I know, I am not making it easy on you guys. I did warn you at the beginning...

Guest: Cal might not be 100% sure but he has an idea, and really all he needs to know is that it was most certainly because of him. Not something easy to deal with.

You may have noticed I have been pretty tight lipped on this one, and it will still be the case. But I can tell you this: after this one, two chapters left.

Over the years, Cal had carefully cultivated his Scrooge persona. When Christmas came around, he made sure to point out what a colossal waste of money it was, a commercial trap really, and to remind everybody how at that time of the year people's inclination to lie about their emotions, whether they were about enduring annoying relatives or pretend to like a lame gift, usually was out of control. Unbeknownst to most, he actually loved Christmas. There wasn't much of his childhood he would save, but he kept fond memories of Christmas days spent with his mother playing silly games only a child could love, and growing up he had come to cherish the holiday not so much for himself but mostly because people he cared about deeply loved everything about it.

Zoe had been one of those people, having grown up in a house where the holiday season started the day after Halloween and lasted until about mid January; understandably, this had passed on to their daughter, who had bought into the Christmas spirit since she had been old enough to grasp the concept of it. He remembered fondly the late Christmas' Eve nights, once Emily had been put to bed, scrambling to wrap her gifts in a presentable way and munching over stale cookies to make it look like good old Nick had stopped by.

And then there was Gillian, the grown up looking at anything Christmas related with the eyes of a five year old, whether it was decorations, gift ideas or food. Her passion for the holiday had been the reason why, especially after her divorce, he had gone to great lengths to make sure it wasn't overlooked at work. On the face of it, Foster was the one to thank for the lavish Christmas gatherings at the office and he had always played the role of the push-back, knowing it was going to happen regardless. Of course, over the years it had become a tag-team affair with Emily being heavily involved in the organisation, so when the time had come that year Cal had put her in charge of all things Christmas party, and with a budget on steroids when compared to the previous year.

The extra money came from his own savings pot, but he hadn't thought a second about poaching from it. Between his tumour and Gillian's move, everybody could use a serious pick me up and Cal wasn't going to get in the way of that. And he hadn't just chunked money at it; he had pitched in, not so much with ideas of his own but showing true interest in Emily's plans, giving his two cents on style and colours of decorations and even giving his opinion on the selection for the refreshments.

The expenses, the long debates between bows or garlands and the tasting sessions: it became all more than worth the effort and time when he watched Emily on the night of the party, playing host and soaking in the marvel that she had created. And it wasn't just about the personal achievement: as he watched the employees arrive, taking off coats and revealing the festive attires underneath, Cal knew his daughter's hard work was not going to be unappreciated.

Half an hour in and the atmosphere was already great, the lobby buzzing with conversations almost louder than the music, clinking glasses and, to Cal's surprise and delight, even laughter.

And it all came to a near standstill when Gillian walked through the door.

She was wrapped up in a black coat, her neck warmly protected by a bright red scarf matched by the woolly beanie on her head. She was carrying bags on each hand, big bags full of wrapped up items that clearly weren't meant to make the return trip to New York with her, but that wasn't why she was welcomed with cheers of surprise and, more than anything, utter joy.

Cal watched from a distance, mostly because the second he had laid eyes on her he hadn't been able to move or breathe. She came in and the room stopped, the conversations silenced and suddenly even the music seemed to become more distant: then, in the blink of an eye, everything and everybody started to move again and everybody flocked towards her lining up for long overdue greetings and hugs.

Everybody except for Emily.

Cal had just about regained control of his own respiratory system when he became aware of his daughter stepping close to him, and his fingers clenched so hard around the glass he was holding that he seriously thought he might just break it.

"What did you do?" He asked in a low voice, unable to hide the strong negative emotions behind his words. "Emily, what did you do?"

He didn't even care about trying to play the grown up role, to act as if he wasn't completely and utterly terrified by the sudden arrival of his former friend and business partner. His pulse was racing, his mouth was dry and his head was spinning and he was one gulp away from throwing up: yes, Emily had some explaining to do.

"I don't know what happened, and I understand that you wouldn't tell me anyway," Emily's response was the complete opposite, calm and measured and very much in control of her own emotions and thoughts. "But you two need to talk."

