Tag! You're It!

"Again, Cal! Really?"

Gillian Foster threw the blue file onto the desk where Cal Lightman sat. His feet were crossed at the ankles and rested on his desk. His hands were folded neatly in his lap.

"You sneaky devil," Cal diverted her death stare. "You've been into my safe again."

Gillian's hands flew from her side. "You could have at least used a different file folder."

"You could have at least stayed out of my safe."

"You never changed the combination code."

Cal cocked his head and pursed his lips. "Good point, Doctor."

Gillian stared at him for a time. Finally her brow furrowed. "Don't divert this Cal Lightman. I am seriously pissed off with you."

Cal nodded and uncrossed his legs, resting them back on the floor. He slapped his knees and stood. "And I can see that darling but I'm not sorry."

"Sorry?" Gillian crossed her arms in front of her, inhaling deeply. "This is going beyond just a little apology, Cal. How long have you been looking into him?"

Cal began to move around his desk. "How long have you been seeing him?"

Gillian raised an eyebrow. "3 months."

Cal nodded; his lips puckered. "Right. 'Bout 3 months, then."

"3 months." Gillian repeated.

Her hands flew to her hair. Frustrated, she grasped her neck, massaging her tight muscles. Cal did not move toward her. He stood still; a satisfied nod shaking his features.

"Well," Cal began, breaking the silence. "He's no good for you, Foster. Too squeaky."

"Squeaky. Is that so?"

"So." Cal inhaled. "And he smells bad."

"He smells bad."

"He's got this real knack for being a mooch. He's a sucker."

"A mooch and a sucker."

Cal motioned toward her with palms open. He took a step forward. "You know, for a psychologist, you're doing a real crappy job with this whole conversing thing."

Gillian took a step forward meeting him face-to-face. "You think that maybe it's because I'm trying to do everything in my power right now, not to tear off your head."

"Ooooo!" Cal leaned back balancing on his heels. His face lit with excitement. "You see? Right there? That's the fire, the spunk that you're not going to find with this new guy."

"I won't, will I?"

"Nah." Cal smiled. "He's never going to know the real Foster. I mean the man can't even get your breakfast order right?"

Gillian's face turned hot; tension rising. "You followed us for breakfast?"

"He doesn't know your flowers. Can't get your pizza right." And off Gillian's scowl. "The man can't even open the car door for you." Gillian blushed, looking away from him. "And we all know how much you like that stuff, eh Gill?"

"Back off, Cal." Her eyes brimmed with tears.

"What?"

She took a step toward him. "Back off."

"You know what you need, darling?"

Gillian stayed motionless.

"You need some snoggin' and shaggin'." Cal looked her over and shook his shoulders, his arms flapping loose. "You're all tense."

Gillian clenched her teeth. Her eyes were dark; threatening.

Cal's face began to flush, he inhaled quickly. "I mean. What's he gonna do when you finally reveal all your little fetishes, Foster? He's gonna run for the hills. Especially when you pull out the gag and rope."

The motion was quick; all a blur to Cal. A hook from the right making perfect contact with her intended. Cal fell backward after receiving the blow, only regaining his balance at the last minute. Gillian shook her hand.

"Damn," she said shaking her hand. She looked down at her knuckles as her hand trembled.

Cal looked at her cautiously and smiled. "I was expecting the slap."

Her eyes widened. "Surprise."

Cal exhaled quickly and took a step back toward her. He rolled his jaw, attempting to regain the feeling there.

"So, no gag then?" He stood in front of her now; close enough to feel her breath on his skin. "High leather boots? A whip?"

He was quicker this time, and greeted her open hand, holding her wrist. She tried with her other hand. Again, he caught her wrist. She inhaled quickly, closing her eyes for only a moment, which was long enough for him to press his weight against her, pushing her against the nearby wall.

"Did I strike a nerve, love?"

"What would make you say that?"

"You're shaking. Body temperature is high. Cheeks are flushed; lips pouty."

She smiled nervously through clenched jaw. "Let me go, Cal."

