A/N:Never written a Lie to Me fic before but after reading several fanfiction stories, I decided to write one. This story basically takes place after "Hostage" (Episode 4/Season 2). This is when Cal shows up at Gillian's house, asking to stay the night in her spare bedroom. Enjoy.
He watches her; the way she sets her cup down and touches her temple. She's tired. She looks to the floor a little and stares at it as if it were the most interesting thing. Thinking.
"You think too much, luv," he says simply.
She turns and expresses a quiver of shock. "You're one to talk," she says with that contented smile.
He studies her expression a little more before nodding and leaning against the kitchen counter. "I've done that a lot today," he confesses and turns to grab a cup from one of the cupboards. He helps himself to the Whiskey and sips a little as he turns his eyes back to her.
"We all have," she replies, settling her hand at the edge of the kitchen counter. Her eyes gaze down for a little before looking back up at him. "Don't read me like that, Cal."
He chuckles and takes a sip of his drink again. "Can't help it."
She rolls her eyes and moves to the kitchen sink to place her empty mug. She washes it and stacks it on the drying rack. She turns to him and pauses to look at the cut on his forehead.
"At least let me put a band aid on that," she says, pointing to the cut on his forehead.
He makes a little disgruntled face and shakes his head. "Better to leave it," he says, "It's better for the healing process."
She hides a little smirk and looks at him. The silence falls lazily upon them and he doesn't really mind. That's how it's always been between them.
Silent gazes, silent words. They don't need words to fill the air around them. They just need this, here and now. This lazy silence between them.
"I'm glad..." she begins, motioning with her hand, "That you're okay."
He nods his head and sips the remaining whiskey from his cup. He places it in the sink and quickly rinses it before turning back to her.
"For a while, I was afraid," she said, her tone conceding defeat and utter helplessness.
He turns quickly to her, reading her expression as she loses herself in his gaze. "I know," he says soothingly. "I saw it in your eyes."
She shakes her head, breaking his gaze. She's showing shame as she continues, "I shouldn't... I was showing weakness."
"You're too hard on yourself, Gillian," he says, outstretching a hand to tip her chin up so he could look in her eyes. "I know you care, I'm just sorry I pushed it too far."
"It isn't you to give up on puzzles, Cal," she says simply, "I wouldn't have you any other way," she smiles a little, "even if it scares me."
He nods his head and looks to the floor. He knows he's showing shame, and of all people he should be the stronger one. But he ponders on her words as he replies, "I shouldn't. It wasn't really worth it."
"But we all made it out in one piece," she says and he looks up to her eyes again. "That's all that matters."
"Yeah," he says with a little smile. He suddenly remembers his fingertips are still at her chin so he lowers it and slides his hand at the side of her shoulder. "Thank you," he says, showing gratitude in his expressions.
"For what?" she asks, her expressions reflecting confusion and question.
"Caring," he says and pulls her close for a hug.
She laughs and tightens the hug. "You should always know that."
He pulls back a little and looks at her before saying, "Sometimes, I guess I need a little reminding."
She nods and shakes her head. "Oh... and what happened with that date of yours?" she asks.
He pauses for a little, not really knowing what to say. He thinks he probably should tell her the truth. Because it's what she said that made him come here.
"Cal?" she says, touching his arm.
He looks up and meets her gaze. "She's the reason why I'm here," he says simply, honestly.
"Oh..."
"She asked me what my ideal woman is," he explains, "and I told her that I could describe her until the cows come home but the true question is whether I'm the right man for her."
"And what did she say?"
He smiles a little smugly and leans against the kitchen counter. "She said, how would you know if you don't give it a go."
She doesn't say anything and he knows she's reading him; reading his emotions, his expressions. And for once in his life he isn't trying to hide it. He wants her to know the truth. He wants her to know that he's here because he wants to be.
"I left her sitting there," he says, breaking the silence again. He looks to the floor as he continues, "I said, I shouldn't be here."
"And then-"
He looks up and meets her gaze before saying, "I came here."
And he sees it. The look in her eyes, it's the one thing that makes him truly smile.
He sees happiness and truth in her eyes, and that's down right impossible because it's either happiness or truth. It can never be both.
Trust her to be both.
