Archive of Our Own

“This is reckless, Jillian.”

She had said it before. More than once. She would likely say it again. It was what she always said. She sat at the edge of the bed, facing the wall, and Jillian watched her, the way that she always did. She watched the hair fall over her bare shoulder as she turned her head slightly, watched the way her spine moved beneath her skin, resisted the urge to reach out and touch her again.

She knew what was coming next. It was almost formulaic, the way it always happened. She knew that it was time for her to leave. She wondered what it might be like to stay, just once, to fall asleep in her bed, to wake up beside her.

“You shouldn’t stay much longer,” she said, almost as if she could read Jillian’s thoughts. Maybe she could.

“I know,” Jillian said, pushing herself up to a sitting position, the bedsheet falling to her waist. She instinctively pulled the sheet back up, covering her chest. It didn’t matter. It didn’t even matter that they’d both already seen each others’ bodies. She wasn’t even looking at her. Jillian looked at her, though. Her eyes followed the curve of her shoulder down her arm, to her hand resting atop the bed, to the silver wedding band on her finger.

She let the sheet fall again, getting out of the bed and locating the articles of her clothing across the hardwood floors. She pulled on her bra, her underwear, the ill-fitting jeans, the silky green camisole with the black lace at the top. Her boots were sitting beside the front door. The husband didn’t like dirt in the house. Jillian always left her boots just inside the front door. She picked up her jacket -- leather, too big, old and worn and soft, only nine dollars at the Salvation Army -- and slipped it on. She pulled her choppy, shoulder-length hair into a ponytail. She looked at her. She was still facing away from her.

“Dr. Gorin--”

“Jillian, how many times must I tell you?” she finally turned, locking eyes with her.

“Right. I’m sorry. Rebecca,” she corrected herself.

“I’ll see you in the lab tomorrow.”

It was a dismissal.

“Yes,” Jillian nodded. And she knew that it was no use staying any longer.

Dr. Rebecca Gorin was the only female professor in a science department dominated by men. Jillian understood why she had found herself drawn to her. She respected her. She admired her. She was fiercely intimidated by her.

Jillian was one of a handful of female students in a science department dominated by men. She saw nothing special about herself in comparison to her peers. She was young, sometimes a little bit too eager, too loud when she was excited about something, too quiet every other time, unable to find a common interest other than science with anybody in her classes, friendless. Alone. Nobody.

Nearly every student and professor in the science department respected and admired Dr. Gorin. For the life of her, Jillian could not figure out why she was the one that Dr. Gorin had been drawn to. She was nobody. And Dr. Gorin… she was everything. Everything that Jillian wanted to be. Everything that Jillian wanted.

This is reckless, Jillian.

The words rang in her head. She smiled.

She quite enjoyed being reckless.

*

Holtzmann hums to herself as she works. She finds it relaxing. Often times, the humming turns into singing, and the singing makes her dance, and there’s sometimes a small fire as a result. She thinks it’s funny, especially when she elicits a reaction from Erin. Sometimes she does it specifically to get Erin to react. She doesn’t know if Erin has realized this yet or not.

She’s alone now, though, and she’s humming to herself because without the humming, it’s far too quiet. She doesn’t know how late it is, but she knows that Abby left somewhere between two and seven hours ago, and it was between five and nine o’clock when she left.

“Don’t stay here all night!” Abby had told her.

“Okaaay,” she had responded. She’s on the cusp of something, though. Her latest project is coming together. Her newest baby is nearly ready to be born.

She just. Needs…. Something.

“If this is the… then that is… yes… but...then that should...but...or maybe…,” she mumbles to herself, deep in concentration, letting the silence fill the room.

She hears a soft pounding noise from downstairs. It breaks her concentration. Her head snaps up, eyes darting around the room, knowing that the source of the noise isn’t there, but needing to look around anyways.

She hears it again. She glances at her watch. Fifteen minutes past eleven.

It happens again.

It is clearly somebody knocking on the door.

She sets down the tools in her hands and moves around the table. The stairs are closer to where she’s standing, but the fire pole is far more fun. She slides down to the first floor as the person at the door knocks again.

It’s probably somebody with a ghost in their home who panicked and came straight to the firehouse rather than calling or waiting until normal business hours. Or, maybe they did call. Had the phone rung at all? Holtzmann can’t remember.

But when she opens the door, she freezes.

“It’s about time. You’re not very easy to track down, you know that, Jillian?”

She doesn’t say anything. Holtzmann has very rarely been speechless, but it’s the only word she can think of to describe herself at the moment.

“I saw what you did. It was very impressive.”

She can’t stop staring. It’s the only thing that she can do.

“Well,” Dr. Rebecca Gorin says after a lengthy stretch of silence. “Are you going to invite me in, or what?”

*

Erin watches absentmindedly as Holtzmann talks animatedly, her hands moving rapidly, her eyes and smile both manic, and Dr. Gorin -- Rebecca, as she insisted they all call her -- listens and laughs. It’s been two days since Erin met Rebecca, just walking around Holtzmann’s lab like it was her own. It’s been two days, and she’s barely seen Holtzmann on her own since.

In fact, Holtzmann has barely said more than a few sentences to her ever since Rebecca showed up. Where did she even come from? One day she wasn’t there, Erin had never even heard of her, didn’t even know that she existed. And the next day, there she was. And now it’s been two days and Erin thinks that Dr. Rebecca Gorin has overstayed her welcome.

She’s found herself absentmindedly watching Holtzmann as she works in her lab many times before. She enjoys it. It’s like watching a wild animal in its natural habitat. Today, though, she’s finding herself mildly annoyed.

She hears Rebecca laugh again and say something, and then calls Holtzmann by her first name. Erin can’t help but roll her eyes.

“Ooh, Jillian,” she mimics under her breath. “Jillian, let me just walk around like I own the place, like I belong here, Jillian. I’m so old and entitled and stupid...”

She frowns, glancing up at the two again.

“She’s not stupid,” she says to herself. “She’s actually probably really smart… and looks really good for her age.”

“What was that?”

“Huh? What? What?” Erin says, looking up to find Patty watching her, a book in her hands, eyebrows raised.

“You say something?”

“What? No. No. Nothing. Said nothing. Did I? I… nope,” she smiles, laughing, and Patty gives her a quizzical stare before shaking her head and turning back to her book.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Erin says directly to Patty. “How Holtz’s mentor just shows up one day and like… doesn’t ever go away?”

“Is it?” Patty asks, folding down the corner of the page in her book and closing it, turning to Erin. “I’ve kind of stopped thinking that anything to do with Holtzy is weird. It would be weird if Holtzy wasn’t weird.”

“I think it’s weird.”

“Okay,” Patty shrugs. “She’s only been here for two days. They haven’t seen each other in a few years.”

“It’s weird that she calls her Jillian, though, isn’t it?” Erin laughs, trying to sound casual, trying to understand why she is so annoyed by this woman’s presence.

“It’s weird to hear Holtzy being called Jillian, sure, but it’s not that weird that she calls her that. Maybe she knew her before she started going by her last name.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“What’s goin’ on with you?” Patty asks her.

