Homecoming

Author's Note: Okay, so- AU High School Rookie Blue. I have a thing for badass!gailpeck, okay? This, I think, will be a 3 parter. Review if you're so inclined and let me know what you think. Depending on Wednesday, I may or may not just want to crawl into a hole. This makes me feel better about that. No beta, all the mistakes are mine.

Synopsis: You remember the first time that you saw her- all gangly legs yet to sprout to their full, beautiful potential; dark long, frazzled hair pulled up into a messy bun and knotted at the base of her skull. You remember the gleam of her eyes behind the thick shine of her black rimmed glasses, the stupid red lunchbox that (as you later learned) always, always encased an apple and an ecto cooler juice box.

Rating: Got a bit of a love scene in the next couple. So, T.

You remember the first time that you saw her- all gangly legs yet to sprout to their full, beautiful potential; dark long, frazzled hair pulled up into a messy bun and knotted at the base of her skull. You remember the gleam of her eyes behind the thick shine of her black rimmed glasses, the stupid red lunchbox that (as you later learned) always, always encased an apple and an Ecto Cooler juice box. You remember it all because that is the moment that your mouth went dry, your heart nearly beat out of its chest. For some reason, you took one look at her and your heart- so long frozen and stilted- it looked at her and it screamed and it said, this one, this one, this is the one I choose- and in that moment, at thirteen fucking years old- you'd fallen in love with that girl, fallen in love with someone you'd never even spoken to.

So, you watched her. You watched her that whole year, never speaking, never even acknowledging her existence, simply peering and studying her- this girl who captured you so, who made you feel unlike anyone you'd ever met. And you'd met her eyes a few times by accident- yes- and had been met by that disarming half-smirk that you'd found she reserved for a small few lucky souls- but still you'd looked away, all shy eyes and hidden smirks when she'd safely looked away.

The day that your mother had announced you were moving away- the life of a military brat, she'd mused- you'd felt your heart plummet. The people- mostly teachers- who'd found out about your situation had wished you a farewell full of promises of better schools, better friends.

The memory that sits at the forefront of your mind of the last day, though, is a simple one- you'd stood at your locker haphazardly and somewhat regretfully emptying it of its contents. A light tap at your shoulder had startled you, only to leave you staring down a formerly empty hall all of a sudden filled with gangly legs and melancholy brown eyes. Rapid, spoken words and a sloppy kiss to your cheek are all you are left with before those legs are retreating down that empty hall.

"I'm going to miss seeing you around, Gail Peck," she'd said, her dark eyes slightly darting around the hall.

And then it was those lips against your skin.

You'd attached your palm to that burning cheek.

It had taken your mother's questions and nagging ridicule throughout the evening and the next day to finally remove it and the goofy smile from your face.

When you return to your bursting metropolis, you are seventeen years old- all pale burning eyes and snarling lips. The lessons you have learned throughout your years away are not ones you hope to repeat and you find yourself retreating into yourself, looking for any reason to cash in on anyone else's weakness so they don't take advantage of your own.

You find that after a few well placed barbs and snarls that people don't look your way, try much when it comes to you. That is, until the day you see her again.

It takes a few glances, a few prolonged stares before you see the light come on behind her eyes, the recognition form on her still beautiful features.

You don't blame her- your shoulder length auburn locks long gone and replaced by a bleached blonde pixie cut, the hoodies and soft cotton pants traded for ripped jeans and a comfortable vintage leather jacket. You were changed, you couldn't deny that. Physically anyway. Because for some reason, at the turn of those lips and the recognition in her eyes, you can't help but feel every bit as young as you had been when you'd fallen for her in the first place.

Time, it seemed, had done nothing to banish this girl from your pounding, fragile heart.

The day that the confirmation happens, you're in the A.P. English class your mother signed you up for last minute. The first day and you chose a seat in the very back of the class, hunched over and buried deep into the soothing supple leather of your favorite jacket. You hear her name, try to ignore the pin prickling on the back of your neck, the raising of your all of a sudden chilled skin. Count the seconds, breathe through the tight knot of anxiety, anticipation that rattles in your chest.

