A/N: Please be aware that this may contain triggering issues. Although they are not written as in ways which are particularly detailed, graphic or overt, please do not read if you feel you may be triggered by mentions of depression or suicide.

In the bleak mid-winter

Gillian waited somewhat nervously after ringing the doorbell. Would she be welcomed? Or would she be dismissed as had happened so often recently: the cold shoulders; the harsh words; the blank looks. Another thought brought about a shiver which had nothing to do with the biting wind or the two inches of snow in which she was standing.

Wallowski.

If the cop was inside, Gillian was leaving. She didn't have it in her to hate the woman, indeed it seemed as if she barely knew her. But none of their encounters could be deemed as comfortable, especially if Cal was between them acting as a poor mediator. Sometimes Gillian wondered if he had some sort of weird fascination with watching the women interact with each other. Regardless, Sharon herself seemed to hold an inordinate amount of intrigue for Cal.

Eventually, the door opened to reveal the man himself. Gillian couldn't at that moment discern another presence in the house so cautiously stepped inside, shedding her coat into the host's waiting hands. The only words that had so far passed between them were 'Foster' and 'hi'; the atmosphere between Cal and Gill wasn't entirely comfortable. Even the twinkling of the Christmas lights and the glinting tinsel did little to ease the psychologist.

After the troubling turn in their relationship mere months ago, she had wondered if he would even invite her over for what had become their traditional way to spend Boxing Day. It had started after Cal's divorce. He would spend Christmas day with Zoe and Emily and return home for Boxing Day (one day at each other's throats was more than enough, after all). As the Lightman Group followed the British tradition of being closed on Boxing Day, Gillian and Cal would finish the festive season together. However, this year he'd invited her over in passing only just before they'd left the office on Christmas Eve. And she was unsure as to the sincerity of his invitation. Hence the discomfort.

"Drink, darlin'?" he broke the silence, holding up a bottle of wine

Her eyes widened at the use of the term of endearment; it had been far too long since he'd addressed her as such. The confusing rush of emotions meant her only response was a mute nod, eliciting a mildly quizzical expression from Cal before he turned to pour ruby liquid.

They made small talk once they'd settled on the settee. Cal, sprawled over one end, outlined his Christmas Day; surprisingly enough, he and Zoe had only argued once. Gillian, for her part was impressed. If things had been as normal, she would have made a vaguely patronising comment, meant as a joke, expressing how proud she was of his self-control. But with things being as they were, she daren't utter anything against which he might retaliate.

The small talk dried up after Gillian revealed that her Christmas had been spent helping out at the homeless shelter. With no family in DC, and a rocky relationship with her distant father, she was otherwise destined to spend Christmas alone.

With no noise penetrating the room from outside, the silence was all encompassing. The longer it stretched, the more uncomfortable it became. Cal began fidgeting while Gillian waged a silent war with herself. The topic she was considering voicing was one which was sure to enhance the discomfort between the pair. However, Cal for once was not distracted by other women, attempting to antagonise her (to what end, she'd never been sure), or being plain rude. When would the next opportunity arise? And how much worse would the situation become if she waited?

"You know, I wasn't sure if you'd want me here today," she eventually uttered softly, raising her gaze from her wine glass. He raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question, shifting his head to the side to study her. "Well, things haven't exactly been smooth between us lately have they?" And the alcohol in her system seemed to fuel her confidence for she continued in an uncommon revelation of feelings between them. "The truth is Cal, I don't know where I stand with you anymore. More often than not you've treated me lately as if at best I'm nothing of importance to you, and at worst I'm an inconvenience you want rid of." A pause followed within which she stoically fixed her eyes on his, clearing showing her pain in their watery depths. "It hurts me Cal… I'm hurting."

Despite their abilities, or perhaps because of their abilities, they were very rarely so open with each other. Cal struggled to recall the last time his partner had demonstrated such candour as to exactly voice her feelings. And as such, he was at a loss as to how to respond. He kept his default blank expression, whilst Gillian's showed increasing hurt, and suddenly tears. He winced then, and suddenly lurched towards her, wrapping her up in a tight hug which had once been so customary between them. They were both tactile people; he liked touching her, and she liked being hugged. An embrace seemed the appropriate response, and Gillian thankfully seemed not to disagree.

"Not true, darlin'," he spoke with a softness so unlike his habitually abrasive manner; his gentle tones were reserved only for his daughter and the woman beside him.

She pushed away to face him once more, her features clearly portraying her desperation at the entire situation, and for the first time, Cal considered how close he was to losing her. "Then tell me why. If you don't feel like that about me, tell me why you've been acting like you do."

"I've trying to protect you, Gill."

Her brow furrowed at the apparent contradiction between his words and his actions and unsurprisingly, a little frustration crept into her tone. "I don't understand."