"Are you going to hit me?"

"Are you going to continue to invade my privacy?"

"Quite possibly."

"Well then, there's the strong likelihood that I could hit you."

He searched her face, looked into her eyes, "Could, eh?"

She nodded.

"Well then," he said. "I do believe I'll take my chances."

He leaned into her pressing his body against her. His lips were on her instantly finding her lips. She tasted sweet and inviting. She tasted like candy and he wondered what she had just consumed to make her taste this good. Which one of her favourite sweets she had recently indulged in.

She attempted to pull away from him, finding nothing but wall behind her, his lips in front of her; her hands still bound by his grip. She twisted her hands in his grasp but her attempts to free herself were useless. He only held her more tightly.

Cal pulled from her, his face flush, eyes wide with excitement. He said nothing and looked into her, saw the fury which ran thick across her brow. The embarrassment that plagued her features.

"Are you finished?" she asked him, caged fury seeping into her words. She rolled her wrists in his grasp.

Cal exhaled quickly, his face going slack. His sights traveled the length of her. "Well..." he began, his mind wandering, hungry hands which lingered on the soft flesh of her lower back. He inhaled. "Yeah. I'm done."

"Can you let me go now?"

He cocked his head. "Are you going to hit me?"

"Yes," she nodded; spoke in monotone. "Most definitely."

Cal looked up weighing his options. "All right." Slowly he removed his hands from her wrists and took a quick step backward.

He expected her fists to fly at him, expected the rage to flow from her, but Gillian Foster only stood tall and adjusted her shirt.

She did not meet his gaze, and instead reached forward to pick the blue folder from his desk.

"You really are a jerk, Cal Lightman." She took a step toward him. Mockingly, he took a further step back.

"Dr. Lightman," he corrected. "And I'm fully aware. Been told that one before."

She sighed and tapped the folder with her index finger. "You're just a kid on the playground with a crush and you have no idea what you're doing."

"You're still here, aren't you?"

She ignored his statement.

"You hide behind your work, 'the name on the door', as you so graciously refer to it. You hold it over everyone's head because you're too afraid to let anyone in. You're too afraid to admit you need help; that maybe some of us can do this better than you. And you're so distracted by this game you're playing, that you don't even see the big picture."

"And what's that?"

She stood taller now, completely in doctor mode. "That everyone here respects you; wants to learn from you. That everyone wants to be here."

He took a small step toward her. "And you want to be here?"

Gillian shifted her weight. "We all want to be here, Cal. If not, some of us would have left years ago."

"Just a kid on the playground, eh." He looked up at her slowly. "With my playground crush."

"Exactly. It's sad really. it's so painstakingly apparent that you get a kick out of this game, that you forget the obvious truth."

"Which is?"

"That all you ever had to do was ask."

"Ask?"

"Plain and simple."

Cal racked his brain; mulled over her words. He licked his lips; he could still taste her and this brought another smile to his lips.

"Is this about the folder?"

Gillian sighed, took a step around him and walked toward his office door. "You really can't stop, can you?"

"'Fraid not, love. Not with you."

She turned to him pointing a finger. "And that's why this will never work."

"No," he said shifting his weight. "This will never work because you seem to be spending your time with low grade, losers, who don't have the passion to stand next to you. They're not worthy."

Gillian put one hand on the handle to his office to exit. "Marcus was not a low grade, loser. And I'll spend my time with whomever I choose, at whatever time of my choosing. It's my life, Cal."

Cal stood twitching, nodding his head. Suddenly he froze; his heart beat hammered into his head. "Marcus was?"

"We split up three weeks ago." Gillian threw the file to the floor at his feet, its contents spilling out. "Funny. I couldn't find that information in the file." She opened the door quickly. "I suggest you revise your tactics, Dr. Lightman, or this might be the last thing you see."

And with that, Gillian turned, leaving him standing stock still; his jaw clenched, hands sweaty at his side. He studied her as she turned the corner, hips swinging.

Slowly, lines tightened on his face; a sly grin began to form.

"Game's on, Doctor."