A/N: For the general setting of the story see the A/N of the prologue. Thank you to everyone who is still sticking with me and the story. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it.

The usual disclaimer applies (see prologue).

- Gill: Part Two -

When Cal wakes up, he doesn't feel much better, but at least the searing pain has given way to a dull throbbing. The light outside is grey as if the day is about to end. That's just not possible. He did not sleep more than ten hours, or did he? Cal looks at his alarm and sits up with a jerk, wincing when his ribs remind him that they don't like that kind of sudden movement at the moment. He did! He slept more than ten hours. Time to get his butt in gear and go back to the hospital to see Gillian before visiting hours are over. Well, they probably are already. Then again, he managed to sneak into her room this morning; so it shouldn't be a problem either way.

It doesn't take him long to get dressed since he had complied with Gillian's request to take a shower before he took the painkillers and went to bed. He smiles at the thought that Gillian was right, as always. As much as he had wanted to stay with her, sleep and medication were the better choice. Moreover, Captain America made sure that Cal's and Gillian's cars are parked right in front of Cal's house as if nothing happened. Cal saw it when a cab took him home this morning after he had brought back Rader's car and cell phone. Even if Gillian had told Jack that he would only do this later today, Cal didn't want to be in the man's debt any longer than necessary. The only downside is that he has no cell phone for the time being; he will buy a new one tomorrow.

As the front door clicks shut behind him, Cal hears his landline ring inside but decides against going back in. Whatever it is; it has to wait. He needs to see Gillian first.

"Take a look at that," Ria Torres stares at the screen of her computer. They just received the videotape of the traffic camera five blocks away from the building that had blown up. There are no traffic cameras closer to the crime scene. It is a deprived area after all; the cameras that had been installed there were destroyed in the meantime and up to now no one has bothered to replace them.

"Found something?" Sharon Wallowski looks up.

"I found that I'm supposed to find nothing."

Wallowski stands up and walks over to Torres' desk.

"Here," Ria points at the screen. "See the time stamp? Just watch." As the tape continues, there is a sudden leap in time, only a few seconds, but it is there without a doubt. "And now watch this." Torres fast-forwards the tape and then stops it to show Wallowski an exact repetition of what they witnessed before. A leap in time. Only a few seconds missing.

"Someone doesn't want us to know who was on his way to the building," Wallowski mumbles.

"Right," Ria agrees.

"Who could manipulate those tapes?"

"An employee of the company who installed the camera and monitors the feed, a computer hacker," Torres enumerates before she looks at Wallowski. "Or, considering where Dr. Foster works, someone who has access to this kind of surveillance and is allowed to use and manipulate it at his convenience."

Sharon gives thought to that. "Is there more on the tape that could be useful or is that it?"

"As far as I can tell, that's it. Two manipulations."

Wallowski nods. "And there is no trace of Dr. Foster's car on the tape?"

"No," Torres confirms. "I checked. If she took only side-streets, she could have gotten there without being detected by the traffic camera. Since she conveniently doesn't remember anything, everything is open to speculation at this point though. How she got there. How long she had been there before the explosion took place. I will check the tape again for abnormalities as well as the license plates, but that will take some time. So all we have for now is the assumption based on the manipulation that there are..."

"Two suspects," Wallowski finishes the sentence. Perhaps Dr. Foster isn't as innocent as she appears to be. Ria Torres is never wrong regarding whether someone tells the truth or not and this might be the first proof that Gillian Foster is lying even if they still have nothing as long as she claims to have amnesia. "Keep looking," she approves what her partner already is doing.

Cal is excited to see Gillian again. It's only been a few hours that he spent time with her last. However, he misses her badly. He can't pinpoint what exactly has changed, but somewhere deep inside of him it feels like a new beginning. If it wasn't for his injuries, he would burst with energy. Since he changed and the bruises in his face are not as bad as the ones hidden underneath his clothes, he doesn't even worry about being seen by the hospital staff. To hell with them. And to hell with the cops, too. Cal wants the world to know that he is with Gillian.

