The Lies We Tell (9/?)
Title: The Lies We Tell (9/?)
Pairing: gen, Gill, Cal
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: LtM not mine; Henri & Le Fort, mine.
Summary: When Zoe brings a new case and a new partner to the Lightman Group, long-buried truths will be revealed as they work to defend an innocent man, while a side investigation may place one partner in mortal peril.
A/N: No beta, all mistakes are mine. Please be extra kind, WORD and I didn't get along this week. Though not exciting, it's setting us up for the second half, so a necessary evil. This is for Kelsey, the most fantabulous flurker around :)
8
.::.
It was Tuesday and Gillian found herself once again up to her elbows in work, looking over interview footage with Bobby and discussing tactics for the courtroom. The trial was to begin Friday and with each day that passed, Gillian felt the twisting discomfort of tension in her stomach.
Not only that, but her sleeping had been rather poor lately. It consisted primarily of memories of her and Henri, mixed with things that were completely made up. It made for confusing mornings.
"God it's late," Bobby muttered as he peered at his computer screen. His eyes bore dark circles and fatigue was etched in every feature.
"The calm before the storm." Gillian hummed as she lifted a stack of files. She felt Bobby's scrutiny and stuck her pen between her teeth as she gave him a questioning glance.
"Sorry. I just… how do you do it?"
"Do what?"
"I've spent the last three days with you, countless hours before then, and not once did you get short with me or anyone else," he stated disbelievingly. "I don't understand this constant… cheerfulness. Is it a show, or are you just naturally kind to everyone?"
Surprised, she deliberated before extracting her pen and replying slowly. "When I was younger, I was… very driven. A lot like Lindsay in that regard. But I was also very self-absorbed and didn't take much time for others. A lot of stuff happened in my early twenties that changed my perspective a bit. So… am I naturally this cheerful? Maybe. But I have my bad days, just like everyone else. I just don't like to impose my bad mood on others."
"Understandable," he nodded as he took a sip of his stale coffee. "My dad was like that. He literally had the crappiest job - cleaning up after suits and attitudes, but he'd come home, ask me about my day and actually care."
Gillian watched him for a moment. "Your father sounds like a great man."
Bobby leaned forward on the table, palming his eyes quickly to brush aside the exhaustion. "He was… up 'til the very end. He was the best person I've ever known."
"He had a stroke, right?"
"Yeah. I stayed with him full-time, just picked up cases here and there, nothing big. Linds… she was great. She helped me out a lot through all that, even though we weren't… together. She'd come over during her lunch break or when she had a free afternoon, give me some time off. I'd go to the park with Bobby junior, or get out and run."
"When did he pass away?"
Bobby hesitated for a moment, frowned as he traced the edge of his laptop. "It'll be two years ago on the twenty-fourth."
Thanksgiving. Which was next week. Ouch. "Are you going up to Boston for the holiday?"
"I would, but Lindsay is spending the four-day weekend with her family so we can all be together for Christmas. I'll probably order some Chinese and spend it wishing this case was over."
"That's awful. No one should be alone on Thanksgiving."
Bobby laughed. "What? Are you offering?"
"I don't even know what I'm doing yet. I was actually going to work with one of my girlfriends at a local shelter, but that's earlier in the day."
"Why am I not surprised? Gillian Foster helping others on Thanksgiving," Bobby smirked as she slapped him on the upper arm. "Though, I am surprised that you aren't going to Lightman's."
"If I do, it's typically the day after. He needs to spend that time with his family."
"Funny, I thought you qualified." Bobby picked up a file and handed it over, knowing it was the one for which she'd been searching.
Gillian brushed aside his comment. "We haven't even talked about it. Everything's been so crazy lately, I don't even think he knows that the Holidays are approaching."
"Working a murder trial tends to do that to people," Bobby muttered as he grabbed a stack of files and stuffed them in his bag. "One thing that bothers me is that Le Fort refuses to turn over the real murderer."
"Maybe he's being threatened. If he turns the guy over, it might seal his fate outside of the courtroom. I just wish we knew what they were really arguing about that day."
"Yeah, you and me both."
Gillian watched Bobby and frowned. He was hiding something. She debated whether or not to push the issue or save it for later. It was ten p.m. Later.
"Are you taking off soon?" Bobby asked as he tossed his coffee cup in the trash.
"In a bit. I want to get the payroll out of the way so I can focus everything on Le Fort."
