I

Holly taps hesitantly on the door. She taps so quietly that it tells her just how worried she is that coming here unannounced was not a good idea. As if she didn't already know.

But it has been four days since Gail left her apartment bearing more resemblance to a polite, distant smiling stranger than the Gail she knows and wants back in her sights so badly. And it has been three days since she sent that message telling her much she missed her. And still no Gail.

And that return to radio silence means coming here unannounced is a good idea. It has to be.

So she thrusts her hands in her pockets and chews on her lips and waits patiently, listening to the sounds of general shuffling and then footsteps approaching the other side of the door.

Finally the door opens a fraction and Dov's frowning face peers out. He smiles though, when he sees Holly.

"Oh, hey, I wasn't sure if someone was there or I was hearing things." He yanks the door open wider.

"Hey, I was … is Gail around?" she asks, feeling clumsy and weirder than she has in a long time.

"Yeah," he nods, looking at her, clearly curious about what she's suddenly doing her, late on a weeknight. "I think she's in her room."

He turns as if to call out, but Holly hastily puts her hand out.

"Uh, it's okay, I'll just go check, okay?" she mutters, already stepping in the door.

"Okay, well, you know where it is," he says, rubbing his face and trudging back into the living room.

Gail's door is closed. She can't hear anything from behind it, but there is a soft amber light spilling out from under the door.

Again she taps quietly, feeling increasingly apprehensive about this surprise visit. She already knows how much Gail hates surprises.

"What?" she hears Gail grumble from behind the closed door.

Holly can't help a quick amused smile. Yep, that's her Gail. Always ready with the welcome mat.

She doesn't say anything, though, just opens the door slowly and peers inside.

She is sitting on top of the covers, leaning against the wall, her socked feet stretched out on the mattress, a laptop resting across her thighs. At the sight of Holly, she frowns, placing her hands on the frame of the laptop screen, closing it gently.

"Hi," she says.

It's not a friendly greeting. But it's not exactly unfriendly, either. Instead it's a mutt-ish mix of dubious, confused, and the question, what are you doing here?

"Hey," Holly smiles, ignoring her discomfiture. "Can I come in?" she asks, already partly stepping inside.

Gail, clearly still thrown by her presence just moves her chin in one slight, uncertain up and down movement.

Holly decides treat that almost-nod as unequivocal consent and steps right inside, already unbuttoning her jacket. Then she points to the chair under the window.

"May I … ?"

Gail just nods again, still staring, one eyebrow cocked at her.

Holly slowly pulls off her jacket and hangs it over the chair, a deliberate indication that this is not to be a flying visit. Then she slowly sits and smiles, stretching her legs out in front of her and crossing her ankles.

"So, like you, I can be kind of impetuous, too," she says. Then she smiles ruefully at Gail, who is still busy with the task of adjusting to Holly's sudden presence. "In case you didn't notice," she adds.

"O-kay," Gail says slowly, lifting up the laptop and placing it on the bedspread next to her, resigning herself to the sudden change of scene. Then she simply pulls her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees and guardedly waits for whatever it is that is coming.

Holly leans against the stiff wooden back of the chair, taking in a deep breath.

"So I started seeing someone else," she says, surprising even herself with this line of thought. She thought she was going to talk about the other night: the couch, the rash, foolish sex and the ugly awkward aftermath. But no, here she is talking about Rita. But helpless to stop the flow now it has been released, she goes on, attempting to explaining herself via a tangent she only just realised she was on.

"You wouldn't answer my calls. I didn't even know if you were listening to my messages and then I met this woman randomly and she was great and she was interested and it had been so long since I'd heard from you I really thought it was over between us."

Gail just continues to stare at her, wrapping her arms more securely around her knees, pulling them closer to her chest, lips pressed together.

Holly smiles regretfully at her again, shaking her head slightly.

"But it was way too soon to be seeing someone. But because I am ridiculously impetuous sometimes too—because I didn't give myself a minute to think about it—I didn't actually factor in that just because we were, by all appearances, over, that I might not be anywhere near done feeling about you. I thought that just because I wanted to be, that I could be."

