Comment: I'm lazy and impulsive so my fics may or may not have gone through a BETA and/or editor. Play along. Think of the mistakes as little gifts. You're welcome ;)

Holly thought she was great. This girl she was sitting with in the bar. Pretty, clever - a surgeon - accomplished, too, by the sounds of it. They talked about the latest technological advancements in their respective fields, of work, of home, of things they did for relaxation. The woman was a leader in her field. Holly's mom would be so proud she'd snagged a surgeon.

Holly stared into her drink, keeping tight control of her expression. Then why wasn't she? Why wasn't she proud? Why didn't she want this to go anywhere?

She listened. She did… she tried. She tried to listen. God, she tried her hardest and most of the time she was utterly tuned in. But every now and again she glitched and caught sight of blonde hair through the people walking, milling, moving and shifting. Except that wasn't what was supposed to happen tonight. This night was important. This night was her getting over the final remnants of that depressing, dragging, dead for over two years relationship that'd crushed her under the weight of it until now - until she was finally crawling out from under the debris. Two years. Two dark, lonely, airless years, living in a vacuum. This night was important.

Her peripheral vision offered up a fragment of blonde moving from a table to the bar. Except she knew 'that night' had already happened. Her fingers touched her lips. That night. Too much champagne had loosened her tight control and she'd... Holly caught herself and frowned.

Her words stumbled out quickly.

"Another drink?"

The woman smiled, frowning a little at her half full glass.

"Not for me."

"You don't mind if I do? I need some more ice."

Holly had no idea if the woman agreed or didn't. She made her way through the crowd. Familiar platinum blonde hair, that striped jumper, black pants, stood waiting at the bar. Holly took a deep breath.

"Hey," she managed, putting all of her chipper into it and as Heys went, it actually was pretty damn chipper. Overly so. Transparently overly so. Cringingly transparently overly so. All held so tightly under control because she'd had these last two years to perfect a happy exterior.

Gail's ice blue eyes turned on her with that confusing mix of indifference and magnetism.

"Hey," but with a voice that felt as soft as a caress.

Holly couldn't ignore the feelings that Gail inspired deep inside her. Breathe. Just breathe. This was about accepting your situation, making the best about the decisions you'd made - and sucking it up. Oh, wow, that was easier said than done. Everything with Gail felt odd, misaligned. She made her feel like something was happening even though nothing was. Nothing. There was nothing to happen. There could be fun and good times and laughs and companionship, and sure, she'd had some stupidly enjoyable - hilarious, actually - times with this eccentric, quirky, messed up, dark, damaged, wonderful, fragile, full of self-loathing, scared, brave, beautiful woman who couldn't see how magnificent she was.

"Still playing your trivia quiz?"

Gail shrugged, "It's a rematch. They're geeks. If you say Star Wars enough times you're bound to win points." Gail nodded over to the corner. "How's it going?"

Holly frowned, finally remembering who Gail was referring to a split second too late. A split second could be telling. A split second was a bullet that missed its mark. A split second could win or lose medals. Here it was the full stop to her date. Holly knew it had been coming but had hoped it'd take more than an hour to arrive.

Holly smiled. It was the same smile that Gail always inspired. Genuine, unstoppable, warming, calming - and real, so horribly real. A smile that Holly knew must expose her feelings for all to see. Except that was the thing with the unstoppable. There really wasn't much you could do. Not that Gail showed anything. Except when she showed everything in those few and far between moments when the heavy weight lifted from the blonde and she relaxed. Holly knew Gail wasn't comfortable with herself like that, as though it was a new style of top she was trying for the first time but wasn't sure how to wear. Kudos to Gail for her persistence though.

"Great." Because that's what you say when you're actually talking to the person who you desperately want to spend tonight with. "She's really nice." Because that's what you say when you really don't mean it. But you want to. You want to mean it so hard that it snaps you out of this improbable spell you're under. But then you wished you'd said neither as you watch the impact.

"Oh."

Your missile lands and explodes messily and everything is confusing and blinding as you try to figure out what was the most jarring. Was it the look in those blue eyes or the smile returned so readily or the lifted glass in a cheers, congratulations, I'm happy for you both. Or was it the turn and walk away, leaving you all alone in a crater of your own making. Was it your own hopes and dreams about what could, maybe, probably never would, happen between the two of you get crushed under the weight of your words and actions or, really, inaction. Or was it the realisation that the feelings eating you from the inside out were only yours. Holly's fingertips touched her lips.

Holly turned to her table, to the pretty, clever, accomplished surgeon and tried really hard not to think about the acerbic, sarcastic, witty, captivating blonde who'd made her want to crawl out from the rubble she'd been hiding under.

Holly walked back to her table and smiled. And she tried really hard to make it seem real.