Walking on Thin Ice: Chapter 19

The arrival back in London was highly predictable, though the night that followed was not. Their flight had left shortly after two, and they had arrived slightly after eight. This had all been cause of delays, turbulence, and a late take-off. The fact was, they were over an hour late as they climbed back into Gemma's car, which had collected a few inches of snow and ice over the past week. It was amazing to see all the snow all over England suddenly, covering the green of the countryside, which had started to turn ugly with autumn chills. Gemma helped Mike unload, and they sat around in his house for a while, Gemma overly ecstatic when Graham pulled up and dropped Boxer off, his face showing only a tired expression.

"Here he is, alive and not starving. Told you I could do it," he told Mike smugly, handing him the leash. Mike nodded and admitted that Gray hadn't killed his dog before thanking him and inviting him in for a spell.

He kicked his bags out of the way. "Sorry about the mess, I just got back half an hour ago, we were just unpacking-"

"We?" Gray cocked an eyebrow. Mike leaned into the kitchen where Gemma had busied herself washing the few dishes that had been left unattended, scrubbing hysterically at a plate in her hand.

Mike pointed a thumb over his shoulder, opening his mouth to say that Gemma was there, but Boxer let out a loud bark. Soon enough Gemma was on the floor with Boxer, Gray shaking his head in an amused way as Mike's girlfriend wrestled with his dog. She hardly noticed the two men until Boxer rammed into her and she was sort of pushed onto Gray's feet. She tried very hard not be shoved much further, but as soon as she slid onto his feet, she was almost obligated to look up and apologize.

Grunting as the exhausted animal curled up like some freakish toy poodle on her lap, Gemma looked up. "Hi!"

Gray smiled. "Hallo,"

He insisted he couldn't stay long, so after a few moments of catching up and asking how their trip went, Gray excused himself and walked back out to his small brown mini and exited carefully, a knowing grin still on his face. Gemma was hopelessly in the dark when it came to Mike's friends. Whenever she was around they were a little quieter than usual, so Mike said, as if they were afraid of embarrassing him in front of her. Instead of his initial plan, Mike didn't call Terry or Eric. In fact, Gray was the only one who knew he was back. Both Gemma and Mike seemed content in just spending one more day together before he had to leave, which would be early the next morning. She curled up on his couch, talking with him for ages about nothing in particular, and yet it always boiled down to something along the lines of the past or the future. They never seemed to talk about what was going on between them at the present, and they never seemed to quite know what to say to the other all the time. They truly were walking around each other like they were on thin ice and at any moment they could crash through all that they had salvaged from their previous relationship, and never be able to rebuild from there. Fear was the only thing holding them back, and neither of them seemed to think they were afraid. Doubt.

Gemma yawned and glanced at her watch. "Oh gosh, is it really eleven o' clock? Please tell me my clock is off from the plane-"

"If it was off from Vermont, it would be six in the morning here, Gemma." Mike smiled, glancing at the clock on his wall.

She smiled sleepily and stumbled up to her feet, blinking against the light. Mike tugged her hand down impatiently, jerking her back to the sofa. "You stay here tonight. I'll tell you from experience that even when you think you're alright, you're not."

"Alright, I'll stay." She paused thoughtfully. "You know what, Mike? I don't think I would put up much of a fight, really. I don't think I'd want to."

"Why's that?" He asked, slightly confused.

She smiled again. "I'm getting used to you,"

He snorted. "I should hope so!"

"I mean," she shook her head, "that I'm getting used to having you here at night. Wherever I am, that is. I like having someone to wake up to. Someone to wake up for, you know?"

Smiling gently, he nodded. "I know just what you mean."

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"Spare key? Yeah, that'd be under the potted plant there. Give it to me!" Eric spat, taking the key from Terry's sleepy fingers. He knocked twice more before turning the key and storming inside, Terry following immediately. As Gray had promised, the place was clean and Mike had evidently come home, but there were two pairs of shoes sitting on the rug and no one was on the couch. Terry stepped over the bags in the hall and knocked very gently on Mike's door. It snapped open revealing just Mike's head, his eyes and face very sleepy.