She notes the flicker in Gail's eye, the twitch in her lip as she says those words. And she feels the warmth spread through her chest at the knowledge that this is penetrating at least.

"And she was great," Holly continues. "Really great. But it was impossible. There was no room for her. And the stupid thing is I should have known that already. I should have known it was unwise, but I did it anyway because I have a kind of terrible habit of just diving into things because I want them to work, because I want to distract myself." She shrugs. "Sometimes, sometimes this recklessness can turn out to be a good thing, like when I kiss straight girls in cloakrooms," she adds wryly, thinking of Lisa's words the other day.

Gail's lips curl upwards in a brief suggestion of a smile.

"But most times," Holly continues sighing. "It's just … "

"Stupid?" Gail finally offers, with a small crinkle in her eyes, one that tells Holly she knows just how unhelpful her input is but does not care.

"Yeah," Holly concedes, shrugging and smiling. "Probably."

They just look at each other for a moment.
Holly takes a deep, steadying breath.

"Can I ask you a question?" she queries.

Gail chews at her lip, those blue eyes still staring Holly down. Then she nods.

"Why were you really not calling yet?" Holly asks, staring at her. "I mean I get maybe why you haven't called me this week— because I did another impetuous, thoughtless thing that makes it kind of my fault you didn't …"

"I was there too, you know," Gail interjects.

"I know," Holly adds quickly, staring down at her hands, which are stretched taut against her knees. "I just— I don't know— you kept saying you were going to call, but then you wouldn't call and I was just wondering …" She looks back up at Gail. "Why?"

Gail leans head against the cream wall behind her, staring back, biting the inside of her lip, and taking her time as if deciding how to answer. Then she tips her head back a little, drags in a deep breath, and sighs.

"Performance anxiety," she suggests, shrugging and smiling slightly before it fades quickly to frown. "Like, if I don't say the right thing … I don't know …" she sighs and trails off.

She shuts her eyes, and Holly can see the long draw of her breath in the slow, deliberate up and down of her rib cage. Then she opens them, her gaze immediately returning to Holly, the helpless look on her face telling her that Gail has no idea how to even complete that sentence.

Holly smiles gently, feeling the inevitable wash of regret, that same feeling she has already felt way too many times these last few weeks. And she wants so badly to stop feeling like this.

So it was performance anxiety. Another point for Lisa. She sighs.

"I figured maybe it was that," Holly admits softly leaning forward in her seat. "Well," she corrects. "It was pointed out to me." She lifts her arms, crossing them over her chest. "God, Gail, when I asked if you'd talk to me, I didn't want … " She pauses, and takes another deep breath, and starts again. "You know, I was just so relieved to see you again, and so hopeful that maybe we could be okay, when I asked if you'd explain yourself I was really just looking for a way to get you to talk to me again, not asking for some big speech."

Gail just nods, fiddling with her earring and staring at her, lips pursed.

"So, I'm sorry," Holly stammers. "Because I really didn't mean it as pressure on you. I just wanted to talk to you. That's why I asked. And I thought it was your decision to make when that happened. But I really didn't mean it to seem like it was all about you having to explain yourself to me."

Gail nods again. And Holly is relieved when she grants her a small smile, issued in recognition of what Holly is trying so desperately hard to articulate.

You know, it's not like I don't have any explaining to do," Holly sighs, smiling at her. "So you know what? Let's take it in turns," she suggests, shrugging and hoping the ridiculousness of transforming such a critically necessary conversation into some weird game might be enough to release this moment into something relaxed enough that they can actually see it through.

"I asked you something, so now you ask me something," she instructs her, hopeful Gail will follow her lead.

And Gail just stares at her a long time, looking a little like a reticent but reluctantly interested animal, trying frantically to decide whether a tidbit offered is a treat or a trap before it makes its move.

Then finally she speaks.

"Why did you walk away that day, in the hallway?"

Holly lets out a breath. Well, that's a cracking start if ever there was one.

