Walking on Thin Ice: Chapter 12

The ride home was predictably quiet. Mike didn't seem too apt to discussing anything anymore, and Gemma wasn't exactly jumping at the gate to get his opinion on anything at that point in time. He was, in fact, in deep thought. As if contemplating asking her exactly what the party was going to be like and when he needed to drop her off was far too complicated to sort out, he kept turning to look at her, intent on his face. It quickly melted away when she turned a hopeful gaze to him; this almost irked Gemma more than the silence itself.

"Are you sure you're okay?" She asked as he ran a hand over his head and tugged impatiently on his hair.

He shrugged a shoulder and stretched his wrist. "Just thinking."

She could clearly see he was almost uncomfortable in front of her suddenly, and she even found herself sitting straight up, legs together and hands clasped across her bag. With a soft snarl, she let her legs flail apart slightly, her shoulders slouch, and her back arch slightly in a relaxing way. Mike glanced at her when she had suddenly dropped into this pose and stared at her.

"What?" She asked, exasperated.

Shrugging, Mike returned his eyes to the road. "Just looking at you."

Gemma sighed loftily. "Just doing everything but talking."

He turned to her as they rolled to a stop in front of her house. "You want to the God-honest truth, do you?"

With a hidden grin, Gemma nodded. "Yeah! I'm afraid I broke you or something-"

"You didn't break anything." He interrupted.

"Well, what the hell did I do?"

He was turning red again, though he had kept her eye contact dutifully through her little rant. "It's just that I wasn't expecting anything close to that, and I really don't feel like I'm being fair to you if I were to do what I wanted to right now. If you hadn't stopped where you had-well, let me put it this way: I've been where I thought I'd be and I've lost what I never thought I'd have. Now that I'm starting all over again, I feel about eight years old. You feel about twenty to me, and here we are dancing around each other like we're walking on thin ice. It's not fair because all I can think about is you at this point.

"All my time and energy that I haven't already sold to BBC has been put into this and I'm still afraid to touch you. You go and pull a crazy stunt like you did today and suddenly I'm twenty-six again. Gemma, you really have me up in a twist here. That's what's been bothering me, of recent." He concluded, setting his right hand pointedly on the wheel of the car.

Gemma stared. "I'm sorry,"

He waved it off. "I'm not reprimanding you; I have no place or authority to do that."

"Come in for a moment," she said suddenly. Mike looked up and frowned, wondering if what he had said hadn't sunk in at all.

"Gemma, I can't do that."

"Sure you can, it's not like you don't have any self-control. You come in, we do some senseless teenager thing and you leave eight again. Fair?" She seemed to by trying to help.

Squinting slightly, Mike allowed himself to be pulled from the safety of the car. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

"I have cards, I have board games, I have a television. I also have records, guitars, and drums. We young rapscallions will find something to do."

He laughed gratefully as she pulled him inside and locked the door behind them. They took off their shoes and walked into the living room, talking animatedly like they used to do before either of them had reached the point discussed in the car. In truth, Gemma had seen a great deal of logic in Mike's testimony, and it too had sort of frightened her when she had realized that she was tempting him and he hadn't a clue what he was going to do with himself. She hadn't realized what exactly would happen from the interlude, but she knew that the treatment needed to happen immediately and she felt as close to comfortable she could get with him at that point, so she went for it. Now knowing that he had been sort of thrown into a situation he'd left behind him a while ago, not necessarily intentionally, she felt like she needed to restore their former relationship to where it had been.

"So, what two-player games do you know?" Gemma asked, shuffling a small deck of cards skillfully.

Mike sat cross-legged on the rug before the television set and struck a thoughtful pose. "Um, well, there's always Speed-"

"Ugh, I hate that game! We should teach Zilla to play Euchre." She said jokingly.

"Euchre?" Mike asked, frowning at the name.

Gemma nodded. "Yeah, while I was in Michigan and Vermont I learned how to play this game called Euchre. It's a lot of fun, but you need a least three people to play, preferably four."

