Hello all! So, I was pleased to see you pretty much all think the same way as Cal here (means the two things I worried about went through successfully).

I know there aren't many answers yet, and fair warning probably more questions coming in this chapter, but this is an arc after all and is far from over (and I am increasingly worried about how I developed it).

CookieSprinkles: yes, the missing thing were the skid marks (had to look it up myself)

Mary, I forgot to answer part of your question: Ideally we are back to one chapter every two day, if it changes occasionally I will let you know.

Oh, and welcome to . who started following the story!

He was on his way back to the hospital when the phone hooked up to the dashboard chimed.

Cal immediately touched the screen to open the message he had just received, thinking it might be Torres with updates on the surveillance camera, or Wallowski with some more news he didn't want to know anymore, or even - a man could hope - Gillian herself to let him know she was going to be discharged and could he maybe give her a ride home?

But it couldn't be Torres: he hadn't told her why he needed the footage and she knew better that when he said 'I wanna take a look at it' it meant that nobody else should get anywhere near it. He had seen the confusion on her face, and appreciated she hadn't questioned why he had requested her presence. He should have probably told her, give a little hint: but if he had explained he needed her to keep an eye on the guy running the place, possibly catching him in some lies about retrieving Gillian's car, then he would have also had to explain to her why. Not that it mattered, not after he had seen the place of the accident: but then, in what seemed a whole lifetime ago despite only being a couple of hours, it had been a glimmer of hope for him to cling on. Part of him, a big one, had hoped to see something in either the car or the man, to maybe hear him comment that the police were acting strange on scene, that something had been removed from the car or… Cal had hoped the man would mention anything suspicious, anything that could point towards Gillian possibly being involved in something that could explain the dynamic of the accident or the wreck of her car. He had needed something like that, like he had prayed for the alcohol test to come out positive: because a drunk driving Gillian, as foreign of a concept as it was for him, was a million times better than what really seemed to be on the cards.

The phone chimed again, and his hands started to itch around the steering wheel. Where was a red light when you needed one?! It couldn't be Wallowski either, since they had parted ways with the mutual agreement that there was nothing else she could or was willing to do for him. And as for Gillian, with the way things were lining up he highly doubted he was on the list of people she had in mind.

When he eventually checked the message he cussed in between his teeth, reading Emily's all caps and excited text that her train was on time and she would be arriving around 2pm as planned. He had completely forgotten that she was coming, even if his first thought the night before when the phone had rang had been for her. Of course, even with all the justification he could find for himself with all that had happened, it wasn't his brightest moment as a father.

He bought himself time to think about how to factor that in with everything else as he drove, then parked in front of the hospital and typed his response. Great, see you there! He wasn't entirely sure if and how he was going to let Emily in on what had happened, but regardless he certainly wasn't going to tell her over a text that Gillian had been in an accident. Then he threw one quick look to the folder Wallowski had left with him, thinking that was another big reason why he didn't want to tell Emily over the phone.

When he walked back inside the hospital, Cal noticed some curious glances coming his way but couldn't understand why. Then he got a glimpse of himself in the reflective surface of a medicine cabinet and smirked, the image staring back at him that of a man who hadn't slept, eaten or drank anything in hours. Adding to the mix his thick beard and the fact that his mind had been a tumble of unpleasant thoughts, maybe it wasn't that hard to understand how he might come across like a hobo looking for a warm place to sleep one off.

Far from being bothered, Cal walked over to the desk finding a different clerk from the night before, but his question was the same: Gillian Foster. The young man behind the desk was as bored as his night shift colleague had been, but unlike her he didn't seem to be helpful: Gillian Foster wasn't on his list of patients still in the ER. Cal backed off a little puzzled, wondering if Gillian hadn't decided to call herself a taxi…after all, a similar thought had been going through his mind.

Trying to be as polite as he could, something incredibly difficult in the best of circumstances, Cal further enquired if he could maybe know when she had been discharged. He was ready to slide a 50$ note on the desk if necessary, but the man shrugged and turned around on his chair, flipping through some patients' files in a rack just behind him.

"She wasn't," he said then, and Cal wanted to strangle him when he didn't seem to care to elaborate.

"Well then, is it fair to assume she's still in this hospital?" This God forsaken place?!

"Possibly, I just don't have it here."

Cal clenched his jaw and counted to ten, wondering if the day could get any worse. Then, as if to disproof him entirely, while he shook his head trying to calm himself down his eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar face.

"Dr Lyle!" He called out, immediately trotting around the desk to catch up with the woman. "'Morning, remember me?"

"Mr Lightman, yes." She was polite but visibly tired, and Cal imagined that night shifts in the ER were no joke, small rural hospital or not. "What can I do for you?"

"Just came over to see how Dr Foster was doing and if I could take her home," he said, then pointed at the clerk behind him. "Your colleague there seems to think she has been misplaced."