"I was really sad about us. And kind of angry with you," she said simply. "I was still angry for that silence, for your ignoring me, and for being weird all day and then for all of a sudden throwing your feelings at me. And I was angry with me too because I'd dug myself into this hole where the woman who'd hurt me was telling me the something I didn't even know yet that I most wanted to hear from her." She shakes her head. "And there was nothing I could do about it because I was late for a dinner with a woman I was quickly realising I had no business being with."

Gail looks at her for a beat and then lowers her chin and nods in the direction of her lap. She suddenly lets go of her knees, stretching her legs out in front of her again, before looking back up at her with a rueful smile.

"Well, I guess it's your turn, then."

Holly decides to hit straight back.

"How were you feeling the other night when you left my place?"

The response is just as quick.

"Like an idiot," Gail says simply.

Holly raises her eyebrows. "Why?"

"Because," Gail sighs. "Once again I was doing the hasty, stupid, self-destructive thing I always do, when I should have been doing things the way that I know I probably need to be doing them." She smiles sorrowfully. "Like, you know, thinking and talking, which for some reason is apparently easy for the rest of the world, but not for me."

Holly smiles at her, but takes in a deep, steadying breath. So many truths exchanged so soon. This night is already teetering on the brink of overwhelming, and they have only just started. But Holly also knows it needs to be that way right now. So she sits back, looking at Gail, expectant, ready for her turn.

"What about you?" Gail counters. "How did you feel?"

Holly tucks her hair behind her ear, smiling, glad of an easy one.

"Also like an idiot." she says. "And also because it was hasty and self-destructive and not what I wanted or needed to be doing right at that moment. Well," she adds quickly, "Of course I wanted it, but it's not what I should have …"

And Gail just holds up a hand. "Stop. It's my turn again."

"It is? Why?"

"Because it is," she nods, aloof. "New rule, if you give the same answer, the first person gets to go again. You copied."

"Uh, Okay," Holly says slowly, eyebrows raised. Then she gives in to a smile. Typical Gail, making up the rules as she goes along. Ridiculous contrary rules. But who cares, really, as long as they are talking. If this wasn't all so damn hard, Holly might be giddy with the relief of it happening.

Gail leans forward, crossing her arms over her chest. Her expression is calm, but there is a ferocity in those crystalline blue eyes.

"Why did you tell your friend you were just having fun with me?" Her voice flattens out as she asks the question, the hurt from that night making itself known all over again.

Holly leans forward, asking the question she already knows the answer to.

"Is that's what upset you most? Hearing me say that to Lisa?"

And Gail just gives her a withering of course look. But it melts a little as she holds Holly's gaze for a moment. Then she nods reluctantly.

"I think I was kind of shocked," she shrugs. "And I also felt really stupid. I mean, we hadn't talked about it at all, but I guess I felt like we were …"

She presses her lips together, halting her flow of words, rearranging them in her mind. Then she abruptly takes off on another tack.

"You know, when I got back together with Nick, I still fought so hard against it. I did everything I could to keep him at bay. Well, I pretty much do that with everyone," she says, half-shrugging again. "I did it with Chris, too. In fact, I think I did it with everyone I dated since that first time with Nick. I even do it with my friends." She takes a breath. "And then when I finally just caved and let Nick in, it was too late and he didn't even want to. He'd moved on. Again."

Holly just nods.

"Not that I regret it at all now, of course" Gail tacks on quickly, laughing a breathy laugh. "Obviously. But meeting you, I guess I just thought that because I had discovered someone who I really didn't want to do that with that of course they felt the same way. And then I felt really, really dumb when I realised I had just kind of assumed you were on the same page."

Holly just sits there for a moment, computing these truths.

This little rant is perhaps the most articulate thing she has ever heard from Gail about her emotional landscape, proof of what Holly has always suspected: that while Gail doesn't speak her feelings out loud that much, she thinks them a lot.

And she also, in a slow trickle of awareness, realises now this is partly her fault. Because she should have realised this earlier. She just assumed Gail would know by her actions how invested she was in the two of them. But really, she has known this skittish girl long enough to know she lives enshrouded in some sort of unshakeable self-doubt when it comes to such things. She should have known to say it out loud, even that early.

