At first, the
raw absurdity of "Monty Python's Flying Circus" hit Gemma like
a - well, like a 16-ton weight. She stared and giggled nervously,
unsure
if she
was supposed to laugh or not. There were quite a few sketches, all very
funny
to her. She sat on the ground in front of the set and stared for half
an hour,
laughing occasionally, but mostly giggling uncertainly throughout.
Zilla
watched with an expression only cats seem to be able
to use before stalking off to find some toy to amuse herself with.
Mike watched
in awe of the great editing, laughing occasionally and smiling at Eric
as their own shining faces sprang forth. Boxer, much like
Zilla, could not see what was so amusing and sulked off, sleep taking
over his
now worn out body. Eric and Mike stared at themselves and the other
four
Pythons, laughing at the sketches they both contributed and hadn't
contributed
to. There was a long enough pause during the first commercial break
that Mike
considered looking up Gemma's phone number and giving her a ring when
his own
phone rang.
He snatched it
up and turned away from Eric. "'Ello?"
"Are you
watching?" Came Terry's excited voice.
Mike chuckled
for a moment. "Yes, Terry, I'm watching too."
"I look
like a jack, but I'm happy! Is that weird?"
"No, it's
fine. Eric's here, we're having a good laugh over it, it's all just
great." Mike sighed heavily, wondering if maybe he was being
over-sensitive earlier that week.
"Don't
let him drive home tonight," Terry warned seriously.
His friend
nodded and eyed Eric's semi-tired expression as he sat and watched
commercials.
Terry's voice
hitched up as the show came back on. "Well, I better go, Allison-"
"Seen!"
There was an
awkward silence, some laughter, and then both lines hung up.
Gemma still
stared at the screen, eyes wide and mouth twisted up in a smile. There
was
Eric, face shining triumphantly as he stood on screen, waiting for his
line to
appear.
The show ended
as strangely as it began, leaving her sides aching and her mind racing.
It was
so amazingly funny, how could she not tell? All six of the men she had
met had
been more than friends; they had also been business partners! She
should have
seen it coming; it was lucky she had woken up in time to catch the show
before
she slipped off into a deep sleep.
Shaking her
head and trudging off to sleep, Gemma made it a point to tell Michael
Palin
that he was mad and that his friends were too.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Eric woke up
on Mike's couch, a dog on his lap and a crick in his neck. He groaned
and
shoved Boxer off his lap, intent on splashing some water on his face to
wake up
so he could drive home, or bother Mike into giving him a lift. In fact,
Mike
would do that for him and walk the forty-one blocks home, Eric snorted.
Meanwhile,
Boxer (who had been shoved to the floor) was moping about when he
nuzzled open
Mike's door and crawled inside, hoping to creep into Mike's bed without
waking
him. Unfortunately, Mike was having another dream and sat bolt upright
when the
large dog attempted to slink in next to him.
He grunted a
negative sound and rolled to the floor, eyes half-lidded and mostly
afraid he'd
walk outside and just fall asleep on his feet.
"Hey
buddy, I better leave while I'm awake-" Eric started, knocking gently
on
the door to let his friend know he was entering the room.
Mike stared at
the ceiling, hair splayed out in every direction possible. "Go
ahead."
He began to
play with the doorframe. "You should find her and talk to her today,
you
really should. She's a nice girl, Mike, pity to let her go just because
you're
a little too shy to ask her out."
Mike sighed
anyway. "It's hard for me, always has been. Just a little harder when I
haven't been out with a girl romantically in three years."
Eric shrugged.
"From the sound of it she hasn't been asked in about a year, maybe
she'll
be ecstatic."
"Guess I'll
never know," Mike returned flatly, sitting up.
His friend's
face fell and his eyes squinted. "That's not the way to go. What have
you
got to lose?"
As if it were
an answer to Eric's question, Mike began to pick at his cast and stare
at the
signatures on it.
"All I'm
saying is ask her if she'll spend more than a few minutes with you. You
could
even put it that way."
"All I'm
saying," he said sharply. "Is that she's too nice for me to go
mucking it up with."
Eric sighed
heavily. "You're not mucking it up, you should
have seen how nervous she was when she realized you'd seen her sing,
how happy
she was when you guys were playing that little game. I'd wager a ton of
money
she wants you to ask her out and just doesn't know it."
"Think
what you want," Eric said sharply. "But I'll tell you that if you
don't act quick, you're going to lose her."