Terry placed his hands on his hips. "It's twelve o' clock, Mike, shame shame!"

Mike rubbed his face and stepped outside, his clothes rumpled slightly, his hair an absolute mess. He looked half-crazed and starving almost, but he was clearly just waking up. "Jet lag," he murmured, stretching his shoulders. Terry moved to open the door, but nearly had his arms pulled off in the process.

For some reason, Eric felt it necessary to be gentle to Mike, who was trying very hard to stay alert so early for him. "Terry, cut it out. We know she's back there, we don't need to go making either of them feel like it was a dirty deed, now do we?"

With that, Gemma slipped out from behind Mike, mortification stamped over his face. She reached up and closed his jaw for him, feeling an unfamiliar feeling rise up inside her. Waking up so late had been startling for her, knowing Mike had said that Terry and Eric were supposed to show up and drag him off to their BBC Christmas party before he started his drive to Sheffield. On a sudden thought he had invited her to tag along to the party and with that final note they fell asleep on top of Mike's bed, nothing more than worn nerves and exhausted traveling. The strange part wasn't waking up with Mike there knowing people were coming to rouse them, it was just strange she was growing used to having him there. It was strange she could wake up and think, "He's going to be there, right there, I can feel him close to me."

"How was your trip, Gemma?" Eric asked softly, feeling the protective feelings he had wake up.

There was a small sorrow on her face, but it was wiped away as she smiled warmly and pulled her braid gently. "Fabulous, absolutely fabulous."

"I'm guessing you had fun too, eh?" Terry elbowed Mike. He grunted and grabbed his stomach, pulling a face as they all seemed to be hinting to him.

"Yes, fun." He seemed very elusive.

Gemma kept her eyes on Mike in case he wanted her to leave something out, but talked. "We had all sorts of fun. Met some people from America, went skiing, swimming, snowmobiling, got in a snowball fight, and I got to roll down a good deal of the mountain without snow gear on." She squinted an eye at Mike, who had resumed making mortified faces at Eric and Terry.

"Swimming, eh?" Terry stroked his chin.

"He likes you!" Eric danced around, laughing as Mike turned and grimaced as Gemma caught him, squinting even more.

She took him up in her arms, ignoring the two men who had resolved to squeaking in amusement as Mike's flaming cheeks deepened in color as Gemma stood with her arms around his neck, her face about six inches from his. "What are they talking about, Michael?"

"Let's just say I've had some er, unpleasant experiences with pools and women." He said simply, face still red.

Terry coughed. "Mostly pushy American girls who think, 'Oh, single guy! Let's mob him!'"

"Cornered, poked, pinched, and smothered." Eric smirked.

Gemma made a small indignant noise. "Girls getting their hands on my man? I'll kill 'em!" She mimicked Mike, who seemed relieved she didn't seem to mind his previous horror.

Mike shrugged uncomfortably and jabbed his thumb over his shoulder into the room behind him. "You change in there, I'll brave the guys."

"Way to change the subject, sheesh!" She teased, lifting her small black duffle bag to her shoulder and slipping back inside.

Terry shook his head thoughtfully. "You must really like her, Mike."

"What makes you say that?" Mike asked curiously, lifting a fresh set of clothes from his bag.

"Three and a half years with no sex now and you're still prancing around with her like you could wait forever!" Eric exclaimed. "That's integrity, mate. She's a nice girl, you've made a good choice."

Mike nodded, rolling his eyes. "Of course I made a good choice, how can you go wrong?"

In the hall, Gemma opened the door and walked out, trying to be quiet for whatever reason. She was somewhat of a quick dresser, but this was nothing compared to work-mode. As she stood just behind the corner of the hall, she heard an interesting conversation begin.

"Still, you'd think she'd like you enough to let you have your way with her," Eric said thoughtfully.

Mike sounded slightly annoyed. "I AM having my way with her, Eric. You honestly think I'm going to ask her to sleep with me at this point? I'd be surprised if I ever say 'sex' in front of her." He muttered darkly.

"Why's that?" Terry asked, the only one that didn't know her dirty little secret.

"Nothing for you to worry about, Ter. She's just had some problems before that relate to that term, know what I mean?" Eric sounded slightly perverted, probably a character they were rehearsing.

