Disclaimer: Characters from the Lie to Me universe are not the property of this author. The author is making no profit by this story. Just taking them out to play and will hose them down and put them back when I'm done.

The Worst That Can Happen

Ria Torres didn't need to be an expert in detecting emotions when Gillian Foster burst out of her office. Fear and panic screamed from her boss. From her wild eyes, her flailing hands as they dug through her handbag, Ria knew immediately this was no time for lines or minding her own business. Rushing forward she laid a hand on Foster's forearm. "What's wrong?"

Foster's gaze jumped to her face, barely seem to recognize her. "It's Cal…Dr. Lightman…he's been in a car accident."

"Oh, no," Torres breathed. "Is he hurt?"

"I can't find my keys," Foster wailed. "Why can't I find my damned keys?"

Seriously hurt, Torres affirmed to herself. "Loker!" she bellowed.

A mop of dark curly hair popped around the corner, "Yeah?"

"You need to drive Dr. Foster to the hospital." She answered his unspoken question, "Lightman's been in an accident and I don't think she should be driving herself."

"Sure," he quickly agreed and laid his hand gently Foster's shoulder. "Dr. Foster…Gillian…where is he? What hospital?"

Foster took a deep breath, then another, which seem to steady her a tiny bit. "North Memorial. But I've got to get Emily first. She needs to be there, too."

"That's okay," he assured the distraught woman, "Her school's on the way." He glanced at Torres, knowing she'd pick up his signal.

"Right," she acknowledged, hoping Lightman had been taken to North because it was the closest hospital and not because it had the best trauma center in the area. "I'll call Emily's school and tell them you're on the way. I'll make some other calls and tie some stuff up and be there as soon as I can."

Loker nodded, relief at not having to deal with the situation alone for too long plain on his face. "I'll get my coat."

Like magic, Heidi materialized behind them, holding out each of their winter coats. Torres shot her a quick look of gratitude as she hustled Foster into her winter wrap. "Go," she gave Foster a gentle push down the hall.

Taking a second to calm her own shaking nerves as Foster and Loker trotted to the door, Ria breathed in her resolve. There were things that needed to be done. She could fall apart later.

Gilliam flew into the Emergency Room, Emily clinging frantically to her arm. Before they even made it to the information desk, a young woman in teal scrubs trotted up to them.

"Mrs. Lightman?"

"I'm his partner," Gillian responded, not caring if she claimed a role not rightly hers. "This is his daughter."

"You got here just in time," the young woman turned down the hallway with a follow-me gesture. "I'm Dr. Arun. Mr. Lightman is being prepped for surgery right now. If we hurry, you can get a minute or two with him before they take him in."

"How is he?" Emily dared to ask. "He gonna be okay?"

Gillian didn't see anything on the young doctor's face that she wanted to see.

"He's critical." Dr. Arun answered, eyes averted. She pushed open a door in front of them. "He's in the first room on the right. Just to warn you, he's been intubated, he isn't breathing on his own."

Gillian wanted to ask more questions, but Emily's anguished gasp and her own panicked knowledge that Cal would be whisked away, possibly forever, in a matter of minutes kept her silent. Taking a deep breath she entered the room.

It wasn't quite as bad as what she'd steeled herself for. There were no pools of blood or obvious maiming of limbs. Only Cal, lying sprawled on his back, a plastic tube in his mouth, his chest rising and falling with the regularity of the machine at his side. Something about his chest and abdomen looked wrong but Gillian had no time to analyze it.

"Oh, Daddy," Emily moaned as she pushed her way past Gillian to get at her father. Reaching out to grab, she jerked back inches from contact.

"That's okay," the dark haired man at Cal's side glanced up. "Touch him all you want. You won't hurt him."

With a sob, Emily clamped on to Cal's arm, moving up to stand by his head. "Daddy? Daddy, can you hear me? It's me. I'm here. It's me, Em."

The dark haired man – Greg by his name tag – didn't look up from his work, which seem to be threading a needle into the artery in Cal's wrist. "Arterial line," Greg explained without being asked. "It will help us keep a close eye on his blood pressure. As soon as I'm done, they'll be taking him into surgery."