“What? Nothing! Nothing is going on with me!” Erin shakes her head, smiling, but Patty looks unconvinced. “It’s just like… you know… it’s weird. Having a stranger here. An… older… stranger.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Like a chaperone,” she laughs.

“Rebecca’s cool. Maybe you should try to get to know her.”

Erin scoffs at the idea, and just at that moment, there’s a loud cackle from Holtzmann, and Erin glances over to see her putting out a fire while Rebecca stands beside her, shaking her head with her eyes closed. She can’t help but laugh. Holtzmann’s gleeful expression combined with Rebecca’s exasperation, as though she’s far too used to these antics… Erin hates to admit that it’s actually kind of funny.

She catches Holtzmann’s eye. Holtzmann grins, sends a wink in her direction, and swings the hose of the fire extinguisher around, dancing backwards with it.

Erin laughs. Patty sighs beside her.

“Honestly,” she mumbles. Erin looks at her.

“What?”

“You scientists are so smart, but…. Actually, you know? Nevermind,” she smiles, returning to her book once more.

*

Nobody was around, which was rare towards the end of the semester when everybody was scrambling to finish final projects and understand everything that they needed to know for exams. But then again, it was also nearly midnight and the janitors had already come through twice, and Jillian would have been kicked out if she hadn’t been there with a professor.

She couldn’t remember the last time that she slept for more than an hour or two at a time. She was running on naps, black coffee, and potato chips.

“Hey,” Jillian laughed, picking up a small piece of metal shaped like the letter ‘U’. Dr. Gorin looked at her. Jillian held up the piece of metal and then grabbed a screw, holding it against it, and then she began to giggle uncontrollably. Dr. Gorin pushed her safety goggles to the top of her head, looking at her student, a smile playing at her lips, but confusion etched across her face.

“What…?” Dr. Gorin laughed, but Jillian was laughing too hard to speak. Finally, she was able to gasp out two words.

“Screw you,” she managed before dissolving into her fit of giggles again. It only took a moment for Dr. Gorin to understand, and then her laugh rang throughout the empty lab.

It wasn’t even that funny. But it was late and they couldn’t stop laughing.

God, she enjoyed making her laugh like that. She was flattered when Dr. Gorin told her that she was smart and that she was one of her most promising students, and yet, those compliments were nothing compared to the way Jillian felt when she was able to make Dr. Gorin laugh. It was a side of her that she had never seen until they began to spend time together. It felt sacred. It felt like for a brief moment, Dr. Gorin was hers. Only hers.

They stayed in the lab for another hour, leaving only after they had made each other matching “screw you” pendants. Jillian knew that she would likely never see Dr. Gorin wearing hers in any way, but it didn’t matter.

She bought a plain silver chain the next day from a pawn shop downtown, securing the metal pendant around her neck.

Dr. Gorin had hers pinned to her jacket.

It was reckless. It was too obvious. And yet, neither one of them seemed to care.

*

“I suppose I should mention that I’m divorced now.”

Holtzmann laughs. She can’t help herself. Rebecca hardly seems surprised.

“You’re laughing,” she simply states.

“I mean, you see why it’s funny, right?”

“You haven’t changed,” Rebecca sighs, although the corners of her lips turn up into the smallest of smiles. “Well, that’s not entirely true. You’re more self-assured than you used to be. The confidence looks good on you.”

They’re in the firehouse, upstairs in Holtzmann’s lab, alone, although Patty’s laugh carries itself up to the second floor, followed by the sound of Abby yelling Kevin’s name. They had been eating together. Rebecca had paid for take-out -- “the least she could do” after having been a constant around the place for several days. But inspiration had struck Holtzmann, and she sat there, chopsticks dangling from her fingers, staring into space until Erin nudged her, laughing.

“Go figure it out,” she’d said. Holtzmann didn’t hesitate before bounding up the stairs. It only took about ten minutes before Rebecca appeared beside her.

“Anyways,” Rebecca continues. “The divorce was finalized last year. Single at sixty-six. I’m not sure if it’s something to be proud of, but….”

“Congratulations,” Holtzmann says.

“I thought you should know.”

She stands close to her. Holtzmann has abandoned her project and is, instead, staring at Rebecca, elbow on the table, chin propped in her hand, squinting slightly behind her yellow lenses.

“I noticed that your ring was gone,” she says matter-of-factly with a raise of her eyebrows. “I guessed that maybe he was dead.”

“Are you disappointed that he’s not?”

“Nah,” she shakes her head.

“I should have left him sooner.”

“I can’t say I told you so,” Holtzmann grins. “Well, technically, I could. But I won’t.”

She stands even closer still. They’re touching. Holtzmann looks away. And then she moves. She stands up, creating distance between herself and Rebecca. Rebecca stays still. They stand. Silent.

“You know, when I first saw you on television, I was disappointed,” Rebecca says. “I thought to myself… there she is! Jillian. Bright, smart, promising Jillian. My protégé, so to speak. I assumed that by now, you’d be...working for NASA. But instead, you were on my television, being painted as a fraud ghost hunter. Can you even imagine my disappointment?”

“Aw, shucks, that’s sweet!” Holtzmann responds enthusiastically. Rebecca lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head.

“I was wrong to be disappointed. I know that now. I’ve always wanted only the best for you.”

And she moves closer to her yet again. Holtzmann doesn’t move. She stays still until Rebecca is right in front of her and she looks at her, meeting her eyes.

“You still wear it,” she says, running a finger over the pendant around Holtzmann’s neck.

“So do you,” she responds.

“It reminds me of you.”

“I just like how it looks,” Holtzmann tells her. She’s telling the truth. She had gone without wearing it for years before finding it again and deciding to wear it once more, regardless of the old feelings that it sometimes brought up. She can tell that Rebecca doesn’t believe her.

“And I see you finally figured out what to do with this hair of yours,” she smiles, bringing a hand up, fingers running gently through the front section of Holtzmann’s hair. “I must admit, I did find the plain ponytail endearing, but this looks good, too.”

“Dr. Gorin,” Holtzmann mumbles, stuck, and hating the way that her heart begins to race when Rebecca places her fingers on her cheek. It’s like she’s twenty-two years old again.

“Jillian, how many times must I tell you?” she smiles.

“Dr. Gorin,” Holtzmann says again, slightly louder, more forcefully, and she turns her head, pulling her face away from Rebecca’s hand, taking a step backwards, away from her. Rebecca drops her hand to her side.

“You resist me,” she states. “You never used to. And here I was, thinking that I had been aging gracefully.”

“You have,” Holtzmann insists, speaking quickly, not looking directly at her. “You are, you… you’re beautiful. Still. Always. It’s not that.”

“There’s someone else.”

Holtzmann shakes her head.

“Which one is it?” Rebecca asks.

“What?”

“Surely, it’s not that dopey receptionist of yours. He doesn’t seem quite your type. A little too… male,” she says. It’s a feeble attempt at a joke, but it’s enough to make Holtzmann let out a soft chuckle.

“So, which one is it?” she asks again.

“It’s not… There is no one.”

“I’m not blind, Jillian. I see how you look at her. I used to catch you looking at me the same way.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She doesn’t even know, does she?”

