Hellooooooooo!
Guest: complicated is good, complicated is interesting!
Kathy De: good to know, I am still so unsure about this one
Now, let's see if you find this one surprising in some ways…
Gillian's gamble paid off sooner than expected, in a way even accelerating the unfolding events.
As they learned by constant watching and listening, Villar's dedication to this business had been impacted by the worries for his son, to a point that some of his men thought he might have even lost his edge. But with Rodrigo doing better, talking and playing with his father and coming out of his shell, the boss had found his footing again. On top of everything, the idea that someone within his ranks would dare to do something as outrageous as planting cameras around the house to spy on someone he had come to admire, had shown him that it was time to remind everybody why he was in charge.
Only a few hours after Gillian had found a way to sneak the camera into his office, Villar had been on the phone arranging the meeting for the following day. She had no way of knowing of course, and more than once Cal wondered if she had ever thought about whether that information had come out before she had the chance to place the camera. That was only one of the many dreary thoughts he had had to fight back in a couple of days, most of them stemming from the fact that there was no way to communicate with Gillian, or for her to know if anything of what she was doing was getting through to the DEA.
Which was why, when the time came for DEA agents to move the bulk for their forces away from the Lightman Group lab in Washington and over to Colombia, Cal had made it very clear that he was going to tag along. Reynolds had not been surprised, and Perkins had seen enough to understand that he didn't have much of a saying despite that being "his'' operation.
That was how Cal had found himself in the back of a SWAT van, sweating profusely due to the tropical heat, his biological aversion for temperatures above 20 degrees, the heavy bullet-proof vest around his chest and the overall fear for the raid about to begin.
"Any chance I can convince you to stay put here?" Reynolds asked then, already knowing the answer to his question when the scientist grabbed one of the helmets from the pile and secured it on his head.
"You'll have to cuff me, mate." Cal responded, not a hint of playfulness in his voice. "It's a damn miracle Gillian made it this far with the way your pal Perkins ran the show. You think I'm gonna sit here and let him be in charge of rescuing her, you've got another thing coming."
Reynolds had thought as much, and in more than ways then one he couldn't fault Cal for feeling that way. He had only been brought into that as a liaison, to introduce Perkins to the group and vouch for them; officially, he was playing no part in the operation but since after Cal's arrival it had become clear that the DEA needed him to manage Lightman…as much as he could be managed, of course. Aside from feeling terribly on a personal level for the part he had played in Foster going behind her partner's back in taking the case, he couldn't help but think that the whole thing might have been handled better. Much like Cal, he didn't like the fact that they were about to storm Villar's mansion, where the meeting was about to start, with Gillian and the kid inside and zero clue that they were about to get caught in a heavy cross fire.
"I know," Cal mumbled, glancing at him before staring at the screens inside the van showing all the angles they had in the house. "I don't like it either."
Reynolds sighed and nodded knowingly, then put on the headset and gave one to him. Ideally, he wanted Cal to stay in the van and wait, but realistically he knew that wasn't going to happen. Inside the van he could have been able to watch the operation unfold and immediately see if something was not going their way, and if something like that was going to happen the agent was confident that there would have been no way to hold him back. So might as well suit him up with protective gear and keep him close, although he wasn't going to push it as far as giving him a weapon. He had no doubt that Cal could hold his own with one, but he liked to think that there was a limit to how much he could enable the man.
Then something crackled over the headset, the much awaited green light, and they nodded at each other before exiting the van. Outside there were two teams already gathered, receiving the last intel and going through the planned manoeuvre. Cal and Reynolds went with team number 2, tasked with approaching the property by the pool side and helping deliver a pinching move in case someone would have tried to make a run for it in that direction.
Before they moved, Cal powered up his phone and tested the connection with Washington, then put the bluetooth speaker in the other ear. On the other side of the line Loker and Torres had, in Cal's opinion, the most important job: to keep him updated on Gillian's position and every move. He didn't care about the drugs, he wasn't probably going to care much about bullets flying either; all he wanted was to find her and take her away from there.
"Alright," Reynolds said then. "Let's go."
Some of the SWAT team members looked at the short civilian with confusion, but none of them was paid enough to question his presence. Then they moved through the woods to circle the house, mindful of the carefully mapped security system and moving in constant contact with the team going for the frontal attack. They also had someone watching the images from inside the house, kindly provided by Gillian: the plan was to wait for the buyers to settle in Villar's office and start talking business, which would have provided the DEA with the proof they needed.
And unleash hell.
