A/N: Just wanted to say that you guys are awesome! I think I replied to each of your reviews but I wanted to say another thank you here, because I appreciated the support / feedback more than you know. It means so much! And now, chapter 25. Enjoy!

Thirty minutes – that's how late he was running. Ten minutes had quickly snowballed into twenty, thanks to the delay at the restaurant, and then twenty easily snowballed into thirty thanks to the unpredictability of DC traffic. But when he called to warn her, Gillian was as gracious and pleasant as always (especially considering that he had her dinner held hostage in his car), and really didn't seem to mind at all.

That was his Gillian, alright – forgiving and gracious. He only hoped she'd still be in a forgiving mood after he told her the whole truth about that case.

Alright, fine… maybe he was overeating. Because it wasn't like he'd told her continual lies about the bloody thing for the past ten years. It was more like he'd just… omitted a bit of truth right at the beginning. Made a few secretive phone calls and a few well-placed fibs, and he'd just never found a reason to own up to it until now. Maybe the whole thing wouldn't turn out to be such a big deal after all.

Maybe she would just listen quietly, accept his explanation at face value, and not rip off his balls and try to feed them to him as an after dinner snack. Maybe she'd understand why he'd done it. Understand that he'd only been trying to protect her. Understand that protecting her was a driving force behind most of the decisions he'd made since they met.

Cal sighed and thumped his head back against the seat rest as he drove. The nerves he'd been feeling earlier had now balled themselves up in his stomach and formed a heavy weight that was starting to make him feel nauseous. Not butterflies, exactly – it felt more like scorpions, all tangled tails and venom. And truth be told, it was really starting to piss him off because this night really should be about so much more than lies and baggage and past grievances.

It should be about starting over. Taking a few steps forward. And as long as Gillian was willing to take them with him, then he'd just have to try and trust that she wouldn't duck and run because of a few lies he told just a few days after they first met.

Back when he only knew her as Dr. Gillian Foster – head shrink and confidante. Not Gillian, best friend with whom he'd fallen in love.

He remembered that first lie as easily as if he'd told it yesterday. Jack Rader had handed him the file, and as soon as Cal accepted it, a group of photos fell out. They were nothing special. A few candid shots taken at random holiday events, and a few portrait types – all just for reference, he assumed. But the one on the top of the pile caught his eye immediately. And after staring at it for several minutes, Rader couldn't help but ask the obvious question.

"Do you know that guy, Dr. Lightman? You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

Cal shook his head and tucked the photos back in the file, then shoved the whole package into one of the bottom drawers in his desk to be dealt with later. "Never seen him before in my life."

Amazing what one little fib could do.

Gillian was cradling her cell phone between her shoulder and her ear, counting the number of rings before Cal picked up. By the first ring, she decided she was an idiot for calling him back so quickly. The man was running late, and the last thing he probably wanted to hear was her nonsensical rambling about what she thought she heard in his voice. By the second ring, she closed her eyes in embarrassment and went back to pacing by the door. And by the third ring, she assumed that he was just irritated and was going to dodge her call. He was only a few minutes away, after all. And this could wait – and really, she was probably just being paranoid.

But on the fourth ring he answered, and she didn't know whether to be relieved or even more embarrassed than she already was.

"Gill? Everything alright love?"

She nodded and shrugged, ignoring the fact that he couldn't see her. "It's silly," she offered, suddenly feeling way too self-conscious to mention anything.

"S'ok. I could use a little bit of silly right about now, so fire away."

Gillian sighed and leaned against the wall. "Truth?" she asked, not knowing how else to start.

"Always. You know that."

"Your voice," she tried. "When you ended the first call a minute ago, you sounded… weird."

Cal frowned. "Weird, how?"

"When you said, "I'll see you soon. It sounded… off. Like you were hesitant about something. Hesitant about coming here, or about having dinner with me, or… something. I'm not sure what."

Gillian sighed again, long and deep. A cleansing breath. And she closed her eyes as she waited for him to respond. But he didn't. Not a single word. She could hear his breathing – knew the line was still open and that he was still there listening to her, but he didn't answer at all. And so to fill the silence, Gillian started to ramble. She started rapid firing broken half-sentences that she hoped would somehow get her point across without making her sound like a paranoid fool.

