It was only four words. Four little words. But apparently, they had been the right words to say.

Gillian Foster had always had a gift for words and never more so than that moment. She hadn't even thought about them first; they just came out when she opened her mouth. That's why they were the right ones. Because they came from the heart, from that secret place of the heart that we don't even know exists in us until it reveals itself. And there it was. Unfiltered. Raw. Honest.

Cal Lightman - master of expression. But over the years, Dr. Foster had taught him a thing or three. So he saw the truth behind her eyes as she spoke those four little words. But more than that, he heard it. Heard what she said and what she didn't say and understood all that she meant by it. Really heard it. And he clung to it like a lifeline, like a man drowning. Because, really, he was. This was it: the proverbial defining moment. Sink or swim.

And Cal Lightman began to paddle like his life depended on it. Because it did.

He moved closer to her, leaving scarcely a hair's breadth between them. "I want you to know, Gillian, that I value you. As a business partner, as a friend. As the one person in this whole bloody world - barring Emily - that I trust without question. And that scares the shit outta me. Because if I'm really gonna trust you - I mean, really trust you - that wall? It's gotta come down."

[another brick]

He inched closer to her, as though he needed to occupy the same space as her. She didn't move away, didn't yield any ground because in all honesty, she needed this just as desperately as he did. Wanted it more than she could ever possibly express in mere words.

He went on, leaning ever closer. "I mean, it had a purpose, at one time. A good, respectable purpose. Early on. Like your line. Yeah?" he said pointedly, but not ungently. "We needed it. Then." He continued with a quirk of an eyebrow. "Both married, trying like hell to make a go of it. And then my marriage fell apart. And who was there to help me pick up the pieces? In those first days right after my divorce, who was it was there? By my side - day in, day out - picking up the pieces when I could barely be bothered to get out of bed and dress myself. Who was it kept me going even when I was just going through the motions?" He paused and bowed his head. "I tell you, those were some of my darkest days."

His head still hung low, but he rolled his eyes upward to look at her. "But you know that already. Because you were there, right beside me. For every miserable, soddin' moment of it, you were there carrying my pain. Because I couldn't. And because you love me. Though for the life of me, darlin, I dunno why you do. I don't deserve your loyalty. I don't deserve a friend like you, but I'm awful bloody grateful...that you're still here."

"I'm not going anywhere," she replied tearfully, reaching out to lovingly stroke the scruff on his cheek. His eyes sunk half-closed and he all but melted into her palm.

"All that stuff, you know it. Like I said. But what you don't know...what I could never let you know was..."

"I mean, I was devastated by my divorce. Not to lose Zoë, because, honestly, that had been a long time coming by that point. Mentally and emotionally, we had both checked out months before those papers were ever signed. But it was like, I'd failed Emily. That trust she put in me on Day One, I didn't live up. And that killed me." It hurt Gillian to hear the pain ripping through his voice. Physically hurt her. She ached for him at the realization that he saw himself as a failure. She never saw him that way; to her thinking, he was a fantastic father. He was just the sort of father any kid would be blessed to call 'Dad'. The sort of father she would want for her own children if she could have them.

Cal was oblivious to her musings; he was somewhere else, somewhere far away. And then he looked at her, and she thought that maybe he wasn't so far off after all. Their faces were so close together that she could feel his breath against her skin. She could smell the warm, clean, heady scent of him. And it made her wonder why she ever tried to fight this in the first place.

Cal took a slow, deep breath and let it out. "But even though I was devastated by all that, as it should be - as anyone in their right mind would be...what bothered me even more was that I was one step closer, and that one step didn't even matter. Because I still had to hide the truth." His expression shifted and he leaned back from her a bit to get a better look at her. "What do you remember about me after that? Right after I snapped outta that funk?"