Then, as if she had just told him he had something on his face, Emily gave her father a pat on his back and left him standing there, making her way towards Gillian who was still surrounded by people eager to catch up with her. Still not fully in control of his own body and brain, Cal barely budged as he watched Emily coming up to Gillian, the two women staring at each other for a couple of seconds exchanging silent looks of longing, unspoken words and a lot of other things that, as a man, he would never be able to understand no matter how much of an expert in microexpressions and body language he was. He watched still, from a safe distance, as Emily took a step forward with her arms stretched, proposing a hug which Gillian easily returned. It was then that their eyes met, with Gillian looking up half-way through the embrace and finding him across the crowded lobby.

By the grace of God, Cal managed not to lose his grip around the glass and let it shatter on the floor, but all his good and festive disposition was gone in the blink of an eye. When Gillian and Emily pulled apart from the hug, Cal realised he had to get out of there and fast before he could spiral into the mother of all mental breakdown, so he scrambled to find a place where to put down the glass - fighting the temptation to grab a whole bottle from the booze table - and swiftly made his retreat taking advantage of the fact that, understandably given Foster's arrival, nobody was paying attention to him.

Pacing quickly, Cal made his way towards his office but before going in he changed his mind and instead headed for the balcony, caring very little about the fact that it was December and he was probably going to freeze out there without a couple of extra layers. No matter what, hypothermia was far more appealing than what was inside. So he took his time, shrugging the cold away every now and then as he stared and the city lights and the whiffs of breath coming out of his nose creating faint clouds as they came in contact with the icy air.

He had not seen that coming, not even a little bit. Not for a second he had thought Emily could do something like that… How had she managed to keep that big of a secret from him? Cal had to wonder, not without a shiver, if he shouldn't be booking a checkup with Dr Schultz because it truly was inconceivable for him that his daughter had been able to orchestrate something like that under his nose with him being so clueless. Not that he would have been any prepared to see her again after months, even if he'd had the faintest idea she would show up. From the day he had known she was going to leave, Cal had started training himself to the fact that he was never going to see her again, not in the flesh at least; and yet there she was, back in their office, looking glorious as ever and chatting away with people as if she had never left.

For a few minutes, Cal seriously considered sneaking out of there and making a run for it, but eventually decided against it. He cared very little about the fact that such retreat would have made him look like a spineless coward, but he was concerned about abandoning the one thing Emily had been looking forward to the most in weeks. Maybe, he thought as he slowly started to make his way back inside, Gillian being there didn't necessarily mean that she wanted to interact with him. Why would she? After all she had been the one leaving so it wasn't too far-fetched to think that she might have wanted to stay clear of him as much as he wanted to do the same. Or maybe he could get away with it with something simple, a very brief interaction to simply acknowledge her presence and act civil enough for the occasion. After all, Cal doubted that anybody there - safe maybe for Emily - expected them to hug it out and forget all about it.

Once back inside, with the warmth of the office helping his brain to recover, Cal thought that after a very stiff drink he could probably find it in him to keep it together if she decided to approach him, but there was no way in hell he was going to make the first move, no matter how petty or weak it would make him look-

The scent hit him when he turned the first corner, a delicate yet robust perfume he could never ever forget. The hallways and labs at the office had been filled with her scent for years, and after her departure it had slowly faded day after day until it was all gone, but it took Cal one single intake of breath to recognise it. She must have been close, way closer than the lobby where the party was still going judging by the music and voices he could hear, and Cal felt a sudden shiver of panic run through his body.

He tried to convince himself that he wasn't following the odorous trail but simply making his way back to the party, which would have been true except for when he stopped dead on track as he walked past the door of Gillian's office. Not because the scented trail was stronger there, which it was, but because a light inside of the room was on. Cal sighed as he took note of it, then put his hands in his pockets and changed direction, slowly walking towards the room, as expected finding Gillian there. She was standing behind what used to be her desk, which had been stripped of whatever she had left after removing the few personal items she had taken with her. The coat, scarf and hat she had been wearing at her arrival were gone, and Cal immediately took in the golden and black dress she revealed to have had underneath and her overall look but tried the best he could not to linger too much on it.

