She was standing at the edge of a cliff, holding her breath, debating whether or not to take the fall.
She was scared. No, she was terrified. Gail never felt terror quite like this before. Being shot at, being in high intensity situations, that was different. The adrenaline was only temporary, her adrenal glands pumping the catecholamines throughout her body that forced her to decide against fight or flight. That was the intrinsic response that kept her safe until the threat was neutralized, the loser taken down and peace restored.
This was more of a slow terror, a chill that crept into her bones that kept her awake at night. For the past week she had lain there, tossing and turning, the shivering from the chill kept at bay only by the warmth that blossomed in her chest when Gail thought of her.
Ah, hello cliff.
For years, Gail only existed to fit the profile set out by her parents. Join the academy: check. Be the best in her class: check. Graduate from rookie to full officer: check. Be the Peck that Toronto needed her to be. But more importantly: be the Peck that the Pecks required her to be.
Somewhere along the way, she went from going through the motions to actually making the effort to be the best officer she could be. She actually began to enjoy it, which was scary enough in itself. She could never decide if the enjoyment was from the satisfaction of a job well done, or whether the Peck brainwashing had officially taken hold.
In the end, the results were the same. And tequila helped her to forget about the possibility that her parents actually won, and that she was no longer her own person but a stiff Peck clone.
None of her peers quite understood exactly the extent that her parents attempted to influence her life. They only saw her as an Ice Queen, a narcissist, and that's exactly what she wanted them to think. It was so much easier to put the walls up, to keep people from getting too close. The walls kept everyone seeing the soggy mess of self doubt and self hatred that she really was, and which could easily be used to hurt her. She trusted people… once. But not since she was a child and the Peck obligations began to weigh her down. Not even Nick or Chris caught a glimpse of who she really was. Neither of them cared enough to imagine that there could be more to her than the Peck shell.
Growing up Peck, any deviation from the Peck protocol resulted in disapproving stares and mandatory remediation. The outside world saw the Elaine and Bill that smiled for the camera, perfectly happy Pecks with perfectly happy Peck children with perfectly happy Peck careers. But no one but Steve and Gail knew about the hours of extra shooting, and running, and tutorage mandated in order to maintain perfection. And no one was there to hear the rants about their failures, or the rants about Toronto's less than perfect citizens: the drug addicts, the lower classes, and the gays.
Gail groaned, rolling onto her back and pulling the pillow over her face.
She knew the fight that would ensue if she allowed herself to be honest and admit her possible attraction to another woman. The outside version of her parents would be accepting, praising the diversity that she brought to the force. But the family dinners would be filled with silence, disapproving stares, and questions of where exactly they went wrong and why Gail insisted on always deviating from the expectations laid out for her.
They wouldn't understand how easy it was to spend time with Holly. They wouldn't understand that she could let her walls down with her – to be herself and to be loved more for it. They wouldn't understand that she felt more of a connection with Holly that she ever did with Chris and Nick combined, even now just being friends with her. They wouldn't understand the warmth that blazed in her chest when she thought of that crooked grin, the feel of her silky long hair, and her warm laugh. They wouldn't understand the other kinds of warmth that blazed elsewhere when she thought of the way Holly's glasses bumped against her nose, the way her lips felt soft and warm, or the feel of her tongue against her own.
Gail threw her pillow across the dark room with a huff, pressing her fist against her forehead as she suppressed a scream.
She was terrified. She was so scared to admit these feelings, this warmth, to herself. She was more scared to have her parents know, and to face the repercussions that would ensue. Gail knew that she had a decision to make. She could walk away, back into safety and never look back. Or she could hold her breath, take that step, and allow herself to fall. Fall into love. Fall into Holly. And damn well enjoy the flight on the way.
Gail stood there, holding her breath, waiting for the courage to take that step. She waited. And waited. And when sleep eventually took her in the early hours, she dreamed of a cliff with a warm embrace waiting for her at the bottom.