Chapter 10: Doll Parts, Part 1

Thank you all again for wonderful reviews! I'm glad you are all still enjoying the story. Again I'm no writer but I have been having a great time putting this story together. Trying my best to keep things true to the characters but I know its not perfect.

Im nervous to post these next two charters as they are slightly darker and hopefully not too out of character. My apologies if that is not your cup of tea it will serve the story as more of the drama unfolds. I do hope you all stick with it and injoy the read.

The more fun playful chapters will be back I promise!

Thank you all again

Trigger warnings ahead for child abuse.

I am doll eyes, doll mouth, doll legs. Doll Parts by Hole

Finishing up the final telephone interview of the day, Cal removed his headphones, anxious to look at the folders tucked away at his desk.

Perry sat across from Cal and Gillian, finishing sewing the blouse he had been working on all day. "Was that the last interview of the day?"

Gillian took off her headphones speaking to Perry. "Two employees should be coming by around three o'clock for in-person interviews. We have a bit of a break in between." Turning to Cal. "You hungry? We could grab a bite while we wait?" Gillian looked warmly at Cal.

I'm actually starving, but I want to take a look at those folders in private more than I want to eat.

"Nah, not really, but there's something I need to take a look at any way. Rain check Luv?" standing from the desk, returning her smile with warmth of his own. She nodded before he made his way out of the office.

"I, for one, am starving. And I don't like how this blouse is looking," Perry chimed in, throwing the shirt flippantly across the table as he made his way to Gillians' side.

"Want something to eat?" she asked innocently, but watched Perry's eyes darken at the words. A cocky smile spreading across his face.

"Well, if your offering-"

"Not what I meant!" she added quickly, her cheeks flushing as she chuckled lightly. Looking at her hungrily in more than one way. "There's a Chinese place two blocks from here where we can get some togo food."

"I liked your first suggestion better," he teased her, making his way to the door as they both walked out together.

Finally alone and sitting at his desk, Cal opened the Manila folders. Looking at his own file first, seeing his prior transgressions and prior charges from his youth in London. Including notes and old photos of him and Terry. Notes on his mother's suicide, His work at the Pentagon. He found Gillians' patient notes on him as well.

How the hell did they pull all of this information together so quickly? How the hell did they get a copy of her notes? This is all classified. I haven't even seen these.

Digging through his file, I finding more resent items. Reading every document within the contents of the folder. The final item was a note from the surveillance team.

Doctor Lightman seems to be incredibly loyal to those he cares for. Not afraid of confrontation or physical altercations. Very protective of his daughter and Doctor Foster. He has a history of repeatedly sleeping with women he works with on cases. As well as random women. He is inclined to like them as anonymous as possible and seems scared of relationships by the duration of those relationships. Currently, he seems to be back with his ex-wife; potentially, more information to follow.

Attached photos of him and Zoe sitting close together. Taken at a local restaurant.

Jesus Christ, well, that note was harsh… more accurate than I was bloody ready for. This analysis is the fucking ghost of Christmas past and present coming to haunt me.

Hearing a knock at his door, he watched as Gillian entered. "You have lo mein in the fridge if you get hungry. Are you ready for the next round of interviews?" smiling sweetly at him with warmth that heated his heart from within.

"Any way you would be willing to do those without me, luv? I have a few more things I need to take care of."

"Sure… Is everything OK?" She looked at him, concerned.

"Yeah, darling, just something I need to look into" it's not entirely a lie. I want to look into your file. I hope to have read them both by now, but mine was jam-packed full of my fuckups… And that's a lot of fuck ups to read.

"Okay, well, you know where I will be," she assured him before walking out.

Closing his folder and reaching for Gillian's his stomach suddenly felt in knots. Is this overstepping? This is Gillian life, culminated into a manila folder. We have known each other for so long that I'm pretty damn sure I know everything about her. Then again, you didn't know she spoke French, so she is still full of surprises. But something in here gave Perry that strong of a reaction. He looked visibly upset after reading it.

Tapping his hand on top of the folder, his curiosity getting the better of him, he opened it.

