A/N: This is my first Lie to Me story and I hope it's okay. I was feeling very frustrated with how Cal was acting in the first few episodes (switched between wanting to kick his ass and give Gillian a hug). This story came out of that although now its a bit later in the season cuz of how long it took me to write and he's gotten a tiny bit back to normal, kinda. Anyway this would probably take place between episode 4 (Double Blind) and episode 5 (The Canary's Song).
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
As Zoë approached the building she found herself slowing down, subconsciously trying to halt her advance. She had to talk to Cal and she never liked having to do that. Would it go well? Would it go badly? What would it mean? How would it affect their already tumultuous relationship? How would it affect Emily? When had it become so complicated?
She squared her shoulders and continued in, heading up to the offices of the Lightman Group. They needed to discuss Emily's college plans. Work was the safest place to do so; although it wasn't without its drawbacks – it was Cal's home base and, of course, Gillian was there.
As Zoë walked past the secretary's desk, she waved a greeting and continued purposely towards Cal's office. She wondered if he was even in – she would have called ahead but then he definitely wouldn't have been here. Glancing ahead, she spotted Gillian. She was in one of the conference rooms and hadn't spotted Zoë herself yet – the only reason Zoë saw her was because of those ridiculous glass walls. Gillian seemed to be gathering up papers at the head of the table opposite the TV.
She seemed to be frowning slightly, and while that could simply be due to whatever case the papers were about, Zoë stopped to observe her more closely. Despite her feelings toward the other woman she couldn't help but take advantage of the chance to observe Gillian without her being aware of it – or even without Cal being present (significant in his affect on both of their behaviors).
Gillian seemed to be under more stress, more burdened than she used to be. Zoë supposed that it could simply be due to her divorce and perhaps the business, but something about that explanation seemed unfitting somehow.
Then Gillian paused in the middle of packing up the papers and froze. For a second Zoë thought Gillian had spotted her watching but she appeared to be thinking about something serious, judging by the unfocused look in her eyes and the expression on her face. One thing Zoë envied about Gillian was the ability to make her face go still. She would always do so when something serious came up. It made her harder to read – something she knew intrigued Cal.
Zoë admired this and wished she could do it herself because she too had been hard to read in the beginning. However, she had accomplished it by showing too many emotions at once. Both women dealt with Cal differently than each other and most other people. When Cal got in people's faces they would normally back down and walk away (usually offended). Zoë was one of the few that fought back, and just as hard. When he got in her face, she got in his. It was part of what made their relationship have such highs and, unfortunately, such lows.
Gillian on the other hand, did neither; surge forward or back down. She simply stayed exactly where she was, stood her ground. When he got in her face she would let him but would refuse to move an inch. She would use a calm tone. Occasionally if he was really getting out of line she would yell (though even then it was just to get his attention), but she always reacted patiently. At first Zoë had blamed her unusually calm demeanor towards Cal on the fact that she was a psychologist, but she eventually came to realize it was something all Gillian's own - unique to her.
Zoë was curious as to what was bothering Gillian mainly because it most likely had to do with Cal. Zoë had long resented Gillian's presence in Cal, and Emily's, lives. This had led her to act cold towards that other woman. At first Gillian tried to be friends, which in a way made Zoë dislike her even more, but eventually she gave up, and had formed her own relatively negative opinion of Zoë herself. Neither ever expressed their feelings aloud but each knew the other had a less than favorable opinion of the other and both had accepted that.
Gillian had continued to think before an expression flashed across her face and she seemed to come back to her herself. She began gathering up papers once more, though now she did so with a sigh and a tired expression. The expression that had briefly crossed Gillian's face was starting to really bother Zoë. She couldn't put her finger on the precise emotion it was but it looked very familiar (no, not contempt). Gillian had gathered everything up and headed out of the conference room.
Not wanting to be caught staring (eavesdropping being wholly inaccurate as nothing was actually said), Zoë resumed her walk to find Cal, knowing she was likely going to have to talk to Gillian now. She sighed inwardly and braced herself for the coming encounter. Gillian was readjusting the folders she was carrying and hadn't seen her yet but as Zoë got closer she heard her footsteps and glanced up.
Upon seeing who it was, Gillian stiffened and straightened. The two met in the middle and shook hands. "Hello, Zoë," Gillian said, her face now still and no doubt analyzing Zoë for some hint as to the reason for her visit. She offered a half-hearted, tired smile.
