This is an alternate take on the episode, Honey. Yup, feelin' a bit angsty this evening. But I think the ending will be quite satisfying for you Callians out there…

Disclaimer: I do not own Lie to Me. That belongs in the realm of FOX, may the gods bless'em.

When the Truth Comes Out

The day started out like any other day. Well, considering that Cal Lightman was running stupid crap jobs because his business was desperate for money. That had been his own damn fault, sure, but still…cheating spouses cases? It was a complete joke.

At least he had something nice to look at while on the job…

"So, if we were in a hotel room, and you could only order one thing from room service, would it be chocolate cake, strawberries, or warm honey?"

"…I beg your pardon?"

Indeed, that had been a bit of fun for Cal. That was one of his favorite questions to ask beautiful potentials. Sadly, his toying had been interrupted by a mobile call from Foster, informing him of Eric Matheson, murder suspect. He played it off like he didn't care too much about it, not that he could go into detail with his client's ex-wife sitting next to him at the bar. However, he was genuinely interested in the case, because it would surely be more detailed and interesting than interviewing spouses.

Half an hour later, Lightman was speeding back to The Lightman Group, desperate to end this joke of a case and move on to something with more promise.

"Hey, how did it go?" Heidi asked him as he stormed in.

"Put me out of my misery."

And his seemingly normal day just continued to roll downhill from that point. Moments later, Lightman was arguing with Foster over the company. In fact, he was seconds away from pulling the plug all together and following through with his threat of going back to running his business from his kitchen. Things had been a lot easier then.

In some ways, at least.

It had just been him and Foster in the beginning. Originally, they weren't official partners running an official government funded business…just two friends from college searching for the truth together. Cal could do whatever he wanted and however he wanted back in those days. It had been Foster who encouraged him to go bigger with his talent. He had been glad to have her by his side all this time as they built up the company over the years.

But at that particular moment, he hated her. How dare she question what he was doing? He had to take drastic measures to keep his daughter there with him, and there stood Foster, telling him it was the wrong thing to do? Yes, at that very moment, he was about ready to just drop-kick her across the foyer…where a man was stumbling in with a gun, shouting something about not killing his wife.

Matheson. Brilliant.

Emotions are an incredible thing. Because one second, he was arguing with his colleague, Foster, and the next second, he found himself protecting Gillian, the woman he loved. He was ready to give his life for her at that very moment, if it meant keeping her safe.

So much for a normal day.

When things start to go downhill, they go fast. By the end of the day, Cal Lightman found himself being held at gunpoint by a madman in his own lab. He and the team and been working vigilantly to solve Matheson's case. The team had been doing it for Cal's sake, and he had been doing it for theirs. If something were to go wrong, what's to say that Matheson wouldn't go crazy and take more hostages along with him…or worse? Cal couldn't stand the idea of something happening to anyone else if he could put a stop to it by solving the case.

That, and his twisted need to always get to the truth was nagging at him as well.

It tore Lightman apart to see Gillian Foster shedding tears in front of him as she begged for Matheson to let him go. All he wanted to do was to take her into his arms, even if it was just for a second, and tell her that everything was going to work out just fine. That he wouldn't let anything happen to her and that she would be safe, even if it meant surrendering his own safety. Just to have that moment of embrace would mean the world to him.

But instead, the only thing Cal could feel was the constant tugging on his shirt collar and the cold metal of the gun pressing in on the back of his neck. He winced as he heard the cocking of the gun and watched Gillian jump a bit. However, Cal warned her, "Foster," and gave a stern look.

Foster. That was the name he used when he wanted to distance himself from her. Which, he didn't, but he had to in this situation. To get her to go away. To keep her safe.

That should have been that. The case was over. Solved and complete. Mike Zancanelli was their man, the killer of this psychopath's wife. But of course, Matheson had to take it one step further. "…and I want five minutes alone with him."

"I can't let that happen."

