TITLE: While Your Senses Are Reeling
GENRE: Drama/angst
CHARACTERS: Cal, Gillian (Emily, Ria, Zoe)
PAIRING: Cal/Gillian
RATING: R
SPOILERS: None
WORDS: 9,900
SUMMARY: To some extent his dream was her and this dream was just shattering into all its ugly components right in front of his feet. (Post 'In the Red' fic)
A/N: This story is a translation of one of my older German fics (sorry to everybody who has already read it!). After some requests and very nice feedback from Blacky Kitten and other lovely reviewers I decided to give this a go and share it with a wider audience. Hope somebody out there enjoys it!

i. Touch

He remembered her laughter from earlier this evening and it should have been one of those moments. One of those very special moments that he was somehow hoping for less and less frequently and yet felt more and more often. Moments capturing him, not letting go, pursuing him wherever he went.

In the end, this wasn't one of those moments because the circumstances didn't fit and perhaps he even took a little pride in that.

She remembered his sharp-edged, biting words from earlier this afternoon and it should have been one of those moments. One of those particularly painful moments that drove her absolutely mad and yet ended without any real consequences. Moments in which she should have grabbed her things, stormed out of the door, never looking back.

In the end, this wasn't one of those moments because her loyalty had won over once again and she took absolutely no pride in that.

With those thoughts in mind they both met around midnight, barely visible in the dimly lit corridors of the Lightman Group. Their steps slowed down until they stopped right in front of each other, just a few yards apart, ready to take up their duel of wills.

"Your date with Wallowski over already?" she asked, supposedly nonchalant, but she knew that he would hear the subtleness behind her words. She hoped for it, because she wanted him to know about her hurt feelings. At this time of night there was no hiding, not even here in the half-light.

"I can be quick if I want to," he replied with a shrug and let her make of his words whatever she wanted. No need for explanations.

She didn't waste her breath and remained silent, so maybe the first point in this game was his.

"And you?" he inquired in return, not being able to let go the alleged betrayal. "Cleared out my safe with the last cash reserves, so you can take it somewhere where I can't do any damage?" He pointed to her purse as if she was hiding his most holy crown jewels in there.

For a moment she considered just leaving him in the darkness—wordlessly, callously—but it would have taken her last remaining bit of self-respect. So instead she went right at him until she could see her silent rage reflecting in his unrelenting eyes. She was so close that they were both breathing the same air. He didn't back off, because all of this was far too exciting and apart from that he had a point of view to defend.

No, he didn't back off. Not until her hand marked his cheek with a none too hesitant slap. "Why don't you take care of your own crap?" she hissed as he looked at her confused, trying to classify the pain.

The point was definitely hers this time.

Time went on and on and in the end she had already started passing him by, walking towards the exit. But at some point he snapped out of his rigor and followed her with his gaze at least. "It was only a joke, Foster," he tried to tell himself, but if even he wasn't able to buy this lie, then she wouldn't anyway.

"Oh really?" she replied and didn't turn around, because it was time to put one of those moments she had always fantasized about into practice. "Reasonably funny, Cal."

He followed her with a few shaky steps, but he knew that he couldn't catch up with her or it would only make things worse. And yet he couldn't just let her leave like that either. "Hey, you can't just slap me and then run away like this." The words sounded harsher than he meant them to sound.

She stopped and hesitated. Every step back meant a small defeat and she didn't want to grant him any other point in this battle. But maybe it was time to do something that was long overdue anyway and turn this into a victory for herself. She ended up turning around and opening her purse.

"You're right. And before I forget, here are the papers you can pull an all-nighter with now." She took a few loose slips of paper and threw them on the ground between the two of them. Only slowly they glided down to the floor, building some kind of wall between the two of them that might have been there for longer than thought.

"After all I don't see my name on the wall here anywhere, so it remains a mystery to me why I keep sitting in my office until midnight, trying to find out how the hell I'm going to pay all the salaries at the end of the month. And why I would have sleepless nights because of this. Stupidity, Cal. Stupidity, that's what it is probably."

