Walking on Thin Ice: Chapter 8

Mike sort of fell into his house, eyes not seeming to see the rug all curled up Boxer's frantic running, and feet not seeming to realize that he needed to lift his feet over it in order to avoid tripping. He stumbled a bit and caught himself on the nearest couch, watching calmly as his dog came tearing out of the back room, the grin still there. When he bent to pet the animal, he discovered that whatever scent Gemma seemed to have been emanating had settled itself on Boxer's heavy black fur. He inhaled deeply and grinned as Boxer himself seemed pleased to smell of her.

The phone rang, just on cue for Mike to leave and avoid Terry from throwing hot coffee at John in the tiny BBC recording area.

He picked up it and grunted.

"Mike? That you?"

He nodded, grunting again. "Eh, yes."

Terry frowned, concerned. "You alright?"

Laughter filled up Terry's end of the phone. "Brilliant! I'm great!"

"Well, whatever you are, you should come over here right now. The others are on their way." Terry ignored the fact that Mike was quite possibly on a high from some sort of drug.

Mike's giggles couldn't stop. "Wh-where?"

Terry sighed. "My house."

"Oh, right. I'll be there in ten," he giggled again, unable to stop himself.

Terry sighed exasperatedly. "Mike, what's wrong with you? You sound like you ate a clown or just came out of a college dorm party!"

He barely suppressed the fresh peels of laughter. "I'm just in a good mood today, I guess."

"Mike," Terry's voice was flat and demanding suddenly.

He sighed again. "Whaaaat?"

"Did you bring a lady home last night or something?" He sounded unsure, but knowing his status with Mike, he bit the bullet and asked.

Mike's shoulders squared immediately, unsure whether to be offended or just to laugh again. "No, I didn't."

Obviously not convinced, Terry responded, "Whatever, just hurry up and get here!"

Agreeing he'd be there in no less than ten minutes, as promised before, Mike hung up and grabbed his car keys again. He eyed the still wagging tail of his dog and smiled. There was a heart-felt goodbye ("Don't crap on the sofa.") before he left for quite possibly another overnight stay at Terry's house. He sighed, barely catching up on his sleep as it was. He drove past Eric's apartment and turned onto the very familiar highway. He saw the tree that he had hit on the right hand side, when he had been heading in the opposite direction. He sighed and continued to drive, cast making everything a bit more difficult.

It was a very strange ride, he was in high spirits and didn't feel guilty about it. He thought, so long ago, when Eric had suggested he try the dating scene again, that the guilt would drive him mad and make him avoid women for a very long time. Three years was a long time, but he hadn't found anyone quite like Gemma in his "travels" and was happy to see he'd waited. It was of some condolence to find that he hadn't gone and dated every pretty little thing he'd seen after finally dragging himself out of the miserable depression that had taken him physically and mentally.

The first month had been the worst. He had felt so cold, so angry, and so sad for what felt like an eternity. All he could picture when he collapsed for sleep was her face, all he could hear was her voice, and the only thoughts that plagued him were guilty ones telling him that he'd just lost a wife and child to those bastards. And they had walked free; in fact they may have been the same ones that had attacked Gemma that very day.

For Gemma it had felt slightly different. Her life story was tattered and unpleasant, so when the only thing that held her onto her will of life was ripped from her, she was left naked and cold on the street, with nowhere to go and nothing to put an arm around her and protect her. She walked around in a daze, seemingly unfazed and unconcerned, but inside she was wailing and beating against the walls of her cage. Everyone who had once thought she was just mourning her loss at once discovered that she was still the person she was, though fragile and a bit more introverted.

That entire first month had been the hardest thing in her life since she had been kicked out of her own home at age seventeen, money for college and a bitter "good luck" to tide her over. To this day she didn't regret doing what she had done to get her kicked out of her own house at such a young age. She had met Jonas at her school prom, senior year. Not having a boyfriend since she was one of two girls in a family of ten children, she had gone with her best friend, a guy by the name of Travis O'Keef. She had a great time, talking to Travis, dancing with a bunch of his friends and finally meeting up with her crush, Quentin Whittaker. He had, for some reason, brought his older brother, a third year college student from Cambridge.