Mike grinned. "I know just the two to join us."

~~~~~~(A ten minute transition)~~~~~~

Eric scratched his head. "So, I lay a heart now?"

Gemma peered over his cards. "No, that heart would be a diamond because diamonds are trump and that's the Bauer."

Terry giggled and kicked Mike under the table. "Psst! Eric's got the jack!"

Grinning, Mike imitated Terry's giggle. "I know, shhhh!"

Gemma rolled her eyes and let her hand drop from Eric's arm. "Alright, Terry. You're my partner and diamonds are trump. Eric laid a spade, what shall I play?"

Terry shrugged as Gemma laid down an ace of diamonds, successfully taking the fifth trick and winning the game. They shuffled around the table, grinning good naturedly as Gemma repartnered herself with Eric this time, winking as he nervously sat down and Mike dealt the cards as she had taught them.

Eric had begun to get a hold of the game, but unfortunately so had Terry and Mike. Just as they were figuring out that the game could go dirty with simple winking gestures or taps under the table, the whole game was filled with accusations and playful cursing.

Most unexpectedly, Gemma's doorbell rang at six o' clock.

They all looked up at Gemma, who sat with a very confused look on her face. "I have a doorbell?"

Mike laughed. "Not that I know of."

She ignored the laughs around the table as she got up and pulled open the door.

"Noah, what are you doing here?" She let him in, however confused she was.

He peered around the corner and was surprised to see three men sitting around her table, talking quietly and ignoring the possible conversation in the entryway. "Who're they?!"

As if on cue, they all turned around and stared as Gemma scowled at her cousin. "They are some friends of mine."

Eric cleared his throat and pointed a few times exaggeratedly to Mike who was acutely unaware of the gestures.

"Oh, and the one that's being jabbed at is my boyfriend." Gemma added calmly.

Mike stared with wonder at the man she was standing next to. Had she been lying? This was almost an exact replica of Gemma, except of the male persuasion. He was also at least four inches taller, his hair was the same straight texture, though Noah's was blonde, eyes the same blue, and shape of his face were all the same. They were obviously related closely, but this was Noah, and that contradicted her saying that all her siblings' names started with the letter "S."

"You gave Doug quite the scare. He called me up and told me to check out this guy here," he also jabbed a finger at Michael. "But now he doesn't believe me when I say he isn't a convicted sex criminal and is presently at my flat in the club."

Gemma's mouth filled with dirty words. Even Eric, who was known to have quite the nasty vocabulary when in an unpleasant situation, was impressed by her string of bad language. Even after the worst was over, Mike wouldn't have liked to have his mother in the room to hear her go on.

"What the hell is he thinking? Didn't I tell him not to come? The shithead, I'm going to blow his bloody brains out, lemme at him!" She ended with a tremendous intake of breath.

Noah caught her expertly. "He's going to show up at the hospital tonight, if you don't show up he'll miss you. In fact, if I don't leave soon he'll be suspicious. Give me a loaf of bread and he won't be all that suspicious..."

With still seething rage, Gemma fetched a loaf of bread from her kitchen and huffily handed it to him. "Here. And I'm not avoiding the hospital tonight. He hasn't seen me in seven years, I'll be fine."

Noah shrugged. "His death and yours, I suppose."

During this little expedition, Terry and Mike had crept off to the basement to give Gemma some privacy, but Eric had remained, keeping his eyes aloft and ears tuned out. She sat down and almost didn't see Eric sitting there, twiddling his thumbs. She took a deep, shaky breath and tried not to cry as she thought of her brother, probably married by now, suddenly being cut out the way she had. They would have each other, she supposed. This made her want to cry even more, and she let out another shaky breath. Eric stood up and pulled his chair over in front of her, laying a hand across her gingerly.

"Hey, wanna talk about that?"

She looked up gratefully into his eyes. "That was my cousin, Noah. Apparently my brother has come searching me out because Noah told him that my fiancé died and I'm dating again. Now he wants to make sure Mike's not a creep and I'm alive." She rolled her eyes.

