Home had always been something of a foreign concept for Jillian Holtzmann. Her parents had moved around a lot when she was a child, meaning that Holtz had never had much of an opportunity to grow attached to a place. The same held true for people. Friends were few and far between even as a young child, with her intelligence and her obvious disdain towards social expectations making for a lonely school life. But by throwing herself into her school work, she could earn the approval of her teachers; validation that she didn’t gain from her parents, who were more concerned with money issues and where their next move would be.
Up until she was fifteen years of age, home was not four walls. Jillian often wondered if home could be a person and decided at the age of six that home was in fact her sister. Allison Holtzmann. Six years older than Jillian and just as brilliant, only a little more in line with “the norm”. Where Jillian had the same blonde hair as their mother, Allison had the brown hair of their father, usually worn loose and straight. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that Allison was more of a parental figure to Jillian than her parents had ever been. Even when Jillian was seven and Allison thirteen, it was her sister who would take her out and join in when Jillian excitedly picked up old pieces of metal, holding them out for her sister to hold as she spoke at great length about different things that she could make.
And when Jillian returned from school at nine years old, her baggy dungarees ripped and her face, arms and knees streaked with mud and blood, it was Allison who sat with her as Jillian told her about the kids who bullied her for being different. It had been going on for a long time. She just seemed to attract mean comments and teasing remarks. But never before had things become physical (not past a gentle push or a poke anyway). This time, however, the other kids had managed to push her onto the ground and another child had pulled her hair when she tried to scramble up and run away.
“I don’t know what I did wrong,” Jillian sniffed, burrowing her head into her sisters side. “I was just trying to join in. They called me a freak.”
Allison ran her hand through Jillian’s blonde hair, feeling her flinch due to the tenderness of her head from where the kids had pulled her hair. “They’re just jealous,” she assured the young girl, anger bubbling in her stomach. “Because you’re smart and beautiful and people are scared of things that are different. But you never stop being different. Because then you stop being Jillian, and I think the world needs a bit of Jillian Holtzmann.”
Jillian nodded and lifted her head, steely determination lighting her blue eyes. “What do I do if it happens again?” she asked, all innocence with a desire to prove wrong anyone who had ever doubted her.
“You hold your head high and you say ‘screw you’,” were her sisters words, and Jillian clung to her side, eyes glistening with tears. The next morning Allison did her hair differently; in a tight bun at the back, with the front flipped over to one side. “One day everyone’s gonna know your name, Jill.”
When she went to school the next day and the same kids called her names, Jillian lifted her head, balled her fists and looked them straight in the eyes. “Screw you,” she said in a low voice before turning and walking away, breathing a sigh of relief when they didn’t follow, too shocked at the unexpected retaliation. Although the name-calling continued after that (mainly behind her back), Jillian was never touched again.
Allison died when Jillian was fifteen. An accident that ended in a twenty one year old losing her life and an fifteen year old losing her home. The only person who had ever really heard her and taken her seriously. And Jillian carried on moving around, her parents even more distant. She carried on being teased. But most of all, she carried on being brilliant. What were once just vague ideas about inventions and scientific possibilities started to become potential reality as she became older. And when she was eighteen and enrolled in an evening metalworking class (mainly just to get out of the house and away from her parents arguing), she made herself a necklace in the shape of a ‘U’ with a screw going through it. Because even if Allison was gone, it was her who had been there. And Jillian would carry her everywhere she went, in the necklace she wore, the hairstyle she sported, and the memories she shared with her sister.
- - -
Talking about feelings wasn’t something that Holtz did. But when she met Rebecca Gorin whilst studying nuclear engineering and the woman became her mentor, Holtz couldn’t help but share some of her life with her. They spent a lot of time together, tweaking plans that Holtz had thought up and making them real. Gorin never really made those conversations into full discussions, instead being more of a listener. Holtz often wondered if she really heard or cared about what she said, but she walked into Gorin’s lab one day and saw her wearing a badge that matched her necklace. She never mentioned it and neither did Holtz, but the gesture made her feel warm. As with everything though, Holtz moved away from Gorin eventually. Not far, but once she had graduated from MIT she was expected to get a job. Which was how she eventually (after spending a few years wandering, not really sure what to do with herself) ended up working alongside Abby, researching the paranormal.