It was magic, Gemma was speechless as she was introduced to Jonas for the first time. He had looked much the same, eyes wide and face red. Finally getting over the other, they had spent the remaining hour dancing and talking. Gemma was certain she was in love that night. Jonas was certain he was going to date this girl and really get to know her. They kept it a secret so she wouldn't get in trouble at home. Three months, she was coming up on her first year at college, signed up for Oxford and still unsure of her major. Her parents left for the weekend and Jonas had come over. Discovered when the parents had returned early, having done something only married couples perform, she had been thrown out with bitter words.

Still, Gemma stuck to the fact that Jonas was the only one she had graced with her body and she would have married him, he was the one for her. She didn't care her parents didn't visit her, she had a place to live with Jonas who graduated the next year and became a journalist. He traveled, she studied. A month before she graduated from six years of medicinal studies on her degree, he had asked her to marry him and it had all gone well for her. She called her parents, told her close friends and cousins, siblings, strangers! She was so overjoyed at the prospect of marrying the man she had been in love with for six years that people began to gain a bounce in their step just looking at the couple.

A few months before they sent out formal invitations, Jonas died and Gemma was abandoned on the street, colder and less covered than when her parents had abandoned her. It was still healing. 

Mike pulled into Terry's already crammed driveway and parked. "Here we go."

"Come on in, Mike!" Terry opened the door and windmilled, trying to attract his distracted glance.

He slid inside the open door and sat with an exaggerated thump into his chair. Eric looked for a moment at his slightly hidden smile and twitchy set of limbs before taking a wild guess.

He sighed, catching Mike's attention. "The woman of your dreams just came to you in a dream and you spent an amazing afternoon with her, having sex until the early morn. You look fabulous, Mike, what the hell happened?"

The greenish blue eyes that Eric knew so well stared at him with the same smile. "Not that, that's for sure."

John and Graham arrived together, the latter looking rather beat and wearing yesterday's outfit. It was obvious he and David had gotten in another nasty row again.

"Well, what did happen then? You look like you did when I first met you!" He referred to overly perky and spontaneous single Mike he'd met, though he had been engaged. It seemed like the marriage and death of his wife drained him of his energy, but today was different; he had more energy than he could shake a stick at.

He grinned boyishly at the assembled parties. "Shall I tell you, or tell a story?"

John clapped his hands eagerly. "Ooh! Story!"

Eric leaned in like a small child, only this one happened to have rather a lot of experience with women for some reason. "Don't be afraid to go into excruciating detail either, Palin."

Mike rolled his eyes. "With a melon?"

They all grinned.

"Alright, so I was walking outside alone-as in without the dog for once-and I wanted to find something to do, so I was leaning up against my car thinking when I heard some street rats down the alley way, whistling and talking to somebody. I was sort of angry just at the rudeness of the lot, but the young lady they were harassing made this horrible mistake and turned around to talk to them. I heard her shout, and some chains clanking up on the dumpsters when this really nasty voice said something about a hard way and an easy way," he paused, squinting at John who was eyeing him suspiciously.

He squinted back. "Well, this doesn't seem to account for your good mood yet, so I'm skeptical yet."

"Hang on!" Eric said, accounting for the expression on Mike's face.

He and Mike scowled at John before continuing. "I guess the girl chose the hard way because there was a scuffle and then she fell out of the alley onto the sidewalk mere inches from where I was. She stood up and you know who it was?" He grinned.

Terry gasped comically. "Was it the Queen?"

Eric smacked him. "Stupid, it was Gemma!"

Mike nodded. "So I went commando on the guy's ass and felt all bad-ass having saved her. She-well, anyway-" He turned a light shade of pink.

"No you don't, Palin! What'd she do?" Terry interrupted.

He shrugged, playing it calm. "She hugged me." Here there was some very girly noises, mostly teasing. "We were both bleeding, so I walked her back to my house where we patched up. We talked for a bit, she signed my cast and such...ah, that's almost it..." He smiled again, drifting off in an unruly attention span.

