Author's notes: Thank you again for all the reviews. I really do appreciate everyone who's taken the time to leave one.

The parts in italics are Gillian reading Cal's expressions and a brief flashback.

Part 12

Saturday found Gillian back at Cal's bedside beginning what had become her morning routine. Glancing up at the monitor, she reviewed the numbers and nodded in satisfaction. She hung her coat in the closet, commandeered the rolling table, then started Cal's laptop booting up. She walked over to the thermometer in its holder on the wall and hit the recall button. 99.2, a little high but not enough to call a fever. Another glance took in the numbers on the white board. Cal's weight was down more this morning. He'd lost more than five pounds in less than a week, not good but could be worse. Her fears allayed for the moment, she moved to the bed to greet Cal.

"Morning, sunshine," she kissed his forehead.

She gasped when his head turned toward her and his eyes opened. A groggy and doped to the gills Cal looked out.

Oh, my," she patted her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. "Hey, Cal."

His lips moved as he tried to respond, "Hey."

"I'm so glad to see you. How are you feeling? Are you comfortable?"

Hurts.

"You're getting quite a bit a pain meds, but I'll talk to the staff and see if we can do something about that. Do you know who I am?"

Are you kidding?

"Yeah, I guess you do. Do you know where you are?

Confusion.

She grasped his vaguely wandering hand. "You're in the hospital. You were in a bad car accident and you're in intensive care right now."

I don't remember.

"That's okay. You don't need to remember. No, don't touch that."

What is it?

"You're on a ventilator, Cal. The machine is doing most of your breathing for you."

Fear.

"Relax, it'll be okay. It's only until you heal some more."

Am I?

"Yes, you're getting better every day."

Trust.

"I'll do my best to live up to that trust. Getting sleepy again?"

I don't know why, but I am.

"It's alright, love. Go back to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up again."

Love.

"You do that very well," Gillian turned to find the surgeon's PA had entered the room while she was talking with Cal. "Read his expressions. You've been together for a long time?"

"About fifteen years," Gillian grinned. "But that's what we do for a living. Read expressions."

"What kind of job is that?" Eyebrows raised.

"Dr. Cal Lightman is the foremost scientist in the field of deception detection in the world today. I'm a distant second." Gillian answered with not a little pride in her voice.

"Deception detection? So you can tell if someone's lying? You mean like using a polygraph." Annette was intrigued.

"Oh, no," Emily joined the conversation. "Hi, Gill."

"He's awake," Gill informed the teen.

"Really?" she bounced up to the head of the bed. "Hey, dad."

Slowly opening his eyes, Cal focused on his daughter's grinning face. A slight smile curled his lips then he mouthed "Em". His eyes slide closed again.

"That was cool," she beamed, then picked up the interrupted conversation. "My dad's better than any old polygraph. Lots of people can beat polygraphs. My dad, a fifth of a second expression on your face, and he's got you nailed. Gillian's almost as good. Or bad, depending if you're inside or outside the Cube. She's a lot more subtle, she doesn't get all up in your face like dad does."

"That must be fun for you," Annette empathized with the teenager.

"Oh, yeah, it's a…blast. You should try it sometime. Oh, you probably will when he wakes up more."

"I'll tell the staff to be exquisitely truthful to you people." The PA grimaced. "Not that we lie a lot anyway."

"We appreciate candor." Gillian emphasized.

"I'll remember that. So how's he doing today? I heard he puts up quite a fight for a scientist."


"Hey, Gill, can I ask you something?" Emily flopped her book down on the ledge, tired of doing schoolwork.

"Sure. I can't guarantee I'll answer."

"How did you and dad meet?"

Gillian swiveled in surprise. "Your dad never told you?"

The teen gave her a coy look. "Yeah, he did. I just wanted to see if his story is the same as your story."

"Oh, I see," she chuckled. "Well, sure, it's no big secret. Did he tell you he scared the hell out of me?"

"Dad can be pretty scary when he wants to be." Emily's eyes lost focus. "He only really screamed at me once. I think I was seven or eight. He caught me trying to jump off the roof in my Superman cape."

"Oh, no," Gillian moaned. "He probably only screamed because you scared him so bad."

"Yeah, I figured that out later. But right then…I peed my pants…literally."

"Oh, sweetheart."

"Not my best memory. But we all calmed down, I apologized then he apologized. It turned out pretty good. But I know how scary he can be." She settled on the floor at Gillian's feet. "So give me the whole scoop."

Gillian grinned. "Well, I had just submitted my dissertation. Besides doing clinical work I was teaching some classes at the university…

The kid in the back of the room was staring at her again. In fact, he hadn't stopped since he'd flopped down in the chair in the back corner. Early to mid-twenties, good looking in a rough kind of way, he wore a battered leather jacket over a white wifebeater. His denim-clad legs stretched so far out in front of him, he looked as if he'd slip from the seat at any second. Blonde or light brown hair, depending how the lights caught it, parted in the middle, hung long enough to brush his eyebrows. He didn't fit in with the rest of the collegiate boys and girls. A bad boy from the wrong part of town invading her psychology class room.

Not that she didn't have the occasional outiers in her class. The loners, the nerds, the rough kids, but this kid was different. He reeked of arrogance, the arrogance of a large jungle cat amongst a herd of unsuspecting antelope. With her as his chosen prey. The entire class time he stared, sparing her only a few seconds when he might glance at another student who had a question or answer. Not the usual ogling she'd learned to endure. Not undressing her with his eyes, his stare stayed glued to her face. He turned with her every move, head bobbing and twisting to keep eye contact. Intense was too mild to describe it. His gaze left her feeling stripped to the bone, naked emotionally and mentally, her every thought and feeling revealed to his knowing eyes. She glared back but it only seemed to amuse him.

After what seemed like an eternity, the class ended. She breathed a sigh of relief as the boys and girls filed out of the room. But that sigh caught in her throat as she realized he wasn't leaving. In fact, he sauntered up to her desk. And appeared to have no concept of personal space as he didn't stop until he was bare inches away. Gillian would have stepped back if she hadn't already been pressed against her desk.

Up this close, she saw he wasn't nearly as young as she'd first thought. Early thirties, even, fine lines just beginning to form around bright, intelligent eyes.

"I'm Cal Lightman," he introduced himself in a surprisingly thick English accent. "I read your dissertation. I think you should come to Morocco with me."

"He didn't!" Emily whooped in laughter.

"He did!" Gillian affirmed, holding her thumb and forefinger a miniscule distance apart. "I was this close to calling security."

"Well, did you go? To Morocco?" Emily twisted her head to better see Gillian's expression, too much like her father for her own good. "You did! You did go to Morocco with him!"

Gill smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, eventually he wore me down and I did go. There were six of us. Your dad called us the Diogenes Project." Seeing the teen's confused look, she explained, "After the Greek philosopher who would shine a lamp into people's faces looking for an honest man."

"I knew there was more than dad said."

Gillian felt the flex of fingers around her wrist. "I think he might be waking up again."