Abigail Yates was the type of person that Holtz could get along with easily. Incredibly open-minded with a sense of humour that matched her own. She largely allowed Holtz to do what she wanted in the lab, giving her the freedom to create all sorts of machines and devices to help with their research. She didn’t ask questions or pry and Holtz appreciated that. Plus, she tended to turn a blind eye when things went boom. Holtz would spend as much time as possible in the lab with Abby, much preferring it to the tiny apartment she lived in. Abby became Holtz’ only friend and she started to think that maybe that lab was home.
They had been working together for a while when Erin Gilbert first walked into their lab. Holtz had heard about her from Abby and if truth be told, didn’t have a great opinion of her to begin with. She had heard about how Erin had abandoned Abby and all of their research, leaving Abby to continue on her own (until she found Holtz). But despite Holtz’ presence, she could tell that Abby had missed her best friend despite the anger she felt towards her. But Erin soon joined their team and Jillian found herself surrounded by three women who she trusted and enjoyed being around.
- - -
Flirting with Erin was fun. Flirting with most women was fun, but Holtz enjoyed watching Erin’s reactions. To begin with, the flustered stuttering and Erin’s general awkwardness with the situation was amusing. Holtz kept at it for a while, ignoring the fact that she was beginning to really enjoy the company of the other woman. Holtz danced to her as they moved their stuff into their first ‘office’, mouthing lyrics into whatever she could get her hands on. And Erin’s awkwardness became endearing more than it was amusing.
Holtz had never had real romantic feelings towards anyone before. She’d had physical relationships with other women and even a couple of girlfriends in the past, but had never really liked someone in a ‘I could imagine myself waking up with you every morning’ kind of way. So the realisation that she actually liked Erin in a bit more than a friendly way hit her like a ton of bricks. She threw herself into her work, thankful when Kevin arrived to serve as a bit of a distraction. Erin’s constant (and terrible) flirting with their secretary caused her stomach to twist in a way that made her feel sick, but she could almost ignore it as they recruited Patty and started actually catching ghosts.
The five of them fell into an easy routine. Holtz would be in their office by 6:00 every morning, and that was on days when she didn’t just work through the night instead of going home. Erin was usually the second one to arrive, almost always turning up at 6:40 with an extra coffee in her hands for Holtz. She tried not to look too much into it, but nobody had every actually remembered her order before, let alone taken the time to bother getting anything for her. Abby would make her entrance between 7:00 and 7:30 and Patty would follow with some form of food for them all. The fact that Holtz, Erin and Abby would sometimes forget to eat when they were working often worried Patty, which was something that the three of them had been working on. Needless to say, it had been more difficult to Holtz to remember to eat than it had for the others (although Erin would get so engrossed in her equations at times that Holtz wondered if she was aware of anything other than the whiteboard and the feeling of the pen between her fingers). Kevin would roll in at varying times and take his seat at the desk, sharing stories of the ridiculous things he had been a part of (Holtz secretly loved it though).
Holtz had spent one particular day working almost non-stop, only taking a significant break when Patty dragged her from her desk to eat something with everyone else. She waved goodbye to everybody as they left, lifting her head to smile when Erin squeezed her shoulder.
“Make sure you get some rest,” she said, eyebrows furrowed in concern.
Holtz just shot her a wink. “Your concern is greatly appreciated, Gilbert. I’ll rest as soon as I work out how to get enough power into this. And you get the honour of testing it out just as soon as I’m sure it won’t blow up in that pretty face of yours.”
At that Erin had rolled her eyes and ducked her head to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. “Goodnight, Holtzmaan.”
Holtz spent the following couple of hours thinking about Erin. It wasn’t uncommon for the blonde to spend extended periods of time thinking about trivial things like what sort of scents Erin enjoyed or wondering whether she slept in matching pyjama sets or not (she still hadn’t come to a conclusion on either of them - more research was needed). But that night she found herself thinking about just why even the mildest of flirtatious remarks sent Erin into an awkward mess. Because as amusing and endearing as it was, Holtz couldn’t help but assume that she just wasn’t used to being complimented. The thought was absurd to her, but it seemed the only logical explanation. And it made her angry and a bit sad and absolutely determined to get Erin accustomed to being appreciated and complimented, because she had gone far too long feeling anything less than amazing and accomplished. And Erin Gilbert had quickly become one of Holtzmann’s favourite people.
