This is my first fanfic, so i'm sorry if it's rubbish, and if there are a million mistakes!

I don't own Lie to Me, the characters etc.

Gillians POV

I've been sat here for hours. Hours. Because it's not every day that one Cal Lightman saunters into your office, casually announces that he's written a new book, and you're the lucky one who is going to write the foreword. That's right, you heard me. New book. Book number three. You'd have thought after the bloody shit storm I went through trying to get him to write the second one that a third would be a complete none starter. Apparently I was wrong. Yet another thing I was wrong about.

I'm wrong about a lot of things, according to Cal. I was wrong to freeze his finances. I was wrong to distrust Wallowski. I was wrong to date Dave. I was wrong to think that things would change.

After Clare died, there was a moment where it felt like it always had between Cal and I. It felt easy, normal. It felt like home. And in that moment, I thought we'd finally got past all the crap that had been weighing us down. All the differences and the distrust. I thought he was finally seeing me again. He would smile when I walked into a room. A proper smile. The rare smile, that he only saves for a special few. He would watch me. Follow my movements, the way I would move round a room. It was like when we first met. Back when he would stare for hours. Like he couldn't see anything or anyone but me.

I was stupid, I thought that was it. That we were back to how we were. That everything was fixed. Then it stopped. Just like it did before. We were back to the distant shrugs. He wouldn't follow me. He wouldn't smile at me. I was back at arm's lengths. The distrust burning in his eyes. Burning behind every word, every look.

That's how it's been ever since. We just can't seem to find our way back. We're polite. We work cases together. But that's it. There's no late night drinks. There's no dinners. There's no personal conversation. Its just professional. Business. We just muddle through. Being driven further and further apart by the fucking wall that he's constructed between us. He went and shot my line to pieces the second I got divorced. With all his flirting and touching and caring. The line didn't really stand a chance against Cal Lightman on a mission. But had I known that the only reason he wanted my line banished was so he could build a wall so high and wide, that I don't have a hope it hell of knowing how to get through it, or over it, or round it, I would have kept my line in place. At least with the line I still had a friend. I still had Cal. And I certainly don't have Cal now.

Which is why I've been sat here for hours. Because how in the bloody hell am I supposed to know what he wanted me to write. Nothing personal, nothing but business for months and now I'm supposed to write the foreword to his book. A book I know nothing about. Maybe that's what I should write.

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoy this book. I don't know what it's about. But I'm sure it'll be worth the money you spent on it.

Gillian Foster

Business partner, ex friend.

Ok. Maybe not. He'd kill me. I think. Emily wrote the foreword to the last book, and it was funny and insightful and personal. It was perfect. He loved it. Said it was the best thing about the whole book. So really, in my heart, I think that's what he wants. He wants someone who knows him to write the truth about his work. About him. But I don't think I know how anymore. I don't even know if I really know who he is anymore. Ok that's a lie. He's still him. He's still who he's always been. Just with an almighty wall around him, trying to keep me out.

But I'll try. I have to. It's Cal. And no matter what shit we've got going on, I've never been able to say no. No matter how distant we are, I'll always come running. He's ingrained in my life. In my heart. And he asked me. He wants me. And that means something.

Damn him, it means everything.

It means there's hope. It means that despite the new wall he's got around himself, the wall designed to keep me and only me out, he wants to let me in. He wants me to be the one to write something personal. About him. About us. It means even after all the harsh words, and cold shoulders, and hurtful looks, my voice is the one he wants to hear. My truth is what he wants. What he needs. He's just never been very good when it comes to using his words. So when he says 'Oi Foster, only gone and written book number three haven't I. Haven't got a bloody foreword though. Wouldn't write it would you', he's really saying something completely different.

So if I have a hope in hell of fixing us, of gluing us back together, of getting us back to before it all went wrong, well then I have to do what he wants. I have to write the foreword. I have to write it, and it has to be the truth. Our truth. He'll know if its not. He'll know if I'm lying. He always does.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

After nearly a year of being nothing but business partners, nearly a year of hurt and pain and distance, after nearly a year of radio silence from him and his bloody wall, he's ready. He's ready to hear the truth. About him. About me. About us. And he wants to written at the beginning of his bloody book, for the world to see.

Damn him, and his need for everything to be so extreme. He could have just come to me, after hours, when it's just me and him lingering in the silence of the office. He could have come to me, and said he was ready. We could have talked. Figured this out just between the two of us.

But then, he's never been one to do things by halves. So, it's going down in print. Everything I have to say. Everything he thinks he's ready to here. It's going down in print. For him. And everyone else. The whole group will see it, because as much as they hate him most of the time, they find him fascinating too. Anything he's written is worth their time. And money. Then there's Emily, because, well it's Emily and she wouldn't not read his book. Wallowski will read it, for the same reason that Zoe will read it. Intrigue. They just won't be able to help themselves from picking up a copy. Maybe Alec, although I doubt he really cares. Then there's the rest of the world. All the strangers. The people all over the world who will pick up a copy of the book, read what I have to say and feel like they know everything about Cal and I. All the personal stories and details, all the ins and outs, that make me and Cal, me and Cal. Told you he doesn't do things by halves.

I've been sat here for hours. Because I thought this needed to be perfect. But it doesn't. Because nothing between Cal and I will ever be perfect. It's always been complicated and messy. But that's what makes it right. That's what makes it true. The things that truly matter in life, well they're never easy. So I'm done sitting here, worrying about what I should or shouldn't say. Worrying about how to make it perfect. It doesn't need to be perfect. It just needs to be honest.

So here goes.

Dear Reader…

Thanks for reading. I hope you liked it. Review if you fancy. Don't know whether to keep this as a one shot, or keep going. Maybe a Chapter from Cal's point of view?