(second installment. Beware: drama ensues. This probably won't be a terribly long fic, less than ten chapters before I can complete what I wanted to get across. Please comment, positive or negative, and let me know how it's going. I've written a lot of Brett and Kidd but never Foster until now. I need to know if I'm getting her voice across well. Thanks for reads and reviews. I aim to please. )

It was NOT the day for down time, Brett decided as she sat alone in the common room, watching a hockey game that she didn't care about. She might have liked the Blackhawks by default, from growing up in Indiana, but her heart certainly wasn't in it. She stared at the screen dimly as the players flowed across the ice. Under normal circumstances she would be following the game pretty closely (but not as closely as ninety-nine percent of her housemates, who were currently in the truck bay competing over something.)

Sylvie was not generally the type to hope for a call. She never wanted anyone to be in danger but she couldn't help but love the adrenaline that a save created within her. She was wishing for a call right now, unable to shake her mind from the fog that Kidd had caused and hoping for any distraction.

"Damn you, Kidd," Brett said quietly, not realizing that it had been aloud and rolling her eyes at her own over-analysis.

"Geez…." Stella chuckled, approaching without Brett noticing just in time to hear her childish whine. "What'd I do?" she asked, plopping onto the couch next to her friend casually, completely unaware of Brett's inner turmoil.

"Nothing," Brett said firmly, shaking her head and turning her eyes back to the game.

"You don't usually just damn people for fun," Stella joked, having not thought about their prior conversation since it had occurred and not linking Brett's mood to it.

"I just hate you sometimes," Sylvie told her with no bite, more distress behind it than anything.

It hit Stella. Not one part of her thought that Brett could still be upset about their conversation this morning. There was no reason for Brett to be upset about it, unless…

"Still mad about what I asked you?" Stella asked calmly. "You know I didn't mean anything by it, Brett. I was only askin' because I care," she told her seriously, finally causing Brett's eyes to reach her own.

"I know," Brett admitted. "I just don't know where you'd get that idea, like, at all," she breathed out, frustrated more with herself than anything else.

"Ya know, I see things. I feel things too. I thought my best friend was keeping a secret from me. I just wanted you to know that you didn't have to," Stella explained, trying to work a little harder on her wording, this time.

"But I wasn't keeping a secret," Brett pleaded, only a quarter of a lie. (No, she and Foster were not 'hooking up' or anything near that, but she maybe, accidentally, had thought about it a time or two in the past few months.)

"I get that now. I'm sorry I pushed. I guess I just saw something that wasn't there?" Stella said as though it was a question, hoping it would lead Sylvie to communicate more.

"I guess so," Brett practically grumbled, staring back at the hockey game, expressionless.

"You ladies are missing all the fun out there!" Foster exclaimed, busting through the door from the truck bay energetically. "Otis had Cruz in a head lock for forty-four whole seconds before Joe almost ripped his arm off," she chuckled, rounding the back of the couch, leaning her arms on it. "And where have you been all day, pretty girl?" she asked Brett with a smile, ruffling the blonde's hair.

Foster didn't have a good view of Brett's face from behind and it was a good damn thing. Kidd turned to Brett just in time to see the bright blush colouring her cheeks. Brett chuckled, covering a gulp and looked back toward Foster.

"Just watching the Blackhawks game," Brett shrugged casually, acting like the feeling of Foster's hand wasn't burning a hole in her scalp.

"Oh, cool. Who're they playing?" Foster asked, hopping over the back of the couch and sitting next to Brett nonchalantly.

Dammit. Brett had no idea who they were playing. Well, she had at one point but completely forgot in her state of thought. The crickets began to get awkward. Stella, sensing Brett's fumble, stepped in in classic best friend fashion.

"You goin' to Molly's with us tonight, Foster? We got a DJ…" Stella sang happily, watching as Brett stared off into space, embarrassed and scared into silence.