“She’s -- I mean,” Holtzmann laughs nervously, shaking her head, blowing air from her lips, just trying to fill the silence with anything other than words.

“It’s reckless, you know, getting involved with a colleague,” Rebecca warns.

“More reckless than getting involved with a student?”

“You’re not my student anymore.”

Holtzmann kisses her. She doesn’t know why. She wanted to avoid this. But Rebecca was right when she said that she’d never been able to resist her. She kisses her, and she’s twenty-two again, kissing her for the first time in her office, hardly daring to believe that it’s real.

She’s twenty-two, a friendless nobody, kissing the woman that she so badly wants to become. Kissing the woman that she so badly wants. And it’s the only thing that makes sense.

*

Erin can’t move.

She’s also having a difficult time breathing, but more importantly, she can’t move. She’s rooted to the spot, her feet and legs deliberately disobeying the commands from her brain to just please move. She’s lost feeling in most of her body except for the too-heavy thumping of her heartbeat that echoes in her head and reverberates in her throat. She can’t tear her eyes away from the sight in front of her and she knows that she needs to move, that she needs to turn around and walk out and pretend that she was never there. But she can’t. She can’t move.

So, she stands there, unmoving, a book in her hands, one finger between the pages, holding a spot that said something interesting that reminded her of Holtzmann, that she thought Holtzmann might like, that she wanted to show Holtzmann. That’s why she’s here. She came upstairs to find her, to show her the page in the book. She can’t even remember what the book said. She can’t even remember what the book is about.

Jillian Holtzmann and Rebecca Gorin are entwined, Rebecca pressed against a table, her blouse torn open, and Holtzmann’s face buried in her neck. Rebecca has a hand in Holtzmann’s hair -- and her hair. It’s come nearly completely untied, strands falling down between her shoulderblades, and Erin has a flash of realization that she’s never seen Holtzmann with her hair down before. Rebecca’s other arm is wrapped around Holtzmann, holding her close.

And Holtzmann. One hand grips at Rebecca’s hip while the other disappears between their bodies. Her shirt. That green crop top. The one that she was wearing the day that Erin first met her. Erin always notices when she wears it. Goodwill. One dollar. Holtzmann had told her that once. She always notices and she always remembers. That green crop top is pushed up, over her breasts to reveal a plain black bra, the fabric in sharp contrast with her pale skin. Her skin. The expanse of skin from her bra to the high-waisted pants, unbuttoned, pushed down ever so slightly. The muscles in her back move, her arm moves rhythmically, they both move, a gentle back-and-forth.

There is something burning inside of her. It’s making her entire body feel too hot.

They don’t see her. She could easily leave and they would never ever know.

Rebecca slides a hand down to grab at Holtzmann’s butt, and Holtzmann brings her face up as Rebecca tilts hers down, and then Erin is watching them kiss, and she wants them to stop. She could stop looking at them, she could if she would just turn around, but she can’t. And she wants them to stop.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been standing there, frozen, unable to move. It could be two seconds, it could be two hours. They’ve stopped kissing. Holtzmann’s mouth has trailed back down Rebecca’s neck. Erin chances a momentary glance downwards where Holtzmann’s hand disappears past Rebecca’s pants, and when she looks up, she is locking eyes with Dr. Rebecca Gorin.

Her breath stops completely, and the heat running through her body is suddenly replaced with an icy chill. She wants to run. But it’s too late.

Rebecca maintains eye contact with her even as she grasps at Holtzmann’s hair, allowing her to carry on. Her stare is cold and indifferent. Taunting. Daring Erin to do something -- anything. But she does nothing.

Finally, Erin watches as Rebecca’s lips move, though she never break eye contact. Her lips move, but Erin doesn’t hear what she says. But Holtzmann’s movements stop. They stop. She turns her head. Erin meets her eyes.

Several seconds pass and Erin watches Holtzmann’s face, her frozen expression of shock slowly turning to something like horror, all of the colour draining away and then coming back in splotches of pink. She tears herself away from Rebecca, looking wildly around the room, her chest moving rapidly, and then she runs. She pulls her pants up, tugs her shirt down, and runs, not even looking at Erin as she brushes past her. But Erin looks at her, her pink face and her messy blonde hair falling onto her shoulders, and her eyes -- shining and wet.

“Holtz,” she manages to get out, but she’s gone.

She’s never seen Holtzmann with her hair down. She’s never seen Holtzmann be anything less than confident. She’s never seen Holtzmann embarrassed. She’s never seen Holtzmann run from a situation. She’s never seen Holtzmann cry.

“Holtz,” she says again, turning, ready to leave, but then Rebecca’s voice calls out to her.

“I wouldn’t bother going after her,” she says coolly, and Erin turns to look at her again. She’s leaning against the table, doing up the buttons of her blouse slowly, casually, as if nothing has just happened. The fire inside of Erin’s body roars to life again, and in that moment, she swears that she’s never disliked anybody as much as she dislikes Dr. Rebecca Gorin.

“What? You’re just gonna--? She’s…,” she trails off, gesturing wildly. Rebecca pushes herself from the table, strolling towards Erin.

“Jillian has always worked things out best on her own,” she says.

Erin doesn’t know what to say. Her mouth moves, small noises come out, but no words are formed. She watches as Rebecca’s eyes scan over her, looking her up and down, and Erin fidgets but doesn’t move.

“She likes you,” Rebecca says, looking into her eyes once more. “Don’t let her hurt herself.”

“What?” is the only word that she can think of to say.

“She likes you,” Rebecca repeats, her words slower this time. “Don’t let her hurt herself.”

“Hurt herself?” Erin asks, having a difficult time understanding the entirety of what Rebecca has said, but settling on the part that makes the least amount of sense to her.

“Jillian’s a smart girl,” Rebecca says.

“She’s brilliant,” Erin interjects, and Rebecca smiles.

“I see that I don’t need to tell you,” she laughs.

“No. You don’t. I know how smart she is.”

“She’s smart. Brilliant, even,” Rebecca nods. “But she’s reckless, too. She doesn’t always look at the big picture… or at...certain consequences of certain actions.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“She likes you,” she says once again. “I don’t really know why, but she does. But you’re not interested. That much is obvious. It doesn’t take a genius to see it. Jillian is a genius, and she’s refusing to see it. It’s not really your fault. From what I can tell, you haven’t led her on… or really, given any hints that you might return the feelings. So, it’s not your fault if she ends up hurting. She’s hurting herself.”

Erin’s mouth is dry. She opens it to say something, but nothing comes out. Rebecca continues.

“If you don’t set her free, then she’s going to hang on forever. That’s what she does. It won’t matter how awful you are to her or how little you give her. She won’t move on until you make it very clear to her that she needs to,” she pauses, staring straight at Erin who has barely moved a muscle. “Jillian deserves to find somebody who is as invested in her as she is in them. I couldn’t give that to her, and I don’t think that you can, either, Dr. Gilbert.”

“How long did you keep her hanging on?” Erin asks, finally finding some sort of courage, and for some reason needing to know the answer.

“Longer than I care to admit.”

“What, like,” Erin laughs nervously. “A couple months? A year?”

