Ugh god it felt like shards of glass being pushed behind his eyes while a hammer pounded against the side of his head. Cal pressed the heels of his hands into the sockets of his eyes, trying to shut out the pain. He'd go months without an attack like this. Actually, it could have been more than a year since he last had a headache this bad. And he knew it wasn't just a stress headache or a dehydration drumming, or a throb brought on by not enough sleep. This was about his head injury and even though it had been two and a half years since the accident occurred, he was still not completely symptom free. Sometimes, when he needed it the most, he could not for the life of him remember something simple, like the postal address for the Lightman Group.

At this point, it was more disheartening than frustrating.

"Hey," a soft voice called. Cal straightened up again, attempting to fix his mask, and then he saw it was Gillian, Owen's car seat in one hand, her purse slung over her shoulder, and the baby bag in her other hand. She gave him a concerned expression and he shifted to get up and help her with her load but she had already put the baby bag down on one of the chair's opposite his desk; she gestured he should stay where he was. "Are you ok?" She almost whispered, setting the sleeping Owen on the other chair, facing them, so they could see; just in case.

"Fine," Cal croaked and mother of god it was worse when he moved his jaw.

"You're such a liar," Gillian accused. Satisfied Owen was stable in his car seat, cords clear and his airway unobstructed, Gillian came around the desk to lean against it in front of him. She reached out and very lightly ran her fingers through his hair, on the side of his scar and it actually helped. "Headache huh?" She practically whispered.

Cal thought about nodding, thought better of it. "Just struck me outta nowhere."

"Did you take something?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to move. I think there's a possibility I'll blow chunks."

Gillian's lip quirked slightly.

"Or get up and black out," Cal added with a groan he immediately regretted.

"Is it a migraine? Because you should come home if you're that bad."

"I don't think so," Cal grimaced. He was having a hard time raising his eyes to meet hers, which wasn't really helping his cause. "It's just a poundin' ache."

"You know there are pills in your desk. You don't have to leave the room. You could wheel yourself to the study and lie down for a few minutes."

"There's what where?"

Gillian got up again and turned, crouching down to Cal's middle drawer. She pulled it open slowly and carefully and took out a white medicine bottle. Still, crouching, she twisted off the cap and tapped out two of the tablets, reaching out her hand to drop them into his. Cal took them wordlessly, too uncomfortable to be surprised. "Did you put those there?" He asked, watching her put the lid back on.

"Yes. After the last time you had a bad headache. I did tell you."

He must have forgotten. "Thank you," he was grateful.

"Water?" Gillian offered and reached in to the drawer again to produce a bottle, still sealed.

Cal vaguely wondered how she had snuck that in and, more importantly, how had he not noticed? While he swallowed the pain medication he wondered at what else slipped beneath his radar. Was he still on top of his game?

"You'll feel better," Gillian murmured, taking the water from him and reclaiming her perch against his desk. Cal scooted his chair closer to her, so she was standing within the embrace of his thighs and rested his head against her stomach, wrapping his arms around her back and sighing. Gillian smoothed her fingers over his head lightly, massaging his scalp a little.

"Thank you," Cal murmured.

"It's ok honey."

"You take such good care of me."

"I try," Gillian whispered.

Cal waited for the pounding to stop, or at least ease, and clung on to his wife, relieved she was there. Her timing was impeccable. "I might need a speech to prop me up in a minute."

"Prop you up?"

"Remind me I'm not a complete basket case."

"You're not a complete basket case," Gillian immediately parroted. "It's just a headache Cal; it doesn't mean you're royally screwed."

Cal wanted to laugh, he really did, but when it came to his brain, time still revealed niggling doubts and concerns. "Tell me again."

"It's just a headache Cal. You're fine." She soothed her fingers at the perfect pressure, enough to help ease the tension. "There's nothing to worry about," she told him firmly.