Someone To Save You
Calista Johnson frowned at the terms issuing from Ken Arthur's mouth and folded her hands in her lap to prevent them clenching into fists. Senior or not, the man was a jerk in her not so humble opinion. Her thin lips pursed irritably as she glanced to her left on the Scott's couch, where Nathan Scott and his wife were listening attentively to everything her superior was proposing. Ken was just saying something about moving the family to Barcelona for a season, to keep Nathan in shape until the Bobcats' next season. Why did she have to be here for this? From the armchair opposite her Jay Mitchell was smiling smugly, he would be Nathan's new agent if the family could be convinced to move to Spain for a year.
Callie was just thinking it was a very good thing neither of the men could read her vicious thoughts, when a door slammed from the direction of the kitchen. Seconds later Clay barged in, followed closely by a tall brunette. Mrs. Scott grimaced awkwardly at the woman as she said something about sitting with Jamie upstairs and vanished, but Callie kept her eyes on Clay. In a black shirt and trousers, he pulled off a strangely casual look that still meant business, typical. Callie bit her lip to hide a relieved smile; things just had to be okay now. Clay's hair stood messily on end and it looked like he'd been up all night, but the words spouting from his mouth were smooth and practiced: This was his agent mode as she'd come to love and respect it.
"This is what they do," Clay warned urgently, staring at Nathan even though his gaze was firmly averted. "Always making promises they can't keep!"
Ken raised his hand calmly; "I don't think this is the time or the place for your interference, Clay."
Callie glared at the older man, but Clay's gaze was steady; "With all due respect sir, this is exactly the time and place to stop a horrible mistake from taking place."
"If you really want to talk about mistakes, how about the fact that Nathan fired you?" Ken shot back.
From his spot in the armchair, Jay smirked triumphantly when Clay took a step back and lowered his gaze. Nathan just watched the power struggle unfolding before him, beginning to doubt whether this was the right thing to do. "I called them here, Clay," he said softly. "Nobody's forcing me to do anything."
Callie couldn't help but think of a shark eating a little fish alive at the eerie steadiness of Ken's gaze as he continued; "There you have it. All things considered, I think it would be best if you resigned and left the agency," he said smoothly.
"I can't do that," Clay protested. Callie pressed her palms firmly together, feeling helpless at the brief flash of horror in his dark blue eyes. She wondered vaguely if Nathan had noticed it too, but Clay's next words triggered a memory in full force, and she became oblivious to the Scott family with one sentence. "I made a vow to someone that I would never quit," he said. "I'm not about to betray that now!"
Not for the first time, her pathetic old car had broken down, and Callie was running late for work. It was a hot July day, and she had almost toppled over in her high-heeled shoes as she skidded into the reception area of the ISC office building in a frantic rush. Jabbing the power switch on her computer quickly, Callie glanced through the glass door of Clay's office and frowned: It was deserted, despite her obvious tardiness. Deciding to make herself useful, Callie approached the coffee machine in the small canteen corner of the office. Jay Mitchell's assistant Amber was filling a cup already, a bubbly redhead always good for office gossip. Callie leaned against the small counter to catch her breath after the mad rush and asked; "What's new, Amby? Have you seen Clay?"
Amber frowned at her, no sign of her vivacious nature present; "I'll be very surprised if he shows up for the next few days," she said grimly. "Haven't you heard the news?"
"That's why the whole world comes to you, madam," Callie joked. "What have I missed?"
"His wife died yesterday," said Amber slowly, grimacing apologetically to be the bearer of such news as Callie's hand flew to her mouth in shock. "I'll bet Mr. Arthur will send you to his house today to pick up the client applications he was running through. There he comes, look!"
Feeling distinctly shaken, Callie whipped around to see the white-haired top boss strolling towards them. She swallowed nervously as he came to a halt in front of her, sparing Amber a quick nod of recognition; "I take it you've heard the tragic news," he said coolly, and Callie nodded, hating his cold superiority with a passion. "Then you know that Clay was just handed a bunch of prospective clients," he continued, getting straight to the point. "It wouldn't be fair to expect him to represent so many people at this difficult time, kindly go and collect the applications today. Jay will take over the cases," he said, nodding at Amber as if to say all this was soon to become her business. Then he shamelessly took the cup of coffee Callie had just made expecting Clay to be waiting for her; "Shame to waste this. Back to work, ladies."
