Normal Disclaimers apply.

Cal was nervously shuffling around the kitchenette of his tiny one bedroom apartment, over stirring his sauce, simply in need of something to keep his hands busy. Tonight was important, so important that if it didn't go the way he needed it to it would be enough to break him. The last twelve months had robbed him of his family, his home and his job, in fact the only things he had to his name were his science and his best friend, who was on her way over. And if she turned him down too – No. He couldn't think like that, he had to think positively.

Turning the heat down, he padded to his bathroom to calm himself down. He splashed water on his face, griped the sink and looked at himself in the mirror, the water trickling down his face made him look like he was crying.

"Pull yourself together, Lightman. Stop being soft." He aggressively wiped the water away from his face, "This isn't the time to be scared. She's your friend; she's had a rough couple of months too, she's not going to say no. She knows you want to ask her something, just be nice, have a nice dinner, laugh and then ask. Now, go and get changed and be yourself."

He sighed again. He didn't sound convinced to his own ears. He didn't know how he was going to try and convince Gill who made her salt and bread on picking up on vocal tremors.

An hour later, when the door bell rang, Cal was full in the grip of panic. His sauce was over reduced, his pasta was burnt (he'd managed to set the first batch on fire and the second batch he'd managed to obliterate to the point of inedibility), he'd gone through three sets of shirts – two being ditched because they were either too casual or too smart – the latest having been discarded because he'd inadvertently thrown sauce down it in a last ditch attempt to save it and therefore he was currently standing topless in his kitchen which looked like a bomb had gone off. And now Gillian was here. Time to go for comedy.

With as much of a grin as he could muster, Cal swung the door open, leaning against the frame. Gillian's bubble of laughter was everything he ever wanted to hear. It helped to dislodge some of that horrible tension that had settled over his chest throughout the day; it didn't matter that he was standing in front of his best friend in only jeans and the flowery apron she'd bought him as a joke the month before hand. She accepted the proffered glass of wine and stepped into his pit of chaos.

Cal closed the door, leaning his head on it as Gillian walked into his kitchen. Groaning as the spluttered noise of Gill spitting her wine out filtered down the hall.

"Cal! What… what happened?!" Gillian asked when Cal finally made his way to join her.

"Um, I had a bit of an accident?" he mumbled, looking decidedly sheepish.

"But… but…" she looked momentarily lost for words.

A grin blossomed across Cal's face, "Not very often you don't have a reply, luv."

"Cal!" she glared, then giggled "You're such a good cook, how did this happen?" She gestured round the partially destroyed kitchen.

He shrugged "I have a lot riding on this dinner tonight," he stated simply "Let me just grab a clean shirt and I'll take you out." And with that he spun on his heels and left her with the debris.

Completely at a loss, she just stared after him, until his bedroom door closed. The kitchen was a state: pots and pans everywhere, the smell of burnt onions and tomatoes filled the room, bits of vegetable, sauce and pasta littered the floor.

The only thing missing was a broken glass, she thought to herself, oh wait, there's one in the sink.

This was very unlike Cal's pristine cooking style; something must've really gotten him rattled. She'd gathered that this evening carried some weight for him because he'd been so sweetly nervous when asking her, which was strange seeing as they ate together at least three times a week as it was. As to what it was, she didn't have a clue. She prayed his intentions weren't romantic though, as much as they were getting closer, both of them were still hurting from their respective divorces, with not enough time to heal all the wounds that sort of fighting leaves. Let alone enough time for Em to come to terms with it.

Cal cleared his throat. He was standing there in a deep blue dress shirt and jeans, matching her simple, but form fitting dress.

"You really are a sight for sore eyes, darlin'" she blushed slightly, "you ready to go?"

"Thai?"

"Your wish is my command, luv." He confirmed with a flourish.

"Come on, Cal. Tell me what tonight's really been about," Gillian demanded. He'd survived the whole car journey and most of the starters, but now he was getting antsy. Like a nervous kid, but with Lightman's never ending blustery energy. Gill was getting exhausted just watching him.

He made some sort of noise as if to tell her that he had no clue what she was talking about.

Gillian's eyebrow shot somewhere into her hairline "Cal, you have been jittery since this afternoon, we would be eating at your apartment if you weren't so jumpy today!"

"Ever thought that maybe I thought you deserved being taken out for a proper meal." Cal squeaked, gesturing wildly.

"Cal,"

He sighed. "I have a question to ask you, but I don't want you to feel pressured to say yes because we're friends. I want you to take your time, not rush into it, you know, figure out what you want."

"Cal, use your words." Though Cal could see the slight smile creeping in around her eyes.

"I'm writing a book." Gillian could have laughed at the shocked look on Cal's face, as if the words had come out completely unbidden.

"Oh, is that right?"

"Yes, and I'm going to go away. For research. For six months."

He looked fit to burst, Gill considered towing this out a little longer, because apparently this genius was going to need some help. Then he flashed her a look of pure panic and she caved.

"And? This has what exactly to do with me?" her head tilted, her face open. She really had no clue, and for some reason that calmed Cal. She wasn't playing him.

"I want you to come with me." His stomach had finally stopped squirming, there was nothing more he could do.

"That's insane!" she squeaked, her arms started flapping.

"Is it? Think about it, Gillian. You're learning the science, neither of us have a family to think about any more, both of us are out of a meaningful job. I've already got the publishers onside for us to be co-writers, and the forward is enough to cover the trip and to start up a company when we get back. We're solid. We can do this."

Gillian was flabbergast. Somewhere in that block of Cal's selling point he'd reached across the table and entangled his hands with hers, his eyes were imploring her. Say yes, please say yes, they said. She was speechless. She hadn't seen that coming, she didn't know what she had expected, but this wasn't it. She didn't know the science, pure and simple, how was she supposed to co-write a book?! And be away for six months?

Cal was right though, with the collapse of her marriage and loss of her job, she had nothing that actively kept her in the city. In fact, in the last six months the only thing that kept her leaving the city was her newfound friendship with Cal.

"But I don't know anything, Cal!" her voice raising another octave.

He actually chuckled at that "says the woman with the PhD!"

She opened her mouth as if to argue, but he beat her to it.

"Gill, I'm serious. You're more than smart enough, you intuitively understand people, you're already making ground on vocal analysis, but more importantly I need you to keep me from going crazy out there. I need my touchstone and I need my best friend. Gill, luv, please, I'm begging."

For the first time in a long time he caught her eyes sparkling and grinned knowing her answer before she opened her mouth.

"Where are we going?"

TBC