Gillian didn't seem to notice him standing on the door, too busy following the flow of her own thoughts as her eyes and fingers absently brushed objects and surfaces in the poorly light room. Cal watched, realising reading her seemed to be even harder than before, unable not to wonder what was going through her mind. Then before he knew it, he heard himself speak.

"We didn't touch anything."

It was supposed to be mere information, but his voice was so unsteady that it sounded more like a justification, as if he felt like had to explain himself. At least that was what Gillian thought when she turned towards him, taking a good look for the first time since she had arrived. He was wearing his usual dark suit combination, safe for a rather shiny festive red shirt that clearly had been Emily's idea. The detail, along with the fact that she hadn't seen him in months, immediately threw her off and made his sudden statement even harder to understand.

"I-"

"I mean, people come in here every now and then for books and files but other than that…nothing." Cal went on, feeling that the last word had so much more than just that one meaning.

Especially when he was itching to add 'It's still your office, if you want it'.

"It's ok, I-" She clasped her hands together, hoping in the deem light he wouldn't see just how frazzled she was by his presence. "I'm glad people are getting something out of it."

Cal nodded slowly, not because he agreed but mostly because he had no idea what else to say or do. As far as openings went, his one had been atrocious and after that he had nothing else to offer if not a long series of questions he couldn't ask.

"It's a wonderful party," Gillian tried then, sounding every bit as nervous and uncertain as he had.

"Em went all out with it this year," he huffed, shuffling on his feet. "Couldn't stop her even if I wanted to."

Gillian couldn't hold back the smile imagining the father\daughter interaction on the organisation of the party, but aside from that mirrored Cal's contrite demeanour: she might have had an advantage over him, she knew she was coming, but she hadn't gone much past that and had not prepared for that. In all honesty, when she had spotted him leaving the scene on her arrival she had pretty much counted on the fact that he was going to avoid her as much as he could.

Of course, one could have argued that wandering off on her own to her office, a place she was very likely to visit, might have not fit all that well with the whole avoidance strategy.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't."

It was supposed to be a lateral compliment, another acknowledgement that the party was a success and a recognition that he had done the right thing by giving Emily free reins, nothing more. But as she spoke Gillian became suddenly aware of the implication she was making, whether she wanted or not: it was clear that her invitation had been Emily's doing, and could her words somehow be suggesting that by giving his daughter the green light on everything party related he might have guessed that she would pull that move, and therefore enabled her presence?

Interesting theory, but judging by Cal's reaction to her arrival she could probably rule it out…unless, of course, she really wanted it to be true for some reason and-

"I didn't know what she was going to do."

When Cal urged to clarify, Gillian knew one thing for sure and found another one rather confusing: he was telling the truth, and she didn't know how to feel about it.

That wasn't the only confusing thing about it, and it surprised Gillian to realise how little she had thought it through when she didn't know how to counter. What could she possibly say? That she had imagined the invitation was Emily's doing and had still come, without checking with him? Because checking with him would have meant having to actually talk to him, and possibly being told not to come? Or that she had thought it was his doing, but that he was too proud or too cowardly to do it himself? Should she tell him that she had been hoping to have an excuse to come?

Whichever way she looked at it, there was no meaningful reply she could give him.

And with the conversation - if they could call it that - grinding to a halt, perhaps it was just time to stop circling around it.

"Why didn't you try to stop me?"

Gillian's question came out of the blue, for both of them. She looked at him as she spoke, and Cal returned the gaze not without struggle but feeling suddenly empowered, right when he was about to put a cowardly end to it and run out of the room. Because as much as he didn't know what to make of her presence there, or of the broken conversation they've had up until that point, he did have an answer for that very specific question.

Or, to better say, a question of his own.

"Would it have worked?"

This time his voice was steady, and so were his eyes penetrating through her even in the half-darkness and from a couple of feet away. Gillian was honestly surprised by the quick change; she didn't entirely know what had possessed her to face the elephant in the room, but she thought she might have had the upper hand on it being the first one to break the silly balance, and Cal's quick and somewhat aggressive reply had caught her off guard.

Which was why she didn't answer, and after a few minutes of deafening silence she walked past him and left the room to go back to the lights and noises and voices of the party.