"I hate that man," Callie muttered under her breath, and Amber giggled awkwardly. "Poor Clay, this is horrible." She sighed; "Can I borrow your car, A? My piece of scrap metal some try and call a car broke down again this morning. I was sure I was going to be late."
"Go for it," Amber nodded, walking over to her desk to retrieve her car keys and pressing them into Callie's hand. "Good luck over there."
The two-hour drive to Raleigh from the Tree Hill office seemed to go by in no time with Callie's busy thoughts keeping her company all the way. Disbelief and sympathy rolled into a messy ball of muddled emotions as she approached Clay's house. Hesitating awkwardly on the doorstep she could hear a baby screaming inconsolably inside the house; it was painful. Finally, she gathered her nerve and rang the doorbell. A woman with wavy ginger hair streaked with grey opened it after a moment; "How can I help you?" she asked wearily.
Callie was too stunned by the woman's obvious tension to speak, and by the time she regained her voice, Clay emerged with a screaming baby boy leaning on his shoulder. "Callie? What are you doing here?" He glanced at the older woman desperately; "Mom, this is my assistant, Callie. How about a trade? This is something I know how to handle at least," he said softly. He rubbed the baby's back gently; "Please calm down, little man, please!"
"He'll be okay," his mother promised unconvincingly and relieved him of the wailing toddler. "I'll leave you to it."
With that, she wandered back indoors and left Clay staring curiously at the blonde on the doorstep. Callie fidgeted, feeling scrutinized and awful at the prominent red rims and shadows around his eyes. "I'm so sorry, boss," she said softly. "This is unbelievable."
Clay swallowed, even his voice had become strangely raspy; "Thanks. Why are you here anyway?"
"Orders from the big boss," Callie said bitterly. "Mr. Arthur wants you to hand over the client applications you're going over at the moment. He said it like he's doing you a great favor, but you should have seen Jay's face. Jerk," she muttered.
"You really need to rein in those opinions, Callie Johnson," he smiled faintly. "Come in."
She followed him at a respectful distance, taking in the open glass lid of the record player in the corner from her position on the white couch. Clay made a bee-line for the bright red wooden kitchen table, not looking at the record player or the island counter to the left and right of it. He shuffled the pile of papers on the table and brought them over to where she was sitting without a word. He ran through the forms quickly and pulled out a few from the pile, handing the remaining ones to her. "I'm coming back on Monday," he promised gravely. "I'd already picked out these stand-outs; Jay is welcome to the rest."
Callie gaped at him; "You're kidding!" It was already Friday. "That's really not necessary, Clay."
"Yes it is," he insisted, and she suddenly heard an edge of desperation in his voice. "I know I probably look like hell, but I need this, Callie!" He glanced over his shoulder, beyond the island counter a door led to the bedrooms and Callie could hear the baby screaming again in the distance. "My son has been a wreck for two days, I'm not cut out for this," he said miserably.
"Okay," Callie managed calmly, despite the lump swelling in her throat at his visible pain. "Monday it is then." She straightened the pile of applications he had handed her to fill the awkward silence, then threw caution to the wind and squeezed his hand. "Anything I can do, say the word, okay?"
"Maybe don't tell Ken I kept these applications," Clay suggested, motioning at the smaller pile of papers.
"My lips are sealed," Callie grinned. "Any really good ones in there?"
"The NBA just called up Nathan Scott to play for the Charlotte Bobcats," he replied. "I have a really good feeling about him. That's the big leagues, he's gonna need an agent."
"Mrs. Evans had a saying about your prospective clients, right?" Callie asked carefully, and nostalgia clouded his gaze instantly.
"More a hope than a saying," he corrected. Then he closed his eyes and quoted; "She used to say I would find people with integrity and heart, clients who would become friends." His eyes were watery when they popped open again. "I'm not sure I trust my judgment now she's…gone."
