Therapy

There didn't seem to be a spoon. The milk swirled slowly through the dark tea, spirals winding through the liquid before it began to mix in. Abby stared down into it, tipping her head up and down slightly to look at it through and over her glasses, the mug coming in and out of focus.

Eventually she sighed.

"I asked him yesterday, outright. If he was having an affair." A wry smile fell over her lips. "I think part of me just wanted to have something to say today. Doing my 'homework'."

"And what happened when you asked him?" Jo asked, tipping her head in a gesture designed to encourage Abby to continue speaking.

Another long sigh. When Abby spoke, her tone was flat. "He said he 'wouldn't dignify that with a response'."

"How did his attitude make you feel?"

"Like he couldn't even be bothered to make an excuse."

Jo's expression remained politely neutral, with just the faintest hint of sympathy that made Abby wonder, not for the first time, what her therapist thought of her frankly pitiful excuse for a relationship. "How have things been since you confronted him?"

"Well, I've been at work. I ended up sleeping in the archive room last night."

"Were you avoiding any further confrontation?"

"I had work to do," was Abby's instinctive response. "I've been looking for... yes. I mean, maybe. Maybe I was doing that."

"Well. I know you find conflict difficult, so I think you should acknowledge how well you did to bring it up in the first place. It shows a great deal of self-respect to be able to do that, stand up for what's important to you."

Abby's brow furrowed. "I suppose. I don't know, I think I just... I'm getting to the point where I just want it over."

Jo nodded. "You've talked about ending the relationship before."

"Yeah, but... I can't do it. I've tried to say it, and..." She shook her head.

"It's difficult ending things, no matter how much we think we _should_. It means disrupting routines, making changes, and admitting to ourselves that despite all our efforts, we can't always make things work." For a moment Jo's expression flickered, and there was a hint of something beyond the mask of professional courtesy. "It can be a very scary prospect."

"So I don't know, I suppose I hoped, if I called him on it, he might..." Abby trailed off, but her therapist, as usual, staunchly refused to finish the sentence for her and she was forced to do it herself. "End it for me."

"And why did you want him to do that?"

"So I wouldn't have to?" Abby sounded almost irritated now. Wasn't it obvious?

"But you want to end the relationship."

"I don't know. Yes, but..." Abby rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. "I don't want to be alone."

"And if you force David into ending the relationship instead of doing so yourself, that will make you feel less alone?"

"No, but at least I won't have done it to myself, will I?"

"So. You have made the choice to remain in a relationship which makes you unhappy rather than end it because you don't want to be alone." Jo regarded her calmly. "If you had a friend who made that choice, how would that make you feel? What would you tell them?"

"I'm not trying to pretend it's the smart thing to do," Abby snapped. "I dunno if you'd noticed but I _am_ going to therapy."

"Yes, you are. So, what would you like to get out of therapy? You initially seemed to express an interest in learning to deal with conflict and making healthy choices for yourself - has that goal changed?"

Abby's eyes narrowed a little. "No."

"Very well. So what do you think the healthy choice in this scenario is?" Jo raised her dark eyebrows just slightly, watching Abby intently.

Right on cue, her patient's eyes were brightening with tears. Abby didn't ever actually cry in Jo's office. But watching her wrestle with the urge, every single session, was becoming almost as painful as simple fits of tears would be.

"I know what you're saying. I do know," she said in that thick, desperately measured voice she got at times like these. "But I'm not ready yet. I'm just not."

"You know this is a safe space, Abby. And I'm not going to judge you for the choices you make. You don't have to feel any shame if you're not ready to make a change yet."

"Well, I do," Abby said bitterly. "I'm ashamed of myself."

"Why?" Jo asked gently, clasping her perfectly-manicured hands on her knees and giving Abby another sympathetic look.

"Bwcause I'm a coward. I'm weak, and a coward, and I can't take control," Abby said, with some conviction. "D'you know, when I asked Dave whether he was shagging someone else, I wanted so much for him to say he had. I wanted there to be someone else, because if there was someone else it meant there was an external factor to blame, you know? The idea that he had met someone, someone he actually wanted to be physical with, someone he could talk to, that was better than the idea that we're just imploding all by ourselves. You know?"

"It sounds like you have already accepted the idea that your relationship is suffering. If you want to know _why_ then couples counseling may help - but if you're unhappy there's nothing wrong with admitting that perhaps it would be better for both you and David if you were no longer together."

"He won't go to couples counselling. I know he won't. There's no point even asking, it just wouldn't happen."

"Would it make you feel better to ask anyway?"

Abby made a face. "It just seems like conflict I don't need. There's so much going on the library, and..." She shook her head.

"Many people, when a relationship ends, look back and ask 'what if?'. I'm not saying that it will fix things, but an attempt to at least broach the subject with David may yield unexpected results at best... and at the least, you won't wonder what could have happened."

"You really think we should go to couples counselling?"

Jo hesitated, just minutely, before smoothly replying, "I think you should do whatever will help prepare you to take the next steps - whatever those may be."

"I..." Abby swallowed. "I'm just not sure there's anything left to fix," she murmured. "Maybe there never was."

"Why do you say that?"

Abby just shrugged. "Come on. It's not much of a relationship, is it? The best that could ever have been said for us was that we were stable. And now we're not even that."

"Well, what do you think your next steps should be?"

The other woman shot Jo a wry smile, lifting a hand to push a few stray tendrils of her chestnut hair behind her ear and adjusting her glasses before suggesting, "Wait and hope it all sorts itself out?"

"Do you think that is likely to happen?"

"I don't know. One way or another, I guess."

"And would you be happy remaining passive in that process?" Jo arched an eyebrow, her expression just the slightest bit challenging.

"Would I be any happier alone?" Abby shot back.

"I don't know, Abby. Only you know that."

Abby didn't seem to have an answer to this. Eventually, she just glanced at her watch. "I guess we're done," she said quietly.

"All right. I'll see you next week."

"Right, I'll... shit, I can't next week - I have that symposium being hosted at the library, I'll be there all night... d'you have any other times free?"

Jo pursed her lips but reached for her diary, flipping through it and scanning the dates. "I have an opening on Monday at quarter to four... or an opening Friday at lunchtime."

"Monday's bad... Friday lunchtime." Abby made an apologetic face. "I'm sorry, I should've remembered..."

"That's all right," Jo said, jotting down the appointment in her diary and then looking up to smile pleasantly at the other woman. "I'll see you then."

 

It was only a few moments after Abby left that Jo's phone rang.

"Straight to the bathroom, just like always," came her PA's voice. "Does she just spend every single session waiting to burst into tears?"

Jo sighed, kicking off her heels and leaning back in her office chair. "Tears are a common and natural reaction to emotional situations, Eric."

"Never said they weren't. Just don't understand how she always manages to hang on 'til she leaves, every time. Every other patient you have..."

"Am I not keeping you busy enough, if you have time to observe the state of each and every patient when they leave their session?" Jo asked, her tone slightly sarcastic.

"What can I say? - I'm a multitasker. What's crawled up your arse, anyway? You seemed cheery enough when you got in this morning..."

"What's up my arse is really none of your business. She cancelled her appointment next week and picked up Friday lunchtime instead - will you update the online diary with that, and cancel my lunch with Meredith, please."

There was a low chuckle on the other end. "Pushed again, huh? Guess the lovely Meredith is on the way out..."

"My work takes precedent over my private life. Meredith knows that."

"Does she know you're bored with her after, what has it been, two months? Mind you, that is a new record, I suppose..."

"Not rushing to shack up with someone after only two months doesn't signal boredom, Eric, merely prudence."

"And cancelling the one lunchtime appointment you have this week for a patient? What does that signal? I liked Meredith. She's friendlier than your usual type."

"Oh, well in that case I'll propose tomorrow," Jo said dryly. "Just cancel the appointment, please, and tell her I'll be in touch."

Eric sighed. "Anything else before I knock off for lunch?"

"I'd kill for a coffee."

"One coffee, extra bitter, coming right up."

 

Abby managed to clean herself up well enough before heading home - a good thing, as Dave tended to turn his nose up at any display of overt emotion and puffy, tear-rimmed eyes were enough to earn a snide remark before an evening of stony silence.

As it was, Dave himself wasn't home yet, presumably working late. Trying to ignore the flood of relief she felt at this, Abby made for the kitchen, intent on busying herself with cleaning and dinner preparation to distract herself from her thoughts. She knew her therapist encouraged reflection after each session but the idea of dwelling on any of the things they had discussed was enough to make her want to cry all over again - if she thought too long about things she wouldn't be able to last until her next appointment, and she really didn't have the money for extra sessions.

She wasn't even sure why she was still going, really. She'd been seeing Dr Costa for four months, now, and they seemed to have reached something of an impasse. Abby was quite sure that they both knew she was in a self-imposed holding pattern, and that ultimately, restating this every week served little purpose beyond marking away the weeks she allowed the status quo to continue. She also knew now that despite her best efforts Dave wasn't just going to get fed up and kick her out, putting the onus for action - any action - squarely on her shoulders. The thought terrified her.

Was it really fear of being alone that scared her? Or was it the fear of what that would mean - a new home, a new routine, the endless explanations and clarifications for everyone she knew, the looming spectre of being pushed to look for someone new...

She blinked as she pondered this; how could she even consider seeing someone new? The whole idea was unthinkable. She and Dave had been together for nine years - more than half her adult life. He was a fixture, a constant. She wouldn't even know how to begin to look for something to replace that, even if there was any impetus to do so, which given her interest in Dave himself in recent years...

She was jolted out of her thoughts by the sound of her mobile ringing in the other room. When she reached the phone and saw 'Dave' on the front screen she nearly didn't pick it up, but guilt washed over her and she sighed, answering it with a falsely cheerful "Hello, you."

"Er, yes. I was just calling to make sure that you were nearly ready to go."

"To... go?" Immediately Abby's mind began to race. Go where? What had she forgotten?

"We're having dinner with my new boss tonight. I told you several days ago, don't tell me you forgot."

Shit. Completely. "Oh, no, no, I just wasn't sure whether you'd be stopping by the house or if I'm grabbing a taxi to you..."

"I'm five minutes from the flat."

"Right, right. I'll... be ready."

Dave hung up without another word; immediately Abby scurried into action, running to the bedroom and pulling open the wardrobe to try and find something suitable to wear. It wasn't that she was purposefully sabotaging things - at least not in this instance - but she could see why her brain might suppress an event like this, since she couldn't think of anything she'd rather do less.

She didn't bother taking long deciding what to wear. Dave would deem it either appropriate or not when he arrived and if necessary wait 'til she'd changed, and she'd long since given up trying to predict which way he'd fall with any given outfit. She stripped off her jeans and woolly jumper quickly, pulling a simple dark blue dress onto her lean, pale frame. It was three-quarter length and in a simple, slightly 50s style. Was it right to meet a boss? she had no idea, but it matched her low-heeled court shoes and the cap sleeves hid the freckled shoulders that Dave seemed to object to her showing in polite company, so it would do for a first try.

She heard the car outside almost five minutes later on the dot, and the sound of Dave's shoes as he entered the neat two-bedroom they had lived in together for almost five years. "Abby?" he called from the hallway. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yep, just let me get my bag," she called, appearing in the hallway a moment later, hair now pulled up away from her face, loose waves escaping here and there.

Dave - tall, blonde, handsome Dave - swept his eyes over her when she appeared, giving a small nod of approval at her outfit but frowning as his eye travelled upwards. "Could you at least put on a little makeup, please - I'm trying to make a good impression tonight," he sighed.

"I'm wearing mascara..." Abby began, but she was already reaching into her bag to check for her tiny makeup bag. And of course, she wasn't wearing mascara any more, was she? She'd cried it all off that afternoon.

Dave waited silently, though not exactly patiently, for Abby to reapply her mascara and the tinted lip balm that was as close to lipstick as she got. Any further requests were forestalled by a glance at the clock, and a few minutes later they were in the car on the way to the posh restaurant that Abby always felt charged far too much for far too little food.

"So, um... who else is coming along tonight?" she asked, if only to break the silence.

"Jeremy Dixon - my new boss, and his wife... I don't remember her name... Gemma? Ella? Something like that. It's just us four, so do try and keep up your end of the conversation, all right?"

"I... all right. What does... Mr Dixon's wife do?"

"I have no idea."

"Right. Well. I'll try."

 

Mrs Dixon, it turned out, was named Jenny, and conversation revealed that while she was not that much older than Abby herself she had two young children which seemed to take up most of her time - and conversational topics.

Abby could tell from his strained expression that Dave wasn't pleased by her attempt to go along with this topic by sharing experiences from her few years as a secondary school English teacher, patently feeling that all this did was bring extra attention to her failure to have a brood of their own to talk about - something he had little interest in, but had on more than one occasion found to leave him a gap in his conversational repertoire.

Still, Jenny Dixon seemed to enjoy her stories, and her husband seemed content to let them chat while he managed to demolish a bottle of wine nearly on his own. All in all Abby had attended worse dinners, even though she knew her stomach would be growling by bedtime for lack of real food to satisfy it.

 

They managed the drive home in almost total silence. They were about ten minutes from home before Dave spoke.

"I didn't appreciate your little stunt last night. When have I ever done anything to make you think I'd been unfaithful?"

Abby sighed. She'd wondered when this was coming. "Dave, you haven't... I don't know. I didn't ask because you'd behaved suspiciously."

"Then why in the world would you ask at all?" To her surprise, he sounded almost hurt.

"Because... because it feels like you can't be getting everything you need from me."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Abby found herself, as usual, beginning to clam up, the simple act of speaking, one that always came so naturally to her elsewhere in life, deserting her as it always did in the face of Dave's persistent demands for information on his terms, and without dithering.

"Just that... just that it seems like the way we are right now... isn't what you want." Isn't what I want. It's not what I want. Christ, you're such a coward.

Dave frowned, his eyes fixed on the road. "You're right - I don't want to be accused of infidelity for no reason whatsoever. I don't want to have to stay up late worrying because my partner has run off in the middle of the night to God knows where. What were you thinking, Abby?"

"Dave, I went to the library, you knew that. I told you that. I was at the archives - it's hardly the first time I've been there all night."

"You were avoiding me."

"I have a lot to do."

"Being busy is no excuse."

"No excuse for what?"

Another sigh. "You know exactly what."

 

And so it went. The argument didn't stop when they arrived home, though Dave waited until they had entered the flat and shut the door securely behind him before continuing his questions - what, exactly, was bothering her? Why did she presume to think that he wasn't content? How were her actions the night before supposed to have helped things? Abby didn't know the answer to half of them and couldn't bring herself to tell the truth for the other half, leaving her to mumble 'I don't know' over and over again until Dave gave up in disgust, stalking off to read his Kindle in bed and leaving Abby on her own in the second bedroom-cum-office they shared.

With a rather ragged sigh, Abby slumped down onto the couch, pulling her laptop toward her from where it lay on the cushion beside her. It would be a long time before she shut down and went to bed - long after Dave himself was asleep, no doubt dreaming dreams of righteous indignation and self-justification.

And why not? After all, you're the one hiding things, really. You're the one who's unhappy and can't say why. You're the one who can't be pleased. Dave is pretty up-front about what he wants. This, at the end of the day, is all your fault.

 

Jo had picked up the phone by accident. It was so unusual for her home phone to ring rather than her mobile that she didn't even think about it.

"I can't believe you stood me up via your secretary! Again!"

"Meredith, I'm sorry," she said genuinely, glad no one was there to see the frown tugging at the corners of her lips. "I had an incredibly busy day, patients back to back, and I didn't want to wait in case you had other plans."

"You're remembering that you already rescheduled me from Monday? What other plans could I possibly make when I never know whether you're actually going to keep the plans we make?"

"I know, I know, and I'm sorry. I try to keep some lunchtimes free but a patient had to reschedule and that was all I had left. I couldn't ask her to skip a week."

"Of course you couldn't." Meredith's tone wasn't sarcastic, but it did have a note of defeat to it, and Jo wasn't at all surprised by her next words. "Jo, I really like you - you're charming, you're gorgeous, you're frighteningly smart and we've had some really great times... but I think we should call it a day. I'm sorry, but I need more time and more stability from my partner. It's not your fault that you can't give that, but it does mean we can't work."

Despite the fact that she had seen this coming - had all but predicted it - it still hurt. Jo breathed out slowly through her nose, then drew in another deep breath before speaking. "I understand. For what it's worth... I've enjoyed the time we spent together, and I know that you'll have no trouble finding someone who can give you what you need. I'm just sorry I couldn't do that."

"Yeah... It's cool. You're a really great person, Jo, you're just... I think I need someone who's a bit more into me. No offense. But listen, if you ever need a friend, or even just..." The words trailed off, but the meaning was clear. "Well. You have my number. I'll see you around, yeah?"

"Of course. Take care, Meredith."

"You too, hon. And Jo? Really do take care, yeah? I wonder sometimes whether, in the middle of all those patients, you do that... I mean... no, never mind, so not my remit..." There was a husky chuckle. Damnit, why did she have to start being cheeky and kind of annoying now, when they were finished? "See you later. G'night Jo."