Sounding tired still, Mike retorted, "Besides, she hasn't hinted a thing at me. I can't read her at all sometimes. For example, I'll show you when she comes out. She can't take a compliment if her life depended on it!"

"Ah, but some women use that to be coy! Maybe she's just trying to see if you'll give up or keep on going!" Eric said wisely.

"She doesn't do 'mysterious' or 'coy,' Eric!" He was alert now.

Gemma, having heard enough, stepped out slowly, running her hand over her folded clothes, looking distractedly at the three men. Mike, who hadn't even had time to take his shirt off, jumped about three inches into the air.

She made a sad face. "I knew I should have put on my other face..."

Eric looked momentarily confused before a strange "I don't want to know" look passed him over and he seemed content.

"No! You look-" Mike started, Gemma automatically cutting him off.

"Who wants tea?" She asked, pushing past Mike and walking into the kitchen with a relieved sigh.

"You look great, Gemma!" Eric called.

She poked her head around the corner and winked elaborately, ducking back into the kitchen, banging on pots and pans, looking for Mike's teakettle.

Whispers broke out. "She just can't take them from you, I guess."

Mike snorted unhappily, pulling his shirt off and yanking on another, walking to his bedroom for a pair of pants that were in better condition than his jeans. When he returned, Gemma had somewhat transformed. She had gone from a sort of frizzy-haired over-strung working-class hero to a laid back persona floating around his house. She was barefoot as usual, a few toe rings glittering now and again, her hair parted on the side and flowing around her as she walked around, picking up things and placing them neatly into piles and such, picking the mail up from the post box and putting it on the table. She seemed to be used to being alone, but she did work well with people. Even her face had gone from wired to lax in mere minutes. He opened his mouth to say a greeting to her, but instead a strange feeling sort of enveloped him and made him dizzy. At first he actually thought he would be sick, but then he swooned as she walked by him, her perfume floating up around him. Eric squinted accusingly at Mike as he swayed slightly, his face startled in _expression.

"You alright, mate?" He asked, standing up to catch his shoulder.

Mike turned around to see Gemma crouch over her guitar case and pull a few guitar picks from her pocket, putting them in an Altoids container to hold them for her "performances."

"Does she look any different to you?" Mike asked, grabbing Eric's shoulder for support.

Eric glanced over to Gemma quickly. "She brushed her hair and washed her face, I think. Is that it?"

Beaming proudly, Mike turned back to Eric. "She's mine, isn't she? All mine."

"That's right," he smiled, feeling rather strange standing with Mike there, acting so silly.

Gemma walked back over, glancing one or twice at Mike, who only smiled back at her, his _expression blank.

"Cupid's arrow has struck," Terry smirked, knowing just what had happened to Mike. Normally it happened the first two weeks you really fell in love with somebody; heart pounding, dizzy spells, inability to think rationally. Mike had been at a loss for words when he first met Gemma, but that was quickly overcome with a sort of comfort. She was just a comfortable person to be around, which was puzzling. The only time Mike had felt remotely different had been the instance in which he had first asked her out and she had stared at him, mouth agape, eyes clouding over strangely. He had felt the same sort of adolescent exhilaration racing through him that he had neglected for so long. Would she say yes, or would she say no? His heart had pounded, his throat tightening nervously before he managed to say her name, surprised at his own voice, so shy and frail. The same sort of feeling raced over him when her smile jumped up around her face and she said she'd love to. Not only did she say, yes, but she'd LOVE to. Just thinking about it made Mike feel warm all over.

Finally Mike pulled himself out of Eric's support and stumbled over to Gemma, his face lighting up as she turned around, feeling his presence. She gave him a strange look with a small, uncertain smile before he made a small noise and blushed in immediate embarrassment.

"What happened?" Gemma asked, giggling.

He gawped at her, realizing quite steadily that her actions were always selfless in some respect. Even when she was being greedy it seemed to be benefiting someone else along with herself. He made a small choked noise, Eric and Terry staring on with stupefied grins, knowing exactly what was the matter with him and only being able to wish him the best of luck, because what he was trying to sort out was something only he could do.

