[COMING SOON: ETA - 2015] Lie to Me Fic: The Coldest Sky
The Coldest Sky by etoilefilante
beta-ed by tempertemper77 / artwork by devilz_haircut
Cal Lightman/Gillian Foster, Emily Lightman, Eli Loker, Ria Torres, Ben Reynolds, Sharon Wallowski, Zoe Landau, ~80,000 words, pg-13/r
“Gillian. Do you love her?”
“Of course I do, darling. Of course I love her.”
“No. I mean really love her.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, then what are you waiting for?”
“I don’t have an answer for that one, love.”
"Yeah. You're the one that's having a rough night." In the wake of Claire’s death, Gillian is struggling to hold it together. Cal barely has time to offer her the comfort he so desperately wants to before someone from his past has set their sights on revenge. Forced to face the reality of a future that doesn’t include each other, unspoken truths can no longer be denied as the team rallies round in a race against time. The thing is, it all started with their very first case… Post-series multi-chapter. Will be posted once complete - ETA 2015.
P R O L O G U E
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Saturday 10th November 2007
“Miss Foster?”
“Mrs,” she heard faintly in the background. Such a short word to be so badly slurred.
“Sorry,” came the unknown voice once more. “Is this Mrs. Foster?”
“Yes, this is she,” the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up, though she wasn’t quite sure why.
“Mrs. Foster, my name is Tom. I own the The Queen Vic pub on H Street. I have a Cal Lightman propping up my bar, and I think he may be in dire need of a ride home.” A pause while Gillian held her breath. “He said to call you.”
"I'll be right there," came her quiet response and, though no one could see her, she smiled gently as she shrugged on her jacket.
Tom turned to face Cal, hanging up the phone. "She's coming."
"Of course she is," he muttered, feeling sorry for himself. "She always does."
x
Tuesday 8th February 2011
Whispers in the shadows; quiet murmurs of concern exchanged.
“We can’t just leave him with the bottle all night,” Ria sighed, her eyes never leaving the lone form of their boss sitting in his dark office.
“Well I don’t much fancy wrestling him for the drink, do you?” Eli responded, looking at his feet in an attempt to conceal just how useless he felt.
“Come on,” she said quietly, taking a hold of his arm and leading him away. “You’re right - there’s nothing we can do.”
x
Then
He was resting his head atop his crossed arms when she arrived.
“Not so much ‘propping up the bar’ as sliding down it, I’d say,” he heard as her feet came into view beside his bar stool and her perfume fought its way though the fog of whiskey and cigarette smoke that surrounded him.
“Foster,” he mumbled, still not moving position to look at her.
Her gentle hand on his back tracing smooth circles through the knots in his muscles relaxed him instantly.
“Let’s go home, Cal,” she said, tenderly, her hand only ceasing as his head began to lift.
“I don’t have a home,” he retorted, closing his eyes against the pain.
“I do,” she replied, softly, quietly waiting for him to look at her.
“Okay,” he responded. He squeezed her hand briefly as he slid off his bar stool, but refused to meet her eyes; instead fixing his stare on her feet as they lead the way out into the cold night.
x
Now
He took a large swig and revelled in the whiskey blazing a trail down the back of his throat. Not a lot had changed in three years, had it? When things went badly wrong he still hit the bottle.
"That's a habit, Cal," Gillian would always say. "One that can be broken if only you'd give it a chance." He could hear her so clearly it was as if she were standing in front of him.
"Habits, my arse," he slurred, waving his glass around in the air as the amber liquid slipped over the side and ran down his fingers.
"You," he pointed to thin air as tears started to stain his cheeks, "Need to come back."
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T O B E C O N T I N U E D