A/N: For the general setting of the story see the A/N of the prologue. In this chapter, Cal and Gillian meet for the first time. It was a challenge and very interesting to write them under these different circumstances. I imagined them being a little younger (given the timeline) and edgier as they are on the show but hope that I still managed to stay in character. As to the prison I mention here – I did some research and made some things up, hoping that the mix will be plausible.

Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. There is no greater reward. And this also goes for the guest reviewers since I can't get back to you personally.

The usual disclaimer applies (see prologue).

- Nothing To Fear -

Be ready, her superior had told her and it had sounded as if the operation would start the next day, but nothing happened. The following days, Gillian came to work more modestly dressed than on a regular day because she didn't want to show up in prison in her usual tight skirts and high heels. On the fourth day, though, she has no other choice than to get even more dressed up. Her fiancé has an important business meeting in the evening. He wants her to accompany him and her schedule doesn't allow her enough time to get home and change clothes after work. Alec works as a policy adviser. His career is at a crucial point. The indications grow stronger that it will be a matter of sink or swim in the foreseeable future. Therefore, every public event is also an application and having a good-looking woman at his side who has her own successful career might tip the scales in his favor.

Gillian can't tell Alec about the assignment for security reasons. It is eating away at her. She doesn't know what will happen, is afraid that she could be in danger because she saw the worry in the face of her superior although he tried to hide it. Yet, she can't say anything and just wishes it will be over soon. Even more than the fact that she can't unburden herself to her fiancé, though, Gillian hates to keep secrets, or worse, have to lie. And that was what she had to do this morning when Alec reminded her of the important meeting. Thankfully reminded her because she would have forgotten about it otherwise. She – the queen of structure and organization. Alec should have noticed that something was going on, but he already was caught up in thinking about the upcoming meeting. So when she realized that she would have to get dressed for the meeting right then and there and hesitated, he got frustrated and angry instead of worried because he wrongly assumed she didn't want to accompany him. It didn't take much to convince him of the contrary – only a few kisses and soothing words – but unlike on other days when they had an argument (and it seems to happen more and more often lately), she wasn't able to calm down afterwards. The tension is still trapped within her and she doesn't know whether it's due to the assignment or for personal reasons.

Of course, it has to be this day of all days that she receives a call at noon, informing her to cancel her appointments for the rest of the day and drive to the Federal Correctional Institution Cumberland to have her first workday there, so to speak. On the way to her car, Gillian realizes that she not only is completely inappropriately dressed but that she also is going to miss Alec's meeting. The journey to Maryland alone will take up to two hours, depending on traffic.

She doesn't have to make an effort to let her voice sound regretful when she calls him, telling him something about an unexpected, urgent meeting she has to attend. Gillian actually regrets that she can't be with him. Still, she wants to make sure that he suspects nothing and overdoes it a bit so that – another time – Alec should have noticed it and be worried, but just like in the morning his own frustration prevents that. All she hears in his voice is barely suppressed anger and (even worse) disappointment.

"Really, Gillian? You can't skip one meeting to be with me? You know how important it is. Are you aware that you choose your work over us?"

It is a recurring subject during their arguments. The alleged fact that she appreciates her work too much, implying that she appreciates it more than their relationship, more than him. It's simply not true. Gillian likes working as a psychologist very much, thinks of it rather as a calling than a mere job. But their relationship always has been her first priority. If anything, she could reverse the accusation because Alec has been doing a lot of overtime recently, but she doesn't want to add fuel to the fire by pointing out that he obviously has double standards. She sighs.

"Alec, I..."

Gillian hates to hurt him and hates even more that his behavior hurts her in return since she can't tell him what this really is about. She needs his support, too, and has to deal with his rejection on top of everything else instead.

"Gilly, I need you tonight," he interrupts her.

It's a last, desperate effort. His voice is honest. This is not only about politics and his career. This is personal. Alec needs the woman he loves at his side. The woman he wants to marry. They live together; he proposed three months ago. She wears the engagement ring, but they haven't talked about getting married ever since, let alone made any plans. Not this year has become an unspoken agreement between them. Somehow, something else always seems to be more important. Gillian suddenly realizes that they are on a dangerous path. If they want to avoid alienation, they both need to change their focus away from something else back toward themselves.

I need you, too. The words are stuck in her throat; she has to swallow them down before she is able to speak.

"I have to do this, Alec," she says. "Believe me, I would be with you if I had a choice."

He only snorts in return.

