A/N: This chapter is kind of shadow and light. You will understand what I mean when you read it. I re-wrote the last part a gazillion times and eventually decided that this is the final version. Therefore, I hope it doesn't disappoint and you enjoy it.
Rating due to language and content. Nothing explicit here (and why do I almost feel as if I have to apologize that there isn't...). Yet, there are some references to, um, physical Callian interaction; so, I guess it's a strong T or even a moderate M just to be on the safe side.
Thank you for your reviews. As usual, this also goes for the guest reviewers I can't thank via FFN or Twitter (silviaa29 & "guest"). I hope you all keep on reviewing and sharing your thoughts because I've really come to depend on it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Zip. If I did, LTM would be in its – what? fifth? – season by now.
In the end, it is neither the car nor the bed.
Cal convinces Gillian to drive to her place since they are halfway there, anyway. As tempting as it is to just continue... this in the car, it reminds Cal too much of meaningless encounters with other women and this is supposed to be different. So, her place is the place to be because Emily is back from Europe and there is no way Cal can imagine going past his daughter, taking Gillian to his bedroom. Not that Emily wouldn't appreciate it, but knowing that his daughter is next door or even in the same house would kind of kill the mood tonight.
Gillian has a heyday distracting him, touching and kissing and doing whatever has to be considered a dangerous interference of road safety, but she doesn't seem to care. It is him, Cal Lightman, the risk taker, who has to tell the woman who usually would have instructed him to concentrate on driving to buckle up. Twice. Still, she doesn't comply and he finally gives in and locks her safety belt in place while she is giggling and humming and smelling oh-so-good.
She almost appears to be drunk although he knows that the two glasses of wine she had earlier this evening are not nearly enough to cause such a behavior. No, she is not drunk; she is intoxicated by him, by them, and this, in turn, makes him shiver with excitement.
He should have known they wouldn't make it to the bed.
Whenever Cal imagined this happening, he imagined a slow dance of seduction, imagined her to be hesitating so that his hands had to convince her to give in, to let go. In reality, their roles are reversed. She is not uncertain or reluctant at all. There is only a brief moment of hesitation after she unlocked the door and they are standing in the dimness of her house. It is overwhelming how familiar and at the same time strange it all is. Cal knows her furnishings, knows the pleasant smell of her house. Yet, it is different and about to change even more.
"Are you sure of this?" she whispers and he almost has to laugh. Shouldn't he be the one asking her that?
All those years, all the tender hugs, the kisses on the cheek missing the lips only by millimeters. All those moments when they pretended they didn't want more. He always wanted more and still can't believe that she apparently felt the same, too. Maybe the entire time. All those years – wasted because two scientists were so busy exposing lies of others that they couldn't find the truth in themselves.
Is he sure of this? Bloody hell, yes!
Instead of an answer, he pulls her closer and kisses her.
The idea was to take the continuation of what they started in his car to her bed, and moreover, to take it slow. Turns out theory doesn't correspond to reality. The first surprise was that Gillian isn't reluctant; the second is that she doesn't take it slow.
Cal expects her to lead him to her bedroom, but she simply pushes him against the wall. Then she pulls his shirt up; her hands are on his skin and – again – she beat him touching-wise. Damn! Cal feels like an amateur. He is supposed to be the womanizer and seduce her not the other way around.
Their kissing is becoming more and more frenzied. They push and pull at their clothes until there is not much left that separates the heated skin of their bodies. He always knew she would look good in a silken thong and matching bra.
"Bed?" he manages to ask in between. That's the reason they drove here, right? Adequate space and lighting.
However, when she pushes her body against his and her lips find their way down his chest, caressing his skin, all thoughts are irrelevant. He is a scientist. There are moments in life, though, when thinking is clearly overrated. As is coherent speech.
Cal thought he knew Gillian inside out, but this night has some revelations to offer...
Dirty talk makes her laugh even if, in a moderate version, it seems to turn her on. All in all, though, she isn't the kind of woman who talks a lot during sex probably because she is so eloquent at work that she simply enjoys having not to talk sometimes.
The many ways she doesn't talk but shows him how much she enjoys this turn him on in a way he never would have thought possible. By the way, the assumption that he is a better lover because he can read micro expressions is utter bullshit. People who believe that never gave the logistics of making love a moment's thought. Granted, he uses his abilities to score with women. However, as soon as he is in bed with a woman, it's all about primal instinct and not about reading micro expressions – if only because often, and depending on the, let's say, variety of positions, it is nearly impossible to study the face. With Gillian, though, Cal considers to make an exception. If it wasn't so creepy, he would stare at her face whenever possible, just to catch this micro expression or that, just to see her eyes cloud with arousal, just to see her purse her lips when she teeters on the edge, just to know everything about her. He can't get close enough, not even when he is inside her.
