Title: There's a Reason Not to Want This, But I Forgot
Characters: Gillian Foster, Cal Lightman
Rating: K or PG
Through 1x11: Undercover
Timeline: Set during the final scene of 1x11: Undercover
Word Count: 400
Lie to Me and its characters belong to FOX, not me. This story is purely meant to entertain. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: People were the sum of their choices, and she wanted to be a good person. Set during the final scene of 1x11: Undercover. Cal/Gillian

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There's a Reason Not to Want This, But I Forgot

"You didn't just happen to find Alec's glasses the other night, did you? You thought he was having an affair." It was a dangerous question, but the words had slipped from between her lips, touching air: she couldn't take them back.

"I was afraid you were going to get hurt," Cal replied without hesitation, his hand settling on her arm. A simple touch, with simple words. Nothing was simple.

His honesty and his palm warmed more than just her skin. She struggled to keep from lifting her own hand to cover his and keep it in place. The act of wanting something didn't equal possession. If it did, she would hear Sophie's laughter every day, instead of imagining it in her dreams.

"You were protecting me?" she asked, unable to keep a note of wonder from her voice.

"Something like that, yeah," he said, with a small nod of confirmation. Pleasure winged through her, swift and unexpected. Undeniable.

For a second she let herself forget -- her obligations, her commitments, all the reasons why...

She caught herself.

A choice hovered in this moment.

People were the sum of their choices, and she wanted to be a good person. "You know the line we talk about? You know, the line we have to draw because we see things people are hiding? Things they don't want us to know... I think we should respect the line. I think it's best for both of us."

He didn't reply, just looked back at her, brow furrowed and eyes thoughtful, watchful, in the small golden circle of light that enveloped them. Seeing too much, as always, she was certain. His silence didn't escape her notice, and she knew him too well to take it for complete acceptance. If he had argued, she could have continued. Then she might have had a chance of convincing herself as she worked to convince him. But he didn't. So neither did she.

The weight of his gaze pressed against her, as solid and warm and real as that of his hand on her arm moments ago. Or had it been a lifetime? She finally glanced away. "Good night, Cal," she said, injecting finality and a firmness she didn't feel, into the words.

After three heartbeats, he spoke. "Night, love," he replied, voice hushed.

She sighed as he stood and walked away, leaving the casual endearment drifting in his wake.