A/N 1: This (final) chapter picks up right where the last one ended. More A/N at the end of the chapter/story.

Disclaimer: What do you want to hear? Not mine. Still.

Just when Cal tries to lift Gillian up gently, she stirs and groans with pain.

"Gillian?" He shields her face with his body from the rain, the relief that she recovered consciousness overwhelming. That doesn't change the fact, though, that they have to get into the house immediately.

"Cal?" She focuses her eyes on his face. "What happened?" Gillian wants to sit up and fails, raising a hand to her forehead. "Ouch." Only now, Cal sees the blood that was covered by her hair before.

"Got hit by a branch, luv," he explains. "Think you can stand up with my help? We have to get into the house."

She nods, and after a little pulling and lifting on Cal's part, Gillian stands on wobbly legs. Even with her arm over his shoulders and his arm clasping her waist to support her, they rather stumble than walk toward the front door but somehow manage to get inside. Cal has to press against the door to close it, wind and rain trying to follow them like wild animals out to get them. Once the door is closed, the storm is a distant threat, wailing outside, whereas they are greeted by silence and darkness. The power is off.

"We need to treat your wound." Cal leads her to the dining table. Its seats are closest to the entrance. "Just sit down. I'll get the dressing."

The way Gillian sits down without arguing tells him that she has a slight shock and is in pain. He doesn't want to leave her alone if only for a brief moment. Cal squeezes her hand, and she smiles weakly at him in return. It's supposed to be her don't worry, I'm fine smile but she is anything but.

When Cal comes back, he brings some candles and lights them. Thunder and lightning illuminate the room at irregular intervals, and the rain is drumming against the windows. Nevertheless, the atmosphere inside is eerily comfortable. Gillian hasn't moved, her posture rigid. He sits down on a chair next to her, trying to study her unobtrusively as he gets out ointment, bandage and patch, putting it on the table. Cal can't tell whether her silence and tension are merely a normal reaction due to a rather harmless shock and the pain her head wound causes her or an indication that she has severe internal injuries. On any other day, he would take her to the hospital either way. Given the circumstances, he would only risk that in the latter case.

Gillian gazed into space when he came in. When she looks at him now, though, her expression is determined.

"I'm OK, Cal. Just a minor cut. That's all."

Despite his inner tension, Cal has to chuckle.

"Even a head blow doesn't stop you from reading my mind."

This time, her smile almost reaches her eyes but is forced back by the pain. Whatever she says and however she tries to calm him, she is nowhere near being fine.

"Just need to make sure, luv." Her cut really seems to be minor; at least it has stopped bleeding. And despite her laceration, she seems to be alert, coping slowly but surely with the situation. Cal pushes her sleeves up and checks her neck to see whether there are any other injuries he can't see before he attends to her head wound. "Does anything hurt aside from your head? Any problems breathing? Maybe I should check your ribs."

"Everything hurts, Cal. After all, I was hit by a branch." Gillian doesn't even pretend anymore that she is not in pain. Anyhow, Cal takes it as a good sign that she sounds a little annoyed. "But the answer is no. I don't think I have any severe injuries. I can move my legs; I can breathe. I don't have a feeling of sickness. So, I'm pretty sure I don't even have a concussion. I'm just a little dizzy, and my head hurts like hell, but that was to be expected considering what happened. "

"OK, no hospital then. At least not tonight," Cal agrees although he is not completely convinced, his worries still lingering. Out there, when he searched for her pulse and thought he found none, there was a moment, maybe just the split of a second, when he feared she was... "You were out cold," Cal whispers, reliving that awful moment. "I felt for your pulse and couldn't find it, and I thought...," he trails off; there is a lump in his throat. Gillian sees in his eyes what he feared, anyway.

"Oh God, Cal, no, I'm here. I'm here." She touches his face and kisses him softly.

Only when he starts to pull her in his arms, he realizes that she is shivering. She is still wearing her clothes that are even wetter than his because she lay on the ground.

"You are soaked."

Cal helps Gillian off with her coat, but her blouse also is soaked. Therefore, he helps her unbutton it and take it off, too, realizing that she has to freeze even more now.