The doctor frowned, for his choice of words and the information they conveyed, then she walked over to the desk to get the chart.

"She was discharged," she confirmed then, but then her face frowned in a way Cal didn't like it. "From the ER at least."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She uh…she moved to another department."

Cal should have been able to see it, to understand everything going on in the woman's face. One because he simply could, literally, and two because she was making the weirdest and clearest faces he had ever seen. She was surprised, a bit ashamed for some reason, and somehow afraid of the information in the folder. Yet, as Cal realised the last one wasn't entirely true, that she was afraid of sharing that information with him, he also figured out that the reason why he felt he was struggling to read was that he didn't want to.

"What department? Were there any complications? You said she was fine."

The sudden outrage and worry in his voice worked for her, but Cal knew he was only deluding himself.

"No, she's ok. She-"

Dr Lyle stopped and started a couple of times, staring at the man with pleading eyes in front of her. It wasn't that she wasn't supposed to say, it wasn't necessarily information falling under the doctor-patient confidentiality rule, but because of the nature of the information she questioned whether it was wise or not. Then again, the man clearly cared about Dr Foster, and wasn't he the person supposed to be contacted in case of emergency?

"She checked herself in, third floor."

Not wanting to push any further, cowardly thinking if she didn't say actual words then it was all good, the doctor gave him a small nod then walked away. Puzzled, Cal immediately started to look around for a directory of the hospital, pacing the corridor when he spotted one by the elevators.

Ground floor: emergency room, hospital chapel.

First floo: ICU and cafeteria

Second floor: oncology and peeds…God, what a combination!

Third floor: Cardiology, Orthopaedics and-

Inpatient Mental Health Care.

Cal closed his eyes and held his breath, marvelling at how utterly surprised he was by something he had somewhat seen coming. Then he collected himself and pushed the button to call the elevator, selecting number 3 on the display when he got inside, looking up at the ceiling as the door closed. Three floors weren't much, but it was all he had to decide what to do.

He was standing leaning on his car, absently keeping a watchful eye on the exit of the station ready to spot Emily. He was also forcing himself to eat the sandwich he had grabbed from the coffee cart, but that wasn't going really well. He knew he had to eat, his body had made it really clear after he had left the hospital, but every bite was a torture.

Cal was too tense, too worried and too…everything to be able to keep any of that down, and even though at every bite he felt like vomiting he kept at it. After the hospital he had gone home, figuring he needed time to adjust his appearance before picking up Emily, and after a shower, a botched attempt to take a nap and a strong cup of tea the last item left on his list for how to look like a human being again for his daughter's arrival had been food. Worst case scenario, the food could give him some much needed energy and clarity to decide on what to do next: at the very least, forcing himself to eat would make him feel sick to hopefully cleanse his system.

Somehow he finished the sandwich and stuck the wrapping in his pocket, right on cue to see Emily coming out of the station dragging her suitcase. He smirked, aside from the emergency trip after his breakup with Gillian she never travelled light despite having a room full of her own stuff waiting for her at home, then stepped towards her ready to help.

"Hi Dad!" Emily hugged him immediately and he returned the gesture, trying not to hold too tight knowing it would give him away. Then she pulled back and looked at him, laughing immediately as she started swiping his beard. "Jesus Dad, it's been months now and you still haven't learned how to keep it clean when you eat?"

"Said the one who took six months to be able to use cutlery on her own!"

"I was a baby Dad! You're an old man, what's your excuse?"

"Oi, watch that!" He admonished her, then focused on picking up her luggage to put in the back of the car before she could see on his face that he had plenty of reasons to be laxed on his beard hygiene. "Travel alright?"

"Yes, I'm starting to like the train. So much better, less hustle, more relaxing-"

"And cheaper, which I don't mind," Cal quipped and readied himself for the inevitable eye roll.

"I guess you also don't mind the fact that I get here in three hours instead of six."

"Yes, but you know you could have gone to college anywhere you wanted." Cal watched the incoming cars as he pulled into traffic, then glanced at her with a bitter smile. "That being said, I am mighty glad you didn't go that far."

Emily smiled back at him, knowing he meant all that. Then, as he started driving, she pulled out her phone and checked it for a while, sighing before putting it away again with a disappointed face and a loud sigh.

"What's that? Boys not texting you back?"

"Not that it's any of your business," Emily replied, not wanting to get on that topic with him as per usual, then she shrugged. "I was texting with Gillian yesterday, making plans for coffee tomorrow but she hasn't answered yet. Have you guys been that busy?"

That was what she asked, although Cal suspected that she meant something along the lines of 'what have you done now'. But he would have probably been off the mark really - or maybe not - because one thing that had survived his breakup was definitely her relationship with Gillian. He knew they were in touch, it wasn't a secret, and he knew their interactions were about them and not him, which bode well with everybody involved and was how it should have been.