Gillian raised her eyebrows, slightly taken aback by the suddenness of his question in the middle of his soliloquy, and gave a one-shouldered shrug. "It was abrupt. One day, you were despondent and the next, you were...not. You were yourself again," she laughed softly, fondly, "…only more so, if that makes any sense. You certainly took flirting to a new level." She smiled, glancing at him briefly then looking down and away before he could read the truth in her eyes. Because it was right there, right at the surface and not even pretending to hide any longer. And she just wasn't ready to show it yet, so she went on. "There's always been that...thing...we do. But you became incorrigible, shameless. I just chalked it up to your way of mending your wounded pride. So I played along, best I could, which admittedly isn't all that great. But you... You made innuendo into an art form," she finished with a smirk. And in that moment, Cal wanted nothing more than to slowly and teasingly lick that smirk right off her lips.

"Yeah, well, what better way to hide the truth than with the truth? Eh, darlin?" he said huskily, ravenous eyes roaming her face, searching for signs and praying for traces of... Of what?

She saw it then. Her eyes widened, mouth opened to gasp softly, narrowing her eyes slightly and tilting her head a little, studying him. Watching fascinated as she saw more emotion playing over his features than she had ever been privy to. She was half-afraid of the answer ,and so her voice quivered embarrassingly when she asked, "What are you saying, Cal?"

[another brick]

Cal shook his head gently. "Not yet," he muttered cryptically and bit his lower lip before continuing.

"So then came your divorce, right? And I wanted to be there for you, like you had been for me, y'know? To be the kind of friend you deserved. I tried, Gill, honest I did.. But all the while, yeah? While you were hurting and shedding tears, there was me...and d'you know what I felt? Happy. I mean, I felt bad; I hurt for you, for your pain. I did. But there was I, feeling happy. What sort of heartless bastard feels happy over his best friend's divorce? I mean, I always knew I was a miserable sod, but that was a new low, even for me." He looked away but gripped her hands a bit tighter. Like he was trying to anchor himself, trying to prove that she was real and was still there.

Gillian took advantage of his pause to jump to his defense. "Maybe you were just reflecting, Cal. Reflecting what I felt. You know, what was there but not on the surface. Because I was happy. Relieved. Hurt? Yes. Sad? In a way, yes. But also happy. Secretly. And I think you must've seen that, Cal. You always see. Everything." Gillian chuckled ruefully. "Even when I don't want you to. You can't help it. You're the only one, though. You always have been. The only one who can see through even my best defenses."

She licked her lips and went on. "But...I don't know...maybe I wanted you to see that. That I was happy." She paused, unsure that to say next or rather, how to say it. Catching her lower lip between her teeth and glancing at him almost shyly, she said, "Because, you know, I should've been ashamed of that. Ashamed of myself for being happy my marriage was over. But do you know what I was really ashamed of, Cal? I was ashamed that I wasn't ashamed."

"Yeah, we'll, plenty of that to go round, luv. Shame," Cal replied bitterly. "Cos right then, that moment right then when I realised you were happy...that could've been another step. Forward. But what did I do, eh?" When he didn't continue, she realised he was waiting for her to answer him.

"You distanced yourself from me. Pushed me away. It was like…the moment you knew I was happy, you wanted to punish me for it. So you just found better and better ways to twist the knife. Ways named Clara. And Sharon. Hell, even Zoë." She was starting to get angry now, and she spat out each name, her voice getting louder, words tumbling out of her one after the other. "You threatened me over the finances. You put yourself in harm's way. You always did that, but it seemed like you were becoming more purposeful about it, more deliberate." She smirked disgustedly and released an abrupt sigh through her nose. "And I just took it. Everything you dished out, I just took it because I believed I deserved it. Even though it hurt like hell, Cal, that you - of all people - could twist that knife again and again. I felt like it was retribution for me daring to be happy that I was free."

[and then another brick fell. the final one.]

Without saying another word, he lifted his hand to her cup her face, thumb ghosting faintly across her cheek whisper-soft, fingertips twining themselves in her hair. He pressed his forehead to hers and stayed like that, breathing deeply, inhaling her for a full ten count trying to steady himself. Had he thought at the start of that conversation that he couldn't feel more terrified? He had been wrong. So very wrong. Because what he felt now could only be described as abject terror. Cal Lightman had experienced many things, had done many, many things. But this…this was all new ground. Uncharted territory. And him without a map.

