Happy Saturday everybody!

Guest: it's inevitable to be worried, Cal is on the other side of the world in dangerous situation...Poor Gillian, she can only wait and hope.

Kathy: aw thank you, I am always my worst critic

Now, I forgot to mention that another flashback was coming up, but I guess it not that surprising considering the scenario here.

"Well done, Em."

The young girl smiled from ear to ear at the compliment, which was deeply sincere on Cal's part, even though she then walked away from him and right up to Rick, who looked way too at ease in his bloody offices after just a couple of days hanging around. He shrugged off the thought however, postponing the torture to the young man to a more suitable time, and turned around to look at Foster, looking good and festive in a dark dress with red inserts. She smiled at him, already motioning to come over and hug before the words left her mouth.

"Are you ok?"

It was more a collision than a hug, both of them going into it with desperate force, holding tight and squeezing the other letting the action speak louder than words ever could.

"I'm not sure," Cal groaned as he squeezed back.

"Good," Gillian stated assertively right in his ear. "You're not meant to be," she added, then she slowly pulled back leaving a kiss on his cheek followed by a quick caress to remove the smudged lipstick.

Cal couldn't agree more, yet he wasn't going to admit it. Not because he didn't want to give her the satisfaction, but because it was hard for him to recognise that sometimes it was ok not to be ok with the way he felt. Shaking hands with the men he had helped save had been the highlight of his little trip to Afghanistan, but it hadn't been enough to cancel out everything else. There had been too much fear, too much adrenaline…too much of that demon that took over him when the winds of war blasted all around him. The fatigue and the long bumpy return trip had tamed the bad spirits a bit as well as giving closure to the young man's family, and seeing Emily had done wonders as usual… He only hoped that bliss could last and slowly make its way to centre stage.

Alcohol and food certainly helped, and as the party carried on Cal made sure to enjoy both in significant measure. Of course being the Christmas party there was a lot about it that made him cringe, but if there was a time to be thankful for something it certainly was that and after having put Emily through the dreadful experience of watching him nearly get himself blown up, the very least he could do for her was put in the effort to enjoy the party she had organised.

Gillian watched him all night, even when she didn't know she was doing it.

She watched him hug his daughter any chance he got, making a big display of it. She watched him stubbornly ignoring poor young Rick with deadly dedication, with the exception of the few times he would throw daggers at him with his eyes.

She saw him eat and drink, mostly drink. She saw him peek around the secret Santa's gifts on the table, just like anybody else had done, and smirk disappointed when he noticed the one with his name on it was a little on the small side.

She kept an eye on him as he wandered around the room, noticing that even though he was talking to people he was never the one initiating the interaction. She watched him take another stab at Loker declaring the present for him would have hardly been any better if he'd had the time to shop properly, occasionally chuckle with others about something and pretend he was annoyed when Emily stuck a Christmas hat on his head.

Gillian watched Cal enjoying himself and hated every single minute of it.

When the party really kicked in, meaning the levels of the containers with alcoholic beverages started to get low, Gillian figured it was her cue. Moving slowly, strategically starting up small conversations, she started to trace a path towards her office. She was confident people weren't going to notice, not with how much they were enjoying themselves, and really even if they had it's not like they were going to come and look for her.

She retreated in her office and closed the door behind her, muffling away the sounds of chatter and music, then she sat at her desk in the dark room and tried to catch up on her breathing. She had been happy to see him, of course, even more than to know he was ok before he left Afghanistan to travel back. She was relieved and glad that it was over, but something had been slowly chipping away at her sense of peace. Gillian tried to tell herself that she didn't know what it was or why, but then she swirled the chair around towards her PC and switched it on. While people were having a good time a few steps away from her, Gillian scouted the internal server and pulled up the recordings from the satellite communication. Why exactly she couldn't know, but she started watching the last incoming video that had been abruptly interrupted by the bombing.