And then your name called and the muffled confirmation from your own mouth.

The feeling that comes over you when your name is uttered and a brunette head is turning to you with wide eyes encased in dorky, adorable frames, mouth twisted in a smile you can only describe as hopeful and altogether startled. It's a feeling that you were sure you'd never feel again. And really, you were okay with that because while it makes your heart race and your blood sing with untapped potential, it also fills you with a fear you've never really felt before, either. A fear that feels like falling and never knowing when you'll land but even worse, if you do, that it will hurt like the absolute flames of hell whenever it eventually happens.

So you shake your head and ignore the look, ignore the curiosity.

Instead, you study her to learn what you'd missed over all those important years and what you found- what you found didn't help you in the slightest bit.

Because Holly Stewart had grown taller, yes, and of fucking course all the more beautiful and athletic and tan but even worse, she'd grown into a beautiful person, too. Like in the Mother Theresa way and she walked sheltered dogs and volunteered for the homeless shelter and ran 5K's with those beautiful legs to benefit other non profit organizations. Because of course she does. Of course she's pretty and popular on the A honor roll and you-

You're just Gail Peck. Gail Peck who barely makes it to school on time, who takes the classes her mother dictates. Who stares at the pretty girl but knows- knows there is no future because regardless of the want and the desire, you know- you know come graduation day, you're getting fitted for the crisp white uniform all those before you have worn. You know where your fate lies.

Holly Stewart is full of promise and light and goddamn greatness. You- you're not sure but you know that anything you do will follow under the shadow of your name, under the shadow of their heroism.

So, you ignore her and try your best to glare anytime that smile lands your way, anytime her deep brown (Goddammit, do they have to be so fucking gorgeous?) eyes. But you can feel the walls crumbling, feel the defense waning. You know you're on the verge of letting go of all that you decided you held so dear. But still, you held fast. For whole minutes. Days. Weeks, even.

And then, then the plan had all gone to hell. Because there was a party and there were drinks and you are a lot of things but strong or less than honest in the face of alcohol was something that you never claimed to be.

Patricia Cornwall is a bitch. A rich one, though, so it makes sense that her parents have fucked off to the Hamptons for the weekend and left her to her own devices in her huge house. It makes all the sense and yet you can not fathom the fact that you are there, your loser cronies that had leeched onto your reluctant side sometime in the first semester on either side of you and rubbing their hands together at the potential for the evening, even as you are scanning the crowd in distaste and looking for any excuse to leave.

But then Chris and Dov retreat, off to conquer the female masses, and you're left to sulk and glance around the crowd, content to sip on your own bitter beverage in the corner. No one comes up to you, no one talks to you, you simply stare off into space, delighting in the buzz the echoes throughout your limbs as you continue to drink your whiskey and Coke.

But then- then there's someone beside you and you move to bark at them, to scare them off, because no one comes up to you un invited but it's her.

It's Holly and she doesn't even look at you, simply tucks one hand behind her body even as she flattens her back against the wall, cradling her drink with the other hand and although you try your best not to glance out the corner of your eye you do and you see the wry smirk on her face before she speaks.

"You've changed quite a bit, Miss Peck," she says, staring straight ahead and sipping on her red Solo cup.

"Yeah, well- it's been a while, hasn't it, Stewart? We can't have all bloomed into beautiful triathletes, can we?"

The words are out of your mouth in a second and you close your eyes both embarrassed because holy shit you'd admitted you thought she was beautiful but also- also that was so fucking snotty you cannot believe that those were the words you thought she deserved to hear after five long years of radio silence-

Her laughter breaks through your thoughts and you're startled but then you're laughing, too, breaking it only to sip once more at your glass, the burning of your throat spreading to your chest and making the interaction more fluid, more fun.

