She's Gone.

AN: number six in the Dr. Callian writing challenges.

Teaser

Sodden earth and howling wind. Tall oak trees sway violently against their ties. The sky is black. As dark as the suit Cal is wearing. He stands on Astroturf, his hands in his pockets, a vain attempt to keep them warm against the storm as it rages around him. Emily clings to his arm. She cries into his shoulder. She's not enough of an anchor. Cal stares down at the polished black coffin while the rain pours from the heavens, down the back of his collar and all over the casket, making fascinating criss-crossing patterns on the surface that disappear almost as quickly as they are etched. Little droplets bounce off the coffin, as if they don't want to acknowledge the solid reality of the situation either, as if they can't get away fast enough. Cal feels the same way. He is soaked through in less than a minute. Someone belatedly holds an umbrella over his head.

It's cold. The wind is relentless. It keeps many people away. Not that Cal is paying attention to the faces there. He can see her face in his mind, the way she was in life; such a cliché and he sighs. It makes him feel sick. He doesn't know how he is meant to be, how he should act. He thought he should be crying but he isn't. Or maybe he is but the salt on his cheeks is mixed in the freshwater falling from above and he can't tell anymore. It hurts so much, he just can't tell anything about anything anymore.

Apartment building. Night.

Gillian knocks on an apartment door. She clutches her coat around herself a little tighter and looks around. At the end of the hall a tree branch scrapes a tattoo against the window pane. A warning or an over active imagination? She's clearly uneasy. And it has everything to do with the person that answers the door.

"Thank you for coming," Zoe is polite initially as she holds the door open. They move through to the dining room where Zoe has her case notes spread out all over the table. Gillian shrugs out of her coat while Zoe reaches through the mess for a specific folder. "Take all the time you need," she tells Gillian as she gives her file.

"I'm not promising to find anything in your favour," Gillian warns the other woman as she seats herself, her phone on the surface just in front of her, as if she is expecting a call from someone.

"All I'm asking for is a second opinion. He showed clear signs of..."

Gillian holds up a hand to stop her. With a polite smile she says, "I'll read the file, make up my own mind."

"Sure," Zoe pretends she isn't offended with being interrupted. "Wine?"

"No thank you. I have to drive," Gillian gives another polite smile and she places the folder down in front of her, over her phone. Zoe leaves the room to pour herself a glass of white and returns to her laptop resting across from where Gillian is reading. She sits and sips and peers at Gillian over the screen of her computer. Gillian reads on obliviously and after some time she doubles back through the file to the second page. She reads again and then gives a little shake of her head. "I'm sorry Zoe but while his behaviour can be classed as erratic I would still be inclined to agree with the initial psychiatric assessment. When people typically hear voices that are distressing or encouraging them to do something destructive and your client would more than likely continue to hear them now. In fact, recent thought within the psychiatric community is that hearing voices is not a classification of mental illness at all; even voices that cause distress to the hearer."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Gillian speaks carefully. "That your client is more than likely exaggerating what he experienced, if he experienced hearing distressing voices at all."

"I knew I should have tried someone more objective."

"Excuse me?" Gillian is slightly offended.

"You don't want to see what's there because of our history."

"We don't have a history," Gillian points out with a banal smile.

"Oh come on," Zoe gives a passive aggressive scoff. She sips her wine while they stare at each other, fake smiles plastered over lips. "You can't honestly sit there and tell me there's not any tension between the two of us."

Gillian looks away with amused disbelief. She gathers her purse to leave but Zoe speaks again and her words keep Gillian rooted to the chair.

"Tell me something. Have you two ever...?"

Gillian doesn't ask 'who two?' She asks: "Ever what?" She knows exactly who Zoe's talking about.

"You know. Slept together."

"I'm going to go," Gillian announces.

"So you have? Was that before or after the divorce?"

A sinking feeling washes over Gillian instantly. She still hasn't got up from the table and a part of her thinks maybe it would be a good idea to just get this all out in the open. "Cal and I have never slept together if that's what you want to know," she delivers evenly and directly, looking Zoe in the eye.

"You don't expect me to believe that do you?" Zoe gives a false laugh.

"Actually, because it's the truth, I do," Gillian tells her firmly, but not without a hint of derision. She makes to leave again, this time standing and tucking her chair into place and grabbing her coat. She turns to walk away when Zoe shoots at her: "I've seen the way he looks at you. I've always known."

"Is this why you invited me over?" Gillian turns back to her.

"Why do you think I left him?"

Gillian is clearly stunned. She stands still for a moment and they watch each other again, Zoe confident, Gillian looking as though she has walked into the middle of a shit fight. "This isn't even about Gianni anymore." Probably stating the obvious, but at least saying it aloud means there's no room for confusion.

"No, we were talking about you and Cal."

"No we weren't," Gillian tells her firmly. She turns for the door again.

"If Cal asked you to take a look at the case file would you have given him the same answer? I mean, you'd do anything to please him."

Gillian comes back into the room. "Why are you being so antagonistic about this?"

"Just thought we should finally clear the air, woman to woman."

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Oh please, I don't have to be drunk to have it out with you."

Gillian gives a little sigh. "I'm leaving."

"Does that mean you really would do anything to please him?"

It was irrational for her to stay. And it made her look weak to keep walking back into the proverbial lion's den but there was something in the way Zoe was talking to her this evening that has gotten under Gillian's skin. She should continue to walk away and out the front door but, no, she turns back once again. "Cal and I have a professional business relationship only. He respects my professional opinion and I respect his."

"Cal's not the hero you paint him to be."

"I'm aware of Cal's faults," Gillian replies haughtily. And this time she does find the strength to leave.

She even makes it to the front door and has it open before Zoe calls out: "What about the skeletons in his closet?"

"I know all about his skeletons," Gillian yells back. "Deal with your demons Zoe! Before they choke you to death."

Opening credits