Gillian understood and quickly moved up to the head of the bed. To her surprise, Cal's eyes were open and, though obvious heavily drugged, coherent. He stared intently at Emily and Gilliam could see the frustration at his inability to talk.

Gillian leaned over, unable to stop herself from stroking his fine hair back from his face. "You're going to be alright, Cal."

Not the right track, judging from the grimace on his face. "You want to tell Emily how much you love her?"

An emphatic nod.

Oh, Daddy, you know I love you too?" Emily clung desperately to his hand.

A softer nod, and slight smile around the tubing. His eyes flicked up to meet Gilliam's squarely. And she could read everything as he flung rapid fire micro-expressions at her. She wanted to close her eyes against everything she saw, but she'd done far too much of that to him recently. Wrapping her arm around his head, she whispered in his ear, "I know. I know. Me, too. I love you, too."

"I'm done," Greg announced. "I'm sorry. We have to bring him into surgery now. Dr. Arun will show you where you can wait and tell you whatever she can."

Gillian and Emily waited. Loker found them after parking the car and the three of them waited. A nurse or some kind of hospital staff showed them to the surgical waiting room and they waited. Time passed and they waited. They made themselves at home in one of the small cubicles with multiple chairs and a television and they waited. Torres showed up sometime later and they all waited together. The television droning in the background, they waited, periodically one of them would wonder over to the monitor which listed patients and their status. LigC was always still listed in SURG2 so they waited. Emily's mom called and said she was trying to get on the next flight back. Hours passed, Eli left and brought back some food and coffee from the vending machines and they waited.

Gillian tried to keep her mind in neutral, trying not to think at all. Worrying would achieve nothing, except possibly make Emily more anxious, so Gillian tried desperately tried to think of nothing. Tried not to think of Cal, gravely injured, possibly already dead. Tried not to think…Shit…where were the damned doctors!

"Cal Lightman's family?" a soft, tired voice startled the entire group, who'd been half drowsing.

"Yes," Gillian leaped to her feet.

"I'm Dr. Slaungard," he offered his hand. "I presided over the surgery on Mr. Lightman."

Gripping his hand, Gillian feverishly searched his features. "How is he?"

Slaungard grabbed a nearby chair and slumped down into it. "Better than I expected," he stripped the sweat-soaked cap off his head. "He's still in critical condition, of course, but I'm hopeful for a complete recovery."

The collective relieved sigh filled the cubicle. "Thank you," Loker whispered.

Leaning forward, Slaungard ran a hand through his hair. "He's not out of the woods yet. He has a number of very serious injuries…"

"What injuries?" Gillian ventured.

Dr. Slaugard held out his hand, spreading his fingers. "Both his spleen and gall bladder were ruptured and I had to remove them. Not that big of a deal, but he did have quite of bit on internal bleeding. His liver was damaged, I think we stopped the bleeding but we'll have to keep a close eye on it. His pelvis was broken in two places, we didn't do anything about that, we'll see how it heals on its own."

"When we saw him," Emily interjected breathlessly. "He wasn't breathing on his own."

The doctor nodded wearily. "Yes, that's the worst of his injuries. His thoracic diaphragm, the big muscle that separates the thorax from the abdomen and allows you to breath, was severely ruptured."

Gillian tried to suppress her moan, but it must have been audible, for Torres wrapped her hands around Gillian's shoulders and the doctor gave her a quick look of compassion.

"We stitched everything all back together, but in order for the diaphragm to heal, we've got the ventilator doing all the work of breathing for him. Hopefully, in a few days, if there are no complications, we can start to wean him off and see how he does on his own."

"Anything else?" Emily whispered.

"Well, his left ankle is a mess, but the orthopedic surgeon is in there right now pinning it back together." Slaungard scrubbed at his face. "And though the X-ray and CAT scan didn't show too much out of the ordinary, there was a significant amount of time before the EMT's got to him after the accident."

"So?" Gillian asked fearfully.

"His oxygen level was very low for too long. There is a strong possibility of brain damage."