Two-Step
Spoilers: S5 & 6- no specific spoilers.
Disclaimer: CBS, creators, producers, etc., own all recognizable characters, not me; I'm just borrowing them.
Two-Step
In the silence, pain took on its own sound.
A dull throb pounded in her ears with every beat of her heart, and for the moment, Calleigh was grateful. Anything that diverted her attention from the discordant thoughts flitting haphazardly across her mind was a welcomed relief.
Staring out the kitchen window, her eyes drifted over the darkened landscape seemingly at nothing. There were a few scattered lights visible through shaded windows, but no signs of life, just serene stillness. It was a calm she could sense, though the feeling eluded her.
Stock-still, she stood in front of the sink and concentrated solely on the persistent throbbing in a feeble attempt to empty her mind. Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath and let the air out slowly, willing her body to relax. Just as she felt her shoulders slacken, a jolt of fiery pain shot through her upper arm. Tensing, she curled her hands into tight fists and bit down hard on her lip.
Perhaps focusing all of her attention on the throbbing in her arm hadn't been the choicest decision, she thought mockingly. Her intrusive, chaotic thoughts had, at least, offered some respite from the nagging discomfort. The pain medication she'd received in the emergency room had helped in that respect, but that dose had long since worn off, leaving her restless and uncomfortable. She wished she was anywhere but stuck at home, trapped inside her own head.
With her jaw tightly clenched, she winced through gritted teeth as she gently cradled her injured left arm. This is my own doing, she silently admonished. She had no one but herself to blame for her current state.
From the onset, she'd been determined to treat her injury as the nuisance that it was and nothing more, but clearly she'd overdone it, the price for which she was paying right now. Resolved that a wounded arm wouldn't hamper her, she'd stubbornly ignored her doctor's orders to limit her activity. Instead, with the overriding hope that keeping herself physically occupied would somehow prevent her from dwelling on the day's events, she'd restlessly moved from one mundane household task to another, just to prove that she could.
The sling had come off shortly after she'd gotten settled into the house. It was too restrictive and, since her arm wasn't broken, largely unnecessary. Foolish reasoning on her part, she realized now.
No unnecessary activity for the next few days. Her doctor's voice, gentle, yet authoritative in that way doctors had, sounded in her ear as if he were standing right beside her. She'd listened and nodded her agreement, but she knew her body and her limits, if not her limitations, better than he did. Or so she thought.
She heaved a frustrated sigh, an action that did little to ease her frustration and only seemed to intensify the throbbing in her arm. Abruptly she turned from the window and slouched against the sink while a flurry of unwanted thoughts raced across her mind.
For an ordinary day that had started with such promise, it was ending on a literally painful note. Her thoughts turned to the morning, and she smiled weakly despite the ache in her arm. Instead of being jarred awake by the insistent buzzing of the alarm or the trilling of the cell phone she never turned off, she woke gently, lazily, to the softly filtered sunlight streaming through the bedroom curtains and in much the same position as when she'd drifted off to sleep, nestled snuggly… She froze the thought and tucked it away; that wasn't a memory she wanted to revisit. How the day began no longer mattered.
A twinge of disgust bubbled up inside her as her mind replayed the events of the day. If only she'd reacted a second sooner and hadn't been slightly off balance when she'd reached for her gun. If only she'd anticipated the way things would turn out and hadn't set herself up for certain disappointment. Little good hindsight did now, she thought to herself with a weary sigh.
Cautiously she dropped her arm to her side and straightened up. Her eyes darted about the pale yellow kitchen as she contemplated what to do next. The grilled cheese sandwich she'd prepared earlier sat untouched on the counter next to an empty glass. She'd intended to eat, but had gotten sidetracked by a pile of unopened mail. Her gaze then zeroed in on the pair of prescriptions she'd brought home from the hospital.
One pain pill would ease her discomfort and curb her restlessness, she reasoned, but a quick glance at the clock on the wall reminded her it had been hours since she last ate. Since it was almost time for the next dose of antibiotic, and she preferred not taking either medication on an empty stomach, eating became a priority.
Resting her gaze back on the now limp and unappealing sandwich, she reconsidered; her appetite at the moment was negligible. She settled for a piece of fruit and grabbed a banana from the bowl of assorted fruits next to the sink. It was slightly over-ripe, but she forced it down nonetheless, figuring a little something was better than nothing.
The loud thud of a slamming car door broke through the silence, startling her.
Curious, she tossed the peel into the sink and turned her attention towards the front of the house. She wasn't expecting anyone, had, in fact, turned away all offers of company this evening, but her gut told her that this wasn't just any visitor. Her ears perked as the muffled sounds of movement outside the door grew closer. The familiar sound of a key in a lock elicited spontaneous flickers of anticipation she chose to ignore, and in a flash, she bounded to the door, the pain in her arm momentarily forgotten.
Her mind swirled with a jumble of emotions, but there was no time to sort them out. She reached the entry just as the door swung open. Jake let himself in and judging by his raised brows and wide-eyed expression, he was surprised to find her standing there. Pushing the door closed with a backwards shove, his eyes quickly traveled over her, roaming from her face to her arm before returning to meet her questioning gaze with one of his own.
"What are you doing up?" he asked, skipping any pretense of a greeting.
Bristling at the question, she answered tersely, "The door."
"Why?" Frowning, he shook his head at her, making no attempt to hide his disapproval. Not missing a beat, he continued, "You're supposed to be taking it easy. I figured you'd be sleeping."
"I'm perfectly capable of answering the door," she said pointedly.