Later, Cal found out that they only waited for 15 minutes since taking position, but as he hid in the bushes feeling the heat and being torn by tension it felt like hours.
"Where is she?" He asked through the bluetooth device at some point, noticing how the soldiers around seemed to be taking position, ready to go any minute.
"In Rodrigo's room," Loker immediately responded. "They're sitting on the floor, playing on the carpet."
Good, Cal thought, hoping that would mean that Gillian would know better to stay low and find repair when the gunshots started. He had learned the blueprint of the villa by heart and knew that the boy's room was on the opposite side from the office, not too far from the pool he could almost see beyond the thick bushes. He didn't want to get positive, that really wasn't his strongest suit, but things could have been a lot worse.
"Ok, thanks Loker," he mumbled. "Keep talking to me, no matter what."
The clarification was useless and incredibly well timed. The moment Cal spoke those words the go command came from the other ear and the squad moved out of hiding, staying low and pointing their weapons. He didn't have any but did advance carefully, looking around and keeping his eyes on the house, his ears instead focused on the two different voices coming from either end. It wasn't complicated to follow both, not for him since he knew where his priorities were: his brain was hard wired to react to anything that had to do with Gillian and nothing else.
When the first shot echoed, far enough to likely be in the front of the house, all hell broke loose. The soldiers around him spread wide, now more worried about finding a target than taking cover. In his way, Cal did the same: except he wasn't going to shoot his target once he laid his eyes on her.
The first shot predictably generated more and soon a cacophony of big and small explosions ripped through the air, sounding even louder through the headset. Cal looked up and saw smoke coming from the house, spotting Villar's men shooting back from windows and doors and SWAT members storming the place.
"Loker!" He called out, his eyes wandering around desperately, not sure he wanted to see Gillian in the midst of all that or if he preferred to think she had found a relatively safe place to hide.
Then a bigger explosion echoed from the far side of the house, tongues of fire and smoke billowing through the destroyed roof, and Cal realised there probably was no such thing as a safe place.
"Loker, where is she?" He roared again, keeping a hand on his ear to try and isolate the war noises all around him. "Loker! Whe-"
He didn't even notice the bullets meowing close to him, hitting the tiled ground around the pool and sending stone shards all over the place. He didn't even hear Reynolds calling him, but he did feel the agent's body tackling him to the ground and dragging him behind a wide column of the patio.
"Damn it Lightman!" Reynolds scolded him once they took cover. "Don't get yourself killed, would you?"
It wasn't supposed to be a joke, not with bullets and explosions flying around, yet Cal had a moment of insane hilarity going through him. Because, wouldn't have that been quite something? He'd been worried about Gillian for days, resenting Reynolds and anybody who hadn't thought about dropping him a call when she had agreed to the mission, and he was there to rescue her… The thought that he could be the one not getting out of there alive had never crossed his mind, and only then he realised it would have been quite the predicament if something had happened to him instead of the other way around.
Lucid and present again, Cal mumbled a thank you to Reynolds and then peeked behind the column, looking at the house partly on fire and catching glimpses of the gunfire ripping through it. Villar and his men clearly were not going down without a fight, which had to be expected, however not to the extent he was seeing. Then he focused on the task at hand again, find Gillian, and brought his hand to the right ear to speak to Loker again, only to find the bluetooth device gone. Cal panicked, seeing the object as his only way to find her, to help her, to save her. Without that he had nothing, the headset was still on but nothing helpful was coming through that and he doubted the DEA men were bothering with looking for her as the conflict went on.
He had to do something, maybe he could ask Reynold to break the limit and give him a spare gun, anything that would help him get out of that hiding place and do his part-
"Lightman!" He didn't hear Reynolds at first, too busy spiralling in a train of thoughts that rapidly led to images of Gillian's lifeless body recovered from the steaming rubble of the house. "Lightman!"
This time Reynolds grabbed him, not to protect him but to shake him off of his haze and to point his face towards the house. Cal blinked once, twice…four times before he could accept that he wasn't imagining what his eyes were seeing, then once again forgot about the danger of being out in the open and ran.
Towards Gillian.
She had come out of the house through the pool area and she was running away from the mansion the best she could, barefooted and desperately holding a screaming Rodrigo to her chest. Cal's brain shut down immediately, not wanting to even think about a stray bullet coming her way, or that the might trip and fall or whatever else: he just ran, screaming her name and feeling his heart beat again when she looked up and saw him. She paused for a moment there, understandably surprised to see him there, half dressed like a soldier and running towards her. But she put the shock aside, self-preservation and pure instincts kicking in when the gun fire behind her intensified.
