Chapter 5

As Cal swept out of the interview suite and back into the lab he noticed immediately that Gillian was missing. Not stopping his quick lob-sided march he said, "Get all the digging you can dig done on our newest client. Figure out his motives and what he's covering up," as he breezed through the room passed Loker and Turner. A bemused and irritated Ria Torres chasing his wake.

As Lightman exited the lab as quickly as he entered it, the remaining trio shared a look. He was being weird again. Foster was being weird. He was obviously intrigued by the case, but unwilling to let himself be distracted by it. Foster seemed a lot less interested in the case, but desperate to be distracted by anything.

Lightman headed straight for Gillian's office. He had feared that the argument yesterday would have made her put distance between them. It hadn't, and she had been the one to make the first move in making up afterwards. But it had created a strange dynamic between them. The mood was balancing on a knife edge. She was openly vulnerable about the topic that had dropped itself into their world quite by accident, which made her extra cuddly and clingy. Their make-up session this morning, paired with the fact that he didn't push her to talk last night, created an atmosphere between them that part of him loved. But the reason for it, he hated it. He wanted to talk. Clear the air. Make the right decision and move forward. It was deeply uncomfortable for him to be the one on this side of the argument. He was the avoider. He was the one to bury his head in the sand and create confrontation to avoid the real confrontation. He liked it that way. He knew that game. On the contrary, while she wasn't creating confrontation, she was actively shutting down the difficult conversation, and instead opting to wrap herself around him and fabricate sunshine and rainbows. He liked the wrapping around. That was good. But for once he needed to get the difficult conversation out there. He knew he was right on this. It just felt right.

He didn't pause outside her door. He didn't knock. He barrelled in without hesitation and headed straight for the chair opposite hers, only her desk separating them. "They're having a look into the client, figure out what his real game is," he said on his way. He dropped his body heavily into the seat and waited for her to turn from her screen to look at him.

The moment her eyes landed upon him he continued. "What you hiding in here for, eh? Case too boring for ya?"

"I'm not hiding, Cal. I'm working."

"Sure you are. Can we talk now?"

"About?"

"You know what about."

Her entire being tensed. "We're at work," she said with a clipped tone. She started to turn away from him when his words interrupted her actions.

"I talked to Emily about the general idea of it all."

Gillian froze mid seat swivel.

"She's all for it."

Gillian turned back to face him. "All for it?"

"Supports us in whatever we choose to do. Thinks we can make it work. Not getting her hopes up until we make a decision. Together. But she's voting yes."

Cal could see the emotions swirling within her. Each one fighting for dominance. Sadness, fear, anger; each one being tightly locked away.

"She's a teenager. She has no idea-"

"No, she has no idea. You're right. But she knows it's important. She knows what's at stake. She knows the situation, and the context, and she thinks we'd be a great match for them."

"It's way more-"

"Way more difficult than we can imagine. Yeah. I said," he paused but hastily continued when he say Gillian about to make the next argument, "and if we were successful, it's way more difficult to adapt than we could imagine," he went on, noting that she was being to run out of patience, "and the process is invasive. They'd want to interview her. Ask her all sorts of difficult questions about us, and me and her mum, and all that stuff. I told her… She thinks it's worth the challenges, Gill. She knows how important it is."

Gillian stared at him, her eyes settling around his chin rather than dare to meet his eyes. He could see that she was losing her control. One look into his eyes and he knew the tears would come quick. She'd kick his arse if he made her cry at work. He knew not to push any more.

"Anyway. You're right. We're at work," he said, "just… we do need to talk about this. And soon. I just thought you should know where Em stands with it."

"Ok."

"Ok. Later then," he finished as he stood and moved around the desk to place a quick kiss to the top of her head, smoothing her hair as he moved away.

She caught his hand just as he lost contact with her and stood from her chair. He pulled her to him for a quick hug and she murmured into his shoulder, "I'm sorry, ok?"

"Don't be daft, what for?" he asked confused and concerned.

"I know you want to get this out there, but I can't do this here. It's too much."

"I know. I know, love. We'll talk when you're ready, ok?"

She nodded into his neck and kissed him lightly there as she pulled away to a more professional distance.

"I mean, ideally before the oldest one turns eighteen though," he joked.

She burst into a choked laugh, the sound fighting in her throat with the sob that threated to erupt.

"Later," he whispered into her skin, brushing his lips against her forehead quickly. He turned then and left the room as quickly as he had entered it, knowing he was leaving her upset and regretting having broached the matter here, in this safe space for her.

"Right, you've had ten minutes. Tell me all about our man Pickford and his vendetta against poor old Bill."

"We've had ten minutes," came the reply from an incredulous Mark Turner.

"You've had most of the bloody day, and you agreed to take this one on," Lightman chastised him. "So come on. Have at it," he rounded off, far more chipper and pointing at the array of machinery in the lab.

Turner offered a heavy dramatic sigh then gestured over to where Loker sat, leading them over to stand behind him.

"Owen Pickford. Model citizen," Turner began, presenting to the room with a dramatic opening that Cal Lightman was almost proud of. Almost. "I've been doing some research on our man here. Been looking into our man Brackley too."

He paused, waiting for the suspense to build. Lightman was not a patient man, and Mark Turner liked to push his buttons. They made a game of it.

"And!?"

Perfect.

"Well, these two used to be real friendly way back when. Lately they seem to be avoiding each other. But we don't know why. It doesn't make sense when you look at their common business ventures. Plenty of events and occasions where you'd expect them to be side by side, only one of them shows up. Usually, Brackly. So, we think it has to be something personal. The money thing doesn't add up. Brackly must have done something to piss off Pickford."

"We've done as much of a background check as we could manage in ten minutes and without any access to police records and such. The guy's clean," Loker offered, defeated.

"Where's Torres? Hopefully she's out following him, yes?"

"She went for coffee."

Lightman's face dimmed in disbelief as his hand rose to pinch the bridge of his nose before a hint of a sigh escaped his lips.

Ria Torres had left the lab in a moment of exasperation. She didn't know if they should have taken on this case without Foster or Lightman's approval. She didn't know if Lightman was testing then, playing them, of just being Lightman with them. And she knew there was something a little off between her two employers today. She was all at once worried and drawn in by the subtly stranger interactions between them. For months now they had been, well, just better. They had been at ease with each other in a way that they had been when she had first met them, but even still better than that. They had been assured and comfortable and quite frankly happier than she could ever remember seeing them. She wondered sometimes if this had been how things were before she knew them, knowing that when she arrived on the scene things were already in turmoil for each of the pair. Him still getting over his divorce, her still getting over the loss of her daughter. Both of them slowly discovering that they were falling in love with one another but unable to do anything about it. Things seemed to have finally settled into place for them, and it had seemed so natural. Ria wondered if perhaps the honeymoon phase was over, but the idea of that just didn't seem to fit them. Despite all of the uncertainty, the fighting, the jealousy; they still seemed so solid to her. They still felt like a unit, even under the threat of fracture.

Preoccupied with her digression of thought as she entered the quaint little café that she liked to go to when she needed the good coffee, her thoughts were abruptly drawn back to their case when she spotted Owen Pickford seated in the back of the café with a woman who looked familiar. Pickford was sat facing Ria's direction, opposite the woman whom she couldn't quite see clearly. But she knew she had seen her before.

Once she had ordered her coffee, Ria quietly made her way outside for a better vantage point. Making sure not to be spotted by the subject of her interest, she moved decisively by the front of the café, waiting until the moment was just right to take a good look. Once she did, she knew she had to get back to the lab straight away. They had some work to do.