Eric snapped his fingers. "Hey, earth to Mike! Come one, you can't leave us dangling here on the end of the story like this!"

"Alright, fine! She wanted a ride home-understandably so-but I asked her if I could take her out on Thursday, and she said she'd love to-" He cast his eyes down, smiling broadly.

There was an instant uproar around the table. Everyone went berserk and clapped, cheered, a few hugs were passed around once again trying to make fun of women's antics.

Gray shushed them all down, though his smile was there as well. "I don't think that's it, is it?"

Mike shook his head, shrugging. "I dropped her off, she invited me in for tea, I got her phone number, address, work hours, stuff like that. It's pretty much mandatory stuff in that sense. Her cat liked me. Oh! Anyway, I left and that's it."

As Eric stood up, he smiled briefly. "Well I think this is great, Mike, it's time you left the house with someone rather than me or Jonesy."

Gray giggled. "I could take you out, Mike, David doesn't seem to be too keen in leaving me with a house key right now..."

Mike stretched rather proudly. "Thanks but no thanks, Gray, got me a date."

More laughter before they got down to the serious work of being silly.

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Gemma was busy recounting the tale with her cousin, Noah, in her home while Mike recounted his own account with his friends. She sighed so many times she was sure she'd pass out yet she didn't. Noah rolled his eyes enough to ruin his vision further, and Zilla purred long enough to make a motor jealous.

"So I guess you're feeling a bit more-well, you're in a great mood, Gem." Noah said, smiling, though he was a bit leery of that Mike character and the crowd he hung out with.

She nodded. "I feel much better than usual; I feel like being a complete dork. You know, Noah, I was afraid if I ever looked for love again I'd be looking for another Jonas, but he's nothing like him!"

Noah's eyebrows went up as he sipped from the mug he held slowly. "Really?"

"Yeah, he's got a much better sense of humor, more willing to kid about things Jonas just rolled his eyes at. Not to mention he's an animal-lover to some extent; he has a dog." She paused, thinking carefully. "And I don't think he's as wreckless as Jonas was. More cautious and still managing to have heaps of fun."

Her cousin shrugged one shoulder. "He sounds great, I hope he treats you well."

She smiled. "I'll beat the living crap out of him if he doesn't."

Noah laughed, relief spreading through him, grateful she hadn't lost her sense of suspicion or openness.

"So, do you think this'll go anywhere?" Noah asked, placing his cup by the sink.

Gemma looked put-out suddenly. "I don't know. It's just a date, after all."

Noah nodded. "You're right, don't worry yourself like that yet. Sorry I mentioned it."

She looked up. "It's not your fault. I'm just not ready to make all sorts of expectations, this is the first date for Christ's sake!"

Noah smiled weakly. "Ahem, Gemma: 'Noah, calm down, after all, this is our first real date, nothing bad can happen to us. Promise me you won't tell.'"

She rolled her eyes. "That was ages ago!"

"Just be careful, alright?" He pleaded, standing up and pulling on his jacket.

Gemma nodded and walked him to the door. She walked to her phone and determinedly looked up her old friends' phone numbers in the phone book. "Time I get out of the house..."

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Wednesday was so incredibly long Gemma thought she might die, waiting for a phone call from any one of the four people she called, or possibly Michael confirming a pick up time for tomorrow. She laid tragically across the floor, stretching her legs out in all directions and trying to occupy her senses for a bit. There was a bit of reluctance in her stretching though, she felt rather conspicuous as she bent and retoned her muscles. Maybe it was time she went and did some real grueling physical activity. Like indoor volleyball, she kidded herself. She had been what her parents had called a volleyball prodigy. Her overhand serve was wicked on the down spin and usually left the few that could return the smack a little dazed and arms a little redder.

She smiled in her thoughts as she delivered yet another ace. There were hardships though, her team was unruly most times, not setting to the right spiker, setting to the back row, passing over the net to someone else's spiker and more, but that sport and that year held some of Gemma's fondest memories. She opened her eyes and gritted her teeth; she needed to get someone to help her get back on track here. Maybe if her old volleyball buddy Meredith returned her bloody call she could get out and find a good indoor court to practice on. This was high in Gemma's mind as she stood up and stretched over backwards, pulling on ligaments and tendons in her back and shoulders.

