Saturday, April 9th, 2011

Paris, France - 6:34 AM

Barton parked just in front of the lobby doors, and he quickly jumped out and jogged around the car to open the rear passenger door. Cal kept the blanket around Gillian, pressing her up against his right side to hide the bloody bandage wrapped around his upper thigh. They managed up the stairs with minimal effort, Barton leading the way to open the door to Cal's room. Once inside, Cal set Gillian onto the bed and knelt down as Barton switched the bathroom light on. Her eyes were cast down to her hands, which were folded tightly in her lap. His larger ones came to rest on top of them, and her eyes flickered up to his.

"Alright, darling?" There were too many emotions swirling in her eyes, so he settled for a reassuring smile as he squeezed her fingers once and stood. Barton was standing off to the side looking a bit uncomfortable, and Cal managed to approach him without limping. With one quick look back at Gillian's still form, Cal gripped Barton's upper arm and walked him to the door.

"I can manage from here," he said crisply. "You go make sure David's got everything under control."

"I can assure you, he does," Barton replied tersely, and Cal narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure it's alright?"

"Yep, peachy. But she needs to rest, and she can't do that with you here." Barton nodded, turning to leave them alone. "Oi!" Cal added, and the younger man turned back around. "Thank you." Barton stared at him a moment as if determining the sincerity of Cal's gratitude before nodding once. "Tell David I'll contact him in a bit with a final report." Barton lifted one hand in salute even as Cal was closing the door behind him. He leaned heavily against it for a moment, but a sharp breath from Gillian pulled him out of his own thoughts. He forced back a wave of pain from his injury and shuffled back over to the bed. It was dark in the room except for the flood light from the bathroom, but the first rays of the morning sun were creeping up over the horizon and Cal knew he would have distract her if he wanted to clean and dress his leg without her knowledge.

"Gil, darling, you with me?" She had shrugged off the blanket in the small confines of the hotel room, and he guessed her shivering had nothing to do with the cold. He reached down and gripped her hands tightly, tugging her to a standing position. Her head lifted then, and Cal was surprised to see no traces of the fear he'd expected. He'd always known she was strong - stronger than most - but an ordeal like this could wreak havoc on a person's psyche. To see the familiar spark in his partner's eyes was an immense relief.

"You came," her voice was soft but he had no trouble hearing her in the silent room. The disbelief in her tone shocked him, but there was a certainty in her eyes that spoke volumes about her faith in him. He lifted a hand slowly to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear, using the motion to cup her face in his palm.

"Of course I did, darling. Of course I did. Nowhere else in the world I'd be." She took a shaky breath, collecting her self and her thoughts all in one effort. She briefly pressed her cheek into his hand before slipping away.

"I need a shower." He stepped back then, allowing her the space she'd tacitly requested.

"Towels are already in there," he gestured to the bathroom. "Ignore the mess." She smiled briefly, a ghost of her real one but a smile nonetheless, and his heart lifted a tiny bit. He watched her walk to the bathroom door, wincing a bit as her eyes swept over the fist-sized hole in the wall next to it. He waited but no rebuke came, and he watched her stare at the hole for a moment before continuing into the bathroom. The door shut behind her, throwing Cal into darkness. He waited until he heard the shower come on before he hobbled over to the chair and sank down with a sigh.

His leg was throbbing as he unwrapped it, and he managed to bite back a cry of pain as the wound was exposed to the air. There was a field dressing kit in the briefcase David had given him, and he stretched just far enough to pull it over to him without straining the injury. He whispered curses as he cleaned out the three inch gash, and once he glanced up nervously at the bathroom door as a rather loud grunt of pain escaped his lips. Finally the wound was clean and he contemplated the necessity for stitches. He really should get it looked at, but in order to do that he would have to bring it to Gillian's attention. Wanting to spare her any unnecessary grief he just bandaged and re-dressed the wound, but even that had Cal heaving with the effort. Now that it was clean it felt better, and Cal could manage without limping so long as he concentrated on it. He retrieved his cell phone, calling the number for "Harold" in his contact list; David picked up after three rings.

"Cal? Barton reports all's well."