“Dr. Gilbert,” Rebecca smiles condescendingly, and Erin’s blood boils. “My affair with Jillian lasted for five years.”

“Five--” she gasps out. She doesn’t want Rebecca to see her surprise, but she can’t contain it. She collects herself, standing up straight, squaring her shoulders and looking at Rebecca.

“Why did you come here?” she asks. “Why did you come looking for her? And why haven’t you left yet?”

“I’m afraid that the answers to those questions are ones that I’ve been searching for myself,” Rebecca admits. “I’ve yet to find them.”

“Get out,” Erin tells her, and she hates that her voice shakes. “You’re… you are not a nice person and I want you to get out.”

“Do the right thing, Dr. Gilbert,” Rebecca says, beginning to walk towards the staircase. “Set her free.”

And then she leaves. She leaves, and Erin stands there, clever quips and insults running through her brain, too late to use them.

“You’re old!” she shouts out into the empty room. “You’re old and you’re a…. You’re a…”

She looks around, making sure that nobody can hear her.

“A bitch,” she whispers, instinctively covering her mouth with her hand.

“Bitch,” she says slightly louder. “You’re a bitch! Oh. No. I really shouldn’t use that word, it’s so derogatory.”

She shakes her head and goes downstairs. Holtzmann is gone. Rebecca is gone. Everybody is gone. She’s left alone in the firehouse. And she has far too much to think about.

*

“Let’s go somewhere.”

“Okay. Where do you wanna go?”

“Have you ever been anywhere in Europe?”

“I was thinking that you meant like, to the Chinese place to get some lo mein or something.”

“Oh, maybe China. I’ve never been to China.”

Jillian laughed, pulling her knees up to her chest, watching Dr. Gorin from the bed. Dr. Gorin walked around the bedroom, a silky robe tied loosely around her body. She paused in front of her mirror, turning and peering into it.

“I can say that I’m going to a conference. He’ll never know.”

“Okay,” Jillian agreed easily.

“My birthday is next month.”

“I know.”

“I’ll be sixty years old,” Dr. Gorin said, and then she laughed. “Sixty!”

“But you don’t look a day over fifty-eight,” Jillian teased. Dr. Gorin glared at her.

“It never does seem to bother you that I’m more than twice your age.”

“That’s because it doesn’t,” Jillian told her with a shrug. “I’ll come visit you in the nursing home, it’s fine.”

“You stop that,” Dr. Gorin said, pointing an accusing finger at her, glaring but smiling at the same time.

Jillian stretched out her legs, falling back down onto the pillows beneath her, clasping her hands beneath her head as she looked up at the ceiling, watching the blades of the ceiling fan as they spun around, focusing on just one blade, trying to follow it, but inevitably losing it in the blur.

“I’ve always wanted to go to South Africa,” she said with a smile.

“South Africa?” Dr. Gorin repeated.

“I have a thing for rhinoceroses,” she said. “And South Africa has one of the largest rhinoceros populations.”

“You can see rhinoceroses in a zoo.”

“It’s not the same,” Jillian shook her head. “Everything is always better in its natural habitat.”

“South Africa, huh?” Dr. Gorin said and she crawled back into the bed beside Jillian.

“Yeah. South Africa.”

“I’ll have to look into that.”

“You do that, old lady.”

“That really isn’t funny, Jillian.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

*

“Okay, guys!” Abby calls out. “We got a call this morning. Where’s Erin?”

“Somewhere other than here,” Holtmann says.

“Okay, well, whatever. There’s a building by NYU, they described what sounds like a class two, maybe three operation, but I don’t think we’ll know for sure until we get down there. They’re trying to renovate the library on the eighth floor, but things keep flying around and they did say that it sounds like a lot of women screaming.”

“Down by NYU? Eighth floor?” Patty asks, raising her eyebrows. “Let me take a wild guess… The Brown Building?”

“Um,” Abby mumbles, looking at her notes. “Yeah. Brown Building.”

“Man, when are these people gonna learn to stop doin’ shit to buildings where a bunch of people died?!”

“Hey! I’m here! I’m sorry, I--” Erin runs in, throwing her stuff down on top of the table that the other three are seated around. She glances at Holtzmann, quickly, and then away just as fast. Holtzmann’s gaze lingers on her, though. Only for a moment. Just long enough to watch her sit down and then grab Abby’s notes from her to look them over.

It’s a good thing that there are ghosts to hunt. Holtzmann thinks that Erin might feel weird about what happened the night before. It’s a good thing that they will be too busy to think about it.

“What happened in the Brown Building, Patty?” Holtzmann asks.

“The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire,” she says simply. Holtzmann waits for her to continue, but she doesn’t. Instead, she looks around at the three, and Holtzmann follows, seeing that Abby and Erin both have blank expressions as well.

“Seriously?!” Patty exclaims. “Y’all don’t know about that?! That’s a huge part of New York history right there!”

“This is why you complete us, Patty-cake,” Holtzmann grins at her. Patty sighs and shakes her head, but then continues.

“Okay, so get this: in the early 1900’s, like, 1911… there’s basically a sweatshop in this building. These people are sewing for hardly any money. Mostly Jewish and Italian immigrants. And the people that are running the company, they lock the doors during business hours. They lock the doors, they lock the stairwells, they just lock these people in so they can’t leave or steal or whatever. So there’s a fire and they’re locked in, and they’re on the top few floors of this ten-story building and there’s only one shitty fire escape. It’s chaos. People are jumping, trying to get out somehow, but… man. Almost a hundred and fifty people died. Most of them women. Most of them mad young, too.”

“My gosh,” Erin whispers. “That’s horrible.”

Yeah,” Patty nods. “I think we’d better be prepared for some real pissed off lady-ghosts.”

“Ah, my favourite kind,” Holtzmann quips, sending a cheeky wink in Erin’s direction. Erin doesn’t react like she usually does. In fact, she doesn’t react at all. She doesn’t even acknowledge her. She simply turns her head away. Holtzmann feels her smile falter, but she doesn’t let it fade completely. Instead of letting herself feel anything, she hops to her feet.

“The timing is perfect, I just finished up with some really exciting new things with Rebecca’s help last night,” she says. She wonders if she imagines Erin’s wince at the mention of Rebecca’s name.

“Oh, is she coming? Abby asks. “She’s been here for like a week and hasn’t seen us catch an actual ghost yet!”

“No,” Holtzmann answers quickly. Probably too quickly. “She won’t be here.”

And with that, she turns towards the stairs, bolting up to her lab. She hears the other three scuffling around, getting ready to do the job. She stops at the edge of her table, tools and equipment pushed further back from the edge than usual.

She closes her eyes. Images from the night before flash through her mind. She’s been trying so hard to just not think about it. To push it away. To forget it and move on.

So, she had given in and kissed Rebecca, even though she had promised herself years ago that she would never let it happen again. It was a momentary lapse of judgment. It happened and there is no way to change it, so she has to accept it.

But that isn’t the part that’s troubling her the most.

Erin had seen. At some point, Erin came in, and she saw her with Rebecca.