Slowly, he raised his head just a bit to look into her eyes.

And for the first time ever - for the first time in their nine-year friendship - Gillian Foster saw something in his eyes that she had never seen before. And it stole the breath from her lungs, and any words she might've been about to speak just died on her lips when she saw it. That thing she had never, ever seen in him before.

Cal Lightman had tears in his eyes. And like the bricks, they began to fall.

And he let them.

He sounded very much like a broken man when he spoke again. "There are not enough words to tell you how very, truly sorry I am, Gillian, for every second of pain I caused you. Because you didn't deserve that, Gill. D'you hear me? You DID NOT deserve that. I had no right to do that to you. A good friend would never do such a thing, the sort of friend which I am apparently not."

"Stop it, Cal! Stop it right there," she demanded fiercely. "I don't ever want to hear those words from your mouth. Ever. Again. Do you understand me?" Her entire body was shaking now. "Because, yes, you hurt me. But I know that came from a place of fear. Objectively, I know that. And I know that it's because we can only inflict the most pain on the people we're closest to." Cal had the good grace to flinch at that and look duly chastised. Her expression softened again. "So even though I'm hurt and I'm angry with you and I want to punch you and push you away just out of spite, I…can't." Saying this, she seemed to deflate and her tears began to roll down her cheeks in earnest. "I can't. Because you have ALWAYS been there for me when it counts. ALWAYS. You've been my rock and my safe place to fall and the only person on the face of this earth that I could ever be this real with. Since Clair's death, you have been there for me in ways I didn't even know I needed. And that, that tells me all I need to know about the value of our friendship." She reached out one tentative hand to touch his face. "And that more than makes up for any past hurts." She let her eyelids sink closed against the tears and because the sweet ache of looking into his eyes was just too much to bear.

As Gillian spoke those words, Cal seemed to come to some sort of conclusion, one that erased the worry lines and fear creasing his brow. He knew what he needed to do. Sometimes, knowing what to do next is half the battle.

Closing the scant few remaining centimetres between them, his face moved closer to hers. He placed a tender kiss first on one closed eyelid then on the other.

"I want to kiss your tears away."

He speaks the next word reverently, in barely a whisper against her lips as though the word that follows next is his life's blood, his oxygen, his air, the reason his heart continues to beat from one moment to the next.

"Gillian."

She never knew her name could sound so beautiful.

And then, it's just happening. He's kissing her softly, tenderly, intimately. It's the way that lovers kiss, and she feels an overwhelming surge of warmth that starts with the almost painfully sweet press of his lips against her and spreads like warm honey through her chest, down into the pit of her stomach, and to the tips of her toes. She's never been more aware of him, of everything about him, every part of him. Every nerve ending in her body is screaming with need and hunger. She feels him start to pull away, and it causes such a deep and unexpected emptiness within the core of her being that she can't suppress the groan of anguish that works its way out of her. She's only had him for a few seconds, but already the threat of his absence, the threat of a break in the physical contact for which she has been starving is just too much to withstand. She gasps sharply against his mouth; and he hovers there, his lips barely brushing hers, and he takes it in. He swallows all the pain, all the fear, all the sorrow, all the love in that gasp. And he knows the time is now.

"I dunno how to love you the way you deserve to be loved, but I promise - I swear to you - I will spend every minute of every day of the rest of my life trying to figure that out. If you'll let me."

Her eyes open, and she swallows hard. "Are you saying... Are you saying..."

"I love you."

It was only three words. Three little words. But apparently, they were the right words to say.

Cal Lightman had never had a gift for words; but in this moment, a lifetime of inadequacy was made whole.

A/N: I just wanted to say thanks to one and all for reading and reviewing, particularly the guests who commented but to whom I can't reply directly. You support and encouragement is vastly appreciated!

Please be sure to let me know your thoughts on the conclusion. Ta muchly, everyone!

BTW, the verb tense shift near the end was intentional. I hated to do it, but for the proper impact, it had to be done.