{AN: The Elevator was originally posted in my T-rated One Shot collection entitled, Back to You, but due to popular demand, I have continued the story with a bit of M-rated flavour.}

The Elevator

"You make me so mad sometimes."

"I know. Anything else?"

And he's doing it again. Eyes searching her, making her forget her anger. Making her alter her positioning.

She looks away. Takes a step from his comfort.

"So I made a couple of calls and Mrs. Baird is alive and well and living in Boston and Mr. Erkhardt died in a helicopter crash in 1999."

"So she's mixing up people from the present with people from the past."

She can feel his eyes on her again; looking her up and down, noticing that she has left her coat open. Bearing witness to what she wants him to see.

"Including Charlie?"

There was a bump and a screech as the elevator came to a halt. The box shook clutching to its emergency cables, causing its passengers to rock within.

Gillian Foster lost her balance and fell backward into open arms. Cal clung to her, helped her gain her balance once more.

"You all right?" Cal asked looking down at her lips. Her scent clung to him, drowned his senses. He blinked, regained his focus.

Gillian drew a shaking hand up to her hair and flicked a strand of light brown hair from her face. "Yes. Fine." She pulled herself from his arms and took two long strides across the elevator floor to the lighted panel.

She pressed the Emergency Call button once and waited, looking up to the lighted numbers above the door. There was no answer.

The Seventh floor. They were stuck.

She pressed the Emergency Call button again. Again, she heard no answer.

"Nice." She muttered to herself and pressed the button again. A fourth time. A fifth time.

"We're stuck," she said, tension rising in her tone.

"Yes, thanks." Cal said crossing the floor to meet her. He placed a hand to her lower back. "I've figured that one out."

"The button's not working." Gillian said, pressing the button again and again.

"I've figured that out too."

Gillian stood up straight; her breathing rapid. "Don't just stand there, Cal. Do something."

Cal smirked and watched as her eyes closed, as she leaned away from him to support herself against a nearby wall.

"You all right, love?"

"Peachy." Her answer short, curt.

"Because you're turning pale." Cal took a step toward her. "Or green. I can't quite tell the difference in this terrible lighting."

Gillian opened her eyes to look at him and Cal saw the tears which were brimming in her eyes; the worry that flushed her brow.

"I'm fine." She closed her eyes again and fought to take a breath.

Cal reached out and took her by the hand, felt her palm thick with sweat. "I think you should sit down."

Gillian pulled her hand from his and took a step away from the wall. "I told you, I'm-"

He knees buckled beneath her as her arms reached out for him. Quickly, his arms shot out to take her in his arms again. He brought them instantly, gently to the floor.

Cal pulled back as they came to sit together; drew her hair away from her face.

"You still with me?"

"Yeah," she returned weakly; released another heavy, short breath.

"Not a big fan of the closed in spaces are we, Dr. Foster?"

Gillian smiled shyly. "Oh you're a sharp one, Sherlock."

Cal took up residence beside her, forced his arm around her drawing her to rest against him.

"We should start moving soon. There's probably just some malfunctioning with the phones, right? But this box looks like it's been built within the last 30 years, so it would have been mandatory to have maintenance on the cables at least once or twice."

"Cal?"

"Yeah."

Gillian turned to him slowly and swallowed, fighting against the lump which formed in her throat. "Could we talk about something else?"

Cal smiled and looked down at her slowly. "Like how wonderful you look right now?"

She smiled, cheekbones rising. "That'll do."

"You look lovely, Foster. Clean up nice, as they say." He looked her up and down again, nodding casually. "The shoes; nice touch."

Gillian shifted her body and crossed her legs at the ankles in front of her. "You think?"

"I know."

Gillian chuckled and threw her head back, resting against the wall. She closed her eyes.

Cal smiled and watched as her breathing calmed; watched each soft rise and fall of her chest.

"There is just one thing though." Cal said, interrupting their silence.

Gillian opened her eyes lazily. "What's that?"

Cal reached forward and gently removed her coat from her right shoulder. His fingertips lightly brushed her skin and Gillian had to suppress the small noise from forming in her throat. She fought against the instant reaction to close her eyes drunkenly.

Cal took her dress strap from her arm and moved it back onto her shoulder, aligning it perfectly with her bra strap.

"Oh." Gillian squeaked. She cleared her throat and ignored the smirk that formed on his face. "Thank you."

Cal leaned back to look at her; rested his hands on her upper thigh. "No problem."

"What are friends for, and all that?" Gillian said; the hint of ire ringing true.

"You're well put together, Gill. Wouldn't want it out of place."

"I-" She began but was distracted, lost in his fingertips which absentmindedly traced across the hem of her dress. He was gentle, his hands warm, and she was losing her battle to keep her breathing calm. Taken with him, her eyes were threatening to close once more.