He opens the door to her room with dash, anticipation making him smile, only to be confronted with an empty bed. Cal exits again and checks the room number. It is the right one. A cold grip of fear squeezes his heart. Countless possibilities cross his mind as to what could have happened, one worse than the other. Gillian could have had a brain hemorrhage, a lung embolism, or whatever else the doctors might have missed when they looked at her. His phone that rang when he left... It might have been about her and now he is too late. Suddenly his enthusiasm is gone; Cal has to support himself on the nightstand, his fingers grazing a piece of paper. There is an envelope on the nightstand with his name on it. It is her handwriting. Cal made fun of it when he saw Gillian write something down the first time – that her handwriting is as well-structured as her personality.

...Need time... Don't worry... Tried to call you at home... Cal reads the lines, but they don't make sense. Something caused her to release herself from hospital against medical advice. Something that happened during the hours he was at home. When his phone rang as he was about to leave, it most likely was her; he should have answered it. Bloody hell! Her lines are obviously meant to calm him down albeit their effect is the exact opposite. Cal wants answers. He doesn't like that Gillian is at home on her own, considering her condition. Let alone what her actions might mean regarding their relationship. Therefore, and although she asked him to give her some time and space, he has to make sure that she is alright before he obliges.

His hand reaches out to the phone on the nightstand when he remembers that he doesn't know her number. It was stored in his cell and he has it at home, but since her contact details are in no official phone directory, given where they work, and it wasn't necessary for him to memorize it as yet, he can't call her now. So he will stop by for a moment on his way home even if Gillian probably won't like it.

Hines shreds documents. Usually his secretary does that for him, but he is still furious and the act of destroying files feels almost cathartic. He can't believe there was a mole in his department. It happens from time to time, no matter how many precautions they take and no matter how elaborate their selection process is when they hire someone. Living conditions change and people are corruptible. At least it normally doesn't take long until a mole is uncovered. As in this case.

They don't know what kind of information the mole sold, the investigation is ongoing. When they got wind of the possibility that there could be a leak, they set a trap and the mole walked right into it. That's why Hines is here on a Sunday. As challenging as his job is, Hines tries to exclusively spend the weekend with his family. When he received the message that the mole had been found and the situation taken care of, though, he decided to come and do what is part of the standard procedure in these instances, namely making sure that no evidence is left that has the potential to damage the reputation of the agency. He was the superior of that man. Therefore he will be held responsible. Hines examines the files of the mole that are in his office. IT experts examine the files on his computer. Basically it's about sorting the wheat from the chaff, destroying as much as necessary but as little as possible regarding further investigations or current assignments. All in all, however, a task that is much more difficult to accomplish during a regular work week than on the weekend.

As Hines listens to the hum of the shredder, his thoughts stray; he remembers a phone call earlier today. Dr. Foster called to inform him that she will be on sick leave next week. She was vague as to the why, told him something about slipping and falling. He could tell that she wasn't feeling well – her voice sounded strained – but there was something strange about the way she told him and simply about her as if she wasn't herself. However, it is the first time Gillian Foster called in sick; so he won't judge and didn't ask. It's the timing that keeps nagging him. A mole is detected, and at the same time, one of his agents is hurt and calls in sick. There doesn't have to be a correlation, most likely isn't, but experience has taught Hines that coincidences are rarely what they seem to be.

Cal is prepared to be rejected when he knocks at Gillian's front door. They were so close at the hospital. Their new, better future was within their grasp, but now it feels as if they are miles apart. A dreading premonition that is confirmed when Gillian opens the door and he sees her face.

I asked you to give me time and space, and yet, you're here. That's what her face says loud and clear. Even worse, though, is the pain he detects underneath her anger. So much of it, actually, that it turns Cal's stomach. What the hell happened?

"I know you asked me to give you time and space," he exercises damage control. "I just need to make sure that you're okay."

There is the hint of a smile on her face as Gillian turns around and walks back into her living room, giving him permission to enter her apartment by this. She sits down on the couch, snuggling up in a blanket, a cup of tea on the table in front of her. It is his favorite brand, Cal notices. He made her taste it, and ever since, she has been sharing his gusto. However, the cozy scenario is misleading. Gillian has chosen to sit right in the middle of the couch so that there is not enough room for him to sit down next to her if he doesn't intend to push her aside. Cal takes the hint and sits down in one of the armchairs.