The blow came quick and unexpected to the left side of his forehead. Cal didn't even know what had happened until he was rolling around on the ground. He could feel the blood beginning to trickle from his forehead. He touched his hand to head and looked fiercely at Matheson. Dazed, he stood to face his attacker. Things were about to get ugly.

"It's either him or you," Matheson warned, "I mean it."

Cal nodded. Yes, he understood quite clearly. But it still didn't solve his dilemma. Zancanelli was a killer, but Cal Lightman was not about to give him a death sentence just to save his own skin. Not if there was something he could do about it.

Matheson was beginning to lose it. He roughly dragged Lightman into the other room, sending chairs flying. Cal tried to reason with him, tried to get to him by talking about his wife. What she would want, to not throw his life away by killing Zancanelli…or him, for that matter. The more Lightman pressed, the angrier Matheson became. He could hear it in his screams as he glared to the security camera above, yelling at his team, who was surely watching from across the hall.

And then he snapped.

It had all happened so fast, Lightman didn't even know it was coming. Sure, he had gone from crazy to ballistic in a matter of seconds, but he didn't think…

Well, it was too late for thinking now. The gun fired and all Cal could think about was the pain that was coursing through his body. He gasped and let out a cry. The shot hit him somewhere in his lower right abdomen, he wasn't quite sure where. The pain and flared up so quickly, and there was so much blood, he couldn't pin an exact location. For a second, he just stared at his side as he sat awkwardly in the chair.

Finally, he decided to try and do something intelligent rather than stare and moved his hand to the wound to try and slow the bleeding. He began to gasp as he felt his warm blood ooze through his fingers, knowing very quite well how screwed he was. Matheson was still screaming at the camera, waving his gun madly around, but Cal wasn't paying attention to him anymore. He couldn't even if he wanted to, as his world was slowly drifting away.

Cal's limbs were becoming weak as he lost strength. He tried desperately to keep pressure on the wound, but his hand just kept slipping away. After a moment, he didn't even have the balance to keep himself on the chair and felt himself limply roll onto the ground, landing on his side. He let out a low groan as he did, and watched his blood slowly crawl across the white floor.

White. Why white? Everything here is white…I hate white…

His thoughts were drifting. All he could do was concentrate on breathing and, most importantly, not dying. His hand, which was shaking, slowly crept back to his side. It was the only thing he could think of to do to help his situation. Slow the bleeding, and stop getting blood all over the white floor. As he tried to put a bit of pressure on his side, it made him cry out a bit, and he clenched his eyes shut, panting, trying to control the pain.

Commotion. Shouting. Gun shots. Two…then three of them. Each gun fire he heard made Cal wince just a little, partly because he thought he was going to get shot again, partly because he was worried of who else might possibly be getting shot. Breathe, he reminded himself, breathe. He wanted to know what was going on, but the only thing his mind would think about was the pain and the blood on the white floor…white, why white? Why am I thinking about that? I'm bloody dying here…

Cal continued to stare at the blood on the floor when he saw something beyond the blood that caught his attention. A pair of stylish heels, frantically running towards him. He tried to focus on them, or rather, the person attached to said heels, but his eyes wouldn't move from the blood. Someone was saying his name from a distance…it took him a moment to realize that the voice was actually right above him. He felt himself being turned onto his back, making him groan considerably. He clenched his eyes shut yet again, trying not to scream out in utter shock and pain.

"Lightman…Cal!"

Something was moving his hand from his wound. He moaned and limply moved his hand back, tried to tell them that he had to keep it there, to stop the bleeding, to stop the crimson from staining that damned white floor, to keep him from bloody dying. But they kept moving his hand away.

"Cal…Cal, it's alright, I've got you. Open your eyes for me."

With extreme effort, he did so, and was immediately put at ease, even though he was pretty sure he was on the verge of death.

For above him, in the midst of the blurred madness around the rest of the room, Cal Lightman was staring into the face of an angel. "'Ello, luv," he croaked, twitching his lip in an attempted smile. And with that, his world slid into darkness.

It had all happened so fast for Gillian Foster.

One second she was arguing with Cal, the next, he had traded himself for Torres and being held at gunpoint.