His hands ran up her sides slowly and he traveled with them to rest beside her once more; running along the seam of her dress. Her breath heavy again, he looked up to watch as her cheeks flushed; her lips as they turned a deeper red.

"That's better," he said.

Gillian cocked her head slightly and swallowed. "What's better?"

"And here I was thinking that I might have to perform CPR on you?" Her dark blues radiant as she looked at him. "Unless of course you want me to."

There was a bump and a screech as the emergency brake released itself.

Cal and Gillian looked up to watch as the numbered lights flickered on and off, one by one, as they made their steady descent down to the ground floor.

The Elevator: Reprise

Gillian Foster reached up with outstretched fingers to press the elevator's Emergency Stop button. Heavy brakes ceased, causing the box to stop abruptly.

Her sights rested on the lit panel; on the number three which illuminated. He was silent beside her, waiting for her to turn and she did so, slowly, her hair draping across her brow.

"Gill?" he questioned, his voice resonating with the hint of anticipation.

Her bright blues looked out at him behind the curtain of light brown hair. "You said something about CPR?"

He smiled wide. "About you needing it?"

She leaned into him, shifted her weight to rest against him. "I believe that's how you put it."

"But you're breathing just fine now, love."

His words echoed his hunger and stirred something within her causing her to ache toward him.

Her eyes fell to his lips. She licked her own. "Am I?"

It was all he could do to utter, "Dear God." before her lips were on his, her tongue tracing the contours of his mouth. He fought against the weight gripping his chest.

Her hands moved on their own accord; slipping into his jacket, pulling him toward her. She shrugged her shoulders, releasing her jacket which fell from her to rest around her waist.

He let himself touch her, let his hands move freely over her without hesitation. He traveled over her dress, over her shoulders, down her arms.

Their passionate fury echoed in the back of their throats. A moan escaped her lips.

She uttered little noises; each one gripping his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

She pulled from his lips, drew back to look at him. She let her hands drop from his face; shifted to rise on her knees.

He watched her with fiery intent, watched her smile seductively. Her hands found the hem of her dress and lifted it slowly, exposing bare thighs. She raised a leg, lifted it over him. Slowly she lowered onto him; lips pouty, desire thick with intent.

"Hello." he said returning his hands to her body, letting them trail her backside.

Her eyes traveled his body rested at his middle where she sat. She cocked her head up to him, lips parting slowly. "Hi there."

He smiled, eyes shining. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

She leaned forward took his lips again, brought her hands to his face. "I'm still trying to figure that one out myself."

His hands rested on her hips. He shifted under her, rocked against her. "You're spectacular."

She smiled and shifted atop him and leaned forward.

"You think there's a camera in this thing?" She said with heavy breath. She rubbed her face against his cheek; felt his slight scruff prick her skin.

"You looking to put on a show, love?" He pulled her coat tightly around her waist.

Hands trailed her legs, found her thighs, the hunger that gripped her middle. She looked up at him as his expert fingers, trailed her; pricked and prodded.

She exhaled quickly as he found her. Her hand shot up to grip his chest; fingernails dug into his shirt.

"Oh God, yes." she confessed, and took his lips hungrily.

He continued his work while her fingers shot to his center and fumbled to unzip his fly. Fingertips found new flesh causing him to pause in his work, to take her lip between his teeth.

"Oh darling."

She moaned again, louder than she had intended which only caused him to grow hungrier, thick in her hands.

"I want you," she said to him, urged him toward her with her fingertips.

He pushed into her slowly, watched as her eyes opened wide, her mouth which gaped. Her cheeks flushed as he watched her; the tension falling from the lines on her face, cascading from her shoulders.

They fought for positioning as he rocked into her slowly. She reached up to grip the elevator's grab bar. She raised herself in time with him; guiding him along.

They fought against their passions, each wanting the moment to carry them. But the sensation of him inside her, the fluidity of her motions, rocked them quickly toward ecstasy.

She felt the change in his rocking and released her grip on the grab bar. Her arms clung to him tightly. She clutched him with muscular thighs.

He rocked with her until he could stand it no longer, and he shook as the compulsion took hold of him.

Her breathing heavy, she lowered herself to rest her head on his shoulder, arms tightening around his body. She shivered and he raised her coat to drape it back over her shoulders. He held her tightly, unwilling to let her go.

There was a bump; a screech as the emergency brake released itself again, descending them quickly toward the main floor.

Cal groaned. Gillian froze.

He reached up and hit the button again and the elevator shook once more as they came to a halt.

Gillian looked up at him slowly; closed her eyes as his fingertips trailed lightly through her hair.

"You know," she whispered. "They'll probably need their elevator back soon."

He leaned forward and kissed her gently. "Let them wait."