"Of course it is," Cal answered flippantly. "I wouldn't be talking to you if it hadn't." The weight of his words were not lost on David, and he heard the other man chuckle over the connection.

"How's your 'partner?'"

"She's fine," Cal ignored the jab and let his eyes wander to the closed bathroom door. "She's getting cleaned up now. Listen, you think you could send someone over to her hotel and pick up her things? I'd do it, but I don't want to leave her here alone."

"Consider it done. Adrianna will deliver it to your door within the hour. Is there anything else?"

"Barton tell you about Emile?"

"He did," David's tone hardened. "Based on the intelligence we have on him, this man is not an enemy you want to have. I don't think you'll have much trouble with him once you're back across the pond, though."

"Good. You'll keep your ear to the ground, though?"

"Of course. You did good, Cal. Barton says you're pretty spry for an old fellow." Now that the threat was over and Cal's mind was steering him away from the old days, he could finally discern what it was that had been nagging at him since he'd met Barton. He kicked himself for not seeing it before, but Gillian's welfare had consumed every ounce of his attention. Since she was safe, Cal felt more relaxed and more confident.

"Well, he's not bad for a green foot. Tell he did well; just like his old man." David laughed then, and Cal realized he'd been trying to test him.

"Still as sharp as ever, Cal. I'm proud of him, though. He's shaping up to be a fine agent - one of the best, if I can say that without seeming too biased." Cal laughed as well, feeling the tension in his back and shoulders evaporate with the movement.

"I cannot possibly thank you enough, David."

"Debt paid, then?" the older man quipped.

"And then some. If you ever need something, you have my information." Cal knew it was a dangerous game to owe someone like David a favor, but he didn't care. The man had aided him when he most needed it, and helped in rescuing one of the two most important people in Cal's life. If that cost him a favor later on down the road, it was worth it.

"I might just collect on that one day. Until then..." The line went dead and Cal pressed the end button to clear the screen for his next call. It was past midnight back home, but his people were nothing if not dedicated. Cal suspected it had more to do with Foster than him, but he couldn't deny their loyalty and perseverance. Loker picked up almost immediately at the office, and Cal quickly filled him in on the general details. He could hear the relief and happiness in the younger man's voice as he relayed the information to someone next to him - presumably Torres. The young woman came on the phone then asking for Gillian, but Cal was firm in his insistence that she be left alone for now.

"Can you call Emily and let her know I'll be home tomorrow?"

"I will," Torres answered dutifully. "Tell Foster we said hello and that we're glad she's okay."

"Will do, love. And not a word of this to Emily," he ordered. "I'll tell her tomorrow when it's all over and we're home. Got it?"

"Got it. Take care of her." Torres hung up and Cal switched the phone off, setting it to charge as they slept. The sun was fully risen now, and Cal quickly pulled the curtains closed to block out its rays. He switched the bedside lamp on instead, finding more comfort in the soft glow as he sat down and pulled out his weapon. He'd managed to only expend one clip - 7 bullets - for 3 men. There was a time in his past when that would have earned him a reprimand, but now all he could think was what a waste of life it was.

He spent the next ten minutes cleaning and oiling the weapon until the action was smooth. The extra clips were stowed easily into the briefcase next to the empty weapon, the remnants of the first aid kit, all the intel he'd accumulated, and the shoulder holster. He closed it firmly, shutting that part of himself away once again with the click of the latches. A soft knock at the door set him on alert, but his heart rate slowed as Adrianna's voice floated through.

"Room service." Cal opened the door and accepted the bag she offered him with a grateful smile. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, thanks love." She smiled brightly and bounced away as Cal closed the door. He hauled the duffel bag to the bathroom door, knocking sharply to be heard over the rush of the water.

"Gil? I've got your bag here. I'm just gonna set it inside okay?" He opened the door just enough to slip the bag through, managing to avert his eyes enough that he only caught a flash of her silhouette in the mirror. She thanked him as he closed the door quickly, leaving her to finish up in peace. He sank back down into the chair with a quiet groan, wanting nothing more than to lay down on the soft bed and sleep for 24 hours. But Gillian needed the rest more than he did, and he could wait. The water shut off, and he closed his eyes as he listened to the sounds of her moving around in the bathroom. After almost ten more minutes of light dozing the bathroom door opened, and Cal blinked against the harsh fluorescent light that flooded over him.