"Goodnight." Jo was frowning properly when she hung up the phone - half because she was sad to have lost Meredith, who at the very least had been a fun diversion when she had managed to find the time to squeeze her into her schedule, and half because she was curious as to what the other woman had been about to say. She knew that her job impacted her social life, she'd have to be blind not to, but she hadn't thought it was a problem, exactly. The fact that she had no desire to 'settle down' with anybody meant that the long hours and late nights rarely interrupted anything too serious, and she was free to dedicate as much time as she liked to reviewing case files and reading articles. She was social outside of that, however, with plenty of charity dinners, committee meetings and old friends coming into town to keep her busy for a lifetime. There just wasn't a large, partner-shaped hole in her life - which should have been a good thing. So why did so many people think it wasn't?

 

"So..." Abby smiled at the assembled troops. "How's prep going for the symposium? Penny? Vic? Everything in order?"

"We've just finished the agenda with the full schedule of all the speakers - there's a copy in your pigeonhole for approval," Penny said with an emphatic nod, obviously eager to please.

"And I've just been on the phone with University Catering, everything's set for the evening meal... oh, except they said they couldn't source the venison, so they were going to substitute lamb instead..." Vic chewed on his lip with a worried expression. "Should I tell them okay?"

Abby nodded. "Sure, that's fine, just make sure they don't do anything tragic like pull the vegetarian option out from under us - you remember that experience with the writers' conference..."

Vic grimaced. "Yeah. I'll double-check everything, don't worry."

"Penny, did you get the banners and all that bollocks through from the graphics lab?"

"Yup! They're in the conference room, I was going to wait 'til you had a look at them to start putting them up."

"Oh, I'm sure they're fine if you've checked them over," Abby said with a smile. "Really, you two are the best volunteers I've had in years, have I said that before?"

This drew ear-to-ear beams from both Penny, a short-haired young woman with riotous freckles across her nose and Vic, a slight young man with large, Bambi-like brown eyes. "We just want to make sure everything goes perfectly for the symposium," Penny told her, "and you've been putting in more work than both of us combined."

"I wouldn't go that far. I sleep under my desk when no one's looking. Right, you two, back to the coal face - I need to chase down our Emcee and make sure she has half a clue what she's saying on Thursday."

With lingering smiles Penny and Vic hurried off to finish their tasks, leaving Abby alone once again in her office. She slumped into her chair with a long sigh, dropping her elbows onto the desk and her head into her hands.

It had been a very long weekend.

They had been scheduled to visit Dave's father, yet another obligation Abby had forgotten about until the last minute. The thought of spending two hours in the car just to sit in his smoky, ill-lit house had brought on the beginnings of a migraine and she had begged Dave to postpone the visit. He had capitulated, but not happily, and the rest of the day had been spent tiptoeing around the flat both to avoid triggering the headache as well as his annoyance.

Work on Monday had come like a blessing, and the preparations for the symposium even more so, for they involved large amounts of running around delegating and doing without any time, really, to stop and think about the stares and the silences, about the short replies and the pointed door closings and the way that she knew the last time he'd kissed her because it had been a chaste peck, quite obviously for show, as they'd been waiting to be seated at the restaurant on Thursday night. Is it normal to be able to count days since your partner last kissed you?

Now the symposium was only a few days off and already Abby wasn't looking forward to its end, knowing that when the activity died down it would be back to the long, quiet hours in the library conservatory, where there was plenty of time to sit and ponder... everything. Once she had loved the opportunity to be alone with her thoughts and the smell of the old texts. Now she was dreading it.

Still in the meantime, she had plenty of long days ahead of her, and she planned to enjoy it.

 

"Anyway, it's just that he doesn't seem to really understand what I need from him right now. I want him to be there for me, I'm not asking much, just for company on the couch, a hug now and then, for him to come for his dinner when I put it out. But he just... sits around, ignores me completely."

The blonde woman sighed, dabbing at the corners of her eyes, one then the other, with her tissue. "I'm just feeling really vulnerable and I feel like he has no understanding of that - none at all. I should have listened to my mother when she said a cat was a mistake. I should have got a dog..."

"Er... yes, well, now that you understand what your needs are, do you think you could maybe... get a dog as well?" Jo suggested, trying her very hardest to keep a straight face.

"What will I do with Vincent?"

"Well... perhaps you have a friend that would like a cat?"

The woman frowned. "You really think Vincent would cope with that sort of change? He's very set in his ways..."

"So you care for him?"

"Of course! I just... wish he felt the same about me."

"Well, maybe you could... make some compromises. I'm sure he cares for you too, you just need to learn to read the signals. Perhaps he's actually saying... 'I love you' and you're not hearing it."

The other woman gave Jo a long stare. "I know he's a cat," she said. "He's not a person. I'm not mad, you know."

"And don't cats have their own language? Their own way of communicating?"

"But they don't love."

"All creatures love," Jo said solemnly. "In their own way."

 

"I'm not saying I won't make it home at all, but I'm going to be late, I'm just saying I'm going to get dinner here."

"For the third night in a row."

"The symposium is tomorrow."

"So I won't see you then, either."

"Dave, it's been on the kitchen calendar for four months."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. But I can't help but feel like you're using this as an excuse to stay away."

"Well, look, I don't know what to tell you. Would you like me to email you my 'to do' list?"

Dave sighed. "No. But Abby, contrary to what you might believe, I'm not happier when you're not around."

Abby frowned down the phone. But eventually she only said. "I'll text you when I'm on my way home."

"All right."

Hanging up, Abby sighed and pulled off her glasses, reaching to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"Um... Abby?"

She glanced up quickly, rearranging her face into a smile. "Penny."

"The takeaway's here - you said we should let you know when it arrived?"

"Oh, fab, hang on..." Abby dipped a hand into her bulky bag, fishing about for her wallet. "I'll get some cash for you."

"Thanks," Penny said as the older woman handed the money over. "Um... Abby? Is everything okay? If you need to go Vic and I can hold the fort down..."

"What?" Abby said, trying (and only half managing) to sound upbeat and bemused. "Everything's fine. No holt fording... fort holding required."

"Uh, okay. I'll just go pay the guy, shall I?"

"Fab, yes. I'll be right through."

"Kay." Penny bobbed her head and gave Abby a slightly nervous smile before departing, notes in hand.

Watching after her for a moment with a rather pensive expression, Abby quickly shook herself back to attention, and turned her eyes back to the notebook in front of her, staring at it for a long moment before flipping shut the cover. Right. Dinner. Smiling, happy, excited. You can do this.

 

Smiling, happy, and excited lasted just as long as it needed to, through the day of the symposium and the evening meal, where Abby was pleased and relieved to see everything go off without a hitch.

When she arrived home on Thursday night, she knew that whatever had been brewing in Dave's mind since the weekend was probably due to burst, and she found that she was bracing herself for it from the moment she got in the door. Much to her surprise, he greeted her pleasantly, almost warmly, and asked after the symposium, seemingly curious how it had gone.

In her surprise, Abby almost couldn't find an answer, stunned into silence for a moment before she found words. "It was... great, actually," she said. "Really, really good. Everything went... well, there are always a couple of niggles but honestly I don't think it could have gone any better."

"Good. I'm glad it was a success. Tea?"

"Yeah, sure - I'll get it, though, let me just go change and I'll-"

"No, no, you go sit down. I'll bring it through when it's ready."

Thoroughly bemused, Abby made her way through to change into more comfortable clothes, reappearing in the lounge a few minutes later to find Dave arranging a plate of her favourite biscuits next to a pot of tea on the coffee table. There was only one mug, however.

"You're not... having tea?" she asked as she took her seat and Dave leapt into action to pour it for her.

"No, I've got an early morning tomorrow, going to bed in a minute," he said with a shake of his head. "Just wanted to see you before I did."

Abby fought the urge to stare at him. "I, um... thanks," she said. "You... could've gone to bed. I mean, it's nice to see you."

"It's nice to see you too. I've missed you these past few days."

What the hell is going on? "It's been... pretty hectic. I'm sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it." Dave leaned down to press a quick, dry kiss to her lips. "Life does that sometimes."

"How've... you been this week?"

"Oh, fine." Dave went on to describe a particularly complicated merger at work, a description Abby barely heard as she tried to make sense of the evening's events.

Abby nodded along, making the right noises at the right time, falling into silence when Dave had finished.

"Well," he said after a long pause. "I guess I should be getting to sleep now."

Still utterly confused, Abby nodded mutely. "I'll... be through in ten minutes or so."

"Don't rush - I know you need to unwind after big events like that."

 

"And he... just left, not another word. He was out before me this morning, but he left a glass of orange juice by the bed. I just... don't get it."

"His acts of kindness confuse you?"

"He was gearing up for a row for like four days."

"What do you think changed his mind?"

"I really have no idea."

"Have you thought about how you might bring it up to discuss it with him?" Jo asked patiently, crossing her legs at the ankle and leaning forward slightly in her seat.

"Nope. I mean, what if he's just decided he wants to try being nice for a while? If I challenge him on that I'm not exactly encouraging him, am I?"

"It also means that you don't know what caused it, so that if circumstances change you won't know how to encourage it again."

Abby made a face. "I practically ignored him for four days. That doesn't usually get that response."

And you aren't curious why things are different now? "What would normally happen?"

"Well, he'd already have been in bed for a start off. And he'd've left without a word in the morning. And I'd get the silent treatment for most of this evening as well, until eventually, right before bed, he'd tell me off for my 'behaviour' or whatever, informing me what I did wrong, how unreasonable it was and asking me what I was thinking."

"And how would you respond to that?"

Abby shrugged. Abby shrugged a lot when she talked about Dave. "I might reason with him, then snap at him. Or I might just keep my head down, nod, and wait for him to cool down."

"Do you think he was happy with either of those responses, historically?"

"Would you be?" Abby sighed. "You're saying he's trying a new approach."

"It seems likely, yes. How do you feel about his new attitude, besides confused?"

Abby frowned. "Touched. Suspicious. A little annoyed. Guilty that I feel suspicious and annoyed."

"What are you suspicious of?"

"Why he would begin to be so nice, all of a sudden. The only variable is that I asked him if he was cheating on me."

"Which you admitted was an unfounded accusation."

"Of course, but then why isn't he angry with me?"

"Perhaps he realised his behaviour had led you to fear infidelity and he regrets that, and this is his way of making up for it," Jo suggested, tipping her head to one side thoughtfully.

"Yeah. I mean, it makes sense, I guess," Abby said. Oddly, rather than sounding pleased by this idea, she sounded, if anything, almost regretful.

"You said you were annoyed by his behaviour. Why is that?"

Jo knew she'd hit the mark, now. Abby was doing that thing she always did where her stare dropped further and further. First to Jo's hands where they lay clasped on her knees, then down to Jo's feet, and soon she'd be staring into her own lap. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, and tight.

"Because I feel like I've spent this last three months letting him go, and if he's started trying now... I think it's too late."

"Are you saying you're ready to end the relationship?"

Abby frowned. "No. I'm saying that I want to."

"In your mind what is the difference between wanting to and being ready to?"

"Wanting doesn't require the guts to do it."

"So what do you need to do in order to gain the 'guts' to act on it? Is it planning your exit strategy - where you would go, what you would say to people? Is it confronting Dave to tell him how unhappy you've been?"

"I can hardly do that now, not when he's being so nice..." Abby looked up at Jo, comprehension dawning. "And he'd know that."

"Do you think he realises your intentions?"

"What does it say about me that I think it's more likely he's done that than that he genuinely cares about my feelings?"

Jo steered her expression away from pity and into sympathy. "Are you going to let it keep you from acting on your feelings?"

"I don't know. What if..." Abby waited, but of course, so did Jo. "What if I'm wrong? What if I broke his heart?"

"Would it be better if you stayed with him and let him think you were in love with him when you weren't?"

"God, I don't know - I don't know... I just..." Abby shook her head. "I need more time."

"Yes, but you're not just operating on your own schedule. There's David to think of."

Abby looked back into her own lap. "Yeah. I know."

Jo utilised the much-loved therapist's trick of sitting silently, waiting for Abby to fill the space with something, anything. Part of her felt sorry for the young woman, while the rest of her just wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her. Would you listen to yourself? You're miserable! Do something! Her expression was neutral as she watched the other woman stare at her thighs.

Eventually, Jo noticed that something was a little different this time. Abby raised her hand to her face, covering her mouth and nose, and drew in a breath that released again as a quiet sob, her shoulders beginning to tremble.

Shit... Calmly Jo turned and picked up the box of tissues that sat on the side table, leaning forward to offer them to Abby. The younger woman reached for them wordlessly, pulling them into her lap and robotically lifting one out to press it to her face, eyes shutting tightly as tiny, quiet and yet strangled little sobs escaped her throat.

Jo stayed quiet, waiting for Abby to work through whatever emotional roadblocks were currently standing in her way. She knew the other woman would talk eventually, and she didn't want to start her off on any one direction when another would be more fruitful if she was just patient.

Eventually, the tears abated, though Abby didn't look up, remaining where she was, head bowed, tissue now clenched in her hands. "Sorry," she muttered.

"It's all right, Abby. This is a safe place. I'm not going to judge you for anything you say or do here."

"I didn't want to be 'that person', y'know? The one who falls apart over her stupid little problems."

"Everybody falls apart at some point or another. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I should probably get going. Back to work."

"You don't need to leave so soon. Take some time."

Abby finally dragged her light eyes, now red and puffy, up to meet Jo's. "I just... I don't know what else to say."

"That's all right. You don't have to say anything."

"I did love him. I know I did."

"Feelings can - and do - change. That's natural."

"It's not as though I've ever even looked at anyone else."

"Would it be easier or harder if you had?"

"No idea."

"All right."

 

Abby left ten minutes later, on time, having barely spoken another word. With a sigh Jo moved to her desk, kicking off her heels and sinking into her leather office chair. She had another appointment in twenty minutes and she needed to regroup from her session with Abby - easier said than done.

There was nothing unique or even particularly interesting about Abigail Hendry's situation. A young woman, unassuming, reserved, trapped in a loveless, long-dead relationship by her own inability to just get up and get out, make the change that would start the rest of her life in motion.

And yet.... There but for the grace of God go I. It hadn't been nine years, and there had been infidelity, but Jo still couldn't help but see herself in Abby. Her own ability, even as a qualified therapist, to continue fooling herself, stalling herself, telling herself it might all work out...

But it hadn't. And neither will Abby and Dave.

No, he probably wasn't cheating. Yes, he probably did genuinely want to give her more love and attention. But Abby was right; whether conscious or not his latest 'move' smacked strongly of a subtle brand of emotional manipulation, and it was far too late for it to work. Emotionally, Abby had already let go. His behaviour was more confusing than touching to her, and that didn't bode well at all.

It was a shame, really. No, it was more than that. Abby was an intelligent, interesting woman. What had happened to bring her to this point, where she was so afraid of 'being alone' that she would linger in this stale, unhealthy relationship long after she should have been gone? It probably wasn't any great trauma, just a slow degradation of any sense of self-worth or self-respect until all that was left was seeing herself through a distorted lens, unable to recognise the fact that she deserved better.

But then, I didn't either, did I?

 

"So! All-in-all, you're all brilliant, and none of us here at the library could have done it without you."

"And we couldn't have done it without you!" Vic said exuberantly, drawing a cheer from the other volunteers. "You're brilliant too, Ms Hendry!"

Grinning at the small team, Abby found a little of the heaviness that had settled over her after her lunchtime appointment lifting in the face of this little group of enthusiastic young men and women.

"Right. Well. Get out of here, you lot. Some of us have work to do," Abby said in a rather fond tone. "Penny's promised to arrange a night out for you all sometime next week."

"You'll come too, right miss?"

"Oh, um... we'll see. We'll see."

The volunteers all filed out, a few hanging back to get a few last words with Abby before they left. They really were a good bunch, and though Abby wasn't big on socialising she found herself looking forward to the night out - if only to get out of the flat.

 

First, though, there was the weekend to brave - and that weekend, in addition to featuring a daytime Saturday visit to Dave's dad, there was an event on Saturday evening - a fundraiser being hosted by Dave's investment firm that sounded as though it was going to be utterly insufferable.

Dave was still being pleasant, almost apologetic about the fact that they had to spend the day with his father when he was sure she'd rather be doing other things with the weekend. Abby had played her part - apologised herself for the fact that they'd had to cancel the previous week, and she'd borne the smoky flat and the banal conversation with a brave face.

After a quick stop home to change they were back off out, this time to the hotel that had been kitted out for the evening's banquet and fundraiser. Abby wore a black cocktail dress that was cut both higher and lower than she preferred that Dave had picked out and declared, "More modest than you think, and really flattering - and after all, it's a party," and had followed up with such a concerned expression as he backtracked, telling her he 'just wanted her to be comfortable' that she had immediately put it on.