She doesn't offer him tea and he doesn't take off his coat. Cal feels like a stranger in transit. The realization hits him out of the blue. He doesn't want to feel like this when he is with her and gives voice to his thoughts.

"Don't treat me like a stranger, Gill. Don't shut me out. What happened?"

Gillian shakes her head and takes a deep, shaky breath. This is the exact opposite of giving her time and space; Cal is aware of it. He should neither be here nor ask, but he doesn't know how not to and hopes she understands, knows that she does, at least to some degree. Otherwise, she wouldn't have let him in in the first place. Then Gillian swallows and Cal observes how her facial expression changes. She puts up an invisible shield. Don't do this, luv. Cal remains silent, though, his instincts warning him that this is not a good time to ask for her accommodation.

"I know this doesn't make sense to you, Cal," Gillian begins to explain, her breathy voice and reddened eyes betraying her alleged composure. She has been crying. The idea that she has been sitting here alone by choice, not wanting him to be the one to comfort her, stings. But all the more it confuses Cal because although her face and body language indicate that she actually wants him to back off, he also sees her affection and love for him. She is right. It doesn't make sense to him. "I'm sorry, believe me," Gillian continues. "If I knew another way how to handle this, I would. As it is, I can only ask you to trust me. I'm not having second thoughts about us. I just need a couple of days to come to terms with... things."

"With what?" He can't help it, but she simply shakes her head again, her eyes shimmering as she holds his gaze due to more, uncried tears. It sets his teeth on edge.

Gillian couldn't stay any longer in the hospital after Burns had told her about her pregnancy and miscarriage. The calm atmosphere of the room suddenly felt daunting, the white walls and furnishing a sharp contrast compared to the red she saw whenever she closed her eyes. When you were brought here, you already had lost a lot of blood, she remembers Burns' words. How could she not have known that she was pregnant? How could she not have felt the loss of her child? The questions are torturing her. She blames herself and needs comfort, but comfort is the one thing Cal won't be able to give her as soon as she tells him. His guilt will overwhelm him instead. Even more so, if she told him everything, including that she might not be able to have children anymore. It's a terrible situation for both of them and she has no idea how to handle it some other way. Her fortitude has reached its limit. She has to deal with the situation herself before she can deal with Cal. It is bad enough as it is; having to witness Cal's pain on top of her own would break her.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles.

Cal senses that any further effort on his part to push her will do more harm than good. "You could stay at my house. I would give you time and space," he tries, anyway, can't help it even if they both know that he would never manage to do so.

She rejects his suggestion with a lugubrious smile. "It wouldn't work. You know that." There is so much love in Gillian's face. So how can she refuse his offer? Why does she prefer to suffer alone instead of confiding in the man she loves? It is killing him, and yet, Cal will accept her request. It's what you do when you love and trust someone, no matter how difficult it is.

"At least promise me that you will call me when you feel bad. I will be home tonight and will get a new cell phone tomorrow. I'll call to let you know the number. OK?"

"Of course," Gillian whispers. The last thing she wants is to break off contact with him. "Thank you, Cal."

When he stands up, walks over to the couch and bends down to kiss her very gently on the forehead, she grabs his arm but doesn't move otherwise. Touching each other achieves what no words could – they feel as close as they did before. Even if there are obstacles in their way, Cal has no doubt that they will overcome them together. Gillian relaxes at least a bit as the energy he felt earlier this day finds its way back into his body. It feels good. It feels right. He moves his lips close to her ear, sensing her shiver when his warm breath tickles the skin of her neck. Gillian's sensual reaction to his proximity makes what he is going to say even better.

"No need to thank me, darling. Whatever it takes. Just know that I love you."

- To be continued -

Cal's love confession wasn't planned but when I was thinking about an appropriate way to end this chapter, it felt right. A positive counterbalance to the angst. Speaking of angst, there will be some more because Cal and Gillian still haven't talked about the miscarriage, and the investigation regarding the explosion is still ongoing. After that, there will be happier times for our favorite couple with some pleasant twists. I can promise you as much.