Author's Note: If any of this chapter seems awkward, it is supposed to. Because, let's be honest, what about this scenario wouldn't be awkward?


Chapter Two

Someone once told me that nothing ever winds up as bad as you concoct it in your mind, that fear likes to contrive the worst case scenario in our heads but it almost never plays out that way. It makes sense and had, actually, gotten me beyond paralyzing nerves in many situations. But the text message that I only realize I have when I approach the restaurant – and a guilty looking blonde - leaves me wanting to call bullshit on that notion.

It had been tough, but after much deliberation on the fifteen minute stroll over here, I'd found the silver lining in my kind gesture - in the form of the possibility of getting laid. You can't fall in love in one night, and bringing a relative stranger to orgasm just might ease the shrill sound of midnight marking this apparently wondrous, twenty-fifth day. Tacky? Probably. But my currently preoccupied conscience is okay with that.

Well, it was… until I read the message, looked up to meet the adorably apologetic eyes of my blonde friend, and lost that silver lining somewhere in the fact that Stacey – Stacey, apparently male and not female, Stacey – has a penis.

"I'm sorry." She grimaces. "I didn't know until Will called and said something to the effect of, Stacey is looking forward to it. He has a thing for brunettes."

I haven't said one word, but I know she's reading every intricacy in my stare – I want her to. She owes me big time for this.

"I understand if you want to leave."

I consider it, I really do. I should be grateful that the possibility of gaining any kind of affection only to have it stomped on was erased right along with Stacey's femininity but… really? I'm certain some deity is currently having a good laugh at my expense. How did I ever manage to wind up on a date with a guy while, directly in my presence, the woman who somehow managed to worm her way into my fortress of a heart offers up her own heart to some Southern detective? Perhaps those deities have a point. It is kind of, tragically, funny. Kind of.

The inside of my lip takes a beating as I fix my eyes on the sidewalk and consider my options: I can leave right now, ruin JJ's night, and probably never have her say a bad word about it – perhaps this is the catalyst strong enough to get me out of this train wreck of a situation. Or…

I look back to her. Her and her cold-flushed cheeks; her and her cobalt eyes that seem to glow brighter with the kohl lining them; her and her knee-length cerulean dress that's only partially visible beneath the ivory, tailored coat that she's pulling tight around her form; her and her waves of pure silken gold that fall loosely around her shoulders. Just her… She's a winter wonderland personified, and she's breathtaking, and any of my options reduce quickly to one: I'm staying.

"You owe me." I tell her as I turn and walk towards the entrance.

"I do." She grabs my arm and stops me, repeats the words- "I really do." –and pulls me into her arms.

It's unexpected; the scent of her perfume oddly incapacitating. It leaves me dizzy, and I know even in that moment that that one fragrance is going to haunt me for the rest of my life. More than that is the way that three, four, five seconds pass and she still hasn't stepped away. With any other person, I'd find the lingering physical contact uncomfortable; with her, I find it unbearable. Patting one hand against her back, I straighten up and extract myself from her.

"You don't want to keep him waiting." I smile, pulling open the door for her, and I hope she knows it's genuine.

I hate this night before it's even truly begun, but I love her happiness even if it could be premature. God knows we all need reason to smile genuinely after some of the things we see day to day… but she deserves it more. She sees more than most of us; she handles more than we could ever conceive of; she makes decisions not a single one of us could ever make. And she keeps it all and any evidence that it ever occurred in that chaotic little office of hers.

Now I understand why it is so chaotic in there. If I was dealing with the things she does in that room, I wouldn't have time to clean either. If it was my only point of solace and escape throughout the day, I wouldn't waste it organizing anything but my mind either.

"JJ…" The guy – Will – is standing by the bar as we enter, and he wastes no time rushing towards JJ. "I'm so glad you came. You look… incredible."

It had seemed that he was going to hug her, but apparently his nerves changed that plan and he settles instead for brushing his hand affectionately over her arm. His eyes linger on her, twinkling like this Christmas is the one in which all of his dreams finally come true, and for a brief moment, I see a spark of something I abandoned a long time ago: the magic of love and Christmas because, truly, what better gift could you receive? Or, in JJ's world at least. By the way she's looking at him, I'm certain something incredible is occurring for her too – I only hope my mere presence doesn't cause my curse to rub off on her.

He definitely seems like the perfect gentleman, but it's difficult to fully appreciate that when I'm stuck in this uncomfortable moment where I have no clue who my apparent suitor is. I shift awkwardly on my feet, chewing the inside of my lip for the third time since this date was mentioned – I'm not much enjoying the frequency at which my confident-happy exterior is deteriorating. This is not my comfort zone…

"And, of course, you're Emily."