Brow furrowed, he made a face. "Well, you didn't need to, I used my key," he answered matter-of-factly. He flashed his jingling keys in front of her face before shoving them into the back pocket of his jeans.
His key. The one she had given him weeks ago, although not without reservation. She didn't hand her key out readily; in fact, she'd given her key to only one previous boyfriend, and now, more than a decade later, it was in his possession once more. But for how much longer, she couldn't say.
"So I see," she replied icily, throwing him a look to match her tone. The words hung in the now thickened air. His eyes probed hers expectantly, as if waiting for some cue as to what came next. She didn't keep him waiting. "What are you doing here, Jake?" She flung her arms out as she tossed him the question, biting back the grimace the motion caused. Concern filled his eyes as he watched her movements, but she brushed it off, her expression never wavering.
He cocked his head to the side. "Why do you think? To see you," he answered with a casual flick of his hand as if his reason for being there should be obvious.
Taking a hesitant step towards her, he stopped just shy of what she considered, at this moment, to be much too close. Barefoot and with a bandaged arm, she felt tiny, diminished, next to his lanky frame. Squaring her shoulders and straightening her back, she raised herself ever so slightly and fixed a challenging gaze on him. Every small movement caused a painful tug on her arm, but she ignored the sensation, preferring to keep her discomfort to herself.
"You couldn't have simply called?" It had certainly been sufficient earlier, she hastened to add, but instead bit back the words with a bitter swallow, unwilling to reveal herself quite so plainly. She'd already spent far too much time ruminating on that very subject with nothing more than a tangled web of confused thoughts to show for it.
"Well then I wouldn't have gotten to see you." The corners of his lips turned up playfully, matching the tone in his voice, but his eyes were flat and unreadable. His expression grew serious when she didn't return his smile. "Besides, I did call, not that long ago, and you didn't pick up," he continued. "I thought you were sleeping, so I cleared up a few loose ends before heading here," he finished with a shrug.
He was right; he had, and she hadn't, although she couldn't quite pinpoint the reason why she'd failed to pick up the phone.
"If you thought I was sleeping, then why did you come?"
His eyes narrowed and he gestured feebly with his hand before raking it through his hair. "I told you Calleigh, I wanted to see you. Wanted to make sure you were okay." A tinge of defensiveness crept into his voice.
"I'm fine. I told you that earlier. You didn't need to check up on me."
"Wanting to see you is not checking up on you," he stressed. "Figured I could give you a hand with whatever you needed, maybe pick us up some dinner."
"I'm managing just fine," she said, cutting him off. "So you needn't have concerned yourself." Considering how much his lack of concern had affected her, the irony of her words didn't escape her notice.
He stared blankly as if needing a moment before the significance of her words registered, but if they eventually did, his expression didn't show it. A pair of dark, intense eyes surveyed her carefully. "You don't look fine," he countered, taking a small step forward and leaning in. "And don't try to tell me your arm doesn't hurt because I can see it in your face." She rolled her eyes and huffed irritably, but didn't offer a retort. "You forget, I know how much something like that hurts." Lowering his voice, he spoke softly, looking at her with such concern she felt her chest tighten in response. Quickly she looked away, fixing her eyes on a point just past him. "Have you taken anything since you got home? Because you're not doing yourself any favors if you wait too long. I know they gave you a couple prescriptions before you left the hospital."
Reluctantly she flicked her gaze back on him. "I haven't needed to." It wasn't the complete truth, and judging by the way he screwed his face up, he knew it.
"Figures." He shook his head at her. "You know it wouldn't hurt so much if you kept it in the sling they gave you or at least kept it propped up. You know you're supposed to be taking it easy the next few days." He paused, drawing in a quick breath. "The more you use it, the more it's gonna hurt, not to mention the risk you take of opening it up again."
His voice was gentle without a hint of admonishment, but still, the subject was a prickly one with her. He was right, though, her doctor had told her the exact same thing before he'd discharged her, but hearing Jake echo his instructions sent her defenses into overdrive.
A quizzical look crossed her features as she considered his words. A question perched on her lips, but she quickly brushed it aside. Of course he would know what her doctor had told her, she deduced. At some point in his career, he'd likely heard similar instructions himself. Jake had collected his share of on the job injuries over the years; she was intimately acquainted with each and every one of his scars, a thought she rapidly dismissed from her mind.
Dropping her chin slightly, she lowered her gaze from his penetrating eyes. She forced a neutral tone into her voice, hoping to stem her rising defensiveness. "Jake, I told you, I'm fine. My arm's fine, just a little sore. Really, it's little more than a nuisance."
His eyebrows rose as a look of disbelief stretched over his features. "Calleigh, you were shot." He wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know, but his voice rang with such undisguised emotion, it was like hearing the news for the first time and her body shuddered in response. "I'd say that's more than a little nuisance."
Instinctively she attempted to downplay her injury. "It was a ricochet, Jake, a low velocity shot, one that barely caught my arm," she countered. A parade of images flashed before her eyes, and the sound of gunfire rang in her ears as she spoke. Jake's incredulous voice pulled her from her head, and she looked back up, meeting his widened, haunted eyes head on.
"Barely caught your arm? It sliced it open. And you're lucky that's all that bullet did." His hand cut through the air like a knife, and he shifted his weight, his movements as edgy as his voice.
She lowered her eyes and drew in a sharp breath before responding with intended steeliness. "I know what it did, I was there. And I was the one sitting in the emergency room while they stitched it up." Lifting her eyes to meet his, she fixed an icy stare on him. He caught her gaze briefly before shifting his focus away.