She is a completely different person – here where it is only the two of them and their passion. Daring, almost reckless. Cal always suspected she has this hidden attribute because sometimes it shimmers through when she is angry, when someone provokes her, but she always brings it under control, puts her feelings on the back burner in favor of rational thinking and political correct behavior. Tonight, all this doesn't matter. She wants him and she isn't shy of it. Screw political correctness. Somewhere in between, Cal wonders whether she was like this with her ex-husband (somehow he doubts it) or with Burns (somehow he believes she was, at least to some extent, and the mere thought turns his stomach). She is still in control. At the same time, though, she lets control slip away so effortlessly as if she wasn't Ms. Perfection in real life. Cal knows that he will have a hard time looking at her at the office without completely losing it in the best possible way after he experienced this.
Gillian looks even better without the silken thong and matching bra although it is color-coordinated with her couch (when the wall becomes a little too uncomfortable, this is the next best item of furniture where they end up). It has to be a coincidence. She couldn't possibly have planned this all along, could she? Cal files the information away to perhaps ask her about it later or perhaps he doesn't want to know. Some moments are perfect as they are.
At long last and despite their fierce love-making, she also likes it soft and lets him seduce her. The second time. This is when he finally gets more space and lighting because they make it to her bedroom. They are not anywhere near dirty talk this time. Instead, her whispers and moans enwrap him like a warm blanket and he knows, just knows, that all their fears and their hesitation were justified. If they don't make this work, if this gets taken away from them again, it will destroy them both. In a heartbeat.
She wakes up before him and remembers everything immediately. It's been a while since she has woken up with this sore, yet wonderful, feeling between her legs and a man lying next to her. And this is not any man. This is Cal. Gillian's pulse quickens. She regrets nothing, but the harsh morning light tends to put things into perspective.
They both enjoyed last night. Very much. But already she can almost hear her thoughts racing. How will this affect our partnership? Our friendship? How can we make it work?
She had her doubts whether he really wanted her, but he erased them all last night. Cal wants her. The mere thought makes her shiver. Yet, Cal is... Cal and the nagging question remains whether she will be enough – interesting enough, exciting enough. She will be here and now and for sure in the next weeks or even months but what about the next years? If this is only about their mutual physical attraction, it will fade away eventually or at least decrease. She holds her breath realizing that she is thinking of spending the rest of her life with him. Then again, it doesn't come as a surprise. This has always been what it all comes back to. Spending their lives together. Isn't that what they have been doing for the last eight years?
It's Saturday; they don't have to work and this is such a relief. She can't even begin to imagine the awkwardness of having to get dressed in a hurry and driving to the office. Let alone being there together, pretending nothing happened. They would pretend nothing happened, wouldn't they? She simply doesn't know. Then Gillian remembers that her car is still parked somewhere; she doesn't even know exactly where. There is a lot to sort out. She is glad the weekend buys them time to do so.
Gillian decides to get up, take a shower and make coffee. She can't leave Cal like that, though, and leans over to kiss him tenderly on his shoulder. He stirs and yawns lazily.
"Good morning, Dr. Foster."
Cal opens his eyes to look at her and laughs at what he sees. Quick breathing, flushed skin, dilated pupils.
"Really?" he banters. "That's all it takes to get you going?"
Her gaze caresses his skin and wanders down along his body. She raises an eyebrow. "Seems as if I'm not the only one."
Maybe shower and coffee can wait a little longer.
"So, this is what you do on a Saturday morning?" Cal asks Gillian, cupping his chin in his hand, smiling at her. "Reading the newspaper? Drinking coffee?"
She looks at him. They are sitting at her kitchen table and she is actually reading the newspaper or at least pretending to do so while he does nothing except staring at her. It is difficult for her to concentrate on the articles when he is so fixated on her. She is not really into breakfast, besides coffee that is, and has no supply of bacon and eggs at home that Cal would have liked to devour. So, just coffee it is for both of them.
