The One That Got Away
So this is a little something I came up with out of boredom.
Disclaimer: I do not own G Callen…
He thought about that day all the time. She never left his mind, even after all these years. He thought that maybe he could move on, but now he was starting to think that was impossible.
She was etched into his memory, forever, and no matter how hard he tried to get her out of his head, he couldn't. Her smile, her eyes, her laugh, everything about her was stuck in his head.
He didn't even know her real name; she changed aliases like most women changed shoes. It wasn't her fault; she was like him, a ghost in their world filled with crime, danger, and treason. It was the only way they knew, and they couldn't change, no matter how hard they tried. After all the years they had been at it, this little game of creeping around in the shadows, they didn't know how to act any other way. He understood secrecy, he understood her, more than anyone, and she understood him.
Sometimes he thinks that she'll come back, and then he laughs at his ludicrous thoughts. He didn't even know if she was still alive, hadn't been in contact with her in fifteen years. She wasn't going to come back, the chance of her coming back was beyond slim, it was nearly nonexistent, but his hope had to come from somewhere, because he really couldn't think of her being dead, he couldn't afford to think like that when she kept him going, even after all these years, he ran on her memory.
She probably didn't even remember him, didn't really expect her to, if she was still alive. Fifteen years is a long time to try and remember someone. She always took the most dangerous jobs, pushing herself to the limit to actually see if she would make it out, and she did. Most people called her reckless; she just thought it was a challenge to overcome.
His mind thought back to the day he hadn't found her at her desk, working away at the paperwork that they both hated. She hated it, but she didn't let it pile up, claiming she didn't want to spend her nights stuck at work like he did, even though she knew he couldn't sleep. Then he had chalked it up to the fact that she was probably stuck in traffic, and he begrudgingly started on the paperwork that had begun to overrun his desk. Now, fifteen years later, he knew better than to think that she had ever gotten stuck in traffic, because with her driving, she rarely ever did.
He didn't want to think about the letter he had found amidst the pile of paperwork overflowing his desk, saying that she was gone and she didn't know if she would be back. He didn't want to think back to the fact that he had never told her he loved her. He didn't want to think that his partner, the woman who he told everything, and who he had eventually fallen in love with, was gone.
She was the one that got away, the one that he would always wonder about.