"I know that," he said quietly. Tilting his head to the side, he exhaled loudly, rubbing his forehead with rough, uneven strokes.
"Then you also know I can take care of myself. And right now I'm going to sit down and put my arm up." Cradling her injured arm, she turned on her heels and padded into the living room, not caring whether he followed or not. It came as no surprise, though, when she felt his looming presence behind her seconds later. She'd issued no invitation to join her, but she hadn't asked him to leave, either. Ignoring him, she one-handedly grabbed the three decorative pillows off the couch and carefully stacked them on the center cushion.
"I could've done that for you."
She wheeled about slightly and gave him a frosty, tight-lipped smile. "I'm not helpless," she retorted before turning away with a casual toss of her head.
Behind her, he blew out a long and unmistakable sigh of frustration. "Well, is there anything I can get you?" he asked, his eyes boring holes in her back. "Anything you need?"
Freshly settled in the corner of the couch with her injured arm resting on the pillows, she regarded him with a steady gaze. He'd neither taken a seat nor moved any closer. Instead he stood stiffly with his hands shoved in his pockets, shifting his weight from side to side, looking strangely uncomfortable.
She shook her head definitively. "Nothing I can think of." Not even you. The words perched on the tip of her tongue, but she held on to them. Carefully she repositioned her arm on the stack of pillows, grateful for the brief distraction and the opportunity to gather her thoughts. "Jake, you don't need to stick around, you've seen for yourself that I'm fine," she said after a moment.
His face screwed up and his eyes narrowed as he took the words in. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just what I said. There's no reason for you to stay. I think I'm going to try to catch up on some reading tonight," she responded off-handedly. "And you can get back to whatever it is you've got going on," she continued, gesturing in the air with her good hand.
He stared for a moment, a puzzled expression clouding his eyes. Tilting his head to the side, he blew out another heavy sigh. "You're mad at me."
Inwardly she bristled at the words, spoken more as a statement of fact than a question. "I'm not mad, I'm not anything," she said quietly, exercising a fair amount of restraint.
"Could've fooled me," he replied humorlessly.
"All I said was that I was going to do a bit of reading, and that you could get back to whatever you were doing before you came here."
"So you said," he answered with a hint of frustration. "Well, there's nothing I need to get back to."
"That's not the impression I got from you earlier," she responded, feigning indifference.
He looked at her quizzically. "What are you talking about?"
"That last time we spoke, when I was waiting for the doctor to release me," she reminded. "You said you had a lot going on⎯"
"Well, that's true," he interrupted. "You know what a backlog of cases we have, how busy we are.
"You're right, we are."
He hurried on before she could add anything else. "But that hasn't got anything to do with us or with me being here now."
"Doesn't it?" she asked pointedly.
Lips pressed tightly together, he shook his head slightly. "No, Calleigh, it doesn't. I told you, I finished up everything I needed to do so I could be here. I want to be here."
"Oh?" The single word response lobbed off her tongue coated with disbelief. "Didn't you make a it point to tell me that you were swamped with work and would be tied up for the next several days?"
He took in a breath and blew it out slowly, avoiding her eyes. Rocking back and forth on his soles, he pinched the bridge of his nose as if thinking hard. "Well, yeah," he finally answered, lighting his eyes on her. "But I didn't⎯"
Cutting him off, she continued, her eyes fixed intently on his. "And didn't you also say that you didn't know when you might be free?"
Sighing deeply, he turned his face away from hers. "I know what I said, Calleigh."
"And I know what you meant," she replied with certainty.
He swung his head back around to face her. "I didn't mean anything by it." He spat the words with conviction, but there was no missing the ring of defensiveness in his voice or the way his eyes darted back and forth while he spoke.
"Didn't you?" she scoffed. She didn't believe him; Jake's moves were always calculated.
"No," he answered brusquely. His gaze came back to rest on her, a knowing look in his eyes. "That's why you're mad at me, isn't it? Because of work, because you think it's more important."
A look of tired sadness passed over her features. "I told you, I'm not mad." It was the truth, even if his expression told her he didn't believe her for a second. But this wasn't anger she was feeling. There was no discernible rhythm to her current emotional state. Anger had momentum, it would flash, but eventually pass, unlike this leaden disillusionment that clung with a persistence she couldn't shake.
"Because that's not how it is." His face twisted and he rubbed impatiently at his brow. She watched his movements closely, choosing to let the unasked question hover in the air between them. "I called you, Calleigh, more than once," he emphasized. "You were fine, you said so yourself."
"I was, I still am," she said firmly.
"I know that." Hesitating, he held her gaze for several long seconds, long enough for her to discern the same haunted look in his eyes she had seen earlier. "And I knew you weren't there alone. If you'd needed anything, Calleigh, a ride home, anything… If I'd been there⎯"
"But you weren't." She heard her voice crack ever so slightly as the words spilled out unguarded and unintended, revealing the hurt and disappointment she'd been suppressing. She caught his eyes for an instant and saw the flash of recognition in his before she quickly looked away.
He drew in a sharp breath. "Calleigh…" he exhaled, dropping his voice low.
It was a soft plea, an emotion-laden request that wrapped around her heart and squeezed tightly. But it was one she couldn't answer, not now, not when her disappointment was still felt so acutely. With a shaky breath, she shrugged him off, refusing to let him in.
"I had a ride, I told you that," she said, skillfully deflecting his concern. Determined not to let her emotions get the better of her, she hurried on, her voice composed, her words brisk. "There was nothing I needed, nothing for you to do," she pointed out, affecting an air of nonchalance that didn't come easily. Directing her gaze past him, she avoided meeting his eyes. "And no need for you to come." Let him ponder that, she thought acidly.