When they sat down at the table, they were relaxed and in a good mood induced by the excitement of their new physical closeness. However, as the minutes pass by, something changes. Gillian wishes she could maintain the light-hearted feeling, but it is slipping away, being replaced by a feeling of confinement. Why does he have to be so demanding, staring at her the entire time? Nah, I don't need anything to read. I'm perfectly fine, he insisted when she offered to share the newspaper. Now, that they crossed the line, he won't stop until he knows everything about her. It is flattering, but at the same time it makes her skin crawl. Some of Cal Lightman's main character traits, his intensity and stubbornness, are difficult to handle on an ordinary day and will be even more so given the circumstances.
In a way, she always has been the center of his attention. Setting up a file on Burns or observing her and Loker are only a few examples. Gillian knows that she could tell him to back off a little and maybe he would even understand. Whether he would act on it, though, is a different matter altogether. Probably not. She tried it in the past and he rarely considered her feelings. If ever. She is reminded of his behavior during the last months and a wave of anger floods through her. Anger is the last thing she wants to feel right know, but she can't help it.
The silence is getting uncomfortable. It takes her much too long to answer. Cal already knows that her response won't be as easy-going as his question before she starts to speak.
"Is this what you do on a Saturday morning? Reading people?" Gillian says irritated.
"You are deflecting."
"And you are...," she pauses. This is their first breakfast together and already it threatens to end in an argument. "...intense," she finishes her sentence.
"Annoying. Irritating. That's what you mean. Don't have to play nice just because you shagged me."
His smirk is irresistible. Their short battle of words represents everything she loves and hates about them. She loves their closeness, their ability to communicate without speaking even if she now and then tells him to use his words. She hates, though, that he sees right through her. Blind spot or not, he knows her better than anybody else and sometimes this makes her feel as if she has no place left she can call her own while he pushes her away and keeps her at distance whenever it pleases him. Intense doesn't even begin to describe how she feels under his scrutinizing gaze.
"Whoa! What was that?"
And there it is. He saw right through her, comes probably pretty close with his assumption what she was thinking. Too close.
"Cal..." Gillian shakes her head and looks down, doesn't want to argue with him although her inner voice tells her that this argument is long overdue. She is a psychologist. She knows that she has been swallowing her anger far too long.
"I don't have to be here, Gill."
He is hurt, senses rejection and isn't sure why. She doesn't want him to hurt. They should be happy. Deliriously happy. But there is a missing link. Without resolving their issues, they can't connect their past with their present, can't connect who they were to each other with what happened last night.
"I want you to be here," she whispers, close to tears. "I want this, us, but it is too important to simply go for it without considering... some things first."
"Such as?"
Cal's hand touches her arm; she has put the newspaper away. Their coffee is probably cold by now.
Such as you sleeping with every attractive woman that comes across your path. Such as you redlining me whenever it suits you. Such as me loving you when I don't know whether you actually love me, too. Gillian still doesn't look at him and doesn't give voice to her thoughts either. It is too painful to admit all this.
"Don't do this, luv." His touch turns into a firm grip. "Seriously, Gill, ask me whatever you want, but don't give me the silent treatment. Don't shut me off. I've crossed the line. I'm on your side of the line and I'm not going back, not even if you ask me to."
If he ever has been receptive to listen to her, now is the time. Come on, she urges herself. Tell him. Get it out of the way once and for all.
But it's even more difficult for her to confront him with it than before last night. There is so much more at stake and Gillian has become so used to his indifference and refusal that she almost can't believe he will listen to her and moreover understand. He has changed, she reminds herself. The Cal she has come to know during the last weeks is different from the person who ignored and rejected her too often in the past.
"As if I could ever ask you to go back," her voice is barely audible, her thoughts swirling.
"Then why the anger? Why the insecurity? You say you want us. Well, let me tell you, I want us, too. I've been wanting this, you, for so long. I was jealous when you were with Burns. I was jealous when you were in the bar with Loker. I was insanely jealous when you dated that bugger last night. Bloody hell, I even was jealous of your husband when you were still married. There I said it. Confession time. Your turn."
Cal jumped to his feet and is standing right next to her, his breath hot on her skin, his hands touching her in between while he is talking and gesticulating. Gillian is flattered by his admission, he can tell by her faint smile, albeit her words qualify his statement.
"That's desire, Cal. I think we both are aware that the physical attraction between us has always been there. Right from the beginning. But we also both know that you are easily attracted to women and lose interest in them just as easily once you had them."
It is kind of a low blow, but it's the truth. And it's part of what is bothering her.
Cal clenches his teeth, his jawline protruding. He steps back and stares at her doubtingly.