Eric's voice was soothing as he ran a hand over her hand. "So, what's the big deal with a visit? Are you mad at your brother?"

Gemma snorted. "No. He's not supposed to talk to me anymore. Parents decreed that when I was seventeen."

"Why would they do that?" Eric pressed softly.

She looked at him hotly, not anger or annoyance, simply hurt and sort of discomfort. "I made a stupid decision as a kid and as a result they kicked me out of my own home. My family of nine other kids were told never to talk to me or seek me out again. I moved across the country and haven't spoken to any of them in seven years. If they were to talk to me, they'd most likely be exiled like me."

"What did you do? Or don't you need to get it off your chest?" Eric's voice was soft and comforting.

She turned dark eyes to the wood table. "First let me clear something else up. I did not meet Jonas at the hospital. Doctor Jameison thinks I did because it's where we were first seen together. Really he broke his finger and I was on call when it happened. Nasty break, had knocked himself out, but it was my boyfriend. So I get him to the hospital, and two weeks later I'm marrying the guy. Nobody asked questions, and I didn't bother to clean up rumours."

"Alright, fair enough." Eric nodded, not pressing her, though slightly worried how she had side-tracked herself.

Still, she continued, needing to get it off her chest. She had never really told anyone before. Eric seemed like a nice guy she could confide in, even Gemma not quite wanting Mike to know exactly what she had done so early in her life.

"So when I was seventeen and in my public high school boys and girls school prom, I met my friend's older brother. Actually, the friend was more of a crush, and the brother was like an adult version of this crush of mine. He actually had taken a liking to me, the brother. I was infatuated early on, but not allowed to date. So we dated in secret all summer, and three days before my parents shipped me off for Oxford, the first in my family to go to Oxford, they found me and Jonas in the basement. They didn't just catch me with a guy, either, they caught me after having pre-marital sex. They tossed Jonas out on the lawn half-dressed and wrote me a check for the rest of my schooling.

"I came back a few days later in the dead of night to collect my things. From my older brother Doug I gathered that I wasn't allowed to talk to them ever again, because they were supposed to act like I had never existed. Jonas and I packed up, left, and never looked back. I spent the rest of my college years in his dorm, or house, flat, at one point a van. To make this story shorter, I'll just say that I haven't seen anyone in my family besides my cousin in seven years and I think if my parents ever found out that I had, they'd be in the same situation as I am."

Gemma sighed loftily, trying to keep her eyes from spilling over with unshed tears. Surprisingly, instead of the reaction she had expected from Eric, she had gotten something entirely different. She had suspected a sort of disgust and dislike of her, she expected him to run off and tell Mike all about her and demand he break up with her immediately. Instead he lifted his hand up and tilted her chin up to look him in the eye.

"You're a great girl, Gemma, you're family shouldn't have done that to you. You deserve more than this." He sounded sympathetic and slightly angry.

She blinked, letting her tears finally flee their cages. "I didn't think it was stupid, if that sounds even close to sane. I mean, I knew when I was seventeen that I wanted to marry him, otherwise I would not have made the decision I did. They must have thought I was just being a rebel."

Eric sighed. "Parents tend to be the extremes of the strict spectrum. Either they choke-hold you or they don't give a damn what you do."

Nodding, Gemma allowed another tear to shed. "Ten kids, and I'm the outsider. Always have been. Only one in my family's particular division that doesn't have a first name that starts with an 'S.'"

"Didn't you say your brother's name was Doug?" Eric asked gently.

"Stanley Douglas Thompson Jr. Mum didn't like having to scream to both of them, so he was dubbed Doug early on." She explained.

Eric nodded. "Ah, I see. Sorry about getting sidetracked..." He grinned weakly, trying to cheer her up just a little bit.

She didn't smile. "Stupid Doug, he's going to end up like me. And stupid me, because now Mike's going to think I'm just a stupid girl!"