It was the truth…except it wasn't.
Even now it wasn't something she could easily put into words. Unaccustomed as she was to being on the receiving end of both a bullet and so much unwanted attention, she'd nonetheless taken it all in stride. Her wound wasn't serious. It bled more than she would've expected, and hurt more than she ever could've imagined, but despite its ragged edges and the steady stream of blood, it was hardly life or career threatening, and for that, she was immensely grateful. She knew she'd be stitched, bandaged, and sent on her way in no time. It was a painful inconvenience, a bothersome hindrance that would keep her out of the field for a handful of days, nothing more. So how then could she explain the rapidly increasing unease that gripped her the moment they'd wheeled her into the emergency room?
She couldn't, at least not with any rational explanation.
Despite the crush of medical personnel and coworkers hovering over her, she'd felt alone and unnerved in a way she'd never before experienced. Hidden beneath her cool, steely demeanor, tangled swirls of emotion knotted her insides. And deeper still, lay an unbidden and inexplicable longing, a longing too fragile to acknowledge and too persistent to ignore.
She wanted Jake.
She wanted him there, with her, and not on the other end of the phone, an admission she found just as unsettling as Jake's conspicuous absence.
Pensively she stared out the shaded window behind the couch, seeing nothing. Ceaseless, inward questions haunted her thoughts. Just what had she expected? That maybe he'd want to see for himself that she really was okay? Or cared enough to sit by her side? That he should have known she'd want him there? That somehow, he simply knew?
She slumped back against the cushions, and blew out a weary sigh. She knew not to expect, why couldn't she remember that?
Because when it came to Jake, she couldn't follow her own rules, her heart always betrayed her.
He'd broken her once, but she'd been blind to the past, deluded into thinking that this time would be different. Convincing her had required minimal effort on his part; she'd had little resistance to her long suppressed desires, to the sparks of attraction that refused to go out no matter how hard she tried to rationalize them away.
Ever mindful of past mistakes and old wounds that never completely healed, she stepped lightly at first, then plunged headfirst, forgetting to brace herself for the inevitable hard landing. But it wasn't too late for her to finally open her eyes and see the truth.
Nothing had changed; Jake still wouldn't step out for her, he couldn't undo who he was. He would never put his job on the line, not his job, not his heart. Not for her. No matter how much she'd wanted to believe otherwise, she was never going to matter quite enough.
Taking in a deep breath, she exhaled softly and lowered her lids. Nothing had changed, and yet, once she removed the hazy filter through which she viewed their relationship, she could see that everything had, indeed, changed.
"Calleigh?" His voice pulled her out of her lull, and she glanced in his direction. He'd managed to finally seat himself, but perched as he was on the edge of his chair, palms braced against his thighs, he looked ready to leap up any second. "You okay?" he asked with gentle concern.
Absently she smoothed her hair, tucking loose strands behind her ear and nodded slightly. "I'm fine, it's just been a long day." He responded with a nod of his own and a weak smile as if that was the answer he'd been hoping for.
"How's the arm?"
"A bit better, thanks." That much was true, at least. Propping the arm and limiting movement had lessened her discomfort, just as he'd said it would. But she'd known that as well, same as she'd known that stubbornly overdoing it in the first place would only cause her more pain. Not the first time she'd failed to listen to her inner voice, she realized with an inward cringe. It suddenly struck her that perhaps there was a revealing pattern to her behavior, but she pushed the thought away before it could take hold.
Shifting in his seat, he sat up straighter and gestured to the kitchen. "You hungry? I could fix us something," he offered. "I bet you haven't eaten since you got home."
She shook her head, eliciting a frown from him that she chose to ignore. "But thank you for offering."
"C'mon, my cooking's not that bad," he tried, flashing a lop-sided grin. "I think I do pretty well in the kitchen, don't you?" he asked teasingly.
She gave him a faint smile. She knew he was trying, but it wasn't hunger that was currently gnawing her insides. "I'm really not hungry," she answered quietly, her smile fading as her voice trailed off. "I'll fix myself something later if I change my mind," she added with an awkward and uncomfortable shrug. If he noticed she hadn't included him in her plans, he didn't comment, but the impish look left his eyes replaced by one she had a harder time reading.
He watched her closely, his questioning eyes silently probing hers. "Well, there must be something I can get you," he said, sounding slightly desperate. "How about tea?"
Clearly he wasn't about to let the subject drop, driven, she imagined, by his need, not hers. "I already told you, Jake, I don't want anything right now," she repeated, feeling a stab of irritation.
"Okay, fine," he said, throwing his hands up. "I was just trying to help." His words were clipped and laced with exasperation he'd made no attempt to hide. Dropping his chin, he exhaled loudly and thrust his hand through his hair.
She felt his frustration, felt it as acutely as her own, but she couldn't react to it, not when her every emotion lay so close to the surface. So she said nothing, instead watched him out of the corner of her eye and wondered what was going through his head.
Her own thoughts flitted chaotically, one forming quickly on the edge of another. Impatiently she tried to pull them together, but to no avail; what they needed, she realized, was release.
From the moment Jake had walked through the door, she'd been neatly sidestepping the inescapable, and the result of her dodging was the escalating, palpable tension that now pervaded the room. The discussion they weren't having crowded the strained silence. Inevitable words dangled temptingly, loose threads she hesitated pulling. And as impossible to ignore as the direction the two of them were currently headed.