With that Eric
left, noting that Mike seemed putout by his advice instead of
encouraged. It
was true, Mike only felt more despair as he sat on the floor of his
bedroom,
thinking that maybe Eric was right and he needed to ask her out at all
risks.
But the larger part of his brain objected, saying he'd only make a fool
of
himself and possibly hurt Gemma's feelings in the process. He sighed
and
crawled back into bed; hardly caring that Boxer had taken up the other
half and
was presently sleeping soundly.
Gemma groaned
with an overslept toss of her hair and stretched, sitting up and
feeling well
rested for once. She yawned and trudged out of her room and into the
kitchen
again. Zilla was snoozing on the windowsill, soaking up some sunlight
in the
late morning.
"Morning,
kitty kitty," Gemma crooned, scratching the cat's chin and grinning as
Zilla's paws came up and swatted at her hand.
Without hunger
rolling around in her stomach this morning, Gemma got dressed and
walked
outside for the first time in daylight since she had gone grocery
shopping in
the early morning over a week ago. She was a bit worried that she
squinted for
the better part of an hour before her eyes adjusted but her worry was
quenched
as she walked along the sidewalk in the chilly October air.
Mike too felt
the strange need to go outside and walk around, see the park alone,
maybe just himself this time. It was odd, because once again he dreaded
leaving Boxer alone, seeing the pleading brown eyes stare at him
remorsefully
until he started reaching for the red leash. At the last minute he
stopped his
hand and turned toward the door. He said his goodbyes and walked out
the door.
She walked
along the worse part of town, eyeing the hungry looking muggers with a
sort of
skitter in her walk, though she knew from her high school days that she
could
beat any one of the grimy looking pushovers to a pulp. They were all
cowards
anyway.
He walked
along the edge of the park to his car and leaned against the hood,
contemplating what to do on a Monday morning before Terry called with
one of
his brilliant brainstorming sessions. There was some rude whistling
down the
alleyway behind him and Mike was instantly reminded of the horrid men
that had
killed his wife.
Gemma walked
faster as the men's whistles echoed in her ears and they began to
follow her
down the narrow alleyway toward the nearest brightly lit park. She
flicked
about the narrow alley, trying not to upset garbage cans or startle any
more of
the flocked pigeons. One of the greasier looking men grabbed her
shoulder and
spun her around with a fierce look on his face.
"Come on
luv, we won't 'urt you...bad!" He cackled. Gemma wrinkled her nose and
shrugged her shoulder from his grasp, hardly afraid of the bastard.
She continued
walking away, though her knees had taken on a slight shake.
When Mike
heard the grating voice of one of the nastier looking men float out of
the
alleyway, his blood turned hot. Obviously they were harassing another
young
lady, just like Helen. He stared at the alleyway entrance, only five
feet in
front of him.
Gemma spun
around to face her tormentors, eyes wild as she heard clinking chains.
"You guys are incredible! We're almost to the park and you think I'm
just
going to stop and strip for you?"
The woman was
fighting back, Mike grimaced. This was never a good sign. There was the
sound
of a chain clinking on a dumpster followed sharply by a shout.
"This can
be hard or this can be easy, I suggest you shut you mouth!" The greasy
one
hissed as Gemma shouted and landed a kick in one of the men's groins.
She
scowled at him and turned to punch his stupid face in when his hand
snaked up
and wrapped around her mouth, pushing her against the sooty brick of
the
buildings creating her prison.
"Shut
up!" He commanded again, pressing his face closer to Gemma's. She
hissed
against his dirty hands and started to squirm away, only a few feet
before she
spilled onto the street in plain view of any passersby.
One of his
hands began to travel to her bell-bottom, soon trying to worm its way
down the
front. Gemma gasped in disbelief as his comrades snickered. With a
final surge
of hope, Gemma let loose her left hand, smacking the would-be rapist
upside the
head and throwing herself into the street. Her pursuers weren't afraid
of
daylight like vampires however, and simply leapt out
after.
Mike stood in
mild shock as he saw the disheveled woman pick herself up off the
street, eyes
wild and hair flying. He recognized her at once.
"Gemma?!" He cried, incredulous
expression on his face.
She glanced
up, eyes shining with fear. "Michael! Oh my God, help!" She lurched
forward, hand extended out pleadingly before a particularly
ugly man with a horrible hair cut leapt out from the alley and started
dragging
her back in by her hair, hand flying up over her mouth.