When they finally met, when Cal reached her and could touch her, knowing she was indeed alive, they didn't say a word. Cal immediately stood behind her hoping the vest and helmet he was wearing could shield her from anything coming their way, immensely grateful when Reynold joined them. The agent took the boy from her arms and covered their escape with his weapon, then adrenaline kicked in and Cal grabbed hold of Gillian to lift her from the ground and carry her as far away as possible from there.
He ran for what felt like miles, away from the house and back into the woods, too busy looking ahead to see how she had closed her eyes and sunk her face in his chest, holding onto him for dear life with her arms around his neck. Cal's mind might have been a little fuzzy but his body knew exactly what to do, taking him back to the SWAT van where a couple of agents tried to take her off of him. He didn't say a word but it was clear that he wasn't going to allow it, then gently laid her down on the grassy ground, panicking for a second when he realised that she seemed heavy and unresponsive.
Unsurprisingly, she was simply passed out, probably from the shock, but there was no sign of injury on her. The relief about that was nothing short of overwhelming, even more so than the feeling of holding her again and knowing she was safe. Then, the two soldiers guarding the position alerted to something in the bushes and raised their weapons calling for identification, which promptly came from Reynolds and the others. The agent was still holding Rodrigo, the poor boy crying his soul out in terror and fear which didn't get any better when he saw Gillian laying on the ground. The boy violently wiggled out of Reynolds arms and ran towards her, calling out the name he knew her by and trying to shake her. Not knowing where he was getting the strength for it, Cal got hold of the boy and stopped his frantic movement, gently forcing him to focus on his words, repeating over and over again what he too desperately needed to her.
She was ok, she was safe.
It was over.
Hours later, Cal came out of the locker room wearing something he'd never thought he'd wear again in his life, a green fatigues uniform. He had hoped to be able to get back into his own clothes after the shower, but the military at the base had probably missed the memo and thrown out his stuff, leaving the replacement clothing lined up on the bench for him. The fabric hitched and as much as he admired soldiers for their service it felt claustrophobic to wear something like that, representing something so foreign to his natural disposition of insubordination and recklessness.
Huffing and puffing, wondering if there might have been a way for him to get hold of civilian clothing in a military base, Cal left the locker room and immediately went back to where he had left Gillian. She had had her shower already, but unlike him she had been lucky enough to get back into her own clothes. Not the same ones she had been wearing during the raid, those were ripped and ruined for good, but some remarkably sensitive DEA agent had managed to grab a bag from her room in the villa and provide her with a change of clothes.
After some much needed washing, food and rest to decompress, there had been really only one thing in Gillian's mind: she wanted to know how Rodrigo was doing, and she had been spending all her time with him while the DEA decided what to do with him. Villar had been taken alive, but of course there was no way the boy would be able to stay with him, and the bureaucrats were scrambling to find a solution.
Cal turned the corner of the hallway leading to the infirmary of the base, not surprised to find her right where he had left her. Gillian was standing outside the room they had provided for Rodrigo, staring at him through the glass window and peering inside. Cal couldn't fathom how she could look so damn perfect and beautiful after all she'd been through, but he put the thought aside when he saw her face. She was tense, tired and, he wasn't surprised, a little worried: not for herself, but for the boy.
He waited a few more minutes, hoping to see that dark shadow leaving her feature, then slowly walked towards her. Gillian heard him coming and looked his way, giving him an amused look that, however not enough to be called a smile, made Cal feel a bit better.
"Not a fan, uh?" He smirked, hinting at her reaction to his attire. "Me neither. Guess we're gonna stick with the miner's helmet then."
Predictably, his attempt at levity seemed to be a little too much. Gillian did smile at his suggestion but it was a polite smile showing how she was so not in the right mood for that. Cal's face softened into an apology, then he stepped closer and left the next move up to her. He was a bit tense, not wanting to push his physical need to hold her if she wasn't ready for it, for whatever the reason. They hadn't had much time to talk, after he had gotten her to safety they'd had packed the van with Gillian, the child, Reynolds and Cal driving off to the safe location previously established. Once there, the four of them had moved to a military ambulance and taken to Fort Hill, the closest US outpost. Gillian had been out of it for the entire trip, Rodrigo attached to Cal like a koala to a tree, and once they had reached the base they had been separated by DEA and military personnel. Cal had not been a fan of that, but he had managed to calm down once he had been reassured that nobody was going to keep him from her and all they wanted to do was to make sure that everybody was ok.