Ever comforting, Eric shook his head again. "Mike doesn't judge people. Besides, it sounds to me like your family is a little crazy. They over-reacted just a bit too much. If they weren't just a little over the edge already, I bet they would have had your Jonas all caged up for rape and you grounded for six years."

Gemma pouted her lip. "They always were over-reacting to little things. This wasn't little at all, but they still went overboard. I shouldn't be exiled for Christ's sake!" She paused. "What am I going to tell Michael?"

Eric sensed her tears starting up again and threw an arm around her shoulder. "You act like Mike hasn't ever made mistakes. It's not my place to tell you what sorts of things he's done, but they've been illegal, immoral at some parts, and quite brash. It comes with college and the rest of us, I suppose."

"Sex is something that can cause people to become quite the hypocrite." Gemma muttered.

Gravely, Eric looked Gemma in the eye. "Don't tell Mike I told you this, but his wife was pregnant when she was killed. He's never quite forgiven himself for it; her pregnancy or her death. She was in a lot of pain all through the whole thing, back aches and such, Mike was like this slave to her, scurrying around and trying not step on her toes. Mike may have not gone out of order like you, but I'm sure that a few things he's done when I've known him he'd rather not let you know either."

She sighed. "Thanks, Eric, I needed to tell somebody that."

He smiled at her warmly. "If I can be honest with you, Gemma?"

It was more of a comment, but Gemma nodded.

"I'd really like to see you and Mike keep together for a long time. He's much happier now that you've stepped in, and I know the others would agree that he's happy because he's got you. Mike was out of it; I was worried he'd never talk to a woman again. Now that he is talking, to you, he seems much more happy. I don't mean to repeat myself so much, but I do want to make sure you realize that the man likes you. I'm not sure how much, but I don't think he knows either. Just know that we all like you, and by we I mean the rest of the Pythons." Eric smiled again, running a hand over her cheek softly.

Gemma blushed slightly. "He's a wonderful guy, I like him plenty."

Eric snorted. "Afraid to say it?"

"Say what?"

"You love him."

Gemma blushed again. "I-well-I couldn't say that just yet."

He looked away and then back to her. "Maybe not to him, but as long as I'm your confidante, do you?"

She turned a harsh glare to him. "It's hard to say that you love someone to anybody after you lose someone else you love, no matter how much you love the person."

Eric's face fell. "I'm sorry, Gemma."

She shrugged, shaking off a slightly angry look. "Just know that if I do ever admit to myself or to him that I love him, it's going to take a long time."

Terry's head poked around the corner. "Is the war over?"

Gemma laughed softly, face still red from her tears. "For now, come on up."

Mike walked around the corner and up to Gemma immediately upset she'd been crying. "What did that stupid git say to you?!"

She glared at Eric as if he really had done something wrong. "He told me I was fat!"

Mike turned a fake glare on Eric as well. "I'll thump him good, I will."

Giggling, Gemma clutched onto Mike's arm, her conversation with Eric the farthest thing from her mind. His wrist, without a cast, slipped much easier around her waist as she tried to spin away, fingers digging into her side and causing her to fall to her knees and scream pathetically while he tickled her. Terry shook his head as Gemma gave up and flopped onto her back to skid away. She grabbed a record and held it over her stomach protectively.

Mike took the record from her and put it in the phonograph, turning it on and ignoring the fact she'd shimmied away completely. A loud guitar lick began, taking Eric and Terry by surprise. The unmistakable sound of John Lennon's voice rose up over the guitar and announced that twenty years ago that day Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play. Gemma burst out from the basement door holding her red stained acoustic guitar and case, looking at Mike curiously as he did a sort of American football victory dance. Placing the instrument in her case, Gemma threw another look at Michael.

"Party's at seven, it's through ten if you want to stick around!" She shouted over the music.

Mike nodded. "Sounds like fun, but why is it at the hospital?"

