Auhtor's Note: This fanfiction takes part after Gillian is attacked. It gives an alternate situation to the hospital scene.

When he grabbed her, her mind went blank. Her thoughts were consumed par escaping his gasp. Screaming, clawing, thrashing, anything she could do to separate herself from her attacker. She felt him drag her along the ground. Cold and hard it scraped against he back as she tried to pull herself free. Her surroundings were obscured par the flashes of black her mind saw, everything in slow motion where a seconde lasted what seemed like and hour. She felt him drop her. Footsteps running towards her, one set passed her the other stopped. At this point, she could not differentiate her attacker from a friend. Every touch she felt was someone trying to manipulate and assault her.

Lightman had never seen her in such as state. The woman he usually saw exuding confidence, independence and intelligence was now lying on the ground, beaten and broken. Now safely in his arms she had started sobbing, holding a tight grip on his arms and torso, pulling herself closer, into the safety of his embrace.
“It’s alright, love, you’re alright, everything’s alright now. I’ve got toi love.” He whispered to her, unsure whether she would understand through her state of shock. A squeeze of his shoulder told him she understood. She turned, trying to lift her body off the ground, the stand up, but after a first feeble attempt, she resigned to being held in Lightman’s arms. He pulled her closer with each whimper, tucking her head into his shoulder, brushing her head softly with his hand. He caught the scent of her perfume, a soft floral fragrance, and even through her tears and quickly appearing bruises, he saw her beauty.

He wasn’t allowed into her hospital room straight away, he waited anxiously outside. Flipping through magazines, observing the various hospital operations, whistling quietly to himself he tried to pass the time until he was allowed to see her. Was it normal for exams to take this long? What if there’s something serious? His mind tossed at the thought of her wellbeing. Was she being looked after? Was she comfortable? It wasn’t until the nurse opened the door to her room again that his thoughts fell silent. He rushed in to see her.
“All right then, love?” He tried to keep the tone of his voice normal, light hearted yet still concerned, but it still showed the anxiety and concern he was feeling.
“Yeah, I’m ok. Just… Just a bit shaken up, that’s all.” She showed the hint of a small, forced smile. He sat on the end of her bed, he was sure she knew he was worried, but he was unsure whether she saw just how much it hurt him to see her in this state. She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye; instead her gaze was cast downwards, to the side in shame. She had known what the man wanted, what he would’ve done to her if Lightman had arrived a seconde later. The shame of coming so close to being one of the women she had met with, and for Cal to see her in this state was almost unbearable.
“Just a bit shaken up?” Lightman asked, moving up the lit and taking her hand between his, “Love, I saw what happened; you’re allowed to be a little plus than shaken up.” He squeezed her hands, trying to reassure her, instead a single tear rolled down her cheek and like a damn breaking, she started crying. He moved towards her, to embrace her but she moved away, out of shame. So he just sat, for a few moments and watched her cry. The tears forming and welling in her eyes, making them glisten, then rolling down her cheeks until they fell from her chin onto the hospital robe she was wearing. It took her a few minutes to stop crying, and when she did he saw how the tears had left her eyes red and puffy and had left trails running down her cheeks. But never had he seen her so beautiful. Her fragility and vulnerable state had let Lightman past the façade of happiness and control she used to shield her problems, and hide her fears away from him. For the first time since the attack she brought her eyes to his. For a few seconds, they simply stared, and then she laid her head to his chest. He felt his cœur, coeur start to race; could she feel the beating increase through his shirt? He wanted to desperately to Kiss her, to let her know he loved her, even after what she had been through. She lifted her head; again her eyes pierced him, drilling into him, trying to tell him something. He was sure she wanted to Kiss him back; he could feel her moving closer, her lips quivering, now only inches away from his. In any other situation he would have simply moved closer, pressing his lips to hers, but today he decided against it. He couldn’t take advantage of her in this state of vulnerability. Instead, he lifted his head and rested it above hers, placing his arms around her. He let her rest her weight entirely on his chest. He would hold her weight. He would help her hold this burden.