Holly lifts her glasses, swipes her hand over her eyes and then sighs, wishing life wasn't made so crazy difficult by these little fault lines between people, by these failures to get what needs to be gotten when it needs to be gotten. On both their parts. These last months could have been so different. So different.

"Gail, for one, you got it wrong" she corrects her softly, smiling. "I didn't say I was only having fun. I said I was having fun. And anyway, I said that to shut Lisa up. Because sometimes she really needs shutting up, in case you didn't notice, and because at that point what we were was none of her business."

Gail concedes a bare, brief smile at that.

"And I was having fun with you," Holly says slowly. "Such incredible, amazing, stupid fun. But no, it wasn't just about that," she tells her.

She hold out her hands, shaking her head and smiling. "I mean tell me you could at least feel that a little, right?"

Gail casts her eyes down at her hand, nodding. Then she looks back again, doing that little quick sideways movement of her jaw she does when she's ruminating on something.

"I thought I could," she admits finally. "That's the thing— it hadn't even occurred to me until right at that moment that I might have been mistaking what we were for something more serious than it actually was. That's why I freaked out."

"You didn't ever listen to my messages did you?" Holly asks. "The ones I left after that night, telling you how much I missed you?"

Gail shakes her head, frowning. Then a small smile escapes around her regret. "I didn't erase them, though," she confesses.

"And what about now?" Holly asks, smiling at Gail's pathetic/cute confession. "Do you really think that I was just in it for fun?"

"That's not fair. It's my turn for a question." Gail tells her, calling out her own avoidance tactics with a wry grin.

"No, it's a two-part question," Holly argues, because she wants the answer now. "This is part two."

And Gail just shrugs, caving. She lays her hands palm up on her legs and stares at them.

"No," she admits quietly.

"Gail," Holly sighs. "You are hot and you are hilarious fun. In fact, you are significantly, ridiculously hot. And you are so much fun. And when I met you, I hadn't had such a good time in so long. But you know, it's not just about that. I could talk to you through a hole in a brick wall for hours and still never tire of it."

Gail shakes her head at that, her sarcastic grin spiralling into a mocking giggle.

"You're an idiot."

"Maybe," Holly shrugs, not even caring about the weakness of her analogy. Not if it gets her point across. "And the thing I am most upset about from the other night is that maybe I buried that particular lead by sleeping with you instead of letting you know that," she continues, chuckling inwardly at the realisation she is borrowing Chloe's expression from the other day. Gail would just love to know that. "But also," she goes on. "I didn't want to bring it up, because I felt like I'd left it to you to decide when and how we talked, and I didn't want to be pushy about it."

Gail nods.

"But you should know," Holly says quietly. "And maybe I should have already told you, these are not just fun," she hangs air quotes around fun. "Feelings I am having for you. Not even close."

"Okay," Gail replies, offhand, nodding matter-of-factly as if they have just sealed a far more mundane, casual deal, perhaps over a sale of some second-hand good. Holly shakes her head and smiles. Gail is so frustratingly, endearingly contradictory sometimes.

"Are you done with your part B now, Holly?" Gail sasses. "Because I think it's my turn."

"Yes Gail," Holly sighs, grinning. "I'm done."

II

Holly wakes to the sight of a familiar/unfamiliar wall.

It takes her a minute to recall herself to the fact she is in Gail's room. That's mostly because she has never stayed here before, ever, and it's only vaguely familiar territory from brief visits to pick Gail up, or to collect something Gail needed. Gail always openly preferred Holly's place with its creature comforts, it privacy, and its distance from her gossipy flatmates. Besides, I don't want to have to get dressed just to go get snacks from the kitchen, Gail had pointed out one afternoon as they lay half-naked on the couch eating croissants and jam in the patch of sunlight streaming in the windows. And on those particular grounds, Holly happily conceded her place was preferable.

She slowly rolls over onto her back, yawning and pulling herself into wakefulness, swiping a hand over her eyes before opening them.

She is immediately greeted with the sight of Gail sitting on the bed in the exact same position she found her last night, laptop on her lap, same clothes still on, chewing on a piece of buttered toast.

Holly smiles at the exquisitely familiar sight of her eating and lazing, suddenly, incredibly wakefully glad she didn't decide to leave here last night.