Gillian was dressed in soft flannel pants and an over-sized t-shirt, and as he stood to move around the bed he could see the hesitation in her step, the fear that she would fall asleep and wake up back in that place. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently as he turned back the covers.

"I'll be right here, darling," he promised her, nodding toward his previous seat. She slid under the covers with a soft smile, turning her back to the chair as she settled in to sleep. As he sat his vigil, Cal pretended not to hear when she sniffled loudly, letting her sort through her emotions on her own. A lot had happened in the last 48 hours, and her mind was going to have to process it all before it let her get any sleep. He wanted to go over and hold her, to promise her that he would never let anything like this happen again. But Foster was a strong, independent woman and any intrusion by him would be rejected outright. His own exhaustion was threatening to overwhelm him, but with only one bed he didn't dare lie next to her for fear of disturbing her restful slumber.

She sighed as she rolled over, and Cal glanced at her quickly to make sure she was still sleeping. Her fingers clutched the blanket greedily, gathering it under her chin as she settled back down into the mass of pillows that came with every hotel room. A beam of sunlight through the curtains was falling across her cheek, and he could see an angry purpling bruise forming from her cheek bone to her jawline. It seemed Emile had been savage in his revenge, and he closed his eyes in an effort to regain control over his emotions.

"Cal?" He sat up sharply in his seat, a quick reply already on his lips. But her eyes were still closed, and her brow knitted together in panic and worry. His heart constricted as the possibility of nightmares entered his mind, and all thoughts of propriety went out the window as he stretched out on the bed next to her. As soon as his warmer body contacted hers she curled into him, the hand that had been clutching the comforter twisting itself in his shirt instead. With a quick lift of his hips he managed to pull the cover over him, allowing him to wrap both of his arms around Gillian's shaking form. She was awake now - he could feel the fluttering of her eyelashes under his chin - but she just breathed deeply as she clung to him.

"Cal?" her voice was steadier now, and he pulled back and lowered his chin to look into her eyes.

"Hmm?" He was ready to give her anything she asked, ready to stay with her until she could hold herself up again. At that moment, Gillian Foster could have asked for the world and Cal would have spent the rest of his days trying to find a way to give it to her. All of this passed over his face unguarded, and the beginning of a real smile was teasing at her lips.

"You stink." She shoved him half-heartedly and he laughed, unable to come up with a suitable retort to her obvious attempt to pull them back into familiar territory. "Go take a shower and then come get some sleep." He slid back to his feet, tucking the comforter around her. With only another moment's thought, he leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"I'll be right back, darling."

He showered and changed into his own sweatpants and tank top in lieu of his regular sleeping attire, or lack thereof, and shut off the bathroom light before stepping back out into the room. Even, shallow breathing told him she'd drifted back to sleep, so he checked the locks on the door one more time before settling silently back into bed beside her. She gravitated toward his warmth even in her sleep, and he slid an arm under her neck as he pulled her closer to him.

The last of his worry and anguish melted away as he listened to her soft breathing. The terror he had felt from that first phone call was finally replaced with relief, and he didn't resist the urge to kiss her head again. If her earlier barb was any indication, she'd be back to her feisty self in no time – something Cal was immensely grateful for. He'd planned for every contingency going into that house, but Gillian being broken beyond repair wasn't on his list. He'd had no plan for that, no clever scheme in the event that his partner's psyche had been shattered.

"Stop thinking," she murmured against his neck, settling her left arm across his chest as she adjusted to a more comfortable position.

"Sure," he whispered back, closing his eyes in an effort to calm his overactive mind. Finally it seemed to get the message, and he drifted off beside her.

When Cal woke Gillian was gone, and for one frightening moment he thought he'd dreamt the entire thing. But a sharp sound from the bathroom alerted him to another person in the hotel room and his pounding heart slowed. It was only noon – not nearly enough time for either of them to be considered well rested – so he assumed she'd be back. Ten minutes passed and the light still shone underneath the bathroom door, but the only sound he heard was his own breathing.

