Chapter Text
Gemma knows she should mostly be worrying about herself right now, but she can't shake the feeling that there’s something wrong with Alice. That Gemma needs to be worried about it.
It’s odd, because for their whole relationship, Gemma has never really needed to worry about her. Alice seemed to always know what she wanted, what she was doing, exactly who she was. She was self assured and confident, or at least Gemma thought, but she found out when Alice yelled at her that she seemingly didn’t think the same thing.
Gemma wishes she didn’t need to spend so much time on her couch. She wishes that when Alice came over, which she did a lot, that she was able to stand and go somewhere with her, get her to talk to her honestly. It’s kind of hard to have a real and serious conversation with someone when you’re laying on a couch.
But most of all, Gemma feels bad. She feels really fucking bad. If she’s hurting now, and struggling now, she can’t imagine how Alice felt. How she still feels. God, why didn’t she reach out more? Why couldn’t she see through her bullshit like she can now?
Gemma sighs and tilts her head back into the arm of the couch. At least the ergonomic pillow her mom got actually isn’t that bad, although she wishes it wasn’t the most unflattering neon pink she’s ever seen. She’s a fan of pink, but it threatens to burn her eyes. At least Alice smiled slightly when she first saw it. Gemma will take the humiliation if it makes Alice smile.
God, if you told her that when she was playing with Alice at Arsenal, she would have thought you were playing a prank on her. That you needed to get your head checked. There’s no world in which she ever saw Alice thawing enough to be actually friends with her.
But she understands her now. More than she’s ever understood anyone. It’s a terrifying concept, but whatever, she’ll deal with it.
But she’s not seeing Alice today. One of the only days since she was injured that she’s not. Other people have come by, the twins, Shannon, and Lizzie sometimes accompanied by boots more than anyone else, but there’s something that Gemma likes about Alice more even if she doesn’t want to admit it.
Gemma glances at her phone. The day has barely started. She wants to call someone tonight, but she’s not sure who, or when they’re even going to be done training. Does she want advice tonight? Or does she want to gossip, and chat about stuff that doesn’t matter? Who would she even call for either of those?
Gemma groans dramatically and grabs an extra pillow, putting over her face so she can groan again, but louder. She doesn’t want her mother hearing and storming, talking her fucking ear off again. She’s had enough of that the past couple weeks, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to take it.
Gemma decides she’ll use some of her free time to keep looking at her law books. She may be putting it on hold for right now, but she has to keep her mind sharp.
She wishes Alice was here so she could read it to her again.
Gemma makes a face as the thought crosses her mind. Why did she think that? Whatever, it’s not like she likes Alice or anything, it’s just… Stockholm syndrome or something.
By the time Gemma is sure practice is over, she’s barely read a page of her text book. She’s worried. She can’t place why, but she is. She wishes Alice was here. She’s seemed so anxious lately, Gemma hopes she’s doing okay.
Gemma makes a face again. Literally what is wrong with her? Why does she keep thinking this? Without time to change her mind, she throws her textbook aside, picks up her phone, and calls the one person on the team she actually trusts when giving advice. The others are nice, but no one comes close to Lizzie in terms of giving advice.
The video call rings for so long, and Gemma is half convinced she’s going to be sent to voice mail (do video calls have a video mail? They didn’t go over that in law school), when the phone makes a noise and Lizzie suddenly appears on Gemma’s screen.
“Gemma!” She says, voice full of excitement. Gemma can hear her sons playing (fighting?) in the background. “How are you feeling?”
“Good, but this isn’t about me,” Gemma says. “It’s about Alic- Coach Chilton.”
She catches herself, forgetting that she’s literally the only one on the team who calls her Alice. It’s something she knows everyone notices, and they always try to poke at it.
Lizzie smiles and goes to say something, but Gemma frowns and shakes her head. “This is no laughing matter Lizzie! I’m really worried about her!”
Lizzie’s face drops immediately and she raises a hand in apology. “Right, yeah, sorry. I thought this was going to be a different conversation, sorry.”
“What did you think?” Gemma asks, trying really hard to figure out what she could be talking about.
Lizzie just shakes her head. “Not important. What are you worried about?”
“I think she’s… sad,” Gemma says, with another frown. God, she’s really worried about this, isn’t she. She doesn’t really think she’s one for frowning, not normally, anyway. “She’s making me feel like an asshole, honestly.”
“An asshole?” Lizzie asks, brows pulling together. “How?”
“She’s doing all this stuff for me,” Gemma says. “Like having you guys go the doctors, coming with me for my scans, telling Mrs. Welton that I’m allergic to nuts, coming over all the time. I don’t know. It makes me feel bad.”
“What do you mean bad?” Lizzie asks. God, she asks so many questions, but maybe it’s because Gemma is dancing around what she’s really trying to say here.
“I didn’t do any of this for her,” Gemma says bluntly. “And it makes me feel like an asshole.”
Lizzie chews on her bottom lip. “What do you mean you didn’t do this for her?”
“When she got hurt-” Gemma cuts herself off suddenly “Shit, wait you didn’t know that, right?”
Lizzie shakes her head, but she makes a zipping motion over her lips. “I won’t tell a soul, don’t worry. Secret is safe with me. What were you saying?”
“When she got hurt…” Gemma trails off, trying to find the proper way to phrase this. “I quit. She got mean to me. Harsh. Always trying to make me work harder, calling me lazy, all that stuff. I- looking back, I get it. She was trying to make me live up to what I could be, but I just- She’s so obviously doing this stuff for me because it wasn’t done for her, and I.. fuck. I feel so bad.”
“Talk to her about it?” Lizzie asks, drawing it out like it’s the most obvious thing ever.
“No,” Gemma says, and if it wasn’t Lizzie on the phone with her, she’d be embarrassed about the fact she literally pouts, but the captain probably sees worse from her kids. “I don’t want to.”
LIzzie rolls her eyes. “Then I’m hanging up until you actually want suggestions.”
“Ugh, fine, I’ll talk about it with her,” Gemma says, even though it’s kind of the last thing she wants to do. Talking to Alice is like pulling teeth. It’s such a pain in the arse.
“Good,” Lizzie says, pausing for a moment before prodding again. “What are you going to talk about with her?”
Good question. “Shit. I don’t know.”
Lizzie laughs softly to herself. “Do you want suggestions?”
“I’m just going to wing it,” Gemma shakes her head. “It usually works.”
“But Coach Chilton hates it when you do that,” Lizzie says and Gemma just shrugs.
“She’ll learn to love it eventually,” she says. “Bye, Lizzie, thank you.”
Lizzie frowns, and opens her mouth like she’s going to say something, but Gemma hangs up on her. She will talk to Alice. She will… eventually. Maybe not anytime soon, but eventually. But until then, a little bit of constant worry never hurt anyone… right?