Looking at the folder, his eyes roamed over the first documents. His file organized past to present, hers present to past. Seeing a photo of a man arriving at her house late at night more than likely taken Saturday night before Perry had arrived. Taking the photo out and studying the image The man appeared to be in his mid-twenties, good-looking, and very fit. Wearing a tight white t-shirt and jeans, he could see the man's large biceps struggling against the sleeve of his shirt. So this is the guy from Saturday night? His anger and jealousy got the better of him as he studied the image bitterly. Not her usual type, interesting that is.

Sitting the photo aside and continuing onto the next document. Finding a copy of her final divorce decree from Alec. Reading the document casually, he already knew the majority of its contents. They talked daily on the phone while she was in the process of divorcing him. Reading over the decree, he saw that she had requested a no-contact order.

Jesus, I knew he was calling often, but I didn't know it got to the point where she requested that. She probably didn't tell me that part, so I wouldn't threaten him to stop or worse. Bloody bastard. Sighing loudly and turning to the next document.

Finding a photo the press had taken several months ago. He was standing next to her and Walloski in the photo, taken at a crime scene. Standing in front of a burning building, they had been trying to find an arsonist. Walloski and he had just gotten into an argument seconds before the photo was taken. Her face showed anger and frustration as she stared at the building. Seeing himself in the photo, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Remembering back to the day as he was frustrated of working with Walloski angered by her not listening and going off on her own before talking with him. Looking at Gillian in the photo, she was not looking at the building or Walloski. She was looking at him. Her eyes showed sadness, but he could see something more, something deeper. Her eyes looked wet on the brink of tears, and he saw deep hurt. They had been fighting, and he had been awful to her, picking fights and being cruel. Seeing the hurt and unshed tears in her eyes, his stomach turned. Feeling sickened by his own actions, he was the reason for those unshed tears, and it broke his heart.

You're a real fucking prick; this is for the best, keeping her away. I hurt her this bad as just friends; I can't imagine what I could do to her if we were more.

Reading every document in the file from the formation of the Lightman group, her work at the Pentagon, school. Hours had passed, going on six pm now, as he kept reading, unable to stop himself. She had been exceptional in school, at the top of her class. He already knew as much, teasing her senselessly for it but always having extreme adoration for it as well.

Finding next photos from her days in ballet. His stomach turned to knots as he remembered a conversation between him and Gillian many years prior.

Flashback to six years ago:

They had just finished a case of suspected child abuse at a church. The day was hard for both of them; he knew Gillian had such a soft spot for children. He had his own difficulties with the case for other reasons, thinking of his fathers violence to him as a small child.

He entered Gillians' office that night, her hand on her head, looking down, her eyes brimming with tears.

Knocking on the back of the door to announce his entrance, she looked up at him, forcing a small smile on her face.

"Hey," she said softly.

"I thought we could both use this luv." he said, holding up a bottle of Scotch. She nodded softly before getting up and walking to her sofa as he sat across from her.

"We saved those kids; no one believed them. They couldn't see what was really going on." Handing her a glass with the amber liquid.

"You did. You saw it." She smiled warmly at him, causing his heart to skip a beat. She sipped on her glass before continuing. "You saved them. Everyone tried to hide it, but you saw right through the lies and saved those kids."

"We did, darling. And I'm no knight, just a man looking for the truth." He smiled back at her. He watched as her eyes looked down in search of a memory. "Something on your mind?"

"What do you mean?" He could see she was trying to put her guard up.

"You're thinking back on a memory." He looked intently at her face, seeing sadness and hurt. "Something happen in your past that this case stirred up?" seeing on her face that he was correct.

"Cal-"

"You know about my father and how he was with me…This case definitely brought some unwanted feelings that were buried deep." Looking down, remembering his father's violence. The case hit a little too close to home for him.

"Trauma always finds a way of revealing itself… but it doesn't define you. You conquered great darkness to become the amazing man you are now, Cal." Looking at him with deep adoration and care. Tugging on his heart, causing it to skip a beat.

She always has the right thing to say to provide comfort. She really is remarkable. But in her face when she said trauma reveals itself, I saw something. Something she identified with. The thought saddening him as he spoke up.