"Now, you are pissing me off, Gill," he spits at her, doesn't care whether it is rude or not, wants her to see his hurt and anger.
"That," he points at her bedroom, "was desire. But this," he points at her, at them, "is something entirely different. If you were any other woman, do you really think I would still be here to talk it through with you? I would have been out of the door the moment you opened your mouth to speak because, as you phrased it not so nicely, if it's just about the physical attraction, I don't give a shit once I had the woman."
She swallows and blushes, can't stand the look in his eyes. There is no way around this though. Cal is right; confession time it is.
"I don't mean to hurt you, Cal," Gillian says tenderly, trying to take the sharp edge off her words. "But the way you treated me sometimes was insufferable. You hurt me. More than once. Without giving it some thought." He flinches but doesn't interrupt her. Just listens. "I somehow managed to deal with it because we are friends and have to run a company together. But now, that things have changed, the imagination how it will feel if you hurt me again like this...," her voice trails off and she has to compose herself. "Now that we are..." She swallows again. "I won't be able to tolerate this kind of behavior anymore, meaning the next time you decide to act like this, there will be consequences. And these consequences will leave me with nothing, Cal. Nothing. Because now, that we are even closer, there is no place left that is solely my own, even not within me. And this scares me, Cal." He can see the tears in her eyes shimmering. "We can't go back. I don't want to go back, but I'm afraid where we will end up, where I will end up."
Gillian takes a deep breath. There. It's all out in the open.
"All this because I rather look at a beautiful woman than read the newspaper?" Cal asks, but his face tells her everything she has been waiting for.
He feels bad about how he treated her. Very bad. Cal understands, and much more important, he regrets what happened. The relief is almost overwhelming and Gillian can't stop some tears from falling just when he closes the distance between them to pull her into his arms.
"Forgive me, luv. Please forgive me. Will you? Can you?"
His raw, almost desperate, voice pleads with her. Yes, she can forgive him and she will. Easily – no matter how deeply he hurt her at that time. All it took was his realization how much he hurt her and his willingness to ask for her forgiveness.
"Apology accepted," she mumbles and feels his arms hold her even tighter.
"I probably will have to do this again, though, you know. Apologizing," Cal says after a brief pause and she pushes him away from her to get a better look at him.
"I don't want to," he clarifies, "but I probably will hurt you sometime in the future even if I don't intend to repeat my stupid mistakes from the past. None of them. Bugger that I was. But...," he emphasizes, "...people make mistakes. I will make mistakes. You will make mistakes. Meaning I will hurt you and you will hurt me. Unintentionally, I hope, but it will happen and it will kill me when you hurt me because the more you love the more it hurts."
Cal's hand caresses Gillian's face, tracing her jawline with one finger. Some strands of her hair are still wet from the shower. Without make-up and curly hair she looks younger and more vulnerable. She holds his gaze unwaveringly, letting sink in what he just told her. It's not just attraction, not just affection. He loves her. He apologized. The missing link. Maybe they will actually find a way to make this work.
"I won't always forgive you that easily," she teases him, already smiling again even if her cheeks are still wet from her tears. "You will have to come up with some extraordinary ideas to make it up to me."
She can literally see his beautiful mind thinking, coming up immediately with some ideas that will please her very much and would probably make her blush if he told her about them.
"Why don't we go out to have breakfast?" Gillian asks, snuggling into him. "Our coffee is cold, and this way, you can have your bacon and eggs."
"You're deflecting again," Cal reprimands her, but this time his statement is also meant to tease her and not as serious and full of underlying tension as it was earlier this morning.
He inhales the scent of her shampoo, of her skin, and his hands sneak under her top, relishing the curves of her body.
"Don't tell me you didn't read what I am thinking right now," he murmurs.
She laughs. His hands are still exploring her body and her laughter lets her body vibrate against his. When he hugs her to himself and kisses her, she feels his arousal and takes a deep breath. Again? Really?
"Will it be like this from now on?" Gillian asks and she is half serious, half joking. "Because we have to work occasionally, you know. To make a living. We can't always..." give in to this overwhelming need to lose ourselves in each other.
She looks at him and even if she was the one to ask, Cal can see that she is as aroused as he is. They are actually quite a pair.
"No, it won't," he says. "From now on, everything will be even better."
So, are you smiling right now? If not, I did something wrong.
There are still some loose ends which I hope to fix in the next chapter.
Thank you for reading & reviewing.