And then you both have somehow found yourselves tucked away in the quietest corner in a small room somewhere upstairs in the palatial estate, talking and teasing and maybe- maybe, just maybe- flirting a little- when she looks at you, finally turning her head toward yours and smiling that smile full on at you and you're lost. Lost enough to smile back, to tuck your head bashfully down when she tells you she's missed seeing you in the hallways at school. You shake your head, knock her shoulder with yours and scoff. She's laughing and knocking you back, waiting for the mirth to settle, your eyes to look back onto her face before she's speaking again.

"You're...an interesting subject to study," she says, her tone teasing, her eyes dancing at your slightly glazed look of inquiry.

You shake your head and laugh to cover the trembling of your vocal chords, the erratic flitting of your eyes over her face. Eyes that no matter how hard you try settle on her full lips, still stretched into a slightly tipsy, dopey grin.

There's a moment, then. A moment when her grin falters, when she notices how close you both actually are to one another. A moment when her eyes dip and her lips comes out to catch a full bottom lip.

The pounding in your heart schoes in your ears as you find yourself unable (read: unwilling) to move. A slight intake of breath, the slight mingling of both of yours before her lips have settled softly onto yours. It's chaste, almost non-existent, but your eyes close and your lips purse and your body- your body explodes.

And then it's over. Then she's pulled away with a look you can't quite place on her features and you open your mouth to say something, anything-

And then there's a pounding on the door, the knock of it sending you skittering away from her, putting great and vast distances between you. Dov's voice pulls you away. You haphazardly and hurriedly depart her company with promises of later and tomorrow and next weekend.

Even you can feel the strain, the lack of conviction in your words as you throw them over your shoulder. Because you know you don't plan to speak to her, to contact her. You've never been brave, never had the real courage to- to grasp the things you so want in your life. This girl, this- this young woman, she's been away from you for so long and yet she reads you better than anyone ever has, knows you more, you realize, than you know yourself.

And so it's with a heavy heart (heavy fucking heart? Try sunken, steel stomach, dry cotton mouth and nausea of the likes you've never felt before, sweat stained skin marring your complexion) that you close the door of Dov's car behind you.

But it's when Dov starts to pull away from the party in his parent's old Corolla when you see her out of the corner of your eye, tucked behind a pillar on the wrap around porch with imploring, disappointed eyes. And suddenly- suddenly you can't fucking stand it.

He stops the car when you yell your objections, tell him to wait, your heart all of a sudden in your throat, grasping hold of your vocal chords with clammy, shock ridden hands.

You knew he would. He doesn't even ask as the car barely rolls to a stop before your feet have hit the ground.

The door shuts loudly behind you, your steps pounding the floor as you stalk toward her even more so. You snatch her wrist from her side and drag her beside the house far from curious stares, eyes all dark despite their color, determined and cloudy. And then you're asking so many questions-

"Did you really miss me? Why are you always- I mean, you barely know me and I- Holly, what the hell-"

But the questions that are echoing in your brain and clouding your judgment are all of a sudden gone because her lips are on yours and her tongue is swiping over your bottom lip and God help you, you're guiding her roughly back into the brick facade of the house and nipping at her bottom lip with your teeth and you're gone, gone, gone, immersed in the warmth and the steadfast strength of her kiss.

"I missed you, Gail," she's whispering against your lips, "I've missed you a lot. Until I saw you again… I don't think I knew how much."

A gasp as you settle fully into her, your body blanketing hers.

And this time, you don't hold back. This time you thread your fingers in her hair, dip into the sweet cavern on her mouth and gasp when her hips begin to move in tandem with yours. Feel the smile against your neck when she's biting the tender skin there. And even as your eyes close, and your mind begins to doubt and to whisper long heard doubts into the recesses of your mind, you kick them away, choosing to rest in the comfort and home of her arms.

Review if you're so inclined. Will be posting the rest of this story this and all the other stuff I have in the next week. Trying to purge myself of the Golly angst once and for all.

Thanks,

Whit