She had spent the entire day searching for answers to save his life. She had hoped so much that Tom McHenry had been guilty…just so that she could get Cal out of that room with Matheson sooner.

Gillian's heart had stopped every time she saw the surveillance screen…every time Matheson got angry and shoved that gun into Cal's head.

She had lost her breath for a moment and she watched him strike Cal across the forehead, sending him to the ground in a blur of black.

They were desperate to get him out. She would have shoved Zancanelli in that room with him in a heartbeat if it meant saving Cal's life. Saving the love of her life.

She had turned away from the computer for a second, just a second, to argue with Reynolds over what to do next. And when she turned away for that precious second, she heard the noise she had been dreading to hear all day long.

The horrifying sound of a gunshot…followed by a cry of pain coming from a familiar source.

Gillian whipped her head around to look at the screen in terror, confirming her fear. There was Matheson, still screaming and waving his gun around. And there in the lower part of the screen was Cal, clutching his side and gasping.

Everything then had happened so fast. Reynolds pulled his gun from the back of his pants and went running across the hall to the lab, ordering Loker to call for backup. Gillian felt her knees go weak and she wanted to sit down. But she didn't.

Instead, she found herself running behind Reynolds, holding back tears.

She could see Cal from the lab door. He was in the other room, just barely holding himself up on the chair he had been thrown onto by that monster. As Reynolds and Matheson shouted at each other, pointing guns and whatnot, all Gillian could do was stare at Lightman. He slid off the chair, out of her sight for a moment.

"Gillian! Get your fucking head down!" Reynolds yelled.

She looked away from the room. Matheson had his gun pointing somewhere between her and Reynolds. She ducked behind a desk as a shot rang out, followed by a fire from Reynolds. The first one missed.

The second one didn't. And Matheson went down moaning.

So much violence. Gillian hadn't quite mentally prepared herself for all of this. She stayed crouched by the desk in shock for a moment, having never had a gun fired at her before. Reynolds, who stood with his gun still firmly pointed at Matheson, was breathing heavily and looked aside to her. "You ok?"

A second passed. Then a few more. She nodded and rose to her feet. The path was clear to Cal. And she started running again. "Reynolds, get an ambulance here now."

"Already on their way."

"Cal?" she called, hoping he'd respond.

Her stomach lurched at the sight of him. He was on his side, moaning in agony, quietly, clutching his bleeding abdomen. The amount of blood that had pooled around him was sickening. "Oh God," Gillian whispered as she ran to his side.

Gently as she could, she rolled him onto his back, causing the Englishman to cry out for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut. She had to keep herself in check. "Lightman," she said softly to him, trying not to cause any more alarm than he needed. He didn't reply, just kept his eyes shut tight, his face contorted with pain. "…Cal!" C'mon…

Gillian looked down at the wound and saw that his hand, which was shaking madly, was covering it. She took it and moved it to the side so that she could apply better pressure, since he was looking too weak to do so himself.

"No," he slurred, "…no I gotta…keep it there." He floppily moved his hand back, but Gillian pushed it aside again as he kept muttering incoherently.

"Cal…Cal, it's alright, I've got you," she said firmly, but her voice breaking slightly. "Open your eyes for me."

It took a bit of effort, but he did. Cal stared up at her, rather goofily. She was relieved to see his hazel eyes looking up into her own. For a moment, they were fear stricken, but as soon as his sluggish eyes focused on hers, he began to look at peace. "'Ello, luv," he whispered.

To hear those words come out of his mouth made Gillian smile, just for a second. She was about to say something to him, but his eyes started to roll back. "No, Cal, come on, hang in there with me," she begged. "Cal?" But his head lolled to the side, eyes closed. "Cal!"

Footsteps behind her. "Shit," Reynolds muttered. He was on his cell phone. "Gill, they're almost here, I'll go flag them down."

