I do not own "Warrior." It belongs to director Gavin O'Connor. Having never been to the Pittsburgh Zoo myself, I may have taken a few liberties. For instance, I don't know if the gorillas are in an exhibit behind glass, but I did some research to try to keep it a little realistic. On another note, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed and somewhat pissed off that "Warrior" was ignored for the Golden Globes.

Chapter Six: First Date

In rehab Jane had heard certain things stressed to her, and at meetings heard those things reinforced. Among them had been "no major life changes for a year." And even with only a year of sobriety "major changes" shouldn't be much more major than getting a new sofa or changing brands of toilet paper. And dating? Best left out of the picture for at least two, preferably three years. To ignore this and start dating after only one year was discouraged.

Jane figured none of this would be any problem. She didn't have the money for a better apartment, or at least an apartment in a better part of town. She hated her job but wasn't interested in quitting when it paid a pretty good amount for someone who didn't yet have a college degree. Her experiences with the opposite sex on any physical level had been, at best, unpleasant, leaving a bad taste in her mouth (pun partially intended) and blurred, painful, drunken memories she wished she had never created, assuming she was able to remember. She didn't picture herself going down that route for a quite a while yet. Or at least, that's what she thought until Wednesday afternoon.

F

Lester and Bob love the diner in the afternoons, when the sun hits the windows right and they feel like they're teenagers again, ready to cruise the boulevard that never existed in a car they would never have been able to afford at that age, talking over coffee, burgers and a shared slice of pie (who gives a damn what the doctor says about cholesterol anymore? When you're in your seventies you enjoy your perks where you get 'em) and there is something nostalgic about the waitress who does her best to ignore the lingering glances at her tits.

She comes around with a coffee pot, smiling and asking if either of them would like a refill when a big guy with dark shadows under his eyes comes into her section.

"Jane," he says, and she nearly drops the pot, eyes widening to comical proportions as she turns around with a gasp in her throat.

"I….hi," is all she manages to get out. Bob tilts his head to get a better look at the guy. Big shoulders on him, looks like he hasn't shaved or slept in a couple of days, and tense as hell.

"Do you think you have time on Saturday to finally see the Pittsburgh Zoo?"

"You don't…" her voice catches. "You don't owe me anything."

"No, I don't," the man says, taking a step forward. "You don't owe me anything, either. I'm asking 'cause I want to take you out. So do you?"

She places her hand back on the table. It looks like she's gripping the edge to make sure she's not dreaming. She nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I can make time."

The man nods back. "Great." He stops, turns back. "What time?"

"Ten?" she suggests.

"Outside your place?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"Good." She's starting to look downright adorable. Or pitiful. Neither of them is sure which. The guy nods, has what might be a ghost of a smile to himself as he walks out, but not before saying, "See you then."

As she turns around and pours them coffee refills, neither of them can help laughing at the small but irrepressible smile on that Bambi-eyed face of hers.

E

"Hi, Dionne. Can I ask you something?" Jane's sitting on her under-stuffed couch, trying to fight the urge to get up and pace around her apartment.

"Sure, honey. What is it?"

"I got asked out by this guy who…you remember me telling you about last Tuesday?"

"When you were attacked, yes. The man who helped you out asked you out? When did this happen?"

"Yesterday afternoon. I want to go, I really do, and it's a really casual date—we're going to the Pittsburgh Zoo, but I felt I should tell you."

"You know dating's not advised when you're only a year sober." She sounds exasperated, and Jane waits for the big, fat, "No" and wonders if she'd go so far as to go through with it anyway.

"I understand," she says. She tests her luck. "Granted, I already told him yes…"

"You're not obligated to go out with him, you know."

"No, I know. It's like I said, I want to go out with him."

"He sounds nice enough, but you still have to remember that a man's a man, and you're at an odd time in your life."

"I know. I know. It's only the zoo, Dionne." She just wants the "OK" and a seal of approval so she won't feel any guilt about going on a date. Is that too much to ask? It's not like she plans on sleeping with him—she wouldn't know how to go about something like that if she even wanted to. The prospect is terrifying even in the purely hypothetical sense.