A flash of movement caught her eye, and she twisted her head around to better see him. With a deep sigh, Jake rose from the chair, shook himself off and rubbed his hand over his face before edging towards her. "Calleigh, about today," he started, his voice uncertain.
Bolting upright, she squared her shoulders and raised a hand to halt his progress. Height was the only advantage she was going to give him. "You were right, earlier," she interjected, leveling an unwavering gaze on him. Her heart was pounding, but her voice was deceptively calm. He came to a swift standstill, mouth slightly agape and shot her a quizzical look. "About how busy we both are and how little time we have for a relationship," she finished. "It's something that's been on my mind as well."
His eyes formed two slits as he studied her. The tension between them stretched even tighter. "That's not what I said, Calleigh," he stated with emphasis. "And not what I meant. I told you that." Dropping his chin, he shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed irritably. "I don't know why I said what I did." Sighing again, he shrugged and shook his head. "I was just thinking out loud. You weren't supposed to read something into it," he said determinedly, looking back up and catching her eye."
That was exactly what she'd done, but she disregarded the thought just as quickly as she disregarded his words. Shifting her gaze away from his, she hurried on, "But it's true, just the same. Our jobs are demanding, and neither of us is capable or willing to do anything to change that."
The lines of confusion etched in his brow deepened. "What are you getting at?" he challenged.
The atmosphere was charged, she could all but hear the electricity crackling, and she chose her words carefully as she attempted to field her way through it. "What I'm saying, Jake, is that between the two of us, our hours are long and unpredictable, leaving us with little free time."
"Calleigh, you make it sound like we never see each other, like neither of us does anything but work. We manage."
"Do we?" She cringed internally at the slight squeak she heard in her voice.
"Yeah, Cal, we do."
His confident response took her by surprise. She shook her head, disagreeing. "We've tried, but I think more often than not, one of us winds up feeling short-changed."
"Well, I don't know, Calleigh," he said with exasperation. Pulling his hand out of his pocket, he gestured at nothing in particular and shrugged. "So we try harder."
"It's not that simple, Jake," she replied, barely keeping her own exasperation out of her voice. "We've been down this road before, and if you recall, it didn't end particularly well," she continued, tasting bitterness in each and every syllable. "Neither of us should have to go through that again." His widened eyes studied hers as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Under the scrutiny of his intense gaze, she felt her control begin to ebb away. Accent thickening, she began to speak faster, hoping her rapid speech would outpace the swell of emotion rising to the surface. "And what about the risk we're taking with our jobs? Just how long do you think we can continue to hide our relationship this time? You can't tell me that it's never on your mind because I know it is. It's certainly on mine." Energy depleted, she finally stopped and gulped a breath of air.
"Then I guess we'll have to figure it out."
"Well, we haven't, have we?" she countered, her voice ringing with pent up emotion she could no longer conceal. "If we continue seeing each other, it's going to get out. Again. And what then?" Temporarily forgetting her injury, she threw up her arms, finally giving in to her frustration. The fiery pain that shot down her wounded arm was immediate and enough to bring a sting of tears to her eyes. Gingerly cradling her arm, she pressed her lips together tightly and lowered her eyelids, determined to stave off any further display of emotion. Her composure was slowing slipping away as it was.
"Cal? You okay?" His response was laced with anxiety. Edging closer, he leaned in and gently laid his hand on her shoulder. She flinched at his touch and he promptly backed off, dropping his hand and taking a step backwards. "Cal?"
"I'm fine," she answered brusquely, piqued by both her circumstances and the question she'd already answered umpteen times today. Carefully she placed her arm back on the pillows and took in a steadying breath. Her arm throbbed, but the worst of the pain had fortunately subsided. Satisfied she'd regained enough control, she tilted her face upwards, meeting his penetrating gaze head on. Hands on his hips, he was watching her closely, worry creasing his features. His concern was genuine, and she felt a stab of guilt over her unwarranted reaction. "Really, Jake, I'm fine," she answered, her voice softening. "The pain took me by surprise, that's all." She let out a quiet sigh. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, you didn't deserve it."
With an easy smile and a flick of his wrist, he waved off her apology. "Don't worry about it. Just take it easy, okay?" he coaxed. Warmth filled his brown eyes, drawing her in and piercing every one of her remaining defenses. "We'll think of something."
She stared at him, her mind spinning in several different directions at once. This wasn't the conversation she'd envisioned in her head. They were supposed to be agreeing to a mutual parting of the ways, yet Jake seemed to be reading from an entirely different script. His reaction baffled her; he wasn't supposed to be fighting this, he wasn't supposed to be making it harder than it already was.
"Things will work themselves out, Calleigh."
"They won't," she murmured hesitantly with none of the certainty she'd intended. Her heart was betraying her again, clinging stubbornly to the flickers of hope in his words and exposing her doubt. She shifted her gaze from his and dropped her chin, preferring to stare at her lap rather than be drawn further into the depths of his expressive eyes. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe in them, but his actions proved impossible to ignore. "We can't, not this time," she continued, distractedly fingering the edge of the pillow.
"What are you saying?" he asked, sounding as confused as he looked.
She cast a sideways glance in his direction. Brows drawn downward, he stared in waiting silence. "We can't put our jobs on the line, Jake. It's not worth it," she said firmly, determined to push past her uncertainty.
His lips tightened and he shook his head as he spoke. "It doesn't have to be like that, and you know it."
Swallowing hard, she lifted her chin and boldly met his gaze. "But, it is like that."