"Your judgment is just fine, boss," Callie said reassuringly. "And when it isn't you've got me, deal?" Clay didn't say a word, but his grateful smile when he arrived in the office on Monday morning to an extra strong coffee and a bottle of plain eye drops to hide the redness caused by tears said it all.
"Callie, will send you your personal belongings," stated Ken's gravelly voice and the blonde grimaced at the way he said her name. That could only mean one thing; Clay was officially fired. It gave Callie a grim sense of satisfaction to notice that Nathan's expression was suddenly very guilty.
His wife squeezed his shoulder consolingly but once again Callie kept her gaze on Clay. He was staring at the ground, the mask of confidence he put forward in agent mode completely gone. She watched him swallow dryly a few times, certain that only she could tell he was struggling to stay composed. "I'm sorry, Clay," she said gently, half-hoping he wouldn't look up; the look in his eyes was killing her.
But no such luck, Clay stared at her for a long minute, looking positively tortured. "It's okay, Callie," he forced out waveringly. His gaze drifted to Nathan, who was still refusing to look him in the eye, now possibly out of guilt, Callie guessed. "I'm sorry, too," he said meaningfully, aiming the words at the Scotts. Then he turned away without another word and left the living room, clapping a photo frame on the mantelpiece face down as he passed it. From Mrs. Scott's regretful murmurs to her husband, Callie gathered the photograph was from their son's birthday party and Clay was in it. She felt sick long after his footsteps faded from earshot and didn't hear another word Ken or Jay said.
Clay knew the gathering would have been expecting him to storm out of the house, but with his bosses out of sight, his head cleared enough to realize the one he really needed now was on site too. With that thought, he rounded the corner and climbed the stairs to the upper bedrooms, where he knew Quinn would be with Jamie in his room. Behind the closed door he could hear the two of them laughing about something and hesitated wearily; "Way to be a killjoy, Evans," he scolded himself, but his hands were practically out of his control as they pushed the door open.
Quinn and Jamie were curled up on the boy's bed, intently focused on the basketball video game Nathan featured in. "You really suck at this, Aunt Quinn," Jamie laughed when she looked away from the screen at Clay's sudden entrance, and the graphic figure of Nathan on the screen tripped awkwardly over the basketball.
"Quit complaining, you like winning don't you?" she shot back knowingly and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Besides, I like the view offscreen better," she grinned and paced over to where Clay stood hovering near the door. "How did it go?" she asked softly.
Fully aware that Jamie had paused the game and was watching them with mild interest, Clay lowered his voice; "My boss just finished what Nate started," he said, swallowing hard as his head sagged against her shoulder. "I'm an agent without an agency as of now."
Quinn's eyes flashed dangerously as her arms circled tightly around him; "No way!" She took a step back and braced her hands firmly on his shoulders; "Look at me," she insisted, forcing his gaze upwards. "This is not over, okay?" Her lips quivered slightly as she continued; "Haley made it very clear she has no respect for me anymore. It sucks that there are sides here, but I'm on yours," she promised. "No matter what!"
"I seriously wonder why sometimes," he sighed. "I do not deserve you, Quinn James! I'm so not worth going against your whole family for."
"I'll be the judge of that, thank you very much," she grinned and kissed him firmly to put an end to the self-deprecation. "All you need is someone to believe in you. I'm your girl, Clay Evans." She leaned in closer and let him cling to her like some kind of life-line. "Aren't there any clients they can't take away?" she asked hopefully.
"There might be one," Clay said, not feeling particularly optimistic after the day's events. "I'll tell you later," he added, as Jamie shut off the television and came over to them, tugging on Clay's sleeve to get his attention.
"Are you leaving, Uncle Clay?" he asked in a small voice. "I heard Mom and Dad talking about moving to Barcelona the other day; I don't like it."
Clay exchanged a look with Quinn and knelt down to Jamie's level. "It's complicated, buddy," he said carefully. "I didn't do something at work how your Dad wanted me to, so he's not very happy with me right now."