She had been to these fundraisers before and dreaded them - as soon as they arrived Dave would go straight for his 'buddies' and spend the rest of the night laughing jovially with the impenetrable boy's club, leaving her to attempt to find some other way of occupying her time. Usually she ended up drifting idly, occasionally chatting to the few 'wives and girlfriends' she knew and dodging back and forth from the bathroom to the bar and back again just to fill the time. She often ended up drinking more than she'd like, and with the exception of the occasion when she'd ended up having an entertaining chat with Dave's firm's single female executive, who by pure chance was a fellow English and History graduate, she had rarely left with any good memories of the event.

 

Jo was already bored. Although she and Meredith were over, there were apparently one or two leftover 'promises' that were to be kept.

Only if you're amenable, obviously, her text had said - only Meredith would use a word like 'amenable' in a text message, But I never have anyone to talk to at these things. Keep me company and I'll keep you in gin all night?

Well, gin aplenty there might be, but that didn't entirely make up for spending the evening in a soulless hotel function room thronging with the biggest most self-satisfied arseholes she could ever hope to meet. How did Meredith cope with these people, day in, day out?

She let her gaze drift over the crowd, identifying the posturing young execs, the bored wait staff, the nervous junior partners. She almost did a double-take when her gaze fell on a familiar face - Abigail Hendry was hovering by the bar, looking about as bored as Jo felt.

Abby didn't seem to have noticed her yet, her eyes scanning the crowd also, but unseeing, more feigning interest than actually people watching. She was in a short black cocktail dress, much more severe of line than her usual rather more esoteric fare, that beautifully accentuated curves that Jo previously hadn't realised she'd had. Forestalling her having to make a decision about what to do she felt a touch to her elbow, then, and looked round to find her 'date' for the night, now only in principle rather than in practice of course. Meredith grinned broadly.

"I hate my job. How are you?"

"Oh, you know, people-watching. And you might hate your job, but you don't hate the massive salary or fancy car you get to drive around, do you?"

"I suppose it has its perks," Meredith breezed, leaning over to kiss Jo's cheek. "You just get here?"

"Mmhmm. You look great, by the way. Trying to make me regretful already?" Jo said with a slight smile.

"Hah, you have the rest of your life for that," Meredith said with a wry smirk. "Come on, let me get you that gin I promised. Just the one, wasn't it?"

"By the looks of things you'd better _start_ with a double."

Meredith chuckled as they made their way across to the bar, just, to Jo's relief, as Abigail headed away from it toward the bathrooms. "Oh come on, there are occasionally interesting people here. Once I managed to spend half the night flirting with one of the juniour partners' girlfriends - she had a postgrad degree and everything."

"Oh?" Jo asked, raising her eyebrows. "Well, I know what I'm doing the rest of the evening... feel free to point her out."

"Oh, she's around her somewhere. Careful you don't end up snagged by the boyfriend, though - he's a decent enough guy but my god he's boring - he's the blonde adonis over there with the man who looks like a sheep."

Jo looked where directed, smirking as she spotted the tall man no doubt deep in conversation about risk management or corporate strategy with his woolly-headed companion . "I'll keep that in mind," she murmured, leaning an elbow on the bar.

"Anyway, you're here to entertain me in exchange for booze, not to talk to pretty young librarians on my dime." Meredith said, the slight twang to her accent more pronounced as she used the Americanism.

"Librarians?" Jo asked distractedly, turning back to Meredith. "I mean, yes, sorry. How's your week been?"

"Busy. Long. Yours?"

"The same."

Meredith grinned. "Well, you're here now. Let's get smashed."

 

"...so I said, if that's an arm's length merger then I don't want to see your tailoring bills!"

The table erupted into laughter, all of which, like the joke that preceded it, completely bypassed Abby. Dave was in his element here, holding court with several other young execs and trotting out the same old stories that she had heard a dozen times before.

Eventually, she got up to go to the bathroom yet again, with every intention of stopping back at the bar for another glass of wine on her way back - she must have drunk a bottle by now, but buying one would have looked bad of course, so she'd ended up spending half as much money again buying glasses instead.

The stall door in front of her swam just slightly as she sat down on the toilet - she wasn't particularly fuzzy or unsteady, just that slightly drunk stage where her coordination was fine but vision lagged just a shade behind movement. She could hear another figure - no, two people - enter the bathroom, giggling and stumbling a little. No one entered a stall, though - there was a slight rustle, and a sharp intake of breath followed by a long silence and then, unmistakably, the quiet smack of lips parting from a kiss could be heard in the otherwise quiet bathroom.

"Sorry," came a murmur. "Sorry, that was stupid." She recognised the half-American, half-British accent of the one female exec in Dave's office - the one she'd spoken to at the last event.

"No, don't apologise. Things are... well." And that other voice, who was that? It sounded so familiar... "They're a bit muddled, still. As is natural."

"Mm... y'know what, I'm going to go back to the bar before I make even more of a fool out of myself. I'll see you out there?"

"Yes, just going to touch up my face, I'll be right out."

Abby was suddenly very aware that she was holding her breath, still on the toilet, having got as far as peeing and was now sitting, 'air-drying', as it were, through this scene playing out, radio drama style, outside. Now she was left with a dilemma: sit here for god knows how long waiting for this mystery woman to leave, or bite the bullet, wipe and flush, and betray herself.

Then her glasses clattered off to the floor, richoeting and slipping right out beneath the door of the stall and into the main bathroom, and made her decision for her.

Busted...

Bending down a little, she spotted black patent high-heels, and perfectly French manicured fingertips reaching down to retrieve the offending wire-frames.

Quickly finishing up, Abby arranged her face into a suitably 'sheepish-and-amused' expression before exiting the cubicle to come face to face with her therapist.

"Abby," Jo said, sounding surprised - though not as surprised as Abby would've expected under the circumstances. Certainly not as surprised as she was. "I think you dropped these," she added, holding the glasses before her.

"I..." Abby looked at the glasses, then back at Jo. "Just... let me wash my hands," she said, moving quickly to the sink to do just that, head bowed, cheeks pink.

Jo placed the glasses on the countertop and turned to the mirror, pulling a tube of lipstick out of her purse to touch up her lips, just as she had said she was going to do. It was a deep, dark shade of red.

What do I say? What the fuck am I supposed to say at a time like this? Abby's mind raced as she washed her hands and then, after some thought, her face, or rather, she splashed some water on her cheeks, trying to avoid her made-up eyes.

"You must be here with Dave," Jo said smoothly as she finished applying her lipstick and tucked it back in her purse. "Are you having an enjoyable evening?"

"Um, yes," Abby managed. Then, "I mean, yes, I'm here with Dave. The evening is... well. It is what it is." Straightening up from the sink, Abby reminded herself that she wasn't sitting in a chair being examined tonight. Normal Abby, not crazy Abby. She composed herself and turned a wry smirk on the woman next to her, reaching for one of the tiny rolled-up towels that had been provided for their use. "In case you're wondering, I already tried the windows - they don't open wide enough. But I have an elaborate plan for escape disguised as a member of staff that starts with stealing a tray of canapés and ends in Brazil. You in?"

Jo chuckled, standing back from the sink. "You have no idea how tempting that sounds, but I think Meredith might kill me if I escaped now."

Abby blinked a little as her mind was pulled back to what she'd overheard, but she didn't otherwise react, just tipping her head slightly in acknowledgment. "You... look very nice," she said, sounding only slightly awkward as she looked for something innocuous to say. Dr Costa always looked nice, of course - her dark chin length hair always in that perfect 'choppy but under control' style, her tanned skin glowing with health, her make-up and nails immaculate. Tonight of course she was dressed up, too - she wore sleek black tapered trousers and a gray and black brocade-patterned jacket that should have looked slightly fussy but instead just looked effortlessly stylish. The black shirt underneath was unbuttoned just low enough to show a hint of cleavage and Abby couldn't help blushing as she noticed it.

"Thank you, it's always nice to have the chance to dress up a little. You look wonderful as well, I've never seen you in black before. It's very... striking."

"God, yeah, I never wear it to work - I always feel too pale in black - I look like a corpse," Abby said, making a face.

"Nonsense, you look lovely."

Abby smiled reflexively, her cheeks dimpling a little. "Thanks."

Jo smiled back, then tipped her head towards the door. "Shall we?"

"Um, yeah," Abby said, reaching for her glasses and putting them on carefully. "I was on my way back to the bar. I could... get you a drink?" What's the ettiquette when you run into your therapist at a party?

"Why not?" Jo said, holding the door open for the other woman.

Soon the pair had a glass of wine and gin and tonic respectively, and were taking a seat at a little corner table, far from the chattering investors and 'fat cats'.

"I suppose we probably ought not to be talking, really," Abby said with a pained smile. "I don't much want to have to find a new therapist." Her voice wavered just slightly as she made first mention of how they knew one another.

"I assure you, I am more than capable of keeping my professional and private lives separate - I wouldn't be a very good therapist if I couldn't," Jo said with a reassuring smile. "Though if you'd like to keep the conversation to the weather and make me bugger off when I've finished this I can, of course."

"Oh god, please don't, I would really love to be able to just sit down for a bit instead of flitting between the bar and the loo all night pretending to every single person I meet that I have somewhere else I need to go."

"These things are exhausting, aren't they? Still, at least some people seem to be enjoying themselves," Jo said, motioning to the 'blonde adonis' Meredith had pointed out earlier, who was laughing loudly with a group of other young, be-suited types.

Abby followed the line of Jo's gesture, eyes widening slightly at the person she'd picked. "Yeah..." she murmured. Then, rather than remain cryptic or appear odd, she added, "That's Dave."

"Oh." This time Jo did sound surprised. "Well, it's nice of you to stick around so he can have a good time."

"Well, he's still on his best behaviour so I could hardly say no..."

"Mm. Still, it must be nice to go to something like this as a guest, after all the organising you had to do for that symposium."

"I hadn't even thought of that, to be honest - I guess I hadn't even equated the two mentally but I suppose they're similar in some ways. I mean this is to raise money for the charity of the month - some voluntary oveseas thing, and the symposium was just about knowledge exchange, but..." Abby nodded thoughtfully. "I guess. I certainly don't think I could've stayed sober tonight the way I did on Thursday..."

"Well, it's usually good if the person in charge has some modicum of sobriety about them," Jo chuckled. "And likewise that the guests are a bit merry. So I think you've done your duty admirably both then and now."

"And you? I didn't know..." Abby dithered a little. "...that you knew anyone at Jones and Black."

"I've only known Meredith a few months, but she begged me to come along tonight. And I can see why," Jo added with a smirk. "There's only so much finance one can discuss."

"We talked before, last time," Abby offered. "She's... very engaging."

Jo's eyebrows winged up. "Oh, you've met. Of course." She frowned briefly, then quickly rearranged her expression into something pleasantly neutral. "Yes, Meredith is lovely, for all her chosen career would make you think otherwise. Though this is the last one of these she's going to talk me into attending - especially now that we're just friends."

Abby didn't seem to know what to say to this one, instead opting to do that sheepish smile again, looking down into her wine glass.

"Oh, actually, I'm glad to have caught you here," Jo continued easily, as if she wasn't aware of the slight awkwardness descending over their little table. "I'm on the search for a particular historical journal article and haven't had any luck finding it through my usual sources. I don't suppose you'd be able to help me?"

Now it was Abby's turn to raise her eyebrows. "You... you're looking for a historical journal article?"

"It's more for personal than professional reading but yes, I am."

"Well, I wouldn't know off the top of my head, but you could come by the library sometime and I'd be happy to help... what is it?"

"It's about one of my ancestors, actually - he was an explorer, and I have a little project ongoing to chart his travels using historical records and modern-day cartographic equipment."

Abby's eyes lit up at this. "That sounds fascinating," she said. "Are you looking for something of his, or information from an external source?"

"Well, I think I've found all of his journals that are accessible to the public - what I'm looking for now is a report to one of the geographic societies, but it's very tricky to track down."

"Hm..." Abby pursed her lips. "We have membership to most of those at the university. If you come into the library we could take a look through them, run a few searches... Shame I didn't bring my netbook, could've checked on the VPN just now..."

"Well, I'd be happy to come by the library when it's convenient for you if you wouldn't mind checking. I would greatly appreciate it."

Finding herself smiling for no particularly good reason, Abby gave an easy nod, the few stray locks of wavy hair about her face bobbing along. "Tuesday and Wednesday are the best days for me, any time up 'til about six - email me some times you could make and I'll look at my diary? I imagine it's a little less constrained than yours."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll find time," Jo said, smiling. "But I will do."

Abby nodded. "Good. I'll look forward to it."

 

When it came time for the next round Jo insisted it was her turn, standing smoothly and heading for the bar. She had ingested enough gin by this point to make a weaker person weak in the knees, but luckily she was made of stronger stuff than that and her progress towards another drink was impeded only by Meredith, who reached her side just as she had placed her order with the bartender. "Oh, there you are," Jo remarked with a smile. "Sorry I didn't come find you, I was waylaid."

"So I see - by the pretty librarian, no less. Did I see you emerge from the restroom together? Did she..."

"Almost certainly. It's fine, though, don't worry about it," Jo said, putting a hand on the other woman's arm.

"Oh, I won't," Meredith breezed. "Funny, though. How're you getting along?"

"Oh, fine - Abby and I know one another, actually. imagine my surprise when I realised she was your cute librarian."

"You didn't know she was a librarian?"

"Conservator, actually."

Meredith raised her eyebrows. "You have been paying attention. Should I be jealous?"

"If you're jealous of anybody it should be Mr Pretty But Boring over there," Jo said with a tip of her head.

"Hah, him? Only of his prospects. That boy will make more than I do, one day. She's landed on her feet with that one. Still, whether it'd be worth it to have to live with him..."

"Hm. Maybe."

Meredith shot Jo a sidelong look at this effective lack of response. "How do you know our young conservator?"

Jo pressed her lips together tightly. "She's a patient," she said quietly, reaching for her wallet to pay for their drinks.

"Jesus..." Meredith's eyes widened a little, though she deliberately didn't look over at Abby. "I'd never've guessed... should you be socialising? I mean, is that a... thing?"

"It's fine. We're talking about perfectly innocuous subjects - how would it look if I tried to avoid her all night?"

"Well, I mean, I was more wondering about professional standards or whatever, not her being weird, I mean, she's not crazy... she's not crazy, right?"

Jo gave the other woman a Look, sipping her drink. "Therapy is not a thing for 'crazy people'. Have you not learned anything from me?"

"Well, that's what I said, isn't it?" Meredith said with a cheeky grin. "I was just checking."

"Hm. Well, regardless. I've promised to bring her more wine so I better deliver - are you okay just now on your own?"

"Yeah, yeah, I can take a hint. I'll go distract the boyfriend while you move in for the kill," Meredith said, a large theatrical wink showing that she was, of course, speaking in jest.

Smirking, Jo scooped up the drinks and made her way back to the table where Abby was waiting. "Some more social lubricant," she announced, sitting the wine down in front of the other woman.

"Or anaesthetic, depending, Abby said with a slight smirk. "I'm sorry I'm keeping you from your friend," she added. "She could always join us..."

"Oh, maybe," Jo said vaguely, glancing over to Meredith was currently deep in conversation with one of the senior partners. "It's fine. I think we could both use a little space right now."

"So you two were..."

"Seeing each other, yes. The split was amicable, though."

"Well, that's good. I mean, I guess it makes sense that you would be... good at that stuff..."

"Lesbians _are_ known for getting along with their exes," Jo grinned.

"I see... not a... culture with which I'm particularly familiar," Abby confessed, apparently set at ease somewhat by Jo's casual attitude.

"As with all stereotypes, there lies within a grain of truth. Though despite dating for two months we did not move in with one another nor amass several cats between us."

"Bucking the trend then."

Jo smirked. "Well, I'm allergic."

Abby grinned. "Dave would never have a cat. I know without even suggesting it." She paused, frowning a little, then a wry smirk crossed her features. "Sorry, I'm in company mode, I'm talking like everything's fine when you know..." She shook her head. "Worlds colliding."

"Don't worry, it's fine," Jo told her. "I'm enjoying our conversation; it's nice to have a chance to chat 'off the couch'."

"It is," Abby agreed with a grin. "At least now you know I'm not always a malfuntional monosyllabic wreck."

"You know I don't think that of you, Abby."

"I know nothing of the sort."

"Well." Jo sipped her drink. "I don't."

"Dunno what I must seem like in those sessions," Abby said apologetically. "I know I'm not exactly forthcoming."

"Well, it's your money and your time to waste," Jo replied teasingly. "I don't mind."

"I couldn't do your job. I think I'd just give in and slap me."

"Well, I don't think I could do your job, so we're even."

Abby smiled almost sadly. "We never really talk about my work, do we? It must be a little... I don't know... a little sad to have these people pouring out their problems to you, and never telling you about the good things going on in our lives."

"So work is good, then?" Jo asked, sidestepping the issue somewhat.

