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."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"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.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"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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