"Gillian," Zoë responded with a nod. Hm, now that Gillian knew she wasn't alone she wasn't as unguarded with her distress. It was still there; though Zoë suspected if she hadn't noticed before she might not see it now. Her exhaustion was still there as well, but she probably wasn't trying to hide it as much as whatever it was that was upsetting her. "Is Cal in? I need to speak with him."
At the mention of Cal's name, the same inexplicable expression crossed her face. It happened so fast Zoë was sure she only saw it because she was looking for it. She was beginning to grow concerned against her will. After all, she justified to herself, Gillian affects Cal and both of them (unfortunately) affect Emily.
"Yes, he should be in his office," Gillian informed Zoë and they both set off for it. A silence stretched between them that was only broken by the sound of their heels clicking on the linoleum floor. Normally Gillian would attempt at some kind of conversation—perhaps ask about her new firm or Emily—but she made no move to do so today. She seemed once again lost in thought, her body almost on autopilot. Gillian simply wasn't acting like Gillian. Something serious must be wrong for her to be so off her game. Hopefully Cal would have some answers for her and she could stop thinking about it.
Once they reached Cal's office door, Gillian seemed to shake herself out of her thoughts. Gillian knocked lightly on the door, waited a second before opening it without waiting for an answer, as she always did.
Cal sat at his desk, feet up and computer in his lap, typing away. "Finally getting started on that book?" Gillian asked with a smile, though it was obvious she was relieved he was working on it. Zoë was surprised at the change in Gillian. She seemed to be acting just as she always had. Perhaps the bags under her eyes still hinted at some exhaustion, but other than that it was like she was an entirely different person – from how she was with Zoë and definitely from when she had been alone in the conference room.
"Of course, darlin'. You know I'm a right hard worker. Never waste a moment, do I?" he replied wryly, not looking up from his computer yet. Gillian smiled automatically in response to his ironic comment.
His statement, though, was so absurd that Zoë couldn't help but snort in disbelief. Cal's head whipped up at the sound, instantly knowing who it was. "Hello, Cal" she responded with a smirk.
"Zoë," he drawled, "To what do I owe this pleasure?" While he maintained his usual manner, both women could tell he was intently focused on Zoë.
"Aren't you happy to see me?" she asked, not necessarily feigning hurt but adopting a mocking tone nevertheless.
"Of course I am, love," Cal replied; his feet fell to the ground now and he put his computer on top of his desk. "It's just been my experience that you don't come around her for no reason, with your busy important life and all that."
She rolled her eyes before continuing seriously, "We need to talk."
"Well, if that isn't my favorite thing to hear from a woman, especially my ex-wife," Cal commented, staring her down.
Gillian decided to interject. "I'll give you two your privacy then," she said. She was looking Zoë over – as if trying to decide just how big of a mess she was going to make of Cal. She turned towards Cal and walked to his desk. "Here are the files and my notes on the Heindium case." She placed the folders down on the desk. Cal met her eyes and a silent conversation seemed to take place.
Gillian let her worry show: Zoë always seemed to shake things up (mess things up, really). Cal nodded slightly, communicating he knew and would try not to get caught up in her per usual. He also communicated that he thought she was worrying unnecessarily. She let him know she knew he thought so but that that wasn't going to stop her. She straightened. "Make sure you look these over."
"I will," he assured her, smirking vaguely once again.
"Today, Cal," she replied sternly, ignoring his earlier statement.
"Yeah, yeah," he answered and turned his gaze back to Zoë.
Gillian turned around to leave and when she did Zoë could have sworn that same expression from before flitted over her face once more. Zoë glanced at Cal and could see that, if she wasn't imagining the bizarre expression, it had happened after Gillian turned and therefore he hadn't seen it.
Gillian nodded at Zoë as she went to leave and Zoë nodded in response. Gillian opened the door and left, closing the door firmly behind her.
As they finished up with a surprisingly overall successful discussion, Zoë's thoughts unwilling returned to Gillian's strange behavior. She was beginning to get the sinking feeling that Cal had no idea that anything was going on (beyond that she was tired perhaps), which was unusually alarming and brought a whole new set of questions to mind.