Zilla seemed to be quite at ease as Gemma's soft music played from the record player and her feet touched now and again to the carpet. Gemma's outfit was nothing short of horrid, her short black fabric shorts were already riding up far too much for her taste, and the sleeveless fitted athletic shirt was clinging to her figure in a desperate way. Her hair had been thrown haphazardly into a braid so it wouldn't choke her to death, and her dogtags removed. Except for the small cartilage piercing on her left ear, she was the epitome of normalness in a physical sense. She was, perhaps, a little more slim than most of her friends, but most of her friends seemed to be gaining weight as it was.

There was a loud low note singing out from her record player, low classical music playing softly and concentrating her movements to a fluid motion, and now as she straightened up and bent again for a hand stand, she started to think that maybe she was taking herself a little too seriously.

The phone rang shrilly from the other room, this time not startling either of the two occupants sitting in the living room.

"Hello?" Gemma panted slightly into the phone, holding it in the crook of her arm while mopping her face with a towel.

There was a slight pause. "Gemma? It's Mike,"

Her heart jumped into her throat. "Oh, hey! How're you doing?"

"Fine, I guess. I was just calling to see if you'd mind a lame date on Thursday as opposed to one of those 'knock your socks off' deals..." He smiled sheepishly.

She set her hands on her hips, face in a scornful twist. "What do you mean, 'lame?' How can it be lame?"

He laughed gently. "Well, for lack of better terms, I was going to suggest just a bit of walking in the downtown area with maybe some dinner afterwards." The phone cord he'd twisted around his index finger began to cut off the circulation.

She snickered. "Well, that sucks. I hope you're happy you've made a girl cry with broken dreams, Michael Palin!" She said quite sarcastically.

"I'm sorry!" He bawled, also quite facetiously.

"Walking sounds great, actually. And dinner sounds fabulous as well, though I wouldn't be surprised if the girl we're talking about here happens to bring her own money for the occasion..." Gemma finally sobered up enough to answer his inquiry.

He shook his head vigorously. "Oh no, don't bring anything! I want this to be my treat tomorrow,"

She sighed. "I can't make promises, you know. Never have been on a date without paying for something."

"Well, that's a habit you'll have to break right away." He chuckled gently, wondering just what this conversation was going to turn to.

She snickered. "We'll see just who wears the pants here, sooner or later."

"I'm beginning to see more and more sense in that Nietzsche quote suddenly." Mike joked.

"Which one?" Gemma inquired.

"'Courageous, unforgiving, harsh, and violent, that is what Wisdom wants us to be. Wisdom is a woman, and loves only a warror.' See, you'd have to be a warror just to smack wisdom upside the face and say 'Hey, I'm paying here!' only to realize that in the long run, you've only just spent another paycheck on another girl." He philosophized wisely.

Gemma laughed, seeing his point clearly. "To a man, that is how it looks. In my point of view it's just saying that I'm not afraid to invest a bit in this as well. See?"

He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe...maybe not. Maybe you like embarrassing the little people by flaunting your paramedics' paycheck at us lowly writers."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I love showing television stars that I also have money. Dream on!"

"I'm not a star!" He objected suddenly.

She giggled. "Think what you like, but opinions really aren't welcome here."

They argued and talked for an hour straight, laughter and much more going on between them. They talked about everything and anything, from how silly politics were to stuff as trivial as ring around the collar. Gemma was thoroughly enjoying herself when she caught sight of the clock and actually yelped into the receiver.

"I nearly forgot! I'm expecting a call from my old friend Meredith any time now, I'm so sorry but I do have to hang up now." She tried not to sound overly apologetic, but she could hear reluctance in her voice and in his, which made her smile.

He seemed to sober up from his silly mood instantly. "Oh! Well, I don't want to make you miss your call of course-Jesus, is that really the time?"

"Afraid so, funny isn't it?" She laughed nervously.

He cocked his head. "What?"

"Just funny that I hadn't realized an hour had gone by already." She murmured.

He smiled. "Time flies in good company, so I'm told."