"Let me get you a shirt. Can't give you mine. It's wet, too."

He is about to stand up when she grabs his arm and stops him.

"Just treat my wound, Cal, so that we can go to bed, and I can get warm. I'd really like to take a hot bath but since the power is off, I don't think this is a viable option tonight."

He takes her looks in, the way she is sitting there in her bra, skirt, high heels and torn pantyhose.

"You're really a sight for sore eyes," he says admiringly as he sits back down. "Very sexy, Dr. Foster."

Gillian has to laugh in spite of the uncomfortable situation.

"Yeah, you know me, always aiming for trashy elegance."

Cal loves that about her. Her unabated sense of humor. Her resilience. The quivering light of the candle illuminates her face. Even with tousled hair and a cut, she is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen or known. Outside and inside. Suddenly, he wonders whether he tells her that often enough.

"You are beautiful."

Gillian can not see the admiration in his face due to the dim light, but she can hear it in his voice, and she blushes. She doesn't know why, however, she is reminded of the weekend after they spent their first night together. The weekend Emily stayed with him, and she told Cal he had to wait for a repeat of their performance because she wanted him to spend time with Emily.

She was true to her word. They didn't meet. Instead, there were phone calls late at night, heated phone calls. It still embarrasses her when she imagines what they said and moreover did during those calls. Anyway, it was no substitute for actually feeling Cal. Not even close. It were only a couple of days, but she wanted him so bad it was bordering on pathetic, and it was so hard to wait. When they came to work on Monday, he didn't even have to ask. It wasn't the only inappropriate encounter they had in the office until now. Yet, it was the quickest, hardest sex she'd ever had in her whole life. It definitely was an office shag, no use to sugarcoat it. Gillian blushes even more.

"Now, that thought," Cal says, pointing at her face. "Remember that when I'll put you to bed in a moment."

"I just thought that I probably don't look very beautiful considering the blood and all," she tries to play it down, only to think better of it and correct herself. "Actually, I thought of the day after that weekend you spent with Emily. You know when we..."

"I know," he interrupts her, stroking her jawline. "Think I could ever forget that? You were so beautiful that day, and you are beautiful now, deserve to be told that you are every day."

This time, Gillian doesn't blush but smiles at him in response, studying him intensely at the same time. It always amazes her how fast Cal is able to switch back and forth between banter and seriousness. Something changes in the air between them because there are other confessions waiting to be made. For a brief moment, he holds her gaze, and she thinks he will say it, but then Cal takes the wet towel he prepared to clean her wound.

"This may hurt a little," he deflects, carefully wiping the dried blood on her face away. Fortunately, the cut is not as deep as it looked at first sight although it will probably give her pain in the next few days. "It's not bleeding anymore. Think a patch will do."

Yes, it hurts a little, or actually, more that just a little. However, the pain the wound causes her is negligible; it's Cal's avoidance play that really hurts. Gillian feels disappointment wash over her. Why won't he say it? If he can't say it in a moment like this, what does it take to make him admit that he loves her? Should she address it? If she asked him whether he loved her, he would say it; she is dead certain about that because she sees his love for her in his face and hears it in his voice. But she never was the type of woman to force a man into a love confession, and she is not about to start now. Not even with him, no matter how much she is longing for him to say it.

They remain silent while Cal is taking care of her wound. When he puts the towel back on the table and applies the plaster, Gillian is fixated on the blood on the towel. Ever since Claire was killed, she can't stomach the sight of blood, especially on herself. It will pass eventually; she knows that. For now, though, it still takes more time. She flinches and looks away.

"Sorry, luv, did I hurt you?" Cal takes off his hands.

"No," she assures him, aware of the irony that it is true but a lie at the same time depending on the kind of hurt. Anyhow, since they are not talking about the kind of hurt she doesn't want to address, there is only one possible answer. "It's just... After Claire's death... I just don't deal with the sight of blood so well at the moment."

