A/N: This story begins at the end of season 3 and will be my version of what might have happened in season 4. I'm not really sure where it is going yet so we shall see where it takes me. Also, rating may change to "M" in the future. Any feedback or ideas are welcome, thanks for reading!

Long after Emily had sidled off to bed, Cal sat on the sofa replaying their conversation in his head.

"Gillian… Do you love her?"

Her question should have surprised him but despite his exceptional ability to detect hidden meanings behind words, he hadn't understood what she was truly getting at.

He had answered without thought, almost automatically.

"Of course darling, of course I love her."

But this response hadn't been what she was looking for, and never one to give up so easily, she tried again.

"No, I mean… really love her?"

When he finally understood the implication behind her words, he had been somewhat surprised, taken aback. Not so much because she had asked him that particular question but because she had brought to the forefront of his mind something he was barely conscious of himself. Even if deep down he had known for a long time that his feelings for Gillian were more than just, well—friendly—he had managed to hide this knowledge quite successfully from himself and up until this point, from others as well.

Her second question had really been the most baffling though.

"What are you waiting for?" She had asked him and as he put one arm over her shoulders, he had tried to think up a viable response.

Besides the fact that he had buried his feelings for Gillian for so long, the truth was—perhaps—that the timing had never been quite right. After all, the circumstances under which they'd met were less than conventional. He had been a patient of hers when they both worked at the Pentagon. In addition to the professional boundaries that were a barrier to any initial attraction he might have had, they had both been married at the time.

So, from the beginning, a romantic relationship with her had been off limits and, over the years, he had continued to think of it that way.

But when had his feelings for her actually changed? When had he begun to desire more from her than just the comfortable companionship he had always so appreciated and enjoyed?

He allowed memories from the previous years to flash through his mind. He could see, through the kaleidoscope of images that flooded his tired brain, all the moments from the years past building upon one another, pushing him ever closer to the present realization that his daughter had brought to his attention.

There was Gillian, in the first days after they had opened the group, excitement dancing in her eyes as she discussed their first case.

There she was again, laughing at his jokes while they blew off steam from a challenging case at the bar near the office.

There she was, a few years later, on the day Zoe walked out on him, sitting beside him with a hand on his shoulder while he drowned his sorrows in a bottle of scotch.

And there she was, standing in front of him and swallowing her own husband's lies while Cal bit his tongue and pushed away his nearly overwhelming desire to protect her.

There she was still, months later, on the day she told him she was getting a divorce and he felt both a deep sadness for her and a flutter of hope inside.

And finally, there she was, just under a year ago, on the day they had acted as a couple when investigating a porn company, and as part of their act, he had kissed her.

Yes, he had kissed her. And his memory reminded him of how ill prepared he had been for the rush of feeling he experienced when his lips touched hers.

He should have known then, as he knew now, that he loved her.

"I don't have an answer for that one, luv" He had replied to his daughter's question.

And it had been the truth. He had no clue what he was waiting for.