At long last, she hears a resigned sigh on the other line. "Call me afterwards, let me know how it went."

"I will," Jane promises, and after she hangs up, resists the tugging urge to get up and do a goofy, Snoopy-esque dance.

A

He can't help but smile a little when she comes out to meet him, looking honestly happy to see him. He's no good at small talk, and apparently, neither is she, so aside from "Hi" and "How are you" and "doin' okay" he really doesn't say much as they reach and get onto the bus that will take them downtown.

"Since you're the one who's been there, which exhibit is the best?" she asks him as they sit down across from each other.

He shrugs. "Depends on the animals you like watching the most," he tells her.

"And…?" she starts, a hint of a smile on her face, waves her hand as if to say, 'go on'.

"Which one's my favorite?" She nods. It was all when he was a little kid. What he remembers more than anything is his Pop, hung-over and sitting outside the exhibits to avoid the smell with a flask hidden in his coat pocket, trying to get him and Brendan in and out as quick as possible, cursing up a storm when they asked if they could stay another five minutes. "Shit. Can't really guess. I kinda liked everything. I mean, what was your favorite?"

"Sea otters, anything aquarium related, penguins, prairie dogs, primates, marsupials, all the really giant animals like elephants, hippos, giraffes…" she rattles off the list, shrugs, and sits back. "Hell, I guess I like everything as well." She sits back, tries to act cool but looks like she's getting a little antsy. He likes her big dark eyes and rosebud mouth, and thinks that this is a little more than he bargained for last Tuesday when he helped a young woman out of a rough encounter.

He's seriously not good at this shit; talking to someone he doesn't really know. He asks a few feeble questions about her work and she answers in kind. He asks if she's friends with anyone from the diner, she says yes, one of the cooks and his boyfriend. She asks him if he's friends with anyone from his work and he's not. All the faces sort of blend together for him. She asks him if he'd doing physical therapy and he mentions David, the closest thing he's had in months to a friend—though he definitely doesn't say that. He hopes she gets that there are lots of things he doesn't want to get into—family, adolescence, adulthood, pretty much anything about himself, but he can't easily say, "Listen, I like you but I'd rather not say anything." He's uncomfortable in his skin, wants to get up and walk around, and couldn't be any more relieved when they finally reach the zoo.

He ignores the military discount sign when they pay, and though he ignores the curious look she gives him when he pays full price, he notices. He almost silently dares her to comment, is relieved when she doesn't. And it occurs to him as they head through the zoo that this is the best option he could've thought of—he doesn't have to talk much, they can keep moving, there's no need for a conversation starting with "So, tell me all about yourself." He's actually enjoying himself, and it's safe to say she's enjoying herself as well.

They reach the prairie dog exhibit, and she bursts out laughing at one really fat prairie dog that sits in the center, chewing something with its eyes closed, looking like a furry little Buddha statue, and the others that come up and get on their hind feet to get a better look at the people, bobbing around like squirrels.

They go through the Asian forest section, where they see a tiger pacing around his exhibit, and as they stand beside each other, hands on the guardrails, to watch, they notice a pretty big cub come out of hiding. They hear a small child next to them say, "Awww. Look, Mommy! Look at the kitty! Mommy, can I pet the kitty?"

Jane hides her laugh with her hand and looks at him as the child's mother says, "No, honey, only the zoo-keeper can pet the kitty."

"Hey, I told you," she says, grinning.

He can't help it; he grins back. Yeah, she did.

He's paying more attention to her than to the animals, mostly because he finds her more interesting. As they pass through the Asian forest and into the African savanna in the world's quickest trip across continents ever, she mentions a few more animal facts.

"African lions," she says, looking over at the pride of lions grooming each other. "The only cats known to live in groups."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She bites her lip as she gives him what looks like a sly grin as steps around him, glancing behind her as she keeps going. He follows. She likes the elephants, of course, especially what looks like a baby elephant, gives an involuntary-looking "Awwww" as it trips over a log. She likes everything, but glances back at him a few times as if waiting for him to talk.