He was right, though, it didn't have to be; there were options, there were always options, and once she would have eagerly fought for them, whatever the consequences, but no more. Empty promises left lasting scars, and she already had more than her fair share. She was tired of heading down this road with him only to discover that she was waiting alone on a cold, dark, dead end.
Her heart was racing with clashing emotions, but she spoke calmly, determined not to give herself away. "I just don't think this is what either of us wants."
He responded without hesitation, his voice low, but vehement. "You don't know what I want, Calleigh."
She inhaled sharply, taken aback by the intensity in his voice, which in turn fueled her own. Her eyes locked onto his. She forced an even tone into her voice, but disappointment and hurt seeped through anyway. "Well, you're right, Jake, I don't. But I do know what I want. And this…" She gestured feebly with her good hand, at the same time imploring him with her eyes to understand just how difficult this was. She shook her head sadly and lowered her eyes. Her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "It's not enough…not for me."
It was, she realized, the most honest thing she'd said to him all day, a statement in which she'd said little, yet revealed as much as she was able, and she had the searing pain in her heart to prove it. Drained, she leaned back and rested her head against the cushion, jostling her arm in the process, but oblivious to the discomfort the movement caused. Her lids slipped down over her eyes, but not before she stole a glance at him.
He was staring, past her it seemed, his mouth open slightly, but it wasn't the stunned expression on his face that caught her off-guard, sending a deep shudder through her body, it was his eyes, and the haunted expression they held. She'd seen the same look in his eyes earlier, and this time it pierced her cleaner than any bullet. She hadn't been able to decipher it then nor could she now, but she knew it wasn't a look she would soon be forgetting.
The room had grown uncomfortably silent, the air thick with the shadowy presence of uncertainty that hung over them. She could sense Jake's impatience, hear it in his rustling movements, but she had no idea what, if anything, he was waiting for. There was nothing more she could say, she'd reached her limit; she was through putting her heart on the line.
Fatigue scratched at the back of her eyes and she vainly tried to rub it away. She avoided looking up, wished only that he'd walk away, leaving her alone to sort out her head. She wanted him to leave, knew it was for the best, right up until she imagined him actually walking through the door.
She wanted him to leave. She wanted him to stay. The diving line between the two was quickly crumbling.
"Things happen in this job, Calleigh, all the time, and most times there's not a damn thing you can do about it." At the sound of her name, she looked up. He was facing the door, his back to her, but he slowly wheeled around. "There's no time to think, you just do what you have to do, and when it's over, it's over. I don't let anything that happens in this job stick with me. I let it all go." He stopped and drew in a deep breath, leaving her to wonder where he was going with this. Judging from the mix of confusion stretching over his face, she wasn't certain if even he knew. He rubbed his hand over his face several times, muffling his voice. "This…today…no different…" She leaned far forward, straining, but only caught bits of what he'd said before his voice trailed off.
He took a step forward, stopped, shoved his hands in his pocket and removed them just as quickly. He shifted his weight and took another hesitant step. His restlessness stoked hers, keeping her on edge and she squirmed in her seat. "Do you know where I was when we got the call?" he asked, briefly lighting his eyes on her.
The color drained from her face as she remembered Horatio's call for assistance. Officer down, two words that could turn blood cold and send a shiver of panic through even the most seasoned veteran. The call he'd gotten was for her; she was the downed officer requiring assistance. Jake had received the broadcast along with every other on-duty cop, a detail she'd never considered. She knew he'd heard what had happened, but she'd never stopped to think how or when he'd gotten the news. Biting down on her lip, she shook her head. She had no idea where he was at the time, but he was no longer looking in her direction, apparently not waiting for an answer.
"We'd just rounded up a suspect and were getting ready to bring him in." Hanging on his every word, she studied him with heightened scrutiny. His mouth was set in a tight line, his jaw tightly clenched. Hands on his hips, he stood rigidly, staring past her, distress creeping into his eyes. "We weren't close enough to respond, but I had to know..." Pausing, his face twisted and he looked to the floor. His voice took on a subtle, yet unmistakable note of urgency. "I don't know why you came to mind first, but you did. And I wasn't sure where you were. I tried to get a hold of you, but you didn't pick up, all I got was your voice mail." He took a quick breath. "Something just didn't feel right," he mumbled, shaking his head, his hand resting on the bridge of his nose. "And when you didn't call back, I just knew." Her breath hitched in her throat. She felt his anxiety pulling across her chest, making it hard to breathe. "But I still didn't know what had happened and no one I called gave me a straight story. I only knew you'd gotten caught in gunfire. I didn't know…" His voice was rough and he halted mid-sentence, leaving his thought unfinished. The silence that followed took on a heavy weight.
Perched on the edge of the couch, she longed to get up, to go to him, but remained frozen, lost in her own recollections. Sounds and images returned with a shiver of vivid remembrance. An urgent need to fill in the missing pieces swept over her. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped before she uttered a sound.
It had all happened so fast. The gunman began firing before she'd had a chance to react. By the time she'd reached for her gun, it was too late, and she was on the ground, her arm bleeding, with Horatio fast approaching. He'd heard the shots, seen her go down, and immediately radioed for assistance, thinking… A cold knot formed in her stomach. She knew exactly what Horatio had been thinking; she'd seen the cold, quiet panic in his eyes when he'd finally reached her. He'd thought her injury was far more serious than it was; he'd feared the worst.
A chill crept over her. She understood now what Jake had been trying to tell her, but wouldn't…or couldn't, except in his own way, he had. Jake, too, had felt that same panic.
He'd feared the worst.
