This was written waaaaay back, during the season two hiatus I believe. Anyway, I found it on my computer and thought I might as well post it now!
Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Who are you
She smiled as she tossed her hair over her shoulder, knowing that he would recognise it as a flirtatious gesture. He did. His fingers brushed her arm lightly, his eyes darkened with arousal, his lip twisted in a smile.
Behind all that, of course, she saw everything else. That he had only come into the bar that night to get a woman. That he was going to take a woman home with him, whether she liked it or not. That he liked to be rough during sex, liked to make them scream, and not always with pleasure. She'd seen it in his predatory gaze, his heightened arousal when a couple in the corner started arguing, and every other subtle gesture, expression and lilt in his voice that spoke volumes to her.
He was licking his lips now, practically growling with desire when she gave him another alluring smile. He wanted a woman, and she sure as hell wasn't going to let him prey on anyone else in the bar. Slipping her hand into her bag under the guise of reaching for her lipstick, she curled her hand around her pepper spray. She had everything she needed.
He watched them, sat at the bar together, and felt his grip on the glass tightening. She was gorgeous, and not in the obvious, tries-too-hard kind of way a lot of women that he knew were. No, she was breathtakingly beautiful, with a deep intelligence about her. So what the hell was she doing with that bastard?
As tempting as it was to let his eyes fixate on her legs, so clearly visible in that short red dress, he forced himself to watch their body language. His body language. His expression, his eyes… He wanted her, that much was obvious, but what man wouldn't? The barman had been eyeing her up all evening, too. But there was something else in his gaze, something predatory. He didn't look like he would treat her well… and she looked like the kind of woman who deserved to be treated like a princess.
Suddenly they were standing up; he helped her on with her jacket, and she was smiling and giggling slightly as she let him slide it over her shoulders. They walked out the door with his arm around her shoulder, and not lightly draped, either. He was squeezing her, pulling her towards him, and they were barely out the door when he stood up, slamming his glass down so hard some of its contents sloshed out onto the table.
"Oi!" They were less than ten feet out the door when he hurried after them; he saw the expressions of surprise on both their faces as they turned towards him.
"Can we help you?" she asked, politely but a little coldly.
He didn't give an answer; not in words. His fist came flying out, and two seconds later the guy was clutching his nose as blood gushed out. "What the…" He didn't even finish his sentence when he was hit again. And again. Then he was on the ground, clutching his stomach as he was kicked over and over.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded, her hands on her hips. She wasn't at his side, though; wasn't tending to his wounds or looking particularly concerned for him. All he saw from her was anger.
"I'm saving you," he said, thinking how stupid the words sounded when he heard them out loud.
"What are you, Superman?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm, and he tried to ignore the fact that she'd somehow managed to make herself look even sexier by being angry with him.
"No, I… he…" How to explain this one? "He was going to do something to you, I don't know… hurt you, or something, he… I could just tell. I can read people, and he was going to…"
"I know what he was going to do, thanks," she said icily, glancing down at the guy. He was still moaning and clutching his stomach, making no attempt to try and get up.
"You knew? You mean…" His brow furrowed in confusion, and she rolled her eyes.
"I knew what he was planning to do tonight. I didn't want some poor woman getting attacked by this bastard."
"So, you… what?" He was still failing to see the logic in her plan.
"I have this," she said, producing her pepper spray. "Which I could use in self defence, when he tried to do something I didn't want. But you, you idiot, just attacked him without provocation. You think the police are going to arrest him now, when he's done nothing wrong?"
"He was going to do something wrong."
She sighed. "Yes, I know, but the police aren't exactly thrilled about arresting people because someone thinks they're 'going to' commit a crime. They pretty much work on the 'already have' basis."
Suddenly the man grabbed at her ankle, and within a second she'd removed the lid and sprayed him squarely in the face.
"Don't touch me then." She stepped away from him, a look of disgust on her face, then back at the stranger in front of her.
"So, you could just tell what he was going to do, could you?"
"Yeah. I can, you know, read people, tell what they're thinking and feeling and stuff…"
"Well, if you're so good at reading people, how come you couldn't see what my intent was?" She raised her eyebrows at him. "You couldn't see that I knew what he was like, that I knew what was going on? That I had a plan? Why not?"
"'Cause you acted your part well, I guess. I don't know," he said, a little defensively. His gaze swept her face, honing in on her bright blue eyes. "Maybe I just can't read you as well as other people."
She rolled her eyes, then looked down at the guy on the ground. All of a sudden, she couldn't help but laugh; a deliciously girly giggle that made her look adorable now, as well as sexy.
"Oh, think it's funny now do you?"
"Wow, you're right. You can read people amazingly well."
He grinned. "Told you."
She shook her head, unable to stop herself from smiling. "Who are you?" she asked at last.
"Cal Lightman. Pleasure to meet you." He stuck his hand out and she took it, still smiling.
"It's nice to meet you, Cal Lightman. I'm Gillian."