Finally, as they're giving the savanna one last look before moving on, he caves in and says, "Aren't elephants the biggest land animals in the world?"

Jane nods. "African elephants are. Since the Ice Age, I think. The only animal larger is the Blue Whale."

As they head to the tropical forest exhibit, their hands brush one another's, and he's not sure if it's an accident, but he is sure that when Jane turns her head it's to hide the fact that she's blushing. He knows he feels something for her that he hasn't felt in a damn long time—hasn't had the opportunity to feel in a long time, and he's pretty sure she feels something, too.

The balmy air inside the exhibit nearly makes him forget that it's winter outside. It's the most colorful room, he thinks as he looks around; it's a few moments before he notices that Jane's not standing next to him anymore, but instead turning to the gorilla exhibit and turning her back the glass wall.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asks, louder than he intended, as she slides down to sit, back still against the wall.

"Gorillas don't like being stared at," Jane tells him, both grinning and looking embarrassed. "I researched them for a project when I was a little kid. They're shy. They won't come to you if you're looking at them. They're more likely to come out of hiding if you're turned away. Or at least they'll feel a little more comfortable."

He hesitates, and then, feeling ridiculous, comes up to her and sits down beside her, tilting his head back against the glass. "We look fucking stupid," he tells her in undertone.

Jane shrugs. "Probably, yeah," she admits. A few people pass their way, looking confused. He nods to them as if to say, 'Move along, buddy. We're sitting down. You got a problem with that?' while she waves with a polite, ironic little grin.

After a few minutes, a woman passing by asks, "Do you realize there's a gorilla standing right behind you?"

"Is there now!" They both turn their heads to see behind them and sure enough, a full-grown gorilla is watching them, close to the glass. "Thank you," Jane tells her, "Wouldn't have noticed."

By one they're both hungry and double back to a place near the Tropical Forest exhibit to eat, finding a place inside to sit.

"This place is terrific," Jane tells him. "When's the last time you've been here?"

"I think when I was seven…" he breaks off, realizing he was about to say, "for my brother's birthday," and stops. He doesn't want to think about his brother. Not while he's actually having a good time. It had been for his brother's tenth birthday, a pretty good day, what with Mom healthy and dad away from them, at home recovering from one of his "headaches". Even then he hadn't understood why Brendan had wanted the old man's attention so badly. It had been Brendan, not Tommy, who noticed early on that Paddy Conlon might be too sick to be there for one of his older son's birthday parties, but never one of his younger's. He looks down and takes the bun off his sandwich. "So you like it?" he says, taking a moment to look back at her.

"Yeah, I do," she tells him. "I…" she turns red. "Is it okay if I…get your number?"

"I don't have a cell phone."

Her eyes widen. "Really? I think you're the first person under sixty that I've met who doesn't have one. Let me guess: no Facebook, either?"

"None." He hesitates. "But I have a work phone."

She pulls her cell phone out of her purse. "What's your last name?" she asks.

Pretty sure she's unfamiliar with MMA, he has no problem telling her, "It's 'Riordan.'"

And he's right. As she taps both his name and the number he gives her into her phone, she says, "I've always liked that name."

"What about yours?"

She looks up, takes a napkin and takes a pen out of her purse, writes something down, and slides it his way.

He looks at the paper. "Gallagher-Weissman?'"

"Yeah. Below it is my cell phone."

He folds the napkin and sticks it in his wallet. He's not sure what name or ethnicity he expected—something French? Russian? Either way, the name 'Gallagher-Weissman' is warming to him already.

R

The rest of the day goes by quickly. Jane loves the aquarium, the surreal aspect of some of these creatures that, as she tells Tommy while pointing out a 'West Coast Sea Nettle', "remind me that truth really can be stranger than fiction." She finds that just because he's not talkative doesn't mean he's quiet. Quietness, to her, suggests mild-mannered-ness, and while he's polite enough to her, there's something about him that strikes her as far from mild-mannered; she caught a glimpse of it the night they met. She also finds that it's part of what she likes about him.