Gemma cupped her hands. "We're going to be on volunteer hours so we can use the doctors' lounge, but at least six or so of us will go missing from lack of personnel during the festivities. If you show up, pretend to be a brain surgeon or something."

Terry picked up the needle and smiled as the silence covered the small room. "Ahhh, better."

Mike continued to dance.

"Please, Mike, stop that." Eric turned away, disgust on his face. Gemma laughed and threw her guitar case onto her couch.

"Alright, I'm going to change my shirt and then we can all go." She said to the group, not really thinking about why she couldn't just walk the other two men out.

Mike glanced at his watch. "Yeah, I need to let the dog out before we go anyway."

Eric and Terry exchanged bemused looks, though they didn't dare say anything.

Gemma exited and reentered quick enough, a white blouse and v-neck pastel yellow sweater pulled on over her plain blue jean bellbottoms and infamous purple sneakers.

"You gonna stick around at the party?" She asked, pulling her jacket on.

Mike shrugged. "I'll decide when we get there. If I can pull off being a pissed brain surgeon I'll do it."

She rolled her eyes. "No alcohol in the hospital other than the medicinal kind."

"Oh, damn."

They all shimmied towards the entryway, anxious on leaving and all very pleased. Gemma stopped Eric as Mike pulled his shoes on. She reached up slowly and hugged him around the neck, whispering a thanks into his ear. He hugged her back gently, trying not to attract any attention to the act of kindness. She kissed his cheek and turned to help Mike squirm out the door while she fished a key out of her pocket.

Eric smiled and shook his head. "Nuptials or no, they're already married!"
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The party was as fun as it could have been, Gemma thought. Except for Mark Henderson being called out in the middle of a toast again, it was near flawless. Mike had decided to stick around and be her bodyguard to some respect. Her brother never did show up, and she had even gotten the chance to dance rather than provide the music. She and Mike hadn't cared that there were whispers to follow them wherever they went, and neither of them seemed too concerned with the future at that point. Living day to day was just fine with both of them.

With the money both she and Jonas had accumulated over the years, Gemma was able to finally pay off the mortgage on her home, and now she legally owned it. Her lawn was looking sickly as it always did at that time of the year, and she dreaded the oncoming snow. There was always that week or so in January or December that held low temperatures and lots of snow which meant more calls to the hospital and general uneasiness on the roads. It was near eleven thirty when the head doctor of the hospital, Doctor Dickinson walked in and smiled on his employees.

He had only wished they be on call and ready before gesturing for Gemma to start up a song on the guitar she clutched weakly. She started up a beat that was sort of lilting and odd, the chords thumped on the off-beats of the entire introduction. Soon enough she burst into the words, a few of the people standing up grabbing partners and dancing. Mike, with a few puppy-dog looks from Gemma, sang the second verse of "Stand By Me." He was received with heavy applause and a few pats on the back. Jameison had insisted on trying to play a song or two, thus freeing up Gemma's hands and feet for her own dancing. Co-workers smiled warmly at the couple as they swang by in a wild polka to the slow song, stopping several times to suddenly tango in the opposite direction, purposefully bumping into other employees and never glancing back to see if the victim was angry or not. Ximena had the hinting suspicion that the two on the floor hardly cared if anyone reproached them; it was all just fun and games.

At midnight, the volunteers began to disperse to their homes or back to the working wards of the hospital. Mike and Gemma left as well, talking loudly about the fun they had experienced in the large lounge area. For a party it had been very loose and casual; people floated in and out all night. Henderson had come back from surgery with his surgical mask still hanging around his neck, some blood on it before depositing it in the bio-waste container and downing a few glasses of non-alcoholic champagne, pretending they were potent. He and Ximena had then commenced a ridiculous dance that involved slapping your feet with your hands behind your back and other awkward maneuvers, but they had both known it and tried to nail it down perfectly. Overall, Mike was glad he had gone and was very happy he had been there with Gemma.