Tossing the covers off, he swung his legs over the edge with a groan. Every muscle in his body was protesting now, and Cal was reminded once again that he wasn't as young as he used to be. With a grunt of effort he lifted himself to his feet, stretching just far enough to ease the ache in his back but not to pull his injury.

"You alright?" her soft voice startled him, and he whirled quickly with a wince of pain. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He looked at her bathed in the soft light from the bathroom, her form mostly silhouetted against the doorframe. She seemed fine, and her voice held no indication of the normal stress he'd expected. He stepped around the bed cautiously, not wanting to frighten her if she'd only managed a façade of calm. But as he moved closer he could see the laughter in her eyes.

"I'm not going to bite you, Cal." She held out her arms and he stepped into them willingly, unable to resist his own jab.

"Pity that," he whispered, earning him a playful slap on his arm as she pulled away. "You alright?" He returned her question and she gave him a thin smile in return.

"I'm fine, Cal." He stared long and hard at her, but she deliberately kept her back to the light, shadowing her face from his intense gaze. "Stop it, I'm fine." It came out harsher than she had intended, and he just lifted one careful eyebrow in response. Letting out a long-suffering sigh, she lifted her arms and let them fall again in a helpless gesture. "What would you like me to say? That I was terrified? I'll admit that freely. I had no idea why they had taken me, or even what they wanted. But they didn't…they didn't hurt me." Cal sneered and reached out one finger, tracing the angry bruise on her face.

"What do you call that then, love?" She leaned away from his probing touch sharply, immediately regretting it at the hurt look in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Cal, I just…" For once she had no words, so she stayed silent as he stepped to her left. Using one hand, he cradled her face and turned her head so it was bathed in the light from the bathroom. With her guard down he read it all – the fear of her attack, the uncertainty she felt during her captivity, the relief of her rescue. She still couldn't quite believe that Cal had come for her, or even how he had done so, and she let him see the curiosity in her eyes. He let his hand drop from her face to her hand, tugging her along with him toward the bed.

"Come on and get some more rest. We'll order room service once you've slept a bit more." She opened her mouth – probably to tell him again how "fine" she was – but a yawn interrupted whatever she'd been about to say. To his credit, he didn't say another word; he just gave her a pointed look and gently pushed her onto the bed.

Cal ignored the faint flush in her pale cheeks as he tucked her in and smoothed the hair back from her forehead. At her confused look he just smiled in return, still amazed how they could have entire conversations without ever saying a word. When she finally closed her eyes he returned to his side of the bed, settling on top of the covers as his eyes drifted shut.

He woke before her, running a hand down his face as he took a deep breath. The light outside the curtains was fading, and Cal was relieved to see that it was just after eight. Other than the small interruption earlier, Gillian had slept for over twelve hours and as he looked down he could see how much healthier she looked already. He got up as quietly as he could and searched for clean clothes, glad he'd thought to pack at least a few items before he'd taken off from DC. He had just closed the bathroom door and shucked his tank top off when he heard her cry out, the fear in her tone overriding any sense of propriety.

"Foster, wake up." He sat on the edge of the bed, laying one firm hand on her shoulder to keep her from thrashing at him. When she didn't wake he leaned over, shaking her a little harder. "Gillian!" She bolted upright, her arms reaching out to fend off whatever attack she'd seen in her dream. But Cal was faster and he wrapped his arms around her back, crushing her to his chest. He could feel hot tears on his bare shoulder, and he realized with a grimace that he was shirtless.

Gillian didn't seem to mind – or it didn't even register – as she clung to him and cried. He whispered nonsense to her, and in the back of his mind he recalled murmuring the same things to a very young, very distraught Emily whenever she woke screaming. He didn't relax his hold when she did, but he moved one warm hand from her back to cradle her head against his shoulder. She took deep steadying breaths as she tried to regain control of her emotions. Finally he let her pull away from him, but not before he heard her breath hitch at the realization that she had been clinging to his bare chest. He, too, seem to realize their predicament and he stood a little awkwardly.

"I was going to change and order some food. You think you could eat something?" She sniffled one more time and rubbed her hand over her face, trying to compose herself. Finally, she took a deep breath and nodded, offering him a half-smile. He jerked one thumb over his shoulder and turned away. "I'll just…get changed then." He retreated into the bathroom to change, but also to give her space to collect herself again. Embarrassment would be overwhelming her right now, and the last thing he needed to do was call attention to her nightmare, or the way her body had shaken desperately against his own. She still had some demons to exorcise, but Cal didn't think it was anything that time wouldn't heal.

