Well, here's the next one, and 'cause I'm just the slightest bit tired of telling you how irresponsible and lazy I am, I will just state once again that I don't own Lie to Me and that I'm unbelievably grateful for all your feedback, so R&R.
"Security!" it was one of the nurses who shouted it when she saw a gun on the man's hip. This scream somehow made him pull himself together, so he let Cal drop on the floor, breathing shallowly, and slowly took out his badge.
"Agent Reynolds, FBI. No need to worry, m'am. Everything is under control." he tried to sound polite, as usual, but his voice was still more like a roar, a roar of a hurt lion.
"You, piece of shit, you have thirty seconds to grab yourself, stand up and find a more or less suitable explanation for why Gillian is currently lying in there." he bent over Lightman, who was sitting on the floor, but neither did he offer him a hand to help him up nor did he show any signs of guilt for attacking him two minutes earlier.
Cal crawled up from the floor, putting himself upfront, his legs still shaking a bit but his face showing no emotion at all. There was only one reason why he was standing still, not shouting, not trying to smash his fist into the agent's face – meaning the only reason which mattered for him at the time, something about attacking an officer simply didn't count. Being accused was all right with him 'cause in his heart he blamed himself for what had happened just enough to beat himself to death.
"I didn't know" after a minute of silence the deception expert finally came up with something that didn't sound like complete rubbish to him.
"Hm... if I had considered even the slightest possibility that you lead her there while knowing that she might be hurt, you would have been long dead by now." there was not a whisper of smile or irony on Ben's face, and it was unpleasant, yea frightening, to see this usually calm and confident man so spleenful and wrathful.
"Now, you tell me everything you know, and then I make up my mind whether I let you exist near her one more second." Reynolds cast a look towards the room where Gill was sleeping and shifted a bit to put himself between the entrance and his company.
"Haven't you talked to Loker and Torres prior to coming here?" from the way the agent frowned Lightman came to a conclusion that he didn't and thus didn't wait for an answer.
"We took a risky case. Received a letter this morning, half-Spanish, from one of those Mexican government organisation. They asked for help with a drug-trafficking case, their suspect had, dunno, jumped the bail and was probably hiding somewhere here, so they wanted us to talk to some of those who might have had a finger in the pie." judging from his tone it was just usual bubbling, nothing uncovered what he really felt reliving those moments once again.
"They never showed up, did they?" uncomprehendinglyinterrupted Ben, staring Lightman right into the eyes. "You've just received some fucking letter God knows from whom, never talked to them, didn't even google them up and just decided it was a good case to take? Are you out of your bloody mind?"
"Guess so." Cal's eyes shot to the floor, indicating shame.
"You guess! That's just rich! You've guessed once, and here is the result!" his fists clenched, he took a deep calming breath and nodded, asking to go on.
"There was an address in the letter. We went there, and though it was written that we should wait for a group of their people to join us..." he reached the most unpleasant moment and subconsciously took one step back. "...Foster said waiting was a bad idea and came in before I could stop her. I followed, and just then there was a big Bang, and the floor started swinging. Think it was a small bomb. Found her lying next to the ladder. It might have collap..." all of sudden, Lightman shut up in the middle of a word. Somewhere down the hall a hospital TV started playing familiar music. He shot his head up to look at the clock hanging above the door. It was time.
"She's gonna wake up now. They sedated her for six hours only. Go talk to Loker and Torres. They'll show you all they've got, and I hope they've found something else by now."
Reynolds didn't move for an inch to give Cal space to enter the room. He just stood there, everything pretty clear on his face. Lightman took a deep breath, slowly realizing that he is the one who has to do all the talking, and better do it fast, somehow polite and without shouting.
"Listen, I need to be there when she wakes up, unless you want her to feel even more terrified than she was when she understood that she laid in a hospital, her back hurt like hell and I might leave her. And I don't care 'bout you thinking that you must talk to her here and now. It can wait 'til she's ready. So get out of my way, it's not so easy to punch me when I see it coming, you know." his upper lip rose faster than he could control the movement, flashing anger through his features.
Ben narrowed his lids, looking closely at his former boss, took one quick step forward and hissed:
"I hope you know for sure that I wouldn't move a finger if it wasn't for her, so be careful and try to make her feel better as soon as possible. I'm always here for her." He made one tiny step with his left leg, and Lightman silently squeezed past him into the room, being quite on time. Barely had he sat on his chair and habitually taken her hand in his, when she moaned slightly and slowly opened her eyes.
"Hi" she smiled weakly at the sight of him examining her intently.
"Yay, Foster, you're back!" he was obviously delighted with her smile, his joy shining through all and sundry of his movement, micro expression and features. They were, however, quickly replaced by concern, when he noticed a tiny wrinkle on her forehead.
"How bad is it? Should I call a doctor?" he leaned forward, his right hand scarcely touching her shoulder.
"It's okay, Cal. I can stand this much. As soon as I would feel really uncomfortable, you would be the first to notice, right?"
She was right. She was undoubtedly right, as usual, though. And her partner was gradually getting pissed off by himself, finding out that she once again was the sensible one.
"Whatever you say, luv. But... maybe I should call a doctor, or bring you something, or..."
"Just stay with me. Please" Gillian interrupted, tracing her fingertips along his palm.
"Won't leave, luv, already told you so."
"You're a despicable liar." she accused, no sign of any negative emotion on her face, though. "So you wanna tell me you haven't left the room and all those bags and bunch of flowers appeared out of nowhere by some magic means? Don't think so. Oh, and thanks for the roses, they're lovely."
"You got me! Had to go out to call the magician. And never mind about the posy, it was a bonus from him for all other orders." he moved forward with his chair and gently caressed her cheek. Her eyes were so close, so beautiful and so full of something he saw there so rarely that he couldn't even identify it at one sweep but he felt a sudden urge to do something... to kiss, maybe, and he was tempted, oh, so tempted – not that this feeling was new to him, speaking about their seven years of beating about the bush – but now he was really approximate to...
"Ahem" a man's voice behind Cal's back ruined all the moment straightaway, so he had no choice except for leaning back and turning to face the all pervasive doctor Strope.
"I'm glad to see that you're awake again, Dr. Foster. I guess it's time for us to talk about your condition... in private, right?" even a first grader would understand what he was getting at. Neither Gillian nor Cal were pupils, so they got it. And didn't like it.