"Nah, I got a date with the new Fed Ex chick. I think I'm just gonna take her to a pizza joint or something, though. I'm not really feeling it," Foster shrugged, relaxing her head on the back of the couch.

Brett's emotions as she replayed Foster's words in her head built and built until she felt like she was going to explode. And then she did.

"Seriously?!" Brett practically yelled, sitting up and turning to face Foster in an instant. "What the hell is wrong with you? You go out with different people almost every other night and now you're going out with a girl you don't even like?! You're not damaged enough to act like this, Foster. Or are you?"

Brett stood, adrenaline rushing through her, and stomped out of the common room, through the truck bay and away. The boys looked at her with concern as she stormed past them but were too caught up in their game to stop her.

Stella and Foster remained on the couch, a Sylvie Brett sized space between them, wide-eyed and speechless. They weren't looking at each other, seemingly afraid to, silent for so long that it got weird. Stella felt like she should say something, make up some excuse for her best friend's behaviour, but she had nothing. There was absolutely no rationality to Brett going off and she couldn't defend her right now.

Foster was in shock. To say that Brett's outburst was out of character was definitely an understatement. She had seen her partner go off on people before, when it was relevant. But this…

"What was that?" Foster asked nearly inaudibly, blinking hard and looking at Stella out of the corner of her eye.

"I have no idea," Stella said, even though she did maybe have an idea.

"I didn't know she felt that way about me. She's never said anything about me dating people before. I thought…" Foster sighed, slamming her eyes shut and looking near tears. "I thought she was my friend," she concluded sadly. "I thought…"

"She IS your friend, Foster. I swear. I know she really cares about you. Maybe she's just worried?" Stella offered weakly, feeling the build up of guilt in her chest.

"Worried about what? She's never acted like that before, even subtly. Did I do something to upset her?" Foster asked, weak and defeated.

"No…" Stella began, already regretting it. "I think this might be my fault," she admitted, looking to her lap.

"Why would it be your fault?" Foster laughed dryly.

"Well, um," cough, "I, well I thought that the two of you were hookin' up, and I may have asked her about it this morning…" Stella squinted hard as she awaited a reaction.

"You thought Brett and I were hooking up?" It came out of Foster's mouth so softly that Stella almost missed it.

Stella nodded and rolled her eyes.

"I mean, I guess that's stupid," she laughed off. "It just kinda seemed like you've been spending a lot of time together. And you haven't really been goin' out with anyone else lately," Stella defended her assumption, scratching her face nervously.

"So Sylvie got pissed at me for going on a date when she was actually mad at you for assuming we were together?" Foster asked, disbelieving. "How's that work?"

"I don't know. I think maybe she's been thinkin' too hard about it, since I brought it up," Stella's voice remained flat though her heart certainly was not.

"She was probably disgusted that you thought that," Foster said directly, distress evident.

"No!" Stella swore, putting her hands up. "No, not at all!"

For a moment Stella was disappointed that Foster could think that about her best friend: Brett was not judgmental in any way, but after the way she had just acted it could be easy to be confused.

"Brett wasn't upset like that, at all," Stella continued, suddenly wondering how far away Sylvie had run. "She just, overanalyses everything, you know?" she tried to keep her words vague.

"So now she's worried that I want to be with her?!" Foster asked loudly, unable to keep herself from feeling like this was a personal attack.

"No!" Stella exclaimed, not realizing the words that were about to automatically fly out of her mouth. "I think she's worried that she wants to be with you!"

Foster's eyes went wider than they ever had, her mouth dropping open. She had known that she had trouble reading people sometimes. Now she realised that she was a complete idiot.

Stella closed her eyes and wished to disappear. She had not meant to divulge that information. She didn't even know with certainty that it was true. This whole day and possibly a really great work partnership had gone to shit and it was entirely her fault.

(Okay, it was a little bit Sylvie's fault too, for going the hell off, but Stella only felt her own guilt right now.)

There was no way to recover this situation now.