So I was going through files and found this. Couldn't find anywhere that I'd ever posted it so decided to send it your way. I feel like this might be the beginning of something rather than the end. I've been wanting to do something Lie To Me for my ficaversary coming up in January and maybe this will help me dip my tow in the pool again. *shrugs* Anyway, if there is anyone out there still reading this, I'd love to hear what you think and if you think I should continue and make this into a longer smutty one shot or something. Right now it's basically an angsty drabble.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lie To Me. Does Anyone? No copyright infringement intended.


"No."

The lonely syllable is weak, even to her ears.

He's standing at her door.

In the middle of the night.

At her home.

Her Home.

And she can't.

Not tonight.

Because she's tired.

So fucking tired.

And she knows what's kept him awake tonight, whats brought him scratching at her door at 2am. Knows which demons are licking at his heels because they've nearly caught hers too and she's almost tired of running.

"No," she repeats, even in retreat, moving backwards involuntarily, not sure even in her own mind if she's fleeing or inviting.

"Do it." He presses her, balances on his tip-toes as her ass hits the wall, knows there is no place left where she can flee from him.

Not tonight.

"Cal." Her voice is a pitiful, aching thing.

"Lie to me, Gillian. Let me see it." And he's close. So close. The heat of him invades her, the smell of him fills her head, pushes out everything else.

"Please." Is she begging him to stop or begging him to keep going? Her senses won't let her decide.

His hand is at her throat, thumb stroking the pounding of her pulse and it's just tight enough, just edgy enough to make her squeeze her thighs together and want-need- to comply.

"I don't want this," she manages around the ache of desire lodged in her throat. And it's a half-lie. The lie she tells herself daily and she is so fucking good she almost believes it most of the time.

His eyes bore into hers, flicker to the curl of her lip, the twitch in her jaw, and she knows he can't tell, can't read her any more now with her blood pumping beneath his fingertips than he could standing in the middle of her office.

Because he's broken and she's broken and somehow together they're halfway fixed.


Oh, and if I HAVE posted this somewhere before, let me know that too!

Thanks for reading!

Kat