I don't know where this came from, but it had to be done. Sorry.

Gillian Foster sits at her laptop with her signature straight-backed posture, her eyes fixed on the screen as her fingers moved skilfully across the keyboard and touchpad. Her mind is sharply focussed on the task at hand when she's disturbed from her reverie by a male voice cutting through the silence.


The brunette looks up in surprise, her eyebrows raising and her jaw dropping ever so slightly. It's a brief flash of emotion, a sign that, with surprise, indicated its authenticity. The expression is followed by a hasty effort to close her laptop.

"You are human," Loker says, watching as she rearranges her desk. The scrape under his right eye and dishevelled appearance are not helped at all by the holey grey MIT sweatshirt covering his torso and arms.

"You seem to be making a speedy recovery," Gillian comments, forcing a small smile that barely passes for genuine and making a quick move to tidy her desk- a nervous habit she had developed early in life. When she was caught on the back foot she would often resort to fiddling and adjusting small objects in her environment, finding some comfort in the ability to control even the tiniest of things.

"What are you really workin' on there?" Loker asks, unimpressed with her attempts at changing the subject.

"Personal stuff," Gillian replies, the forced smile making another fleeting appearance. Her response is accompanied by a one-handed hand shrug, a blatantly obvious indication she has little to no confidence whatsoever in what's she's saying. The two-handed hand shrug that follows eliminates any remaining doubt that she's lying. "It's my personal laptop," she adds, drumming the lid of it lightly, her hands barely touching the silvery surface.

"Personal stuff? In the middle of all this? That's what I call compartmentalisation," Loker replies, advancing into the room without waiting for an invitation. He knows she's lying. She knows she's lying. "Did they teach you that at the Pentagon?"

The older woman doesn't need to be an expert in recognising vocal patterns to detect the scepticism in his voice. "Can I help you with something, Eli?" she asks, her own irritation at both the disruption and the fact that he was calling her on her deception seeping through.

"Actually you can, Gillian," he says, emphasising her first name ever-so slightly. They didn't do first names... Well, not at work, anyway. While they were on the clock he was Loker, she was Foster, and that's how it had always been. They didn't blur the line.

Gillian looks up at the younger man. Even through his irritation she can see it. He wants it. Hell, with what was going on he needs it. They both do. They need to feel alive, like they're connected to someone. Anyone. Their relationship has always been one of convenience, neither of them have any illusions that it was anything other than casual sex. It's usually quick and dirty, almost always when one of them is in the middle of a crisis, and absolutely never in a bed. It's not the sort of sex Gillian would ever admit to having, but Loker's right, she is human, and she has needs. "Eli..." she says quietly, lowering her voice and doing her best to warn him off with a stare. It doesn't work. "You know the rules. Not at work." She can almost picture Cal now, sitting in his office reviewing the tapes. The situation has disaster written all over it.

"I know you need this as much as I do right now," he tells her, undeterred.

Gillian looks up at him, then down at her laptop, licking her lips slightly as she contemplates, her hands drumming lightly again. It's wrong to be doing this now, she knows that. She also surmises that there is every possibility that their little rendezvous would help relieve some of the stress they're feeling and help them concentrate better when they got back to work. The brunette shakes her head at the last thought, knowing as soon as it enters her mind that she's rationalizing.

"My place or yours?" Loker interrupts her train of thought yet again. He knows she's going to relent, he can see it all over her face.

"Mine," Gillian replies, standing up from her desk. "I'll meet you there. Park around the corner, Cal has a tendency to drop by unannounced in these situations and we've both go enough to worry about without trying to search for an explanation if he decides to pay a visit."

Loker's lips twitch, the corner of his mouth darting up briefly in amusement. He turns and leaves without a word then, making his way down the corridor and out to his car.

Gillian finishes packing away her things. Her 'personal laptop' finds its way into her bag and the files she'd been reviewing are placed neatly but precisely in their rightful order. A quick glance around as she put her bag over her shoulder tells her everything is in its place. She flicks the lights off before stepping out of the door, closing and locking it behind her as she leaves.

By the time Gillian arrives home Loker is already waiting for her, leaning casually against the wall outside her front door. He doesn't say a word as his eyes travel up and down her body slowly. He's always liked her in navy blue.

Gillian takes her keys out and opens her front door smoothly, barely glancing at her companion as she makes her way inside, leaving him to close the door behind them. She has only just finished putting her bag and keys down when he presses her against the wall, his lips on hers and his body pressing against her curves. She returns the kiss eagerly, running her fingers through his curls as their tongues fight for dominance. The kiss continues until she breaks it, grabbing for the bottom of his sweatshirt and forcing him to take his hand from up her top so she can pull the garment up and over his head. "You could probably buy a new one of those online," she comments as it hits the floor.

