And here we go again!

Before we move on, I just want to reiterate that they are not getting married: Cal proposed but he didn't really mean it and stepped back to just moving in together. It's like...'the thing' in The Nanny, you know?

That being said...how about a new little arc?

Don't

Those two words popped into her mind the moment she saw the government tailored suits at the reception desk.

Don't do it

The same words echoed again shortly after, louder, when a woman in a Marine Major Uniform came in, accompanied by a young man. Her familiarity with the Corps uniforms was a little rusty, but she figured the young man must have been a lower rank, possibly a captain.

Don't go

The broken record kept on playing when she saw Anna get on the phone and speak briefly, then closed her eyes and took a short breath when Cal came out of his office right after the call. He stopped on track when he saw her, smiling bitterly at her and taking his time to study her. She was standing right at the corner of the hallway, her body mostly turned toward the lobby where the group was waiting for them - for him. She had her arms folded in a clearly defensive stance, and from the little Cal could see of her hands she was gripping on her own clothing with nervous tension. He frowned, recognising the signs but not knowing what he could attribute them to, but when he motioned to step towards her Gillian released her posture and straightened her back, giving him a slow nod. The gesture didn't help Cal to figure out exactly what was going on with her, although he doubted she knew what that impromptu visit was about. Sure, neither of them was a stranger to taking on cases on a whim and informing the other only when it was too late to go back, but that would never happen with official business such as the one the newly arrived group seemed to bring.

Before he could start thinking too much about it, Gillian came close to him and nodded again, then they both made their way to the lobby where the group went from seemingly neutral to immediately alert the second they spotted them.

Don't do it

The words in her head came back with a vengeance when the group moved to the meeting room, and Gillian immediately took note of the fact that the person leading the conversation was not the civilian of the three. And why would he be, since Major Miles was one of the commanding officers at Camp Lemonnier in Djibouti and, as it quickly turned out, their real client?

Cal, don't go

Firmer, sterner, the words kept going around while Major Miles explained why she was there. She explained that one of their troops had been patrolling an area about 20 miles from the camp, in Somalia. It was one of the many routine scout operations to identify possible jihadists hiding in the remote and isolated villages, the very bread and butter of the kind of operations US forces were conducting from the Horn of Africa outpost. The routine operation had been going on as usual, until it hadn't. This is where Captain Faulkner stepped in, better placed to share the detail as the platoon commander. Still, as they were about to find out, he wasn't all that helpful. After all, if he had been he probably wouldn't have been there at all.

But he had been there, in the small village in the middle of nowhere, just not close enough to the action. Something had gone wrong, terribly wrong. The platoon was going around the few houses, fragile rough blocks made of mud and stones and covered in sand dust, looking for hiding places and signs that the villagers might be giving refuge to terrorists and fighters. It was always a delicate affair, that kind of operation; nobody likes to have their home searched and implicitly being accused of hiding criminals, and most of the time the people in those villages weren't exactly up to speed with the latest news and what was going on with the world. Which was why the military usually tried to pair those operations with more positive actions, such as bringing food, arranging for a doctor to tag along and provide medical support or lend a hand to improve the living conditions. That was the reason why Captain Faulkner had not been in the actual village when things had gone south, having been less than a mile out with some military engineers to oversee the dig of a well to bring fresh water to the isolated community.

Don't go, please

Gillian had to try and shut her own mind, because she needed it to process the incoming information and because she couldn't afford to let that recurring thought become something she could actually hope for. Not when Captain Faulkner eventually got to the point and made it clear why they were there, as he told Cal and Gillian that while speaking with the engineers he had heard yelling from the village, followed by multiple rounds fired with automatic weapons. The Captain told them that he had ran back to the village with the others, and that was when the characteristic detachment of the seasoned soldier wavered. He reported how they had arrived at the village, finding two villagers dead and the others screaming and wailing. His troops had had their weapons drawn on the civilians, some still hot and fuming after the shooting, doing some yelling of their own to tell them to stay put and don't move. Regaining his composure, although Gillian and Cal were really the only one who had noticed he had faltered for a moment, Faulkner explained that he had seen an old Kalashnikov rifle by the two dead bodies and immediately questioned his men.