She hadn't known. Whatever he'd been feeling, he'd kept completely to himself.
"It took several calls, but eventually I got the story pieced together and knew you were okay." Jake's voice pulled her back to the present, but her mind was stuck, turning over details, trying to put all of the pieces together.
He'd left her two messages, but nothing about them had clued her in to his anxiety. She couldn't help but ask herself what she had missed. The timing of his calls, for one, came her silent reply. She hadn't listened to the afternoon's accumulation of voice mail until after she'd returned home from the hospital, and when she did listen, she never connected the timing of Jake's calls to the minutes following the shooting. And the messages themselves had only served to fuel her irritation. Guilt bubbled to the surface, heating her cheeks. She couldn't look at him⎯guarded, restless, uncomfortable, so un-Jake-like⎯and not feel pangs of regret. She dropped her chin, letting her hair sweep in front of her face, shielding her from his view.
She replayed his messages in her head, searching for clues. Abrupt and insistent, he'd asked only that she return his call as soon as possible. She'd assumed he'd been calling about the bullets he'd asked her to test earlier that morning. Impatient for the results, he had already called once asking for his results and had been less than pleased to discover they weren't her first priority. She'd assumed that was the reason behind his urgency. She hadn't considered the possibility that it could be anything more. But in light of the day's events, she should have, she now realized, causing her guilt to surface once more.
Still, despite his worry, he'd stayed away, not coming to see her until now, hours later. And when he had finally reached her by phone at the hospital, nothing was amiss, he'd seemed himself, albeit distracted, which again, she'd blamed on work. He'd said all of the right things as well as all of the wrong, she remembered, recalling the way he'd rambled on about how busy he was.
She couldn't make sense of it, couldn't make sense of him.
He blew out a loud sigh, snatching back her attention. "I was relieved," he said quietly. She looked up, but his gaze slid right past her. "I wanted to see you," he added almost to himself.
"But you waited until now." It was a statement he couldn't refute, a question she couldn't ask, and as such, it crossed her lips sounding like a southern accented hybrid of the two.
His body stiffened and his jaw clenched. "I did want to see you, Calleigh," he replied, this time with added emphasis.
His unequivocal response shed no light, offered nothing in the way of understanding. She let out a small sigh. There was something he was holding back; she could feel it in the tension that emanated from him. And judging from his guarded manner, he seemed intent on keeping it that way.
Since he wasn't going to give her a straight answer, she decided to provide one for him. Watching closely for his reaction, she spoke plainly and directly. "Maybe so, but as you said, you were busy. And since we're not supposed to be seeing each other, you decided it was best not to come to the hospital." The words hadn't come from him, yet hearing them hurt just the same.
He wheeled about and took a step towards the couch. "That's…not it," he said, disagreeing with a quick shake of his head. "I know you think it is." He spat the words, looked momentarily chagrined, and then backed away. He turned his face from hers, but not before she caught his eyes and saw the struggle playing out in them.
Seconds ticked by in weighted silence. She kept her eyes fixed on him. A tiny muscle flicked angrily at his jaw. His whole body was pulled tight, the muscles in his arms taut beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. Whatever he was holding back couldn't remain locked up for much longer, she reasoned. Calculated words or unbridled truth, she didn't know which to expect; the latter, she suspected, trusting her instincts.
Patiently she waited him out.
"You're right, I was busy," he said finally, contradicting himself, and leaving her even more confused. "I kept myself busy." He inhaled and held the breath a long time. "You were shot, Calleigh," he said pointedly. "And I couldn't…" He stopped and shook his head. "I couldn't stop thinking about what that bullet could've done. I knew you were okay, but I couldn't see you. I couldn't see you hurt, not the way I was thinking, not then." He hung his head and rubbed his brow. For a long moment, his words hovered in the air between them. "So I kept on doing what I was doing." He gave a resigned shrug. "I thought it would help," he muttered, his voice so low she barely heard him.
Her mind whirled; it was almost too much to wrap her head around. Methodically she followed the trail of fragmented evidence he'd given her, internally piecing all the bits together.
He'd purposely stayed away, but not for the reasons she'd presumed.
Shaken, he'd immersed himself in his duties, assuming the feeling would soon pass. Ignoring his desire to see her, he'd kept his distance, never once giving any hint to the real reason behind his absence despite his repeated calls checking up on her.
He wouldn't let her see how rattled he'd been.
The awareness came without surprise. Jake had spent the better part of his career keeping his true emotions under tight wraps, and no one knew that better than she did. He wore his arrogance the way others wore their hearts on a sleeve, but his vulnerability, he kept well hidden. And in this glimpse beneath the surface, he'd revealed far more than the truth; she knew now, without doubt, that hers was not the only heart on the line.
In a moment of clarity, she felt their sameness as keenly as their differentness. She, too, had been shaken, far more than she dared admit. She'd concealed her vulnerability behind a stoic façade, never admitting to Jake how much she wanted him at her side. If she'd asked him to come, told him she needed him, he would have been there. He would've gotten out of his head and stepped out of his own way. But she hadn't asked, instead she'd sat alone waiting.
"I knew you'd tell me you were okay even if you weren't." Jake's voice broke into her thoughts and she tilted her face to his. He'd taken several steps backward, expanding the space between them, but when his gaze rested on hers, pulling her into his depths, the distance seemed to melt away. "I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner, Calleigh," he said softly. "I should have."
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wait, what did you say?" she asked, still digesting his words. "You were at the hospital?" He gave a short nod. She shook her head, not understanding. "When we you there?"
