Author's Notes: Thank you all so much for the feedback for the first half - This is a one shot (split in two) but I'm going to take a leaf out of the Mentalist fandom and do a few more random one-shots that would take into account what happened in this fic - does that make sense? Anyways, enjoy :o)

When Gillian didn't offer an explanation, choosing to keep Emily's confidence after she'd trusted her, Cal smirked, glad he knew her well enough to know that she'd pass on anything he should be worried about when it came to his daughter. "So you've worked your psychiatrist voodoo on my daughter, have you?"

"No Cal, we just talked." Gillian smiled beautifully at him, loathe to admit she enjoyed his teasing over her profession - in the right situation at least.

"Girl talk. I think that might be even worse." Cal responded dramatically, only to be rewarded with a lighthearted thump in the chest.

Laying her hand against the thick fabric of his red rugby shirt, Gillian looked seriously into his blue eyes. "You have a very sensible daughter there, Cal. She's just a little hurt at the moment. Everything's magnified when you're in high school; all she needs is some time to get over him."

"All she would tell me was that they'd split, then clammed up."

"She'll talk to you when she'd ready. Sometimes its just easier to talk to a woman about this stuff." She assured him, moving her hand up to the collar of his shirt absently.

"Well I'm glad you could come over, love. Just what Em needed." Reluctantly moving forward, Cal watched as first her hand then her gaze dropped to the couch, as though his movement made her realize what her hand had been doing of its own volition. Dishing out a couple of slices from the forgotten pizza box, he handed her a plate, idly wondering if she'd eaten already. Smiling her thanks for the delicious-smelling food, she balanced it on her folded knees and absently pulled at the hem of her knee-length skirt.

"Mmm, good." Cal murmured around a mouthful, shifting his midnight-blue eyes thoughtfully on her while he ate.

Several minutes passed before Gillian looked up from her musing to register him studying her again. "What?" She asked nervously, lifting a hand to her lips self-consciously.

"Nah, nothing. Just admiring these wacky colors you wear nowadays." He smirked, his British accent thickening slightly as his voice lowered to an almost seductive level.

"Lilac, Cal. Not wacky." She shot back, not quite hiding the pleased expression that flickered over her pretty face fast enough.

"It was a compliment, love. " Cal assured her, setting his finished with plate down on the carpet and placing his large hand down to grasp her ankle again.

"So, are you going to tell me who this mystery friend is?"

"Wasn't planning to."

She tilted her head to one side in the classic Gillian Foster glare. "Cal -"

"Nothing for you to worry yourself over, love," he replied, amused by the sudden suspicion that appeared by the narrowing of her eyebrows.

"Cal, was this an excuse to get me out of the house?"

Cal grinned, torn between admiration at her perceptiveness and defending himself against her accusation. "Couldn't possibly comment."

"You used Emily's situation to get me over here... so I wouldn't be alone in my house all night?" Gillian asked, her voice softening with surprise.

Cal's heart couldn't ignore that tone. The vulnerability of that particular expression of hers was always his undoing; if she had any idea of the power she had over him sometimes he'd be done for. The woman shouldn't be so damn beautiful all the time, at least then he could ignore the feelings that had been bubbling ever-closer to the surface of his consciousness for what seemed like forever. "Figured you spend enough nights home by yourself, love."

She smiled, sapphire eyes a little watery and before Cal knew what was happening Gillian was pressing so-soft lips against his own in a short peck. "You're an evil man, Cal Lightman, but thank you. I needed this."

"Good," he replied, struck dumb by the unexpected albeit chaste kiss he'd received moments earlier. Emboldened by Gillian's affection, he moved the hand settled on her ankle across her skin at the back of her calf, vaguely aware of his sudden dislike for stockings that acted as a barrier between his questing fingers and her bare skin. He looked up to find her watching him in surprise, though the was definitely a hint of lust in her clear blue eyes.