Don't say it

The soldiers had told him that the man had come towards them holding the rifle, speaking too frantically and quickly for the interpreter to be able to understand. They had told him to put the gun down but he didn't seem to be willing to comply, and after a yelling match with a lot of shouting and very little listening, shots had been fired. The soldier who had shot first had been shaken, but adamant that the man had made a clear motion to fire first and hadn't managed just because the rifle had jammed. The second victim, his daughter, had been caught in the fire when she had tried to protect her father after he had been hit the first time. Faulkner had asked the interpreter to speak with the villagers and get their version, which not surprisingly was rather different. It had been very chaotic, but between tears and screams the locals had told that the man had only been meaning to turn the rifle to the soldiers, not wanting any trouble in case they'd find it in his house during the search, and that the troops had overreacted and killed him in cold blood.

Two sides of the same coin, two conflicting stories, he said/she said: exactly the kind of thing that LIGHTMAN & FOSTER could help with.

Sadly.

"As I am sure you understand, this is a very delicate situation. The US forces are under constant scrutiny in the region and these kind of incidents don't help to reassure the local government nor the international community," Major Miles pointed out, confident that the two experts in front of her had a very good understanding of what she was talking about. "We need to be able to determine what really happened, and rest assured that myself and my superiors care about the truth and not about covering up any misdeeds."

The only consolation to that clarification was that Gillian and Cal could tell that she was being honest, that the interest was in the truth and not in finding a way to get away with it. Because the clarification also served as the final setup for something Gillian had seen coming from a mile out.

Don't, please don't ask

"We want to make sure we are doing everything we can to get to the bottom of this, and your group came highly recommended." This time it was Mr Lewitt, from the DOD, stating the obvious they already knew. "I know here you have the facilities and resources to do what we need but you can appreciate this is something that needs to be dealt with on location."

Cal leaned back on the chair, moving his hands from the table where they had been until then to his own lap as he kept his eyes on the trio. Mostly, at least, because he did glance quickly at Gillian, almost waiting for her to take hold of his hand under the table, but she sat motionless next to him with a hardened face.

"You both have high levels of clearance thank to your previous work and extensive background in similar matters, but we appreciate that it would disruptive for your business if you'd both leave for a few days." Major Miles then focused on Cal, catching him giving Gillian a longer look although the officer couldn't understand that he was worried about the fact that his partner seemed to be going out of her way not to return his glances. "Dr Lightman, I understand you have on field experience and a certain familiarity with this kind of situation?"

Please don't, Cal. Don't say it, don't go-

"Yes Major, I do."

The rest of the meeting was a blur of words and details for Gillian, who barely registered what went on until the moment they all stood up and started shaking hands in a parting gesture. Only after they left the room she started to regain a bit of her focus, the fog slowly fading away, and when Cal turned around he found her staring at the file the trio had left behind. It didn't contain information about the case, most of what they needed to know had already been shared and with no videos or audio files there wasn't much else they could work on. No, the slim and seemingly harmless brown folder marked 'confidential' only contained Cal's travel arrangements for the day after and the necessary paperwork.

Cal clenched his jaw, worried and surprised by her empty stare, then slowly went back to the table and motioned to pick up the file. That was when Gillian snapped out of it, and then some. Before he could fully grasp what was going on, Gillian was on her feet, reaching for the folder and snatching it away from him, then leaving the room with a quick pace. Cal decided not to give chase and let her go, at least for now. He had seen something in her face, that steady maks that was so unnatural for her, and even though he didn't know what it was yet he was sure of two things: she might have not known either, not yet, and she would come to him when she was ready.

Those two thoughts kept him going for the remainder of the working day, even when Gillian seemed to act as if that meeting had never happened and as if they had declined to take the case. He didn't bring it up, he didn't ask her for the folder, he simply interacted with her when necessary. When it was time to go home he didn't go looking for her, but just waited for her in the lobby for as long as she made him.