Whatever was bothering Gillian was obviously serious. Therefore, the fact that Cal didn't know made no sense. Firstly, because he was a know-it-all, human lie-detector and a pretty intrusive one at that. Cal could almost always spot a liar (or someone with a secret for that matter) and Gillian tended not to be a very good one. But that directly contradicted what she had just witnessed – Gillian seamlessly acting as though everything was normal. Which caused another question to spring to mind. Why is Gillian hiding this from Cal? The only reason she could really think of would be that Cal was at the center of (which is to say) the problem.
Then something just clicked and she knew what the expression that had crossed Gillian's face was.
"Oi, what was that?" a voice ripped her out of her thoughts. Most of what she had been thinking about had been at the back of her mind but her realization must have shown on her face. Cal had immediately noticed the sudden change and he was now staring intensely at her, his eyes x-raying her for some hint as to what she was thinking.
Zoë hesitated: what should she say? "Nothing, just realized something."
He frowned and narrowed his eyes, "That wasn't nothin'."
She scowled at him, thinks he knows everything – well now she knew something he didn't. "It's nothing really to me, but it probably matters to you." He took in the change in her attitude and saw the truth in her words. "I don't know what you did, but you had better fix it."
"Fix what? What the bloody hell are you goin' on about?"
"You're losing her and you don't even know it. No –" she answered his unasked question, "not Emily – Gillian." Because that expression on her face, the one Zoë couldn't place at first, was pure agony.
It was like she was being burned alive. And it was more than that somehow, as if it was her choice. No, she didn't ask for it or choose it or want it. But he had asked and she would do just about anything for him. He had told her to trust him and she had and now here she was – tied to a stake, a blaze. She'd been doomed since they became partners if she wanted to be truly honest with herself, but it had never gone this far, never quite as in the flames as she now was. Over the years he's walked her closer and closer. She knew where this had been heading. Maybe in the beginning she had tried to tell herself, believed that it wouldn't happen, but she had long given up upon that thought and resigned herself to her fate.
They'd gotten close to this before: a match lit in his hands, it had even been dropped in the past and the fire started but he had always realized what he was doing or changed his mind – causing him to act and she'd been saved. While she came to accept the fact that he would either save her completely (the possibility of what could be hung in the air, all around them, constantly) or be the end of her (totally, completely, utterly). But she always thought in the end, because it's always been much more likely that he would destroy her, that it would be relatively quick – not this slow drawn out burning alive. Although in retrospect, she should have know better, after all – he never followed others expectations, forever the unpredictable.
She knew, in the back of her mind, that he didn't know what he was doing because deep down – even if nothing happened (with them and their impossible future together) – he was still her best friend and she his (his best friend, his partner, his Leo). But somehow it didn't count – it would be worse if she had to speak up about what he was doing to her. (Sometimes you put up walls – not to keep others out, but to see who cares enough to break them down.) So her hands were clasped over her mouth, lest she speak of her distress. The other problem was that she couldn't help acting normally around him and while it is a lie, a big one (largest of her life) – well, as she's mentioned before – it depends on the lie. However, she knows she's coming apart at the seams. It's only a matter of time before someone notices this. She wonders, almost detachedly (because how else do you deal with being burned alive other than to float away?), what would happen when someone inevitably noticed (that she was imploding, crumbling, collapsing in on herself)?
If she tells him, makes him aware of what he's doing, then he's failed, and therefore they've failed. And she'd rather stay here, burning, than obliterate the possibility of them (as friends, partners or more). She still held out hope that he might open his eyes because, even though he has them shut tightly now, isn't she the one who acknowledged his unpredictability? If she was finally confronted about it by someone who wasn't him, because if anyone else noticed before him they would most likely come to her first and she would tell them in no uncertain terms that she was fine (she's always fine, fine, fine) and that it was nothing (she's just tired, nothing else, nothing left), she would have to let go of him, forever. What else could she do? If he couldn't see her disintegrating then she didn't really know how she could be around him (see him, talk to him, be near him). Every. Single. Day. She would have to leave (go, quit, disappear, never to return) and she knew that would destroy her just as much, just as thoroughly, as this slow, constant, burning at the stake.