…but this, in some form, is my comfort zone. Years of practice with politicians and mother's bureaucratic friends ensure the smile that forms on my face is both believable and charming, and that my handshake is solid. "And you're Will. It's so wonderful to see you again."

JJ shoots me a curious look but I choose to ignore it.

"You too." Will grins before looking to his left. "And this is Stacey. He's a child psychiatrist."

Impressive. How many straight women would drool over this date? I politely hold out my hand and greet the guy who, even from my totally-gay standpoint, is beautiful. He's tan and muscular, but not overly so, and his short hairstyle and goatee, along with the littering of tattoos I can see strategically concealed beneath his white shirt, briefly leave me wondering how many clients he loses from his appearance. People like to stereotype. Maybe I'm stereotyping right now…

I am. Okay, now I understand JJ's peculiar look. I'm not being the 'me' she knows. I don't think I'm even being the 'me' I know. Apparently I lost her somewhere between that little café and this restaurant. I'm so goddam nervous and have no clue why… It's not like I've never dated before - even if this particular date is nothing more than a show. But I can do shows, I decide. I grew up playing a part in one. I got this.

"LaMontagne. Party of four."

A smiling blonde calls us and we're seated along the far back wall of the restaurant, a few tables over from the kitchen. There's something subtly embarrassed in Will's eyes as we take our seats, and it takes me a moment to realize why that is.

What kind of a woman does he think JJ is? She isn't from my world – he needn't worry about pretentious expectations. Actually, JJ likely would have been more comfortable eating wings in a bar than dining here. She's not a fine china and caviar kind of girl: she's a beer-instead-of-wine, cereal-out-of-the-box, makes-a-mess-with-her-pizza kind of girl. But I can tell she likes this guy, and I make it my mission to ease the awkward atmosphere that seems to have descended.

"This is the best seat in the house." I grin. "It's impossible to people-watch stealthily when you're in the midst of them."

"Table by the pillar…" Stacey leans in with a whisper. "Totally wearing a toupee."

Will and JJ look over with me, and we giggle in unison. Well that effectively broke the ice – or, rather, obliterated it. For the next hour, the conversation flows freely. We eat great food and chat about our respective jobs and share anecdotes about mutual acquaintances, and truthfully, for a moment, I forget just why it is that I'm here – and just why it is that I shouldn't be here.

It's only when dessert arrives, and the guy beside me offers me a bite of his raspberry cheesecake - which I take enthusiastically in accordance with the rules of putting on a show – that I'm reminded that Will and Stacey aren't the only spectators to said show. Unreadable blue eyes look away as I wipe my mouth with a napkin, and I purposely take a slow sip of my wine in an attempt to gain a mere second of thinking-time in a moment where I have no privacy.

That expression she tossed my way just an hour ago was only the beginning – they've come in abundance since. I know she's seeing a side of me that she doesn't recognize, and somewhere in amongst trying to be the model – straight – date, my over-thinking mind takes it upon itself to use any lull in the conversation from that moment as a point of deliberation. Do I have reason to be concerned that she's seen a side of me I typically never show? A side of me that isn't actually me at all? Just how is she going to use that against me at a later date?

More importantly, why am I just now questioning her integrity in this way? JJ isn't the type to use anything against anyone, and yet right in this moment, I feel thoroughly exposed in a way my seemingly infamous defensive skills are powerless against.

It's almost thirty minutes more before my eyes dare to meet hers again, and somewhere in her smile that is not at all directed at me, I find just why it is that I'm trapped in this paranoid, fraudulent, nervous, conflicted place…

…because it's for her. I'm here, because it was her who requested it and not another member of the team. I'm nervous like my presence amounts to more than a safety net should anything with Prince Charming go awry. I'm paranoid like my behavior matters more than what the guy beside me thinks. I'm fraudulent like those justifications I clouded my vision with that I was simply helping out a friend – a friend who I am totally okay with just being a friend to – have abandoned me. I'm conflicted like, despite all of my over-thinking, I didn't truly consider the possibility that playing a role this time would actually be the very catalyst strong enough to bring about that which I hide behind my strategically-placed masks.

I'm nervous like I have absolutely no right to be. I'm nervous like I'm on a date with her, and only her.

"Uh-oh, five o'clock." Stacey utters, an expression somewhere between arrogance and revulsion curling at his lips.

It takes me a second – still fighting my way out of the debris and chaos that adorns the far back crevices of my mind – to remember just what angle would count as 'five o'clock', but I needn't have made the effort. This night is about to take a further unexpected turn.

"They're very brave, is all I can say." He continues. "If I were gay, I'm not sure I'd have the audacity."