"Sometimes I forget just how good of a shrink you are, darling." Smiling at her proudly. "That was a very good deflection; you almost got me. You know, I don't know much of your childhood. Or your parents. You don't talk about it."

She looked down at the ground, sighing. "My father drank himself through my childhood and most of my teen years. You know that already."

"Did he ever hurt you when he drank?" She recoiled at his remark; he could see that he was partially right. She looked at him with a slight anger in her eyes.

"My father never laid a hand on me," she said flatly. Truth.

"mother?" He could not help himself from prying, wanting to know more about her past.

"No," she said, shaking her head lightly, her eyes brimming with tears. Truth, her mother didn't, but someone did.

"Who was it?" he asked, leaning in more and studying her face.

"Just because you see something doesn't mean you understand it, Cal." She was doing her best to guard her features from being further read, but he could still see the sadness and hurt. Getting up and moving to the sofa sitting next to her.

"I can't help myself, darling; you know everything about me, every trauma of my past….I care a lot about you. Can't blame me for wanting to know more." he smiled warmly at her as she returned her own. "Are you going to tell me, or do I have to always wonder? keep you away from these kinds of cases to be safe?" to protect you. The unsaid words filled the room.

"No!" she interjected. "Don't it's… I can handle these cases; nothing has impacted or affected my work. You wouldn't even have suspected anything until you came in my office, bombarding me with questions."

"True, you are getting harder for me to read lately… . We have become quite close Luv. Friendship goes both ways, You can open up to me. Talk to me."

She looked back down at the ground, sadness revealing itself in her features. "Yes… I have had abuse in my childhood." Her eyes brimmed with tears once again. He placed his hand on her cheek as she leaned in.

"I don't know how people can do… such terrible things to children," her voice cracked as she grew upset with her own words. Looking down at the ground, her eyes welled with tears.

His heart dropped as she said, "such things." What could that mean? What happened?

A single tear finally broke free from her eye as his thumb caught it. Looking at her beautiful face, he wanted to kiss her lips and hold her. He knew that was a terrible thought to have, thinking of his own wife at home. Regardless of the fights, he was always a faithful man. And she was a married and faithful woman, even if he didn't like her husband. Did not think he was worthy of her. Thinking of their prospective spouses did not dampen his desire to place his lips on hers however. Looking down at her lips as she licked her bottom lip. Trying his best to keep those inappropriate thoughts at bay, bury them deep down where they belong.

"I've been wondering that my whole life I luv." His words were soft and low, causing her to break eye contact with the floor, locking eyes with him. He could still see the sadness in her eyes, but he saw her eyes dilate with desire. He watched as her eyes shifted from his face to his left hand, looking at his wedding band, then looking at her own. She backed away from his touch, composing herself and wiping the fresh tears that threatened to spill over.

"Want to talk about it?" He tried his best not to show the disappointment in his features at the loss of her touch. He wanted to keep touching her but knew it was the safest thing for them both to stop.

Gillian backed her body into the sofa, not closing herself off to him but letting the sofa provide its own comfort around her body.

"Remember when I told you I did ballet when I was a little girl?" He nodded in remembrance, recalling teasing her when he found out.

"My instructor had very high standards; he would lash out. If we were not… perfection." letting out a shaky breath as the words left her mouth.

"How old where you?" He tried to keep his voice from cracking, from showing his true feelings after hearing her finally say it. It sickened him thinking someone hurt her as a child.

"Young… too young to have such high expectations of a perfect pirouette."

"How would he lash out?" unable to stop himself from prying and asking more questions. He needed to know more about her. Already growing close with their partnership, they where growing even closer as friends. He always felt the need and desire to protect her, listening to her deepened that desire.

"He just would knock us around, as you so quaintly refer to it." She looked away as she spoke, then back at him. He could see that it was a partial truth, not the full truth.

"You can tell me, darling, really."

"There's nothing more to tell Cal," she said, looking irritated at his unwavering quest for more information. "I told you what happened… Alec doesn't even know" the words drifted off as she looked away shame in her eyes.

"Your own bloody husband doesn't know?" The words falling out of his mouth without thought, just reaction.

