Gillian registered that Cal was quoting the movie, which made her smile, but her face scrunched up in confusion, even as his face was mere inches away from hers, his breath falling in short gasps against her face.

"What?" She asked, her voice coming out in a higher pitch than she wanted it.

"The Line, Foster," Cal said dramatically, his fingers taut on the back of her neck, "You worship it." He said, leaning in closely so they were nearly nose to nose. Gillian could smell the frosting on his breath as he spoke, "And for years, I've played along—gone along with all the rituals, stood up and down and left and right," Cal continued, his metaphor taking particular flourish, he sighed, "but I'm tired of it, Gill—I want to—" his eyes beheld amusement, "convert." Cal's lips curled into a smile. He was obviously pleased with himself and Gillian would have laughed at his expression had she not been fighting a war with nausea.

She'd be lying to herself if she said she'd never thought of—converting—as Cal put it. But as she took in the feel of Cal's hand on her neck, of his breath on her face, she wasn't sure she could handle it. Suddenly, she recoiled from his grasp and she stood up, and moved away to the other side of the coffee table. Putting distance between them, she tried to clear her mind.

Gillian recognized the feeling overtaking her body—fight or flight. She felt the adrenaline pumping through her veins, and she felt the distinct tingle in her feet and she wanted more than anything to run. It took every ounce of will power within her to keep her feet planted to the floor. Cal was making her confront the issue head-on. Gillian shook her head. The truth of the matter was that she'd been in a relationship with Cal for years, and it had been one of the most painstaking and heartbreaking of her life—and they weren't even romantically involved. Gillian didn't like to admit it, but her heart was sometimes more fragile than even she expected—and Cal had held it in the palm of his hand for years without knowing it. To change the nature of their relationship now would be to relinquish control completely, and Gillian wasn't sure she was ready for that.

"No." Gillian said, her back to Cal, "No, we can't." She said with forced finality as she turned on her heel to look at him. She expected to meet a look of shame—a look of defeat, perhaps, and at the very least a look of disappointment. Gillian, however, did not receive any of those particular looks.

Instead, Cal stared at her from his sitting position on the couch, his gaze holding the same fire and intensity as before. In fact, as Gillian observed him, she thought his eyes looked as though they were even more intense than they had been previously—he was displaying desire and absolute determination. She nearly shuddered as she fell speechless when Cal looked her up and down, hunger evident in his stare.

"Why not?" He asked, pinning her with his eyes.

Gillian faltered under the absolute intensity of his gaze—"Because—" she stumbled, "Because it's not a good idea." She finished, her hands falling at her sides. She acknowledged that her response was lacking, but the way Cal was looking at her shook her to her core and she was amazed and proud that she could manage to form sentences, coherent or otherwise.

Cal smirked, "Yes it is." He said, matter-of-factly, and he looked poised to move from the couch. "It's the best idea I've ever heard." Cal replied, his voice dropping even lower.

"No," Gillian said, shaking her head "It's not." Her voice was unsteady.

Cal smiled—he would humor her, "Why not?" He tilted his head and squinted slightly.

Gillian sighed, her stomach heaving up into her chest, "Because, Cal. We work together." Cal rolled his eyes, she glanced away from him, "Because it…" she trailed off, "Because it would be hard." Gillian finished as a lump began to develop in her throat.

"You're not kidding, love." Cal said, innuendo dripping from his words.

Gillian felt her breath catch in her throat, and the tears that were making their way to her eyes stopped dead in their tracks as she felt her pulse quicken as her body registered Cal's words. Cal was the only man she'd ever met that could make her feel so—raw.

Gillian chanced a glance at him and she could tell that he was thrilled with himself—he was obviously reading her and he knew what imagery was going through her mind, and he knew, without a doubt, what he did to her. Cal could see the desire and arousal written all over her face—along with the worry. He hated seeing that there, but decided that for the sake of both of them, he must do his best to ignore that bit.

Shifting slightly on the couch, Cal hid a snicker—only one thought was running through his mind—I'll let her know what she does to me.

