Me: Hey everyone! Even though I've had this account for a bit I didn't really have time to post anything and it's my first fic.

Cal: *cough, cough* uh-huh

Me: What?

Cal: You mean to tell me luv that all the time you were reading fan fic you couldn't have posted anything? Hmmm?

Me: -_- Alright, alright I guess I could've posted something but nothing really came to my mind, actually I've had this idea for a while but well I just never wrote it.

Cal: Right well now that you've successfully managed to bore the poor readers to death I'll tell them what you were suppose to in the first line. As much as she'd like to the author of this story doesn't own Lie To Me or any of its characters. If she did I would've already shagged Gillian several times…

Me: Now you're slowing down the story Cal, :P so without any further ado on with the show!

Prologue

Groggily Cal got up from bed, awoken by the ear-splitting cry of a baby. As quickly as his tired body would allow him Cal made his way to what used to be the spare bedroom and was now the home of a 6 month old baby boy. Cal went over to the crib and gently picked up the child, his son, and began rocking him in his arms. The baby's crying went down to a quiet whimper then faded completely. Gillian quietly walked up behind Cal and planted a kiss on Cal's neck.

"We did good huh?"

"That we did luv, that we did."

Cal smiled as he looked back and remembered the events that had led up to now.

Cal lay on his couch not really watching the soccer game that was playing on his TV. Today was her anniversary, the anniversary of his mother's death. Cal hadn't really moved from his spot on the couch for a good portion of the day. He was too engrossed in his thoughts to do anything other than drink from one of the various bottles of scotch that lay on the table next to his couch. If only he'd seen the pain, the agony, maybe she would still be alive. Maybe if he hadn't got into so much trouble when he was a child she wouldn't have needed to go to the psychiatric hospital. It was all completely untrue he knew that but when his mother had died his father had blamed him for everything and soon Cal began to believe it. It was Gillian who had been able to at least somewhat convince him that this wasn't true. Gillian, the woman he loved and respected with his entire being. He'd watched helplessly as her pathetic, cheating, crack-addicted husband hurt her and how she remained true to him. He respected her line even though they both knew that they wanted nothing more than for Cal to hold her, kiss her senseless and show her how much he loved her. His life was full of regrets, the only exceptions were Emily, Gillian and the firm. He'd been such an idiot to marry Zoë, and then when she left and Gillian was left to pick up the pieces and bring him back to life, he still felt guilty about her having to do that. Then what did he do? He'd gone off and hit it off with Zoë then the next day Gillian got attacked by Jenkin's protégé. Once again he was forced to sit in fury, he knew Alec hadn't gone to the hospital, her own husband couldn't take the time to see if his beautiful, angelic wife was alright. It had been his own fault though that Gillian had gotten attacked and he saw that he deserved to sit in fury and guilt, knowing that he'd been the cause of most of Gillian's pain. Of course just when things were getting better for them and Gillian had gotten divorced he'd gone off and slept with Poppy. He hadn't done it to further hurt Gillian, it was just that even though most of him had given up on the chance that one day he could show Gillian how much he loved her, there was still a small part of him that tortured him by holding onto that hope. It was because of that part of him that in Vegas, he needed to feel Gillian, feel her skin beneath his. So what did he do? He'd gone off and settled for a poker whore, all the while imagining it was Gillian. As if Poppy could compare to Gillian's amazing body, and personality, the comparison was disgusting and he couldn't believe that for that night he'd convinced himself that it was Gillian. Truth be told he'd fucked up with his daughter, he should've been a better dad and now she was 16, her childhood practically gone. He'd fucked up with Gillian, he should've told her how much he loved her. He'd fucked up life, even though he was successful in his business he was a failure in the things that mattered most to him.

Gillian sat in her house, all alone with the exception of her scotch, ice cream and Patrick Dempsey playing his part wonderfully in Made of Honor on her T.V. She wasn't really paying too much attention to the movie, just enough to get her thinking that the movie was somewhat close to what had happened to her. She hadn't really known how much Cal loved her until her wedding day when she'd said "I do", and turned around. Cal's mask of happiness had been destroyed for that moment and she'd seen the pain and sadness in his beautiful hazel eyes. He'd hurt her so much over the years, marrying Zoë, sleeping with Zoë when she'd worked with them, and sleeping with Poppy in Vegas. Every single time he'd done those things she'd felt so hurt and angry, then she'd noticed how ashamed he was of himself, how sad he was, and how angry he was at himself. Once, just once she'd yelled at him after he'd gone and slept with Zoë after that one night and she'd never forget the results. The next day he hadn't come in to work, after the day had ended she'd gone over to his house to see how he was. The door was unlocked and when she walked in she had been horrified. Cal had been sitting on his couch, head in his hands, at least three empty bottles of scotch on the table and when she'd gotten closer she saw the gun sitting next to him, and when she looked at him again she noticed he was crying. She called his name, he looked up at her and started saying how sorry he was, how fucked up he was. She stayed the night that day, Cal falling asleep on the couch. When she left the next morning she threw the gun away on her way out. She didn't really know what was holding her back from telling him she loved him, old habits died hard she supposed and respecting the line was a habit and a dance she'd grown tired of.

Even though both of them were far away from each other, their hearts still beat as one and in soul they were together.

A/N : Alright, I know that last little bit about souls may have been a little cheesy but I thought of it and it seemed like a good idea at the time. Anyway, now that you've read this please review. It would mean a lot to hear what you think. I am always welcome to constructive criticism and anything else you have to share. I'm really excited about this fic and I don't have a set amount of chappies figured out yet. You guys will determine how this will go. Thanks :D