"Gail."

A voice coming from my left makes me turn my head. Chris places his beer on the counter and takes a seat on the stool next to me.

"What, Chris?" I turn my gaze back to the counter. It's been a long work week and I just want to drink. I've already had three shots, I think. Now I'm just washing everything down with a beer.

He hesitates, then takes a breath before blurting out, "What's going on with you and Holly?"

My heartrate immediately quickens and I remind myself to take a deep breath before responding. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I hear you and her talking on the phone every night in your room. You make me drive you to the coffee cart thirty minutes before shift starts every morning so you can meet with her. What's going on?"

I take a long drink from my beer. Chris is calling me out again. Why does he always have to do this? Why does he have to make me talk about "my feelings"?

"Gail, you can't avoid talking about this stuff forever."

"Shut up Chris." Yes I can. I can bottle these feelings in. That's what being a Peck means. You swallow your own feelings about anything and just do your job. I've been doing it for the past 20 plus years. Who's to say I can't do it for the next 50 or 60 years?

"Gail. Come on. You don't think I know what's going on? Listen, I know we dated, but that doesn't mean I'm going to be some crazy psycho ex who doesn't care about you. I still know you and we're still friends. And because we're friends that's exactly why I'm pushing you on this."

Damn it. I know he's right. He pushed me the first time to call Holly all those nights ago when we were hunting for Ford. I reach for my beer bottle again and feel the coldness against my palm. It's the total opposite feeling of Holly's hand in mine.

We both fall silent. I don't want to talk about this. I don't. I like keeping Holly to myself. It's my secret, and my secret alone.

"It's okay Chris. I can figure it out."

"Maybe there's nothing to figure it out. Gail, if you're scared about coming out—"

I interrupt him coldly. "Chris, I'm not scared of coming out. That's not what this is about. It's about just being with somebody and playing it by ear. I don't give a damn that Holly's a woman. I really don't."

That shuts him up. And now I understand why he wants to talk about Holly to me. He's afraid that I'm scared of my sexuality. Whatever. I could care less about all this sexuality business. And everybody else should think the same way. I'm not scared about it.

No, I'm not scared about that at all. I'm scared of being hurt again. I'm scared of being left behind. I'm scared of committing my emotions and having the person leave them in the cold and driving over them without looking back.

I'm scared of messing this one up. I'm scared that I'm going to run away screaming first so I can't get hurt. After Nick left me for Andy, I closed the relationship door, locked it, and threw the key in the deepest ocean.

Chris is undeterred after a moment of silence. "Fine. Fine, if that's not what this is about, you still need to set things straight with her. What if somebody else comes into her life and because you guys never defined your relationship, she leaves? Would you want that?"

Damn it, Chris needs to stop calling me on my shit.

"Okay Chris, I got it. Geez." I call the bartender over and order two more shots. I hand one to Chris and command him to drink with me. Drinking is always a good way to get Chris to shut up. We drink and I feel the harshness of the alcohol in the back of my throat.

I slide off the stool and leave money for the drinks. "I'm done for the night. I'm gonna head out. I need a walk."

"Okay fine Gail. But you really can't avoid this forever." He calls after me as I walk away from him. Oh please, I could avoid it for a hundred years if I really put my mind to it. I'm the master of waiting things out. I can be stubborn as hell when I want.

I push the door open and shiver as the cold air hits my face. I zip my jacket all the way up and start a brisk walk down the street, away from the Penny.

It's been three weeks since the night in the hospital waiting room. Swarek's been awake for the past week. Price is awake too, but she's still in critical condition.

Holly and I still talk every night. You would think with all the time we spend talking that we would end up running out of things to talk about. But that never happens. She's an intellectual creature, that Holly. She teaches me about her field and so much more. I learn about philosophy and I learn about history. She talks about Socrates one night and Marco Polo the next. I wonder how she has so much knowledge in that brain of hers. Maybe she's reading from an encyclopedia during our phone conversations. It's kind of inspiring, in an endearing way. I don't think I've ever had any kind of relationship or friendship where this many words were exchanged.