"Always. Veers between fascinating and just plain rewarding," Abby said with a grin. "Right now I'm wading through this amazing collection of victorian journals that were found in a clearout of the City Library basement vaults..."

And they were off - Jo immediately wanted to know more, and the next hour flew by, only a trip back to the bar interrupting their discussion of the mysterious, anonymous journals and the fascinating encounters and observations they contained.

By the time they looked at the clock it was getting late; some of the older members were shrugging on their coats and the younger members were talking about which bar to go to next.

"God, Dave's going to want to go to The Bar," Abby said, making a face that made it clear what she thought of the overpriced, sleek wine bar mostly frequented by young solicitors and barristers and others of their ilk. "And I'm going to have to either go with him or head home alone. Joy."

"I could probably convince Meredith to head there, if you wanted company," Jo offered, reluctant to end the evening when she had been enjoying herself much more than she had been expecting to.

Abby brightened slightly. "D'you reckon?"

"Just give me a minute."

 

Sure enough, Meredith thoroughly approved of this plan, and soon the gaggle of young executives and hangers-on were making their self-satisfied way to the bar in question. Jo felt a bit odd, tagging along with a crowd of spit-and-polished business types, but at least Abby was there, looking much more comfortable in her wireframe glasses and the comfortable shoes she had apparently swapped out in the parking lot.

"I could let my hair down as well," Abby said as she caught Jo noticing the shoes, "but I think Dave might have a heart attack, it's so wild when it's like that. Anyway, I'm used to it up - librarian chic, you know."

"It looks very nice," Jo demurred, smiling at the other woman. "Though I confess now I'm curious to see it 'wild'..."

"You'll be lucky. Mornings and evenings only, I'm afraid, and I think a sleepover would overstep the bounds of professionalism."

"Er, yes. Most likely it would."

"So you'll have to satisfy yourself with my flyaways - which are, I'm sure you'll agree, very impressive," Abby said, doing a pretty good mock shampoo-commercial-style 'head toss', the wavy locks that had escaped from her twist to hang about her face bobbing along obligingly.

Jo's smile great a bit warmer. "Plenty of women would pay a stylist good money to get that same effect."

"And I do it with just my Irish genes, well done me," Abby said with a returning grin, falling into step at the back of the group as they made their way through the chill air toward the bar, which was only a couple of blocks away, round the corner from a street largely lined with private practice chambers.

The dark-haired woman chuckled. "The same genes that give you those lovely freckles, I'm sure."

Abby rolled her eyes at lovely. "You only say that 'cause you don't have to live with them," she said with a half-joking smile. "I have them on my shoulders too, finding dresses with enough strap to cover them is a total pain. I wouldn't mind so much but D-..." She broke off, shaking her head. "Talking to you is dangerous, isn't it?" she said, daring to nudge the other woman a little as they walked side by side. "You with all the easy-to-talk-to, me used to no polite-company filter."

"The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable. If you'd rather I went--"

"What? No, no, stay," Abby said, linking their arms. "You promised," she admonished.

"Did I?" Jo asked, raising her eyebrows. "I'm very careful about the promises I make, and I don't remember making that one..."

"It was definitely implied."

"Hm. I think you may be reading beyond your sources, but I don't have any intention of leaving unless you'd rather I did."

"Not at all. Although we're lagging behind - we should probably catch up to Meredith before she gets drawn into another conversation with that insufferable kid who kept trying to flirt with her tonight - did you see him? The one who comes up to, I don't know, about up to her shoulder?"

"Oh, I hadn't really noticed," Jo said, surprised - normally she was quite good at picking up the interpersonal ups and downs within a group, but her attention had been somewhat monopolised that evening by Abby. "But yes, we probably ought to save her."

 

Operation Save Meredith was successful, and on arriving at the bar the three women managed to annex themselves somewhat from the rest of the group, finding a little table off the end of where the rest of them sat and, on Meredith's suggestion, buying a bottle of wine to share between them rather than sticking to individual drinks.

"Just a short one for me, I've been on spirits all night," Jo cautioned as Meredith began to pour.

"Lightweight," Meredith commented with a grin, pouting Jo a glass only marginally less full than hers and Abby's. "Besides, I thought getting wasted was in the plan?"

"Is it? Again, people making plans and promises without me," Jo said, giving Abby a teasing look.

"Hey, I never said anything about getting wasted," Abby said, shaking her head solemnly. "This is all on you. And frankly I think it's very irresponsible of you to suggest anything of the sort," she added, deadpan.

"I thought the plan was to drink enough to make a corporate fundraiser bearable - which ended up being assuaged by good company in the end. And we're no longer at the fundraiser, so the plan doesn't stand."

"We're still surrounded by imperious arseholes," Meredith said, lifting her wine to her lips. "Oh, sorry, Abby..."

But Abby just shook her head, waving off the comment with a grin. Eager to steer the conversation away from anything vaguely resembling corporate finance Jo once again began inquiring about Abby's work, knowing it was one topic the other woman seemed to be able to enthuse about endlessly.

The three women had plenty of crossover interests between them, what with Abby's work, Meredith's education and Jo's own amateur history studies, and so time passed easily, the trio growing closer and more insulated as Dave and his friends and colleagues preened and guffawed at the other end of the table. If it wasn't for the fact that Abby was a patient Jo would have suggested they take things back to her flat, but then, that really would be crossing the line.

At length, The Bar kicked out for the night, and perhaps it was Jo's imagination but it seemed to her that Abby was as sorry about this fact as she was.

"Well, back in our boxes, I guess," she said with a wry smile in Jo's direction as they assembled outside, waiting for their little group to gather back together and make their negotiations regarding taxis, cigarettes before getting taxis, buttoning up coats and so on.

"Not completely - remember, you promised to help with my research."

"I can see I'm going to have to be very careful about the word promise around you..."

Jo just grinned and turned the collar of her coat up. "I'll email you on Monday."

Abby smiled and nodded, and might have said something more but for Dave reappearing at her side, then, "Taxi's here," he said shortly, nodding a goodnight to Jo and Meredith, and taking his leave, pulling Abby with him.

"Well," Meredith said, watching them go, "that was interesting."

"She certainly has catalogue of interesting stories," Jo agreed, nodding.

"Mm, that's definitely what I meant," Meredith murmured, then turned to Jo with a slight smirk. "I know I shouldn't ask you to come home with me, but I'm going to anyway, and then you can be the responsible one and say no. Okay?"

"After I drank nearly the entire bar? What makes you think I have any interest in being responsible?"

"Then we're both going to have to pretend to be very sorry in the morning."

"I'm faux-regretting it already," Jo said, slipping her arm around the other woman's waist. "C'mon, let's get a taxi."

 

Abby woke with a pounding headache in an empty bed. A ginger glance at the clock said that it was half nine - long past when she usually woke, but she had stayed up later than usual the night before and drunk much more than normal. She didn't remember what sort of state Dave had been in, though his mood had been quite good, buoyed by the success of the evening and the acceptance of his peers. He had a simplicity about his at those sort of times that Abby found endearing, and she felt a stab of fondness followed by the stab of guilt that now always followed any rememberance of Dave's good points, of the things she'd be giving up when she left, the person she'd be hurting.

when... It was 'when' now. She hadn't admitted as much to Jo... Dr Costa... yet, but she did know it herself. It was over.

She was worried, of course - it had been almost a decade since she had been on her own, and she feared the change almost as much as she did hurting Dave. But underneath it was a sense of resignation and below that, buried so deep that she had only glimpsed it a few times, hope. Scary it might be, but it was for the best - for everyone involved.

Still, she didn't know how she was going to do it, let alone when. Picking their lives apart was going to be a long and painful process. Should she take some prior action now - looking at flats to rent, into buying her own car... or did that make it worse, doing that now, showing that much forethought?

Jo would know what to do - or at least, she'd know the questions to ask to help Abby puzzle through the difficult situation. She felt a sudden urge to call her - not something she'd experienced before, and she frowned to herself, trying in her mind's eye to take the lively, witty, friendly woman from the previous night and wedge her back into that comfortable chair in her office, back into more modest clothes, back into less red lipstick and lower heeled shoes.

Mind you, when you next see her it'll be at your work. The thought cheered her a little, and it gave her the impetus to drag herself out of bed and through to the kitchen for some water.

She remembered now that Dave was probably out at the golf course with his buddies, which meant he'd be away most of the day. That meant she had all that time to herself... _Well, maybe I can get started on that research a little early, see if I can't find some tidbits to wow her with._

 

The main library wasn't technically open on a Sunday, but she and a few of the other staff often went in then anyway to pursue their various personal projects. She saw a few familiar cars in the parking lot but for the most part the library was empty and quiet, a balm for her still-pounding hangover headache.

If the library was quiet, the archives were quieter, a serene haven smelling of old paper and leather, the only sound the quiet chorus hum from the computers and climate control.

Abby had jotted down the name of Jo's ancestor, along with the names of a few sources the other woman had already explored, so the first thing she did was to pull out her notebook and fire up her computer to run a first-level search.

And so began a several hour stretch of research during which Abby disappeared completely into the legend of Michel Costa and his travels. The son of a moderately successful bookbinder and printer, accounts were uncertain how he managed to end up travelling the world. What was certain was that once he began, he was quite prolific - travelling first to the East, following the trails of the Jesuits towards China, and then turning his journey westward to the Americas, meeting and charming native tribes and amassing a collection of instruments, garments and other trinkets that were now scattered across the world in various museums.

Without knowing exactly what article Jo was looking for it was hard to single out anything specific, however, so Abby had to settle for gathering together some likely resources, and printing out a list of references from the various appropriate journals to which the university was subscribed. It made a rather pleasing stack of paper for a day's work, and she stored it neatly away in her desk drawer in preparation for Jo's visit later that week.

After a quiet lunch - sandwiches she'd brought with her - it was back to her own project: the mysterious anonymous Victorian diarist. Something had tickled in the back of her head the previous night as she'd talked about the journals to Meredith and Jo the previous night, though now that she was thinking about it she wasn't sure what it was that had triggered her mind going, and staring back at her notes now didn't help. Damnit, what was I thinking about...

The big mystery of the journals, as the 'anonymous' title might suggest, was that of their authorship. This was a writer who'd throughout his life known many of the famous figures of the late nineteenth century 'scene' in London, befriended the famous and notorious, apparently had tempestuous affairs with several women who, though they were codenamed in the journals, seemed to be some of the most significant female figures of the era, and had seemingly been a highly influential figure without having left any trace beyond these journals. She had been poring over the diaries for several weeks now and had yet to find a single person who fitted as the author.

There was the possibility that they were a hoax - indeed, they had been cited as such by several well-known scholars - but something about them made Abby turn away from that explanation. Maybe it was the clarity of the prose, or the passion with which the author wrote about the various women, some of whom Abby fancied 'friends' in the way that only a young woman with too many books might do. Whatever the case, she knew that there was a real person behind the diaries, and she was dying to figure out who - not for the acclaim it might bring, but for her own personal satisfaction and pleasure.

For now, however, she had yet to actually finish reading all the way through the books, and so every visit to the library meant more time spent simply curled up in some comfortable corner somewhere, working her way through them. It was somewhat slower reading than your average novel, being handwritten copperplate rather than type, but no less engaging for it.

 

"Good morning, Eric - did you have a good weekend?" Jo set her coffee on the front desk as she shrugged off her wool coat, hanging it on the coatrack in the corner of the room.

"Same old. How was the fundraiser?"

"Surprisingly palatable."

"Glad to hear it. And Meredith?"

"She's well." Jo scooped up her coffee and took a sip before continuing. "Could you take a look in my diary, please, and let me know the first free evening I have? Preferably a Monday or Wednesday."

Eric raised his eyebrows, though he reached for the diary - a physical book, which for some reason Jo insisted on him keeping in spite of his protestations that a computerised diary she could access herself from anywhere would make much more sense. "Free evening? I thought you two were..."

"Oh, no, it's not for Meredith, I just want to set up a meeting at the library to do some research."

"Oh. Um. Okay then... you're free Wednesday this week, or both next week. Tonight you've got an evening appointment with Karina Brook."

"God, yes, of course. Well, Wednesday will do, then."

"I'll note it in there. D'you need me to call and confirm with the library?"

"No, it's fine, I'll send an email. Thanks, Eric."

"No... problem," Eric said, sounding a little confused - and understandably so, as usually Jo had him arrange even her social calendar for her.

"Mrs Bolton first thing this morning, right?"

"That's right, in... about twenty minutes."

"All right. Send her on it when she arrives."

Jo was barely sat down before she was opening up her email, though as she opened a window and began her message, she found herself pausing. Should she really be doing this? At the end of the day, Abby was a patient first and foremost, and it was her duty to make sure that she respected that relationship. Would asking her to help with her research overstep those boundaries? More than going out and getting far too drunk for your own good on Saturday already has?

Still, she did want Abby's professional help, and it wasn't as though getting together in a library to look through historical journals was likely to be the foundation of anything beyond a cordial acquaintance, which in fairness she had with a few of her patients, on one level or another - it was inevitable, really.

So she sent a polite email confirming that she would be free to come by the library on Wednesday evening, and a few minutes later Mrs Bolton arrived in her usual flurry of scarves and neuroses and Jo forgot all about her Abby-quandry in no time.

It wasn't until she logged back onto her email at lunch and found that Abby had replied only a few minutes after she'd emailed.

Hi Dr Costa,

That's fine with me - I'll be in the library all evening so just let me know roughly when you'd like to come by so I make sure to fit dinner in at some point.

A

Jo didn't even think before responding -

Don't be silly, the least I can do is buy you dinner for helping me out. I'll come by at half five and afterwards we'll grab something to eat.

The reply came almost immediately - presumably Abby spent her lunchtimes at her computer too.

You don't owe me anything for helping you out. But I'll take you up on the dinner; we can argue over who's paying for it later.

A

 

"Ms Hendry? Oh, sorry, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Abby looked up, guilt written all over her face. "Hm? Oh, no, no, come in, what can I do for you?"

Penny gave an apologetic smile and stepped further into the office. "I was just, um, hoping you'd be able to do me a huge favor... if you're not too busy."

Abby grinned. "I'm always busy, but never too busy to help out my valiant volunteers. What's the favour?"

"I'm just working on my application for the master's programme and I wondered... if you'd be able to write me a recommendation for it, since we worked together so much this year and everything..."

"Oh, Penny, I'd love to," Abby said with a grin. "That's not a favour - it's no less than you deserve and it would be my absolute pleasure. When d'you need it for? How long does it need to be?"

"Oh, well, I printed out the requirements," Penny said, blushing and holding out a piece of paper. "But thank you so much, Ms Hendry, I really appreciate it."

"Please, I think at this point it's Abby," the brunette replied, reaching for the printed sheet.

"Well, um, thank you. There's still plenty of time, so there's no rush, just whenever you can get around to it..."

"Great, well, let me put the deadline in my diary, just in case - you know how I let stuff get on top of me..." Abby navigated to the calendar in her email, hands poised above the keyboard.

"If you could have it done by, uh, the twenty-second?"

"No problem," Abby said, entering the data. "Oh, you'll have left us by then, won't you?" She glanced up with a smile. "You'll be sorely missed."

Penny blushed. "Well, maybe I can come back - for the summer, or something."

"You'd be very welcome. Although the summer's a lot quieter, I'll admit - it'd be pretty easy going. You'd probably end up helping me out in the archives, mostly."

"That would be great! I mean, not that I didn't like helping out with events, but I'd really like to be in the archives..."

"Well." Abby smiled. "We'll see what we can do."

"Thanks so much Ms- Abby. I'll, um, leave you in peace now."

"Sure - hey, don't be a stranger, though, all right? We should get together and have lunch sometime, you can tell me all about your Masters."

Penny grinned. "I have to get in first."

"You'll get in," Abby said decisively. "I happen to know you're going to have a sparkling character reference."

 

"All right, Mary, I'll see you next week... thank you." Jo smiled as her last patient of the day gathered her things and left.

There was a knock at her door shortly after - Jo always made it clear to Eric that he didn't need to stay late when she had evening appointments, but he always stayed anyway. "Do you want me to arrange a delivery for when you get home, or make a reservation at Gino's?"

"Oh, I'm too exhausted for Gino's - just a takeaway will be fine, thank you."

It was right after Eric made his exit that Jo's mobile phone rang, Meredith's name flashing up.

"Hey you... how was your Monday?"

"Oh, Monday-like. Yours?"

"Same. I just wanted to... about the other night..."

"Mmhmm?" Jo asked, packing away some of her things into her purse as she cradled the phone between her shoulder and ear.

"Yeah, I... had a really nice time."

Jo smiled. "So did I. Who knew investment banking could be so enjoyable?"

"I was thinking maybe we could have dinner again some time. Talk things over."

"By 'things' you mean..."

"You and me? Look, I know what I said before, but maybe I was... hasty."

"Oh. Well, I'd love to get together. Just let me find my diary..."