When she was younger, when she was still in school, when she was convinced that she was in love with Dr. Rebecca Gorin, she didn’t care what anybody thought. When she was out with Rebecca, she wanted people to know that they were together. She never once cared that Rebecca was thirty-four years older than her. All she cared about was that her girlfriend was beautiful and brilliant and hers. She never really had been hers, of course, but that didn’t matter much to her either.

But it’s different now. She’s different now. And Erin shouldn’t have seen it because it shouldn’t have even been happening.

And she knows that Erin likely thinks differently of her now. How could she not? And she doesn’t want Erin to think differently of her. She doesn’t want Erin to avoid eye contact, to be unable to even look at her. She had fooled herself into thinking that if she just came back today and acted the same as she always did, like nothing had happened, then it would be as if nothing had happened.

But she was wrong.

She sighs, opening her eyes. It’s time to go.

*

Erin is blissfully distracted. Very rarely is she ever distracted from the constant stream of thoughts and worries that loop endlessly through her mind all day long. She’s a fan of making lists. Lists help her to organize her thoughts and to stay on track. But there’s also a never-ending list in her head of every worst-case scenario, every negative feeling, every negative interaction with a person, every moment where she did or said something wrong, every mean thing that has ever been said to her…. It’s all on a mental list that is always present. Always. Except for now. Except for when she’s in the middle of the job and there’s too much happening to think of anything other than what she’s doing.

She used to think that she wasn’t good in a fight.

Now she’s beginning to think that it might be the only thing she’s good at. At least, it’s the only thing that makes her feel like she’s not a walking mistake.

If only she had just turned around and walked away….

She shakes her head. She’s not supposed to be thinking about that.

Then what? What would have happened? Holtzmann and Rebecca would have had sex right there in the lab and then they would be together and Rebecca would never leave them alone?

And, so what? Holtzmann can have a girlfriend if she wants. Maybe she thinks that Holtzmann could choose somebody younger, somebody less entitled and annoying. But it doesn’t really matter. Erin doesn’t care.

She doesn’t care about what she saw.

“Erin!”

Abby pushes her out of the way just as a ghost is coming directly at her, and Abby blasts it away with one of Holtzmann’s inventions.

She had become distracted from her only distraction.

“Crap!” she scolds herself.

She focuses on the job. She focuses on the ghosts in front of her and the weapons in her hands.

The translucent image of a young girl -- around sixteen or seventeen, probably -- stands directly in front of Erin. She wears a long skirt and a long apron. Half of her face is perfectly normal, but the other half is shriveled and burnt. She doesn’t immediately advance on Erin, and Erin doesn’t immediately aim her weapon at her. She almost feels sorry for her. She looks sad. And Erin feels sad.

“You didn’t deserve what happened to you. But you can’t stay here,” she says to the ghost. And then, just like that, the ghost is gone with a bang and a poof of smoke, and Erin swings her head to see Holtzmann standing a few feet away, arms up in victory, clearly having just gotten rid of the ghost.

Part of Erin knows that it’s irrational to be angry at Holtzmann doing her job, and yet, that wasn’t how she wanted it to happen. That wasn’t how it should have happened.

It’s a blur. It almost always is. The adrenaline and the fast pace, it always makes a ghost removal operation go by in a blur. This time is no different. They finish the job. It’s a success.

Erin does her best to not so much as glance in Holtzmann’s direction. She stares out the window on the ride back to the firehouse, the music pumping and the other three shouting, singing, and dancing in their seats. She stares out the window, so she doesn’t notice that Holtzmann keeps checking the rearview mirror, looking at her. She stares out the window, and when they make it back to headquarters, she moves without speaking, helping to unload the car.

“Hey.”

Erin doesn’t answer.

“Are you okay?”

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” she says, looking at Holtzmann. Holtzmann has a bag of equipment strapped over her shoulder and she stands there, slightly lopsided, the weight of the bag pulling her down. She cocks her head. Erin looks past her, seeing Abby and Patty laughing to each other, not paying attention to them.

“Dowhat,” Holtzmann drawls, connecting the two words into one. Erin squints slightly, peering at Holtzmann, searching her, trying to understand something. How is she acting completely normal? When she saw her last night, she was in tears, and now it’s like that never even happened.

“I was handling the situation just fine. You didn’t have to…,” Erin says. Holtzmann cocks her head even further until it’s practically against her own shoulder. And then she straightens back up.

“Are you talking about the ghost?”

“Yes! The ghost! You didn’t have to just kill her like that!”

“The thing about ghosts is that they’re already dead. I figured you knew that, considering your job as a--”

“You know what I mean,” Erin snaps. Holtzmann blinks a few times behind her yellow lenses.

“You’re mad at me,” Holtzmann says. She’s not asking. It’s a statement. Erin doesn’t immediately dismiss it. She knows that she’s being ridiculous. But all of her feelings are jumbled and confused, and anger is the only thing she is able to grasp onto.

“You just--! You’re so--!” she stutters out, trying to find some string of coherent words. Holtzmann just stares at her, almost as if she’s patiently waiting, her eyebrows knitted together. Erin loses her words, but she holds her hands out in front of her and they shake slightly, and she’s lost. She doesn’t really know why she’s angry. So she doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry,” Holtzmann says. And it’s sincere. And her sincerity angers Erin even more. She offers Erin a smile, but it irritates her.

Who does she think she is, smiling at her like that? Who does she think she is, dancing and winking and making comments, and then just ignoring her the minute that woman shows up? Who does she think she is, practically allowing Erin to see her in a moment of passion, with her hair and her skin, and with that woman, and Erin can’t get the image out of her mind, and the hair and the skin, it won’t go away. And who does she think she is, running away like that, leaving her there alone with that woman and letting her say those things, letting her tell her things that will not leave her alone now? Who does she think she is, doing all of that, and then standing here now, smiling at her like that?

“Holtz, you just… you,” she grumbles.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, and what is she even apologizing for? Erin lets out a guttural yell of frustration, shaking her head wildly. Rebecca’s words from the previous night ring out in her mind.

“You’re just so reckless!” she yells.

The smile slides from Holtzmann’s face. Erin regrets saying it as soon as it’s out of her mouth. She doesn’t know why. But the way the Holtzmann looks at her makes her regret it. There’s a moment where they simply stand there and a million thoughts are flying through Erin’s mind, but they’re all shouting over one another, and it’s just noise. The moment passes. Holtzmann smiles again, but it’s different. It’s forced. Fake.

And then she turns and walks away from Erin without another word. Erin watches her go, watches her breeze past Abby and Patty who look at her, and then they look at Erin, and then they look at Holtzmann again, and Erin looks down at the ground.

“Something weird is going on,” Erin hears Patty say later to Abby once they’re back in the firehouse. Usually after a successful job, there’s some sort of celebration, even if it’s just a pizza and some beers from the corner bodega.. But Holtzmann is nowhere to be seen and Erin can’t stop staring directly at the wall.

“Right? I’m totally not imagining it then!” Abby agrees.

“Whatever. I’m hungry. Let’s order something. I’m gonna go upstairs and see what Holtzy wants,” Patty says, and Erin listens to the sound of a chair moving against the floor, and then Patty’s footsteps up the stairs.

“Erin, honey, are you okay?”

Abby sits down beside her.