This situation made her think of a piñata in many ways as well. He's the little kid blindfolded, spun around with a heavy bat. The first few swings miss – lulling her into a false sense of security – but eventually one hits – perhaps it's merely a glancing blow but it is enough to foreshadow things to come. After the first solid hit she is able to see where this is going and how it will end and there's nothing she can do until it's over but hang and spill out. Before, there were spectators at least (Alec, Zoë) and he was still just practicing but now they're gone and she should have known that's when the harder(est) hits would come. And n one else is really left because, let's face it, he's never had many friends and she's too focused and guarded and consumed to have many either. Ria and Loker are there (everyday, studying, learning, watching) but they're just children – separated from them, the employers, by the velvet rope (business etiquette) and blinded by the light (of their own lives, futures, problems). And she could never forget Emily, but she was a child too, in an entirely different way. She's too close, too interwoven, too naïve, with the situation to see the possibility for total ruin. So she cheers them on – only thinking of the candy.
And there's another reason her hands are so tightly clasped over her mouth – to prevent herself from screaming. Not of pain or for help but out of anger, out of frustration, out of indignation. How? How did it get to this? How could he do this to her? How could he leave her in the dark and show no remorse, feel justified. Act as if he understood her frustration because he missed out on a "dinner". To try and compliment her as he trampled her faith in him. How dare he ask if they were okay? And then just leave! And everything with Wallowski. He had her lie for that woman. He knows how she hates lying and especially since she personally didn't think Wallowski should get away with letting her partner go rogue. People died and she could have prevented it instead of turning a blind eye to it all. Claiming it was all because of loyalty though – that's what really hurts.
She wants to scream and cry and hit and laugh at the absurdity of it all and yell some more. Or at least she did. Now she's just tired, exhausted really. Which is partly why she's stopped – stopped trying, stopped fighting – just standing there as he lights the fire and the flames consume her. She stays the same, acts as always, but everything has changed. Now is the time; the time that will make them or break them, because it really is them – this will kill him in the end just as much as it will her – that she knows for certain.
They're so interconnected now, so intertwined – they had been for years. But now – they are intertwined alone – no spouses, few friends. Only Emily is truly influential, but she can't truly affect anything without them influencing her (a loop, endless, inescapable). A ring of dominoes, and now, if one falls they're all coming down. Everything is riding on them and she's decided to leave it up to him. She needs him to get off his ass and just do something.
It really is good that she's tied to this stake because the way it is now is dangerous. She wants to do something – like tear out her hair or maybe his. She wants to rub his face in what he's done (what he's doing) to her.
Because, ultimately, he has betrayed her. All of her trust, hope, happiness rides on him (for the most part). She has no family, no spouse, no children, few friends. All she has is him, Emily, perhaps Ria and Loker, and this company (their company). But even that is failing (sinking, drowning). And he doesn't seem to care about that either. She's trying (everything, anything) to fix the company (to stop, to prevent, the seemingly inevitable fall) and save it, them, from bankruptcy. And as she thinks about it, she can't help but think of the push that got them here. Cal buying out all of Zoë's stock. And she knows it was the right thing to do, because Cal needs Emily but a part of her wishes she could blame him or perhaps Zoë (for threatening to take Emily away (which she knew would have killed him)). No more FBI either, especially not with Ben's accident because who was he following when he got hurt? (three guesses: Cal, Cal, and Cal)
But back to betrayal. She is his partner (in work, friendship, life). Recently, though, she hasn't been except on paper (in theory, and to herself of course). He makes the most noise, he's the expert (his name is on the sign in the big letters) therefore he must be the sole leader (boss, owner, totally in charge). She's a woman; quieter, subtle, reasonable and therefore she must be second in command (valuable but ultimately not important enough to be equal). In the past she's always been more of "the power behind the throne" kind of a person. He would charge into battle ( a bad situation), make proclamations (wild accusations) and give commands (orders). She would make sure he was going the right way and make sure he had a clear path (before he could bully his way through, stepping on toes left and right). She would explain, make justifications, give support for what he would shout. She was the one who would convince others to do what he told them (explain, convince, cajole). He would make the mess and she would straighten it up.
In the beginning it bothered her when people assumed she wasn't as important. That's why both of them insisted upon introducing her as Dr. Foster. However, over the years, it has come to bother her less and less. People always came to realize she was good at what she did and respected her – besides she was much nicer and more reachable than Cal (people preferred to deal with her, if only to get to him). While she still has to reassert herself as his partner, as long as he knows, their employees know and she is treated as an equal, she found she really didn't mind too much. In fact, she almost began to like how people would underestimate her – the look on their faces when she surprised them, by demonstrating how good she really was, was immensely satisfying.