"There's a party at the weekend at the Gallery if you were free on Saturday evening - we could have dinner, and then..."

"Sounds great."

"I'll see you then."

 

As the days went by, Dave continued to be attentive, good natured and helpful, and Abby grew more and more guilty.

Their conversations were no more stimulating than they had been, and the one time Dave instigated sex it was perfunctory and over in a matter of minutes. But afterward he had turned to her, wrapped his arms around her, fallen asleep with his mouth pressed to the back of her neck, and she'd lain awake for hours, eventually drifting off with silent tears drying on her cheeks.

Thus is was with a great deal of relief that she told him that she would be out all evening on Wednesday morning - he seemed mildly disappointed but said that he hoped she would have fun with her 'little project'.

All day, Abby found it hard to concentrate. It was difficult to resist looking back to the notes and printouts that sat in a thick folder titled 'M Costa'. She hurried to finish her work on time, and was just tidying her desk at half five when a knock came at the door.

"It's open," she said, her hands automatically going to check her hair, which was, as always by this time of day, struggling to escape from its twist, thick tendrils of it hanging about her face.

"Abby, hello," Jo said as she poked her head around the door, smiling. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No, no, not at all - I was just clearing up. How has your week been so far?"

"Oh, just fine, thanks. And yours?"

Abby made a face. "Up and down. Quiet, compared to last week, though."

"Well, there's something to be said for a bit of quiet every now and then."

"Definitely. So, um... shall we get started?" Abby said, shifting her seat over a bit and gesturing toward another desk chair off to the side, swivelling her computer screen to the side a little, making it clear that Jo should join her behind her desk. "I've taken some notes and printed some things out that might be useful to start with," she added, patting the thick folder in front of her.

"Oh, great. I brought some of the stuff I've found thus far - not everything, because I don't have one of those little rolly case things," Jo said with a grin as she took a seat and opened up the satchel slung over her shoulder. "So maybe we should start by comparing what we've got?"

"Sure - let's take a look."

 

Over the next half hour, the two women compared the notes they'd made. Jo was pleased to discover that her own research was largely reflected in what Abby had found. She was no historian, but she had been working quite hard to find all that she could on the subject and it was heartening to see she hadn't done too badly at it. Still, it was also good to find that Abby had found additional information, and Jo was excited to see all of it.

"So let's do a journal search, then, see if we can find the article you were looking for..." Abby shot Jo a rather shy smile before turning back to her computer screen, pulling up the font page of the most likely journal she had access to.

"It is okay to be jealous that you've got all these things at your fingertips, right?" Jo asked, scooting her chair a bit closer to watch the screen.

"It probably makes you a huge nerd," Abby murmured as she picked her way through the advanced search options. "Is that a problem?"

"Hah. Not if you being a sassy so-and-so isn't."

"I don't think anyone has ever described me as sassy before."

"Well, obviously making fun of people's intellectual tendencies is a new thing for you, then."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Abby said in a mock-comforting tone. "People keep saying smart is the new sexy and geek is the new cool and stuff. I'm waiting for it to kick in any day now."

"Planning ahead for this eventuality, were you?"

"A girl can hope."

Jo smirked and refocused her attention back on the article that Abby was scrolling through. "Hm, this looks sort of familiar... I may have already seen it..."

"Fair enough..." Abby clicked on to the next article in the list. "How about this one - it fits the description you gave - the time period and content..."

"Hum, I don't know, scroll down a little?"

Abby obliged, scrolling slowly through the article, which seemed to be a reprint of an old article from a long-discontinued journal of the 1880s and 90s that had run a short series on 'gentlemen explorers'."

"It's not the one I was looking for, but it's still new. Would you be able to print it out?"

"No problem at all - I can put it on a memory stick for you too, if you have one with you..."

"'Kay..." Abby hit 'print', then went back to the search results page. "So is there anything here that does look like the article you want? I mean, we have other journals to check still, so..."

"Mm... no, sorry," Jo said with an apologetic look. "Could we look at another?"

"Sure, onward and upward - hope you're not hungry yet," Abby added with a sidelong grin as she navigated to another online journal. "There are a few of these..."

 

It was an hour later that Jo finally glanced at her watch, eyes widening as she realized the time. "I think we may want to call it a night," she said, resting her hand on the stack of paper next to her.

"Hm? Oh..." Abby nodded. "Sure, sorry - I get a bit carried away when it comes to research sometimes..." She shot Jo a sheepish smile.

"No, it's great, I've got a lot to work with here... thanks very much for looking all of that up."

"You know, it's not totally best practice, but it's not that big a deal... any time you want to come in and use one of our computers here I could log you in on my account and you could do more journal searches yourself..."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to get you in any trouble," Jo demurred.

"No trouble at all - takes seconds to log in and I trust you not to do anything daft - really you're just saving me doing it for you. Not that... I mind, I mean, I was happy to help - fascinated, really."

"I don't know if reading about other people's family history can ever be described as fascinating," Jo said with a smirk. "But thank you."

"I think intrepid explorers are interesting all by themselves," Abby said, "even if they aren't members of your family. And I'm sure I'd find your family history interesting anyway," she added. "Anyway," she went on, "I know we were going to go to dinner, but I know I've kept you here really late. If you need to go I can just-"

"Don't be silly, I definitely owe you dinner, not least for all the printing-out I made you do. I thought we could go to Gino's - it's not far from here, and it's one of my favourite restaurants. Have you been?"

"Are you kidding? I practically lived there during my postgrad - well, not for dinner, obviously, way too expensive, but they do these lunchtime calzones-"

"The spinach and ricotta!" Jo exclaimed excitedly. "I know!"

"Best lunch in town for under four quid - I used to be able to survive all the way 'til breakfast if I had to, and I pulled some seriously long nights now and then."

"Well, no need to stretch now - let's get a proper dinner in you, shall we?"

 

"I didn't mean to end up with a huge file of stuff," Abby said, twisting the tagliatelli around her fork idly as she used it to scoop up the last of her sauce. "But I got started reading and I just kept finding more - you mentioned his travels but you didn't tell me about the romance and drama of it all - and the tragedy. The way he met his wife, and then her dying that way... they should really novelise it or something. I mean... not to make light of your ancestor's story but it is a thumping good story." Abby seemed to realise this might seem insensitive, then, and she looked chastened, saying, "Sorry, joint honours history and literature," she reminded Jo with a wry smile. "Can't help looking for good narrative in my history."

Jo chuckled and shook her head. "It's fine - part of the reason I've kept at this is because it's such a good story and I want to know each chapter of it. Though I could never presume to actually write it out - I'll leave that to you talented people."

"Oh god, I'm no writer, I haven't written in..." Abby trailed off, blushing as she remembered who she was talking to, remembered that her standard 'lines' didn't work here. "I keep forgetting," she said quietly, "that you know everything." You know how I feel about my writing, how much I miss it. You know about my secret nights up scribbling or typing away only to bin or delete everything in the morning. Dave doesn't know that, and you do.

Jo smiled warmly, no doubt thinking the same thing but having the good grace not to actually bring it up. "Far from it. For one, I know nothing about cooking - even boiling pasta eludes me," she said with a nod to her ravioli.

"That's not what I- you don't cook? But... huh. Weird."

"It's not 'weird'," Jo said, mock-indignantly. "Plenty of people lack culinary skills."

"Sure, I just didn't expect one of those people to be you." Abby shrugged lightly. "Don't know why."

"Well, it's why I didn't invite you back to mine for dinner - I wanted to thank you, not kill you."

"You really don't have to thank me," Abby said, shaking her head vehemently. "It's been a pleasure, really."

"Then you won't mind me bothering you again in the future?"

"Oh, no, not at all - I'd be delighted. Stops me from obsessing constantly about my mystery diarist."

"Oh?" Jo asked, raising her eyebrows as she leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Who's that then?"

"Well, I don't know - that's the point," Abby said with a chuckle. "I mentioned him on Saturday - those journals I've been working my way through? Someone who apparently schmoozed and shagged his way through late Victorian literary London without leaving a trace behind. Other than these diaries. They've been authenticated - or at least, they're authentically late nineteenth century. But beyond that everyone seems to just hit a dead end. I mean, they haven't been that widely studied, but still..."

"Oh that's right, I remember now. He sounds fascinating... do you have any theories about who he might be?"

"I really don't. I've got as far as ruling out all the obvious suspects, and a few of the less obvious ones. Now I'm looking into relative unknowns, which is a lot harder. Mostly I'm just reading and rereading the journals, trying to find clues other people've missed. It could just be a hoax, of course - some diarist of the time just writing his fantasies out. But they correlate so perfectly to actual events, and there's just this ring of truth about them, you know? The writer, his friends, his loves and his conquests, they're all so real..."

"A true mystery," Jo murmured. "How exciting."

"I think so," Abby said. "Mind you, I doubt I'll ever find out who it is. Better than me have tried and failed."

"I'm sure you'll be able to contribute something - even ruling out who it's not is useful, narrowing the field."

"Useful, absolutely. Not very exciting, though," Abby said with a grin.

"Well, just keep at it. I'm sure you'll get some excitement soon."

At this, a somewhat sad smile flickered across Abby's face, and Jo knew she wasn't thinking about the research any more. "Yeah. I'm sure I will," she said in a somewhat more pensive tone.

"Excitement isn't necessarily to be feared, Abby... it doesn't always herald negative changes."

"Is that your professional opinion?"

"Personal, though maybe I was a bit formal in my phrasing..."

Abby favoured Jo with a somewhat tight smile. "I guess I'll take it under advisement, then," she quipped.

Jo sighed and reached for the coffee that had just arrived, without her even having to order it. "Listen, Abby, I didn't mean to put a damper on the evening, I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's fine, really," Abby said, shaking her head. "I just... it's weird. Sitting here socialising with you when you..."

"Yes, I know." Jo grimaced. "I can understand how it would make you feel. Perhaps it was a mistake - I don't want to make you uncomfortable at all."

Abby's smile turned almost shy. "Y'know, weirdly it's... kind of nice, in a way. I don't have to pretend with you."

Jo opened her mouth to respond, then shut it again, considering the other woman for a moment before smiling warmly. "I'm glad. I've really enjoyed the evening - I hope you have too."

"I have," Abby said immediately. "Really, any time you need some more help, I can set you up on a computer at the library whenever, or go through some archive searches with you - anything you need."

"That's wonderful, thank you."

Abby shot Jo another genuine-but-shy smile, lifting her water glass to her lips. Even with a touch of nerves she was nothing like the Abby that left Jo's office every week, barely holding in tears, shoulders stooped under the pressure of her dead-end relationship. There was no question Jo preferred this Abby - but that was only part of the whole, and her heart went out to the young woman, so bubbly and enthusiastic in some spheres and so downtrodden in others.

"So... I suppose we should be getting the bill," Abby said, reaching into her bag to retrieve her wallet.

"Oh, it's my treat, I insist," Jo said, recalling Abby's earlier assessment of the pricey dinner menu. "Least I can do."

"Are you sure? I really think I should-"

"Please. Let me." Jo fished her wallet out and slipped her credit card onto the tray before Abby could protest further, and then waved the waiter over to pick it up.

"I'll have to treat you sometime," Abby said determinedly, though she ceased her protestations.

"If you insist," Jo grinned. "I never say no to being bought dinner by a beautiful w--." She realized the inappropriateness of her words just a little too late, clamping her lips shut and blushing slightly at the other woman.

Abby seemed only slightly less embarrassed than Jo herself, and she cast her eyes down into her glass once more, her smile growing a little.

Jo was relieved when the waiter brought over the credit card machine and made a show out of paying, chatting with the young man as she willed the redness in her cheeks to subside. She was just about back to normal as she tucked her wallet back in her purse and made to stand. "Well. Can I give you a ride back to the library, or to your house?" she offered politely.

"God, um, hrm..." Abby looked to her mobile phone, checking the time. "I guess I should probably go home," she said, making a face. "D'you mind? I can get the bus easily enough, I usually do..."

"Of course, it's fine, I'm happy to help." Jo didn't mention that she knew where Abby lived, thanks to patient files, or that it was literally across town from her own flat.

"All right, um, thanks, then." Abby smiled again, this time managing to meet Jo's eyes.

"Just as well I decided against that glass of wine in the end, eh?"

"Huh? Oh, yes, I suppose so... I really could just bus it, you know - I even walk sometimes if I'm very late, it's no big deal..."

"Nonsense, it's no trouble."

 

Abby continued to protest a little, but eventually relented, and the two women were soon walking back along to the university parking area where Jo had left her car. The night was still cool and they walked briskly, eager to be inside the car as soon as possible.

Jo's car was a relatively new BMW - sleek and silver and spotlessly clean. She threw her purse in the back before slipping into the driver's seat and then waited for Abby to fasten her seatbelt before starting up the engine.

"Safety first, huh? Dave's the same."

"I had a friend who had a pretty bad accident when we were younger," Jo said, pulling out of the parking lot. "They said the seatbelt saved her life - kept her from going face-first through the windscreen. Made a believer out of me."

"Doesn't stop you driving a sexy fast car, though," Abby teased gently.

"Feel free to check the driver's manual - it's got the full compliment of safety features along with the 'fast' bit," Jo smirked.

"Oh, not to worry, I feel safe in your hands."

Jo chuckled and drove on, making good time in the late-evening traffic. She wondered idly about where Abby lived - was it small? Large? It was almost assuredly covered in books...

Abby kept up a slightly nervous chit-chat on the way, commenting on this or that memory from her student days as they passed through familiar areas of the town - it was a few years before Abby that Jo had studied there, but they had plenty of memories in common from their time as young postgraduates. Jo had been away since, staying in London for some years before her return. Abby, of course, had met Dave by then, and had never left.

Eventually they reached Abby's neighborhood. "So, sorry, I forgot which one you said, is it this one?" Jo asked as she drove slowly along the street.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, just up here on the left is fine," Abby said, gesturing pointlessly. "The one with the anally retentive hedge."

It wasn't hard to spot which one she meant - one particular hedge was trimmed to within an inch of its life, the corners looking like they had been measured with a compass before clipping. "It looks like a nice flat," Jo remarked neutrally.

"Yeah, it's, um. Well. It's very tidy." Abby said the word like it was an insult.

"Well. Thank you again for tonight, it was really nice."

Abby smiled rather sheepishly across at Jo as she fumbled to undo her seatbelt. "Me too. I mean, I agree. I mean..." She chuckled and shook her head. "I had a nice time. Thanks. For the lift. And for tonight. I guess I'll... see you tomorrow."

"Oh, um, yes, so you will." Jo smiled. "Goodnight, Abby."

"G'night. Thanks again." Abby hesitated for a moment, then with another bright-but-nervous smile, she made her exit, trotting up the path to her front door without a second look in Jo's direction.

Well, that was... alternately lovely and awkward. And probably a bad idea, Jo thought, starting up the car and turning towards home. We'll see how tomorrow's session goes.

 

"And I don't know, I feel like he does want to be better - kinder, more thoughtful, more attentive. But sometimes I catch these looks and I know he's still feeling the same impatience, the same frustration with me - he still finds me this messy wayward scatterbrained chore, y'know?" Abby leaned back in her seat, crossing one shapely leg over the other at the knee, drawing attention to the flattering cut of the dark grey trousers she was wearing - a fact Jo attempted to ignore.

Jo had been concerned that things would be awkward today, after the previous evening, but if anything, Abby was possibly the most relaxed Jo had seen her. She was certainly more talkative - Jo had barely had to prompt her before she had begun to recount the week's events - yesterday's research and dinner notwithstanding.

"Well, relationships are about compromise - no couple is completely and utterly compatible. If they think they are, they just don't know each other well enough yet."

"I just feel like Dave and I have less in common than not, though. I mean, back when we got together it was different - we had the same friends, some of the same hobbies... but he's got his workmates now and those are the only people he sees any more, and I drifted away from so many of my own friends during my PhD..."

"Do you feel this lack of your own friends has contributed to your growing apart from Dave?"

"Huh? I... well, that doesn't really make sense, does it? I mean, surely that would push us closer, not further apart..."

"If you're looking to get all your fulfillment from one person it becomes an incredibly difficult task for the other person to accomplish. It can put a lot of stress, a lot of strain on a relationship."

"But it shouldn't have been impossible," Abby contested in a rather plaintive tone. "It shouldn't have... I don't know, maybe I'm a hopeless romantic. Maybe it's totally unrealistic, but I always thought that if you were meant to be with someone, they would be enough. They'd be all you really needed."

Jo pressed her lips together, breathing out through her nose. "How long have you known Dave wasn't that person for you?"

Abby's shoulders slumped. "I don't know," she lied.

Jo waited.

"I don't know," Abby said again. Then, "Maybe always."

"Always?"

Abby couldn't meet Jo's eyes, looking down to where her own hands were now clasped tightly together. "You must think I'm a total coward. I just... I suppose I came to think that that sort of love didn't really exist. I guess it's only more recently I realised that if it doesn't, I'd rather be alone." She smiled wryly. "I blame the diaries."