Gillian was silent a moment, not trusting her voice—her instincts were right because when she started to speak, there was a slight tremor in her voice and even she could hear the trepidation coupled with arousal flowing through them, "It's not a good idea." Even she was unconvinced by her argument.

"It is." Cal said, a gleam coming to his eye.

"It's not—" she began, and before she could finish, Cal was off the couch and standing in front of her, a feral, wild look in his eyes.

Gillian gasped as he walked her back toward the wall, snaking one hand out to clasp her neck firmly even as the other wrapped itself around her hip—Gillian gasped as she felt herself come into contact with the wall—it was gradual, not a slam, but enough to jolt her. When she looked into Cal's eyes, she saw his pupils fully dilated, and she knew, without a doubt, that her eyes mirrored his. Her gaze fell to his lips, which held one of his patented smirks, and then back to his eyes.

Cal dipped his head and leaned in close to Gillian's face, his lips inches from hers, "I thought," He began, his voice rough and gravelly as he pressed his fingers tightly into her hip, "little girls always believed everything that was told to them…" Cal said, his voice trailing off as he placed a tentative kiss at the corner of her mouth.

Gillian felt a rush of heat course through her body at the contact and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. Cal's eyes followed movement as she ran her tongue across her lips, and then, unable to control himself when faced with the sensuality of the action, he groaned. The sound emanated throughout the room, the savage noise hitting Gillian in the stomach and traveling decidedly downward. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly at the sound, trying not to concentrate on her own body. She felt completely on edge—and if she allowed herself to concentrate on their points of contact, Gillian was certain she'd be overwhelmed. Instead, she let the heavy hum of arousal spread languidly throughout her body.

Laughing sensually, Cal created another point of contact between them by pushing his hips forward into hers. Gillian's eyes rolled slightly back into her head as she gasped,

"I thought," he said, emphasizing the word with a slight pull on her neck, "little girls were innocent and trusting." The words Cal issued weren't sexy in the slightest, but the way he uttered them made them count among the hottest words Gillian had ever heard. They were so sexy, in fact, that they made Gillian's knees go weak, and had Cal's body not been pinning her against the wall, she very well might have fallen over.

Gillian opened her mouth as another wave of arousal passed through her body, but Cal had barely finished speaking the sultry words when his lips crashed onto hers.

Gillian felt a steady heat in her stomach as Cal kissed her—it was rough, rougher than it'd been with any man previous. The kiss was so full of desire from the beginning that Gillian began to tremble as the desperate, aching need for one another pulsated between them.

Cal had wanted her for years—and he let that piece of information slip into his kiss.

Cal paused for a moment and then smiled against Gillian's lips, pleasure that he was finally kissing her overtaking him, before he resumed kissing. His hands traveled to her hair, and Gillian wrapped her arms around Cal's back as her hands found their way into his hair, by route of running up his back with a firm pressure that made Cal shudder. Gillian felt Cal's muscles tense and release under her palms from beneath his shirt, and she added her nails as she made the final journey up his neck—her hands settled in his hair, and she tugged lightly.

Cal's tongue traced her bottom lip and she opened her mouth, allowing him entrance. As their tongues touched, Gillian let out a moan and Cal subconsciously pressed his hips harder into hers. They tasted each other, explored each other's mouths, and when Gillian tentatively took Cal's bottom lip between her teeth and ran her tongue over it, Cal felt his heart stop momentarily.

He hadn't thought it possible, but his hunger and desire for her increased, and he deepened the kiss—and they stood, Gillian pressed up against the wall with Cal's body, making out like horny teenagers as the moments passed by.

Finally, Cal pulled away and rested his forehead against hers, his arms moving to the wall behind her. They stood panting for a moment, each trying to calm their nerves as arousal hung heavy in the air around them.

Cal spoke first, "Bloody hell," He breathed, "That was the sexiest thing I've ever done."

Gillian smiled brightly, recognizing that Cal was telling the truth.

Suddenly, though, Gillian was struck with the urge to clear her head—Cal's kissing, Cal's proximity was muddling her brain, allowing her no thought processes.

