A/N: With some hours remaining before New Year's Eve celebrations start, I thought I could provide you with another installment. There is no direct reference to the episode but considering how it ended, the connection should be obvious.
The usual disclaimer applies.
3x13 Killer App
The room is dark.
Cal can't tell whether it's day or night. Perhaps the curtains are drawn close. Save that he doesn't remember whether there are curtains. He tries to determine how late, or rather early, it was when he fell asleep but considering what happened, there is not the slightest chance in hell he will remember that either. It was an exceptional night. Spectacular, one might say.
Loker stops the car in front of a huge building. The letters on the roof compose the name of a television network. Torres raises an eyebrow. The name means money, lots of money. A potential client they have to impress. She whisks some invisible fluffs off of her pants and raises her chin. Let's do this.
"You sure Lightman and Foster don't want to take care of this?" she asks as they get out of the car. Torres has a distinct ego. However, she would never get in the way of her bosses. Well, get in Lightman's way, that is.
"Yeah," Loker answers, pretending to fiddle with his bag. Better to keep his answer curt and his body turned away. No clues for the natural. She will get suspicious soon enough. You have no idea what's going on, he thinks and has a hard time keeping the smirk off his face. Oh, how he likes to have an ace up his sleeve.
Suddenly the room is flooded with light.
Bright sunlight blinds Cal and he blinks. Once, twice, and a third time until he is sure that the silhouette of the woman standing in front of the window is no apparition. So there are curtains. And she has drawn them back. He lets his eyes wander. Although she has wrapped a blanket around her, there still is naked skin. Lots of it. A very sexy naked back.
Gillian turns around. Her beaming smile does funny things to his heart. "Did you have a good sleep?"
They are walking down a long hallway with many doors. Next to some of the doors, a red light is signaling that no one is allowed to enter because a show is being recorded inside. Other doors open and close, people walking in and out fast, talking loudly. Everyone seems to be in a hurry; the air buzzes with energy.
"So, what's the case?" Torres asks, only to be distracted when a man passes them. "Was that?" She turns around, looking after the man.
"Yup, it was." Loker recognized the famous anchor, relieved that Torres gets sidetracked. Then again, there is not much time left. Perhaps he should better tell her now. "Listen, about the case," he starts just when another door opens right in front of them.
"There you are. We have been waiting for you," a woman he has never seen before states ecstatically and pulls them inside. They have to meet a deadline after all.
"Are you hungry?"
Gillian laughs. "Is that your stomach or Freud asking?" She stretches herself luxuriously and then rolls around so that she ends up half on top of him. For a moment, Cal has forgotten the question and she laughs some more about the look on his face. Who would've thought that it's so easy to dazzle him? Then she reaches out for the phone across his chest, causing the blanket to slip away.
"This is room 1013," she says, holding her breath when Cal's hand draws lazy circles on her back first before it pays attention to lower regions. He loves her backside. Among other things. "Yes, I'm still here. I'd like to...um...order breakfast for two and...um...a bottle of your best champagne. Thank you." She hangs up and moves to slide back to her side of the bed, but Cal firmly holds her in place.
"None of that, darlin'," he murmurs, "I'm not finished yet." God, she loves his voice when it's breathy like that, when it's like that because of her.
"Wow, you look slutty," Loker's intonation is nothing less than admiring as he keeps staring at Torres. "You know, I had that dream once..."
"What is going on?" Torres interrupts him. Her voice has a dangerous undertone
For the last ten minutes, complete strangers have been touching and talking to them non-stop, applying make-up, doing their hair. Loker is surprised that Ria restrained herself and no one got hurt. So far and as long as they were surrounded by people, that is. They are alone now.
"Everything's fine," he assures her, "We're here to be interviewed about our work."
"What? Are you crazy? Lightman is going to kill us." She jumps up and is halfway out the door when Eli grabs her wrist.
"Wait. He won't."
"Oh, he will. Better believe me."
"No, look at me. He won't."
That stops her. She looks at him and frowns. "Why would Lightman let us make an interview about micro expressions? It's his firm, his science. We're just the help."
Loker flinches because of the way she states this matter-of-factly and because it's true. From Lightman's perspective at least.
The door opens and another man they've never seen before sticks his head in, "Five minutes. Please follow me." In the background they hear the intro music of the talk show. It's too late to back out without causing a stir.
Eli holds Ria's gaze. Trust me. She is still tense and not really convinced. It shows in her body language as well as in her face. But when he walks out the door, she follows him. Go figure.
"How are we going to tell them?" Cal asks. "Are we going to tell them?"
"You worry too much. Stop worrying." Gillian takes the champagne flute out of his hand and kisses him. The bottle is empty, the bright sunlight outside has become dim. "I'm going to take a shower," she announces. "Want to have dinner out afterwards?"
The hotel has a fantastic restaurant. It comes highly recommended with a breathtaking view and a starred chef.
"Do you? We could have room service."
"Again?" Gillian has a giggle over his suggestion, patting his chest before she gets out of bed. Walking over to the bath, she gives him the eye. "Whatever you want, Cal. Whatever you want."
The door closes behind her. Cal briefly considers joining her, but the sound of the running water is soothing and the thought of Gillian taking a shower in the next room creates a domestic feel that is even better from where he is, laying in bed and inhaling her scent that is everywhere. He looks out of the window. The city is a temptation at dusk. A paradise of broken promises and lost illusions that couldn't exist anywhere else than in the middle of a desert. And yet, some unfulfilled dreams come true for a chosen few. Cal has always had a special bond with this place. It is oddly adequate that they are here.