With clean clothes and a clean face he stepped back out into the room, surprised to see her up and about herself. She'd thrown the curtains back to reveal the Parisian cityscape, and she was currently digging through her own suitcase for something to wear. At the sound of his footsteps she turned and gave him a classic Foster I've-got-everything-under-control grin.

"How about we go out tonight?" Alarm bells sounded in his mind, and he quickly forced them into silence. But Gillian was quite possibly the second best in her field, and she caught his hesitation before he even spoke. "It's just that we've been sleeping all day, and I don't suppose either of us has had a decent meal in a few days. Not to mention my plans for sightseeing were rudely interrupted. So what do you say?" She was good – he'd learned just how good some months before when the truth about the Doyle case had come to light. Cal could see no hint of fear in her face, nor any waver in her voice; it was almost as if she hadn't been crying despairingly into his shoulder moments before. But her face still bore tear tracks, and the cheek that wasn't discolored was red and puffy.

"I'm not sure, Gil. What about…" he eyed her bruise warily, but she just shrugged.

"If I try to cover it up, it will look worse than if I just let it be."

"But what will people think…you know, out there?" He gestured vaguely to the window, and she laughed. It wasn't her normal, joyous laugh but it warmed his heart anyway to hear the sound from her lips.

"It'll be fine. Trust me." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, still unsure. "I'll pay." Her joke was the final straw, and he reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder.

"Fine, but I get to pick. I'll be back in ten minutes." He turned from her cry of protest to walk to the door, leaving her alone to change and get ready while he acquired transportation and directions to the best café in the area.

Talk over dinner was light, and Cal was sure to keep it to topics that weren't work related. But after they'd exhausted Emily's future plans and funny anecdotes from their years as partners, the conversation lapsed into silence. It was Gillian who breeched the invisible barrier as she wiped her mouth with her napkin and set it on top of her plate.

"So how is the company managing without us?" Cal offered her a mischievous smirk as he finished his glass of water.

"Well enough, I suppose. Torres is handling the day to days, and you know how efficient Heidi is. I expect she could probably run the place for weeks and no one would even know we were gone."

"We're not staying in Paris for weeks, Cal," Gillian admonished lightly, though she couldn't help but think about what it would be like to just take a vacation and go somewhere she didn't have to think about work.

"Not suggesting it, love. I'm just saying that Heidi runs a tight ship. Though I expect someone will be needing us to sign the payroll." He conceded the point at her smile, and moved on. "When is the last time you took an honest to God vacation, Foster?" She pretended to think about it, but she knew the answer even before he'd completed the sentence.

"Let's see…we've been partners for six years, so probably about nine years or so, right before I started working at the Pentagon full time. Alec and I went to New York City for five days and did touristy things." She didn't add that it had been their honeymoon, but she didn't have to. He narrowed his eyes at her, and she had to hold back a laugh at his serious expression. Finally he broke eye contact and sighed.

"That's it. When we get back you are taking a week off. I don't care if you just stay home and watch those sappy, Lifetime movies and eat junk food until you lapse into a sugar coma. But you need a break." It was her turn to narrow her eyes, not fooled for a moment by his flippant tone.

"Is this one of those things where you think you know what's best for me in spite of myself?"

"Yep." His grin was smug now, and she leaned forward a bit in response.

"And if I refuse?" She was toying with him now. The thought of a week off was enticing, and her mind was already whizzing through the possibilities.

"I'll just change the locks," he returned playfully, glad to see the old light in her eyes returning. "And I'm fairly certain I'm the only one here who knows how to pick a lock." Her face sobered then, and he cursed silently. He'd been very careful to avoid steering the conversation in any direction that would lead them to Cal's actions the past few days, but he'd walked into that one without even realizing it. The curiosity was back in her eyes, and he knew he wouldn't be able to distract her this time. She paid the check as he excused himself to retrieve the car, and by the time he'd pulled back into the hotel parking lot he could see the determined set of her jaw and the resolve in her eyes.