"I imagine having all your attention would be quite an honor," he smiled softly as he grabbed the door handle. "Night, Gillian. Thanks."
She listened to his footsteps as they carried down the hall. Pulling out her phone, she called Henri for the latest on the case. Sent to voicemail, Gillian reflected on Bobby's words.
Depending on the person, having all of her attention could also be a curse.
.::.
Cal arrived early to the office, bemoaning the early meeting he was to have with some self-righteous CEO. The case would pay well, and that would make Foster happy. He liked making her happy. Just as he approached his office, Heidi called after him.
"Dr. Lightman? I've got a gentleman on the line from the D.O.D. He wants to talk to Dr. Foster about her PTSD program."
"Tell him she'll call him back once she gets to the office."
"He said he just needed an update on one particular demo. Apparently he has an upcoming presentation and needs to know the status of the program."
Cal frowned. "Tell him to call back in an hour."
"Dr. Foster is out of the office all day. It's just one file, Dr. Lightman."
Cal hated talking to the bureaucrats about science that was above their IQ range. "Fine, send it through. But I'm holding you responsible when I piss him off."
"Thank you!" her sing-song voice followed him into his office as he walked to his phone and picked up the receiver.
"Cal Lightman, what can I do for you?"
"Dr. Lightman, pleasure to finally speak with you. I'm John Bradford. I find your work very interesting."
"That's great, but I thought this was about Foster's work."
"It is," Bradford replied hastily. "I was wondering if you could take a look at the Kuwait demo? She's sending it over this Friday, but my presentation got bumped up."
"Right. Let me check." Cal rose and headed to the lab, accessing the database that housed her entire project. He scanned the files, labeled by city, until he got to the 'K's. Kabul, Kandahar, Kirkuk, Kigali, Kunduz, Kuwait…
Cal read her most recent entry tagged beside the Kuwait. She still had to add audio to the last minute and a half. He had no idea what that entailed.
"Looks like it's about finished. I can get my tech guy to give you a call this afternoon to tell you what's required. Honestly, I haven't a clue what's left to accomplish though."
"That's fine. I'll try calling her cell again later. One more thing, Dr. Lightman? Could please ask Dr. Foster to reconsider our offer? It has great potential to -"
"Offer?" Cal frowned. He had an idea as to what this was about. "How long have you been waiting for her to reconsider?"
"About six months now."
"Then that's your answer. Have a nice day."
Cal hung up the phone, shaking his head in disbelief. Idiot. Like he'd ever talk Foster into leaving her job. That was like giving Em a one-way ticket to Chicago. His phone rang again. It was the Mayor.
"Heidi, take a message. I've got… an urgent meeting to attend."
Cal grabbed a magazine and headed to the men's room.
.::.
Blistery was an understatement when describing the weather that morning. Gillian had to shield her phone from the wind as she spoke into her cell. She had a relentless day ahead, packed with back-to-back meetings and only a quick stop at the office later.
"What do you mean he was released?" Gillian asked as she walked from the coffee shop back to her car.
"I mean new evidence surfaced that proved his innocence," Henri replied.
"So… this suspect - whoever he is, the one guilty of at least six counts of first degree murder, is still roaming around Belgium, possibly having killed an inspector and even more women?"
"We don't know if he's in Belgium, Miss Gillian. We only know that the man who was convicted was later found innocent and released. "
"And when was the last woman murdered?"
"2007, after Martin Thomas moved to the US. Doesn't mean he couldn't come back and do it though."
"It's a stretch," she muttered as she waited for her car to warm up. "Anything more on Thomas? Did any of his prints match the evidence?"
"No. If anything, it proved his innocence as well," Henri replied bitterly, sighing in frustration.
"Sorry," Gillian murmured, wishing she hadn't drug Henri into this. "If this whole mess is making your case load worse, don't hesitate to stop. I understand."
"Are you kidding? This is one of the most intriguing cases I've worked in years. Makes me remember why I got into this business in the first place. Besides, I get to spend all my free time talking with you, so I assure you it's not a hardship."
Gillian smiled at his words then frowned. He hadn't said as much, but she could tell that he enjoyed talking with her just as much as she did with him. It was nice, having someone removed from everyday life to vent to. He'd certainly gotten better at listening over the years.
"I've got to get going, I have a meeting with Bobby and Zoe about their client."
"Talk to you later then?" His hope was undeniable. She needed to keep her distance. Had to.
"I'm not making any promises."
"How could I forget? You hate making those."
"You know me," she replied as she rolled her eyes.