She barely even noticed. She watched his chest, as it slowly rose and fell. He was just unconscious. But that still didn't make her feel any better. Why didn't she say something? Why didn't she tell him that she loved him? Why…

Torres came in after Reynolds had left, first aid kit in hand. She always kept a good head on her shoulders, that girl did. "Foster, here," she said, out of breath. She whipped out a handful of gauze and handed them to Gillian, who took them quickly with blood stained, shaky hands, and pressed them onto Lightman's side, but Torres gently scooted in next to her, holding the pads onto him for Gillian. "I've got it, Foster."

She didn't even realize she had been crying so hard until Torres stepped in. All she could do was think about the 'what-ifs' and stare at him until the paramedics finally rushed in and began to move him onto a stretcher.

And then he was out of sight.

Several hours later, Ben had given Gillian a lift home to get cleaned up real quick, then took her to the hospital. Along the way, she made a phone call to Zoe, who was out of state as usual, but she filled her in anyway. She would be on the next flight back to D.C. Torres had offered to go to Emily's school to pick her up and meet Foster and Reynolds at the hospital. Loker stayed behind to deal with the police and the absolute mayhem that was at The Lightman Group.

And now, Gillian Foster sat in the ICU next to Cal Lightman's bed, holding his hand as he slept. He had been out of surgery for several hours, and it had gone well, for the most part. There were some complications during the operation, but he was nearly out of the woods. She looked him over, bandage on his head, bruises on his neck from the constant pressure of a gun, and stitches and more bandages underneath the sheets and hospital gown. It tore her heart apart seeing him like this, but she was glad to be there.

Emily was on the other side of his bed, arms folded up next to his legs and head resting on them, in a light slumber. Gillian smiled as she watched the two Lightmans sleep. It had been a long day. And far from a normal one at that. In fact…she glanced at her watch. It was the next day, early morning.

She looked down at the hand that she held and stroked the top of it with her thumb and heaved a sigh. "You idiot," she murmured, "always having to be the big shot." She smiled, speaking just barely above a whisper. "But I guess that's why I love you, Cal Lightman. Don't you ever do anything like this again. I don't know what I would have done if I had lost you."

Gillian shook her head. She knew very well that he couldn't hear her, being unconscious. But why was it that the truth always came out in situations like this? Why couldn't she just say it to his face, that she loved him with her whole heart? Because she did. Maybe she just wasn't ready to take that next step. Maybe she was scared that he didn't feel the same way. She knew that he cared for her deeply as a friend, but perhaps there was nothing more to that. She'd never know. Maybe she didn't want to know.

However, at that very moment, she wanted to say it out loud to him, even if he wouldn't actually hear it.

"I love you, Cal."

A tear rolled down her cheek and she smiled. And then she heard a chuckle from across the bed. "I knew it," said a sleepy, mischievous voice. Gillian gasped as Emily raised her head, grinning ear-to-ear.

"You're supposed to be sleeping like your dad."

Emily shrugged. "Eh. I'm a light sleeper. But I knew it!"

Gillian couldn't help but smile as she shook her head. "Don't you breathe a word to him, young lady," she warned in a joking tone. "You know…"

"Yeah, yeah, you guys are 'complicated'. I get it. Lips are sealed," Emily said rolling her eyes. "But I don't get why you two just get on with it already…" she trailed off as Gillian gave her a motherly sort of look. "…Oh fine. Whatever."

Gillian smiled again. "Are you hungry, Em? I don't think he's going to be awake for a while, why don't we go get a midnight snack. Some pudding, maybe…"

Emily nodded her head and got to her feet, casting a look at her dad. She bent down and kissed him on the cheek before bounding out of the room. Gillian waited until she was out of sight, then raised his hand to her lips to give it a tender kiss. She gently laid it down on his stomach, and gazed at his face for a moment, brushing a strand of hair away, then followed Emily out of the ICU.

…Cal waited until the sound of heels disappeared down the hall before he cracked his eyes open and gave a broad smile. "…love you too, Gill."

And so there's my first one-shot! Just wanted to twist up that episode a bit and make it mushy. Hoped you liked it. I had fun writing it. Maybe I'll do these more often...