"Do you tell Zoe everything? ….everything?" She countered, searching his face.

"That seems rather important to not share with your spouse, luv," he said, deflecting her question with his own. Saddened by the thought that she hasn't even told Alec about the violent instructor of her past.

"It happened, but it does not define me, nor do I want to dwell on it. Not wanting to discuss it does not mean I haven't healed from it."

"There's more that you aren't saying, isn't there? I can see it, darling." He pointed at her face. He couldn't help himself; he could tell by the looks in her expressions and by the partial truths in her words.

She paused, breathing in through her nose and exhaling softly.

"You know the idea of the line we discussed a few weeks ago? I would like us to enforce that line….i think it would be best for us both."

Recalling the memory feeling disdain again for the aforementioned line. He always hated the line, he respected her wishes but he never wanted it.

Cal looked at the photo in his hand. A rather young Gillian Copley, performing with her dance company. She looked so young and fresh-faced, her hair long in a mess of curls running down her back as she jumped into the air in a split. His heart warmed at the photo; she looked absolutely stunning. Holding the photo up to look at it closer, he noticed the worry and fear on her face.

Grabbing the news clipping next, he read about Warner Milloy, her ballet instructor, and his school. The article continued praising the school and Mr. Milloy's many accolades. The photo accompanying the article caused a wave of disgust in his stomach.

Warner Milloy pictured here along with his promising young doll, as he refers to them as Gillian Copley.

A thin man with his arm draped over a very young Gillian, possessively. She looked no older than twelve at the time. Smiling brightly, Cal could see the terror and fear hidden beneath her features. Rereading the photo description again "Young dolls," as he refers to them.

Gillian didn't drop her cup this morning from Perry's startling her or his teasing of her nights activities… She dropped it when he called her a doll. This is the man; this was her instructor.

Gulping down the amber liquid and pouring another. He went to the next document in the folder. His stomach turned as he found a police report. Several photos attached to it. Reading the report.

Gillian Copley, age 12, suspected abuse reported by a concerned teacher at school. Multiple bruises were observed on the child. The child claims they are from ballet. Mother arrived to pick up her daughter, agreeing with her that they are from dance. Wellness check to follow up.

Observing the photos attached, he looked at the young Miss Copley. Looking at her eyes, seeing darkness—the eyes of an adult, not a child. No innocence in them no warmth. Looking at the other photos of her arms and legs, covered in bruises. A wave of nausea coursing through is stomach.

Frantically reading the last document, another police report.

Gillian Copley, age 17, assault and abuse. Gillian arrived with her father, Matthew Copley, a fellow police officer with the NYCPD. Filing charges against Mr. Warner Miloy.

The document was blacked out and redacted, unable to read the rest of the report. Stapled to the back of the report a note from the detective on the case. All charges are to be dropped against Mr. Miloy. Chiefs orders….

Filled with pure anger and disgust with the law enforcement, swallowing another glass of whiskey. Feeling physically sick at what he had read.

She told me she was abused as a child but didn't go into detail. She never said it was like this. In fact, she didn't say much at all about it. Not before she put up her goddamn line, shutting me out.

An SD card was taped on the back of the folder. Inspecting the chip before putting it in his computer after pouring another glass of whiskey. Opening the folder on his computer and seeing one single video attached. Opening the video and hesitantly pressing play. A video of a very young Gillian, maybe nine years old, dancing by herself on stage. Unable to see her face clearly on the computer, he projected it on the wall in his office.

Watching as the young girl danced beautifully, years ahead of her age. Finishing her routine and bowing, Warner Milloy joined her on stage, giving her flowers before putting his arm around her, his hand resting almost at her chest in a possessive manner. Both smiled at the crowd, Gillians' not reaching her eyes.

"What's that?" Torres spoke, entering the room.

"Don't you knock?" speaking harshly, angered by the intrusion.

"I was going to tell you I'm heading out for the night…. Foster is finishing up a few things, and I didn't want to interrupt… Is this a new case?" pointing at the screen as she watched. The video replayed again as she studied it.

"What do you see?" he asked her before grabbing his glass and taking another sip.

