Hello again :)

Thank you to everyone that read and/or reviewed. You guys have seriously made my day. I'm really glad you like the concepts and I hope to keep you interested right up to the end :) It's true, the season 4 debris is too demanding a task for me to attempt to clear up. But on the plus side I'm thinking this story is going to be a rather long one, because I'm really enjoying writing it!

I'll try to keep updates as frequent as possible without damaging my uni work out-put too much lol.

In short, you guys are awesome, please keep the faith, and reviews make me smiley!

Emily felt the stare. It scorched her skin like a laser beam from the first row. She nervously played with the ends of her hair, desperate to engage herself in any kind of activity, no matter how mundane, to avoid meeting the eyes that had been fixed on her ever since Naomi had gone to sit down.

Emily had learnt a lot. She had learned how to remain cool in the face of circumstances that weren't exactly what she was expecting. Her mind briefly flitted back to her college days, where she felt every emotion so intensely, so excruciatingly. The days when she couldn't keep her mouth and nerve centre away from each other for two seconds, and everything she was feeling stumbled gracelessly from her lips.

But she knew now, that was not the way to deal with things. That only frightened or enraged the people around her. And it was most definitely not proper practise for a librarian, part-time or otherwise. The tangled mess of hormones that was once Emily Fitch had been nicely straightened out and put in their place, neatly arranged and at their optimum state for someone like Naomi Campbell to thoroughly mess up again.

Emily visibly shook her head. No, that Emily had learnt. In fact, that Emily was grateful in a way. Naomi had taught her a lot. Taught her to calm down, taught her to know when to leave it, taught her relationships are hard work, taught her that sometimes it's just not worth it, and above all, she had taught her that a shattered heart can mend itself, given time.

Naomi frowned as the small brunette she had been studying shook her head slightly. It gave Naomi some hope, that somewhere, beneath the calm and collected exterior of the person she used to know, an internal monologue was babbling away crazily.

Emily went back to her list, counting up every name, every number, every tick. Naomi watched as she soundlessly mouthed the numbers, adding up, twice to make sure, then satisfied, folded the sheets of paper and moved from the table.

Naomi stared as the small, elegant girl confronted an older, more official looking organiser of the event, who nodded at her, making Emily smile. Naomi found the corners of her own mouth curl up slightly, before she stopped them sternly, and her face reverted back to looking thoroughly unimpressed.

And then Emily was gone. Gone through the double doors. Gone out into the corridor. Gone from her life.

Naomi sighed audibly. She tore the graduation cap from her head, suddenly aware she had been wearing it throughout her whole encounter with Emily. 'Fuck's sake,' she muttered as she ran her fingers through her hair agitatedly. She sank lower in her seat into an ungainly slouch, and tried to keep her mind on anything but the small girl who had been rudely plucked from her adolescence and plonked down right in front of her.

She tried to concentrate on the intensely boring procedure at hand, trying her best to keep her eyes on the people on the stage without letting her gaze drift off to the right through the doors to see if any small Fitch-shaped figures still lingered.

The whole process was painfully slow. Every single graduate took an absolute age to get up onto that stage, clearly hyper-aware of not falling over. Naomi imagined herself tripping up the steps on the way, reaching out to grab the nearest thing to steady herself, grasping at someone's trousers, causing them to fall down around their ankles, making them fall over, topple onto Naomi, and their combined weight causing the whole stage to collapse, and once the dust and wood debris had settled there she would be; her head sticking up from the rubble wearing that stupid hat, its tassel swinging in front of her face.

'Naomi Campbell,' her name being called jerked her out of her slap-stick reverie, 'BA honours, Journalism and Politics.'

Naomi stood up to the sound of clapping, and, deciding not to put on her cap, made her way to the steps of the stage. Effectively placing one foot in front of the other, she made it to the top, shook some hands, was gestured by one of the officials to put on her hat, to which she rolled her eyes and sulkily jammed it onto her head, took the piece of paper, smiled falsely, shook one more hand and made her way back down the steps.

As she reached the last step, Naomi saw someone stood in the dark corridor through the small portion of glazing of the double doors. Emily was smiling, her hands beating together reservedly to the rhythm of the applause from the auditorium. But before Naomi could really focus, she was gone.

****

'I'm so proud of you!' Gina exclaimed, embracing her daughter in a suffocating hug.

'Ooof,' was Naomi's response.

'Who'd have thought it, ay?' her mother continued without letting go, 'That little baby I wasn't expecting turned out to be a genius!'

'Mum ... can't breathe,' Naomi said, and her mother relinquished her grasp. Naomi straightened her cap that had been knocked into a jaunty angle during the public display of affection.

'Right then, what's the matter with you?' Gina asked.

'What?' Naomi asked, 'Nothing,' she said quickly before her mother asked the question again.

'Well, it must be something,' Gina went on, 'You look like you want to kill me.'