Loker shrugs. "It does the job, it's not worth the money."

"It looks shabby. I'll buy you a new one," she tells him as her nimble fingers make quick work of undoing his belt.

"You're my Sugar Mama now?" Loker smirks, raising an eyebrow as he starts to undress her.

"Don't push it, Eli, it's not too late for me to show you the door."

The younger man knows when to shut his mouth and decides the best way to help it stay that way is to keep it busy. He kisses from her shoulder up her neck, his lips brushing over smooth skin until his nose finds her hair, which he sniffs briefly. He can't place his finger on what the scent is, but she always smells divine. He makes a mental note to investigate the labels on her hair products next time he's using the bathroom.

By the time the last of their clothing is removed he's hard and ready for her. Foreplay has never been high on their list of priorities when they meet like this. Protection, on the other hand, is a must. While there was little chance of her conceiving, neither of them wanted to run the risk. Gillian wants a child, but having a baby with Loker would be a huge mistake. They have work and they have sex. That's the extent of their involvement, and that's how it's going to stay. He reaches down and retrieves a condom from his wallet, only to have the foil packet snatched from him. Gillian tears it open with her teeth and removes the rubber, the packaging falling to the floor unnoticed as she rolls the latex sheath down his shaft.

A second later she's positioned him at her entrance and he thrusts into her, his height relative to hers causing him to penetrate her deeply as he straightens his legs. Her breath hitches and he runs his hands up her thighs, taking one of her legs and wrapping it around his waist, the change in angle drawing out a low moan from his lover. "You feel so good, Gillian," he grunts quietly as he starts to thrust. "So hot and tight and wet, it..."

Gillian cuts him off. She likes dirty talk, but right now she just wants him to shut up and give her what she needs. "Eli, I'm glad it feels good, but you can spare me the commentary. I can feel what it's like, too, it's me you're fucking, remember?" She runs her hands up his arms and grasps his biceps, squeezing gently. He doesn't bother even trying to look hurt by her instructions to stop talking. This isn't personal, it's just sex. Instead, he hastens h is thrusts, his skin clapping lightly against hers as he intensifies his efforts. Gillian's younger lover reaches down between them and rubs her clit, not sure if he regrets it or wants to try harder when he feels her nails biting into the skin on his arms.

Gillian closes her eyes, listening to the sounds that their joining is generating. Skin on skin, heavy breathing, her own soft moans and groans, and the occasional quiet grunt from Loker. She squeezes her eyes shut tighter as her whole body tenses then releases. At least she has the decency to whisper his name as she orgasms. Four hard and incredibly deep thrusts later Eli follows suit, moaning her name and releasing himself into the condom before collapsing against her, both of their breathing heavy as he traps her against the wall with his bodyweight.

Not ten seconds later there's a knock at the door. Gillian's eyes dart to Loker's, both of them equally as startled as the other. The sound is enough to get them both moving, scrambling quietly to re-dress.

"You home, love?" Cal's familiar English accent comes through the door.

"Coming!" Gillian calls out hurriedly, checking her buttons are done up properly and her hair isn't a mess while she waits for Eli to disappear into the bedroom. She opens the door when the coast is clear, leaning against it in what she hopes will be perceived as a casual manner.

"Hey," she smiles, a little out of breath.

"Not interrupting anything, am I?" Cal asks. He glances over her shoulder and spots something that grabs his interest, doing his best to keep his facial expression passive.

"What? No, of course not. I was just, uh... finishing up anyway," she smiles, trying to act casual.

"No, I'm sorry, I really should've called first," Cal says, taking a step back. "I really just dropped by to see if you were alright... Give me a call later if you can, yeah?" he requests.

Gill considers insisting he's not interrupting anything, but she knows Loker's hiding in the bedroom. How long can she expect him to wait there? If Cal comes in he might stay for hours. "Okay, if you're sure," she smiles, just a hint of relief evident on her face. "Yeah, I'll call you later."

"Alright, love," Cal smiles. His eyes drift to the floor behind her again and he smirks. "Be safe," he tells her, turning and swaggering back towards the stairs, which he descends on his way back to his car.

Gillian raises an eyebrow at his last comment. 'Be safe?' she thinks. The brunette makes her way back inside, her bare foot finding something on the floor. She frowns when it sticks to her skin, lifting her foot to peel it off. The condom wrapper. She doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. She shakes her head, shrugging it off. What else can she do? She smiles. "I always am."

Talk about compartmentalisation.