Gemma slipped out from behind him, shaking her head with a small laugh, pulling her shoes from the entryway and reaching into her bag for a pair of socks. Staring after her were all three of the men in the house, all sort of grinning softly at her. She squirmed in discomfort for a moment before shrugging it off internally and pulling on her shoes and socks. It was about time she brushed her teeth as well; Gemma grimaced as she closed her mouth and tasted the taste in her mouth. She exited to the bathroom where Mike had brushed his teeth only minutes before, taking out a small bag that held all her bathroom items. She brushed her teeth and washed her face again, almost obsessive in her manner, just wanting to feel clean all over, and it all began with the face. When she finally exited, awake and fresh, she smiled at Michael, who had resumed sitting placidly next to Eric. She walked back into his room to get her bag from his room, not surprised to hear him following her quietly.

She turned around, smiling as he leaned against the doorjamb. "Hey,"

He felt so incredibly stupid, but just the fact she was looking at him made his heart go rampant and his throat close up. He smiled broadly to compensate and could hardly breath as she abandoned her bags to hug him around the middle. Remembering the woman making him feel like he wasn't quite all the way there was in fact his girlfriend, Mike smiled again, running his hand over her back.

She sighed discontentedly below him. "Why talk at all?" She paused thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose if you just smile all the time I could be content with that."

When her head resurfaced, Mike began to toy with his belt loops, feeling rather foolish for holding onto her so tight, for being so close. It was crazy! Only ten minutes ago he'd been talking to her like they were good friends, now it felt like it was a schoolyard crush of some kind.

"Can you talk for me?" She prodded, taking his wrist.

He looked up slowly, throat giving to his will just a tad. "I uh-er-can't talk. No reason." He choked out.

Gemma squinted. "You're not losing your voice, are you?"

He shook his head briskly. "Nope, just-ah, no talking. Can't talk."

Toying with him, Gemma reached up and brushed his hair from his face. "Need some help?"

"I'm quite happy staring," he retorted, smiling.

Paying no heed to his excuse, Gemma leaned forward and up and placed a soft kiss on Mike's lips, waiting for him to press back. Instead he sort of shook for a second before she pulled away, an educated guess rising up in her clouded mind.

"Can you talk now?" She asked, knowing full well she'd merely complicated his situation.

"No!" He cried back, eyes darting around, his arms having snaked up around her waist, holding her close.

Gemma was now perfecting the art of being coy and elusive. "Why can't you talk, Michael? You're not ill, you're perfectly fine, no cat's swallowed your tongue, so what's wrong? Is something wrong?"

She had just opened her mouth to ask him another question, hoping to confuse him with some fast-talking, but he reached up and held a finger to her lips, teeth clipping shut with a small, hollow noise.

"Shh! No talk!"

"Why not? I like talking, it's a fun thing to do, don't you agree? We can both jabber on, can't we? I think we can, I forget you won't be talking right now, so these might as well be rhetorical questions, eh Mike?" She responded, quite enjoying the way he squirmed with indecision. Would he decide that he had nothing to lose and just kiss her already? Instead of frustration, Gemma turned it into a game.

Finally Mike answered her. "The reason I'm not talking is because I can't talk, and the reason I can't talk right now is because suddenly I have this overwhelming desire to kiss you, and since I have no reason for that, I don't think I can just do it, can I?" He finally spat out, worry springing up instantly.

"You don't need a reason, for Christ's sake! You can do whatever you want whenever you want, when it comes to that. In fact-" Gemma started off, turning her head towards Mike sharply.

He shushed her again. "Alright, shut up then." And with that he kissed her, his boyish oddities dying on the spot. Instead of being his friendly eight year old self he was twenty-six again. He was standing there with Gemma in his arms, for once she was flailing weakly, her body relaxed and tense at the same time. Gemma felt some sort of schoolgirl dare rise up inside herself and she opened her mouth, hoping he'd take a breath and give her an opportunity. Instead she felt his tongue slip into her mouth, a surprising discovery. They sort of swooned at the other for a good long time, eyes shut but bodies close. They could, in a sense, see with all their other senses much like a blind person can see objects without their sight. With her eyes shut, Gemma could feel every little touch of Mike's hands, feel the ground leave her feet, and feel her mind reach up into a cloud unknown to herself. Pinning her to the wall, Mike shook weakly, not understanding what had spurred this revelation, and why exactly it had taken them near three months to move onto that stage of kissing. The couple, normally so good at keeping private matters to themselves, were now thrown into the embarrassment of love.