As she climbed out of the car and Mike routinely walked her to the door, she smiled at his dreamy grin. "Had fun, I hope."

"Oh yes! That was excellent!" He replied, taking her hand and staring into her eyes earnestly.

She slipped the guitar on her shoulder off and onto the pavement of her stone porch. "I'm glad,"

His face fell after a moment of silence. "Oh, damn,"

"What?" She frowned, wondering what on earth was wrong.

He smiled sheepishly. "I can't list anything that went wrong!"

Gemma laughed appreciatively. "We knocked Jeremy clear over dancing-!"

"Oh, that's right! Well ma'am, I suppose you know what that means." He tilted his head with a knowing expression glittering under a scarcely contained grin.

Wrinkling her nose, Gemma replied. "Just when I thought I was starting to get the damn thing down you go and tell me I have to go out again."

Mike popped imaginary gum in his mouth and took a wide-footed stance. "It's also rather late for you to be out."

"Ah, but I have Michael here to protect me. Or did he sneak off and you took his place?" She peered over his shoulder.

Smiling, Mike took her hand again. "Let's not mention this 'Michael' person now."

Gemma rolled her eyes. "Don't be jealous, I like him! You're just a piece of ass, anyway."

Their laughter echoed out through the block, making a few dogs in the distance bark angrily before owners tugged them inside or shouted at them to put a cork in it.

"Just a piece of law-enforcing ass, I suppose." Mike added as he calmed down.

She nodded, giggling still. "What law you're enforcing is beyond me."

He smiled once more, taking her chin into his hand. "I've got to go,"

"Fine," she near whispered.

There it was, that wonderful and yet mind-boggling effect. Michael's feet lifted off the ground and took both he and Gemma up to an unreachable place where the cold of November didn't effect them and they were almost completely invisible. It was a few minutes before either of them moved, and it wasn't apart. Gemma finally decided she had nothing to lose and reached up to wrap an arm around his shoulders. Instantaneously Mike's hands sprang up and held her waist, causing Gemma's arms to flail for just a moment in the sudden closeness before she managed to stabilize herself by hugging him around the neck. She opened her eyes to see if she could distinguish an expression on his face but only managed to see that his eyes were shut and his breath was huffing out in little visible puffs of smoke. She felt the cold now, and instinctively moved towards the warmth she knew would be inside her door. Almost like a puppy, Mike followed her. As if she suddenly realized that she couldn't have him in, Gemma pulled apart and reluctantly released her arms from his neck. Mike sighed and started to loosen his grip on her hips but another part of his mind nagged him. He leaned in for one more precious moment with her perfume floating up around him and her hair brushing over his face as she kissed him. Taking a breath, Gemma tilted her face away, opening the perfect opportunity for Mike. He felt sort of nervous as he laid a kiss on her neck, but the short gasp of air to his right encouraged him. Her arms returned to hugging him round the neck; he couldn't help but smile.

Another moment passed before Gemma pried herself out of his arms, looking sulky and apologizing endlessly, but Mike too would have done the same if he had just an ounce more self-control. Even he could see that if she had moved another inch toward the door with her arms around his neck, they both would have seeked the warmth of her home and neither of them seemed prepared for the possibilities that the house could provide for them. She held onto his hand from her entryway, eyes drawn up in a reluctant _expression. Mike wished her a good night before releasing her hand and stepping back to his car, alone and aware that he was spending less and less time at home.

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It wasn't until later that week, Wednesday, when Mike finally opted to staying home for once. Gemma mentioned something about needing a break from all the hub-bub of going out almost every night, and even Mike had agreed that too much time was bad. So they retired in their separate houses, in separate lives for another night.