"I guess it's good to know that some things never change. Bye."
"Bye."
Twenty minutes later and Gillian found herself outside the Law Offices of Landau and Donnell. Glancing at the clock, she frowned at her earliness as she gathered her things and climbed out of her car.
Just before entering the office, she received a voicemail from her D.O.D. contact. She marveled at the timeliness of his call.
"Hey John?... It's Gillian… You spoke with Cal? Okay, sure, I can send the demo over tomorrow morning… One more thing… I was wondering if you could run a check on someone for me…"
After finishing her call, Gillian took a seat in the waiting room outside the office. Glancing at the wall, she wondered what had possessed Zoe to purchase such a ghastly piece of office art.
"Dr. Foster? I was wondering when I'd see you again." It was Le Fort. He was standing before her, dressed impeccably with his glasses perched on top of his head as he rolled up his newspaper.
"Monsieur Le Fort," she smiled… slowly at him. "How've you been? Ready for the trial?"
He grinned and took the seat opposite her in the small waiting room. There were only four chairs and a small table in the center. Still, she was grateful for that tiny table.
"Can anyone be truly ready for a group of strangers to decide his fate?"
"But you're innocent," a flicker of something at his innocence. "All you need to do is let Bobby do what he does best," she replied, trying her best to be timid. She probably came across as anxious. That could work too.
"Yes, well. Forgive me, but it's not Mr. Donnell I'm worried about."
"The jury?"
"Of course. I know it would help my cause to give over the guilty party, but," Le Fort paused and she watched something akin to doubt cross his features. "I have my reasons for remaining silent."
"Can you share any of them?"
Le Fort hesitated, but it was far too calculated for it to be sincere. He was doing this on purpose. "The actual killer… he's an important man. It would be quite dangerous on my part to even insinuate his participation."
He was good, she'd give him that much. He was playing with her. He wanted to see if she knew who the killer really was. Well, she was here for him, and him alone.
"I guess we'll just have to make sure that everyone knows it wasn't you then," she said quietly, giving him a soft smile. He held her gaze for a moment, his grey eyes cold and piercing. She tried to look away, but found it difficult to break contact. So she returned his gaze, allowing him to think he caught her before she shied away.
This must be what it felt like to be hunted.
Fortunately, Loker pushed through the entrance with his equipment, Torres in tow. Gillian hoped she wasn't blushing, but figured it was a given at this point. She hoped to God whatever she just risked had been worth it.
"Ready?" Loker asked as he gave her a questioning glance. Gillian ignored Torres, not wanting her scrutiny.
"Yes, we can set up in the conference room." Gillian collected her purse and stood, giving Le Fort a quick glance then led the way from the waiting area.
Of course, Torres spoke up once the door was closed. "What just happened?"
Gillian sighed as she pulled out reports on each of the witnesses they'd be preparing that afternoon. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I think you do," Torres replied stubbornly. She was worse than Cal sometimes. "You do remember that he's a murder suspect, right?"
"Excuse me?" Gillian tried to hide her shock, but found it difficult. Did they really think her that stupid?
"What Torres is trying to say," Loker said as he placed a hand on the table, propping his other on his waist. "Is that, you seemed to be having a… moment… with a suspected killer."
They did. Fantastic. Absolutely resenting the implication, the look she gave both Torres and Loker dispelled any notions to what they might have seen. Who needed words when she could freeze a man with a look?
"Get set up," Gillian stated curtly just as Bobby entered.
"Where's Zoe?"
"She's going over some details with Le Fort. She'll be in later. Can I talk to you for a second?"
There was anxiety in his voice that drew her immediate concern. Gillian kept her face blank, but was inwardly cringing at what Loker and Torres were undoubtedly thinking. Rising, she followed him into the hall outside the conference room.
"We've got a problem. One of the key witnesses just dropped out."
"Did he give a reason?"
"They don't have to. I mean, I can imagine why, but I don't know a hundred percent."
Gillian knew this had to do with the real killer. "What aren't you telling me?"
Bobby clenched his jaw and she knew she wasn't going to get anywhere. "I can't share those details and you know it."
"Fine. Give me something to work with then."
"I may be able to get one more witness, but you'll have to prep her Friday morning… before the trial."
Gillian deflated. That was less than ideal. Still, she was invested. Even if she thought something was incredibly suspicious about Le Fort, she would do this for Bobby. Well, she would do this for Lindsay, but Bobby by proxy.