"But he's your friend," Jamie said simply. "Momma says friends are supposed to forgive each other." He looked puzzled at what could possibly be so complicated about the situation, and Quinn smiled in spite of herself.
"Your Mom's right, Jamie," Clay consented. "But sometimes it's not that easy." The little boy's bright blue eyes were just like Nathan's, and Clay could feel a lump swelling in his throat at the affection in them. "Can I get a hug?"
Jamie obligingly moved in closer and flung his arms around Clay's neck. "I love you, Uncle Clay," he murmured, and Clay saw the tears forming in Quinn's eyes when he scooped the little boy up. "I think Dad is being silly and I wish you didn't have to go."
"I know, buddy," Clay said softly, squeezing Jamie tightly. "I love you too, no matter what happens with your Dad. Don't forget that, okay?"
"Okay," Jamie blinked sadly. He turned to Quinn apprehensively; "Are you leaving too, Aunt Quinn?"
Quinn glanced at Clay quickly, who shook his head slightly as he straightened up. "I'm not going anywhere, kid," she reassured him, but her gaze remained locked on Clay. "Put the game back on. Just give me a minute, alright?"
"Awesome," Jamie grinned and hopped back onto his bed, digging for the television remote under his pillow.
"I don't care what Nathan says about business, he did this because of our relationship," she huffed defensively. "It's totally personal!"
Her eyes blazed as his fingers trailed through her hair, forcing their heads close together. "Your anger is really hot," he smiled. "Please stop, Nathan already hates me enough!"
"He doesn't hate you," Quinn corrected gently, leaning in to kiss his cheek now that they were being watched. "You'll find a way out of this mess, I know it. You're a great agent and an even better friend, no matter how long it takes Nathan to see that," she stressed.
"Thank you," he whispered, pressing a kiss into her hair when Jamie wasn't looking. He gave her a tight squeeze before backing away; "It's been a long time since someone had so much faith in me."
"Happy to help," Quinn smiled sincerely. "Everything's gonna be okay, trust me." Her grip on his hand lingered as he reached for the doorknob; "What's your next move anyway?"
Clay swallowed anxiously; "I have to keep trying to fix this," he said grimly. "See you later?"
"You can count on it," she promised, reluctantly releasing him as Jamie beckoned her impatiently back to the video game. Faith could only go so far in the business world. She crossed her fingers as Jamie mercilessly began to defeat her character on the virtual basketball court again; it was all she could really do.
Clay meanwhile returned to the living room below to find that Nathan and his ISC colleagues had vanished, most likely to negotiate at the office. Callie, however, was still perched on the couch awkwardly making polite small talk with Haley. "What are you still doing here, Callie?" he asked, doing his best to ignore Haley's painfully cold grimace at him.
"You know how my car gets, boss," she said casually. "I rode over here with Jay; if I'd had to share a car again with him right now, I probably would have said something to get myself fired." He could see that same fiery defensiveness in her pale green eyes that Quinn had shown upstairs; it inflated a bubble of warmth in his heart. "Can I get a ride back to the office with you?" she pleaded hopefully.
"I'm not your boss anymore," he reminded her quietly. "But yes, you can." He tossed her his car keys neatly; "The car is in the driveway. Wait for me outside, okay? I have something to finish up here." He stared at Haley's frowning face as Callie walked out with a relieved smile.
"Nothing you have to say can make this okay," Haley said bitterly, not giving him the chance to say a word.
Clay lowered himself onto the couch beside her without an invitation and nodded grimly; "I know," he said softly. "I screwed up, and I'm really sorry, but that's not what I'm here to say." Haley glared at him, and Clay had to suppress a flinch, but he pressed on boldly; "Haley, please stop taking your anger at my mistake out on Quinn," he begged. "I didn't ask her to support me in this, but it means the world to me that she is. She loves you so much; it's not fair to make her choose between us."
He tried to calm her anger with a touch, but Haley shrugged him off furiously; "My husband lost his job because you were spending so much time with Quinn, Clay," she growled. "Don't you dare talk to me about fair!"