Chris has a point though. I don't want my stubbornness to bite me in the ass. I like Holly. And even though she's never said it out loud, I think she likes me back too.

I walk without a specific destination in mind. Of course, when I finally stop walking, I'm in front of Holly's apartment door. I think I may be more drunk now than before I left the Penny. Damn that last shot. I don't think I would have walked here if I were completely sober. I cough and gather my courage. Right now, I literally have no words in mind. But my hand raises of its own accord and knocks raptly on her front door.

"Gail?"

I blink and sway and I realize Holly has opened the door.

"Hey," I grin sheepishly and give a lame wave. She looks really comfy in a giant sweatshirt and sweatpants. She looks like a blanket that I just want to wrap myself with.

Holly looks amused and leans against her doorframe. "What's up? This is an unexpected visit."

"Hey."

She smirks. "You've said that already."

Oh. This time I really forgot.

"I was at the Penny. You weren't there." I try to explain myself to her. And to myself too, I think.

"Yes, I know," Holly keeps smiling and adjusts her glasses. I like it when she does that. "I was here, reading."

"I think I have an obsession with you," I blurt it out before my brain can stop it. Gail Peck, you're an idiot. You just showed your entire hand to the other party. You're not supposed to do that until the end of the game.

Holly crosses her arms and tilts her head. "Not…like in a creepy way right?"

"No!" I gasp exaggeratedly.

"Okay then. That's totally fine with me. I like being the object of somebody's non-creepy obsession."

I look down at my feet and shuffle them. Isn't this the part where she's supposed to say something back? Except she's saying nothing at all. All of a sudden, I'm very aware of how idiotic I must seem. She probably knew from the start of this visit how idiotic I'm acting. This was a complete fool's errand.

"That's it, I guess. See ya." I turn around quickly and almost stumble into the wall. Smooth. Very smooth, Officer Peck. Mistake #1: Showing up at Holly's door half drunk. Mistake #2: Telling said Holly that I have an obsession with her. Mistake #3: Acting like a drunkard while trying to make a quick exit.

I hear her laugh and step out from her doorway. "Gail."

"Yeah?" I bite my lip but I don't turn around. I need to gather my dignity.

"Come in for a bit, okay?" Her voice is gentle and inviting.

"Okay, I guess I could stay for a bit," I try to pass it off nonchalantly. I'm not sure I could make it back home anyway right now. I turn around and see her standing in the hallway, still smiling.

"Yeah, I know how busy you officers are. Thanks for taking the time for coming all the way out here," She's joking, I think. I can't really tell in my drunken stupor. I think the alcohol is really starting to get to me now. I follow her into the apartment.

It's warm and cozy. It's not giant, but it's comfortable. Just like her. Holly walks into her kitchen but points to a couch in the living area.

"Sit."

Normally, after that sentence, I would have said something along the lines of "I'm not a dog," but I really do want to sit on that couch. I'm not sure how much longer my legs are gonna hold up.

I collapse onto the couch and groan. I'm never getting up from this couch. How can a couch be this comfortable? I curl up in the corner and cross my legs under me. I look around and see Holly reaching into her kitchen cabinet for mugs. She prepares two cups of tea and brings them over to the couch. She sits next to me and is about to hand one to me when she suddenly withdraws the cup.

"What?" I demand.

"Are you sober enough to be holding one of my mugs? You can't drop it okay? I really like this one." She frowns and scrutinizes me closely.

"Come on, Holly, I walked here. I'm fine. Just give me the damn mug. What's so special about it anyway?"

She hands me the mug almost reluctantly so I can take a closer look at it. It's just a mug with a portrait of some dude with fancy clothes and white hair.

"I got it as a gift."

"A mug with a picture of some guy with white hair?"

"FYI, that's Mozart. My…friend got it for me when she travelled to Austria."

"Oh. I didn't know you're into classical music too." I sip from the old white guy mug and am pleasantly soothed by the tea. I shouldn't even be surprised, actually, that Holly is into classical music. She's into philosophy and history. All the typical old people boring stuff. At least, that's how I used to see it. Now I guess I find it a little more interesting. Or maybe it's just because the source of the information is a lot more interesting than my professors and teachers in school.

