You know what was shocking, in a very good way? Many of you said you are happy I was back but I you have no idea how happy it makes me to see all these familiar names popping up!

Tori: Hello there! I pretty much watch one episode a week, even randomly, so these two are always on my mind.

Guest: no big deal at all! I always felt that episode was revealing for Gillian's character, one more reason why I was pissed they ended the show there.

Now, you all picked up some kind of vibes from the first chapter…let's see one this one does for ya.

The phone rang and she had to scramble to put the box down in order to get the call in time, looking around for a portion of unoccupied surface while simultaneously eyeing the ringing device and trying to see who was calling. Eventually she left the box on the kitchen table and ran back into the living room, grabbing the phone and picking up the call without even looking at the caller.

"Hello?"

"Foster?"

Gillian batted her eyelids, confused for a second. It was weird enough for the caller to say her name as if they weren't sure she would be the one answering her own phone, and it became a whole other level of confusion when she realised the person on the other end was that of Zoe Landau.

"Zoe?" She couldn't help answering with the same - if not more pronounced - interrogative tone.

"Sorry to bother you, do you have a minute?"

Throughout the years, Gillian had kept her interactions with Zoe to a minimum for a variety of reasons. After Cal's divorce, being his best friend she had taken his side and tried to help him out of the messy aftermath, and once things had settled she had never really gotten over the feeling that the former Mrs Lightman didn't like her very much. Far from being petty and childish, after a while Gillian still had found herself somewhat reciprocating the feeling when Zoe's actions would affect Cal. Of course she had been mad that Cal had jeopardised the financial safety of the company to buy her out, but then again part of her understood why Cal chose to resort to desperate measures at the prospect of seeing his beloved daughter being taken away. They could be civil, they had been when there was a case on the line or anything bigger than their unspoken quarrel, but a cold call when none of that was on the cards was peculiar to say the least.

"Yes, of course." Gillian mumbled on the phone and sat at the kitchen table. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was wondering if you've heard from Cal recently."

Gillian rolled her eyes and shook her head at the question, thinking that it was somehow all too typical: Zoe failing to get through to Cal - in any way, shape of form - and taking the sideway of coming to her instead.

"Not really," she answered then. "I last saw him on Thursday. He said he'd be available in case something came up but it was rather quiet on Friday so we decided not to bother him."

"What do you mean, bother him?"

There was suddenly a strange note in Zoe's voice, which only then Gillian realised was just a step above a whisper, and she found herself holding the phone closer and wanting to pay more attention to the unusual call.

"Well," Foster volunteered then, trying to keep her voice calm and casual as if she feared a tone shift might alarm her interlocutor. "I figured he'd be busy over the weekend and that despite what he said he really didn't want to be disturbed."

"I get that, but busy with what?"

Something clicked in Gillian's mind at that question, random pieces of puzzle starting to move closer together on some imaginary board. Not that she had noticed anything strange in Cal's behaviour, she was well aware of the fact that there was enough of that coming from herself to be able to notice the same thing in someone else, but the information she had was starting to form a fragmented and confusing picture. Cal taking a long weekend to be with his daughter was not strange in any shape or form, but Zoe calling to say that he was off the radar did sound unusual; and then there was the whispering, which seemed even more pronounced now that Gillian paid more attention to it, almost as if Zoe didn't want someone to eavesdrop the conversation.

"He said he was going to California to visit Stanford with Emily." The silence coming from the other end was a dreadful confirmation of the thoughts going through Gillian's head. "Zoe?"

"I'm with Emily," she responded, again her voice low. "And yes we are in Stanford, but Cal is not here. He was never supposed to come."

"Zoe, I-"

"Emily last spoke with him on Friday morning before we left. She tried to call a couple of times during the day but he never picked up so we thought he was busy with work. But he never called back, and he always does when it's Emily." Gillian knew that was an understatement, that Cal was very much capable of instantly dropping almost anything if his daughter's name came up on the screen of his phone, especially if she was out of town. "I told her he was probably busy, some kind of assignment where he couldn't get to his phone. But then yesterday and today it keeps going to voicemail, Emily is getting restless and frankly I am too… Gillian, what has he gotten himself into this time?"

"If that's the case Zoe I really don't know anything about it. Honestly, he told me he was going to be with Emily this weekend and I didn't think much of it."

"Then it must be something really crazy if he hasn't told you either. Good God Cal!" Zoe groaned frustrated, while Gillian thought that at least part of her point of view was off the mark. "I don't know what to tell Emily anymore, she's been somewhat distracted by the college visit so far but we're coming home tomorrow and she's getting worried."

"Is she there now?"

"She's in the shower," Zoe said, explaining the whispering. "She said she wanted to call you and I managed to talk her out of it, but I was just waiting to have the chance to do it myself."

"I'm really sorry I can't help Zoe, I had no idea he lied to me about this weekend."

"So you haven't spoken to him all weekend?"