Boxer was so happy to have Mike there for more than five hours that he actually ran around in circles with Mike staring at the wall, sitting on the couch. Just happy to have something else alive in the house, Boxer brought him all his toys, bones, and a few of Mike's old shoes he'd granted to dog to mutilate.

"You've been hording my shoes!" Mike accused, seeing a pair of dress shoes all chewed up and laying on a ruin of other chewed up object.

The dog mistook it for a good thing and chuffed, wagging his tail. Mike growled at the dog before retiring to his room to get dressed. He returned in the now famous tattered jeans of his, a shirt proclaiming "Anarchy, yes!" and a thick hooded sweatshirt that simply stated "Oxford" across the front. He pulled on a pair of shoes that were the least mangled from the pile in his tiny living room before taking his dog outside for a nice healthy walk.

As he rounded the corner four blocks away where he had fended off the group of muggers from harming Gemma, he found himself whistling "Let It Be" and thinking about her. Walking around the smaller part of the small outskirt of London, Mike found himself in an increasingly good mood. He was kind to strangers, offering "good evening" and "alright?" Several blocks later he had tied Boxer to a street post while he ran inside for a few moments, returning five minutes later holding a wrapped something in his hand and a smile on his face. Boxer was surrounded by five girls, all talking to each other calmly and petting the dog a few times as he basked in the attention, white speckled paws reaching out to prod one of them if they neglected him too long.

"Excuse me, ladies, could I have me dog back?" Mike grinned sheepishly at the women, praying they gave him no trouble. Unfortunately they did give him trouble, but it was good trouble.

A blonde one with wide brown eyes gasped. "You're Michael Palin!" She cried.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm Mike."

A brunette with curly brown hair looked back at the mutt tied up. "Is that your dog?"

He nodded again and untied the mongrel before looking up into her eyes.

The woman thrust her hand out and smiled as Michael took it. "Hi, I'm Abigail Nelson and these are my friends, Olivia, Trina, Maggie, and Emma."

Mike shook her hand and grinned. "Hi Abigail, I'm Mike and this is my dog, Boxer."

Immediately Olivia, the blonde with wide brown eyes, dropped to her knees and began to coo to the dog and pet him again.

Abigail looked warmly at the man, smiling slightly. "We're not just fans of the show, you know. We know your girlfriend."

"Oh! You know Gemma from the gym, do you?" He nodded, seeing now why they'd be so ecstatic to meet him.

"Yeah, we met her playing volleyball. She talks about you all the time. Drives the guys insane." She laughed along with a few of her other girl friends.

Mike was intrigued. "Does she now?"

"All the time; she just loves yappin' on about you."

After a few more polite minutes discussing the oddities of Gemma and women in general, Mike excused himself and walked back to his flat, clutching Boxer's leash.

Meanwhile, Gemma was walking into a book store with a particularly keen interest in rediscovering Dickens again when someone somewhat familiar tapped her on the shoulder.

It was none other than Graham Chapman. "Hullo!"

She smiled at him, barely remembering his name. "Oh, hello Graham!"

"Just thought I'd annoy you a bit before I duck back out into the cold-" He explained, standing tall.

Gemma waved it off. "Not annoying me at all,"

His face fell. "Damn!"

She laughed and walked with him to a small table in the book store with two seats surrounding it. Gray gestured for her to sit as he too fell into one of the flimsy chairs. They talked for a bit, mostly about normal things you would discuss with friends, maybe a little more formal than old friends, but certainly friends. Eventually Gray brought up Michael as subject.

"The man has gone nutters all over again, in a good way!" Graham laughed, shaking his head.

Gemma nodded. "I thought he was mad,"

"Just recently," he grinned. "He talks about you all the time, you know."

Blushing slightly, Gemma turned away. "Something good I hope."

Gray smiled warmly. "I don't think you have any faults, according to Mike."

"Okay, stop, I hate compliments." She waved off his smile dismissively.

Sighing, Graham turned towards her confidentially. "What do you do when Mike's around then?"

She grinned wickedly. "He's got bruises all over his shins."

They chit-chatted a bit more and then both went their separate ways. By nine o' clock, both Gemma and Mike regretted spending the entire day alone.