lie to me fic: oh, and i'll never be sure (1/1) gillian, cal/gillian, pg-13
Title: oh, and I’ll never be sure
Gillian, Cal/Gillian, season 3, pg-13
Words: 414
Author’s Notes: Thank you to my beta, tempertemper77! Roughly set post-3x05 The Canary’s Song because it once again proved what Gillian is capable of, but really it could fit anywhere.
-
oh, and I’ll never be sure, you say,
there’s nothing we could’ve done
- Trespassers William, Flicker
-
The stale stench of Chinese food gusted down the alleyway, and Gillian turned her head in a pointless attempt to escape it. Flashes of the broken neon sign above her head illuminated her face in millisecond bursts as the shadows fought to claim her.
She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself and asking herself yet again just what she was doing there in the dark depths of the night. Footfalls to her left brought her senses to high alert as she dropped her arms and squared her shoulders.
Gillian clean as a whistle Foster would never have believed she’d find herself here, in a sullied alleyway in the seediest part of town, handing over five big ones to a hand on the end of a needle-holed arm.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” the figure sneered at her, sniffing slightly like a rabid dog and it took all of Gillian’s resolve not to physically recoil. Instead she kept her face a mask of indifference.
“The debt is paid. This never happened.” She wondered, briefly, how she made her own voice sound so foreign to her ears. There was a hardness to her words that she didn’t recognise, a steely disgust lacing every syllable, and a unquestionable finality to that invisible full stop.
“For now.”
She leaned into his space, ignoring the putrid smell of whisky and hoping against hope that it wouldn’t forever stop her from drinking Cal’s expensive single malt again in the future. “Forever. Now get out of my face.”
Her companion chuckled; a hallow, malicious sound but still she didn’t flinch. He started walking backwards, whistling to himself in between his words. “Lightman should keep his dog on a leash,” he called. “Wouldn’t want her to find herself in the wrong part of town miles away from anyone she’d call a friend.”
Gillian reached to her pocket, feeling the pepper spray through the fabric of her jeans and the pocketknife nestled safely beneath it.
She laughed bitterly to herself, trying desperately to cover up the panic, as she realized Cal would never even know she was here.
Fin
Gillian, Cal/Gillian, season 3, pg-13
Words: 414
Author’s Notes: Thank you to my beta, tempertemper77! Roughly set post-3x05 The Canary’s Song because it once again proved what Gillian is capable of, but really it could fit anywhere.
-
oh, and I’ll never be sure, you say,
there’s nothing we could’ve done
- Trespassers William, Flicker
-
The stale stench of Chinese food gusted down the alleyway, and Gillian turned her head in a pointless attempt to escape it. Flashes of the broken neon sign above her head illuminated her face in millisecond bursts as the shadows fought to claim her.
She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself and asking herself yet again just what she was doing there in the dark depths of the night. Footfalls to her left brought her senses to high alert as she dropped her arms and squared her shoulders.
Gillian clean as a whistle Foster would never have believed she’d find herself here, in a sullied alleyway in the seediest part of town, handing over five big ones to a hand on the end of a needle-holed arm.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” the figure sneered at her, sniffing slightly like a rabid dog and it took all of Gillian’s resolve not to physically recoil. Instead she kept her face a mask of indifference.
“The debt is paid. This never happened.” She wondered, briefly, how she made her own voice sound so foreign to her ears. There was a hardness to her words that she didn’t recognise, a steely disgust lacing every syllable, and a unquestionable finality to that invisible full stop.
“For now.”
She leaned into his space, ignoring the putrid smell of whisky and hoping against hope that it wouldn’t forever stop her from drinking Cal’s expensive single malt again in the future. “Forever. Now get out of my face.”
Her companion chuckled; a hallow, malicious sound but still she didn’t flinch. He started walking backwards, whistling to himself in between his words. “Lightman should keep his dog on a leash,” he called. “Wouldn’t want her to find herself in the wrong part of town miles away from anyone she’d call a friend.”
Gillian reached to her pocket, feeling the pepper spray through the fabric of her jeans and the pocketknife nestled safely beneath it.
She laughed bitterly to herself, trying desperately to cover up the panic, as she realized Cal would never even know she was here.
Fin