Like she had done for most of the evening, she watched him. She watched him being all focused on the Franco's interrogation, more like a verbal assault really; she watched as the men in the bunker reacted to the first explosions, surprised and scared; she watched Cal, barely distracted by the bombs falling on them, by the roof and walls of the bunker shaking and quaking around him, raining dust and debris; she watched him being eventually muscled out of his antagonistic trance by Emily's arrival, she heard the heavy shift in his voice, the desperate tone as he called for his daughter's name while trying to get the earpiece back on; she watched the bombing intensifying, listened to the erratic voices of the soldiers and watched as it all abruptly and ominously stopped.

Then she thought about Cal that evening, hours after all of that had happened just having a good time, and the rage started to grow inside her again. It was like watching two different versions of him, a twisted Jekyll and Hyde switch: from the man shaking with adrenaline and fear, calling his daughter name as if he knew it might be the last time he got to do so, to the man who was touring the party with jokes and chuckles, it really seemed like he had come out of an alternate universe of sorts.

And she was nothing but mad about it.

Hastily, Gillian switched off the screen and leaned back on the chair, her hands grabbing the nearest object just to torment it as she kept thinking about it. The more she did, she found, the less she was ok with Cal having a good time as if he hadn't nearly been blown to pieces in the desert-

"There you are!" His cheerful voice echoed from behind her. "What are you hiding in her for, Foster? Stealing my Scrooge mask for once?"

Gillian scoffed silently before turning around on the chair, looking at him. Cal was standing on the door, a cup of eggnog in each hand and a careless grin on his face: yet another thing she felt like hating.

"Why not?" She shot back. "After all you seem to be enjoying yourself."

"Oh so you're worried about keeping the balance?" He chuckled, probably a touch too tipsy to realise she wasn't in the mood. "Well, maybe this can help."

He took a couple of steps forward and stretched his right hand to pass one of the cups to her. Gillian took it, nearly ripped it out of his hand really, then stared at the small container for a moment before downing the thick liquid in one go.

"You might wanna pace yourself there, love." He chuckled. "Torres took care of it and I think she went at it a bit heavy handed."

Cal really thought the joking warning would get some reaction out of her, but the one he got was not what he had expected. Gillian stared him down then lifted her chin up, suddenly defiant, then took the second cup from him and drank half of that too.

"Ok, you got my attention," he mumbled then, sensing that something was going on with her. "What is it, Foster?"

"You know what, Cal? Forget it." Gillian scoffed, then dropped both empty cups in the trash. "There's a party out there and I've already let this ruin it more than enough for me."

Then she motioned to move away from behind the desk and leave the room, but Cal stood still in her way. He wasn't threatening but his stance wasn't soft either, and even though his face was mostly relaxed it was clear that he had no intention to let her through.

"I've been going out of my way to be decent out there and enjoy the shenanigans for Emily's sake," he stated then, looking right at her. That was how he realised that wasn't the problem, not the way he saw it at least, so he relaxed his shoulders a bit but didn't entirely let go. "Alright, what's the 'this' you're talking about then?"

"I said forget it Cal, ok?"

Once again she tried to make her way through and thought she just might when he stepped back, but then she realised by doing that he was now entirely blocking the door.

"Can't really do that now, can I?"

He sounded almost apologetic, as if he wasn't taking any joy in pushing her and was only doing so because he didn't like for them to be fighting or, even worse, avoiding issues. Gillian didn't seem in the mood to tell him, that much was clear, but he had no intention to let her dwell on it especially if it meant that she was going to keep being mad at him for something he didn't even know-

He bit at his bottom lip when he saw it, when a brief expression of fear flashed through her eyes, and took in a sharp breath that tasted like bitter regret.

"I had to go, Foster," Cal said then, sounding less confrontational. "I didn't have a choice."

Gillian suddenly deflated, abandoning the confrontational stance and taking a step back. She had honestly wished that he could let go, but it was Cal after all and letting go of things was not something he was good at. But that didn't mean that she was going to back away.

"You could have left when the time was right, when the marines were safe," she said then, taking refuge behind her desk again, absently shaking her head. "But no, you stayed behind with Franco, you wanted to know his story, didn't you? You wanted to feel the thrill of the war, you wanted to feel the adrenaline…you risked it all to get some stupid kick out of it."

