Chapter 3

Author's note: Thank you for all of the reviews. Strap on your helmets, kids. We're gonna get twisty in this and the next couple chapters.

She allows herself a few more moments- a few more moments of breathing the pathologist's air, tangling their tongues together, letting her hand drift up underneath the thick wool of her sweater, and lets herself get absolutely lost in the somewhat messy cant of the brunette's hips against her own. She pushes the older woman away as gently as she can and shudders unpleasantly when their lips part.

She backs away, swallowing hard and cursing her stupidity, her absolute carelessness with the woman. She shouldn't know, she couldn't know. It puts her in danger, more importantly puts Holly in danger, and compromises everything she is currently trying to work for. She can't let feelings get involved. The old part of her, the before, it aches. It screams at her, claws at her eyes and burns her heart, makes it leap into the hollow of her throat and makes it hard to breathe with how much, how much it wants to give in and surrender to comfort, the absolute warmth of the other woman. But the new- the after- it's all different. It's all changed. She can't have a normal life. She can't give the woman what she deserves. Holly's friends were right- now, painfully, more than ever.

Holly deserves better.

Better than a freak of the night masquerading as a hero. Better than an anomaly, a question of science. A mutant.

She grabs the perp, hoists him upon her shoulder with little effort. Turns and looks at the brunette, hard. Her eyes pleading, soft, and ultimately so regretful.

"Please," she says, "You can't-no one can know. I- please, Hol."

A beat. A breath.

"Gail," a broken voice says, "Wait. You can't just show up and fucking leap into action and save my life and- kiss me- and then, Jesus, Gail. You're a goddamn... superhero or something. Can you... did you fly down here? I could have sworn-"

"Goddammit, Hol! Just- leave it, alright? It's better if you don't-"

But all of a sudden Holly is so close again and her hand is once more on the blonde's face and Gail tries so hard not to let her eyes drift close but the sensation is still so- and she can't-

The shuddering sigh leaves her lips then, a single tear sliding down her nose and she tips her head forehead to meet the brunette's. A sudden dull thud as the criminal is dropped unceremoniously behind her and then she's wrapped in Holly's arms, shaking, her head tucked into the side of the pathologist's neck. Allows herself a few moments once more, moves her lips to Holly's ear, speaks as earnestly as she can.

"I wish- I wish things were different. I wish this wasn't- I wish a lot of things, Hol. And I want to explain, I do- but there's so, so much. I just. I need time. I need time and I need to think- and I'm not sure how long any of it is going to take and I can't-"

A chaste kiss, lip to lip. So brief and simple, sweet.

A sigh.

"I'm not going anywhere."

She nods her head, her blonde hair rustling in the winter wind. Takes the scarf back, allows the other woman to tuck it around her face and ears, draws the hood back over her head. A brief glance back, a silent understanding.

She grabs the perp, jumps, and is gone.

Holly watches her burst into the sky, breathless, staring into its murky depths for long moments after, willing the blonde to return. She knows she won't.

She waits anyway.

The next few days are hell for the brunette. On Thursday, it gets ever worse.

One moment she's looking into the familiar lens of her microscope and the next, she's looking into the cold face of Steven Peck. A brief moment of silence as they stare each other down for a moment. She swallows, tries to smile and hopes it comes out less painful than it feels.

He's all business. A curt nods and questions. It's all routine, all blood samples and cold cases and then-

"And Dr. Stewart? There's something else I was kind of oping you could help me out with. Off the record."

An eyebrow raises, a bemused glace.

"As you've probably heard, we have a bit of a vigilante on our hands. Every night for the past couple of months, perps have ended up dumped on the front steps of the police station, written confession in hand. And it's the damnedest thing- they all talk about..."

Holly's blood runs cold, her throat dry. Listens as he talks of speculation, reports of a masked woman with undeniable strength able to take bullets with barely a flinch. He lays down a piece of paper in front of her.

"So, will you run it through the system? Check it for prints of pull off some other neat pathologist trick? I just- I've got a feeling about this guy. Doesn't sit tight with me."

Holly gulps.

"Detective Peck- I'm really so, so busy- and I- from all of I've heard, this guy, he's doing right by you guys, right? Helping you clean up the streets? Why mess with a good thing, right?"

He stares at her. Hard. Holly squirms in her seat.

"Whoever it is- they're breaking the law. They can't just go around-"

"Saving lives? Putting murderers and drug dealers and other scum behind bars? Terrible."

She watches the man narrow his eyes, bites his lip.

"Just- check the paper, alright? See if there are prints or DNA or anything. Just see if it's in the system? Please?"