So when Erin entered the next morning and placed a hot coffee on the desk beside Holtz, she stood up and wrapped her arms around the brunette.
“What was that for?” Erin asked, bringing her arms around to return the hug. Holtz was a tactile person but had never really hugged any of the women properly. She was all high fives and passing touches, never anything much more emotional than that.
“Are you complaining?” Holtz replied, raising one eyebrow as she pulled back slightly to watch Erin.
The physicist chuckled and shook her head. “I can’t say that I am,” she admitted, pulling away but keeping one hand on Holtz’ arm. “You didn’t sleep last night.” It was more of a statement than a question and Holtz didn’t bother trying to deny it. “Holtz, I swear, one of these days I’m going to have to pin you down and stay there until you get more than four hours sleep.”
“Sounds fun. Maybe we could do that anyway, just minus the sleeping part.” Holtz waggled one eyebrow up and down suggestively, grinning as Erin shook her head and turned around to get started on her own work. And Holtz realised that she could get used to the company of Erin outside of work hours, without either of them needing to disappear to finish something off.
- - -
Holtz visited the cemetery every Saturday. She didn’t usually spend much time there, but would always leave a letter that she had written for Allison propped against her gravestone. Occasionally though, she would speak to her sister for a while. Which was what she did the day after her conversation with Erin.
“Hey, Allison,” she muttered as she sat cross-legged opposite her sister’s gravestone. “I haven’t spoken to you in a while. I guess I just need someone to talk to about something. I’ve mentioned Erin in my letters before, but I think things are changing a bit. For me, at least. I really like her Allison. And not like the way I liked your friend when I was eleven. I mean properly. I can imagine myself living with her, Allison. I mean, she would probably tidy up all the time and have a go at me for not washing up the dishes soon enough, but I don’t think I care. You’d like her. She wears this shirt that has a tiny little bow tie on it and she dances like a fifty year old at a family party or something. But she’s funny and stupidly intelligent and crazy beautiful. And she doesn’t know any of it. I know I’m not a sap or much of an emotional person most of the time, but I’d give anything for her to see herself the way I see her. And I want to tell her, but I don’t know how.”
Holtz stayed for a little while longer, still almost able to hear her sister’s voice. She would tell her to tell Erin everything. Allison had always been upfront. And as Jillian left the cemetery, she resolved to tell Erin sometime soon, before she completely lost her nerve.
- - -
They saved New York City and moved into the firehouse once they received the funding they had been needing. Within three months of moving in, all three of the women had moved in for good, none of them seeing the point in paying for their own apartments when they spent all of their time at the firehouse anyway. Kevin didn’t move in, but he did join them for ‘sleepovers’ once a week. Holtz had successfully claimed the second floor and had a makeshift bed (which was actually just a pile of blankets) in one corner of the lab. Her actual bedroom was on the third floor along with the other three but she didn’t sleep in there very often anyway. Again, home had moved. But it felt good.
Holtz had always enjoyed working alone. As much as she enjoyed the company of others, when dealing with potentially very dangerous substances and machines she liked to be focused. And maybe she did dance around her lab and cause small to medium fires fairly frequently, but she had never caused any major damage (at least not since working with the Ghostbusters). Knowing that she was actually responsible for the safety of the others in regards to her inventions had instilled a strange sense of responsibility in the blonde. The last thing she wanted was to hurt one of them. Plus, it was just so much better to see Erin’s face light up when she tested something that worked well.
Since moving into the firehouse, Holtz couldn’t help but notice that her relationship with Erin had changed significantly. Erin had started working in her lab (which Holtz actually didn’t mind) so Holtz had quietly added a desk against one wall and hung up a whiteboard next do it. Erin would work there for most of the day, spending a lot of it scribbling on the whiteboard or reading various textbooks. But between the hours of 5:00 and 6:00 in the evening when they were preparing to finish for the night, Holtz would notice Erin just watching her (apparently, for all her intelligence, Erin didn’t have a clue about how to be subtle). It was nice, and Holtz would be lying if she said that she didn’t try extra hard in that hour and throw in at least one good dance number, often dragging Erin up to join her.