"I don't want you to leave," Gail had said in a small frowning voice when, during a lull in their game Holly had checked her watch and mentioned the late hour.

"I still have more things I want to ask," Gail told her, practically pouting.

"Me too," Holly had smiled, assuring her. She didn't want to go either. She just thought she maybe should.

"So stay," Gail had said, simply, staring at her.

And Holly knew straight away that the invitation mean only that. To stay. Nothing else. And that was all she needed anyway.

"Okay."

And she just got up out of that chair, kicked off her boots and without an invitation she knew she now didn't need, she climbed up onto Gail's bed and sat there next to her, assuming the exact same position as Gail, leaned against the wall, legs stretched out before her, ankles crossed.

"My turn then," she had said, smiling, turning to face her.

And Gail just gave her a wry smile back.

They talked for hours, long into the morning. It was a sprawling conversation, punctuated by their turn-taking questions, spinning out answers around the sweeping territories of their pasts, their future and the painful but ultimately possible now. And the later it got, the easier it became to speak their thoughts aloud.

And Holly doesn't even remember when they went to sleep. She just remembers the night wearing down into softer edges, mellowing into a new intimacy, one of the thoughtful out-loud kind they have never had a chance to have before.

They didn't touch, either. Not once. But it didn't matter. That was not what this night was for. And when she felt the compulsion to touch her, to reach out for her, Holly did not give in to it.

She did not give in to it because she felt like she had a point she really wanted to prove to Gail about what this night was about for them— about something that was more vital in this moment than anything else— even sex— could be. They will hopefully have plenty of time for the heady straits of their passion again. But last night was altogether a different beast. And maybe this talking thing comes a little easier to Holly than it clearly comes to Gail, but it is still not something she is used to having to do in such a way, or so overtly.

But she also didn't touch her because once they got started she actually did not want anything to interrupt this relentless, addictive flow of un-stemmed words back and forth between them, anyway. This conversation so full of honesty and small but necessary revelations that might see them forward. This filled her with more hope than anything has in a long time.

"I have another question, by the way." Gail suddenly says, through her mouthful, breaking into Holly's morning reverie.

"I bet you do," Holly smiles, reaching for her phone on the floor beside her and squinting at it, worried about the hour and work and the fact she will have to leave enough time to go home first.

Without even looking at her, Gail automatically reaches out with her free hand for the bed stand, returning with Holly's glasses. She holds them out in front of her.

"Thanks," Holly mutters, smiling and sliding them on, still reconciling herself to being awake. She pushes them up her nose and the world shifts immediately into sharp focus. So does the time on her phone. It's still early. She has plenty of time.

"Are you working today?" she asks Gail.

"Uh, I believe it's actually my turn to ask a question, Holly," she mutters, smiling at the screen.

"Well okay then, sorry," Holly chuckles, bunching the pillow up under her head and rolling on her side so she is facing Gail. "What was the question?"

"What's with Boob Job?"

Holly frowns. Boob Job? Oh. Then she smiles. Lisa. Of course. She is surprised this didn't come up earlier, frankly.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you," Holly smiles. "She has a message for you."

"What?" Gail asks, eyes narrowed, immediately cagy.

And fair enough, too.

Holly grins.

"She said to tell you that you should know that she knows she is a judgemental bitch."

Gail turns screwing up into a dubious half-smile.

"Really?"

"Yup," Holly sighs. "She can be a total asshole, but she knows it. And she's actually really sorry for it, though she said she'd tell you that part herself one day."

Gail shakes her head. "I can't even imagine being friends with someone with that many rules. Someone that judgemental. Why are you even friends?" she asks, frowning.

Holly shrugs. "Because of all the awesome things you don't know about her."

Gail doesn't say a word to that.

"And you know, if she's really lucky, you'll still let her show you them one day."

At that, Gail pulls her best as if face.

Not wanting Gail to get away with feeling completely righteous, Holly changes tack.

"You know," she says idly. "I hung out with Chloe for a while that day I saw you at the lab."