Two of the witnesses appeared and Gillian found herself agreeing before she had a chance to process. "Fine, but don't forget this."
"I won't," Bobby said with a bright smile. "I promise. Ready to get started?"
"Ready as ever." Gillian let the first witness enter and followed him inside as Bobby brought up the rear.
.::.::.
"Foster. Just the woman I've been looking for," Cal breezed into her office, looking inhumanly chipper. He must've had sex last night. That or new porn. It was always a toss up with him.
"How can I help you?"
"It's more like, how can I help you?" Cal slouched into a chair, watching as she sorted her piles. His tone made her nervous.
"What did you do?"
"Hey, I haven't done a thing… yet. Just took a look at your D.O.D. project."
Gillian stopped mid-step. They did not interfere with each other's projects. That wasn't a rule; that was the standard. She gave him a warning look.
"Thank you for the offer, but I can handle it. I spoke with Bradford, he's already gotten the material he needs for his demo."
Cal nodded, but that didn't seem to be all. She wasn't sure if she wanted to open up the floor for discussion or not.
"Sleeping okay?"
Oh, for goodness sake. "No, not really, but you already knew that."
"Busy afternoon?" Cal asked casually as he cocked his head to the side.
"Lunch with Bobby, back to the office for witness prep, then I wrap up the day with Torres. I have two graduate students coming by tomorrow afternoon, will you be around?"
"Yeah, give me a call. I'll put the fear into 'em," Cal said as he rubbed his hands on the arms of the chair then pushed himself up. "It's been swell, thanks for the chat."
Then he was gone. She hated when he did that. She was having one conversation while his was completely different. He liked to come in her office sometimes, sit quietly, and watch her. He'd get an idea of her entire world by a ten-minute observation session. Whatever just happened, it was well above her head. He probably knew when she was going to have a headache and when she was going to eat dinner too.
.::.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Dinner," Luc replied. "Life is much better when you're here. Henri doesn't mope. He cooks and laughs and acts human. He's much more pleasant this way."
"So you only keep me around because I'm good for Henri? I thought it was for my company," Gillian smiled as she stirred the pot.
"Of course it's for your company. Why else would I be here without Henri? I consider you to be one of my best friends."
Gillian rolled her eyes. Luc was excellent at providing lip service. Still, she knew this to be truth. They really were good friends, with or without Henri. Luc was the romantic, the poet with a soft heart and a penchant for giving it away too easily. He had blue eyes just like hers and often times they got mistaken for brother and sister.
"So, it's been a solid two-months, time enough for you to be settled. How do you like the job?"
Gillian leaned against the counter and took a long sip of her white wine. She shrugged and motioned her hand in a wobble fashion.
"So-so?" Luc asked. "I thought working this was exactly what you wanted. What's the name of it again? I thought you were with World Bank."
"It's a branch - the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development. It is what I wanted. I like knowing that my work is benefiting others, it just feels so impersonal because I don't actually get to see if I'm actually making a difference."
"I assure you," Luc rose and topped off his glass. "I've never known anyone to touch so many lives without even trying, Gill. It may be impersonal, but you said so yourself, you get numbers and strategy. You like the behind-the-scenes stuff. Would you really want to be out in the trenches, dealing with the politics surrounding all this?"
Gillian reflected quietly. It made her seem so stiff and austere. But she truly believed her work was helping someone, somewhere. Still, her job was plenty political. She was one of two females in her division and the youngest employee by eight years. She'd been dubbed, ever so unfavorably, the wunderkind.
"I guess not," Gillian sighed as she pulled out the plates and set the table for the three of them. She and Henri took turns cooking, but tonight was special, Henri had news. Well, both he and Luc had news. That never boded well. Last time that happened, they spent three hours at the hospital waiting for Luc to get his chin stitched up.
"Mmmmm. Something smells delicious." Speak of the devil. Henri entered the kitchen his tie already tugged loose as he walked up and kissed Gillian. He pulled away and smiled at her, grabbing her glass and taking a sip of her wine. "Ugh, Riesling. I will never understand how you like this stuff so much."
"Blame Luc, he's the one who brought it over," Gillian turned to Luc who was grinning at them, arms crossed on the counter.
"I had to get her primed for the news," Luc said as he held up his hands innocently. "Speaking of, how about we get that out of the way so we can fully enjoy this meal."
"Spoken like someone who has a right to be guilty," Gillian stated suspiciously. "Okay, out with it. What's going on?"