"She's terrified of that man… She recoiled slightly when he put his arm around her…. Such blue eyes; she doesn't have the eyes of a child. Who is that? …She looks very familiar."

"That's enough, Torres; you can leave," he snapped at her. Nodding her head softly. Before turning, staying in the door frame ."He hurt her… That man hurts her." She briefly stated before walking out.

Watching the video again finishing his glass of whiskey. Anger rising in him. Angry Gillian could so easily lie and hide her past from him. No, not a lie, but a half truth. Yes, she had experienced abuse. They were closer than this; they had shared everything. She knew every sin and every transgression of his. But she couldn't tell him this? She kept this to herself for years and he had to find out from God damn Perry Lavignes vetting process.

Looking at the projector, she looked at the disgusting man who hurt her and took her innocence. Growing so fueled by his hate and anger feeling seconds away from total combustion. Slamming his glass against the wall and watching it shatter into pieces as it made contact.

"Thanks for ditching me today," Gillian said as she walked in. Teasing him before seeing the broken glass on the ground. Cal lay on his couch, an almost empty bottle of whiskey resting between his legs. Watching as she made her way to the couch, taking in the scene before her, sitting down on the far end. She tucked her legs tightly under her. Subconsciously guarding herself, blocking her body from his. Concern ravishing her features.

"What's…going on?" She looked at him speaking hesitantly.

He was angry in so many ways and now drunk— not a safe combination. His thoughts were unable to stay in the safe and cozy confines of his subconscious.

"There she is!" His tone was biting and harsh. "My perfect little Fosta"

"Cal-" she spoke hesitantly again growing more worried noticing how drunk he was by his words.

"My perfect… Lil Fosta… I knew you were good, but I had no idea just how good you really are." Biting words spewing from his mouth. Getting up from his lying down position, he kept the whiskey bottle tucked between his legs. Getting close to her face, she backed up slightly, looking more worried and concerned.

"After the Doyle fiasco, I thought, wow, how impressive you were to be able to lie so easily all those years ago. Hide n it from me for so many years. Didn't ya?" his words slurring. "But it was just that one ugly lie, that one ugly secret you held, right? And you were doing it to protect me, weren't you? and my family, like a goddamn beautiful angel?" His hand came to rest on her cheek as he stared at her. Shocked by the normally soft and assuring gesture, knowing this time it was anything but.

"The ugly truth was out; no more lies. Here I am swooning after my best friend, whose honesty is irreproachable… who lied for me." Her eyes searched his when he said "swooning," his ugly tone not matching such a heartfelt use of the word.

"cal wha-"

"Unbeknownst to me, you can fuckin' lie your arse off… and hide things from me. You put up your shitty little line when I got too close, didn't you?" moving his hand under her chin, pulling her closer. "Our relationship was founded on a lie… my bloody blind spot you are" he said, removing his hand from her face and grabbing the manila folder that was behind him.

"What is that?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"This is you…Gillian Copley," he said solemnly. She closed her eyes, glistening with unshed tears. Reaching her arm out to grab the folder from him. Pulling it quickly back and swaying from her grasp.

"Care to finally tell me the whole truth, darling?" Coming out as soft and gentle as he could in his current form, he searched her face. Her normally guarded features were falling. She was inhaling deeply: hurt, sadness, fear, shock. She didn't speak; she couldn't, unprepared for the complete onslaught he released on her tonight.

Getting up from the couch, he tucked the manila folder under his arm and grabbed the whiskey bottle with the other. He walked to his computer and pressed play, the projector lighting up the room. She watched him, confused, until the video played. Inhaling sharply and watching the screen, she watched as the younger version of herself danced on screen.

Not watching the projection, only watching her, sipping the last remnants of whiskey from the bottle. She was doing her best to guard her emotions from him, but he could see the sadness and pain as she watched. The video came to an end as the man placed his arm around the young Gillian. A single tear fell from her eyes as she closed them.

Getting up from the couch and walking to him inhaling deeply before finally speaking. "I'm not having this conversation with you while your drunk…and I'm sober." Pausing and closing her eyes, inhaling again. "We are going home."