"We needed an exit strategy," Cal tried to counter, somewhat impressed that she could keep her voice and demeanour so in check despite what she was saying and implying.

"You had it." She smirked at his frown, knowing she had hit a sore spot. "Yes Cal, they told me what happened after we lost the connection. You really thought I wasn't going to try and find out?" Yeah, judging by the look in face he really had. "You stayed behind even when you didn't have to."

Cal sustained her gaze, feeling the grief and fear behind her words more than seeing it on her face. He could see her point, he really did, but he wished she would also see his.

"He needed to get it out, Foster. His story, what they did to him."

"And you had to be the one to get it out, no matter what?"

"Why do you make it sound like it's a bad thing?"

"Maybe because of the bombs exploding all around you?" Gillian sounded sarcastic, and Cal knew from experience that meant trouble for him. "Or the Talibans closing in? Did it ever occur to you that it wasn't up to you?"

"I get it, Gillian, ok? It was scary, it was for me too."

The moment the words left his mouth Cal knew he should have chosen them better, and probably should have tried not to sound like it hadn't been a big deal. He should have known better, not just not to dismiss the way others might feel about it but mostly because of how he had felt in those moments, fighting back demons he thought he had left behind. He was somewhat aware of the fact that he had been over the top; that something that had nothing to do with the mission had been blinding him back there; that when they had put the assault rifle in his hands the feeling of the metal on his fingers had sent a shock through his body; that loading the gun had come so natural it had almost scared him.

"Was it, Cal?" Gillian rebuked him then, and with reason. Then turned around and switched on the screen again, showing him the frozen frame of him questioning Franco. "You might want to take a look then, because I could swear that until the bombing started you looked like you were having the time of your life."

"We didn't have the luxury to wait, you know that." Somehow, what seemed like really good arguments in his head sounded extremely weak and stretched when he said them out loud. "And what was I supposed to do?"

"How about not playing the hero, for once? Check your ego at the door and realise you are not always the only one who has to get the last move?" She shook her head again, feeling her voice raising and not liking to feel like she was losing control and then realising she still had the most important point to make. "You saw Emily watching you. Did you even think about her?"

"You know I did." He sounded more aggressive on that, understandably with Emily thrown into the mix. "And she's fine now."

Gillian laughed sarcastically, honestly amazed he could be so sure about that. Emily might have been ok with him being back and safe, pleasantly distracted by the party, but if he really thought she was fine with nearly seeing him die on live TV she'd have to question his abilities.

"What if she wasn't?" She pressed on, deciding to spare him the shame of being called out on the fact that he had failed to read his own daughter big time. "What if you hadn't come back, have you thought about that? Do you even think about others, Cal, how the things you do would affect them?"

It was a simple question, it should have been an easy answer, yet word failed him. Yes, he had, he did…sometimes…but things always worked themself out, didn't they? Cal knew that his face was easily giving away the confusion inside his head, and along with that yes, the fact that he sometimes thought he was above bad things happening to him. He looked at her then, immediately regretting having pushed the issues when he saw in her face that she wasn't done with him.

"Do you ever think about yourself?" SHe asked then.

"Of course I do."

He replied, way too quickly to have thought it through. Gillian knew it, of course, and she called him out on it with a sarcastic chuckle that she didn't even try to hide. Then she took a deep breath and shook her head, a bitter smile on her lips, eventually standing up and making her way to the door. This time he didn't try to get in the way and stop her, too taken aback by the way she had unravelled him when he thought he was going to be the one making the big discovery.

Gillian walked past him and opened the door, letting the voices and music get to them again. Then she turned around briefly and gave him a brief look, her expression a mix of smile, sadness and concern.

"You know what Cal? Sometimes I really think you don't."

Well, how do you think this is going to work out?

Also, a little announcement: I mentioned a while back that I might prepare a little something for faithful readers and I have bad news and good news about that. The bad news is that there probably won't be anything like that in the end: the good news is that the reason for it is that there will be something after this story. Now now, no need to make a big deal about it (looking at you Just!), just one last idea that made the trip from brain to paper. But don't get your hopes high!