"How so?" Jo asked gently.

"I suppose they stoked my more romantic side, reminded me what I was missing. I mean, the diarist, he wasn't exactly... faithful, or monogomous - not for most of his life, anyway. But when he loved a woman, everything he wrote came back to her, every minute away from her was just a countdown to their next encounter, and that passion..." Abby shook her head. "I don't think I've ever felt that for Dave. Not even back at the very beginning."

"Have you felt that for anybody in your life?"

Abby's only response was a mute shake of her head.

"Well. I'm not saying you should stay with David if you're unhappy. But remember that you need to be realistic. You should act because it will make you happier, not because you're yearning for someone else to fill that void."

The other woman nodded miserably, running a hand over her face. "But if I stay with him, I never could. I mean... if someone came along, someone who did make me feel that way, I'd be trapped, or I'd have to do something awful to have what I wanted."

"Something awful?"

Abby met Jo's eyes again at last. "I'm not so swept up by my diarist that I believe that unfaithfulness is romantic."

"You wouldn't leave him if someone who loved you came along?"

"I... think I would. And that would be awful."

"So wouldn't it be best to do that sooner, rather than later?"

"That's what I'm trying to say. I just... god, Jo, I need more time..." Abby's expression flickered, as though she knew she'd just misstepped verbally.

"This is all on your schedule, Abby. I'm not here to tell you when or indeed whether to do anything."

"But you do think I should just get out now. Don't you."

Jo merely shook her head - not to disagree, merely to forestall an answer.

Abby eventually sat back with a sigh. "You're right. I know you're right. I don't even know what I'm waiting for."

"When people put off things they don't want to do they often wait for many reasons - but all of them come down to fear."

"So I'm afraid."

"Are you?"

Another long sigh, and Abby slumped down in her seat, legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankle. "I suppose I must be."

"Well. There are many ways of dealing with fear, if you've decided to do so. But they all take willingness."

Abby nodded slowly. "So. What do I do?"

 

"Abby, hurry up, I'm going to be late for the airport..." Impatience crept into Dave's voice as he shouted down the hall. "Are you going to say goodbye or not?"

Abby blinked, and gave a start, her eyes refocussing on the screen, where the short email she'd typed fully ten minutes ago still sat, unsent, in its window.

 

Jo,

Dave's away in London for a few days, so I'm on my own in the flat. Wanted to return the favour of dinner but thought I might cook for novelty value. I have a VPN at home so we could get some research done too. You free any evening this weekend?

-A

 

"Abby!"

"Right! Yes!" she called, hesitating another second before hitting 'send' and jumping up from the computer, trotting through to find Dave already wearing his coat. "Sorry, sorry, was trying to do something quickly and Firefox crashed."

"Don't spend too long one the computer while I'm gone," he instructed with a stern look. "And remember to water the lawn."

Abby nodded. "I will," she said, with a secret amusement that her answer realistically applied to both his warnings.

"Good. I'll call you when I get to the hotel." Dave leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek.

"Have a good flight."

 

Jo's response was some time in coming; indeed, Abby thought that the other woman might be ignoring her and was anxiously regretting having sent the email at all. Finally, however, an email pinged her inbox early Saturday morning.

 

Abby,

That sounds wonderful. I'm busy tonight I'm afraid but could come to yours tomorrow evening?

Hope the solitude is restful.

Jo

 

Jo wasn't usually one of those 'spread all your clothes out on the bed and stare at them' people, but this evening here she was, staring at a pile of discarded outfit options, feeling as though she really owned nothing appropriate to wear for a friendly visit to a patient's house for research and dinner. Which probably says something about the wisdom of this whole thing.

She hadn't had any trouble choosing what to wear the night before - her short red dress may have been a bit racier than her usual fare but she toned it down with a dark suit jacket over the top and her favourite patent leather pumps.

Meredith had certainly approved.

 

"You look gorgeous," she said, standing up from her table and leaning to kiss Jo's cheek.

"I could say the same for you," Jo said with a smile, putting a hand on the other woman's arm briefly before pulling back to take her seat.

"So how was your week?" Meredith asked smoothly as she lifted her menu once more.

"Oh, not bad... busy," Jo replied. "But fulfilling. Yours?"

"Usual. Soulless, amoral. One day I'll quit."

"Mm, sure you will."

"Once I've made enough money." Meredith grinned.

 

And so it went. Meredith had been on good form - witty and charming, and Jo had begun to forget why they were ostensibly here, until they were reaching the end of their main course, and Meredith had cleared her throat, her tone growing a little less sure.

 

"Anyway, look, I thought after last weekend we should probably talk..."

"Yes, of course." Jo nodded, hands cupped around her coffee.

"Firstly, I guess it's worth saying... I really didn't intend for what happened Saturday to happen - honest."

"It's okay. I was a willing participant... but if you'd rather it was a one-off thing then of course I understand."

"The thing is... I don't do casual sex. I just don't."

"Meredith, if you're worried about what I might think please know that I certainly wouldn't judge you for that," Jo said gently.

"No, no, that's not what..." Meredith sighed, reaching to touch her fingers to Jo's hand where it was wrapped around her coffee cup. "What I mean is that it wasn't casual for me. I may have let you think it was, but it wasn't."

Jo's eyebrows winged up, though she directed a smile across the table at the other woman. "Meredith. You know I really like seeing you, but what about your objections with my schedule - objections, which I will add, are entirely reasonable?"

"I don't know. I guess... I guess maybe I feel like I gave up a bit too easily? I mean... if you felt the same."

 

"Abby, hello, wow, something smells amazing." Jo had picked a 'casual' outfit in the end, though she didn't really own much that fit the bill. Still, the khaki trousers and crisp white shirt were at least somewhat more relaxed than her usual garb, and she had even pulled a pair of loafers from the back of her wardrobe to complete the ensemble.

Abby grinned, showing Jo through to the lounge. "I'm almost done," she said. "Just have to finish steaming the broccoli - can I get you a glass of wine? Oh, or are you driving..."

"Just a small glass would be lovely, thanks."

With another beaming smile, Abby bobbed her head in acknowledgement as she gestured Jo toward a seating area of a pristine but comfortable looking three piece suite. She was looking more at ease than Jo had possibly ever seen her. She was casually dressed in a vest, well-worn jeans and bare feet, her hair, as usual, half falling out of its twist, glasses slightly smudged with what looked to be flour. She couldn't be more different from her surroundings, which bore more resemblance to an Ikea catelogue than a home, the only sign that someone lived there a little pile of papers and folders sitting next to Abby's closed laptop on the coffee table in front of the couch. As Abby left to finish the dinner and Jo took in her surroundings she spotted the dining area at the other end of the long sitting room, two places already made opposite one another across the shorter length of the table.

Jo sat for a minute, but she had never been very good at waiting and before long was on her feet, making her way through to what she hoped was the kitchen. "You have a lovely place," she commented, not wanting to startle Abby with a sudden appearance.

"Hah, only 'cause I'm never here," Abby said with a chuckle as she strained the steamed veg. "You should see the state of the study right now - two days away and I've sucked it into my own personal entropy field - I'll be tidying it all evening tomorrow or Dave'll have a fit."

"I'm sure it's not that bad," Jo said, smiling and leaning a shoulder on the doorjamb. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Well, you can take your wine," Abby said with a smile, nodding to the shallow glass of red wine on the counter, reaching to take a sip from her own somewhat fuller glass as she put the pot of Broccoli aside. "You don't mind if I just load our plates up, do you? I've always thought serving dishes are largely a waste of time for two," she said in a tone that suggested that her usual dining partner did not feel similarly.

"No sense in making more mess," Jo agreed. "Especially after you already went to all this trouble - thank you so much, by the way. I've been looking forward to a home-cooked meal all weekend."

Abby beamed, "Oh, it's nothing special - just a steak and mushroom pie and some veg," she said, turning away to bend over the oven, withdrawing the dish in question.

"That you made from scratch? I wasn't aware people still did that - I thought it sprung fully-formed from the freezer section at Tesco."

"D'you know, it's not even that much better or cheaper home-made, I just enjoy it," Abby said with a chuckle as she served generous helpings of the pie onto their plates.

"That's a pretty good reason to do something."

"Mm, makes a terrible mess, mind you - you should've seen the flour everywhere earlier. Any veg preferences? There's broccoli, peas, carrots and boiled new potatoes. Bit of everything?"

"Sounds perfect. There's actually just a little bit of flour still," Jo said as the other woman leaned closer to serve the veg. "Just... there, on your glasses..."

Abby blinked as Jo pointed, but she finished serving the vegetables before reaching to pull her glasses off, breathing on the offending lens and using the hem of her vest to polish it. "I'm such a state," she said with a sheepish smile. "I was going to change before you got here."

"Not on my account, I hope," Jo smiled. "Besides, you look lovely just as you are."

"Yes on your account," Abby contested, her smile widening to a shy grin that dimpled her cheeks. "Look at you - you always look so... put together."

"Well, I haven't been slaving over a hot oven making delicious-smelling food," Jo countered, smiling wider as she caught sight of Abby's dimples.

"Go on through, I'll bring the food in a minute," was all Abby said.

 

"I should've known I'd find you here."

Jo turned to find Meredith approaching, two glasses of champagne in her hands. She smiled, turning back to the bold abstract painting that hung on the wall before them. "Am I that predictable?"

"Last time we were here you spent more time staring at that painting than you did staring at me. And I know you weren't bored with me yet. Here."

"I'm not bored with you now," Jo said, accepting the glass. She then turned to put her back resolutely towards the painting, grinning at the other woman. "There. Better?"

"Much," Meredith said, leaning to give Jo a rather more lingering kiss than was usual for her in public.

The dark-haired woman was surprised, but leaned into the kiss, slipping an arm around Meredith's waist as she pulled back. "We're not even in the Romantic gallery - what brought that on?" she teased.

"Just exercising my regained rights and privileges," Meredith said with a slight smirk.

"As long as you steer away from ordering me into the kitchen I won't complain."

"I assure you I'm never letting your near my kitchen after seeing the contents of your fridge."

"That's probably best for everybody involved."

"On which note, shall we have another couple, do the rounds and then get out of here. Not," Meredith said quickly, "for any nefarious or lewd purposes necessarily. I just... it'd be nice to curl up with you somewhere warm and comfortable..."

"I'd like that," Jo said warmly. "Your place or mine?"

"You've... never suggested your place before. I mean, I know I've been there, but never at your suggestion..."

"Well, maybe I finally got around to tidying up."

Meredith's smile widened, and she slipped an arm through Jo's. "Well, wouldn't want to put all that tidying to waste."

 

"Oh, that was good." Jo pushed her plate back, leaning back in her chair and rest a hand on her stomach. "And if I wasn't completely stuffed I'd go back for seconds, no lie."

Abby grinned, obviously delighted by Jo's reaction. "I'll just have to send you home with a tupperware, there's loads left and Dave tends to avoid red meat, so it's just my lunch for the next few days."

"Oh, no, I couldn't steal your lunch..."

"'Course you could. Anyway, for now, I'm having some more wine. I suppose you're abstaining?"

"I really should," Jo said, making a face. "I'd only have to come back in the morning to get the car..."

"Hey, it's your choice," Abby says. "More delicious wine for me..." Was there a slight twinkle to her eye?

"I don't know if that's a good idea... you shouldn't drink a whole bottle by yourself, you're just a wee thing."

"I'm not wee."

"Sure you are!" Jo grinned. "All wee and freckled. Are you even legal to be drinking that, young lady?"

"Hey, you've seen my medical records, you would know," Abby said, grinning in return and standing, beginning to gather together their plates. "Now, am I topping you up or not?"

After that reminder? I definitely need a drink. "Sure, why not?"

"Go sit down, I'll just take this through."

"Thanks."

 

"So, um... more wine?"

"D'you know, I think what with dinner and that bubble I might be done for the night?" Meredith said, though she did take the opportunity to shift a little closer on the couch.

"Lightweight," Jo said, smirking at the other woman.

"Not all of us have Italian in us."

"Well, would you like some?" Jo made a face even as she said it, knowing how terrible it sounded.

Meredith snorted, glancing sideways at Jo. "I suppose I did set that one up."

"Sorry."

"I'll forgive you if you deliver on your offer..."

"Hm," Jo said, sliding her hand up Meredith's thigh. "I suppose that seems fair."

 

"Here we go," Abby said, sinking down onto the couch beside Jo and proffering the bottle of wine she'd brought through.

"A whole bottle, just for me? You shouldn't have..."

The warm, amused smile that Abby shot Jo as she topped up her glass was yet another 'new look' from the young woman showing yet another side of herself that night - if the party had been witty, social Abby and the library focussed, studious Abby, this was relaxed, good humoured Abby.

Jo wasn't sure which one she liked best, only that she preferred them all to the downtrodden, resigned Abby she saw in her office every week.

"So I found a few articles with references to Michel Costa that I thought you might like to read," Abby said, nodding toward the pile of papers by the laptop. "They're pretty short, so I printed them out."

"Oh, fantastic, thank you," Jo said, though she made no move to pick them up. "I'll take a look once I'm finished digesting." She grinned.

"So how was last night? You said you were tied up with something?"

 

"Oh fucking hell..."

Jo didn't relent, her tongue pressing against Meredith even as she writhed on the dark red sheets of Jo's bed.

Meredith's stream of invective continued even through the shudders of her climax as she bucked against Jo's mouth, arching her back. Eventually Jo pulled away just slightly, pressing her lips to the other woman's inner thigh before crawling back up the bed towards her. "You," she said, flopping down on top of Meredith, "have a very dirty mouth, young lady."

"Mm, not nearly as dirty as yours," Meredith said with a smirk, leaning in to capture Jo's full, damp lips in a deep kiss.

"Hmph." Jo smirked as she pulled back. "I like it that way. And last I checked, so did you."

Meredith chuckled, leaning in to catch Jo's earlobe between her teeth briefly before murmuring in her ear.

"I am going to fuck you senseless tonight. How's that for dirty?"

 

Jo blinked, refocussing on Abby, who was surveying her with mild bemusement. How long had she paused?

"Oh, um. Yes, Meredith and I had dinner and then went to a gallery opening. It was quite nice."

"You two are still getting along well, then?"

"We, ah, 'Talked' last night," Jo said, for some reason reluctant to share too much. "And she's giving me another chance."

"Oh," Abby raised her eyebrows, looking... pleased? Certainly she was smiling. "That's great, I'm really glad to hear it."

"Mm. Thanks."

There was a bit of a silence. "So," Abby said eventually, sitting forward and leaning past Jo a little to pick up the sheaf of papers by her laptop. "There's one in the National Geographic, and the other's an old Observer article I found in their website archives."

"Oh, great. Let's take a look at those, then..."

Abby sifted through her little pile of papers, pulling out a few sheets of stapled together printed paper and putting the rest aside. "Here you go," she said, passing them across before relaxing back into her own corner of the couch, pulling her legs up onto the seat with her and finally reaching for the bottle to top up her own wine.

Despite her distraction - inexplicable though it was - Jo found her attention easily diverted by the articles, both of which she had never seen before. She sank back against the cushions, leafing through the papers and skimming them quickly.

For her own part Abby just curled up in her little corner with her wine, alternately examining the contents of her glass in an idle fashion and, Jo felt without even looking, examining her. "They're not all about him, I know," she offered apologetically as Jo neared the end of the second article, "but I thought you might like them for the context."

"No, no, they're good," Jo said, glancing up and smiling. "It's always good to get a wider picture."

"How did you get on with the PDFs I sent you away with on Wednesday?"

"Great, really great - thanks again for that."

"It was my absolute pleasure. I can't spend all my free time obsessing over late Victorian women. I mean..." Abby gave a smile that was half a smirk and half shy. "You know what I mean," she qualified lamely.

"Oh, better than you know," Jo said with a chuckle.

"No, I meant I..." Abby shook her head, a slight blush creeping over her cheeks.

"For me it's mostly painters. I don't know why, they're probably not as good as authors for material but maybe I'm just too visual, who knows?"

"Painters?"

"Yes, you know, people who paint houses," Jo deadpanned. "No, I mean artists, I have been known to obsess over them, just like you and your writers."

Abby smiled. "Well, not all those women are writers. They're just... he describes them with such clarity, such... well, passion's the only word, really. I see him falling in love with them and I fall a little myself. I suppose they're the subjects, really, rather than the artists... what painters do you like?"

And so they were off again on another tangent; Jo found herself enthusing about her favourite artists and at one point commandeering Abby's laptop in order to show her a few examples in an online gallery.

"Wow, they're quite..." Abby smiled sheepishly. "Modern?"

"Not a fan, I take it," Jo replied with a smirk, though she sounded a little crestfallen.

"No, it's not that. I mean... I just... I guess I've just never really tried... I don't know how to... tell if what I'm looking at is any good..." Abby finished lamely, as though she realised as she spoke how that sounded.

"Oh, I'm no critic. I just know what I like." Jo grinned.

