This story is dedicated to Lodie, who happens to be the most awesome person on earth, because she is that wonderful. :] And because it was truly her idea. LOL. Thanks, love.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lie To Me.

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Christmas is that magical time of the year when families come together and sit around the same table.

Christmas is that magical time of the year when the number of hello's is surpassed by the number of exchanged gifts and miss you's, by the number of hugs and smiles and sometimes even by the number of tears.

Christmas is that magical time of the year when you come home not to find the silence or the coldness of an empty house, but to find the warmness of the human existence, of the mutual laces of love that connect a group of people that we learned to call family.

Unless, of course, you happen to be divorced and it's your ex-wife's turn to have your daughter home for Christmas.

Unless, of course, you happen to have lost your mother ages ago and haven't spoken with your father ever since.

Unless, of course, you happen to be Cal Lightman.

… … … …

Cal Lightman didn't really remember when or why Christmas had become just another day on the calendar; he didn't quite remember how his favorite holiday had become just another 24 hours for him to sit on his couch, scotch in hand, feeling sorry for himself.

Actually, he had an idea of when it had all started but he didn't feel like thinking about it or studying the situation any further because he knew it would hurt and the whole point of being drinking was to numb the pain.

So he just sat there.

He just sat on his couch, the now empty glass by the bottle, both resting over the coffee table that stood right in front of him. Even though his body seemed to be frozen and lifeless, you didn't have to be a face reader to know that his mind was elsewhere, somewhere far away, working actively.

You would be scared to know the number of people that would pay all the money in the world to know what goes on inside the head of the world's most famous lie detector; to know the number of people that would pay all the money in the world to know what was causing his face muscles to contract and show sadness, regret and pain.

You see, when you become a specialist in catching liars, you become a specialist in lying. And when you become a specialist in lying, everyone wants to know how you do it and how they can learn how to do it.

Unless, of course, they happen to be Gillian Foster.

His thoughts now rested upon that very same name.

Gillian.

A deep sigh came out of his mouth as his mind cuddled the feeling of hope that the name brought him.

He couldn't help but wonder where she would possibly be at the moment.

He knew that this was her favorite time of the year but he also knew that this was the first time she was going to spend her Christmas without Alec, her ex-husband.

He had talked to her earlier that day at the Lightman Group and she seemed to be fine.

He closed his eyes as he re-lived the last moments he had spent with her, as he remembered the last words she had told him.

Had she meant them?

Had she lied to him?

He cursed under his breath before reaching out for his glass and refilling it.

He hated the fact that it was getting harder and harder for him to read her face. It seemed that he was getting better at reading and she was getting better at hiding from him.

And he blamed himself for that.

Of course he did.

He was the one who kept pushing the bloody line that she had created to keep them both on professional grounds; he was the one who kept trying to invade her personal space...

Those had to be the reasons why she had started building her own wall of China, right?

Or maybe she had been hurt too badly…

He took the glass to his lips and emptied its content in one sip, the liquid burning its way down his throat, causing him to cough a little.

He couldn't stand the idea of her being hurting; he couldn't stand the idea that maybe she was hurting as much as he was; he couldn't stand the idea that maybe she was feeling as lonely as he was… he couldn't stand the idea that maybe she was feeling as miserable as he was.

He wished he could just ask her directly but he was afraid that she would take another step back.

You see, the last couple of weeks had been rough for both of them and had caused them to do and say things that he was sure they both regretted. At least he did. But then again, he had been the one playing the cruelest and the hardest cards when he knew she wasn't even aware of the rules of the game.

Or maybe she was aware of them… maybe she just didn't want to play.

That made him both happy and sad because it meant that she knew she was better than him but it also meant that he had attacked her and she had retreated and he knew that she only retreated from a battle when badly hurt.

He tightened his grip on his glass.

He tightened it so much that the glass gave in and broke down into a million of tiny pieces.

He witnessed the whole thing happening like an outsider, like an out-of-body experience. But instead of a glass, he watched himself crushing Gillian's heart with his hand.

And it bled.

It bled profusely in his hand.

And it was his fault.

And he could feel her pain.

Anger ran through his veins at such a high pace that he grabbed the half empty bottle of scotch and threw it against a wall.

On that very same moment the bell rang.

He cursed under his breath yet again and stood up, wrapping his bloody first on his black shirt as he walked to the door.

As he opened it he realized that there was no one on the other side. He raised an eyebrow and looked both ways before rolling his eyes at himself.

That was it.

He was losing it.

He was going insane.

He was going crazy to the point of starting to hear things.

But as he started to close the door something on the floor caught his attention.

He squatted and blinked twice to make sure that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

And they truly weren't.

Someone had actually left a baby at his door.

And even though the situation seemed too wrong and too unreal in his head, only one thing crossed his mind…

"I need Gillian."

He carefully grabbed the baby from the floor and walked back into the house.

… … … …

Weird, huh? LOL.

You have no idea.

Still, R&R if you feel like it.

I am going to write the second chapter now.

See ya soon,

Tess.