I suddenly remember what angle 'five o'clock' is, and crane my neck to find two women, both probably mid-thirties, enjoying an intimate dinner - apparently too intimate for the guy beside me. There's only a little space between them as they chat, and the taller woman - the brunette - is idly running her thumb along the redhead's open palm. Honestly, I've done worse in public, but I doubt he needs to know that.

"Stacey."

The not-so hidden scold in that one word prompts me to turn back to find Will shooting Stacey a glare that I don't at all condemn him for, but what concerns me more is the expression on JJ's face. It's complex: it isn't angry, it isn't nonchalant; it isn't boldly against, or openly supportive of his blatantly homophobic statement. It's equal parts ambiguous and thunderous. It's, somehow, unnerving.

She's chewing at her lip much like I have more times than I can count lately, and all I want to do is brush my thumb along it to soothe it, soothe her. Her lips take the brunt of any over-thinking that occurs within her colorful mind, I know that much, but it's hard to say what she's struggling with. I try to read her eyes but they're fixed on the table - purposely, no doubt.

"Can I take this for you, ma'am?"

But the very short, very subtle glance cast my way, right before she leans back and smiles appreciatively to the waiter who takes her plate, leaves no ambiguity; leaves, actually, similar apology to what had been present in bright blue just ninety minutes ago. Her issue is me. I hadn't even considered that irony in all of this: here I am, because of her, accidentally on a date with a guy who doesn't even realize that I'm gay, listening to him announce that two women expressing their affection in public is 'brave'. I'd want to apologize to me too if I were her…

I just wish I had a way to tell her that she doesn't need to. I just wish I had a way to take this joke beside me out of the equation, and allow her to enjoy a real date with the guy beside her who, honestly, I think I'm even a little in love with despite my seasonal rule. I could picture him being the guy to hold her on those days when her whole world is crumbling, and to let her be free when her typically independent nature returns. I wish I could tell her that.

"Ladies room?" The smile on my face is intended to ease the unwarranted guilt in her eyes, but I think I made it worse.

"Sure." She nods, pushing herself up before tossing a smile – the one she uses for the media, I know – to the guys. "Excuse us."

We walk silently to the bathroom, but I notice the increase in the hast of her step as the restroom sign comes into sight, and once we're behind the closed door, she does just as I expect her to and jumps right into apology mode.

"Emily, I'm a crappy friend. I am so sorry for putting you in this position." She's leant against the sink, her thumbs scratching furiously at her middle fingers. She thinks I can't see that, considering they're simultaneously gripping the lip of the counter, but I can. "This was such a selfish thing to ask of you, and now you're stuck with that knucklehead beside you who-"

"Jayje, stop." I chuckle at her frantic tirade and walk over to her, reach instantly for her hands to ease the assault that her thumbs are inflicting there. "You're not to blame for him. No one is to blame for him. If that's who he is, if that's what he believes, then that's fine. Honestly. I don't care, and neither should you."

"But why don't you care?"

"Why should I?" There's an amused tone to my voice that I hope she knows is more fondness directed at her incessant, endearing need to worry about everyone around her, and not at her expense. "He's a knucklehead, remember?" My amusement turns to a reassuring smile. "JJ, he doesn't affect my life at all. I'm content with who I am. And even if his opinion did matter, it would not be enough to steer me away from the beautiful creatures that us women-folk are."

She's looking at me curiously again, and this time, for some reason, it shakes me enough to look away. She's asking me a question, I know that much now… but I don't think I want to know just what that question is.

"Anyway." I clear my throat, smile a smile I know she's expecting. "Will seems pretty much perfect, and that is why I'm going to do what I'm about to."

"What… do you mean?"

I shrug. "I'm going to leave with Stacey." I see the protest before she even opens her mouth and I can't help but laugh again – where does she fit in the simple task of breathing with all the worrying she does? "I don't plan to sleep with him. I want to see you happy, Jayje, but I have to draw the line somewhere. No, I'm going to take him to the bar across the street. We're going to have one drink, and I think I'm going to clue him in on my predicament. I considered going for the cliché 'emergency call' route, but I'm too classy for that." I wink and squeeze her hands reassuringly. "So I'm being proactive. Should you and Will wind up married and making babies, I don't want his best friend to hold any kind of grudge against me at the wedding for sneakily ditching him and blemishing his ego."

She laughs, because of me, and it makes me feel weightless. It shouldn't make me feel weightless. It shouldn't really make me feel a whole lot else other than platonic warmth. But I know there's a lot of shouldn'ts in this moment – one being the fact that I'm not only still holding her hands, but have laced my fingers with hers and am currently running my thumbs over her knuckles. But friends do that, right?

