You're a doctor why don't you just figure it out.
It rang through her head, over and over again, constantly whispering in the background. It'd been three weeks. Three weeks since Gail had said those words and walked out of The Penny. Three weeks since she last saw Holly. Three weeks and the pathologist still had yet to figure it out.
For the life of her she couldn't figure out how Holly hadn't put the pieces together, she'd practically spelt it out for her. But she hadn't given up hope. All that had changed was that they didn't talk anymore.
Holly would figure it out, and when she did she would be ready for her.
Five weeks. Five weeks and nothing. Not even radio silence. Gail was starting to lose it, the hope, the surety that Holly would be different. She tried not to let it get to her, she tried, really. But it wasn't enough. Not anymore. Five weeks was a long time to hold onto nothing.
Maybe she'd been too cryptic, too Gail, for Holly to get it. Maybe silence was the right thing. Maybe it was for the best that they didn't ever talk again, breaking it off before the inevitable happened to crush them. Gail didn't know, she didn't know anything at that point, everything jumbled together with every time she thought about -which was morning, every night, every spare minute. Why hadn't Holly figured it out? She was the smartest person Gail had ever met.
Six weeks. Gail willed herself to try. Try once, step out and grab her hand, and try. Fight for once, for one person, the first person to show worth, a difference. Holly was worth one vulnerable moment, one moment of a confession, an apology.
"Goodnight, Gail." Holly pushed the two words out, eyes glossy and telling.
Gail watched her walk away, out of her life, the same words Nick used to break up with her stagnant in the air between them. Every body part was frozen, unwilling to let her walk away, leave, every joint, cell, screaming to abandon ship but shocked still.
Holly didn't get it.
She still didn't get it. Gail licked her lips and held the tears in her eyes, at least until she got to the change room, she needed to move. She needed to get out. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists and breathed in. Unclench, breathe out. Clenched, in. Unclench, out. Gail repeated the motion until she could move, until the ice chipped away enough for wiggle room, and she was gone.
Week eight was different. Weeks eight was a visit with Sophie. A visit where she was called out on her skeletons, on the storm in her eyes, Sophie turned out to be better for her than she thought.
"I think it just wasn't time yet." The girl had said, a strawberry ice cream moustache.
Kids they saw it all through clear eyes, a not fully formed opinion, they had the best insight to most. It was why Gail treated her like an adult, told it to her straight. Sophie had gone through too much to go back to the innocence she once had and Gail respected that.
And maybe she was right, maybe it hadn't been their time yet and when it was, when they'd done the growing and learning needed, they could find each other again. So for the time being Gail was going to let it be. Let it settle where it was, not leaving, not prominent and in the forefront of her mind, just there.
Gail smiled at the girl she hoped to one day get ready for school and passed her a napkin. "I love your new look, the pink moustache really works for you."
A/N: I was rewatching season five when this hit me. Hope you liked it, thanks for reading