"I know, love… Just bear with me, yeah?" At her nod, he continued. "Darlin', you know aside from Em you're the most important person in my life, yeah?" She didn't look entirely convinced by his statement, and after the way he'd treated her recently, he could hardly blame her. Still, he carried on; he'd address it again later if necessary. "What we have is something special, yeah? And I don't want to hurt you."

"But you have, Cal," she implored, still utterly confused.

"But I could hurt you worse, love. If I did something stupid…" he trailed off, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with continuing.

"Like what Cal?" she questioned gently, leaning forward and peering into his face in an almost Lightman-esque fashion. He did stupid things all the time. He constantly put himself in danger, both to help others and sometimes she suspected just for the thrill of it. But this seemed to be about something more. The anguish she witnessed in his features caused a classic shock expression to flit across her features before they settled to portray her fear. Knowing Cal and his history like she did, there was only one explanation that would fit. "Like… Like kill yourself?" she stuttered in a small voice.

He cleared his throat, shifted, darted his gaze around the room and looked set to launch himself from his seat before he seemed to steel himself and fix her with an intense expression.

"Do you… Do you want to? Have you ever tried?" Her heart pounded and her face felt hot as she awaited his reply. But his words refuting her fears succeeded in calming her only a little. He was telling the truth, that much she could see, but the fact that he had considered it a possibility terrified her. As a practicing psychologist, she had encountered numerous patients with suicidal thoughts. But this was different. This was someone she considered her best friend (despite everything that had happened). "Do you think you might be depressed?"

"I've considered it. But… Nah, I think I'm alright."

She nodded at this, torn between acting as the psychologist and acting as the friend. But in the end she settled on a mixture of both, as was her usual nature. She could offer advice, but also the support only a friend could provide. "So why?" she prompted gently.

"I've always been scared to turn out like my mum, you know. She was 46 when she killed herself."

"And you're 46 now," she breathed, comprehending instantly. "You do know, just because you're the same age she was, it doesn't mean-"

"I know," he interrupted. "But it's always in the back of my mind, you know. Irrational but…"

Her heart still thudded hard as she trod the minefield of their emotions and the delicacy of their relationship, in whatever form it may have been at that moment. The months of Cal's snipping and dismissals had taken their toll and she was tentative as she continued. "Not irrational, Cal. But if it would make you feel any better… If you like… I could keep a closer eye on you." She cringed as she said this, knowing he hated her smothering. But to her surprise, his concern wasn't for himself but for her.

"Can't put you in that position, love."

"It'll be as much for your benefit as it is mine… You and the Group, you're all I have," she said, then immediately began backtracking. "I, I'm sorry." She shook her head and moved her hands in a motion as if to wipe away her words. "I shouldn't have said anything. I shouldn't be putting more pressure on you-"

"No, no, no," he interrupted. He captured her hands and brought them down between them. Silence descended. Gillian seemed like she was expecting Cal to speak, while he cringed internally as he recalled her last words and considered them in the context of the previous few months. If what she said was true – and he had no reason to suspect she was lying – then she must have been incredibly lonely when he treated her as if she was nothing to him. And couple that with the times he made reference to the Lightman Group being solely his… He was such a bastard sometimes! "Shit, Gill!" he suddenly exploded, startling her. She made to draw her hands away but he only held on more tightly. "I don't deserve you, darlin'. You've been nothing but lovely and all I've done is treat you like this!"

She opened her mouth to speak and he just knew she was going to placate him and offer up forgiveness which he always received from her too readily. He had to make it up to her; had to come up with a solution that would benefit them both. Firstly, he had stop hurting Gillian; no matter his fears, seeing the pain in her expression made him realise his actions were unacceptable. And secondly, he had to ensure he wouldn't lose her. It had always been a vague possibility (he never could understand how she could stand to be around him), but the revelations of the made the prospect of her leaving a stark image. Truthfully, it terrified him.

"Alright. Let's make a deal. We spend time together; no Wallowski," he noted her miniscule flinch and knew heidentified correctly another sore spot, and continued, "No work; no Loker or Torres. Just us. You see for yourself I'm staying straight, and I prove that you're important to me. What d'ya say, Foster?"

She was silent a second, weighing up her options. But really what was there to deliberate? If she declined, she would lose her best friend and put herself in a tricky position work-wise. If she accepted, she would stand to regain the close relationship with a man whom she had a better connection than anyone she knew. So she nodded, eliciting a rare Lightman-smile.

An agreement reached and a new path being forged, silence descended once more. This time, however, it was not fraught with unspoken fears and concerns. Cal flicked on the television and they settled back to watch Chelsea beat West Ham 2-0. He slung his arm around her shoulder part way into the game and she allowed him to pull her against his side. It wasn't a perfect reconciliation, and their relationship wouldn't immediately revert back to the norm; Cal had a lot of work to do to let Gillian in and express his respect for her, and Gillian had to work on trusting Cal again. But despite this, for that moment, both were content.

Fin

A/N: Many thanks for reading! Best wishes for the rest of the festive season and the new year.