Walking on Thin Ice: Chapter 7

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.

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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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