Erin finished up a bit late one evening and Holtz looked up to find her staring again, a small smile on her face. “You good there, Gilbert?” she asked, continuing to work on the contraption she was trying to perfect.
Erin jumped and fumbled with the book in her hands. “O-of course I am,” she stuttered, cheeks turning red. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You were staring.” Holtz set down her screwdriver and swung her chair around, propelling herself forwards to sit at the other side of Erin’s desk. “You’re not very subtle, you know.”
The brunette grimaced. “Your necklace,” she began, eyes darting to look at the metal around Holtz’ neck. “I’ve never seen one like it.”
“That’s because there isn’t one like it,” Holtz grinned, taking the necklace off and setting it on the desk between them. “I made it myself when I was eighteen. It just reminds me of something my sister always used to say to me.” She averted her gaze, not making eye contact with the woman opposite her. Allison hadn’t been a topic of conversation in a long time. Not even Abby knew about her. But it felt right to mention her to Erin. Allison would have liked her, Holtz was sure about that.
Erin’s eyes widened. “You have a sister?” She leaned forwards slightly. “Why have you never mentioned her before?”
Holtz took a breath, taking the necklace to toy with in her hands. “Allison died when I was fifteen. She was twenty-one and it was an accident. She was like my best friend and my parent all rolled into one and she always used to tell me that it was okay to be different. She didn’t care when I dragged her out to collect metal or when I stole her clothes because I liked how baggy they were. And she didn’t care when I told her I liked girls. I thought I was going to lose it when she died. I guess I didn’t really know where to go anymore, you know? But she wanted me to go to college and do what I wanted to do, so I did it. Because she was so clever, Erin. It should have been her who got the chance to go to college and follow her dreams and find friends like Abby and Patty. And find someone like you as well. ‘Cause she deserved it. Every bit of it.”
She had told herself a long time ago that she wouldn’t cry in front of people, but Holtz couldn’t stop the tear that rolled down her cheek. Erin got off of her chair and moved to kneel in front of Holtz, pulling her in for a tight hug.
“Oh, Jillian,” she sighed, ignoring the shiver than ran through the other woman’s body. “She would be so proud of you. I wish I could have met her.” Erin didn’t say anything else, not wanting to make Holtz feel like she had to talk about it. “Come sit over here.”
Holtz felt herself being pulled up and led over to her makeshift bed, where she sat with Erin beside her, rubbing circles into her back as she desperately tried to stop crying. Eventually she did and lifted her head to meet Erin’s gaze. “I’m sorry for this,” she muttered with a shake of her head.
“Don’t be silly,” Erin replied softly. “You have nothing to apologise for.”
Jillian lowered herself onto her back, feeling strangely cold after having been crying. She felt movement beside her and opened her eyes to find Erin moving away. “Erin,” she called quietly, waiting for her to turn her head before continuing. “Will you stay with me?” Her sudden desire for human contact (Erin specifically) was embarrassing, but she wasn’t sure she would sleep otherwise. And her emotional outburst, however brief, had been exhausting.
Erin nodded and moved back over to the blankets, lying next to Holtz and grasping her hand. “Always,” she muttered softly, her lips turning up as Holtz turned into her, head resting against her shoulder and arm slung across her waist.
- - -
Jillian woke up early, feeling a whole lot better. She felt even better when she turned to find that Erin was still asleep. Somehow in the night they had moved so that Erin was curled against Holtz with her head on her chest. Jillian just watched her for a while, taking the chance to appreciate the light dusting of freckles across the other woman’s face and the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.
Erin stirred before long, looking up at Holtz with a soft smile. “Oh, hi,” she greeted, voice raspy with sleep.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to wake up with you like this for?” Holtz asked, surprising herself with the burst of confidence that had caused her to speak so candidly. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to say anything. I probably shouldn’t have said that. It’s not the right time -”
Erin cut her off by sitting up and resting a hand against Holtz’ cheek. “It’s the perfect time, Jillian.”
And when they kissed, Jillian was sure that she had finally found her real home.