She screamed
anyway, thrashing wildly. "Let go of me!" She managed to get through
his hand before her attacker went slack and Mike stepped away, pain
written on
his face as he massaged his right hand gingerly.
The others
scowled at Michael as he stood stoically over their comrade's fallen
body and
put an arm protectively in front of Gemma. They bared their teeth
before
running like the cowards they were. Mike immediately turned and eyed
Gemma's
bleeding elbow.
"Are you
okay?" He asked, eyes floating up to her face where tears had worked
their
way out of her eyes.
She abruptly
threw her arms around his shoulders and let out a shaky breath, happy
he had
rescued her and happy it had been him. He awkwardly brought his arms up
to
embrace her back and found his hand had started to bleed as well.
He laughed
softly. "We look like a right bloody mess, don't we?" He sighed into
her hair and smiled as she agreed with a simple nod of her head.
She pulled
back suddenly and took his right hand. "Look what's happened,
let me patch it up-"
"I'll
survive for a bit, let's get your elbow-"
"No, I
didn't even know that was bleeding! Let's-"
They argued
over the other's well being for what felt like an hour before Gemma
finally
gestured for silence.
"How
about we find us some bandages and fix up both of them" She smiled at
her
hero once again.
His grin was
huge as he turned toward the block leading to his house. "I know just
the
place."
They walked,
laughing pleasantly and talking animatedly, the four blocks to Mike's
apartment
where upon entering, Boxer howled pitifully and licked Gemma nearly to
dripping
point. She died with the attention and almost forgot her purpose when
Mike
returned, a grin coming to his face.
"He's a
playful fellow, you get off easy of course." He
rolled his eyes as the animal continually ran from himself to Gemma
with his
doggy grin taking up his face.
"Whoof!" He barked and sat, whining loudly.
Gemma smiled
at the rascally dog before lifting herself to her feet and examining
Mike's
split knuckle.
"How did
that happen?" She wondered out loud, accustomed to being alone in a
house
with only Zilla as company.
Mike shifted
his feet, enjoying the attention. "It was horrible,
he had a knife and all I had was my fist..." He pouted.
Gemma laughed
again. "Poor thing, let's see if you have any hydrogen peroxide; that
could get infected."
She walked to
his bathroom and peered under the sink and in the medicine chest before
finding
the plain brown bottle on the counter. She returned and cleaned out his
knuckle, placing a gauze and tape around to stop the bleeding and keep
him from
re-opening the wound.
"Things
just haven't been going your way, eh?" She made some conversation,
feeling
awkward as Mike gently scrubbed at her elbow with a cotton ball soaked
with the
tingly liquid.
He smiled.
"I'd say things are getting better, actually."
She snickered.
"A car accident and a split knuckle, I shudder to think of life before
me."
"Well, I
was referring to the walk home from all the
trauma." He said, blushing immediately after saying it.
Gemma blushed
slightly too, not used to human attention other than on a professional
level.
"Speaking of which, I'd like to thank you for totally flat-lining that
guy. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there." She
looked up and blinked earnestly at him as he stared back into her eyes.
He blushed
again and looked away, busying himself with the gauze and tape. "Well,
I-it was nothing-anyone would have done it-" He adamantly tried to
redirect the attention.
She looked him
in the eye again. "But you were the one that did,
thanks."
He finished
taping her arm up and straightened up abruptly. She stared, hoping she
hadn't
embarrassed him in front of his dog or some unseen houseguest.
He really
didn't want her to go, but there was no reason for her to stay. He
absent-mindedly began to pick at his cast again.
She touched
the white plaster, reading the crude signatures. "How
long till this comes off?"
"Four
weeks, three if I'm lucky." He replied, once again grateful the
attention
being moved.
"Can I
sign it then?" She asked, producing a black magic marker from his
countertop.
He smiled and offered his arm to her, grinning as she laid it across
her lap
and scribbled in her untidy scrawl that he recognized immediately.
There was
another remark added to his cast before she recapped the marker and let
go of
his arm. He examined the marks and grinned.
"Gemma, your friendly victim and savior." He looked up and shook
his head slowly.
She flipped
her hair in a jokingly ditzy manner. "That represents the struggles of
every day life in a world full of people that only want to hate. You
dig
it?" She mocked American Hippies, though in essence she was one
herself.
"Oh,
totally diggin' on that, bird." He smiled.
She reached up
and ruffled his hair, almost desperate to regain some control on the
situation.