Zoe's voice sounded rather surprised by the prospect of the two chummy business partners going 48 hours and counting without contact, and Gillian bit at her bottom lip catching that. Good thing she had a good excuse, possibly the best.

"I never really question him when it comes to Emily, I know better than to do that," she sighed. "I know he's having a really hard time with Emily going to college and looking to move so far away from D.C… Come to think of it, he might have played on this and assumed I wouldn't bother him if I thought he was with her."

"That does sound like him," Zoe muttered on the phone, then Gillian heard her take a deep breath. "Would you mind trying to give him a call? Just- I don't know, worth a shot."

Maybe, maybe not, Gillian thought, biting her bottom lip. But she nodded to herself instead and stood up as she went on talking.

"Of course, I will try to call him." She paused for a moment, looking around the living room before adding. "I can check the office as well, and check at his house too if I can't get hold of him."

"Thank you, Gillian," Zoe said, probably the most heartfelt words she had ever said to her.

"I'll call you back later, ok?" The woman on the other end hummed in agreement. "What are you going to tell Emily?"

The fact that she had no right to ask what a mother would tell her daughter about a seemingly missing father didn't even cross her mind, and under the circumstances Gillian didn't think Zoe would mind either.

"I'll keep buying some time for now, but if you can't reach him… I'm not as good as lying to her as Cal is, not even for her own good."

"I'll get to it now," Gillian volunteered, feeling the weight of the woman's conundrum. "One way or the other we should know what to make of this as soon as possible."

"I-" Zoe huffed on the phone, her voice trembling a little. "Thank you Gillian, I appreciate it."

"Don't mention it. We'll speak later, ok?"

"Ok, thank you again."

The moment Zoe hung up, Gillian's fingers moved quickly on the phone to bring up Cal's cell number and initiate the call, which after a few empty rings died in the cul-de-sac that was his voicemail. She wasn't surprised, even less when she tried the house's number and got the answering machine, nor when she made a last attempt with his direct number at the office and it rang endlessly with no response. The lack of answer per se didn't worry Gillian, she had expected as much after Zoe's call after all: if the man wasn't answering his own daughter and his ex-wife, why would he bother with her? It was an oddly familiar situation, yet also a frightening new one. Cal was no stranger to go off on his own little adventures without telling her, or to lie to her about what he was up to, and in that scenario it usually made sense that he would ignore her attempts to get in touch. But going silent with his family, especially with Emily, was far from normal: the only times he had done that Gillian could recall were occasions in which she was somewhat in on the silent treatment or the inevitable cover up, keeping things from Emily on Cal's request.

Still, after a second attempt on all numbers, plus a second cell contact she had hoped she had never had to try, Gillian dropped what she had been doing on that Sunday morning and got ready to go out. The first stop was the office, with the thought that if Cal was indeed up to some secret case or project of his own he was probably going to be there, where he had access to the equipment and, being Sunday, nobody would have seen him. It was a possibility, a very strong one in Gillian's mind, however it wouldn't have explained the radio silence going on since Friday afternoon.

The office was empty, filled only with a comprehensible silence that in the present situation sounded somewhat eerie. Gillian knew the moment she stepped in that she wasn't going to find Cal there, but still made sure to check all the rooms and labs and, while she was there, she also went through the surveillance videos of the past two days to see if perhaps Cal was on it. Again, he was nowhere to be found and after that Gilian knew there was only one place left.

She tried his numbers again on the way to his house, to no avail, and when she got there she wasn't surprised to find it dark and quiet, no car parked out front or nearby. Gillian stopped her car and took her copy of the keys from her purse, briefly checking on her phone in case Zoe or Emily had called. Then she got out of the car and walked up to the door, thinking for a moment that entering Cal's place had not been anywhere near her list of things to do that weekend.

She knocked first, calling out his name. It was likely useless, however part of her was still considering the possibility that Cal was simply passed out drunk inside. Sure, there still would have been the small matter of what might have caused such a reaction, but at least it would have been an explanation for his silence. There was no answer, which was becoming a sadly predictable outcome, so Gillian used her keys and entered the house. Inside it was as dark as it looked from the outside, and she was welcomed by the very same deep silence she had found at the office.

Feeling only mildly intrusive having been a cherished guest in the house for years, Gillan put down her bag and carefully started to move about the house, checking every room. She didn't find Cal in any of them, and no real clue as to where he might have gone. The kitchen and living room were tidy and clean, something that she had always found surprising about Cal. The bathroom on the ground floor was a bit more of a mess but she wasn't surprised, as a woman she could tell most of that belonged to Emily and Cal knew better than to mess with his daughter's stuff. Then she went upstairs, quickly checking the guest room and Emily's before standing in front of Cal's bedroom door. Needless to say, she had never been in there and it did feel a bit weird to go in, especially on her own, but then she thought about Zoe's worried voice and Emily quite probably freak-out and figured she should get over herself.