'Well then, all is as it should be,' Naomi told her with a sweet smile as they began to walk through the foyer of the ceremonial building. The summer sun was bright and warm, intensified through the full height glazed frontage of the foyer, and Naomi could feel herself cooking in her black celebratory robes. She shifted uneasily beneath them.

'Jesus Christ academia is chaffing,' Naomi muttered and she fidgeted with an uncomfortable label at the back of her gown. She had brought a change of clothes, uncomfortable in the smart black trousers and shirt she was required to wear for the graduation, but she most certainly didn't fancy sticking around near the auditorium of doom any longer than she had to and risk bumping into her past again.

She reasoned with herself. Emily had clearly disappeared since she'd seen her briefly in the corridor, and the ceremony had dragged on for what felt like hours since then. It wasn't like she hadn't looked for her. In fact, since leaving the main hall she had done nothing but scan the place, as casually as possible of course, not really knowing if she was hoping to find or not find Emily. Besides, if she changed in a locked in a toilet cubicle, it would be pretty difficult to bump into anyone else, unless something really strange happened.

She handed the graduation cap to her Mum telling her to 'wait two secs,' and walked briskly down the corridor past bustling pockets of the capped and gowned and into the women's toilets as quickly as possible, not wanting to been seen or heard.

Once in the quiet oasis of the fluorescently-lit toilets, she sighed heavily, and turned to face the door to inspect it for a locking mechanism. She found an old rotating catch and thankfully swung in into place. She walked over to the basins fixed to the wall below the mirrors. She leaned forward on the straightened arms she rested on the rim of the sink. Her reflection looked tiredly back at her. 'Fucking typical, isn't it?' she asked the blonde girl in the mirror, who seemed to agree. They shared a knowing look across the shiny surface, remembering painful tweaks of lonely nights being made to feel untouchable, unlovable, destructive and unwanted. She frowned at her sorry self, 'Fuck's sake,' she told the reflection, mentally commanding it to pull itself together.

Turning on the tap she held her hands beneath it and splashed cold water over her face. Its icy bite felt like the satisfying slap she needed to snap out of it. She had spent countless hours agonising over Emily Fitch. Agonising over what she had done, over what she could have done differently, over how she could have won her back. In the end she'd convinced herself it was for the best. Emily's sense of betrayal was cold and unrelenting. Naomi had really had no choice but to let her go. Four years on, she shouldn't still have to be dealing with the consequences of that decision.

She wiped the water from her face with the back of her hand and kicked off her shoes. She then struggled out of her gown and was in the process of un-buttoning her shirt when she heard the bathroom door swing open. Her head snapped up. In the mirrored image of the room she saw her, small and stunned in the corner of the mirror.

Slowly, Naomi turned round, 'That lock doesn't work, huh?' she asked. Great.

Emily, eyes still wide from the shock of who she'd walked in on, turned to inspect the door. She thumbed the catch open and closed, noting the lack of difference it made to the functioning of the door. She shook her head dumbly.

'Well,' Naomi said, 'At lease I wasn't prancing about here in the buff,' she said, more to herself than to Emily.

Emily frowned, finding her voice at least, 'Why would you be doing that?'

'Because I thought the door was locked.'

'This is a public toilet.'

'I'd thank you not to judge.'

Emily twitched her mouth, her gaze darting awkwardly around the room, looking for anywhere to rest other than Naomi's half un-buttoned shirt.

Naomi suddenly realised and cleared her throat, pulling together the separated garment and demanding of Emily, 'Are you just going to stand there?' she immediately regretted her harsh tone.

'No,' Emily answered defensively, 'I came here to wee.' Instantly, Emily felt like an idiot.

'Wonderful, please don't let me stop you,' Naomi said sharply, circling her hand in a 'go right ahead' motion.

Emily disappeared into a cubicle, and Naomi did the same.

Emily heard the soft crumpling and swishing of material as Naomi changed. The shadows on the floor flickered from beneath the partition wall as the girl struggled around in the confined space. Several times Emily heard bangs followed by muttered curses. It was hard not to picture the increasingly agitated, half-naked girl that was separated from her by plasterboard a mere few millimetres thick.

Emily shook her head free of those thoughts that were no longer a part of her life and unlatched the cubicle door. Now would be a very good time to not be here, she surmised. She washed her hands quickly and made for the unlockable door.

She heard a latch release as Naomi appeared from the cubicle, looking flustered and utterly beautiful, free from the confinements of formal wear.

'Emily,' she said quickly, before she disappeared from the room.

Emily paused, her hand on the door handle.

Naomi opened her mouth to say something, but something big and heavy squashed it on the way down from her brain to her mouth.

'... See you around.'

'Yeah.'

Then she left.

Naomi stood dejectedly in the empty room.

Naomi's reflection shot her a scornful look.