In a different situation, Cal might have been in the right disposition to appreciate that, rejoice even. But not with Emily looking so bummed within 10 minutes of being reunited with him, not with him knowing the reason why Gillian hadn't been responding to her.

He didn't respond right away, even knowing that she was looking at him with those big eyes of hers, because he wanted to be able to do things right. Then he saw a gas station coming up and pulled up there, stopping the car and looking at her. Emily was already alarmed, understandably so: he wasn't telling her whatever serious was clearly going on, he was stopping so they could talk and he was looking right at her, not to read her but to make sure she could see him.

"Dad…"

"She's ok, Em. Gill's alright." He rushed to it seeing the panic in her face. "She was in a car accident last night."

"What?! Dad, why-"

"It was the middle of the night and you were arriving today anyway," he lied, bypassing the part where he had forgotten she was coming at all. Then he sighed, realising that in a way he'd actually rather admit to that than to the rest. "She wasn't hurt badly, nothing serious. I promise, I wouldn't lie to you about that, love."

Although maybe I should

"Well, can we go see her then? Please Dad!"

Cal bit at his bottom lip, hard enough to nearly make it bleed. Of course she was going to ask, he knew she would…but he had vainly hoped things wouldn't escalate so quickly.

"I'm afraid we can't, Em." He said then, and her face immediately broke into shock and confusion. "Not for now."

"Wh-why? You just said she's ok!"

"Yes, she has no serious injuries."

"But she's still in hospital?"

"Sort of, yeah."

Emily opened her mouth ready with the next question, but then stopped and watched him closely before folding his arms and giving him a stern look.

"I'm not playing 21 questions with you Dad, not on this." There was nothing even remotely funny or endearing in her voice. "Not about Gillian."

Cal muffled a noise behind his sealed lips but nodded, recognising she was right. He could lie to her, of course, that was always an option along with simply playing the father card and calling it a day. But he didn't want to, because in the past couple of hours that thing had gone from a minor accident to something much bigger that he didn't know how long he could bear the brunt of on his own.

"She checked herself into an inpatient mental health care department at the hospital. You know what that is, Em?" She didn't respond, not even with a nod, but the look of her face as the made the association said it all. "I went to see her, but apparently she left instructions that she didn't want any visitors." He paused, looking down at his own hands with a painful smirk. "Well, actually it's me. It seems like she doesn't want to see me."

"What? Why?" Emily's eyes bulged open and she turned ore towards him on the seat. "Dad, what did you do?"

"I swear to God Em, nothing. Nothing that I know of at least."

She stared at him, fishing for information.

"But you went anyway, right?"

"No Em, I didn't. This isn't something I want to take head on, and I couldn't even if I wanted to."

"But why, Dad? If something is wrong with her you have to help her!"

"It's not that easy, love. We're not together anymore-"

"Screw that Dad, she's your friend." Emily blurted, caring very little about her own language. "Since when do you respect people's wishes when they clearly need you not to?"

"It's been known to happen, occasionally," Cal chuckled, but even he knew that his attempt at levity was extremely badly timed. So he reached out to hold her shoulder and pull her closer. "I am gonna be honest Em, I don't like it but it is what it is. Gillian is going through something, I'm worried about her but she can't be pushed. Not on this."

Emily held his gaze, carefully listening to his words, eventually leaning to bury her face in his chest.

"I almost miss when you were lying to me all the time," she whined then.

"Me too Em," he confessed, with no intention whatsoever of being funny. "I feel like there are things I really shouldn't be sharing with you."

"No, please Dad!" She pulled back and looked at him with pleading eyes. "I can live with you hiding from me when you do something stupid but not stuff like this."

"I can't promise, Em." Don't ask me to, please don't!

"What worries you so much? About what's going on with Gillian?"

"I'm gonna have to play the secret card on this one, love."

"Dad-"

"Leave it, Em." He was stern, with his voice and his eyes making sure she understood he wasn't going to budge. "And trust me when I say it's for Gillian's sake too."

She didn't seem all too convinced but it was fair enough, Cal wasn't all too sure about it himself, but she could see that she probably wasn't going to get much else out of him.

But she was always his father's daughter…

"This inpatient care thing is what, like a clinic?"

"Something like that, yeah."

Emily nodded to herself, pulling back and looking down as if looking for the next thing to ask.

"Do you know why she did that? Why Gillian checked herself into this place?"

Cal was impressed by how she had so easily found the way to the right question. Now, could he answer that without betraying his vow to protect and respect Gillian's choice?

"That I don't know," he said, truthfully, glad she hadn't asked if he had a theory about it.

'Cause that would have been a very different story and a very big lie.

I know you'll have qeustions, I know I am not giving many answers but hei, most of you have read enough of my stories by now to know how I like to do things