Cal pushes the towel out of her field of vision, then hugs and squeezes her, indulging in feeling Gillian's cold, yet smooth, skin despite the situation. He took off his wet coat; his shirt is still wet but has started to dry due to his body heat, and she snuggles into him, trying to keep warm. They really should get into bed – without any ulterior motives. When he feels Gillian breathe regularly, though, Cal is reminded another time of the moment he saw the branch fall and realized he wouldn't make it in time to save her.

"All I could think of when I saw the branch hit you was that I didn't even apologize," he mumbles into her hair.

Gillian leans back to look at him. "Apologize for what? You mean last night? You did apologize for your proprietary behavior."

"Yes, I did," he growls, aware that she obviously accepted his taut I'm sorry as a proper apology. "But I didn't apologize for my double standards, and I took what I wanted."

There is a brief pause before she asks quietly, "You think you have to apologize because you made love to me?"

His contrite gaze sets her teeth on edge. "Maybe I pushed you too hard to let me do what I wanted," Cal confesses.

Gillian takes hold of one of his hands.

"I'm not sure what is going on right now, Cal, but this is nonsense. I wanted it as much as you did, and you know that. Besides, why do you think I decided to come over tonight even if I still was mad at you? You didn't push me to do that. It's because I want to be with you. All the time. Perhaps I ridicule myself when I admit it, but that's what I want. That's what I need. I need to be with you. I...," she stops short of saying that she loves him although she is quite sure he knows it by now, anyway. "Your double standards, however, are a completely different matter," she continues. "But please only apologize if you intend to do something about it and change your behavior. I loathe apologies that are just lip service."

Albeit sitting on a chair, Cal manages to sway in his typical fashion even more than usual. His body language and facial expression tell Gillian that the subject is bothering him. Then he leans forward, still holding on to her hand.

"I apologize for setting different standards for you and myself," he says with a sincerity she has never heard in his voice before. "And I'll try, and that's a promise, not to do that any longer. No more double standards. But...," Cal adds, looking at her in an unconfident, vulnerable way that makes Gillian almost feel bad for him, "...knowing me a bit, I mean, you and I knowing me a bit, I'll probably fail from time to time. So, think I can have a carte blanche for at least some failure?"

Gillian has to smile against her will. He knows how to charm her. This is too serious, though, to let him take the easy way out.

"No," she answers. "No carte blanche. If you fail, and you better make sure this will be an exception and not the rule, you'll have to try harder. I don't want to be taken for granted."

I loathe apologies that are just lip service. I don't want to be taken for granted. Cal can almost hear Gillian say those lines years ago in another life. A life with her ex-husband who apologized again and again for choosing drugs over her and who took it for granted that she would stay with him, anyway. No wonder that this is so important to her.

"OK, no carte blanche," he agrees. "Even if you're really challenging me here. But you're worth it." They both smile. "One more thing though. Never taking you for granted, Gill. Never did."

Some months ago, she would have snorted in response because there definitely were times when he took her for granted and treated her badly, but they talked about that and, again, he apologized and has stuck by his word. Accordingly, she knows that what he tells her here and now is the truth and just nods.

"Thank you."

Cal leans forward even more to give Gillian a little peck on her forehead right next to her cut. When he feels her cold skin against his lips, he is reminded of her state of undressing and that she has to be freezing. It is much too cold to sit here wearing nothing but bra and skirt.

"I think now is the right time to get to bed and do a little warm-up," he states, unable to suppress a grin.

"Why does everything you say has to be laced with innuendo?"

In spite of her cold skin, her velvety voice is teasing, a foretaste of whispered words in the dark. Gillian knows that this tone of her voice turns him on albeit she highly doubts that her head wound will allow them to do more than talking tonight.

"It isn't," Cal answers, wondering whether she is able to see his dilated pupils in the dim light. "Only when I'm talking to you."

The storm has calmed down somewhat, but the power is still off. They took the candles to Cal's bedroom and got to bed with the intention to snuggle up to each other and fall asleep, but then Cal started talking about making her feel better. They stopped talking so that he could suit the action to the word, and he kept his promise and actually made her feel better, much better indeed, save that her headache is worse now.

"This time, you have to apologize for pushing me too hard to let you make love to me. My headache is killing me," Gillian complains.

"So, you say, I didn't make you feel good?" Cal claims innocence.

