watched him go, not to the kitchen to get food or a much needed drink but up the stairs, likely to his bedroom where he would be alone with his own thoughts. Left to herself, Gillian spared herself the humiliation and uncertainty of waiting for him to come back and continue the conversation. Instead, she stood up and made her way to the door, leaving without a sound or a word more. She might not have been sure what he was apologising for, but she had no doubt about what he meant by saying he needed some time.

The question was how much and what would happen afterwards, but all she could do was wait.


Reviews always welcome, it's always interesting to know what you guys think.

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