"I'll make up for it."

"See you at home," he replies curtly before he hangs up.

Gillian visited prisons before to evaluate inmates. Yet, the atmosphere gets to her every time anew. She's not claustrophobic, but the imagination not to be able to leave of her own accord, being surrounded by the same gray concrete walls every day, makes her shudder. A prison guard meets her at the entrance and leads her to the administrative sector. He doesn't comment on her clothes although she notices his disapproval as a guard even if he obviously appreciates it as a man. She doesn't explain because she can't since no one in here knows about the assignment. All they know is that she is the substitute, covering for the temporarily absent psychologist who usually works here. At least they don't have to go through the sectors where the inmates have their jail cells to get to the administrative sector; Gillian feels uncomfortable enough as it is, the gazes of the other guards making her skin prickle.

The office of the psychologist is surprisingly tasty furnished. Warm colors and love for detail. Relieved, Gillian sits down behind the desk. Maybe this will work after all. It will only be a few hours per week and all she has to do is her job. Well, mainly.

Her first two patients are regular inmates. It is a medium-security prison; so she doesn't have to expect the worst crime-wise.

According to his file, the first one was sentenced for a white-collar crime and malicious injury. He is an educated, eloquent man, someone Gillian can imagine to meet at a party. For a brief moment, she has to pull herself together so as not to space out, pondering on what might have happened in his life that made him go astray and led him here. Because of his confession and mitigating circumstances, he was allowed to continue therapy in prison. The man still deals with the death of his mother and the rejection of his father during his childhood. Things he for sure doesn't want the other inmates to find out. Gillian skims the entries. The other psychologist did a good job therapy-wise as well as regarding an accurate documentation. It won't be difficult to continue the treatment although it always takes a while for patient and therapist to adjust to each other. Time they probably won't have (and despite her bad conscience she hopes they won't because that means the operation will be over soon). As a psychologist, she resents the thought that the patients might suffer a disadvantage due to the personnel back-and-forth. She has no influence on it, though; so she tries not to think too much about it. When the session starts, Gillian has to concentrate to make herself forget about his orange overall, constantly reminding her of the unusual situation, but after a few minutes her experience gains the upped hand. Years of practice are a routine she can always rely on.

Her second patient is not as easy. A friendly man, almost harmless in appearance despite being tall and muscular. But when she checks his file, Gillian finds out that he was sentenced for attempted murder. His therapy is part of the conviction. He used to have fits of rage that ultimately led to the murder attempt. Now his medication, accompanied by therapy, takes at least the edge off his outbursts. Gillian is thankful that, unlike her other patient, he has to wear handcuffs. She also realizes that the guard in front of her door not only takes the inmates from their cells to her office and back. He is also there for security reasons. To protect her. This time, it is more difficult to forget about the circumstances and treat the man properly.

And then it's showtime. Cal Atherton, the undercover agent, is next. When he comes in, Gillian has to suppress a laugh. He is about her height, strolling like a defiant teenager, slouching on the couch as if he considers coming back later to watch his favorite TV show and have some popcorn. But then his facial expression changes. He springs to his feet, approaching her, and her smile freezes. They are supposed to be on the same side. In an instant she knows, though, that this man is dangerous, his eccentric behavior merely a cover to make his enemies underestimate him. Instinctively, she looks at the door, reminding herself that there is a guard outside. Then she becomes aware that he is not a real inmate, catches her breath, and straightens herself mentally. She doesn't have to be afraid of him.

"Nervous, luv? Nothing to fear here, aye."

Gillian doesn't even know where to begin. She should reprimand him for calling her that. Luv. What is this accent, anyway? Scottish? British? He tries very hard to overdo it to make it even more difficult for her to place it. Actually, it sounds very sexy, and for some reason, she knows that he does it just for fun. To irritate her. It is working. His behavior rattles her much more than it should. She expected a serious looking man who would be all business, not someone who acts as if it all is a game.

He looks at her and reaches out his hand, his palm turned upwards, a scornful grin on his face. What does he want now? Obviously, he saw right through her. Recognized her as the rookie she is when it comes to things like that. Undercover operations. Secret assignments. Things that are his territory, given his self-confident, almost arrogant, behavior but not hers. Not even close.

She remembers that she needs to put him in his place. He is not her patient; she is not his therapist. Nonetheless, she won't allow him to use a term of endearment when talking to her. But before she can say anything, he kind of interrupts her in advance.

"The phone, luv," he points out, waving his outstretched hand to underline his words.