"So?" Gail sighs, drawing her eyebrows together and giving Holly a brief, suspicious sideways glance.

Holly smiles. "You know, she's pretty awesome," she says, watching Gail pointedly ignoring her. "The way you had described her I thought she was going to be awful or at least crazy and kind of … dim witted or something. But she's actually a sweetheart," Holly frowns. "And she's smart and she's strangely insightful. She said some things that …

Gail turns on her with a mutinous stare, but Holly just smiles and forges ahead.

"Well, let's just say she made some pretty astute observations about you."

"And I have not even the slightest desire to hear them, Holly" Gail tells her through gritted teeth.

"Okay, fine," Holly says blithely, turning onto her back. "All I'm saying is that she seems like a really cool person, and you seem to have kind of knee-jerk judged the hell out of her."

"Okay, Holly," Gail snarls. "I get the picture. Lesson learned. I'll give Lisa a chance. Now shut up."

"Just saying," Holly shrugs, chuckling.

"Well don't," she grumbles.

But she smiles as she turns back to the screen.

III

"I'll see you soon?" Holly says, smiling at her in the sun-dappled entryway of the flat.

And it really is a question.

"Of course," Gail nods, smiling at her, clasping her hands, which are tucked inside the sleeves of her over-sized jumper, together.

They look at each other, smiling shyly like two strangers who just did something unbearably intimate together and don't know how to say they'd like to do it again sometime.

But because she can't leave without touching her, can't resist punctuating the affinity built by this tender but brutally honest night with affection, Holly steps in, reaches an arm out and wraps it around Gail's neck, gathering her into a tight embrace. And Gail immediately, silently acquiesces, reaching under Holly's jacket and encircling her waist with her arms, resting her face on her shoulder, taking in a breath and letting it out in a long sigh. Holly smiles to herself, breathing in deeply and placing a hand in the space between her shoulder blades. She smoothes her palm in slow circles around that flat, warm span of upper back. And Gail's only response is to slide her arms tighter around her waist, drawing Holly closer to her and turning her face slightly into the crook of her neck, so Holly can feel the in and out flush of her warm breath against her skin.

Weakened slightly by the pleasure afforded by this embrace, and reluctant to relinquish it just yet, Holly leans back against the wall, feeling Gail automatically move with her, pressing her weight slight against her. She buries her face deeper into her neck, one of her hands sliding up Holly's back, over the length of her neck and then tangling itself into her hair. Holly shuts her eyes and breathes in the mellow, light scent of Gail, feeling almost slightly sick with relief and with the best kind of sleep-deprived fatigue.

Time ebbs around them slowly, but neither move, unwilling to abandon the tender intimacy of this moment to the tyranny of distance, or to the comparative tedium of the day ahead. Neither of them wants to let go of this night they have finally been able to have.

Holly hears the sound of a door opening and closing, and voices coming down the hallway. They are talking loudly, something about dogs and cats, and then they quiet almost instantly as the owners of the voices register the tangled form of Gail and Holly in the entryway. Gail doesn't even flinch, just stayed nestled in the cocoon of their embrace, running her thumb back and forth along the nape of Holly's neck. The chat dwindles to a tangibly conspiratorial silence as footsteps shuffle past them and into the kitchen. Then the voices start again, a hushed urgent whisper. Holly smiles.

"If only they knew I didn't even so much as remove my bra all night, maybe they wouldn't be so intrigued." Holly whispers in her ear, running a hand through her short, morning scruffy hair. "In fact, not even the socks came off."

And she feels the faintest shake as Gail laughs silently in her arms.

IV

Holly is yawning through some notes in the afternoon when the message comes.

I know you were trying to prove some grandiose point by not jumping me last night. But don't you think maybe you took it a little too far by not even kissing me?

Holly smiles and types an instant message back.

No. No I don't.

Holly smiles, slipping her phone back in her pocket, almost able to see the withering glance Gail will be giving her phone right now.

But she doesn't. Not at all. They've got all the time now.

Thanks for reading. I guess it's still being a thing.

Oh yeah, and I just recapped the whole Season 5 Gail/Holly storyline on my Tumblr. The linky is in my profile if you want to read.