She blushed alone in her home, embarrassment at the compliment spreading through her from her stomach out like a hot coal had just dropped there.

"How about I pick you up from your house at seven tomorrow? Is that too late?" His voice spread into her thoughts again.

She shook her head. "No, not too late! Perfect, in fact."

He grinned, glancing at Boxer who was gnawing on the rubber toy he'd fetched again. "Brilliant! I'll come by then and pick you up."

"Yes, brilliant indeed. And by the way, Michael, I don't think that your idea is the least bit lame." She concluded, putting a bit of bounce in her comment.

He smiled broadly. "Thanks for giving me an ego trip, Gem."

She shuffled her feet. "Talk to you tomorrow, bye."

"Bye,"

As she replaced the receiver to the cradle, she uttered a little gasp. Had he just called her Gem? Her heart fluttered violently; she hadn't even noticed! Anger at her own stupidity welled up inside as thoughts of Jonas filled her mind suddenly and unwelcomed. She felt a surge of despair as she wondered if she was supposed to be plagued with the thoughts of him when all she was trying to do was be happy and still remember all the great times they'd shared. She hoped he wouldn't interfere with her date tomorrow, but she still couldn't grasp on why it had hit her so hard that he'd come to call her Gem. It was a logical shortening of her name, quick and clean. She went and called him Michael, for cripe's sake, as far as she knew he went by it with his friends as well.

She smiled. "At least his friends are nice too, right Zilla? Jonas' had friends that gave England a bad name."

The cat gave her a look that simply commanded she stop comparing the two and move on. Gemma nodded in agreement; it was time to stop comparing every little thing about Michael to Jonas. She was having a great time so far with Mike, and didn't need to have to try to match up an exact replica of him; it would be painful. Mike was perfect being himself, just like she had loved Jonas for being himself and nothing more. It was stupid to try to compare the two, she liked them for their differences more than their likenesses.

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The night was young as he pulled onto the side drive of the small back street and took a deep breath. Nothing over-the-top had been planned, he hadn't even dressed too much more than he usually did. Maybe he felt a little odd sitting in his battered vehicle and trying to calm his nerves but he was nothing compared to the flitting mess inside.

Gemma was scouring her floor for her less worn in walking shoes, letting her shirt air out a bit more on her bed, and brushing her teeth at the same time. She felt not in the least prepared, yet she still wasn't panicked. Zilla just stared with a bewildered expression as Gemma tugged on her plain white blouse and folded the sleeves back so they didn't hang over her hands. She raced to the bathroom and rinsed her mouth before taking her shoes from a pile of winter wear collectibles and stepping into the brown patent leather. Her hair had been all dolled up for the occasion by a girl that she had met at the hospital, a young Spanish grad student by the name of Ximena. Gemma had loved her name and Ximena had loved Gemma's hair. She had stopped by to give Gemma her schedule and pay route for the new four day week and was instantly reminded of her love of Gemma's hair. So the girl had insisted on putting it up a bit more interestingly and as a result Gemma had a set of braids all wound together in what Ximena had called a "French Crown."

The result was a bit overwhelming. She had a traditional bun, all braided up and thrown together in seemingly no order and yet all in perfect places. Smaller golden red hairs had fallen out and framed her face beautifully; Gemma was self-conscious despite the look. The overwhelming part was seeing it from the back. All the reds and browns had melded together with the summer-streaked blondes to create a hair tornado that drew every eye in the hospital to her as she walked from the paramedic/nurse lounge. Even Jeremy had to admit that the bounce in her step wasn't bad, and the new hair style really helped her stop being so closed in. They finally got back their cocky, in your face Gemma that had taken a vacation.

Mike reached over to his door handle and paused. Maybe it was a bit too soon to go in, he was about two minutes early on his watch. He placed his hand back at his side and continued thinking.

Gemma continued to flit about, pulling on her hair impatiently and try to tug her shirt into its proper place, buttoning it up as she walked from her bedroom into the bathroom no less than eight times. It had been far too long for her on the dating scene, even longer for her date it seemed. She snickered at herself; this was going to be a fun evening.