“What? Yeah. Fine. I’m fine,” she assures her with a smile that she knows looks as fake as it feels. Abby doesn’t look convinced, and opens her mouth to say something, but before she can, Patty is coming downstairs again.

“Yo, Holtzy isn’t up there!” she announces.

“She’s not?” Abby frowns. “But she came in. I saw her come in. Did she leave? I didn’t see her leave.”

“I dunno. But she’s not upstairs, and that’s where she always is,” Patty says. Abby looks at Erin. Patty looks at Erin, too.

“What did you say to her?” Abby asks gently.

“What?”

“To Holtzmann. Did you say something to her? She was fine, and then you guys were talking outside, and…?”

“And now Holtzy’s gone missing and you keep staring at this wall,” Patty finishes. “Something’s up.”

“Nothing is up,” Erin lies. But she’s always been a terrible liar. And Abby has always known that she’s been a terrible liar. She’s not fooling her.

“Okay, fine,” she gives in. “Something happened. But! I can’t tell you!”

“Aw, man, no, you can’t do that!” Patty says. “You can’t say something happened and then say you can’t say what happened! That’s not cool!”

“Patty’s right,” Abby agrees.

It’s two against one. Erin knows that she should just keep her mouth shut because it really isn’t her information to be sharing, but she’s never been good with peer pressure, and they’re both looking at her expectantly and she can’t stay silent.

“I walked in on Holtz and Dr. Gorin last night,” she blurts out. Abby and Patty continue to look at her as if waiting for her to continue. When they seem to realize that that’s all she’s going to say, they glance at each other and then back at her.

“Okay…,” Abby says slowly. “You walked in on them, and…?”

“And!” Erin exclaims, not wanting to say the words, thinking that they would just understand from what she said. “And! They were… together.”

Blank faces.

“Together, together.”

“Oh, damn,” Patty’s eyes widen, finally understanding.

“Oh,” Abby says. “Oh. Ohhhh. Oh!”

Abby turns her head quickly to look directly at Patty.

“Oh!” she says again.

“Oh!” Patty joins in.

Erin stares at them.

“Oh. Oh. Oh. My god. It’s happening, isn’t it?” Abby suddenly grins.

“I think it might be!”

“What?!” Erin yells. “What’s happening?! What are you guys talking about?!”

Abby simply giggles and waves her hands in front of her face excitedly, and Erin is so lost.

“What is going on?” Erin demands.

“Don’t you worry about it, baby,” Patty smiles. “You’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“I don’t like this,” Erin says. “I don’t know what you guys are talking about! And we still don’t know where Holtz is!”

“I think you need to be the one to find her,” Abby tells her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah, but if I don’t know where she is, then how am I going to--” she stops.

She knows where to find her.

*

“You should leave him.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your husband. You should leave him.”

“Now’s not the time for this, Jillian.”

“When is the right time?” she asked. “Give me a time. I’ll set an alarm. I’ll need to make some sort of alarm system first, but that shouldn’t be a problem”

“Jillian,” Dr. Gorin said in a hushed voice, standing up from her desk and striding over to her office door, locking it and pulling the blinds down. “If you really want to have this discussion, we can do it elsewhere at another time. Not here. Not now.”

“I’m not saying that you should leave him for me. If you left him and then you were with me, okay, great. But that’s not why you should do it. You should leave him because he doesn’t make you happy. If you’re going to be married, you should be happy. And if you were happy in your marriage, then you wouldn’t be with me.”

“There’s no such thing as a happy marriage.”

“Bullshit.”

“There’s a lot that you don’t yet know about life, Jillian. You’re too young to understand.”

“Once again: bullshit.”

“Jillian.”

“Becca.”

“You knew what you were getting into when we started this. You knew from the very beginning that I was married.”

“We started this five years ago,” Jillian reminded her. “This isn’t just a fling with one of your students anymore. This is something real!”

“I’m thirty-four years older than you.”

“I don’t care! I keep telling you that I don’t care! Why won’t you understand that I don’t care?”

“I care! I care, Jillian. How do you think I would look if I left my husband for a twenty-seven year old female student?”

“So we’ll go somewhere else. Where nobody knows us,” Jillian said, but Dr. Gorin scoffed.

“When we’re out together, people think that you’re my daughter. Did you know that? That diner that we were at last week, when you went to the restroom, the waitress asked me if my daughter would like another cup of coffee. Do you know how that makes me feel?”

“So what? What other people think doesn’t matter.”

“I wish I could see it that way. But I just can’t.”

“You’re happy when you’re with me, aren’t you?”

“You know that I am. But you can’t always just do what makes you happy.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s not how life works, Jillian!”

“Fuck that. Really. Fuck that. Fuck the idea that you can’t do what makes you happy. Fuck the notion that you have to be unhappy in order to fulfill some sort of bullshit social expectation! Becca, I love you!”

“You shouldn’t.”

“But I do,” she said, and she could hear the desperation in her own voice.

“Some day, Jillian, you’re going to meet a girl closer to your own age, and you’ll find out what loving somebody is supposed to be like. It’s not this. You’re not supposed to fall in love with your married professor.”

“Okay, fine,” Jillian said. “I don’t care that you’re married. Stay married. I don’t care. I can handle that.”

“My sweet Jillian,” Dr. Gorin sighed, standing directly in front of her, placing a gentle hand on her cheek. “You see what you’ve done now, don’t you?”

“No,” she shook her head.

“We can’t go on like this anymore. You’ve made it clear.”

“No. No!” Jillian argued, taking a step back from her.

“I can’t leave my husband for you. But this isn’t enough for you anymore.”

“Yes, it is! It’s enough! It’s fine!” she insisted, but Dr. Gorin shook her head.

“I’m not enough for you.”

“Yes, you are! I’m sorry, okay? Forget I said anything. Forget I said it. Everything is fine.”

She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, but she really didn’t want to cry. She really hated crying. She hated showing emotion at all, let alone emotion that she couldn’t control.

“Everything’s fine. Everything’s fine. This is fine. It’s fine. It’s fine,” she said, stepping towards Dr. Gorin again, reaching out towards her, holding onto her, embracing her, burying her face in her neck, breathing her in.

“Jillian,” Dr. Gorin whispered, settling her hands on Jillian’s back, holding her close.

“It’s fine,” Jillian mumbled, but she was crying. She couldn’t stop it.

“We both know that it’s not,” Dr. Gorin said, running a soothing hand through Jillian’s hair.

They stood like that for a moment, Jillian trying to wrap her head around what was happening. Slowly, her body began to shake, and then noise erupted from her lips.

“Are you,” Dr. Gorin mumbled, pulling herself away from the embrace to look at her. “You’re laughing?”

“It’s just all so ridiculous!” she exclaimed. “I had a five-year-long affair with my married professor! Me! A renowned and respected scientist had an affair with me! Of all people! I’m the other woman. That’s fucking hilarious!”

“I don’t really see the humour in that particular situation,” Dr. Gorin admitted.

“Oh, come on. I’m me. And you’re...you. I’m nothing compared to you. I wanted to be you.”