Boxer whined
from the living area, tail wagging weakly.
Once again
intrigued by the dog, Gemma changed the subject again. "What's his
name?"
Mike sighed
and knelt before the animal, scratching his chest and trying to avoid
the
sneaky tongue that kept whipping out. "His name is Boxer, and he's a
pain
in the neck right now."
Gemma laughed.
"Oh not at all, he's adorable. My cat, Zilla, that's an annoying
pet."
He eyed her
discreetly. "Zilla? Interesting
name."
"Catzilla
didn't have the same ring to it as plain old Zilla." She answered,
shrugging it off.
Mike giggled
slightly. "Of course, you are talking to the most originally named
person
next to John Cleese."
Gemma
snickered again, hand brushing Michael's as she stroked Boxer's furry
white
chest. "My mother's name was Summer, my father was Stanley. They had
eight kids
and I'm the only one that doesn't start with an 'S.'"
Mike gasped. "How absolutely tragic!"
She laughed.
"It is, isn't it?"
"So,
about Zilla, why is she annoying" He asked, curious to her pet.
Gemma
shrugged. "She's a cat, doesn't answer to anything but the sound of a
tuna
can being opened and maybe if I yell 'catnip' into the house while
dancing
around with a bag of the stuff. Another thing, she uses my leg as a
scratching
post."
He grimaced.
"Ouch!"
She giggled.
"She's declawed, Michael."
He blushed. "Oh, of course."
He was so
cute, so easily embarrassed and very humble. He had invited her in only
after
checking to make sure his dog hadn't completely ruined the interior and
even
then he'd checked to make sure that she wasn't uncomfortable around his
mutt,
very in tune to her possible needs as she gripped her elbow and tried
to stop
dripping blood on her jeans.
"And my
leg is wooden, so I can't feel it." She joked, smirking as he gave her
a
doubtful look.
He
straightened his shoulders as Boxer began to pant and turn around so
his back
got some attention before they tired of the task they performed.
"Well,
this dog here likes to eat faces, so watch out." He warned as the dog
began to turn and lick at Gemma's face again.
She giggled.
"I keep an extra one in a jar by my door. Besides, Zilla once ate a
man."
Mike gasped
again. "How absolutely tragic!"
She feigned
sympathy. "I told Daddy not to smear the roast all over but he just
wouldn't listen..." She broke out into imaginary tears.
Mike laughed
softly as she continued to scratch at his dog and smile.
She sobered up
her attitude seconds after Boxer laid another sloppy kiss across her
cheek.
"Good dog," she muttered, pressing her face to his muzzle and allowing
the mutt to sniff her ears. It was no use trying to be serious in front
of
either of them, especially while dog whiskers tickled her ears.
She began to
giggle.
Mike stared as
she squeezed her eyes shut and giggled happily, completely at ease in
front of
him. How could she do that? He felt out of place in his own home!
She looked up
from the dog and smiled at Mike as he stared, face calm. "I saw your
show
last night," she said with a grin.
He turned
scarlet. "Oh, did you now?"
She nodded
vigorously. "Yes, smashing, brilliant! When's the next one on?"
He gaped.
"You really liked it?"
"Like I
said, I thought you'd be a great actor. I don't know how you kept a
straight
face!" She praised him.
He turned the
tables quite abruptly. "The other night when you were singing, that was
great, I wish I could take myself that seriously-"
"And I
still don't know how you can watch Eric's face without laughing-"
"No one
can stop talking about you."
They ended at
the same time, casting eyes downward and still petting the extremely
content
black Labrador mix.
She looked up
brightly. "Hey, you owe me a ride! Care to use it up now?"
He turned
scarlet again and looked out the window before answering. "Of course,
but
maybe I could offer another one, on Thursday?"
She gaped
openly. Had he just asked her out? Her heart slowly began to shriek and
jump
around, upsetting all sorts of things like her rational and logical
minds.
He was still
blushing but looking rather hopeful as she gaped open-mouthed at him.
"Gemma?" He sounded very shy suddenly.
"Yes, of
course! I'd love to!" She found her voice at last.
His face split
into a wide grin as she sat, teeming with joy before him. Eric had been
right,
again!
He looked down
at his cast again and smiled. "Well, do you need that ride now?"
"Unfortunately,
yes. My cousin is coming over later to visit me, not just the cat."
Mike clapped
his hands. "Perfect, I have a writing session later today anyway!"