The tunnel through the Water's Edge exhibit is—dare she say—a little romantic, though there are other people in the tunnel, watching polar bears swim around them. She's caught between pure enjoyment of being here—this is, admittedly, a more enjoyable zoo than the one with which she grew up—and a steady awareness of the man with her, who asked her to come with him to see this.

They stand beside each other for a while, watching one bear do a backflip in the water, kicking his way upwards, and because it's beyond her why Tommy, as he put it, wanted to take her out, she tries to let it slide. She's just happy to be here; this is, without a doubt, one of the best days she has had in a very long time.

A

It's starting to get overcast by the time they leave, without animals, exhibits, or other people to distract them into silence, and a moment or two go by before Tommy asks, "Is it as good as the zoo you know?"

Jane smiles, looks at him. "It's better. Thank you for asking me to come here. It would've taken ages for me to find the time to come here, if ever." She considers asking him why he asked her out, because really, it should be obvious, but she holds her tongue. Instead, she asks, "Is it as good as you remember it?"

"What?"

"The zoo."

There's a slight grin on his face, barely noticeable, but there all the same. He takes her words. "I think it's actually better."

She tests him, she tests her luck, asks, "How so?"

They reach one of the buses that wait for passengers to board, taking them to the East end. It's when they sit down that he finally says, "I wasn't rushed to get in and out. I could actually look at everything."

"Did you find any new favorites?"

"Nah." He tilts his head against the window and looks back at her as they sit opposite each other on the bus. As it starts to crowd up, he leaves his seat behind and takes the one beside hers. "You?"

"Well, I can't really choose a favorite animal, but as far as exhibits go…I liked the polar bear tunnel probably the most."

A small smile quirks at the corners of his lips. "Then I think that was mine."

N

"I heard the waitresses are the best part of the diner, but the food's good, too."

They're walking back. She feels the heat rush to her face and for just a moment feels a little dizzy. Feels for a moment like she's in a film. Moments like these never happen in real life. "Is that a fact?" she says, feeling as though she's talking through a mouth full of Novocain.

Tommy plays it much cooler than she does. "That's a fact," he tells Jane.

She laughs a little, almost entirely due to nerves. "It really is the same kind of idea as Hooters, isn't it?"

He almost laughs. "Nah. You look nice. It's nothing like Hooters. They serve beer at Hooters."

Jane lets out a nervous laugh. "True. I know some people are put off by the fact that they can't technically drink here."

"What do you mean, 'technically?'"

"If someone has a flask in their coat or purse to Irish up their coffee we tend to look the other way."

"My dad must've been there a few times, then," she hears him say under his breath. She decides to pretend she didn't hear. Her apartment draws ever closer, makes her all the more nervous. From here he'll want to go up to her apartment, there'll be some disagreement, she's not ready for it, not ready for what he wants, though she's curious, too…

They get to the outside of her apartment, and because she isn't quite sure what else to say, she stammers, "You know, it's the weirdest thing about polar bears, they can go for months without food and still function just fine…"

A hand finds its way to her wrist and she falls silent. She sees storming grey/blue eyes, feels her spine go rigid as he kisses her, and after a few moments she finally relaxes against some of the softest lips she could ever imagine, bringing her hand up to brush against bristly, unshaved skin, senses a hand resting on the small of her lower back, the heat trapped there making her more aware of what she's doing, what he's doing, and she finds that, at this moment, she doesn't give a flying fuck about "dating after only a year of sobriety". Not while his full lips are on hers.

When they break apart, Jane knows without caring that she's red as beet-root, eyes popping out of her head, and Tommy almost smiles, kind of smiles.

"I'll call you this week," he murmurs, slowly pulling away.

"Yes, you will," Jane tells him, breathless, and then corrects herself. "Ah, I mean, good. I'm looking forward to it."

He pauses, touches his hand to the side of her face, and says, "I'll see you," before going on his way, looking back at her a couple of times.

And she stands mute for close to a minute before heading inside and going up the stairs. Dionne told her to call her when it was done, but she figures there was no harm in savoring the memory for a little while beforehand.