Damnit! The bug-proof phone. She is supposed to give it to him as soon as he arrives, his contact most likely already waiting for his call. Gillian fumbles around in her bag until she finds it and gives it to him, her need to reprimand him taking a backseat. They have bigger fish to fry.

He turns around, taking a few steps away from her as if that would make the call more private. She will hear every word, anyway, since they are still in the same room. Only when he keeps talking, Gillian realizes that she doesn't know what to do. She should have brought a crossword puzzle or a book. She inspects the collection of specialist books on the shelf and then sits back down behind her desk. He is still talking, looking at her in between, making her wonder whether he has been doing this the entire time. Something tells her he has. He winks at her, smiling, and before she can stop herself, she smiles back at him. What on earth is she doing? It is her first assignment as part of an undercover operation and here she is flirting when she felt offended only moments ago. Her emotions and reactions are all over the place. Gillian turns the page of her notebook and starts to write a grocery list. Anything to appear busy, professional. She can do this. Milk. Yogurt. Olives. Cheese.

Suddenly she realizes that he stopped talking, already standing in front of her desk, turning his head so that he can read what she wrote down. Gillian flips the notebook shut, but it is already too late. He saw her grocery list.

"Put a point steak on it," he says. "Food here is a real disappointment."

Like the other inmates, he wears the latest fashion – the usual orange, short-sleeved overall. There is a tattoo on his upper arm she can see partly when he moves. Gillian doesn't like tattoos. Usually. Somehow, this one appeals to her.

"Like what you see?" His smile has turned into a grin again. Predatory.

Again, he saw through her. Effortlessly. How does he do that? Gillian has a reputation to be able to wear the perfect pokerface. In fact, that is the reason she won most of the poker games at college. Neither of her patients or colleagues know what she is thinking whenever she studies them. He not only is the first to find out. He did it in what felt like seconds. Gillian feels very uncomfortable all at once, almost naked under his scrutinizing look. Metaphorically speaking, of course. This has to stop.

She stands up and reaches out her hand.

"I'm Dr. Gillian Foster. Nice to meet you, Mr. Atherton. Now that we've established in spades that I am the lesser-experienced of us, maybe we find a way to kill time until your official therapy session is over." She glimpses at her watch. They have 20 minutes left of the usual 50-minute session. "Unless you want my advise as a psychologist, that is, but somehow I doubt that."

Touché! For the first time, she sees something close to respect in his eyes. When he moves to sit down, she does the same. It feels as if they agreed to a truce.

"So tell me something about yourself, Dr. Foster," he asks. There is still some smug complacency in his voice but mostly interest. Unfortunately, he takes more interest in her than she prefers. "Something I don't already know like the facts that you are a real psychologist, engaged and intrigued with my tattoo."

She simply should stop counting the times he is able to do a number on her. It's 5:1 in his favor and he keeps winning, threw the Dr. Foster she used as an introduction to distance herself back at her, eager to point out that he noticed it all – the engagement ring, the way she gazed at his tattoo. It makes her wonder what else he saw and hasn't pointed out yet.

Gillian sighs resignedly, leans back, and folds her arms. It was fun when it started and felt like flirting in spite of his cocky behavior and the surreal circumstances. Right now, though, he behaves like a spoiled child that can't get enough attention. Ok then, no truce.

"What is your favorite color?"

He is surprised by the unexpected question but answers anyway, "Blue."

"Truth or dare?"

This makes him grin broadly. He raises his eyebrows. "Wanna play?"

"Just choose," she keeps her voice steady.

He starts to wriggle about on his chair. Good. This is making him uncomfortable because he doesn't know what she is up to. He answers after a brief pause, "Truth."

"Are you married? Do you have children?"

The pokerface that usually is her field of expertise? He has one, too. A pretty good one, actually. He is wearing it right now because she overstepped a line, did it on purpose. Asking an undercover agent about his family is inappropriate and intrusive at least, if not dangerous. Since they are in her office that is considered safe ground, she took the risk though. He deserves it.

"Not married. No children."

She can tell that he didn't want to answer that one but didn't want to give in either. Gillian unfolds her arms and leans forward. She doesn't need to ask more questions, received enough information by now.

"I don't know what your favorite color is, but it's not blue. You wouldn't choose truth over dare. Your answer about being married was a bit inconclusive. Therefore I think you are separated or divorced but haven't come to terms with your past yet. You definitely have children though."