"Taking away my job was revenge then, was it?" he sighed helplessly. "This family means everything to me Hales; I was hoping you knew I would never sabotage any of you."
Her gaze remained unmoved, and Clay got to his feet, admitting defeat; "I'm sorry," he said simply. "For what it's worth, I really believe Nathan was worth the four-year contract. I was just trying to get him the best deal possible. If you want to hate me for believing in him, there's really nothing I can do about it."
"No, there really isn't," she reinforced coldly. "We asked you for two things: Get Nathan a deal to play close to home again and stay away from Quinn!" The anger in her eyes held a subtle edge of disappointment that somehow managed to make Clay feel even worse. "You completely failed…please just go," she snapped and averted her suddenly teary gaze once and for all.
Callie was leaning against the passenger door of his car when Clay dejectedly shut the Scott's front door behind him. She smoothed her dress and clenched his keys in her fist at the hurt look on his face, allowing the metal to dig into her palm just to feel a fraction of that pain she hadn't seen in his eyes for almost a year. "She didn't listen, huh?" she asked sympathetically as she handed him the keys and climbed into the car.
"Why would she? I let them all down," Clay muttered dismissively, but his hands shook as he put the car in gear and backed out of the driveway.
"That's not true," Callie said firmly. "It's been an unbelievably tough year for you; they need to understand that."
"That's no excuse," he retorted. "This was my job, and I failed…bound to happen eventually."
Callie stared at him helplessly, and the drive commenced in miserable silence. Before long the red Stingray pulled over in front of the ISC office complex. Just across the street from the office, there was a large park, and the bright red and orange variety of summer daisies adorning its entrance gave Callie a brainwave. She covered his hand on the gear stick and gave it a squeeze; "Can you wait here for a minute? I have something for you upstairs," she said quickly.
"There's no rush to pack up my stuff, Callie," he said, eyeing her with immense gratitude. "Take your time."
"Not your stuff, just trust me," she said vaguely with such a bright smile his spirits felt automatically lifted. "Just give me a few minutes, I'll be right back!" Before Clay could even open his mouth to protest, the blonde pushed open the passenger door and dashed into the office as fast as her high-heeled shoes would allow. With a puzzled grimace, he leaned back and fiddled with his car radio while he waited.
Callie smiled to herself as the elevator carried her up to the reception offices, the very idea of a simple gesture lifting her frustrated mood. Even the sight of Jay leaning back in his swivel chair snapping orders at poor Amber couldn't make her angry with the sudden drive propelling her towards her desk. In the space behind her computer stood a vase of the same red and orange daisies that were blooming in the park opposite the office. Callie huffed as she ripped off the note taped to the vase reminding her that fresh flowers were frowned upon in the building, stupid rules. Well, mission accomplished, they were leaving the building for a good cause now.
"Sorry Mom," she murmured under her breath as she dug around in her messy drawer for some string, even though she really wasn't sorry at all. Jay had finally left Amber in peace, and the redhead watched her curiously as she tied up the daisies into a neat bouquet.
Unable to stop herself, she abandoned her station and wandered over to Callie's desk. "What are you doing, girl?"
"It's July," said Callie simply and Amber frowned uncomprehendingly. "They're for Clay…it's been almost two years."
Her friend's eyes lit up with sudden understanding; "Gosh, you're right. What a rotten time to get fired," she said sympathetically. "My boss wouldn't shut up about it." She shook her head in disgust.
"Exactly," agreed Callie absently. "I feel bad for you; Jay's going to be insufferable now." With that, she left Amber staring admiringly after her as she pushed open the transparent glass door to Clay's former office. On his desk, besides the computer, a framed photograph of him and Sara had pride of place. Callie traced the wooden frame with her finger, feeling sad at the couple's bright smiles as their heads leaned close together. She had only met Sara once, but it was an encounter she would never forget. Some people were very plainly a lot to lose, and that list included the beaming blonde in the photograph.