"Come on, we'll be late!" Eric whined, flipping the light on and off rapidly, startling both Mike and Gemma.

Mike pulled himself from Gemma, face sort of cooling instead of heating up. Gemma didn't seem to mind Eric finding them either, the way he put it had been sort of loose and fun instead of teasing. Tossing her hair behind her shoulders, Gemma took Michael's hand and lead him out the door, shouldering her bag and handing him her guitar. Carelessly tossing an arm around Gemma's shoulder, Mike allowed Eric and Terry to lead them out the door of his own flat.

They climbed out of their separate cars at the BBC building, parking around the few cars that were there, ignoring the fact that the secretary was sitting behind the dumpster with her boyfriend, necking under a street lamp. As they walked in, Gemma reached around Mike's waist and held onto his belt loop protectively, smiling playfully as he turned to look at her. In a form of retaliation, he put his hand into her back pocket, awaiting the swat from her free hand. Instead she copied him, snickering coyly as they entered the building and walked into the party.

Several hours later, with all the drinking, partying, dancing, and laughing, Gemma excused herself at the same time as Mike, claiming she had already scared the crap out of Abigail who was probably waiting back at her place like a worried mother.

"Have fun, Mike." Gemma said softly as they walked out to their cars.

He smiled at her, eyes turned down. "I really wish you would reconcile with your family; you're missing out on these things you know."

She was surprisingly stiff. "They don't want me back, and I don't want them."

"That's a lie and you know it." Mike retorted, his eyes shining with concern. Why was she suddenly so denying and sensitive?

Her face turned towards him sharply. "It's not like I'm hiding from them, Michael. My name's in the books just like them! They could come here any damn day and tell me they were sorry, but the sad truth is they aren't! So you should stop wishing for a fairy tale ending for me, 'cause it ain't gonna happen!" She wiped a tear from her eye as she slipped into her car. "Have fun," she spat again, screeching away into the night.

Mike sighed and tugged on his hair, stomping his foot in annoyance before angrily climbing into his own beat-up car and tearing off to the hour and a half long ride to his parents' house.

Abigail sat in Gemma's reclining chair, biting her nails and using a knitting needle to scratch at her cast, her arm itching like crazy. She was worried sick about Gemma, but a small instinct told her that she and Mike may finally have found each other while all alone out in the rugged cold. Snickering softly to herself, Abigail stood up and walked to the kitchen to wash up the last of the dishes. The lock turned and Gemma walked in, slamming the door behind her and collapsing in a heap in the middle of her entryway, sobbing.

"Gemma!" Abigail cried, running from the kitchen to her friend's side, gasping as the young woman sat up and repeatedly hit herself on the leg. It hardly helped but she didn't give up.

Driving along the road, music pounding in his ears, Mike started to brood again. He was beginning to think about Gemma again, a subject he hadn't thought about for nearly an hour now. In the next ten minutes his parents' house would come into view and he'd be able to relax and catch up with his family, the last they heard from him being that he'd survived a car accident and would be just fine. That and the chicken soup recipe, but he didn't count that; it had been a short conversation and nothing more. He turned the music up on the radio, hoping to drown out any unwanted thoughts, but only succeeded in pissing himself off further as "Let It Be" roared up over the radio. Oddly enough, instead of picturing Helen's face, Mike only pictured Gemma's, and she didn't look happy. He pulled into the driveway of the house he knew so well, and slipped out of the car, taking his bags and his unwrapped gifts in carefully, unable to make himself smile until he pushed open the door and a flood of affection washed over him.

"Little brother!" Crooned Angela, walking down the steps evenly, her husband sitting carefully at the top of the steps. Angela's stomach was swelling with pregnancy, a stagnant reminder to Mike, who gently hugged his sister and grinned painfully, a headache coming on already.