"Okay. So... um. What do you like about that one, then?"

"Well, I mainly like the way it makes me feel when I look at it - it's very evocative."

"Evocative of what? What does it make you feel?" Abby asked, squinting a little at the screen in front of them and clicking to 'full screen' the reproduction in question.

"Well... this one makes me feel like... being in love," Jo admitted, for once shy. "Being unable to tell which way is up, everything feeling bright and vivid, the swirl of emotions..."

The other woman looked away from the picture to Jo's face for a moment that stretched out just a little longer than a simple glance, then back to the picture. "I guess I can see the confusion," she murmured. Then, "So you have been in love?"

"Yes. Some time ago, now."

"And that's what it's like?" Abby asked, leaning forward to look a little more closely at the screen where the laptop sat on Jo's knee.

"I was young," Jo replied, feeling like she had to provide a better explanation now. "And newly... I had only just come out. Everything was confusing."

"When did you... come out? I mean when did you realise..." Abby sat back, shook her head. "Sorry, that's probably a bit personal, isn't it?" she said. "I blame the wine." Nevertheless she leaned over and retrieved the bottle to top herself up, then, offering to do the same for Jo.

"My last year of university," Jo said, holding out her wine for a refill. "After a particularly illuminating summer spent with my cousin in the city. So I came back to school, threw myself into 'the scene', and ended up promptly falling in love with the first woman I slept with." Her tongue was loose, but she forced herself not to hold back - after all, she asked.

"How long did it last?"

Too long. "Three years."

Abby just nodded. Of course, she'd been with the man she'd met at university for nine years, so perhaps three didn't sound like much to her. "Did you fall out of love, or did she?"

"Both, by the end I suppose. She did first."

"How did that feel? For you?"

Jo glanced up; she almost protested the question, but something clicked and instead she gave a small shrug. "I was heartbroken, at first. But even then I knew you can't control other people's emotions."

Abby sat back from the painting with a quiet sigh. "Dave thinks he can control anything."

"He might come across that way. I doubt he actually believes that."

"Maybe. I think he's going to feel lied to. Betrayed to the point I might as well have cheated on him."

Jo frowned deeply. "Don't. No matter what his behaviour, he's not inviting you to do that. Nothing is."

"What?" Abby looked utterly bemused by this. "I was just saying... I'm not going to cheat on him. Even if there was someone I... that wasn't what I meant."

"Well. Good." Jo looked down at her glass, suddenly embarrassed. We shouldn't be talking about this. For so many reasons.

"God, I'm sorry, I'm so boring," Abby said now, apparently misinterpreting Jo's reaction. "I swear I didn't invite you over for free therapy. It's just... I don't know. I guess being able to talk about it to someone, I just... do."

"No, no, it's fine," Jo reassured her, glancing up again. She gave a slight smile. "After all, you've already more than compensated me," she added with a nod towards the wine and the papers on the coffee table.

"Hey, I was down from dinner, remember?" Abby said, managing a weak smile at Jo's reassurances.

"Well... let's call it even now, eh?"

The other woman's smile turned almost wistful. "Is that your tactful way of saying we can't make a habit of this?"

"What? Oh, no, I... that's not what I meant. Though this is... highly unusual."

"I don't want to get you in trouble."

"Oh, no, it's not a problem. I just don't want it to be... strange, for you."

"I think... I think maybe that it's all going to be a bit strange for me, either way. Not bad," Abby went on hastily, "just... whether we're sitting here like this, or back in your office, it's... a little strange. Isn't it?"

"Yes," Jo admitted.

"So I guess the question is whether it's negatively affecting the... professional part. Do you... feel like the therapy won't work any more? I don't really know how it's supposed to work to start with exactly so I... that sounds like I don't value what you do, what I mean is..." Abby shook her head as though to clear it. "What I mean is, is it okay that it's a bit weird? Because for all that it's strange... I like spending time with you."

Jo smiled. "It's up to you whether it works - if the weirdness is preventing you from getting what you used to get out of sessions then yes, it's a problem."

"In honesty, I don't think it does." A slightly embarrassed expression crossed Abby's face before she confessed, "I'm more worried that you being my therapist could affect... I don't know, us being... friends - god, I sound like a schoolgirl."

"You don't have to worry about that, Abby," Jo said, unconsciously slipping into her 'therapist' tone. "I'm not going to make fun of you, promise."

"See, there you go," Abby said, though she looked amused. "You're allowed to make fun of your friends. Gently, anyway."

"Hm. Well, something to work on, then."

"Oh, do I get to give you homework, now?" Abby asked, her tone turning a little more playful. "How exciting..."

"I don't know if I like the sound of that..."

Abby just grinned.

 

"So... I'll see you soon?"

"Mm? Oh, yes, of course," Jo said, rolling over to face the other woman and smiling.

"Call me, okay?" Meredith smiled a little in return, and leaned in to touch her lips briefly to Jo's.

"I will."

"Mm, you'd better. You're on probation." Meredith grinned, but Jo could tell she was only half joking.

Jo almost protested - she had made it clear that her schedule wasn't likely to get less full, but she had said she would try and find more opportunities to see Meredith, and that she wouldn't cancel on her as was her unfortunate habit before. "I'll be good, promise."

"Good girl. Now. I'm going to make breakfast. How d'you want your eggs?"

"Sunny side up?"

"That's my girl."

 

"God, look at the time... I guess I better call a cab."

"Really?" Abby glanced down at her watch. "Wow, I suppose so. I totally didn't notice the time. Clearly modern art isn't so dull after all," she added with a grin.

"I'll make an admirer out of you yet!"

"I'll have to head to a gallery with a fresh eye sometime."

"Well, if you need a companion... I'm always looking for excuses."

The other woman's smile widened. "Really? I'd love that. At least then if I didn't know what I was looking at you could tell me," she added playfully.

"You mean make things up," Jo grinned.

"Well, I'm sure you're very creative."

"Good at bullshitting, you mean."

"That's not the same thing?"

"They do bear some striking similarities," Jo said, chuckling as she dug her mobile out of her pocket.

"It'll be a while, I'm guessing," Abby said, nodding toward the phone. "Taxis are always a bit slow on rainy Sunday nights. Shall I make a coffee? Or tea, given the hour?"

"Whichever you want."

Abby had guessed (correctly) that Jo was a coffee drinker in spite of her apparent ambivalence, and soon they were seated back on the couch with their coffee and tea respectively, Abby surveying Jo over the top of her mug in a way that was both frank and a little curious, gaze drifting across her features in a way that, were Jo unattached and in a bar, would probably signal the beginning of an interesting night rather than the end of one.

This wasn't exactly what Jo had expected from the evening, and indeed the thought was making her equal parts guilty and titillated. She tried to keep her expression neutral as she sipped her coffee, casting her mind around for a suitable topic of conversation to occupy them until her cab arrived. "So... how long have you lived in this flat?"

"God, um... three years? Nearly?"

"Wow, you'd never know, it looks so new..."

"Like I say, you haven't seen the study."

"Is that where you keep your book cave?"

"Hah. Funny you should say that..."

"Oh?" Jo asked, looking intrigued.

Abby gave her a long look. Then she smiled, and pushed to her feet, mug still cradled in her hand. "It's the last night for a while it'll be in its natural state," she said with a sigh. "C'mon."

Eagerly, Jo got to her feet following Abby down the corridor towards the second bedroom slash study.

It was a good-sized room - long and thin, lined with bookshelves completely jammed with books, some double stacked, a large u-shaped desk dominating the whole end of the room. There was just space for two to sit at it, one computer in each corner, but it was obvious that it had only had one person there for the past few days as the desk itself and the area around one of the chairs had turned into something of a nest of books and papers. It couldn't have been less like the rest of the house.

"See, this is more like it," Jo said approvingly, looking about. "The natural habitat of the wild Abby."

"Mm, well, this time tomorrow it'll be spotless again so enjoy this unique sighting," Abby said with a wry smile.

Jo frowned. "I suppose it must be difficult, sharing a working space..."

"Oh, Dave doesn't really use the office. He just keeps his desktop in here. But... he likes it neat anyway."

"Ah. I see."

Abby's lips twitched a little. "You say that, but I bet you don't have an untidy bone in your body. You're always immaculate."

"Hah! Only on the outside..."

"Oh? You're secretly messy? Really? Or, wait, was that a comment on your tortured psyche or something?"

Jo grinned. "No, just my tortured cleaning lady. She definitely earns her keep."

Abby smiled in return, and seemed about to say something else when Jo's phone beeped.

"Oh, that's me, well... thanks for tonight," Jo said warmly, reaching to give Abby's hand a squeeze. "It was really nice."

Abby's fingers curled round hers a moment and just for a split-second she caught that Look again, the one she'd passed off before as frank, innocent appraisal.

"We'll do this again?" Abby asked, in a voice that was almost pleading.

"Of course," Jo found herself saying before she even realised it. "I'll call you."

Abby nodded, squeezing Jo's hand. "See you soon, then," she said with that warm smile that dimpled her cheeks.

"Goodbye, Abby."

 

Abby cleared up the dishes in a daze, her mind running over and over her evening in her head. She had had, for the first time that she could remember in a long while, a nice evening at home. With someone who had appreciated her cooking, someone who didn't mind 'topping up the glass' on the couch, someone who was happy to natter on about art and history and writing while the minutes sped by.

So much for therapy. It wasn't that Jo hadn't helped her as a therapist - she was more together now than she had been in a couple of years, with a much better idea of what she needed to do to make her life work and make sense again. But four months of talking to Jo in that comfy-but-sterile room once a week had never made her feel as good as just one night sitting on the same couch, just talking and sharing one another's company.

Maybe it wasn't surprising - she didn't have many friends, as she had told Jo in their last session. Maybe what she was lacking was friendship, and maybe the slowly-growing friendship with Jo was what caused that funny feeling in the pit of her stomach when she thought about seeing her again.

 

The taxi driver tried to make idle chit chat on the way home, but Jo politely shut him down. She had far too much to on her mind for small talk, though she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to be alone with her thoughts either.

She had had a very enjoyable evening - the homecooked food and wine had been very welcome, the conversation had been interesting, and Abby...

Abby had been, to put it bluntly, radiant. Until that evening, Jo realised, she hadn't really met Abby - oh, she'd met Work Abby and Party Abby and Broken Abby but this woman, in her vest (freckled shoulders proudly on display) and jeans and bare feet, with a smudge of flour on her glasses and that dimpled grin, this was Abby as she was supposed to be, as she really was. The Abby of that cluttered office, all her passions crowded into one room of that otherwise skeletal flat.

And God help me, I think I fell for her just a little bit.

How was she going to sit calmly in front of her on Thursday afternoon, watching her dither and stall and change her mind, and still tell her that she should move at whatever pace she felt she needed to, that she should keep communicating with Dave, keep her options open until she made some fixed decision, when all she wanted to do was tell her to get out, now, before she wasted any more of her life on a man who so obviously wasn't right for her, was stifling her and holding her back from real happiness? The protective instinct simmering inside her for Abby wasn't new - that, she had on some level for all her patients. But the slight prickle of personal investment in it, the fact that she knew she, Jo, would feel relieved on her own behalf, not Abby's, to see Abby and Dave finally separate... that was new.

 

"You're late."

"I know, I'm sorry, my car was across town, I had to pick it up..." Jo paused, frowning, before throwing her coat onto the waiting coatrack. "Have I missed an appointment?"

"Your car was across town?"

"I have to get ready, Eric."

"There's nothing in the diary for last night - something spontaneous?"

Jo rolled her eyes. "I'm going into my office now."

"Your first appointment isn't 'til ten, by the way."

"What? What happened to [the first patient, forget her name]?"

"Cancelled. It's in the book. If you had everything electronic it would send you an alert when something changed, y'know."

"I thought that's what I had you for."

"Sure, and I sent you an email letting you know which you obviously didn't read."

Jo rolled her eyes. "Not everyone is as 'wired in' as you. Some of us have better things to do with our time."

"You waste so much more time doing..." Eric trailed off, rolling his eyes. "Whatever. I'll make you a coffee."

"Thank you."

 

"So the next event isn't until next semester, but we'd like to start preparing now," the rather tubby man at the end of the table was saying.

Seriously, who are you? Abby knew this was a member of the upper management for the university libraries, but he was one of those people one saw maybe a few times a year - he would breeze into a meeting, run roughshod over everyone, then breeze back out again leaving only bruised egos and an unachievable to do list.

"The board has put together a list of speakers they would like approached," he said now, nodding as a list of names was passed around the table. "We expect confirmation within the next two weeks."

"We're without volunteers now," Abby commented as she scanned down the list, "so we might not manage to track them all down before the end of the teaching weeks, after which some of them might be hard to contact..."

"I'm sure you'll figure out a way."

That's right, you tell us to get it done, and we just have to find a way to do it, nevermind the unpaid hours and stress it'll entail... Abby just smiled politely, and made a note in her diary.

The meeting dragged on, and Abby was saddled with several more onerous tasks before it finished. She didn't know where she was going to find the time, but she knew her protests would fall on uncaring ears were she to voice them.

She was making her way from the meeting rooms back toward her office, passing through one of the main literature libraries, when she spotted a familiar head of short, strawberry blonde hair bowed over one of the reading desks.

"Penny," she said in greeting (and to get the young woman's attention). "Thought you've had enough of this place by now."

"Ms H- Abby, hi!" The girl said brightly, grinning. "I, um... guess not?"

"I'm sorry I couldn't manage the pub night last week, I was... well, I'm having a weird time right now," Abby said, wondering as she spoke both where that had come from and why she was telling Penny, true though it might be now that she thought about it. "We'll have to get together for a drink some time - I definitely still owe you a pint."

"Okay, well, anytime, I'm in town for a couple weeks so whenever you want to..." the younger woman trailed off uncertainly.

"Oh um... how about... Thursday evening? I'll have to doublecheck but I think I'm free from half six - or six actually if you don't mind grabbing food somewhere too..."

"Um, sure! Sounds great. Um, should I give you my mobile number, or oh, you probably already have it..."

"I've got it on file," Abby confirmed. "I think you only have my office line so I'll drop you a text."

"Okay, great. Well, um, I'll see you then?"

"See you then!"

Well, yet another reason to look forward to Thursday.

 

"Yes, Mrs Norris, I do think we should discuss that, but I'm afraid we're out of time for this session..."

"Oh, but I really felt we were making progress, couldn't we just keep going?"

"I think it's really a topic that deserves a proper amount of time and I'm afraid I have another client waiting, so-"

"Fine," Mrs Norris sniffed tearfully, fumbling through her purse for a tissue. "I'll just go then."

"I'll see you next week," Jo said gently but firmly. "Goodbye for now."

The older woman bustled out on a tide of old lady perfume, and Jo rose from her seat to put her file back in her 'today's files' drawers, pulling out the file for her next patient, hesitating in spite of herself as she looked down at the name.

Abby Hendry. Jo had been looking forward to this session all week in a strange, perverse way. She didn't want to sit and watch Abby hover on the brink of tears, but.... At least I'll get to see her.

When Abby came in, she was back to 'Work Abby' - autumnal colours, smart-casual, those ever-present low-heeled brown boots and her usual pointless but oh-so-chic little scarf around her neck. Then there was the constant of her hair - always falling out of its ever-present twist, pushed back over her ear, hanging around her face. Every time Jo saw her, the urge to see that hair hanging down her back in its wild, chestnut waves grew stronger.

"Abby, hello," she said warmly, rising from her seat with a smile. "It's... how are you? How are you doing?"

Abby sat down, dropping her bag and coat gently on the floor beside her as usual and sinking into her seat with the look of a woman who's had a long day.

"How do you manage to look so lovely and fresh even at this time of day - you must've been here listening to people moan and whine at you for hours," Abby said conversationally.

"Listening isn't a very physically demanding task," Jo answered, taking her seat once again and smoothing her dress over her knees. "Some might call me lazy, just sitting here all day."

"If every patient's like me, I don't think you're lazy at all," Abby said. "I manage to make some pretty big mountains out of my molehills."

"That's not true. It's not unusual or abnormal to want to talk to someone about your problems."

Abby shot Jo a shy smile, and suddenly it was harder again to remember again where they were.

"Dave's been kind of ratty this week. I don't know if London went very well and it seems to have broken his concentration on being good natured a bit." Strangely, Abby didn't sound too upset about this.

"And how are you feeling about that?"

Abby sighed, sitting back and moving to fold her arms before instead letting them lie by her sides. "Mostly relieved," she said.

"And why is that?"

"Because I don't have to feel so guilty. I don't have to feel as though I'm betraying him by having the thoughts I do when he's being so nice. The fact that all that effort seems to fade away from a few days' stress... it's... comforting, I suppose. To know that even if I did still want to make it work..."

"Right." Jo pressed her lips together tightly, her expression betraying a hint of frustration.

Abby didn't miss it. "Look, I'm not saying I'm a good person, okay? I'm just being honest. That's how I feel."

