Right, well, I just thought that the ending of The Canary's Song was not nice. Not nice indeed. So I made my own.

Admittedly it's not that good -Cal and Gillian are hard to write on a normal day, let alone when one of them is drunk- but hey, I just let my imagination run free. I haven't written something in a while and it's been driving me crazy.

So enjoy! And I don't own Lie to Me (if I did, that would NOT have been the way The Canary's Song had ended!)

The alcohol had lowered her guards.

He could see it in her eyes. She had always been hard to read to him, but this time – this time, he actually noticed something. He just had trouble deciphering what it was: the alcohol was clouding her eyes –and her judgment– and he couldn't quite see what was in her eyes. The darkness didn't help either.

But it was different – different than usual. The angry tension between them lately had somewhat dissipated. He had no idea how, because he had not been any better than anywhere in the previous months, but she seemed … nicer. Maybe the scotch really did help.

The space between them grew smaller as they drew closer to each other – another side effect of the scotch, he thought, the usually respectful Gillian Foster was in his personal space– but he did not mind. Why would he ever mind being closer to Gillian?

Maybe she read the sentiment in his eyes, because she smiled. It was a drunk smile, and it was slightly lopsided, but he could see that she was aware of what was going on. She'd never had much trouble reading him. Thankfully he was good at masking himself, or she'd have known all his secrets by now – and maybe run for the hills, too.

But maybe that's what made her so special. She didn't run. She had stayed right where she was and had taken all there was to him, cleaning up his messes – he realized he'd been acting like an irresponsible five-year old.

She shook him out of his thoughts with soft laughter. She was looking at his face with a smile on her face, a genuine smile, one that made her eyes sparkle.

"Why're you laughing?" he asked her in that typical Lightman fashion, drawing his words out just a bit and looking at her with hooded eyes. He knew she liked that – her face always lit up– and this time was no exception.

"You're so funny," she replied, and the way she said it implied she didn't just mean his sense of humour. "We're both so funny. It's just …"

"Funny?" he suggested and she laughed once again.

"Well, if I made you smile and laugh, I must've done somethin' right," he told her and he secretly delighted in eliciting another smile from her.

"This whole thing," she gestured around her and almost lost her footing. She balanced herself by leaning on his shoulders, an entirely too delicious pressure.

"This whole thing… between us," she slurred her words, but her tone was clear. "The finances and the gambling and stuff…"

He suppressed a laugh; coming out of Gillian's mouth, 'and stuff' was a very funny teenage expression.

"Why'd you wanna get my attention so badly, huh?"

He was looking at her, her eyes, her lips, and he didn't reply. He didn't want to waste his reply with words. She was the one who was good with words, not him. He could screw anything up with words. God knew it had happened enough in the past few months.

She didn't focus on him, not right away. She was looking over his shoulder to the glass doors with a thoughtful look on her face, as if those doors had never been more interesting to her – but he knew she was thinking.

"Maybe that's why," she finally said softly, the traces of alcohol suddenly almost gone from her voice. He was amazed; she hadn't even looked at his face, did she know him that well?

He expected her to put up a fight, talk of the line, talk of their business, the employees, but she did not of that. She leaned in to him and diverted her face at the last moment to his shoulder, where she rested it. It was a very different feeling from their last hug, although that had elicited the same excited response in him. He could feel it right now – his pupils would be dilated, his heart beat was a lot faster –though it usually was when Foster was concerned– and he could hear his breathing has become shallower.

He drew her back, holding her by her upper arms.

"Are we okay, then, love?" he asked her, all playfulness gone from his voice.

She looked at him a long time. There was a conflict of emotions in her eyes at first – he could see frustration, nostalgia, arousal –that one made him particularly happy– and many other things that were not as easy to identify. But then her expression changed and one look dominated - happiness.

"We're okay," she replied at last. His face broke out in a grin, and she quickly amended her words. "That is, until you'll run off with the next gang of criminals or get yourself blown up or involved in a mining accident or go off to-"

He cut her off with a finger on her lips. Surprise was in her eyes for a quick moment before she laughed cheekily and drew his finger into her mouth.

Gillian Foster was sucking on his finger.

He wasn't quite sure how to feel about that.

And just as he was about to draw his finger back, she him and released his finger. Stepping closer to him, she looked up at him, then at his lips, and then –

He didn't know who made the first move, but his face was drawn to hers like a moth to light and their lips were touching, and though he considered himself a rather earthy guy, he found himself in heaven.

And he had no intention of coming down.

God, they're hard to write. Internal monologue isn't that hard, but when there's actually dialogue between them - they're the hardest characters to write I've encountered so far. So I hope this was okay.

Oh, and I know I use the dash (-) way too much, but I like it. :-)

Please review! For a girl having a hard week? xD