"Listen, Cal, I just wanted you to know that it's alright if you don't want to… because the last thing I wanted to do was try and strong arm you into…and if you'd rather not…"

Laughter. She heard laughter. Soft, quiet, muffled laughter and then somewhere in the middle of it, she heard his voice again. "Are you bloody well finished now?"

Again she nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see her.

"Trust me, Gillian," he said, pulling a smile from her at the use of her full first name. "There is no where I'd rather be tonight than with you. And if I sounded… how did you put it? Off? Well, that's only because it's you. And it's me. And it's… us. And I don't want to do anything to screw it up, or disappoint you, or…"

Now it was her turn to laugh. "I understand."

"You do?"

"Of course."

Another moment of silence fell between them, but she didn't ramble this time. Instead she just listened to his breathing and gave him space to think.

"Gill?"

"Yes, Cal?"

"You trust me, don't you?" he asked.

"Always."

"Even when I screw up? Even when it might feel like I've hurt you? Do you trust me enough to know that I'd never hurt you on purpose?"

Gillian fell silent and crossed the room to sit on the couch again. She knew he was talking about that case. And now she knew that whatever she heard in his voice earlier – whatever hesitation and doubt she found there – had nothing to do with any doubts he had about her. The only thing he doubted was his ability to tell her about the past.

"Do you trust me, Gill?" he repeated.

And she answered without hesitation. "I trust you."

Cal pulled into Gillian's driveway feeling energized. That second phone call managed to chase away the last of his nerves, and now all he felt was excitement at the idea of spending the evening with her. They would have a good meal, maybe a few good drinks, and they would talk. About everything. The case, the kiss, the hug… everything. Feelings and lies and trust and truth. The whole nine yards. And he had no reason to doubt that it would all be okay, because she'd said it herself – she trusted him.

That alone was reason enough to smile.

By the time Cal cut the engine, grabbed the leather bag off the floorboards, and loaded his arms with their dinner, Gillian was already leaning against the doorway waiting for him. She looked calm and settled – not nervous at all. Simply put, she looked beautiful.

"Need a hand?" she called. "Looks like you bought enough food to feed a small army."

Cal shook his head and nudged the car door closed with one foot, earning himself a smile in the process. "Nah, not a small army," he answered. "Just two people who haven't eaten a real meal all day and fancy the idea of leftovers. Sound good?"

"Sounds good," she agreed, smiling even wider at him as he finally stepped through the front door and maneuvered past her on his way to the kitchen. "Leftover Chinese food makes a fantastic midnight snack, and an even better breakfast."

Gillian followed along behind him, completely unaware of what she'd said – or rather, completely unaware of the way he'd react to what she'd said. And when Cal stopped dead in his tracks a beat later, she nearly crashed right into his back.

"What the…?" she tried, but was interrupted by the smug, satisfied grin that was stretched across his face when he turned toward her. He looked every bit like the cat that ate the canary.

Cal waggled his eyebrows. "Aye, aye, love. Already talking about feeding me breakfast, yeah? Is that an invitation?"

Gillian's face flamed. She stuttered and spurted, trying to remove her foot from her mouth, and finally settled on an embarrassed sounding, "I didn't mean it like that, Cal."

"No?"

She shook her head. "Definitely no."

He had a one word answer. "Pity."

And then he turned away, leaving her slack jawed in his wake. "Better get used to it, Gill. Give me an inch and I'll take a mile."

She wandered through the kitchen doorway a moment later, just as he was laying out the containers of food and grabbing plates from one of the upper cabinets. She'd recovered by then, enough to hold her own with the flirting. "So it seems," she said. "But just for future reference? It's best not to flirt with a girl using inches as a reference point, unless you've got the ability to back it up."

Cal stumbled over that one, dropping a whole container of fried rice as he tried to pour some out onto a plate. Half hit the floor, and half hit the counter, and during the whole exchange Cal kept his eyes locked on her and away from the mess he'd just made. He just blinked mutely at her, half shocked that she'd been bold enough to make the comment.

Gillian merely giggled and then went to help him clean it up. "Something tells me this is going to be an interesting evening."