The relief he felt when she moved, stepping in front of him and leaning with her back on his chest, was nothing short of intense. It wasn't so much the proximity, which he had missed enough while away with Emily, before he'd come home to find out Gillian had gone off on her own adventure. It was the fact that she came to him, looking for him, knowing no matter what he was there for her.
He took her in, caring very little about the fact that they were in a place where displays of affections were more than rare, gently wrapping his arms around her as Gillian leaned further back into him. She smelled like herself, and of that cheap soap he had also been given for his shower, but to him it was her natural scent the one that came through the most. He held her and they stayed in silence for a while, watching Rodrigo sleeping in a bed way too big for him on the other side of the glass.
"What's gonna happen to him?" He asked, immediately feeling how she deflated in his arms. "Please tell me they at least had the decency to ask your opinion."
"They did," Gillian sighed, feeling the frustration coming out of him, directed at 'they'. "He's going to come to the US. I made some calls, people I know. I found a place for him in San Diego."
"Did you ask-"
"No, Cal," she cut him off, gently but quickly, before his thought could insinuate in her own mind. Then she felt him tense and turned around a little to look at him, giving him a soft smile. "He doesn't need a family, not right now. He needs help, he was just about coming out his trauma and then this happened." She shook her head and leaned on his lips as he briefly kissed her forehead. "He never had the opportunity to socialise with other kids, that will help him."
Cal hummed in agreement, even though he wanted to add that she was the reason why Rodrigo had started to feel better in the first place. He wanted to object, to tell her that even so she should be the one helping him, that the connection she had created with the child in just a few days, under those crazy circumstances nonetheless, was not something to be discarded. But he knew she didn't want to hear it and he knew why, so he just held her a little tighter.
They stayed like that, in silence for a little longer, then eventually Gillian turned around and wrapped her arms around him, looking into his eyes with a shy expression.
"On a scale of one to ten, how mad at me are you?"
Cal scoffed a smile at her, gently stroking her cheek as he shook his head slowly.
"Big fat zero," he said, then smirked. "About a 100 the first hour or so when I found out but later no, love, not a bit."
"That's the truth," she observed, honestly shocked by the discovery. "Why?"
"You did it for him," Cal nodded at the room behind her. "Besides…going off on your own without sharing your plans with people, taking unnecessary risks, literally putting yourself in the line of fire… Seriously, who am I to judge?"
Gillian chuckled softly and buried her face in his chest, squeezing him tighter when he wrapped his arms around her even more.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I thought if I called you'd try to talk me out of it."
"I probably would have," Cal agreed, then cupped her face in his hands and forced her to look at the pain and fear in his face. "I understand, doesn't mean I liked it. And I don't like the fact that you felt the need to go behind my back, but as I said…I guess I'm in no position to make this statement."
Gillian leaned into his touch, her eyes closed, thinking what a long way they had come. Did he mean that he was going to stop doing crazy things and putting himself in danger? No, obviously not; but he was more and more aware of how his actions affected others. Was he ok with her doing something like she had done, keeping him in the dark? Not at all, but he understood her motivations and respected them. And in a way, as much as she felt a bit uncomfortable in admitting that, Gillian thought that maybe a few months before she wouldn't have had the daring confidence to take on something like that on her own.
"Cal," she called his name then, looking up at him, "Are we ok?"
Cal's face opened up in a smile so wide Gillian thought it must have hurt, the light in his eyes and the little wrinkles in the corner the most eloquent sign of what was going through his mind.
"You're alive, you're ok," He nodded, to himself and to her. "That's all I need, love."
Then he leaned down to kiss her, not giving a damn about any stuck up soldier or official who might come and see them. Gillian responded immediately, letting the tension of the previous days finally dawn on her and finding a healthy release in the familiar contact. It was a soft kiss, gentle, the kind they needed after what happened, and when it was over they pulled apart feeling much better.
Still, with Cal still holding her face, he started to feel that her head was getting heavier in his hands and smirked. Then he spun her around gently and took her hand, guiding her to a couple of chairs in the hallway. She sat down with no protest and leaned on him the moment he did the same, one arm around her and gently caressing her arm.
"Did you give Reynolds a hard time?" She asked after a while, and he grumbled something.
"A bit, but he came through in the end. Perkins, on the other hand-"
"Bit of a plonker, isn't he?"
Cal laughed, he absolutely loved when she ventured in his British slang.
"Please tell me you charged him the highest fee you could think of," he mumbled then, to which Gillian replied with a soft hum of confirmation.
Then Cal chuckled again and looked down, knowing even before he saw it that she had fallen asleep.
Was this what you expected?