"You go up to the room; I'll be there in a bit." He waved her on but she refused to go, waiting until he'd spoken quietly with Adrianna at the front desk before falling in step beside him toward the stairs. He let her step up ahead of him, hoping she wouldn't notice how badly he was favoring his injured leg. He wasn't even sure if she remembered he had been wounded, or if she'd even known in the first place. She had been asleep the first time he'd doctored it, and he'd kept it covered since then.

"Cal?" her voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he could see the frown on her face as she looked back at him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm just…not as young as I used to be." She scrutinized him for a moment more before turning and continuing up the stairs. Once they reached their landing Cal led the way to their room, careful to avoid limping at all. But two steps away from the door he faltered, and his leg gave out. He managed to catch himself against the wall, but Gillian was next to him in an instant.

"Cal! What's wrong?" His fingers were pressed above the wound, and her eyes were drawn to his leg instantly. "Oh my God…" there was worry in her tone, but he could hear her disapproval as well. She fished the key card from his jacket pocket and opened the door, letting him lean on her a little as they hobbled the last few steps into the room.

"It's nothing, Gil. I'm fine."

"Let me see."

"It's fine," he insisted. "Just a flesh wound, is all. I already cleaned it up." Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and Cal knew there was nothing he could say that would get her to let it go. Unable to come up with any other argument, Cal pushed himself to his feet and unbuckled his pants. She took a step back at the unexpected move, but as his pants pooled to the floor her eyes were drawn to the ugly wound on his right leg. She sat on the bed next to him, careful to keep from touching the bandage or the area around the injury.

"Does it hurt?" He shrugged, his eyes staring at the top of her head as she inspected the damage.

"Not really," he admitted. "Unless I'm up and about for a while. It tore through the muscle, so as long as I stay off of it, it's fine." She remembered their dinner, and how she'd insisted they park a few blocks away from the café and walk through the moonlit streets. He could see the guilt on her features, and he quickly stood on his good leg and hoisted his pants back up around his waist.

"Cal, I –"

"It's alright, Gillian." She grabbed his hand before he could retreat across the room, and he let her pull him onto the bed as she scooted back. He laid on his left side facing her, their knees curled up and touching as they propped their heads in their hands. For a while neither of them said a word, they just stared into each other's eyes. Her free hand lifted to his face, tracing a light path down his cheek to his shoulder, then continuing to grasp his hand between them.

Cal took a breath then, detailing for her every moment from that first morning at the office without her to interrogating Antoine to planning her rescue in this very hotel room. She had known some of the details about his past from previous conversations and off-hand stories over dinner. But listening to him talk about the ease with which he slipped back into what he'd coined "the business" was a bit terrifying. As he finished, her eyes were shining with unshed tears, still unable to fully comprehend the depth of this man's devotion to her. He was silently watching her, waiting for her response to his story, but she couldn't find any words to convey all of the thoughts swirling in her head.

Slowly she leaned forward, pressing her lips to the side of his mouth in an intimate imitation of their usual greeting. He stayed completely still, his eyes boring into hers as she pulled away with a smile. He returned it easily, using his right arm to reach up and pull her to him. She didn't resist, instead using the opportunity to tuck herself neatly under his chin as her legs slipped between his. He pulled her closer still, sighing in relief as she relaxed in his embrace. It was just like them, he thought, to communicate without words, and he accepted her silent gratitude with nothing more than a smile. They laid like that for what seemed like hours, just enjoying the silence and the company. Finally, Gillian relaxed her hold but didn't move away from his arms. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of Cal's aftershave and the crisp, clean smell of the hotel sheets. After a few more moments of silence, she finally voiced the only thing left on her mind.

"Can we go home now?"

Well, there it is. The finale. I tried to make it a little longer while still leaving it open-ended. In time, I may visit this universe again. There are still a few unanswered questions (Emile, for instance), and a sequel is not out of the question. I also didn't want to have Cal and Gillian just go ahead and admit their feelings here. It didn't seem like the time or place, though I did try to bring them a bit closer to that mark than before. Perhaps if a sequel is ever written, that issue can be resolved as well.

As always, your comments and thoughts are always welcome and appreciated. Thank you for reading.