"No, of course." Jo struggled for a moment to reset her emotions, her frame of mind. "It's good that you're being honest here. Do you think you're ready to begin being honest with Dave now?"

Abby hesitated. "I... don't know. It's a really bad time; he's under a lot of stress at work."

"So... you're going to wait for a better time?"

"I know what you're going to say; what if there isn't a better time."

"Well, it seems to me a 'better time' is when things are less stressful, but as we've seen he behaves more kindly in times like those, which makes it difficult for you to trust in your feelings...."

"I know - I know that. I just..." Abby trailed off, shaking her head. "It's like I said before. I need to adjust to the idea."

"All right. What would help you do that?"

"A personality transplant?" Abby shot Jo a slight smirk.

Jo didn't smile back. "What parts of your personality are preventing you from moving forward?"

A flash of something not a million miles from hurt crossed Abby's face, but it was there and then gone in a second. "I dunno. My guts? Or, you know, lack thereof."

"All right." Jo paused, trying a different track. "Have you worked any more on building your social circle outside of Dan and his friends like we talked about?"

"Not really... oh, actually, I suppose I have a little," Abby said, perking up slightly. "I'm going for dinner and a drink tonight with one of my volunteers. Well, former volunteers, now, although she might come in to help in the archives over the summer."

"Well, that's good." Jo ignored the slight twist in her stomach - it was a good thing. "Are you looking forward to it?"

"I am, actually. I feel like we haven't really had a chance to get to know one another, working together with me as her, well, her boss I suppose. But we have a lot of common interests, so..."

"That's good." Jo smiled politely. "And speaking of work... how is that at the moment?"

"Ugh, I've got senior management riding me about getting ahead for next semester, but it's stupid manufactured stress, not real stress - there isn't any genuine hurry."

"Good." Jo pursed her lips, staring at Abby for a moment before clearing her throat. "Excuse me for a moment, I'll be right back." With that she stood, heading briskly towards the door.

 

Eric looked up with a curious expression as Jo exited her office; she flashed him a quick look that clearly said 'Don't ask' before heading into the bathroom. Shutting and locking the door behind her she turned on the sink, sticking her hands beneath the running water as she stared at herself in the mirror. What are you doing? That is possibly the worst session you've ever started. You've got no focus, you're barely listening to what she says... you need to get a grip!

Abby had obviously been right to worry; their growing friendship was impacting on Jo's ability to provide competent therapy. It wasn't, however, as simple as the dividing line between friend and therapist.

I feel something for her. The colour drained out of Jo's cheeks as she realised this. but she couldn't deny it. She was jealous of her dinner date with her new friend, she resented Dave for treating her unfairly, and above all she was angry with Abby herself for staying with a man so unsuitable for her - especially when there were so many better people out there who could make her happy.

Carefully, she leaned over the sink and splashed some cold water on her face. She hadn't brought her make-up out with her, of course, so the best she could do was freshen up a little.

Eric gave her another inquisitive look as she passed, which she ignored, and the smile she wore as she reentered the room was warm, if a bit lopsided. "Sorry about that," she apologised. "Where were we?"

"Um, I was moaning about work," Abby said in an apologetic tone of her own. "It's fine, though, really. And you know, I have Michel Costa and my mystery diarist to keep me entertained when things get hard."

"How is your research coming on the diarist?"

Abby shrugged. "Eliminated another possibility, hit another brick wall, found another gap. I'm just reading my way through the originals, hoping I magically spot something others haven't."

"How many volumes are there?"

Abby shot Jo a wry smile. "Twenty seven?"

"...Wow."

"Yeah, seriously - something like four or five million words."

"And he still had time to seduce multiple women? He must have gotten up very early in the morning..."

"Mhm, well, they spanned about forty years, so..."

"Ah, I suppose that makes a bit more sense."

"It's kind of amazing, actually. I started drawing a timeline, but I keep getting caught up and forgetting to update it."

"What do you find most interesting about the diarist?" Jo asked, tipping her head to one side.

Jo could see from Abby's face that she immediately knew the answer to this, but she pretended to think about it anyway. "His hidden passion," she said eventually. "That is... his affairs were all secret - not because the women were all married, although some of them were... yet no matter who he was with they took considerable care to hide themselves, to make sure no one thought of them as anything more than friends - secret meetings, lies, backing and forthing that, frankly, makes it harder still to investigate his identity. It was as though his romances were a part of himself that he didn't want anyone else to see. He was otherwise a very confident, sociable person, so it's always been interesting to me, I suppose. That dichotomy."

"I can see how that would be interesting... but how does it personally appeal to you?"

"Personally? I... don't really know. I mean, I've never really felt that way about anyone. So I don't know - maybe it's not the secrecy that appeals, exactly, I mean, you asked what interested me, not whether it was something I wanted..."

"But it is something you want. To feel that deeply for someone."

Abby glanced up quickly from where her gaze had found its way down into her lap. "Doesn't everybody?"

"I couldn't say. Do you think Dave does?"

"I think Dave loves me."

"And don't you think he deserves to be with someone who returns those feelings?"

"Of course. But I can't."

"It seems that you've come to terms to with that."

"I feel like I'm going in circles here."

"Then perhaps you need to turn in another direction."

Abby opened her mouth to respond, then closed it, brow furrowing a little. "I'm pissing you off," she murmured.

Jo frowned, unable to to tear her gaze away from Abby's. "I'm sorry?"

"You've annoyed with me, I can tell from your tone," Abby said. "You sound... I've never heard you sound that way before. I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Abby. This is a safe space. You're not being judged here." Even as Jo said it she wished she could've sounded more convincing, both for herself and Abby.

But Abby's eyes were on Jo, searching her face, her expression ever more pensive. "I know what I need to do," she said, her voice wavering a little. "We've talked about it over and over again - I don't just forget every week when I go home, y'know, it does stay with me. I do think about it. I don't mean t-"

"It's your life!" Jo's voice was too loud, too high, too unprofessional, but she couldn't help it. "It's your life, Abby, you can do whatever you want with it. I'm not here to tell you what to do. And if you want to talk about it each time... that's fine. That's what I'm here for."

"But not what you'd like to be doing."

"That doesn't matter."

"It does to me."

Jo's frown deepened. "I'm afraid we're out of time - the session is over."

"It's been less than half an hour."

"I'm sorry," Jo said, shaking her head and looking at the clock. "I'm... not feeling well. I think perhaps we ought to stop early."

"Jo, please, I'm sorry, I know I'm... Christ, I knew this would happen..."

"It's fine, it's fine, I just... I think it would be best if we took a break. I need to... clear my head."

"A break, what, d'you mean, just today, or..."

"I don't know."

 

Abby couldn't help it; her eyes filled with tears as Jo's words sank in. What the hell is wrong with you?

"I don't understand," she murmured, her instincts battling between the urge to look down and the way her gaze seemed to be transfixed on the other woman.

"I... don't think I'm able to give you the impartiality I should," Jo said, looking paler than Abby had ever seen her. "And that's a problem."

"Maybe I've had enough impartiality," Abby contested, and she could hear the slight note of desperation creeping into her voice, but she didn't care because right now, losing Jo would be worse than being embarrassed. "Maybe I need someone partial right now."

"I don't think that's a very good idea."

"Look, I know this isn't the way things are usually done, but-"

"Abby," Jo said sharply. "Please."

The other woman fell silent immediately. "So is that it?" she asked quietly. "We're done?"

"I just think it's for the best. I can get you the names of some other therapists I'd recommend..."

"I don't want-..." No. This is not you. You don't do this. A little shakily, Abby pushed to her feet, retrieving her bag and coat. She hesitated as she reached the door, looking back at Jo, eyes shining, and she opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it, whirling round to leave a moment later without even bidding her goodbye.

 

There was a long silence. Then the click of the intercom from Eric in the next room.

"What the hell was that?"

Jo's reply, when it came, was shaky. "Cancel the rest of my appointments. I'm going home."

"You don't have an-" But Jo hit the 'mute' on the intercom, and Eric was silent.

 

Abby nearly didn't go out after that. She was in no mood to chat and eat and drink with Penny, to pretend to be in good humour and make witty conversation about academic matters with an acquaintance. But then the other option was going home, and right now she knew that if she did, she would end everything there and then, and in a way that would hurt everyone concerned, most of all Dave.

So here she was, twenty minutes early in the pub where they'd agreed they'd grab some food and a couple of drinks.

She couldn't help checking her mobile repeatedly, hoping to see a text from Jo, something to explain her strange behavior that afternoon or even just a recantation of her refusal to see her anymore. But of course there was nothing.

She was checking it for the nth time when a shadow fell across the table, and she looked up to find her companion for the evening standing before her.

"Oh, Penny." She managed a genuine smile as she took in the woman before her, finding that in spite of everything, she was suddenly glad at the prospect of company. "Good to see you."

"You too," Penny said, grinning and sliding into the chair across from Abby. "Though I feel like I should be reporting in about catering or something..."

"Hah, not tonight - unless you're reporting what you want for dinner," Abby said, nodding to the menus on the table between them. "My treat."

"Oh, um, wow, thanks... okay." The younger woman picked up the menu and began to look through it, though she glanced up at Abby with the flip of every page, giving her a nervous grin. "So, um, how are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine, I'm..." Abby saw the other woman's expression flicker as she looked up at her, and she realised that her reaction to the question was showing all over her face. "I've been better," she said with a sigh. "Life is... a little complicated right now."

"I'm sorry," Penny said sympathetically. "Is it... work?"

"God no - oh, I mean, management's being a pain, but no, work is my sanctuary - even without my lovely volunteers," Abby said with a smile in Penny's direction, [Penny reaction if you like]. "No, it's... life stuff. I'm..." She shook her head, trailing off as she remembered who she was speaking for, and then she changed her mind. Whatever, you've already made a fool of yourself once today, go for broke. "And then today I was dumped by my therapist, which is... well, a new and unexpected hassle. I mean, what does that say about you? When you're so pathetic your own therapist doesn't want to listen to your crap any more?"

"Shit... I'm sorry, I just mean.... well, they couldn't have been a very good therapist if they did that to you, right?"

"Yeah..." Abby sighed. "I don't know. I suppose so. I thought we were getting somewhere but..." She shook her head. "Well, anyway. What do they do well here? All student grub, is it?" she teased with a glance up at Penny.

"Well, you know, cheap and cheerful is a standard for a reason..."

"Means I won't have to regret saying I'd buy you dinner. Table service, or should I go to the bar," she asked, reaching for the menu.

"I think they do table, but bar is probably faster... I can go up," Penny offered.

"No, no, I'll go, just let me know what you want - and what you're drinking, too."

Perhaps slightly nervous about impinging on Abby's generosity Penny ordered a plain chicken burger and a pint of the cheapest beer on tap after a cursory glance at the menu.

Abby gave her a look, but didn't argue, winding her way between tables up to the bar to place their order - Penny's burger and beer, and lasagne and a glass of red wine for herself.

She returned with their drinks to find Penny quickly typing a message on her phone, though she put it down as soon as she noticed Abby, grinning at her as she accepted her pint. "Thanks a lot."

"My pleasure. Sending a distress call?"

"What? Oh, no, definitely not," Penny said with a slightly nervous laugh.

"Just as well, my ego's already bruised enough today," Abby said with a dry smirk. "Anyway, how has your week been?"

Penny treated her to a pleasingly mundane recounting of her week; not that the young woman's life was boring, just not as drama-ridden as Abby's seemed to be at that moment.

"How's the dissertation going? Still wrestling with your outline?"

Her question was met with a grimace that Penny washed away with a sip of her drink. "Yeah... I'm beginning to think I should just scrap it and start again with a new topic, no matter how far behind it'd put me."

"Really? But you seemed so committed. What's wrong with your current topic?"

"It's just not 'clicking', you know?" Penny looked almost embarrassed to admit this. "I mean, I know that's a stupid reason, but-"

"No, not clicking is a good reason. It should click. I mean, at this stage, you're not too far to turn back yet, of course you can rethink. What else are you considering?"

"Well, um, I thought I could do a feminist re-reading of the Brownings, but I don't know, it's sort of been done before..."

"I'm sure if you were passionate about it, you would find something new in it," Abby said.

"Yeah, maybe. We'll see."

"You're very resourceful," the brunette added, shooting Penny a reassuring smile over her wine glass. "I'm sure whatever you decide, you'll make it special."

"Thanks, that really means a lot. How is, um, your own research going?"

"Oh, not bad. I have a couple of things going - there's the diaries, of course, and then I was looking into... some stuff... for a friend..." Abby's countenance faded a little at this, as she remembered who she was looking for. Was Jo still her friend? Had they ever been friends?

"Oh?" Penny asked curiously.

"Mm, the [nth] century explorer, Michel Costa? Oh, he's pretty obscure, you probably haven't heard of him, but he's a relative of... hers."

"Cool! What a neat project."

"Yeah, he's pretty fascinating."

"Well, that's good. At least your research is a nice balance to all that corporate BS."

"It is... So, um. Aside from study, what have you been up to to fill the time now that you're no longer at my beck and call?"

"Oh, you know..." For the next twenty minutes Penny shared snippets from her life, bringing Abby back to her own undergrad years, before she had 'shacked up' with Dave and gotten old and boring. Not that she had been particularly exciting when she was younger, but it still felt ages away.

"God, wish I could get away with that nowadays," Abby said with a wry smile. "Particularly now I can actually afford all that drinking..." She chuckled.

"Well, I've still got a little graduation money left over... next round on me?"

Looking up from her nearly empty plate to her nearly empty wine glass, Abby then shot Penny a grin. "Twist my arm then."

"Oh!" Penny looked surprised, as if she hadn't been expecting Abby to accept. She broke into a grin a moment later. "Okay! The same again?"

"Sure thing, thanks."

 

"Oh, um, Jo, what a surpri-" Meredith was interrupted as the dark-haired woman pressed a kiss to her lips. After a split second of surprise she responded, returning the kiss with some enthusiasm, though she pulled away a moment later to tug Jo inside her apartment, closing the door firmly behind them.

"I know it wasn't our night, but I... just wanted to come by," Jo said, leaning against the other woman and drawing a finger down, between her breasts.

"Hey, that's fine with me... although you got lucky," Meredith said, tugging her toward the bedroom without ceremony, "I'm a very busy woman, remember."

"I know, I know... I was planning on just pining on your doorstep, actually, until you showed up."

"Well, I'm glad to be able to spare you that embarrassment, then."

Jo nodded, and a moment later backed Meredith up against her bed, hands going to tug her shirt over her head. Meredith was obviously still a little bemused - while by no means shy Jo had never before been quite this forward in their previous encounters, but nevertheless she complied willingly, immediately lifting her head to kiss Jo again on being freed from her top. Jo returned the kiss, running her hands over Meredith's bare sides and pulling her close.

"What's come over you?" Meredith murmured between their increasingly fevered kisses.

"Nothing... just had a bad day at work, could use a nice distraction," Jo replied, leaning down to press her lips to Meredith's neck.

"Oh, it's like that, is it? I'm a distraction?" In spite of her words Meredith didn't seem to mind this, her hands now delving beneath Jo's shirt and up across her stomach to cup her breasts.

"Mm, a nice distraction..."

Chuckling, Meredith pulled back to begin unbuttoning Jo's shirt. The dark-haired woman busied herself with undoing Meredith's bra, tossing it aside with a grin.

"Well, just so long as you aren't going to lose interest with me t- ohgod..." Meredith's words trailed off into a moan as Jo's mouth found one of her nipples. She traced it with her tongue, giving a slight 'mm' of pleasure before straightening to push the other woman down onto the bed.

 

"So, plans for the weekend?" Abby asked, leaning back a little from where a staff member had come past to place a little tealight on their table, signifying that it was now 'nighttime'. "Come on, make me jealous of your youthful antics."

"Um... I was planning on spending most of it at the library?"

"Good grief, why? Don't you have some wild partying to do? I was hoping for some tales of late nights and drunken debauchery with a bunch of other no doubt equally unfeasibly good looking and fashionable young postgrads to vicariously enjoy while I wile away my own weekend poring over books..." Abby made a face. "That sounded a little creepy. It wasn't meant to." She grinned.

Penny looked almost flattered, glancing shyly at the folded-up napkin in front of her before looking back up at Abby. "I guess I just want to get things done before going off and partying... I know that sounds boring."

"It sounds sensible," Abby corrected her. "But I'm not your dissertation supervisor. Tell me you at least have some less responsible friends to force you into the occasional bout of therapeutic recreation? Or a floppy haired deadbeat boyfriend or something?"

"Um, no boyfriend. But I'm sure my friends will drag me out if I get too buried in work."

"Glad to hear it. Someone's got to stop you from disappearing into a little ball of work and stress - god knows I could've done with a few distractions when I was working on my dissertation."

"I'm sure it was really good, though."

"It was... well, it passed," Abby said with a wry smile."

"Now you're just being modest."

"Hey, you can read it if you want - it's in the library somewhere in the thesis archives. Trust me, it's pretty haphazard stuff."