Head tilted, he pressed his lips together. "Just after you'd left. I guess I just missed you."
"But when we spoke on the phone that last time, I told you they were about to release me."
"I know," he answered with a sigh. "But you know how it is with hospitals, how everything takes twice as long. I figured you'd still be there."
"Then why didn't you tell me you were coming?" she asked, her voice an octave higher.
He spread his hands and shrugged. "I didn't know exactly when I'd get there. I got another call out, and I was stuck with it till I could get someone to cover me. Took longer than I expected." His frustration came out in a long exhale. "I didn't want to hold you up if they were ready to let you go. I'm sorry it took me so long."
"I would have waited," she said wistfully. "I wanted to see you." She felt a swell of affection for him wash over her. He'd certainly taken the long way around, but at least he'd gotten there; he'd finally stepped out for her.
Looking at her with tenderness, he gave her a faint smile and shook his head. "I didn't want you hanging around there any longer than you had to, not waiting on me anyway. I did get to talk to your doctor, though. He seemed bright enough. Flashed my badge and he told me pretty much everything I wanted to know. Guess he figured I needed it for some report," he answered with a shrug.
She should have known. Lowering her head, she smiled to herself. She should have figured it out when he'd repeated her doctor's orders almost verbatim. He'd certainly never bothered to pay such close attention to instructions when it came to his own injuries.
And she should have had a little more faith in them, in what they shared, and more importantly, in Jake, she thought now, courtesy of hindsight. He did, after all, have a knack of eventually coming around.
They were trying, this time, to do things right or at least differently, even though they managed to get it wrong almost as often as they got it right. Theirs might be a two-step of missteps, but with a little more practice, they might just yet perfect this dance.
"I, uh, should probably get going, let you take it easy," he suggested, catching her off-guard. She tilted her chin up and swallowed hard. Jake leaving was the last thing she wanted. "You need me to get you anything before I go? Something to eat, anything?" he asked, motioning towards the kitchen with a tilt of his head.
"You don't have to leave." Too late she realized how passive she sounded. It wasn't the same as asking him to stay, and his set expression confirmed she'd done little to dissuade him on that score.
"I should. You need to rest and I've got…" His eyes darted around the room as if he were trying to come up with something in a hurry. "A bunch of paperwork to catch up with."
She bit back a smile at the lack of creativity in his response. He hated paperwork. He'd sooner pull a double than spend an evening off writing reports. But leaving was what he thought she wanted and considering the conversation they'd had earlier, not to mention the lingering guilt she imagined he still carried, she couldn't blame him. But she wanted him to stay, and this time she left no room for doubt.
"Will you please stay?" she asked, giving in to the smile that had been lurking at the corners of her lips.
His brows flickered a little and he gave her a dubious look. "You sure?"
"I am," she reassured. "I want you to stay."
"Okay." His features softened and he returned her smile. "So is there anything I can get you, something you need me to do?"
Her smile widened. Undoubtedly he would be asking that same question all night long. But there were worse things. "I'm fine, Jake." She glanced at her watch. "It's not quite time for my next dose of antibiotic and I'm really not hungry. But there is something you can do for me," she suggested with a coy smile.
He tilted his head, eyes filled with amusement. "And what would that be?"
"Will you please come sit down? You've been standing practically since you got here and watching you fidget is beginning to wear me out," she replied with a laugh. Gingerly lifting her arm, she took hold of the pillows with her good hand and moved to the center of the couch, leaving no question where she wanted him to sit.
"I can do that," he snickered, covering the distance between them in a few quick strides.
After kicking off his boots, he planted himself in the spot she'd just vacated. She waited for him to settle before scooting backwards, coming to rest against his chest. He grabbed her pillows, stuffed them into place and then slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. Gently she placed her injured arm on the stacked pillows and leaned back into his embrace. She heard his deep intake of breath, the slow exhale that followed, and then felt his entire body relax, probably for the first time in hours.
"That good?" he asked, inclining his head, his warm breath tickling the side of her cheek.
"Mm," she sighed, feeling her own deep coils of tension finally spring free. "Much better." A lazy, satisfied smile danced across her lips. "You're a much more comfortable backrest," she drawled.
He chuckled. "Glad to know I can be of service." It was a long moment before he spoke again. "Are you really okay, Cal?"
It was a loaded question; he was asking about more than the status of her arm, she could hear it in his voice. Wriggling around to see his face, she gave her answer without hesitation. "I am, Jake. Really," she emphasized. "Are you?"
"Yeah." The easy smile that curved his lips confirmed it. She twisted back around and laid her head against his chest.
His fingers found their way to her face, tenderly caressing with the lightest touch. She gave herself over to the soothing sensation, to the feel of Jake wrapped securely around her, and let her eyelids drift to a close. There was certainly more for them to talk about, but there would be plenty of time for that later. What was important now, was simply being together. It was time for this painfully trying day to come to a close.
The soreness in her arm was bearable, the tangled swirl of emotions replaced with a deep feeling of contentment. In time, her memories of this day would dim. She'd always have the scar on her arm to remind her, but scars, like bad memories, faded over time.
She laid her hand on top of his and twined their fingers. A hand to hold, his hand, that's what she'd longed for today. She wished she'd been able to tell him, wondered if such admissions would ever come with ease.
Taking a chance at love meant facing her fears and throwing herself wide open into the possibility of pain, but the risk was not without its own sweet rewards. As if reading her mind, he bent down and pressed the gentlest kiss on her cheek. She breathed a contented sigh.
For now, this was exactly enough.
The end