Mike's father lifted some of the bags from his son's arms and lead him to his room, the very room he'd stayed in all his life. He set his things down and walked back out into the living room, brushing his hands off slowly, his mind wandering in the deathly still air.

"So, give me the skinny, little brother, what's going on with you?" Angela asked, possessively smoothing his hair and doting on him in the way she used to when he was too young to notice she'd laced another bonnet on his head or given him a doll to play with until she retrieved the ball he'd hurled across the room. He was just like a plaything to her at first, and she still loved to baby him now.

He shrugged. "Got my cast off, my arm's fine. Uh, the show Terry and I have on the telly is starting to pick up some ratings. Er-" He started to consider telling them about Gemma. It was a three month relationship-one he could have just ended with his own persistence before he had left. He fished through his duffel bag and retrieved Gil's sketch of Gemma, handing it wordlessly to Angela.

"Who's this?" She asked as her husband got to his feet and walked into the kitchen to assist his mother-in-law with the dishes. Mike's father retired to his reclining chair, still the overbearing figure he remembered.

Mike smiled mysteriously. "That's my girlfriend."

His sister squealed. "Oh, she's beautiful, Mikey! Where'd you find her?"

"Under a rock, curiously enough," he retorted, making fun of her terminology.

"Who's this we're talking about?" Their father asked as Angela's first child, Charlie, crawled across the floor with a small pout on his face.

"Mikey's girlfriend!" Angela cried back, leaping up to show his mother. She met Angela half-way having heard Angela's cries from the other room, and she too jumped about in excitement, pausing to frown at the tight-fitting clothes Gil had adorned her with. It was slightly cartoon-ish, but you couldn't miss her beauty, and Mike couldn't believe how serious she looked in the sketch.

"What's her name, Mike?" Angela's husband Thom asked.

Sighing softly, Mike stood up and fetched himself a beer, sitting down again. "Gemma,"

"Gemma what?"

"Gemma Thompson,"

Mary Palin clucked her tongue. "Oh, what a pretty name! Is she nice?"

"Yes, but right now we're not on the best of terms. I think I made her mad by suggesting she do something that would benefit her." He spat, taking a draw from the bottle in his hand.

Angela clucked her tongue. "What did you do?"

"I suggested she go see her family for Christmas, and she got mad at me. She said they could find her if they wanted to, and they didn't. She lied and said she didn't want them either, and then left. I could have told her to come with me, but I didn't think she'd like that at all." Mike shook his head.

His mother raised her eyebrows. "How long have you been dating, Michael? If you were going to tell her to come with you, well, you must have been dating for a while now."

"A little over three months, now. If I haven't screwed things up, that is." He muttered darkly, scrunching his nose up.

"What-?"

"Look," Mike replied thickly, "I don't really feel like catching you all up. I met her because she saved my life when I got in a car accident, I kept running into her, I asked her out, she accepted. We've been inseparable ever since." With a slightly undecided look on his face, he added, "She took me to Vermont, Angie! I can ski now." He shuddered.

His father's jaw was hanging loose. "You went with a girl to Vermont? All the way there and you didn't tell us?"

He looked up and nodded slowly. "Yes, yes I did."

"Well, no matter, he's here in one piece!" Angela defended.

"I think I'm going to turn in now, maybe call her tomorrow before she leaves for work." He muttered to himself and walked to his room, not bothering with anything special before sinking into the clean sheets on the bed and waiting for Christmas Eve day to arrive.

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"Gemma! The heat's out!" Abigail chattered, checking the thermostat again. "You want me to call someone?"

Her friend's head poked around the corner. "And have them charge us extra to have to come out on a weekend? No way! Let's tough this out; cold burns calories anyway, Abby."

Abby shrugged and dropped her hand from the thermostat, inching back to her room to collect blankets. Together the pair curled up in the kitchen to make something hot to keep them warm. Gemma seemed much better than she had the night before, but Abby could tell that she was mad at herself and Mike.

"What happened last night?"

"Mike told me I need to talk to my parents, and then said I was lying when I said I never wanted to talk to them again." She spat, face sad and angry at the same time. There was a long pause before she added, "And he's right!" She buried her face in her arms and screeched, trying to vent her frustration.