"I didn't say that." She stretches herself to kiss his neck and rests her head on his shoulder. "I'd never say that."

"Sorry, luv," he mumbles, anyway, pulling her even closer and kissing the top of her head. And suddenly, it's there on the tip of his tongue. All he has to do is open his mouth and set the words free. "You know that I love you, don't you?"

Gillian freezes in his arms and sits up slowly. He sees the boundless joy in her face because of his declaration, but there is something else.

"Oh no," she says, shaking her head. "Not like this. You can't say that for the first time and not look at me. Say it again."

"I love you," Cal repeats without hesitation. She is right; this feels so much better, saying it to her while she is looking at him like this.

"I like the sound of that," Gillian says hoarsely, tearing up. "One could almost say I love it." She swallows. They both know she is trying to work up the courage to tell him the same.

Cal strokes her arm, drawing lazy circles on her skin that has eventually gotten warm. "Look, Gill, you don't have to say it. I know that you..."

She puts her fingers against his lips to interrupt him. "I want to say it, and I want you to look at me just as I looked at you." She swallows again. "A few weeks ago, I thought I'd never say that to a man again, but here we are, and I love you, Cal." Gillian tears up some more. "I love you." Now, that she said it, she doesn't seem to be able to stop.

He pulls her back in his arms, and they kiss. Cal tastes the salt of her tears, her soft lips and simply her.

"Now we got that out of the way, maybe your headache will get better," he says, feeling Gillian's body vibrate when she chuckles.

"Maybe you'll have to repeat it now and then," she mutters drowsily.

It doesn't take long until Gillian has fallen asleep in Cal's arms despite the tumultuous day that included being knocked out by a branch, a heart-to-heart conversation and love confessions, let alone her laceration and headache.

There is one thing Gillian Foster doesn't know about Cal Lightman. He told many women that he was in love with them but before he told Gillian just moments ago, he only told one woman that he loved her. His ex-wife. Zoe. For Cal Lightman, the declaration of love means forever (if it works out as planned, but that's what second chances are for, aren't they?).

So, there's another thing Gillian doesn't know as yet. There is a ring in his nightstand; he intends to propose to her soon. Something tells him that he knows her answer even if she for sure doesn't expect something like that. Not that soon, anyway. But why wait? What for? After all, he hates her last name that constantly reminds him of her ex-husband, and perhaps she will agree to change it. Gillian Lightman. Cal likes the sound of that. He will learn to be less possessive; most likely he will fail, and then he will try again. For the rest of their lives.

For tonight, though, Cal only plans to keep her warm and safe.

Life is not made of what ifs. Life is yes or no, do or omit, win or lose. Life is never maybe. Maybe is a life on hold. A life that is waiting to be lived.

There are still a lot of what ifs in Cal's and Gillian's life. The biggest of all being what if this doesn't work no matter how hard they try? Then again, what if it does? There was no right moment. They took the risk, anyway, and stopped pretending. It was painful and cathartic, but moreover it was worth it.

Yes or no, do or omit, win or lose. That's all there is. It's no use to keep waiting for the right moment. There will never be the right moment. The moment you decide to take the risk and stop pretending is the right moment.

The end

A/N 2: I'm completely prepared for your insults because I announced their wedding (or at least his proposal) but ended the story here. Believe me, though, when I tell you that I can't write that. I'm just not good at writing (overly) romantic stuff. So, their love confessions and the glimpse at their future are as romantic as I'm able to be/write (at least for now). Yet, I wanted to give you the prospect that there will be a "happily ever after" for Cal and Gillian.

Despite being a story about fictional characters, writing this story was very personal, especially the first and last part about what ifs and taking chances. It's interesting, how writing in one way or another always reflects real life (although often on a subconscious level). And because some of you asked: Yes, I intend to write more LTM/Callian stories and will do that as long as the ideas keep popping up in my head and my muse is cooperating.

That being said, THANK YOU SO MUCH for your support, for reading this story in the first place but even more for sharing your thoughts with me and listening to my ramblings. Of course, I'd really like to know what you think about this last chapter.

Love you, guys and the LTM fandom. Take care, Cee