Eventually, when she turned the corner with her coat on and holding her bag, Cal spotted the folder peak from it and suppressed a small sigh. But he didn't say anything, only attempted a smile and wrapped his arm around her on the way out. He was glad to see that she didn't push back or send him signals that he shouldn't get too comfortable, but after hours of stonewalling silence he would have probably welcomed even the slightest sign of reaction.

That finally came later, when they got home. Gillian had started moving in already, and even though they were still trying to figure out how to fit some of her belongings in the house they had been living together steadily. Which was great, but not that evening. Cal entered first and went to the kitchen, having kept the need for a strong drink at bay for hours. On any other evening, Cal would have asked her what she fancied for dinner, made small talk and tried to sneak in a cuddle, but that day he just watched as Gillian didn't even bother removing her coat and shoes and instead walked upstairs to their bedroom. That made things even more complicated, not only because she was still actively avoiding him but because she had retreated in a place he really needed to be.

Cal sighed and sipped his drink, then abandoned the glass and walked upstairs, like Gillian still with his coat on. He didn't like it, but it was becoming clear that he had to force the issue; because she had taken the folder from him he hadn't been able to check the travel information yet, but he knew that he was in for an early morning wake up call. The door of the bedroom wasn't closed, which he wanted to see as a good sign, and he approached carefully. Gillian was sitting on the bed, still fully dressed, the folder open on her lap and she was looking down at it as if the words on the page were screaming at her.

"Talk to me, love," Cal finally pleaded, unable to see her like that any longer. "I know you're mad at me but I wouldn't hurt to know why."

"I'm not mad at you."

It was the first thing she said to him directly in hours and, surprisingly, it wasn't entirely a lie.

"That's a start, I guess," he mumbled, paying attention not to sound sarcastic. Then he carefully stepped closer, sitting by her but not too close. "I'm gonna need that sooner of later, Gill." Cal said then, timidly pointing at the folder in her hands. "I need to know how many pairs of knickers I need to pack."

The attempted joke was an unmitigated disaster, and really Cal should have known better. Next to him, Gillian positively shook at his words and scooted a few inches away from him, but did throw the file at him with force that would have likely hurt had it been a heavier object. Cal took the folder to his face without a reaction and watched the papers scatter on bed and floor, then sighed and decided that had been going on long enough. Without saying a word, without the same caution he had had thus far, Cal moved closer and enclosed her in his arms, holding tight when she seemed to squirm and try to get away, gently fighting back against her until she stopped. He could feel her body, tense and rigid, cold even despite the many layers of clothing she had on, but he buried his face on the back of her head and kept holding her with soft intensity. Eventually, slowly, Gillian started to relax and lean into his embrace, and Cal started breathing normally again when she turned around slightly and hid in her face in his chest.

"Don't go."

To finally say that out loud, after countless times of hearing her own voice saying that, didn't have the effect she had hoped. Gillian had thought that it would do her some good, that voicing it would make her realise how stupid of a plea it was, but that wasn't the case. On the contrary, getting the request out in the open made the fact that he was going all the more real and final.

"I have to go, Gill."

"No, you don't." She returned the hug, suddenly and almost violently. "I can go, or we can find a way to do it from her."

"We tried that with Af-"

"It's different." She cut him off, not even wanting to hear the word coming out of his mouth. "That time it was urgent and we didn't have a choice, this is not the case. We can take out time, we can arrange things-"

"Gillian, you know we can't do that."

"We don't have to take the case, Cal." She was rambling now, which was so unbecoming of her that Cal didn't know what to think about it. "We don't have a contract with them, no obligation. And we don't need the money or the publicity anymore. There's no need for you to go and -"

"The girl was twelve, love." it was his turn to get her off gently, his voice just a soft whisper. "Her father was only 30 years old. And there's a 20 something soldier who could be court martialled for this."