Abby patted Gemma's arm softly. "You should call and apologize, that'll make it right."

She looked up, face red with suppressed tears. "I don't know his parents' number, and I'm not calling their house!"

"That and you have to go to work, right?" Abby rolled her eyes.

Gemma leaped on the excuse. "Exactly! Thanks, Abby! I'll be back at five, if you need anything just come to the hospital. Normally we're in the paramedics' lounge."

"As opposed to where?" She teased.

"The broom closet, with a doctor or male nurse," Gemma retorted, walking into her room to change into her uniform. Once she'd eaten and changed she pulled on her shoes and drove her car to the hospital, sitting down in a depressed way, waiting for Jeremy to show up.

As he dropped his bag on the floor, he cringed. "Uh oh,"

Gemma looked up. "Hm?"

Jeremy sat down across from her, chin in hand. "You and Mike are in a row over Christmas, he's out of town and," he paused, touching her hands softly with a decisive nod, "your heat's out."

"How the hell do you get that?" She asked with a bemused smile, finishing her braid off and tying it with a small, green ribbon.

He smiled. "You're depressed, he's not here begging for forgiveness, you took him somewhere just before Christmas (probably because he couldn't be here for you), and you look like a ghost."

Gemma scoffed. "Well, you hit the nail on the head. What have you got going on this Christmas, Jeremy? Wanna go get drunk and forget?" She kidded, elbowing him gently.

"I was actually considering signing up for overtime on Christmas night and Christmas day. The pay is great and I don't have anything or anyone to hang out with or for this holiday." He muttered.

Gemma slapped the table. "Count me in, partner."

Grinning, Jeremy signed Gemma up with himself for Christmas day and Christmas night paramedic duty. The day began on Christmas Eve with a car accident; Jeremy and Gemma lurched off to save lives just as Mike woke up miles away.

He stumbled out to the kitchen, grabbing a coffee mug and filling it with black tea, sitting carefully in a rickety old chair as his sister and mother spoke in the kitchen. They turned around and stared at Mike who had silently appeared while their backs were turned. Immediately Angela scampered over to her brother's side and began to smooth his bedhead hair style only to be beaten away with sleepy punches and attempted bitings. He stood up after failing to ward off the assailants of his head and took a cigarette from his coat pocket, stepping out into cold air to avoid the smell from sinking into his mother's kitchen. She stared disapprovingly as he stood in the freezing cold air, nearly nothing on, and stared angrily at the snow covered hills and houses in the distance. Inhaling sharply, he heard sirens wailing in the distance. The air around him tasted cold and bitter, chilling him in more ways than one. Finally feeling the cold of the cement porch sink into his feet, he dropped the remnants of the cigarette into the garden and stepped back inside, clearly not himself.

"What's up, little brother? You're not acting like yourself." Angela pressed, smoothing his hair again. Mike, who stood a few inches taller than her, still felt like he had to put up with her babying to some extent, and now he felt like it was well-deserved.

He glanced around Angela's head at his mother, who was flitting around the kitchen like she planned to solve world hunger. "Mum? What are you doing?"

She shook a skillet at him. "You need some food in you, boy! You went and lost all your puppy fat, now you're going to freeze your tail off in this weather, probably catch a terrible cold!"

Mike rolled his eyes as Angela snickered. "That wasn't 'puppy-fat' mother, that was just-and what are you talking about? 'This weather?' It's winter!" He turned around and glanced at his back sarcastically. "And my tail's already fallen off."

As if to add to the embarrassment of childhood, his mother gave him a good smack with the skillet before setting the thing on the stove and starting to cook various things. Rubbing his side softly, Mike sat down and sighed, considering getting dressed and dismissing the idea as Thom shuffled upstairs in no better shape than himself and poured himself a mug of tea as well.

"Sleep well?" Thom started eyeing Mike carefully. He nodded and sank into a stupor, waiting for something to strike him.

Angela clucked her tongue. "I think he's upset that his girlfriend's mad at him."

Seeing that he couldn't quite hear them in the state he was in, Mary Palin continued. "Well I think he needs to call the poor girl up and apologize, even if he's right. He can work on getting her back together with her family later if it's that important."