It was September of 2010 and Callie had only been Clay's assistant at ISC for about a month, her first job fresh out of college. Everything from the constant hustle and bustle to the complex intercom system overwhelmed her at the time, so when a very heavily pregnant blonde approached her reception desk just as the lunch break was starting that day, Callie gulped nervously. "Hi," she'd said cheerfully. "I'm Sara, Clay Evans' wife. Is he around?"
Callie nodded quickly, fumbling with the many confusing buttons on her telephone. "Yes ma'am," she murmured.
Before she could manage to find the right switch to buzz Clay's office, his glass door creaked open, and he emerged in person, quickly ending some business call in astonishment when Sara turned and grinned at him. "What on earth are you doing here, angel?"
"You forgot your lunch," she said simply, holding up a plastic lunch box as proof. "And maybe I just missed my man," she winked, and Callie bowed her head to hide her amusement. "I think I scared your assistant though."
Clay smiled at her and Callie flushed; "Sorry boss. Still getting used to this crazy phone," she mumbled.
"For the last time Callie, I don't bite," he laughed. "And this one definitely doesn't; she didn't actually eat a child for breakfast this morning."
"So rude," Sara punched his arm playfully, and Callie giggled awkwardly. "That's your firstborn in there, you goof!"
"My technically six-month-old firstborn," he agreed, looping his arm supportively around her. "Please tell me you didn't do the two-hour drive from Raleigh just for the sake of my lunch."
"That's so romantic," Callie sighed, and Sara smiled at her approvingly.
"Glad someone appreciates it," she said. "I know you Clay; you would have skipped lunch if I hadn't brought this down." She gave him a gentle nudge in the direction of his office; "Go sit down, it's girl talk time." Callie smiled nervously as Sara held the lunch box out of his reach; "Patience baby, this is coming in time. Sit!" She leaned against Callie's desk with a smirk; "No need to be scared of that one, I'm totally his boss," she giggled. "It's Callie, right?"
"Yes ma'am," Callie nodded, grinning in spite of her nerves. "That was really cool."
Sara held one hand protectively over her baby bump and waved the other dismissively; "Stop with this ma'am nonsense, I'm only twenty-four," she protested good-naturedly. "Call me Sara." She cracked open the lunchbox and pulled out one of the handful of cookies Callie spied inside it. "Want one? Home-made chocolate chip," she said temptingly, and Callie took it gratefully. "Actually, now that I'm here I was hoping I could ask you a favor."
"Anything," Callie said earnestly as she put the cookie carefully to one side for dessert to her own lunch later on.
"Look after him," Sara said seriously, nodding at Clay's office where they could see him back on the phone already. "I know that this job must feel overwhelming to you, but you really don't have to be scared of my Clay. He's great, but he works very hard," she stressed, and Callie could tell at once this worried her. "There are late nights and long hours all the time, I worry about his ambition sometimes," she sighed. "Just make sure he eats and things like that. I don't doubt your organizational talents," she said kindly.
Callie blushed as Clay re-emerged in the doorway to his room; "What's the holdup, angel? All kinds of hungry here," he grinned.
Sara shook her head in exasperation; "Coming you goof, relax." She rolled her eyes knowingly at Callie; "Men, right?"
"Yeah," Callie laughed. "Hey…Sara?" The woman turned to look at her curiously, ignoring Clay's ridiculous pout as he wandered back to his desk. It was probably a good thing most people left the office for lunch, Callie thought to herself. She gulped again, her gaze solemn; "I'll take care of him, I promise."
Sara patted her hand and smiled sincerely; "Thank you," she said softly. "Good luck with all this," she nodded at the complicated telephone and computer crowding Callie's desk. "You're very sweet."
"That's more than enough girl talk," Clay groaned, dragging Sara by the hand into his office. "My turn!" He embraced her carefully; "Besides, you need to sit down," he added insistently.
"I'm pregnant, not a cripple, sweetheart," Sara laughed, keeping her warm gaze on Callie as if they had an inside joke now. It was a nice feeling and gave Callie a burst of courage.
"Congratulations boss," she smiled. "I'm so forcing you to take time off when that baby comes."