“Be me?” Dr. Gorin laughed softly. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Jillian. You wanted to be me? I would give anything to be more like you. Headstrong, independent… your self-confidence could use some work, but… You are… You are you. Unapologetically you. Reckless… god, are you reckless, but… that’s you. You are special, Jillian.”

“You’re scared.”

“What?”

“You’re scared to be you,” Jillian elaborated.

“Yes,” Dr. Gorin agreed without hesitation.

“You’re really ending this, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she said again. “I’m afraid I am, Jillian.”

“You know… I hate being called Jillian.”

“Fine then,” she smiled. “Ms. Holtzmann.”

“Dr. Holtzmann,” she corrected her. “I graduate tomorrow.”

“You do, don’t you?” she said, turning away, back towards her desk. Jillian watched her, waiting. Finally, without even turning around to face her, she said, “I wish you the best of luck in your future.”

Jillian stood. Still. Staring.

“That’s it?” she nearly laughed.

“What do you want me to say?” Dr. Gorin asked, turning, looking at her. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you, Becca,” she pleaded. They stood for a moment, looking at each other, searching each other, before finally Dr. Gorin turned away again.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Holtzmann,” she said.

It was a dismissal.

And Jillian knew that it was no use staying any longer.

*

From the rooftop of the firehouse, the lights of the city seem to go on forever. There are still a few buildings that use their lights to showcase their appreciation for the Ghostbusters. Holtzmann looks at those buildings in particular. They remind her of what is good.

She sits on the ledge, her legs dangling over the side of the building, and she knows that it’s dangerous, but maybe that’s why she likes it. Her entire body had once dangled outside of a second floor window not too long ago. It surprises even her that she has no problem being so close to the edge.

“Holtz! Would you get down from there? That is so unsafe!”

She smiles. She doesn’t say anything, but she swings herself around, and Erin lets out a small yelp, and when she sees Erin, she has her eyes covered.

“Slowly! Get down from there slowly! Oh my gosh, I can’t watch this.”

“Down,” Holtzmann announces, and Erin pulls her hand away from her eyes.

“Thank you,” she says. Holtzmann crosses her arms over her chest, leaning her back against the ledge.

“You found me,” she states.

“Yeah,” Erin nods, taking a few steps in her direction, leaning against the ledge next to her. “You said once that you liked to come up here to think.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah. You did.”

They fall silent. The sounds of the city continue on below them. There’s a car horn, a man yelling, a noise in the distance that sounds like a trumpet. The breeze pushes hair into Holtzmann’s eyes. She shakes her head slightly in order to see again. After several long minutes, Erin speaks again.

“She broke your heart, didn’t she?”

“The heart is a vital organ. If mine was broken, I’d be dead.”

Erin sighs.

“You know what I meant.”

A pause. A moment. Silence. And then.

“Yep.”

“I hate her,” Erin says simply. Holtzmann lets out a snort of a laugh.

“You don’t really know her.”

“Doesn’t matter. I hate her.”

“She’s brilliant,” she says.

“I don’t care.”

“She taught me everything I know.”

“And then she hurt you. So. I hate her.”

Holtzmann smiles. She doesn’t look at Erin. She leans further back on the ledge, tilting her head up to look at the sky.

“She thinks that I’m going to break your heart, too,” Erin says.

The clouds cover the moon, but the light illuminates the edges.

“What did she say to you?”

“Not much that I didn’t already know….”

Silence. Other than the horns, the yelling, and the trumpet. There is also now the sound of a street vendor rolling his stand along the sidewalk, the heavy clunking of metal in a steady rhythm.

“I know… that you… have a hard time talking about your feelings… and stuff,” Erin says softly. “You don’t make yourself vulnerable very often. I know that. Um. But I… Well… I guess…. You have a hard time talking about your feelings. And I have a hard time even acknowledging mine. You know? I repress and repress and repress, until something happens and I can’t repress them anymore and they all just… come out. All at once. And I don’t always have the best handle on them. When I was a kid, my therapist gave me all these tips to try and manage my emotions, but I could never stick to one, and I just… I’ve never gotten the hang of it.”

Two dogs bark at each other down below. The clouds drift to the side, allowing the moon to show itself. It’s three-quarters full. Holtzmann looks at Erin. Erin is looking straight forward. The moonlight makes her hair shimmer.

“I hold things in and bury them deep down...until I can’t anymore. And then… it’s like… it’s like I’m on the top floor of a burning building and all of the doors are locked and I can’t get out.”

Holtzmann watches as a tear falls from Erin’s eyes, slowly streaking down her cheek, leaving a trail that shines under the moon. She reaches for Erin’s hand. She grasps it lightly at first, tentatively, leaving plenty of space for Erin to easily pull away. But Erin doesn’t pull away. In fact, she grips on.

A woman yells something in another language. A man yells something back. A car alarm goes off. The trumpet continues to wail.

“She said that… that you deserve to find somebody who is as invested in you as you are in them,” Erin says. “And as much as I hate her and never want to agree with anything that she has ever said… she’s right, Holtz. You do deserve that.”

Holtzmann looks up at the sky again. The clouds continue to drift along, a new one advancing upon the moon.

“I’m scared,” Erin whispers.

“Of what?”

“Of what I’m feeling.”

Holtzmann looks at her and is surprised to see that she is already looking back at her. She’s also surprised at how heavily her heart begins to thump in her chest.

“And what is it that you’re feeling?” she asks.

“Jealousy. That was the first feeling that I recognized that I had been ignoring. Kind of a big one. Kind of the catalyst, really.”

“It usually is.”

“And… I’m scared, because… because…”

“Because…” Holtzmann encourages her. She looks away, down at the ground, but Holtzmann continues to watch her.

“Because I think you like me and I think I like you and I don’t know what that means,” she says very quickly.

The street noises are gone. They’re not, really. They’re still there, but Holtzmann doesn’t hear them. The only thing that Holtzmann can hear is her own heartbeat, and it is beating at an alarmingly fast pace. Also, her stomach is doing a strange flopping thing inside of her. And her face is very, very warm.

“Well,” she says. “That can mean whatever you want it to mean.”

“I don’t know what I want it to mean,” she says, shaking her head, letting out a sad sigh. “I’m a mess.”

“You’re a very pretty mess.”

The corners of Erin’s lips twitch upwards just slightly, but they fall back down into the frown that has settled itself upon her face.

“You deserve somebody who is as invested in you as you are in them,” she says again. “I know that’s true. I know it’s true. I know that. But then… I think about… you being with someone. I think about what it would be like if you had a girlfriend, and… I hate it. I hate the idea of you having a girlfriend. And I thought that maybe it was just because… I don’t know, because I would still be single and I would be jealous if you weren’t, that I would be jealous of you for finding someone, not…. But…. Then I asked myself if I would feel the same way if Abby or Patty started dating somebody, and like, yeah, sure, I’d be a little bit jealous, but I would be happy for them, too, and then I realized that it’s not that I hate the idea of you having a girlfriend. I just. I hate the idea of you having a girlfriend that… isn’t… me.”

“I hate the idea of having a girlfriend that isn’t you, too,” Holtzmann blurts out, so quickly that she almost takes herself by surprise. Erin looks up at her again.

“Really?”

“Yah,” she nods.