His stomach rumbles. Breakfast and champagne weren't enough to compensate the calories they have been burning last night and all day. Cal turns on the TV. The hotel channel has an overview of the menu for room service. When the screen comes on, though, he sees Loker. Cal blinks. He must be dreaming. But when he opens his eyes again, Loker is still there. And Torres. Sitting in what looks like the setting of a talk show. Loker is talking. His mouth moves. Cal sits up and turns up the volume.
"...The Lightman Group," Loker finishes his sentence. He talks about his firm. That wanker has the nerve to sit there, smile into the camera and talk about his firm. There is a flash explaining to the viewer that the theme of the day is "Body language & other revealing clues that give away what you are really thinking". What the hell?
"So the owner of the company you two are working for, Dr. Lightman...," one of the talk show hosts addresses Torres.
"Dr. Lightman and Dr. Foster are the owners," Ria sets straight. "They are equal partners."
"Of course," the host corrects herself. "What can you tell me about them? It must be intriguing to work together so closely and always know when the other is lying or trying to hide something."
"Well..." Ria looks as if she wants to be anywhere but there. "We... They invented this line..."
"It's not that easy," Loker takes over. "The fact that you are able to see certain things doesn't mean anything without context. In order to find out the truth, it's not enough to know someone is lying, you also need to know the reason why."
The bloke has the nerve to quote Foster.
"Gillian," Cal shouts. He jumps out of bed, frantically searching for his phone. He has to call Loker to stop that. Or Torres. Or both. Or even better the talk show host to tell her he will sue. Cal's foot gets caught in Gillian's bra and he almost trips as he makes out his pants on the floor. He obviously lost them somewhere between entrance and bed last night. There is a bulge in his pants. Most likely his cell. Still, what's with the symbolism? Cal picks his pants up and finds his phone in one of the pockets. "Gillian," even louder this time.
"What is it?" The bathroom door opens.
"Look!" Cal points with one hand at the TV, his other hand scrolling through the directory of his cell.
It's not a commonplace sight. A stark-naked, angry Cal. Gillian can't decide whether it's fascinating or funny. Ultimately both. She wraps a towel around her, not bothering to wipe herself dry, her feet leaving wet footprints on the carpet as she walks over to him. When she sees the source of his anger, she freezes.
"He is talking about my firm," Cal whines.
"Our firm," Gillian corrects him absent-mindedly. She can't believe what she is seeing.
"Huh?" Cal glances over at her. "Oh, yeah, yeah, our firm. 'Course, darlin'." He tilts his head back. "Doesn't want to be there, that one." He points at Torres. "That one does." Loker.
"Dr. Lightman and Dr. Foster are excellent scientists and superiors. Especially Dr. Lightman has been a great mentor for me ever since I joined The Lightman Group," Loker just says. The smirk in his face is invisible. Cal and Gillian see and hear it, anyway.
"I'm going to kill him," Cal mumbles. He has found Loker's number and presses dial.
"Cal, calm down." Gillian takes the phone out of his hands and ends the call.
"Oi! What'cha doin'?"
"There was a last minute request for an interview yesterday," Gillian explains. "We were almost on our way to the airport when I got the call. So I asked Loker."
"You... What?"
"They said they had some questions about our science. A quick interview. No more than five minutes. It's a well-know television network. I thought it would be good PR. For us. For the firm. I didn't know it would air today. I assumed they would show us the screening in advance so that we could approve it. Otherwise I would have told you."
"As to their relationship, Dr. Lightman and Dr. Foster are very close," Loker's voice continues to fill the room. The talk show hosts lean forward interested. This is the kind of information that boosts ratings. Torres looks as if she is about to strangle Loker with her bare hands, or have a stroke, or both.
"So you're saying you're OK with that?"
Gillian takes a deep breath, screwing up her face, "Not really." She takes a closer look at Loker's appearance. "What have they done to his hair?"
A jingle announces the end of the show and Gillian and Cal sigh relieved in unison.
"Still gonna kill him," Cal states as he catches something in Loker's face. The show is still on air. Cal frowns, "What exactly did you tell him?"
"That we were going to Vegas. That we had an appointment there that couldn't wait." Gillian looks back and forth between Cal's face and the screen. "Loker..." She shakes her head in disbelief. Oh no, please no. How could she not have noticed? "He was joking, asking me if we were flying to Vegas to get married, but I said no. I said no," she repeats as she sees Cal's bewildered expression.
"Never crossed your mind that we've been training Loker for years? That he might see or hear you're lying?"
Actually, it hadn't. Gillian has been Cal's blind spot for so long that she's used to getting away with everything. Let alone that other things occupied her mind yesterday. She was distracted, imbued with pleasant anticipation.
"Well, I guess we can make it just as well official," Loker won't shut up. Can't somebody turn off the mics? Anybody? Cal knows what is coming next before he hears the words broadcasted nationally. "Happy Honeymoon." Eli waves into the camera as the credits start to roll and they see and hear Torres shout, "What?".
Cal looks at Gillian, "That was..."
"...awkward," she acknowledges.
They stand next to each other in silence, staring at the TV screen until the commercial break interrupts their trance.
"All right then." Cal shakes off his anger. Stranger things have happened. Albeit not many. "Guess we don't need to tell them anymore." Only now, he takes Gillian's appearance in. Her wet hair and the towel that barely covers her skin. Well, that and her shocked expression. "You worry too much. Stop worrying, luv."
His words are buoyant, their meaning isn't. Something happens in her face when she watches him and reads his expression. Something he has never seen before. At least not that undisguised. It's funny. Here they are, knowing each other since forever, and yet, everything's new.
Cal pulls at the towel so that it slips away and falls on the floor. "Happy honeymoon, luv."
To be continued
Happy New Year!