"And you're the only one who can solve this mess? As always?" Gillian scoffed, pulling away from him but avoiding meeting his eyes. "Cal, we both know what going over there would mean."

"It doesn't have to, love. It's not the same as last time."

"How do you know? How can you be sure? Cal, " she shook her head and stood up, basically running away from him, frustrated. "It wasn't supposed to be like that either but it did. You can't downplay how you felt-"

"I'm not, Gill. But I also know things are different now because I have you."

"Don't make this about me, don't you dare."

"Ok then, it's about us." He wanted to stand up and get closer again but she was giving out so much nervous energy that he could see it would have been a bad idea. "Last time I had to keep everything bottled up for Emily, I had to come to terms with what that did to her and to you… Now I know better not to make the same mistake again."

"And what about others' mistakes?" Gillian pressed on, now pacing the room. "What about more bombs dropping, or friendly fire or…I don't know, you uncover things they actually do want to keep hidden despite all the good intentions they declared to us. What if you go out there to help and they don't really want you to?"

"Gillian-"

"What if something happens to you, Cal?" She was nearly shouting now, and barely aware of the fact that she was. Not at him but at herself, frantically shedding the coat as if she suddenly found the garment suffocating. "How do I- What would happen to Emily? What if-"

Cal was on his feet in the blink of an eye, once again seizing her in his arms and stopping all the moving and ranting at once. He had to do it, because she looked like she was about to lose control and, more than anything, because she looked like she was about to cry and he couldn't take that. Despite being far more in touch with her emotions than him, Gillian was not as prone to tears and some would have thought. In nearly ten years of knowing her, Cal could only count a handful of times in which he had really seen her cry and he had the questionable record of being the reason for those years in at least half of those unpleasant occasions. He remembered Matheson and how she had begged for his life, he would never forget how she had fought back tears when she had confessed to him that she had manipulated his sessions to protect him and his family; both times, and the others, it had broken him to know that he could affect her so much and in his book the fact that they were in a relationship didn't mean that that was how things were supposed to be.

He hadn't undersood her sudden sukling mood at first, but then he had realised she was probably just concerned about his mental wellbeing when the prospect of him setting off to another war zone had started to become a reality. He understood that, of course, she knew all about his history with that kind of matter and would also have his back. But for some reason knowing that she was more simply worried something would happen to him was not something he had been ready for. Of course she would be afraid of it, as much as he was every time the faint idea of danger cast a shadow over her, but he had not expected that level of worry to take over her so strongly.

Mostly, he couldn't understand why she hadn't just said so instead of giving him the silent treatment first and then try to hide her concern behind something else.

"I'll be careful, love," he said then, once again holding her even when she tried to pull back.

Slowly, the warmth of his body and voice did the trick and Gillian melted in his arms, hugging back tight. Then she brought her hands back to the front, sliding on his chest before gipping the lapels of his coat and tugging at it with a frustrated gesture.

"No, you won't. You never are, Cal."

"Give me a little credit, love," he chuckled softly with his mouth on her forehead. "Don't you think I have more than one reason for wanting to come back home in one piece?"

Gillian grasped for air with grinded teeth, wanting to slap him for being so crass but also to hold him and kiss for being so sweet in recognising how their relationship made him reconsider things.

"Promise me," she said then, looking up at him while still holding on his jacket for dear life. "Promise me you will be careful, that you won't take any unnecessary risk."

Cal's face didn't give anything away, no surprise for her request nor anything about his potential commitment to it. It should have been an easy answer really, and yet it wasn't. He couldn't know if he was going to be able to keep good on it once he'd been out there, and because of who they were he couldn't simply promise Gillian and pretend that she couldn't see if he really meant it.

Eventually, he pulled back from her and gently removed her hands from the collar of his coat, feeling them sweaty for the effort but also strangely cold. He kept his eyes on her, digging inside her with his silent stare, holding her hands with his and waiting until he could tell that she was linked up enough with him to be able to ascertain with no doubt that what he was about to tell her was the absolute truth.