Chapter Thirteen: Without a Call
A/N: Less fluff and more fighting...so enjoy. :P
She's late from work by a half hour. They were supposed to have an evening in, with take-out and movies, and now she's a half hour late with no phone call. Not even a quick text message as an explanation.
He eats his food as hers gets cold.
At first he's calm, then angry, then worried.
He's half past worried and well on his way to near-panic level by the time she gets in. She's almost never late, and he had been imagining all sorts of horrible possibilities. His cop experience had given him too much to be afraid of – what if something happened to her? What if someone...?
Elizabeth comes home at 6:47 and his relief is immediate.
But she's half-smiling as if it was no big deal, the hell she just put him through, and the anger comes as it hasn't in a long time.
"Sorry I'm late," she says casually.
"Where were you?" he demands, and she looks taken aback by his icy tone.
And then she matches it, making her own voice sharp and cutting. "Our meeting ran over."
He tries not to sound so accusatory, but it doesn't quite work. "And you couldn't call me?"
"First off, we were in a meeting. Secondly, – "
"You could have sent a text," he interrupts.
"Secondly, my phone was dead. I forgot to charge it last night."
He's left in silence and is almost ashamed of his behavior, but then he remembers how worried he had been. And he's not ready to let go of that just yet. The images replay in his head: car crashes or crazy murderers, ambulances and hospitals...
He had just been about ready to scour the streets for her.
"Next time, borrow someone's phone." he says, and he steps past her and grabs his coat off the coat rack. He's too angry to stay here; he knows he will just say something he'll regret. The evening seems ruined, anyway. "Your food got cold so I just put it in the fridge." He shrugs into his jacket.
"You're leaving?" Elizabeth asks, and for the first time tonight, there's hurt in her voice instead of just anger.
He avoids her eyes. "Yeah. I just...can't do this right now."
And he feels bad about this, really he does, but not enough to be able to stay. And she doesn't try to make him, he notices.
The evening air is cool and fresh when he steps outside, and he keeps the car window open on the ride home. It should calm him, but it doesn't.
Carlton returns to an empty apartment. He puts on the television to bring some sound into the uncomfortably quiet living room, but he doesn't really watch it. The anger bubbles in the pit of his stomach. How would she feel if I didn't call? She'd be pissed too.
It takes about thirty minutes for him to begin to think that maybe, just maybe, he overreacted.
He stews on that possibility for awhile. He shouldn't have gotten so angry. Her phone was dead; it wasn't her fault.
But then again, he'd been so afraid for her, thinking about crime scenes and all the different ways she could be hurt...she still should have tried to text me from someone else's phone.
And the conclusion: But I didn't have to leave...
He can't stand this.
Carlton grabs his cell phone from off the coffee table and is about to call her when he realizes that he doesn't know what to say. He's never been good at apologies, and he's sure his ex-wife would attest to that fact. Back when he used to try to apologize to Victoria, he was always drawn into another argument somehow, even when it was the last thing he wanted.
And he doesn't want it to end that way now.
He opts for an easier way out, even if it is the coward's way.
For such a short message, it takes awhile for him to compose it. Hey Liz...sorry for overreacting but i was worried. thought something happened to you. But i shouldn't have left like i did. I'm sorry.
He hits the send button before he can regret it.
It takes her only a minute to reply. I didnt mean to make you worry. Call me?
Carlton sends her one last response consisting of "ok" before calling her.
She answers in less than one ring. "Hey," she says. Her voice is soft and calm. He doesn't think she's mad anymore, and he hopes this means that they won't somehow pull each other into another fight.
He breathes in deep. They will be okay. "Hey."
A/N: He walked out because even though he's in a healthy relationship now, he still doesn't really know how to handle fights. Or at least that's how I saw it when I wrote it, haha. And I didn't go into detail about the fight resolution because I wanted it to be open-ended; they do work it out, but maybe not right away, and what they say is entirely up to your imagination now. Reviews keep me going. ;)