But now, he stopped introducing her all together – leaving it up to her to introduce herself. He rarely consulted with her, didn't listen to her as much as he used to or she deserved. The worst part was that he stopped treating her like a partner. She could handle herself – introduce herself, prove herself – with strangers, clients. The problem had always been that people failed to believe she was a partner but they always treated her as such once informed (even if they didn't fully believe it yet). Now he didn't treat her like a partner and therefore others were less inclined to as well. And while that aggravated her, it upset her far more that he himself had stopped acting like they were equals. Recently, it had been leaning towards that but it wasn't until she froze the bank account that he came right out and said it ("if you mess with my finances again, you and I are through").
That was a major nail in the coffin. To act like she didn't have as much invested in their company as he did ("the Lightman Group was built on my sweat, I don't see anyone else's name on the door"). Like the Lightman Group wasn't built on just as much of her sweat, like she didn't try as hard as he did for their company to succeed. It may have been his idea, his name on the door but she is an equal to him in all other ways, all other sacrifices. As if he let her work for him. As if he would be anywhere without her, and her hard work, her time, her effort. As if he could just send her away. He seems to have forgotten that even if he "fired" her, she would simply come back. She would not leave just because he thought he could order her away, just because she had displeased him, just because he wanted to make a point. And while this has all left her outraged and upset and hurt (burned), she's not leaving quite yet, even though she knows most sane people would. But how long has it been since she acted like most people? (how long has it been since she was sane?)
Part of the reason she will stay is because she knows the others need her here. Ria, Loker, the new grad students, the secretaries, the clients – they all need her to keep Cal in check or at least to fix his messes. Because without her, every person here would quiet – sooner or later they would all leave. Sooner or later there would be no more clients. And it's not even that she can tell him to stop, because she can't—that's been rather obvious as of late. He's stopped listening (somehow even less that he used). It's because she is patient, she can read between the lines of what he says, does. She calms down the client after he jumps down their throat. She reassures the employee that they're doing a good job. She takes care of the business aspect of the company as best she can. They need her and all she wanted in return (because she truly was happy to do it all) was some appreciation, some acknowledgement, some respect.
He used to; it hadn't always been this bad. In the beginning he had been grateful, almost surprisingly so. He had even said it aloud on rare occasions. But then he began to grow complacent – expecting her to fix things, taking her for granted. Very recently, though, he had stopped acknowledging her all together (saying it, showing it). He had always shown that he was grateful in some small way, the only way he knew how (with his words, his face, his eyes, his tone) and while it had been shrinking, it had still been there. But now… it wasn't. The slightest hit was gone (absent, disappeared, vanished).
And even having admitted this to herself, she still can't bring herself to leave. One major reason (the only reason, really) for this is that she knows (the same way she knows that the sun will rise, and water is wet, she knows him) that there has to be something (even if its small, tiny, miniscule) that has set him off – made his so much worse as of late because no one turns into that much of a complete jackass (especially to her) over night. She suspects it has something to do with Emily, because what else could cause this sort of a reaction from him. And she's always known one of her fatal flaws is always (constantly, unceasingly) trying to understand (her peers, people in general, and most importantly: him). Because she always wants to know why. It's half of the reason she became a psychologist. She's been asking why for years now, and she can't find it in herself to stop. That's one reason Cal's whole concept appealed to her – it would help her figure out the why behind people's actions, feelings, behaviors.
The other half of the reason would be that she wanted to help people. Once she learned the why she wanted to apply it, use it, to make people happier, their lives easier. And that half won't let her leave either. It compels her to stay and help him, Emily, Ria, Loker, their clients. She feels as if it's her duty to stay because she is needed. And she's always (liked, loved, craved) needed to be needed.
She can't let go of that. Not now, not after all the time, energy, emotion invested in these people, this work – him. This is her life – without it: she is nothing. How foolish? How pathetic is that? And to invest all this, to build her life around such an unstable, volatile pillar. It's crazy! (madness, insane and very unhealthy).
Part of herself is disgusted with her own behavior. For trying to justify his actions (or rather inaction), for already having forgiven him. Weak, it says. And she knows in some ways it is but she can't bring herself to care enough because of how much of her cares for him, the part that desperately wants to be happy. That part says she is willing to stay for the long haul and that she isn't weak – she's strong for the very same reasons (running away, throwing away everything because she was hurt). For knowing grudges are petty and useless and will only make her miserable and leave her alone. But it's been so long, the waves have continuously been crashing into her and she knows she'll only be able to stand so much more before she's pulled under and swept away. Then her body will wash up on the shore and he'll find her and he'll regret everything but it won't matter because it will be too late.
