A/N: Firstly, a massive thank you to all those who reviewed Silent Understanding, it was so flattering to read such positive reviews, so thank you, I really appreciate it. For now, I think I will leave it as a one-shot, mainly because I don't really know how I want it to continue – so feel free to imagine your own ending for that one! Anyway, thanks to you lovely people, I have been encouraged to write another wee Cal/Gillian one-shot. I tried to make it a little less angstangstangst but I'm not sure I succeeded entirely! Reviews are always appreciated. Rachael xx
Cal deftly swiped two freshly poured flutes of champagne from an unattended tray as he meandered down the hallway of The Lightman Group away from the annual Christmas party. The usually sterile office atmosphere had been replaced with laughter, music and the intermittent chiming of champagne flutes clinking together. Everyone was certainly in high spirits. It wasn't so much that he loved Christmas itself; rather he loved the effect it had on the people closest to him. Two people in particular. Emily, the centre of his universe, who morphs back into his little girl for a month, bouncing round the house singing carols and baking spice cookies until their aroma is embedded in the walls. And Foster. 'Idiotically happy' Foster. He would spy on her decorating the Christmas tree that adorns the reception area of the building with the glee and excitement of a three-year old unwrapping her first Barbie doll. But tonight was different. The tree looked stunning as usual, but the sparkle in Foster's eye was absent. He had watched her at the beginning of the evening, greeting the guests and staff as they arrived. When she had first walked into the room Cal gulped for air: she looked simply breathtaking. His hazel eyes were locked on her as she weaved through the throng of people. Her slight frame was tightly embraced by a cherry red dress and her hips swayed tantalisingly as she glided across the room. Cal was snapped out of his trance with a jovial "Merry Christmas Dr. Lightman!" and slap on the back from one of the more generous benefactors to The Lightman Group. When Cal redirected his gaze to where Gillian had been standing, he could no longer see her.
Gillian sighed and internally berated herself for being so dramatic. Perched against the edge of her desk, staring out into the night she ran her hands down the front of her form fitting dress smoothing the creases that had formed. She usually loved their Christmas party, but tonight she had walked into that room and felt sick to her stomach. For every person she had to shake hands with and exchange the same pleasantries and small talk her discomfort grew. Under the pretence of making a phone call, she finally escaped to the silent solace of her unlit office.
Cal reached her office but stopped short of the door. His eyes skated over her body taking in every curve hugged by the vibrant fabric. She pulled her hands through her hair resting them at the nape of her neck before dropping them onto the desk behind her and throwing her head back emitting a defeated sigh. Cal licked his lips as he traced the low scooped neckline: he could see the contour of her delicate collarbone and the gentle swell of her breasts. She really was breathtaking.
Transferring both glasses into one hand Cal pushed Gillian's office door open and stepped inside. Gillian rolled her head to the right at the sound of her door being opened and gave a weak smile as Cal sauntered in, champagne in hand. "Aye, aye. Whatcha doin' hidin' in 'ere for love?" he stood next to her, propped against the desk and proffered one of the champagne flutes. He looked at her sideways as she quietly accepted the glass. "Loker's dead keen for a dance with ya, and it'd be cruel if he spent the night bein' turned down by women who are much too good for 'im". Gillian laughed and sipped the sparkling liquid.
He could see the tension in her brow, but chose to ignore it. Instead the unlikely pair slipped into their familiar territory of comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional rumble of raucous laughter from the foyer. Cal drained his glass wishing he'd brought the bottle. He replaced the empty flute on the desk and tenderly put his left hand on Gillian's shoulder, "is everythin' alright love? I didn't think I'd ever see ya this subdued at a Christmas party!" Gillian finally brought her eyes level with Cal's and offered a small smile, "I'm just tired Cal" but the quick glance back down to the floor as her eyes shifted left didn't escape Cal, "well, that's nothin' to be ashamed of, Foster" he said knowingly.
Her eyes shot back up level with his – was reading her damn it! "Cal, don't do that. It's nothing. It's…" she searched for the right adjective, "it's stupid". Cal squeezed her shoulder, "well, I'm fairly proficient in that department love". Gillian smirked and finished the last drops of her champagne, "you should have brought the bottle".
Cal's eyes searched her face, fixing her with a compassionate gaze, "let me in, Foster. Tell me what's wrong". He really could be sweet at times.
Images and memories of Christmases past flashed through her mind: her and Alec's first Christmas together – they didn't even have a Christmas tree, they cooked a sad little roast chicken and drank cheap wine, but it was the best Christmas ever. She thought of the morning she and Alec brought Sophie home. They were both brimming with excitement, reeling in the promise of a happy future: the idea that they could have a real family Christmas with a child, their child.
Gillian felt her face getting hot as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, "I see these happy couples and families together and, and all I can think of is my failed marriage and my beautiful baby girl who was taken from me…" Gillian sighed dejectedly but her tears were retreating. Standing here with him in the dark was so comforting. A wave of gratitude washed over her. She was grateful for Cal. "This isn't even my first Christmas alone…but, it just feels so… different", she glanced at him, gauging his reaction.
Her eyes briefly roamed over his face earnestly before she turned her head away to look out the window again. The pale orange glow from the streetlights highlighted her cheekbones and for the third time that night Cal was in awe of her. She was breathtaking. Cal edged closer to her so they were shoulder to shoulder; each could feel the soft rise and fall of the other's chest, and if they were really still, they could hear their pounding heartbeats.
Cal cocked his head on its side, his eyes still fixed on the blackness beyond the windows. "Gill, you're not ever alone", he took her hand in his squeezing it, "you've always got me love". A smile crept to the corners of her mouth "I know," she looked over at him and he returned her gaze with a look so loving she thought she might stop breathing. Gillian rested her head on Cal's shoulder, fingers entwined and hands clasped they watched the snow that was beginning to fall, elegantly dancing under the streetlights "but it's nice to hear you say it".