Cal watched as the expression on her face changed, and he wasn't the least bit surprised when she ducked out from under his arms.

He watched as she retreated to the couch and leaned pensively against the arm. Cal spun around and leaned against the wall, his hands at his sides.

Their postures couldn't have been more different—Gillian crossed her arms in front of her body, her hands holding on to her sides. Cal's palms faced the wall, his fingertips resting against the plaster.

Gillian's brow was furrowed and she was deep in contemplation. She took her time, thinking, and Cal watched as her faced tensed and relaxed and then tensed again before she asked, "Now what?" her voice sounding distant even to herself.

"Has it really been that long, love?" Cal teased.

She looked at him and rolled her eyes, not in a position to receive his attempts at humor in kind. She was feeling raw and exposed.

Gillian sighed, "I mean it, Cal—what now?"

Cal shook his head, "No, love. That's not your question." He tilted his head to the side.

Gillian's eyes widened slightly, and her hands tightened their grip on her sides, "Fine. Why now?"

The question seemed similar, but they were quite different. Cal knew what she was asking and why she was asking it. Cal pressed his lips together, his face in repose, yet he kept his hands against the wall. He wanted Gillian to know that he was open—that he was ready.

Cal shrugged, "Because I'm bloody tired of waiting." Cal looked at her until her eyes met his—and then he let everything he felt seep into them.

He watched as Gillian registered shock and then her eyes crinkled slightly as a small smile came to her face. Times like these made Cal thankful for his science, made him particularly thankful that he'd taught the science to Gillian—it meant that he didn't have to ruin anything with words.

Gillian looked at him—she considered his posture, knew that he was doing it on purpose. Cal did everything on purpose. Her mind studied the events that had brought her to this moment—Emily inviting her over, Cal asking her to stay, and she felt her heart pulled in a familiar direction.

Smiling, she walked over to Cal, "Okay." She said when she reached him.

"Okay?" He repeated, flashing an expression of happiness.

Gillian bit her lip and nodded.

"Happy Halloween, darling," He said, his hand reaching out to caress her forearm.

"Happy Halloween, Cal," She said, searching his eyes.

Cal tilted his head to the side and looked at her again—understanding passing between them as their lips met again, gentler this time, but still underscored by the underlying passion that had been silent between them for years.

As the kiss began to heat up, Gillian slipped her hand in between their bodies and felt Cal through his pants—

Cal gasped at the contact, and his body flooded with intense desire. Smirking, he spoke against her lips, moaning slightly as he began to speak, "Foster, I thought little girls were innocent and trusting." Sex pulsed off his words in waves.

Gillian let out a short laugh, "I do trust you, Cal." She smiled a devilish grin as her hand grasped him firmly, "And I'm not so innocent—" Cal shuddered as he felt her hand around him—his head dipped to kiss her again. She returned the gesture, then, her hand still on him, she smiled and spoke against his lips, "Welcome to the 21st century."

"Welcome, indeed." Cal said, capturing his lips in hers.

Gillian felt Cal's hands travel her body and she wondered precisely how long she'd been waiting for the moment. Deciding to think no longer on it, she returned to the task at hand—Cal Lightman.


A/N: I must say, I'm rather sad to see this story go! Now, for those unfamiliar, the lines Cal and Gillian exchange are from "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown."

Linus and Sally are discussing The Great Pumpkin when Sally expresses doubt.
Linus: "I thought little girls always believed everything that was told to them. I thought little girls were innocent and trusting."
Sally: "Welcome to the 20th century."

Thank you all so much for your reviews for this story! For everyone who said I made their day or brought them out of a bad mood with an update-or that I inspired you to go pumpkin patching or carve pumpkins or watch the movie or eat chili or bake- THANK YOU.

I write for the reviews, truly-so, the gratification y'all gave for this story was overwhelming.

Some of you have asked me about various other holiday stories and my answer is not a yes, but it's not a no. I could be persuaded, perhaps. So, we'll see!:D

I know many of you were looking very forward to this chapter-I hope it did not disappoint.

Drop me one final line before you go?

"If there is a lack of compassion in the world, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other." - Mother Teresa