Gillian resisted the silly temptation to knock, then slowly opened the door. In the nearly 10 years she had known him, Gillian had always thought that Cal had a very distinctive scent of his own: it was on him, on his clothes, and it was in the places he inhabited the most like his car, the office and his house. However, that one room seemed to be entirely soaked in his characteristic smell and the combination of his cologne, shaving cream and whatever else assaulted her nostrils in an instant. Gillian couldn't resist taking a deep breath in, feeling dizzy for a moment, then shook herself out of it and went back to her task.

She flipped on the switch realising, as the light casted around the room, that unlike the rest of the house she didn't have enough knowledge of what the place would normally look like to be able to tell if something was missing or out of place. The bed was made, rather neatly and once again surprising, and there was one of Cal's trademark combinations of all black pants, shirt and jacket tossed on a chair by the window. She looked at the nightstand on either side of the bed, spotting the bedside lamps, a book and an empty glass of water. There was no phone, wallet or watch, therefore she guessed that wherever he was he had those with him. It wasn't much of a revelation but at least a start, at least there was a possibility that he had the phone with him even if he wasn't answering. Gillian stepped further inside and went to the chunky set of drawers opposite the bed, hesitating for a moment to consider the blatant invasion of privacy she was about to commit before opening the first one. She was a grown woman and some male underwear was not going to shock her, and besides briefs and socks she found nothing of note. It was pretty much the same with the other two drawers, where the only surprising find was the fact that Cal did indeed own clothes that were not all black or dark.

Then she went over to the closet and opened it, smirking at the array of black attires hanging inside. She had always suspected, and sometimes joked with him, that he bought them in bulk and that seemed to be the confirmation: but in that case, Cal's propensity for wearing the same thing turned out to be somewhat useful. Two hangers were empty, as if he had taken out one combo to take with him along with the one he had been likely wearing. A change of clothes, so to speak: perhaps for an overnight stay? New scenarios started to come to Gillian's mind, which had nothing to do with secret work projects and would have probably irritated Zoe and Emily but at least soothed their worries. Perhaps Cal was on a little intimate escape with someone new, or old, and had just taken advantage of his ladies being out of town.

Except that didn't sit too well with Gillian. Yes, she had been in her own mind recently but Cal was blatantly obvious when it came to women and she didn't think she'd miss him being so involved with one to plan a romantic weekend. Somehow, she didn't think he'd let her miss it. She wasn't even sure he'd had the time to meet anyone recently: as out of sync as she had been, Gillian was well aware of the fact that he had worked double shifts while she was off recovering from Claire's death, and she also knew that the way Walloswky had handled such a private case had finally pushed Cal to end whatever kind of weird arrangement they had been going on.

With more questions than before despite the small clue, Gillian sat on the bed and sighed, looking around the room. That was when she noticed another door next to the closet, probably an ensuite bathroom, so she stood up and checked. It was indeed a small bathroom, no shower but just a toilet, sink with mirror and a small shelf with your run of the mill amenities. Except that the shelf was nearly bare of the basic necessities one would need for an overnight stay, and the toothbrush and toothpaste also seemed to be missing. That settled in her mind that Cal had been gone somewhere for at least one night, and that made her remember him talking about his favourite overnight bag. Well, it was usually her who brought it up every time she saw the battered and overly used leather bag, nearly begging him to buy something new or at least let her give him a new one for Christmas or one of those birthdays he would always try to ignore. She remembered Cal going on about how much he liked it, because it was the perfect size for cabin luggage whilst being so spacious and that he could easily keep it under the bed for quick recovery when needed. Gillian went back to the room and kneeled down to check, seeing nothing but some spare fluffs of dust to confirm Cal was on some kind of trip and-

There was something else under the bed, something that she didn't see at first because of the lack of illumination. But as she was pulling back to her feet some light shone under the bed and she noticed something, something flat just laying on top of the floor. She snuck her hand under the bed blindly trying to recover the object, which felt like paper at the touch. Once she retrieved it, Gillian saw that she had been right about the material and what she ended up holding was a big thin envelope, A3 size, which seemed to be empty. She turned it around in her hands just to make sure, and that was when she noticed some writing on the top corner. It was printed, a few words and a small logo.

D.C Central Hospital - Radiology

Gillian's breath skipped when she read the words, wondering - still trying not to panic - what that meant. Then she stood up again and went back into the bathroom, pushed by a sudden epiphany she both wanted to be true and false: because if she was right she now had a good guess as to where Cal might have been, but if she was right she was hardly going to like to find out why. Back in the bathroom, Gillian scouted the small room again and opened the medicine cabinet she had previously ignored, but found nothing there aside from some aspirins and cough syrup, then she kept following her instinct and looked around for the trash can. There was a small one by the toilet, and thankfully - so to speak - she didn't have to dig too much inside it to find what she was looking for.

Just there, at the bottom of the rather empty bin, there was a small orange bottle. She picked it up and turned it around, immediately noting that it was empty, then her eyes landed on the label and she let out a disheartened gasp.

Interferon, prescribed to Cal Lightman by Dr T. Schulz