Henri shot Luc a glare as he pulled a beer out of the fridge. She'd been hoping this was good news. Their hesitation only meant one thing. Henri took his time opening the bottle, then took a long swig and set it on the counter.
He grabbed both her hands as he glanced at Luc. "You know we're doing away with conscription her in Belgium, right?"
"Conscription? Like… compulsory enlistment into the armed forces?"
"Yeah, just like that. Well, it's being phased out… Unfortunately Luc was called up almost a month ago."
Gillian didn't react. She was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"I… I didn't want him to go through it alone, so I also signed up."
"You did what!" Gillian broke from his grasp and backed away quickly. "Are you forgetting that the US just ended a war? That I have friends coming back from the Persian Gulf as we speak, and you're jumping at the opportunity to send yourself into danger?"
"Gill. Don't get angry, just hear him out," Luc pleaded. He was always the more level-headed of the three of them. She glared at Luc and he wisely kept his mouth shut.
"It won't even be a full-blown year, and I get a sabbatical from work. We don't have to move or anything. Other than me putting on a uniform, you won't even know that I'm in it."
She stood there, completely gobsmacked. This was not what she'd been expecting at all. Maybe something like, Luc had a girlfriend, or Luc came into some money and was taking them on a trip. Not, Luc had talked her boyfriend into joining the army.
"Did you think of discussing this with me first?"
"Every single day."
"Then why didn't you?"
"Because I knew you'd be able to talk me out of it, and I don't want to get talked out of it."
Gillian crossed her arms and shook her head. She couldn't even articulate her anger. So, she did the second best thing. She turned away and grabbed her purse, pushing past Henri and Luc, both looking sheepish.
"Gillian, c'mon. Don't leave. We need to talk about this..."
"Why bother? You already made your decision."
She let the door slam behind her on the way out.
.::.
Cal was worried. By nature, Foster was this effervescent person. No matter how awful things got, she seemed to rebound pretty quickly. He never fully understood what she did with her grief or her despair. She shared a lot with him, but she had her limits, just as he did.
For someone who didn't want to take this case, she was working awfully hard to prove Le Fort's innocence. It could be a combination of reasons, many of them being complicated. All he knew was that there was a very real possibility that Le Fort would be found guilty, and he felt that Foster wouldn't handle that well.
The lights were low at the office, but hers shone brightly, a lone beacon calling him home. He tapped on her door, watching as she peered up at him blearily. He wagered that she'd just had a cat nap.
"Knew you'd forget to eat," he mumbled as he set some take-out on her coffee table. Cal pulled out bottles of water and salads while she padded over to him barefoot, curling up in the chair beside him.
"What're you up to?"
"Grant proposal. It's nearly time for me to reapply," she murmured. "I have no idea where the hours in my day keep going."
"Same place as mine - down the drain. Why didn't you tell me Thanksgiving was next week?"
"Because I see you for ten minutes every day and during that time my mind is in five places at once."
"Need to do somethin' 'bout that."
"What? Me being scatterbrained?"
"No, only seein' you for ten minutes. When did we stop working together?"
"When you shouldered me with a case that you wanted to take all for the sake of spying on your ex-wife's new partner."
"Sounds rather sordid. Better get those facts straight."
She grinned at him before she took a bite. "Noted."
They ate in silence, Cal with his thoughts, Gillian with hers. All he could discern was that she was exhausted and mildly stressed.
"Stop worrying," she murmured as she closed up the box and slid it inside the bag.
"I'm not."
"Sure." she shook her head regardless, smiling as he revealed another bag.
"You're too good to me." Foster glowed as she lifted out a small container of chocolate mousse. Unbeknownst to her, it was made out of tofu and far healthier than it had any reason to be, but that was his and the chef's secret.
Cal settled back in his chair and opened a couple of the files she been working on with Bobby, adding sporadic notes. As soon as she finished, Foster returned to her desk and continued working on her grant proposal. Sometime later, Foster's voice broke through the silence.
"Hey Cal?"
"Hmmm?"
"Thanks."
He glanced over at her and nodded; reveling in the warm smile she sent his way. That smile alone was his sole reason for being here. It reassured him that all was well in her world, and by default, his own. For the time being, at least.
.::.::.::.::.
A/N: 1. Did a fair amount of research for this regarding Gillian's job as well as all that conscription business. There will be more details... later, but that's all for now. 2. Thanks for waiting patiently guys, I know this wasn't that fun of a chapter, but it had to happen. 3. Thanks for reading!
TEN