His brain couldn't decide whether he should look at her or inspect the papers on the floor instead, so he was stupidly lost somewhere in between the two alternatives. It only made her more mad, because in the end it wasn't any reaction at all.

"I'm sick of cleaning up other people's messes and at the same time smiling bravely, because it's what everybody expects from me."

She tried taking a deep breath to not let all the nasty words roll off her tongue, but there simply was no air. No air for her, no air for him, who remained fixed in his place just like a casual bystander, trying to force himself into any reaction.

"You know, the good thing is that you probably won't have to wait until I mess with your finances again. We've probably been through with each other for a long time already, or how did you put it so nicely?" Those were the words after which she could finally turn around again; the words that gave her the necessary strength or maybe just some sort of conviction. Leave it all behind, maybe forever, maybe not.

But those also were the words that finally started his feet moving again, taking him right over the deeply red numbers on the floor, this time faster than she could escape the scene. He overtook her and stopped right in front of her, dangerously close. He grabbed her wrists and pushed her backwards until she felt the cold, hard wall in her back. She was far too angry to be afraid in any way.

"You and I," he growled somewhere between anger and despair, "we will never be through. You know that just as well as I do."

"You said it first and you meant it," she insisted grimly without making the tiniest concession. She would have loved to place a targeted kick right between his legs and free herself from this awful situation with his burning hands on her skin, but maybe she didn't want it just enough.

He breathed heavily for a few times. In and out, in and out. Everything was burning—his breath, his hands, his words, this screwed up friendship they had or whatever it was. There were so many good moments and then there was shit like this.

She wondered what he was going to do and he wondered the same thing. They both got their answer when he captured her lips with his, letting go of her wrists in order to pin her hips against the wall. More gentle, but still with some insistence.

She pushed him back; once, twice. Then she opened her mouth and instead of pushing him further away with her hands on his chest, she started taking some of the fabric of his black sweater into her clenched fists and pulled him towards herself.

She wanted it and at the same time she didn't; and they fought and they clung to each other. Back and forth, anger and despair, affection and desire. And basically, they had no clue what the hell they were doing there.

He put a tentative hand under her shirt and she replied with her own hand seeking for a little heated skin below his sweater. His fingers slowly wandered along her ribcage until they found a resting spot on the small of her back, sending myriads of pleasant impulses through her body. It made her nearly forget everything in an instant.

But she clung to her anger and wouldn't just let it go, not giving him the change to right all the wrongs in just the blink of an eye. All the things he had let crumble for months, maybe years already; there was no way of forgetting. Her fingernails dug into the sensitive skin of his waist until he let out a quiet hiss while at the same time trying to soothe her with the movements of his tongue.

They fought for every tiny bit and piece, and they both knew that just too well. No winner, no loser, just the two of them trying to give some meaning to this mess. A hopeless duel of twists and turns.

His hand on her back gently pushed her away from the wall and eventually he guided her with stumbling steps across the corridor. His kisses never stopping, only silently telling her that he wanted the continuation of this to happen somewhere else.

On their way to his office she took the jacket off his shoulders, forcing him to break the contact of his fingertips with her skin to get rid of it entirely. He used the moment to also help her out of her blazer, which together with his jacket remained on the floor just like a relic of their explosion, while they ended up in his study. Far away from everything and still not detached from it. The smell of smoke lay heavy in the air.

They continued fighting, rid themselves of the last remaining clothes, explored, despaired, melted into each other, and finally found some release in their joint climax. But it remained a fight all along, now and then.

After that they lay so very close together, the sofa actually being too small for the two of them. Breath calm and even again, heartbeat under control, limbs weak and drained. And despite their physical proximity they both felt that there wasn't an awful lot that connected them right now. The gentle pressure of his fingers on her hips drawing small, lazy circles at most.

And the world out there could have come to an end. They both wouldn't have noticed. But maybe, just maybe the end had been here for a long time already. Right here in this room, where he could still remember the feeling of her velvety skin under his tightly gripping fingertips. And where she couldn't forget the sensation of his rough stubble under her angry palms.

And then they both wondered how this could be, when there was actually so much more they felt for each other.