Blue eyes drop between us, to our entwined hands, before cautiously meeting my gaze again. She opens her mouth slowly, and her lips remains parted, as if she's going to say something… and I realize that's probably my cue to step away. I know I'm, in that hasty gesture, doing nothing more than expressing my guilty conscience. If it had been Garcia – Garcia who I've never thought of in a more than platonic way – I would have held her hands all night and not even questioned it. But this isn't Garcia…

This is JJ. This is JJ, and I never should have agreed to this. I became very aware of that fact fifteen minutes ago, when I located just why it was that my forty-two year old mind had dilapidated into that of a drunken teenage girl, and I'm more than aware of it now. I have no business being here. I am the last person she should have asked and she doesn't even realize it. I feel like a fraud.

"Come on." I hold the door open for her, encourage her with a smile and a flick of my head- "They'll be getting paranoid that we abandoned them." -and we head back to the table.

Upon our return, it becomes clear just how long we've been gone, when I recognize the bill has been paid and both guys are now nursing empty glasses–

"There's a bar across the street. Stacey and I hoped you'd both like to join us for a nightcap."

-and apparently killing my plan to give JJ and Will quiet time. Doesn't he realize I'm on his side?

"Actually…" JJ grabs her coat, taking us all by surprise, and I can't help but stare at her with the same curiosity she's been tossing my way all night. The fact she grabbed her coat is about as subtle as the hint in her next words. "Do you think we could talk for a moment, Will?"

I witness the very instant that Will's smile drops slightly, those erased nuances of contentment now replaced with a hint of concern and a sense of heartbreak that is likely not unwarranted. What is she doing?

"Um," He nods, his smile returning like he's attempting to convince himself he's already over whatever is coming. "Of course, chère."

I can't hear what they're saying as they stroll towards the bar and turn away from us, but their body language says it all. I don't need to hear the words to recognize the slump in his shoulders that I've donned plenty of times throughout my years on this planet: she's letting him down, and trying to do so gently because JJ wouldn't do anything but. This is strangely heartbreaking to watch, mostly because I'm certain she was into him too. What did I miss between the bathroom and this very moment?

And when she nods and hugs him, that feeling of utter confusion only magnifies. It's just a hug, and yet I find myself lost to the intricacies in it. The sleeves of her coat pulled over her hands, the cuffs gripped into her palm by her fingertips as she wraps her arms around him. It's subtle but it places distance, and yet the embrace itself lingers, which tells me she truly did enjoy his company this evening. Now I'm totally lost.

"Well it's not tough to guess what's happening over there." Stacey interrupts my musings, and when I turn to face him, the glimmer in his eyes tells me I'm about to have to make the same speech JJ apparently just did. I'll thank her for that later.

Will and I cross paths as I head towards JJ, and the brief hug I offer him is a lot less obligatory and awkward than the one I just gave the guy behind me. I'm certain there's something unintentionally pitying in my eyes as I pull back, but that erases entirely and reforms instead as something indecipherable when he whispers-

"People like her are rare. Make sure you take good care of her."

-and then disappears back to the table. I falter for a second, before uttering a feeble and somewhat involuntary promise to his back, and continue on to JJ who is stood by the bar looking like she just kicked a puppy. I barely need to slow my momentum when I reach her, the look in her eyes telling me she just wants out of this place.

Out on the street a minute or two later, her heels against the sidewalk is the only sound I can really hear. I find myself forgoing any of the familiar street sounds and latching instead onto that while I both use and question my profiling skills to decipher her move just now. It doesn't make any sense.

"JJ…" I catch her elbow and stop her. "Why did you do that?"

"Because." She shrugs and pulls her coat tighter around her, an uneasy expression playing in her eyes. "I just wasn't feeling it. I wanna get drunk."

Woah… That's not what I expected or wanted to hear. "Why?"

"Because you're my friend, and we have two days off from a job that we are typically married to, and I want to lose my inhibitions with someone I trust and who understands how precious this free time is."

My eyes narrow. I know I'm not supposed to profile her, but I can't help it, and she doesn't help matters either by bravely holding my gaze, almost like she's willing me to do such a thing. There are so many contradictory shades of emotion in her eyes, so many more in the words she just spoke. And my heart sinks when I realize she, somewhere along the way, became me. She was into him, is into him - that's the point. Sometimes having feelings for a person is the very reason you walk away.

"How drunk?" I pose. If she's as stubborn as me while she's busy taking other leaves out of my book, badgering her to call him or go back to him isn't going to get me anywhere.

"I dunno." She grins, loops out her arm for me to link mine through and tugs us across the street through the slowly chugging traffic, before tossing a wink my way as we approach the bar. "I guess we'll see."