“I don’t,” Erin gulps. “I don’t… know… I don’t know how to….I mean, I’ve never… I’ve never even been in a real relationship before. Let alone with a girl….”

“I’ve never been in a real relationship, either,” Holtzmann admits. “I had an affair with my married professor when I was twenty-two that lasted for five years, until I was twenty-seven, but it was never a real relationship, partially because she was married, partially because she was my professor, and partially because she was much, much older than me. She’s the only person I’ve ever been with. Ever.”

“Were you in love with her?”

“No. I thought I was. But then…,” she smiles, a small laugh escaping her. Erin tilts her head.

“Then what?”

“I’m gonna say this, and it’s going to sound so fucking cheesy, okay? I acknowledge this. I accept it. And I hope you can accept it, too.”

“What?”

“Um,” she laughs again. “Hold on. Can you ask me the question again?”

“What?” Erin scrunches her face up in that adorable way she does whenever Holtzmann does something that doesn’t quite make sense.

“Just ask me that question again!” she demands.

“Okay,” Erin says apprehensively. “Um. Were you in love with her?”

“I thought I was,” Holtzmann says again, gently pulling her hand free from Erin’s grip, turning to her side and leaning one elbow against the ledge of the building, propping her chin up onto her hand, and placing her other hand atop her cocked hip. She smiles brightly in Erin’s direction. “But then I met you.”

“Oh my gosh,” Erin sighs exasperatedly, rolling her eyes, but she grins. “You know, that could have been like, a serious moment right there.”

“I am being serious!”

“You’re turning it into a joke!”

“I know, I know, I know,” Holtzmann smiles, straightening up, reaching towards Erin, grasping lightly onto her hips and pulling her towards her until their bodies are only just touching. “But I really wanted to see you really smile. That’s why I do so many stupid things around you. You know that right?”

“Really?”

“Well, no. I always do stupid things, but I do more stupid things when you’re around. You make me very reckless, Erin.”

Erin’s hands find their way to Holtzmann’s arms, and her touch is tentative, nervous. She glances down at the closeness of their bodies. Holtzmann watches her, watches the way her eyelashes flutter each time she blinks, and the way her lips tremble slightly, and the way her hair dances in the breeze. The moon is out again. It’s reflected in Erin’s eyes when she looks at her again.

“Is she coming back?” Erin asks her. It takes her a moment to comprehend that she’s asking about Rebecca. Rebecca had all but vanished from her thoughts.

“No. She’s gone.”

“Good.”

Holtzmann continues to stare at her until finally, she can’t stare any more. She leans in towards her, slowly, and she sees Erin’s eyes widen, sees her fear, feels it, too. She moves her thumb gently, back and forth, against Erin’s hip, feels her breath on her face, quick, slightly erratic, feels the hands on her arms tighten their grip. Their noses touch.

“I won’t if you don’t want me to,” Holtzmann says in barely a whisper.

“I want you to,” Erin whispers back.

So, she does.

It’s just a soft press of lips against lips. That’s all. It lasts only a moment. Lips against lips. Holtzmann isn’t sure if the constant thumping throughout her entire body is her own heavy heartbeat or Erin’s, or maybe it’s both combined. Her fingertips feel numb. There’s a feeling in her stomach that makes her think of something being pushed into her belly-button and twisted around, but it’s pleasant in a strange, swoopy and twisty way. Like the moment she figures out exactly how to make a machine work. Or the very few seconds right before solving a tricky equation, when it all clicks into place. Lips against lips, and it all clicks into place.

The kiss lingers. Even when it’s over, it lingers. They linger. They don’t move. Their foreheads touch, their lips remain close, and Erin lets out a tiny nervous giggle, and she smiles.

“Radiation,” she mumbles.

“Hm?” Holtzmann asks. Erin giggles again.

“Warm and tingly.”

Holtzmann pulls away from her.

“Are you okay? I think you might be speaking in tongues.”

Erin giggles again. She slaps her hand over her mouth, but she keeps laughing, and Holtzmann watches her, and then she’s laughing, too.

“Why are we laughing?” Holtzmann manages to get out.

“I don’t know!”

“Okay!”

“Oh no,” Erin says, and her laughing ceases. “Oh no. Ohhhh no.”

“What happened?”

“I… I told Abby and Patty about… what I saw. I shouldn’t have told them. I know I shouldn’t have told them. It wasn’t my business to share. You’re going to be so mad at me, aren’t you? I totally understand if you--”

“Erin,” Holtzmann cuts her off.

“--hate me,” she finishes feebly.

“They would probably find out eventually,” Holtzmann shrugs.

“You’re not mad?”

“I’m not mad.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

“Just try not to spill any more of my secrets, alright?”

“I don’t know any more of your secrets.”

“Well. Not yet,” she grins, winking at her.

“What does this mean? All of this?” Erin asks, gesturing between the two of them. Holtzmann shrugs.

“It can mean whatever you want it to mean. Or, we can figure out what it means together. However long it takes, I’m in no rush.”

“Yeah. Neither am I,” she smiles.

“Alright. Good. Now, what do you say we go back downstairs and celebrate a job well done? With the ghosts, I mean. Not the kissing. The kissing was a job well done, too, though, in my humble opinion. But that would be a weird thing to celebrate with Abby and Patty. I think. I don’t really know.”

“Holtz,” Erin laughs. “Shut up. Yes. Let’s go downstairs.”

“Okay.”

*

“Oh, hey you two!” Abby chimes as Erin follows Holtzmann down to the first floor of the firehouse. Abby sits at the table behind her laptop, and Patty sits beside her, her nose in a book. Erin tries to look as normal as she possibly can. She smooths her hands over her hair, over her clothes. She’s convinced that she must look different. Because she feels different. Her lips are still tingling. Her hand is still warm from being held in Holtzmann’s until the moment they stepped onto the first floor landing. Her head is buzzing from everything that was said, all of the questions she still has, every uncertainty and worst-case scenario. And her cheeks hurt from smiling. She can’t stop smiling.

“Did you guys kiss and make up?” Abby asks casually, and then she giggles, and Patty laughs too, and Erin feels the blush rising in her cheeks.

They know. They’ve known. How long have they known?

She chances a glance at Holtzmann who shoots her a sly grin and then looks at their friends.

“I’m starving, you guys. Can we order something?”

“Please!” Patty yells. “Please! I am so hungry!”

“How about pizza?” Erin suggests.

“Pizza sounds great,” Abby agrees.

“Patty? Wanna go grab some beers from the corner store with me?” Holtzmann asks.

“You got it, baby,” she says, putting her book down and standing up.

Erin meets Holtzmann’s eyes one more time as she heads towards the door.

Radiation.

Warm and tingly.

She smiles.

“So, you wanna tell me about it?” Abby asks. Erin look at her. And she’s smiling. Erin simply nods, moving to sit down beside her best friend.

“Okay, I swear, I am going to find whoever is playing that goddamn trumpet and smack the hell out of them! They’ve been going at it for hours now! They’re not even good!” Patty exclaims as she and Holtzmann walk out the front door.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Erin hears Holtzmann say, her voice fading away as she gets farther. “I kinda like the way it sounds.”