He stares at her and she realizes that she not only overstepped the invisible line regarding his private life; he is obviously under the impression that she erased it. There is pure anger in his eyes. He doesn't have to say anything; she feels threatened, anyway.

"How do you do it?" It's a question, but it sounds more like a growl. He forces the words out through his clenched teeth. It's also an admission that she read him right. Each question she asked, he answered with a lie and she caught him each time.

"I'm a voice expert," she explains. "I am able to detect even the slightest changes in a person's intonation. Among other things, it tells me whether someone is lying or telling the truth. Of course, I only know that someone is lying not why."

He doesn't take the bait. Whether he lied just for fun, on principle, or simply because he didn't want her to know anything about him – she'll probably never know. Either way, her explanation seems to have mitigated his anger, perhaps even intrigued him a little. That's interesting. Ordinary people tend to assail her with questions about how she does it. His quiet but interested reaction is one she is used to from other scientists, matching the information with their own scientific expertise first before they quiz her about more details.

"I could ask you the same," she probes him. "How you do it. Reading people, noticing things in a split second."

It's a peace offer. He admitted that she read him right; so she did the same. But there is no visible reaction; he doesn't want her to know. At least not yet. She holds his gaze while he keeps staring at her. Nonetheless, the atmosphere in the room has changed. She felt like the tolerated sidekick in a testosterone game when he entered the room, like the required good-looking female in the middle of a male dominated operation. Albeit she knows nearly nothing about him, he doesn't seem to be the kind of man who disrespects women and treats them as a nice accessory even if he, considering the way he behaved in between, for sure is used to be successful when it comes to alluring women with his aggressive, presumptuous style. So that's what he probably saw in her when he entered the room. A woman he could impress with his usual, cocky behavior because her role in all this is only to be there and give him the phone. And somehow, her performance put her in another category. One that seems to intrigue him and make him wary of her at the same time. First it was him who did all the talking, but now their roles seem to be reversed. Now, it's her.

"You don't have to answer that," Gillian says, "but my point is – we can sit here every time, competing who is better at reading the other, playing games and checking our scorecards, or we can try to get along which I would prefer."

There is a knock at the door. The guard. Time is up, but he doesn't move.

"You should dress differently next time. Some of the men in here haven't seen a woman for quite a while and you wouldn't want them thinking about you that way even more than they already will once they saw you."

Not only the atmosphere but something in his voice has changed, too. The accent and self-confidence are still there. He sounds respectful, though, as if he actually cares. That's why she doesn't feel offended by his remark but rather...protected.

"I know. Let's say that today was bad timing."

That puts a smile on his face.

"Not that I don't appreciate it. Beautiful woman. Beautiful dress," he doesn't break eye contact saying this, and just like that, they are back to flirting albeit it feels different this time, more serious.

Another knock. "Dr. Foster? I have to take Atherton back to his cell."

"Just a moment," she replies.

Cal Atherton, or whatever his name is, caught her attention the moment he walked into her office, but for the first time their encounter doesn't feel like a challenge. It doesn't feel comfortable as yet, but something tells her that comfortable is a word that doesn't exist in Cal Atherton's vocabulary. At least not on a regular day.

"Ask me again about my favorite color next time," he says, standing up. "You were wrong. It's blue. As of today."

Gillian doesn't understand what he means until his grin gets broader another time and he raises his eyebrows appreciatively. Her eyes. That's what he referred to. She blushes and shakes her head, unable to bite back a smile. He actually is disarmingly nonchalant.

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Foster. Can't wait for our next appointment." He is already walking toward the door so that she can't see his facial expression anymore. Yet, she heard it in his voice. Smug, of course.

He was her last appointment for today. The silence in her office after he left is oppressive, as if the empty space demanded his return. Gillian stays for a while, pretending that she has to do some paperwork, before she calls the guard to walk her out. In fact, she needed time to compose herself. She is aware that she should be afraid or at least on guard because of the circumstances, but instead she is breathless with excitement.

Nice to meet you, Dr. Foster. Can't wait for our next appointment.

Neither can she.

- To be continued -

You probably noticed that Gillian's last name in this story is Foster although she and Alec are only engaged (I didn't want them to be married for obvious reasons). It's because I couldn't imagine her having another name. I have no idea as yet what that means for Alec's last name. Perhaps he doesn't even need one in this story. ;) I also decided to include, or at least mention, Emily and Zoe. They probably won't be an active part of the story, at least for now, more like a background scenario for Cal.