"Cal -"

The anxious tone and her contradicting expression were all he needed to convince him the urge to kiss her would be a welcome one, closing the distance between them in a second. She tasted like coffee and chocolate heaven, tiny and delicate beneath his hands as roamed her waistline and up her back. He was dimly aware of the front of his shirt being grasped just over his heart, at the same time he registered the cool silk of her shirt beneath his own hands. She made a small, urgent noise in the back of her throat, prompting him to deepen their kiss. One hand finished its exploration of her back and shifted around to her front, finding the hem of her shirt. As he flattened his hand against her toned stomach, bare skin against his warm hand, Cal was jolted out of the moment when she flinched at the contact.

Instantly concerned, he pulled back from her, trying desperately to ignore the sexy bedroom eyes she shot him in surprise at his sudden halt.

"Gillian -" he panted, trying to haul his libido back under control and find out what just happened.

"Sorry, I'm sorry." Gillian took a steadying breath, raising both hands to her flushed cheeks. Cal's worry increased further, his mind running through the evening for signs he'd missed something, clues to what might have caused her to flinch against him. The self-recrimination must have shown in his face because she raised a gentle hand to his face before explaining: "I just... I haven't been with anyone else in... in a long time."

Breathing a mental sigh of relief, he ran a protective hand over her hair. "That's alright, love. I didn't mean to pounce -" He shot her a lighthearted smile, hoping he hadn't completely misinterpreted how she felt due to his own long-term feelings blinding him.

Gillian smiled sweetly, seemly enjoying his hand in her hair. "You didn't."

It wasn't a lie, but her features portrayed a sickening mix of pretty well concealed panic and fear. Keeping his gaze locked on her pretty face, Cal pulled his hand back, registering the flash of hurt that crossed her eyebrows.

"I think I should go."

"You sure, love? Don't want another coffee?"

She smiled at him, a sincere smile, putting Cal at least a little more at ease. "I won't sleep if I have another."

But that was a lie. Fairly well hidden, but he guessed she just wanted to leave. Probably for the best, he didn't trust himself not to do something
stupid if she stayed any longer.

Holding her jacket out for her to slip her arms into like the perfect gentleman, he didn't try to fill the somewhat awkward silence. Gillian was avoiding even meeting his eyes, intent on the process of gathering what little she'd brought with her. Holding the front door open for her, he followed her out to escort her to her silver Lexus, even though it was only parked a little ways down the street. Cal would never admit it, but he loathed the thought of Gillian being out alone at night after what happened with the Jenkins copycat a year ago.

Stopping and turning to him all of a sudden, Gillian's brows narrowed in suspicion. "This friend of yours doesn't exist, does he?"

Trying not to notice that her rosy lips were still a little swollen from their passionate embrace, Cal pasted an innocent expression on his face. "Suspicion is an ugly thing, Foster."

Triumph graced her features and a joyful smile spread her mouth. "I knew it! Cal, you manipulative bastard."

Feigning hurt, he leaned back against the bonnet of her treasured Lexus, folding his arms across his chest. "I try."

Gillian laughed. "Thanks, Cal. It means a lot that you'd contrive a whole nonexistent friend just to get me over here."

"Nah, love, you did Emily a lot of good tonight. Barely said a word before I left and an hour of your psychoanalyst thing sorts her right out."

"She just needed to talk, Cal. She'll be fine in a little while."

"Anything I should know?"

Gillian shook her head no.

"Girl talk really works then, huh?"

She smiled, placing a hand on his chest. "Sometimes. Thanks for getting me out of my place tonight, Cal. I didn't realize how much I needed it." A little reluctant, she moved forward, slipping her arms around him in a hug.

"Glad I could help, love." Cal replied, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head as he breathed in the scent of her flowery shampoo.

"And we'll talk about this," she gestured between them with her hand, "about what happened?"

"Yeah, we will." He shot her a genuine smile, running a hand over her silken caramel tresses before letting go of her.

Holding the driver's door open for her, she slid in behind the wheel, tossing her bag on the passenger seat.

"Goodnight, Cal. "Gillian told him warmly.

"Night, love." Returning her hopeful smile, he closed her door after her as she started the engine, raising his left hand in a wave. Rewarded with
a final smile, Cal watched as she maneuvered the car away from the curb, and to the end of the street.

He was stood there long after the Lexus has disappeared from view, well aware that any chance of sleeping that night had left with his partner.