A/N: Post 503. This is not a fix it fic...

"We're not, no, we're not friends, nor have we ever been, we just tried to keep those secrets in our lives, and if they find out will it all go wrong?"

You've never tapped the 'decline' button so quickly in your life. You're pretty sure of it. You really don't want to hear it. Not right now. Not from her. Mostly because there's no point. Lisa's self-assured digs, disguised as groveling, really isn't what you want to listen to right now. Not by a long shot.

You swipe at the screen and continue staring. You try and will that little thought bubble to appear and for those three little dots to start blinking. It doesn't work and you're not the least bit surprised. Heartbroken, sure, but you're not surprised. You'd called her. You called her six times. You left three messages. You sent one text.

The blackness of the room feels incredibly appropriate. Your bedroom feels unbearably cold and your bed feels desperately empty. It's not the good kind of empty where you feel like you could stretch out for years in any direction you please, sheets like clouds and pillows like cradles. No. It's the bad kind of empty where you feel so very alone, like you got lost in the woods while you were out for a stroll and now it's so dark out; all this scary space but nowhere to go. It's awful.

The light from your phone starts to burn your eyes and you know it's not good for you. It's not good for people to stare at blue light for so long, and it's really not good for people to do it in dark rooms. You know that. You also know it's especially not good for you, given your already poor eyesight. You don't care right now. You really do not care.

When the tears start to prick your already burning eyes again you tell yourself it's because you've been staring at your phone in the pitch-black for the past two hours. That's absolutely the reason why your eyes are watering. You toss your phone back down on the nightstand and curl up in the opposite direction. You can't help but reach for the other pillow and pull it close. It still smells a little like Gail. She was here, with you, smiling, laughing, in your bed, only two nights ago and now it feels like another lifetime. And you hate yourself for it.

You wouldn't go as far as to say that you did anything 'wrong' per say, but you could have done something better. And you hate yourself for it. Because the last thing you want is to hurt Gail. The last thing you ever wanted was for her to question how you feel about her. You used to be her safe space, you were the one she called to pick her up from the hospital when she felt abandoned and betrayed. You were the one she dragged into a coat closet when she didn't want to be around anyone else. You were the one she wanted to hangout with after her friend's son was kidnapped. You were the one she called when her friends were in the hospital and she'd had one of the worst days of her life. You were the one she broke down in front of, cataloguing the most heartbreaking points of the past for years of her life in the inches of hair she had spontaneously sawed off. You were the one she let help fix her up even though you'd never so much as cut your doll's hair as a kid.

But tonight, well, it was last night now you guessed, since it was after two in the morning...So last night you had been the one to hurt her. Your action or inaction or the combination of them both had lead her to believe that you thought she was less than amazing. And that look on her face had broken you.

You breathe in her scent that still lingers on the pillow again and you can't stop the sob that cuts through your throat and echoes around your room. That look on her face had broken you but her words had stunned you. She had never said anything to you, about you, like that before. Even when she had sharply equated your budding relationship to 'big gay distraction' you knew that it was everything else happening in her world, to her friends, that day that had caused her to snark out like that. It hadn't been about you. But six hours ago she had said that she'd rather tase herself in the eye than spend another minute with you. It felt like getting kicked in the chest by a horse, a sharp, sudden pain that had yet to leave you. You had hurt her, even if she took what you said out of context, even if she was missing pieces, and making incorrect interpretations, she was hurt and it was because of you.

You push the pillow away, hoping that if you can't smell it anymore that maybe you'll stop crying. You're tired, so so tired. You have to be up for work in less than five hours but you can't sleep. You keep running the exchange you had with Lisa, and then the one you had with Gail, over in your mind, trying to think of what you might have done differently. You hadn't wanted to get into it with Lisa and you didn't think you had to justify your relationship to her. It didn't really matter to you what she said or thought. No, you definitely didn't have to justify or explain your relationship with Gail to Lisa. You knew the best way to deal with Lisa was to get her to drop it as quickly as possible. Engaging with her unfounded quips would only make her assaults worse. You learned as much very quickly during undergrad.

You trash around for a second, flopping onto your other side trying to get comfortable, in hopes that you might actually catch a bit of sleep before your alarm tells you it's time to get ready for work.

And then it's ringing. It's ringing loudly. You were asleep, barely maybe. But you were definitely asleep. Your head hurts and your entire body aches. But mostly it's your chest that drags you down. It feels far too heavy and yet empty all at once.

You don't silence your alarm right away. You don't want to drift off and be late for work, but maybe you also want to torture yourself just a bit.

You turn the alarm off on your way into the bathroom. You shower quickly. As quickly as possible. You've never showered that fast since you were limited to five minutes showers at summer camp. Thirteen year old you would have been jealous at how easy you made it look. You just didn't want to be in there any longer than you had to and you didn't even want to remind yourself why.

You drum your fingers along the counter while you wait for the coffee to brew. You use this time wisely. It's a great opportunity to further scrutinize your actions, and inactions, of the night previous. Also, to berate yourself. Yes, definitely a good chance to berate yourself. You're pretty good at that when you want to be. You should have gone after her. You should have dropped the drinks and not given a thought to your coat and you should have run after her.

You cock your head to side and click your tongue. You have no idea what you would have said. Sure, now, you have a million and one things you'd like to say to Gail zipping through your mind. But then, last night, you probably wouldn't have been able to muster anything beyond some mumbling and a few rapid blinks of your eyelids. Probably some slack jaw thrown in too.

You groan loudly at your own ineptitude and pour the brewed coffee into your traveler.

You suck.

You spend the drive to work confirming that, factually, you are an absolute fuck for not following Gail out of the Penny. Such a complete moron. They should take away your M.D.

You go across the street for lunch. Normally work was something you could throw yourself into, a never failing distraction. You could spend hours looking at bones and tissue and slides and forget about most anything bothering you in your personal life. Not today. Today, holed away in your lab, Gail's voice echoed in your head. 'I just see bones' and 'can you make go any faster?' and 'I hate people' and 'I just thought that was you' and 'what are you doing tonight?' and 'I want to get down' and 'thanks for doing this.'

So, you go across the street for lunch. You're carefully scrutinizing your sandwich to make sure they actually held the mayo when it washes over you. Even if you had gone after Gail last night and said all the perfect words there's no way she would have heard you. The bridge was drawn up and the mote was filled with water and flames. Nothing you said would have reached her, it wouldn't have done any good. She might have even flipped it on you, somehow finding the opposite of your meaning in your words. It wouldn't have been her fault, but it wouldn't have done any good.

You take a bite of your sandwich and instantly damn yourself to hell. You automatically ordered Gail's favorite without even realizing.

"We're not, no, we're not friends, nor have we ever been, we just tried to keep those secrets in our lives, and if they find out will it all go wrong?"
- 'Friends' Ed Sheeran

A/N: I know this wasn't a 'fix it' fic but I never claimed it was...I wanted it to fit in with canon as much as possible. I also wanted to give Holly's POV a shot for the first time and highlight the complexities of their current situation...I hope you didn't hate it.

And I owe you guys a FHO update! Life completely got in the way and it bums me out. But you will get another chapter of that before 505 airs at the latest. You guys are seriously the sweetest.