"How can we cheer the poor kid up?" Angela asked, her face puffing up into a pouting face to show she was upset her baby brother was unhappy.

Thom grinned. "You could always bug him about how he met Gemma, what they did in Vermont, how their first date went and more."

"Guys don't like talking about that sort of stuff!" Angela retorted.

Thom grinned even more. "Exactly!"

"Well," Angela's mother started, "I want to hear that and he's not telling his own mother that he doesn't feel like talking about it any more!"

With that exclamation Mike jerked out of his sleepiness and sidled over to the sitting room where he curled up on the reclining chair and sat, wide-eyed. The other followed, his father waking up last only to discover the kitchen empty, the tea cold, and his son comatose.

"What's wrong with him?" He poked the boy's foot.

Mike jerked his foot away from the sensation, a wince coming up over his face.

"The poor boy's afraid his girlfriend's still mad at him but he won't call her." His mother started.

Groaning in an irate sort of way, Mike buried his face in his hands. "I'm just thinking! Christ!"

"Well, to make you feel better we could talk about happy things!" Thom started, winking elaborately at Angela and her mother.

With a raised eyebrow, Mike lifted his head. "You have candy?"

Angela smacked Mike softly. "No! We want to hear how you met the girl; it'll keep your mind off of the situation and make you giddy. Everyone likes a giddy Palin."

Almost embarrassed in the presence of his own family, Mike blushed. "Riiight,"

"Come on, then! The most we heard is she was your paramedic; what happened next?" Angela pressed, interested now.

Mike, somewhat interested in their reaction to his story, started off with their full attention.

"I woke up covered in my own blood and my arm hurt like hell. So I get out of the car and lean up against this tree when the ambulance shows up and this woman jumps out and asks me if I was drinking or if I fell asleep. I said I fell asleep and started to drift off, but she kept me awake checking for breaks. This male paramedic shows up and tells the female I've got broken ribs and then she says that I've got a broken wrist or arm and it needed attention. Terry showed up and then I passed out. As Terry said at the hospital the next day, I stopped breathing and was clinically dead for about three minutes, but Gemma gave me a jumpstart, supposedly. Mouth-to-mouth, defribulator and everything. I wake up in the hospital and there's this 'Get Well Soon' kind of thing next to my bed signed by Gemma. The doctor showed up and told me she always checks in on her patients and sees how they're doing, leaves them stuff to show she cares. So after he leaves, she shows up and we get into this conversation about how you feel when you've lost someone close to you.

"The next day when Gray was supposed to pick me up from the hospital, he didn't show and Gemma offered to give me a ride home." He grinned at his mother. "I tried to refuse, Mum, I really did, but she insisted..."

She smiled weakly. "Go on, Mike."

"So she gave me the ride home, I embarrassed myself to no ends by playing the part of a school-boy and ended up bolting into my flat at top-speed."

"Why?" Thom asked, smiling coyly.

Mike sighed. "You know, the ol' kiss 'n' run technique, right? Anyway-"

Angela laughed and clapped her hands. "Awww!"

Mike rolled his eyes but continued. "She played at a club the guys and I frequent a lot. She plays a good guitar, and sings really well. So I see her there and the guys wanted me to ask her out but I wouldn't do it. Later that week I heard some muggers talking to someone in the alley just beyond where I was standing. After a small scuffle this woman flops out onto the pavement and it's her. I play Mr. Superman, knock out the bastard chasing her and in return get a huge hug of some sorts, though we were both trying not to bleed on each other. We went back to my place; she patched me up, I patched her up, she needed a ride and I owed her one. I asked her out and she said she'd love to, and that's how that came around."

Thom smirked. "I think it was a lot more dramatic than that. You probably thought time was standing still when you asked her out, and she probably thought she was hearing things. It always seems to happen that way."

Mike thought carefully about how he had felt earlier that week when he'd felt dizzy just looking at her. He sighed loftily, knowing how he felt know, so alone and miserable without her happy face echoing in his memory, replaced only by a sad and angry voice.

Mike nodded. "Yeah, it always does."





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