Hesitation. Gail's face runs through her head. She panics.

"I won't do it. I won't- I help capture someone who is- who is-"

"You feel strongly about this- this maniac, then? So much so you're willing to lose your job over it?"

Something sparks in the pathologist then and suddenly her chest is hot, her mind fuzzy with anger.

"Off the record, Detective. Isn't that what you just said? I hardly think-"

And suddenly his eyes are like steel and he's gritting his teeth and he stares deep into her and she thinks that maybe the man can see into the very depths of her soul, like he can read her like a book.

"Do you know something?"

Her head is shaking almost immediately. Her eyes wide. She's not a good liar. Knows it.

"If you know something- Dr. Stewart... "

She looks away, is pulled back by a loud yell.

"Holly!"

"I don't," she suddenly bursts, "Look, I'll look at your paper but I'm not making any promises and for the record, I think- I think that whoever they are, the person who's doing all of this- I think they're a fucking hero! Alright?"

A Beat. Another narrow of the eyes. A grim nod. A brief thanks. And then he's gone. His feet are barely out the door before her fingers are typing the message into her phone. Panic sets in and she leans her head down on her forearms and waits.

Thankfully she doesn't have to for long.

The blonde appears before her in an instant and stands expectantly in front on the pathologist whose lungs heave a great sigh in relief. A pause and then nothing but the scrape of the stool as Holly springs from it, catching the blonde in a tight embrace. A moment, a sound of exasperation from the Gail's lips, a murmur and then complete and total surrender. Her arms come up to cradle Holly in return, her brow suddenly furrowed in concern.

She does her best to block out the rambling thoughts of the brunette, it feels invasive somehow. All she knows is that she heard Holly's voice screaming out for her from miles away, causing her to spring up and rush to the lab before the chime of her cellphone even began to sound.

The explanation comes out in a rush- testing, her brother, wanting to know the identity of the vigilante. His pursuit of her. Gail lets out a steady breath, runs her fingers through her hair, distances her body. Tells her that she'll figure it out. To delay it as much as possible. Holly agrees, sits back down, suddenly uncomfortable.

Gail opens her mouth to speak- shuffles a little bit closer, her eyes almost pleading. A breath, both pairs locked and then- the shrill ring of the phone and a curse underneath her breath. Traci- a case. She's got to go. A somber nod, soft watery eyes.

And Gail can't help herself, she really can't, and suddenly she's striding over to the brunette and cupping her face with both of her hands and sliding the pads of her fingers along smooth, olive colored cheeks and she's lost in the sensation.

"Thank you, for telling me. And for- for looking out for me. No one really ever has."

The words so soft and restrained. The wanting thinly veiled but veiled still.

"I- I told you I wouldn't. So-" A gulp as Holly closes her eyes, the sensation of Gail's thumb swiping unconsciously over her full bottom lip almost too much to bear.

They stand like that there for long moment, too wrapped up in each other to speak. A heavy silence, another shrill ring of the phone.

"I've got to go."

And suddenly Holly's arms are empty and cold, her lips still burning along the lines Gail had drawn with her fingertips.

Gail keeps with her routine, keeps vigil and tries her best to keep the city safe. Robbers and rapists and murderers have nothing on her. She simply can't be matched. That's what she tells herself, that's what she believes.

But nothing is ever really as it seems. And she should have known better than to be as arrogant as she was for as long as she was.

Everything changes in April, a full five months since her brush with death. She's on desk duty for no particular reason other than she was the one who's been assigned the task for the day when she hears his voice, her back going ramrod straight, the blood in her veins turning icy, her throat sticking with contempt.

She'd know his face, his voice anywhere. Saw it in the bright burst of gun powder and lead as he fired down upon her.

His sneering face was the last one she thought she'd ever see.

She draws her gun immediately, lips in a snarl, telling him to freeze, to drop to the ground.

She's met with a twisted smile, a raised eyebrow.

His hand juts out faster than she can even process, crushing her windpipe in one devastating motion. She wheezes out a breath and sucks in a gulp of air before his fist is bearing down upon her, clutched around her slender throat. She feels her feet lifted off the ground, feels her eyes opening and bulging with the strain. Feels the edges of her vision darken. Only sees the ghastly, empty eyes of the maniac bearing down upon her, waiting to see the light go out in her own.

Screaming, gunshots.

Gleeful, maniacal laughing.

Jesus Christ, she thinks, this is how it all ends.

Please let me know what you think. Already halfway through number four so it should be posted sometime later this weekend or at the beginning of the week.

Thanks!