The walk back
to his car was silent, though there was a happy quiet. The birds that
remained
in the trees chirped, and the neighborhood dogs seemed content to just
watch
them pass for once. When they arrived at the car the fallen mugger was
gone,
and Gemma swore she saw a grease spot where his head had been.
She sat,
staring pleasantly out the window of the car, eyeing clouds and trees
as they
passed, every so often throwing a look at Michael, who was just as
content
watching the road with an occasional glance at her to make sure she was
content.
"Here it
is," she blushed as he slowed near her cream colored house with the
morbidly black first bedroom.
He didn't say
anything though, hardly noticing the odd coloration of the interior
room.
"It's the
late shift, I'm usually asleep during the day, so the
light bothers me. Decked my room in all black to
compensate." She explained, seeing now that a frown had crossed his
face for an instant.
He smiled.
"Late shift makes dates tricky, you know."
She grinned
back. "I've just gotten moved to the nine to five shift
on five days a week, so I'm actually not a vampire anymore."
He smiled and
slipped out of the beat up old car, barely repaired from making it from
the
shop. The windshield and bumper replaced, a small dent repaired and the
rest
left as chipped and cracked as the rest.
He opened the
door and let her slip out with yet another boyish grin. He took her
hand and
walked her up to the door, as though protecting her from sidewalk
bullies.
She stood
calmly before him on the concrete stoop. "If you don't have to go yet,
I
could offer you some tea. Least I could do," she offered weakly.
It was
tempting. "Only if I'm not imposing, Gemma."
"No, of course not!" She shook her head and
unlocked the door, letting him in first. He eyed the brightly lit
entrance
hall, seeing a black cat staring with some surprise.
He bent and
scratched the cat's ears. "This must be Zilla."
Gemma
snickered as she wiped her sneakers on the small mat. "Her
Majesty Zilla, Queen of all who live here."
As soon as
shoes were dry enough to Gemma's taste she led Michael to her small
kitchen and
dining area where she quickly set the teakettle and sat down next to
her
bookshelf, Mike curiously reading the titles.
"I have
this," he said pointedly, pulling "Beyond Good and Evil" out
about an inch from the rest.
Gemma nodded. "Puts me right to sleep most of the time. Philosophy
was a great course though; I soaked it up like a sponge."
Zilla sniffed
weakly at Mike's jeans and slowly began to accept him, not quite as
readily as
Boxer had leapt on Gemma of course. Finally, much to Mike's amazement,
the cat
ran her side along his leg and purred.
Gemma pointed
to the creature. "That is so weird. She hates men, feminist feline."
Mike took her
shoulder. "That's something I should probably tell you: I'm a woman."
"Oh!"
She faked a faint and sank into his arms. He laughed as she pulled
herself up
and retrieved the whistling kettle while Zilla slunk around, trying to
ignore
the high pitched whistle.
Through the
fifteen minutes they spent drinking their cups of tea Mike gained her
phone
number, house address, work hours, and few more essentials before he
glanced at
his watch and started to leave, apologizing profusely.
"I'm so
terribly sorry, I really don't want to impose any longer and I do think
Terrence one will be calling." He grinned as Gemma visibly remembered
Eric's crude introduction.
She squinted.
"Was he wearing that sheepskin coat, or did he have the caterpillar
eyebrows?"
He laughed as
she stood, considering this. "Caterpillar eyebrows, the other one is
Gilliam, or as I call him 'Gil.'"
She walked him
to the door, regretting having to see him off so soon. They stood side
by side
in the six-foot space that was her entryway.
"Thanks
again for saving my life out there, Michael. I really mean it." She
stood
seriously, eyes darting nervously.
He took her
hand once again. "Thanks for saving mine. Thanks for everything."
There was a
moment when Michael considered kissing her again, maybe just another
quick peck
on the cheek and a dart out the door, but as she began to stare at her
shoes,
he was happy enough to just give her hand and extra squeeze. She held
onto his
fingers with a resolute reluctance before Zilla mewled from somewhere
just
below them.
Mike coughed
and blushed. "I'll call you on Thursday." He muttered, turning
towards the door.
"Bye
Michael," she waved and smiled broadly. As soon as the door was shut,
Mike
gripped his chest and was startled to find that yes; his heart was
trying to
leap out of his chest. Gemma leaned up against the door of her home and
took a
deep breath, the smile on her face unwilling to leave, and she
unwilling to
make it.
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