"Yup." She sips from her mug, which has a similar guy with fancy clothes and white hair, except his hair is a lot crazier.

"Is that Mozart too?" I point to her mug.

"No, this is Beethoven."

"How can you even tell? They almost look exactly the same," I protest.

"I can tell," she turns her head to me and smiles knowingly.

"Fine." She can tell, Miss Encyclopedia over here. I decide to drop the subject. And go back to the one I started in her doorway. I need to know. Damn Chris and him introducing doubt into the back of my mind.

"Holly."

"Gail." I can sense slight bemusement in her tone.

"I'm trying to be serious here." I rotate my body so I'm facing her completely. I need to face her and face this head on.

"Yeah, I can see that. You being drunk and everything, you must be really serious right now." Holly leans back against her couch and puts her feet up the coffee table in front. And I notice she's wearing slippers for the first time. She's wearing bunny slippers to be specific. What is up with her? No, back to the subject. Stop getting distracted, Gail.

"Shut up. Okay, look, this thing we have…" God, I sound like some desperate needy woman, like in those dumb sitcoms that Dov sometimes puts on the TV.

"Yeah?"

"You're really gonna make me say the whole thing?" She's torturing me on purpose, I swear.

"Well, I'm not a mind reader, Gail. You're gonna have to finish your sentence if you want me to know what you're talking about," she explains patiently.

I almost snort in response. Not a mind reader? There have been so many times in the past couple weeks I would have bet all the money in my bank that she was a mind reader. I slap the couch in half frustration.

Holly turns to me and I think she realizes that I'm really struggling to get my words out.

"Gail. It's okay. I'm patient." I'm not sure if she's referring to me finishing my sentence or about my ability, or rather, my inability to have a relationship right now. Maybe she's talking about both.

"Look," I look down at the couch and start off slowly, trying to organize the words in my half-drunken mind. "I like the way you make me feel. I like the way you talk. I like how you teach me things. I like how you listen to me. I like how you joke with me. And I don't know what this is. And if there's a term for our relationship…and…yeah." I finish half-heartedly and look up.

She's grinning. Seriously? She's grinning right now while I feel like I've just emotionally vomited on her?

"Why are you grinning?" I almost want to run out the door in embarrassment. Except I don't think I can run or move right now. This couch and tea are way too soothing.

"Gail, I know all those things already."

I knew it. I knew she was a mind reader.

"You lied," I accused her. "you're a total mind reader."

She takes another sip from her mug and shrugs. "Nope, I'm not reading your mind. I'm just reading your actions."

"It's not fair," I proclaim. "How come you know everything?"

She grins and shrugs again. "Maybe because I'm a doctor? We hold a lot of information in our brains you know." She taps her head.

"But aren't you supposed to say something about me too?" God, why do I keep pushing? I hate it when people push at me, but here I am pushing at Holly. It's the alcohol, it's got to be the alcohol.

Holly sighs and finally turns to me. "I do want to say something about you too. I just…I wasn't sure if you can do this." For the first time tonight, I sense a hint of doubt and uncertainty in her voice.

"I just needed to hear you say it first," she continues. "I don't want to give you a reason to run, Gail. I really don't want you to run away from me." She seems like she wants to say even more, but she stops there.

"I won't," I promise. And I immediately realize that I've just made a half drunken promise that I'm not sure I can keep. "I mean…I'll try. I'll really try."

"Okay." Holly reaches for my hand. "I think I can live with that."

I smile like the drunken idiot I feel like right now. The moment her hand touches mine, my other drunken revelations disappeared in my brain's abyss, and all I can think about is the warmth radiating from her hand.

"So what exactly do you mean you have an obsession with me?"

A/N: So I guess I went from not sure if I wanted to just do a one shot to committing to a full-fledged multi-chapter story. I swear I didn't have these chapters planned when I first started. Thanks for joining along the ride. I guess this is to be continued! Any reviews are always greatly appreciated.