A/N: I blame my overactive imagination for this fic. Plus I'm totally curious as to how two very strong-willed women like Gemma and Madeline would interact. Please enjoy this fic! Reviews are greatly appreciated.
Gemma rarely took vacations but damn, did she need a vacation. She was feeling more and more cramped inside what felt like a tiny, airtight bubble, staring straight into the eyes of the people she saw every single day for the past god-knows-how-many days and months and years.
"Why do you wanna leave Charming so badly anyway, Gemma?" Clay asked casually one day over his usual afternoon whiskey.
"I'm not leaving Charming, I just need a break," Gemma replied, her patience wearing thin with every dumb question being thrown her way. It wasn't fair that she essentially had to be fucking interrogated about a goddamn personal vacation. But she wasn't surprised, really. Any change, until otherwise proven, was unwanted, unnecessary and terrible change.
"I don't get why you'd need a break, though. I mean, you've fucking got everything you could ever ask for here at home," Clay gestured around the room proudly. Gemma sighed.
"I do have everything I want, you're right…except a bit of my own damn privacy. I'm going on this vacation whether you like it or not. I'm only gonna be gone a week, so I hope you can manage," she explained as she kissed Clay on the shoulder.
A few long, boredom filled hours in the air passed surprisingly quickly. Gemma was proud of herself for not needing to punch anyone for doing something stupid, which was always a sign of something good. She also managed to intimidate one of stewardesses into getting her a free sandwich. Truthfully, it wasn't something she was proud of doing but at least she could say it happened. Before Gemma knew it, she was in Miami, Florida. Gemma splurged and bought herself a room in a nicer than average hotel so she'd feel comfortable in this new place. After unpacking, she left her room to explore the vast beaches of Florida.
Truthfully, aside from drinking fruity, overpriced alcoholic drinks and tanning (with a little bit of swimming on the side) on the beach, she didn't plan anything to do. She thought that something interesting and different would just land in her lap without any extra work. For now, taking a relaxing walk on the beach seemed like the best bet.
After thirty five minutes of people walking by her as if she didn't exist to mind their own business, Gemma finally ran into someone who finally acknowledged her.
"You seem a little overdressed for the beach," the white-haired woman said between a drag of her cigarette. Gemma didn't go to the beach all that often. On the rare occasion she did, it was just to walk and so it only made sense to wear shows comfortable enough to walk in, jeans and a comfortable top. Now that she was in Miami, Gemma had to get used to wearing bathing suits at the beach. After all, the water was there for a reason.
"I could say the same for you," Gemma retorted. She kept her guard up. Just because the white-haired, cigarette smoking woman seemed harmless with her colorful top, her white sunglasses and plain pants didn't mean she could do some serious harm.
"Want to get a drink or something?" The white-haired woman asked in an attempt to relieve some tension.
"Now you're talking my language. I'm Gemma, by the way."
"I'm Madeline. Let me take you to my favorite bar and I can show you my favorite drinks." Madeline and Gemma smiled at each other as if to confirm the fact that they'd be fast friends.