Clay gaped at Sara in mock-disapproval; "What have you been telling her, angel? Quit conspiring against me, girls," he huffed.
Sara winked at Callie just before Clay shut the door to his office and nudged her tenderly into his swivel chair. "It's our little secret," she said teasingly, and indeed it was.
Callie blinked away tears at the memory, as Amber knocked frantically on Clay's transparent door: Ken was approaching fast, and she was supposed to be working. "I won't let him down, Sara," she vowed, brushing a speck of dust off the glass shielding the photograph. "Cover for me," she begged Amber quickly as she hurtled past her and grabbed the flowers before pounding down the stairs to avoid meeting the boss in the elevator.
Clay looked up as she teetered in a rush towards his car, curse the obligatory heels. "Hey whirlwind, I hope you're not getting in trouble for this," he said seriously. "Get back to work; there's plenty to do up there without me."
"In a minute," she panted, the dismissive waving away of his concern failing because she was so out of breath. "This is more important to me." She slid back into the passenger seat of his Stingray without an invitation and held out the flowers. "You need to go talk to her…Sara, I mean," she said softly. "Take these."
Clay stared at her, stunned; "Callie, I couldn't possibly…"
"You're not my boss anymore," she reminded him playfully. "How does a gift from a friend sound?" He lowered his gaze, smiling sadly and Callie put the bouquet in his lap and held out her hand. "We are friends, right?"
Clay took her hand and held it solemnly between his own two; "Yes, of course."
"Then do this for me," Callie pleaded. "Sara was so sweet to me; I don't want to break the promise that I would look after you."
"What promise?" Clay asked, puzzled.
"I guess now you know what that lengthy girl talk was about the day she brought you your lunch when she was six months pregnant. She worried about you," she confessed seriously. "Go and tell her she doesn't need to, okay?" Her eyes were blazing with conviction; "I won't let this go without a fight, I swear! Ken's not going to get away with this," she promised heatedly.
"Don't go getting yourself in trouble on my behalf," he said grimly. "Get out for a second." He leaned across her and opened the passenger door, then climbed out from his side as Callie frowned in confusion and did as he asked.
"What was that for?" she asked as he paced around the stationary car to the passenger side.
"Couldn't do this with a gear stick in the way," he said and wrapped his arms tightly around her. "Thank you for everything, Callie. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you're not a total star, okay?"
"You will be my boss again one day, Clay Evans," she swore, squeezing him tightly. "I believe that with all my heart, I wish you would. Nathan Scott was wrong, you hear me?"
"Sara was right," he murmured. "You're ridiculously sweet, and I'm really gonna miss you."
"Go talk to her," Callie repeated insistently, speaking around a painful catch in her throat. "This is not over!" She raised a hand in farewell and backed up regretfully; "I gotta run, work to do," she muttered resentfully.
She turned to rush away, but Clay kept his hand firmly on her shoulder and stopped her. "These were her favorite flowers," he said quaveringly. "How do you do it, Callie Johnson?" He rubbed the moisture stubbornly from his eyes and just missed her shy smile.
"Just lucky I guess. I keep my promises; I'll never give up on you," she vowed. "We can fix this somehow…boss." With that Callie winked at him and squeezed his trembling fingers once more before turning away. Clay stood leaning against his car in the ISC parking lot long after she vanished back inside, deep in thought about the events of the past two days.
"We can fix this," he repeated under his breath, thinking about Quinn's faith in him and Callie's unwavering loyalty. "Troy Jamison, here I come." He glanced at the bright flowers lying on the driver's seat of his car now and actually managed a smile. He had a trip to Raleigh to make after all; "I'll never give up angel, I promise!" he said out loud. It wasn't going to be easy to come out of this mess on top, but then nothing about the past two years had been a walk in the park. This time he wasn't alone, and that made all the difference in the world.
A / N This is my most random bout of inspiration so far. I thought Clay's assistant looked pretty sad over the Clara picture when Quinn showed up at the office to ask for her help so this is a little insight into a possible friendship since he did have a very rough year pre-season 7. Enjoy all! xx