He needs to act now, move, shout, do anything that signifies that he knows, that he senses that something is wrong with her and have just one tiny part of him whisper it's his fault. Once that happens she knows they'll be back on the right path, that there is more than this false, empty hope she's currently living off of. If he would only open his eyes. Is that really so much to ask for?
Gillian sighed and leaned back in her desk chair, eyes closed. She took a breath, as if preparing to go under water, opened her eyes and shook her head – as if trying to shake off such thoughts. Now was not the time – later, in her empty apartment, preferably with a glass of wine and some dark chocolate.
She was so tunnel-visioned on her work, so distracted by her thoughts, that she missed Cal peering in through a glass panel into her office. He only caught those last few seconds before she went back to work and her expression stopped being helpful. He quietly slipped away – back to his now empty office – Zoë having left a few minutes ago after making that remark about Gillian.
Cal stared at Zoë uncomprehendingly, mouth slightly agape. Zoë would have found it quite amusing if this wasn't a serious situation. Then he did what he always did when he was confused or upset: he got angry. She could see it on his face as he glared at her (in fact, she was pretty sure a blind person could sense the change in his demeanor). "And why do you think you could possibly know something about her that I wouldn't see? You two pals now?"
Zoë stared him down coldly, yup – there he goes – angry, insulting and arrogant all at once. Typical Cal Lightman. She shrugged, "Oh, I don't know, all mighty infallible one," she mocked, pretending to think, "Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she only acts normally around you or maybe changed blindness or maybe you're just too close to her to see what's really going on."
She watched him struggle to refute her retorts and smirked with triumph when she saw he couldn't. He glared even more harshly at her, "Gillian and I are just fine. We're okay." But once he said it, she could see the doubt forming in his eyes.
"Really?" she raised her eyebrows, "She said so? Hm, then I must be wrong because I'm sure you couldn't have done anything recently that might have upset her in any, teeny, tiny way."
She saw something in his eyes that seemed to prove her theory correct as his face hardened, his mouth forming into a frown – no longer glare, merely boring into her as if trying to figure out what she knew. "Look Cal, I don't know what you did, and frankly I don't particularly care, but if you want her to stay or ever forgive you, you need to fix it, and fast."
He made as if to respond when her phone went off. "Oh, sorry, Cal – I have to go. It's been a blast – as usual. Bye." And with a wave, she left – leaving him as if she had dropped a bomb on his head (which she had, in a manner of speaking).
As soon as Cal gathered enough of his thoughts, he decided to march down to Gillian's office – just to prove Zoë wrong of course. But when he got there… The opposite was evident. Her expression was still guarded, and blank do to the fact that she was lost in thought but it was obvious she wasn't herself. She looked much more worn down than he had ever seen her – similar to when she had been in the middle of her divorce. And when she came back to herself, there was a flash of…of desperation, of hopelessness….that crossed her face. And that sent a sharp jab of pain shooting right through him.
As he walked back to his office he began getting lost in his own thoughts. Zoë was clearly right (something he disliked admitting – even to himself) and he was distressed that she had been the one to see it first. How could he have not noticed? Cal sighed. He suspected it had to do with many, if not all of the reasons she had mentioned. Perhaps, he had gotten so used to ignoring things per their rules, because in ignoring everything with Alec he had started ignoring the effect on Gill because it was too painful to watch what it was doing to her. Even though in some part of his mind he knew the line had all but dissolved along with both of their marriages. And recently, with everything that had been going on with Emily he had sought to get lost in his own world, selfishly so, as always. Forgetting the collateral damage involved. And was that really what she was? Collateral damage? Of course not, she was…Gillian Foster, his Gill. And could he really have missed hurting her like that himself? He was getting the sinking feeling that the answer was yes. The question that remained was: what was he going to do now?
A/N: Well, there you go. This is the first story I've written like this, and with so much emotion, so tell me what you think. I can take constructive criticism but I put a lot of energy into it and I'd rather not be flamed. I have very briefly considered the idea of continuing it with another chapter but that is one hundred per cent a maybe. Perhaps if people show interest...? Even then it might take a while to write regardless. -shrugs- Just thought I'd through that out there. But the piece could stand alone nevertheless. That's all for now. Thanks for reading! :)