Author's note: Despite my reservations on Chris and Street's love relationship, this story came to me after re-watching their kiss scene and would not leave me alone till I wrote it down. So romance it is, and with no more unnecessary delays, I hope you enjoy the reading.
Love, Lies and Claustrophobia
An unnatural silence surrounded Chris and Street as they took the motorway. The LA summer gave its best with long, sunny days and clear skies that amplified the irresistible siren call of the ocean. Maybe it was even too sunny those days. If only their thoughts had been expressed out loud, they would agree that a couple of drizzles or a quick, light rainstorm would not be such bad things to avert the fearsome forest fires in the surroundings.
Where it surely would not burst any kind of fire was in the two cops' car. Surprisingly, Street's arm hair stood up, hence he adjusted the AC's settings. Nothing changed. Not that he expected to, although, he knew way too well that the air conditioning was not the reason of the frost he felt. That uncomfortable sensation came directly from his heart.
No, that was not entirely true. That ice came from his partner's heart in the first place. From his deadly silent partner sitting at his right.
The noise of the engine ringed in the car. Chris' tanned face reflected in the review mirror, but she wasn't the slightest bit interested in looking back at Street. Her eyes glued to the road ahead, her expression was deadly serious.
Even if not a cloud was in the sky, a storm raged in Street's heart. His sun started to fade that infamous night, when he made the decision to not show up at the gala. As half drunk and beaten up for the failure in his mother's search as he was, when Chris showed up at Luca's place she seemed godsend. Then, when the bottle in their hands was empty and alcohol more than blood flowed in their veins, that heartwarming hug connected their bodies in such a comfortable way he didn't want it to end.
Street trusted Chris with everything he had. For some reason, he had confided in her since the very first day they met, so why don't show her his true self then? The instant he sensed those good vibes coming from her too, he gave in to his instinct.
As for the third strike of the evening, he abandoned himself to that so much desired kiss. And she abandoned herself to him too. But then... Who could predict what would have happened next between the two them? For sure, Street didn't expect Chris' reaction.
That cursed kiss, as tempting and warm it was when it happened as motive of regret and heart freezing it was the moment after. He had read such a reaction in her dark eyes. But at that moment, it felt too natural to resist.
Chris laid her forehead on Street's; their eyes locked; their noses grazed. Her lips reached out for his, and he couldn't think other than make it happen. The moment their lips made contact, all his problems were gone, it was all about her. It was his heart beating for her and only her.
Chris kissed him back so ardently that made Street's heart melt and his desire grow. She was in, she felt the same, and he could be sure of that.
And then that cold shower hit Street violently, Chris retracted from his gentle grasp. The look of regret and shame labeled her suddenly pale face. The moment their bodies detached from each other, shock took posses of her, and she became icy in an instant.
Street froze too, and tried to apologize for the heat of the moment, but Chris run away and left him alone, heartbroken and confused. He thought she was in, was it possible he was so drunk he misread his best friend?
That reaction was mind-blowing. Drunk or not, Street knew from the depths of his heart he had not imagined that wave of love and care that crossed them when he grazed Chris' skin and kept her tied to him.
Was it really possible he misunderstood her signals? Street kept asking himself. Was it really possible Chris felt he took advantage of her vulnerable state? But what she probably didn't take into account was that in that moment he was even more vulnerable than her.
Sobered up, Street was ready to apologize again, to swallow his pride and his love and bury all those strong feelings deep down in the bottom of his heart in favor of their friendship. That same friendship that took him above the water level when no one else was there to throw him a life belt. Chris was too important for him to let their bond broke for that stupid mistake. That bond was like oxygen in his lungs, without it, he felt he would suffocate.
But Chris slammed that door in his face; she trampled on his heart over and over. Street never felt more alone in his whole life, and he knew loneliness very well, that was out of the question.
A few, interminable weeks had passed from that ominous night. In the meantime, Street had tried everything he could to gain that friendship back without appearing too suspicious to his other teammates. What was even worse in that whole situation was that he was broken and could not tell anyone about it.
With that kiss, Street hadn't only lost his best friend, he risked to lose his entire family. If the rest of the team knew about what happen between him and Chris, they would surely blame him. And maybe it was all his fault indeed, but in that moment, the vibrations coming from her were real. Those feelings were real, he could swear it and didn't know how she could deny all that.
For a few days now, his friends had started to question the change in attitude the two of them had toward each other. "Nothing changed," they kept repeating, but they all knew it was not true.
Fortunately, the guys were all too busy with their own lives to investigate further in theirs. Hondo had to take care of the injured and hurt Darryl; Deacon had his wife and his four children to think about; Tan was preparing the next step with Bonny; Luca was all focused on helping Kelly and even had the bonus of starting to better know her mother. And for Chris, she had to deal with the new living situation with Ty and Kira, a place he himself pushed her into. The team could easily blame her odd behavior to that.
But what about Street? He had finally found a real family after growing up bounced from foster home to foster home, and suddenly, he had no one to talk to. No one to lay on. He could not vent about his broken relationship with Chris, nor about the whole thing with his mother.
That, the impossible situation with his mom, had been the final blow to him. Finding her in those poor conditions, dosed and delirious, made Street's heart crack and then broke into little pieces. He had to send her back to prison, and he had to make that decision on his own. He was left alone to deal with the look she gave him when she acknowledged he betrayed her again. Yes, again. Like 18 years ago when 12 years old him decided he needed to tell the truth to Buck and made her arrested in the first place.
Now, he didn't have the chance to talk about any of that with any of his friends, even though the situation that had created was a weight his soul could not carry alone. And that load on Street's soul could only increase during that endless and awkward ride with his former best friend in that hot, suffocating summer day.
. . .
The atmosphere in the car was thick. Chris deeply inhaled the humid air that carried with it her partner's comforting scent. For a few seconds, she held her breath, jealously guarding the pleasant memories that smell carried with it.
Why did Street set the air conditioning that low? she asked herself, fighting the impulse of reaching her hand out and regulate the thing on her desire.
Chris could barely stand her own silence now; the sound of her heart regularly beating reverberated in her chest while a million thoughts filled her mind. She forced herself to keep her look on the road ahead, but secretly, her eyes continued to shift to her side. Every time the tail of her eye detected a distracted Street, she stole him a glance.
Her will was not demonstrating as strong as she thought it was. In her heart, the need of having her best friend back made its voice heard so loud that not give up to it was challenging.
In that stillness, hypnotized from the appearing of the asphalt equal everywhere, Chris' mind started to wander, and suddenly, she was in the SWAT kitchen, alone with Street.
"I will do anything to gain your trust back," he said.
I trust you with my soul, she thought. "I trust you with my life on the job, but other than that, the door is closed," she said instead, while a sharp pain squeezed the pit of her stomach .
"I will never, ever do something to intentionally hurt you, Chris, believe me," Street insisted. His eyes cried for forgiveness, something he should not even have to ask in the first place. "I promise that what happened that night will never happen again, but I can't lose you like this."
I don't want to lose you either! she thought, but once again her mouth transmitted the opposite message. "What is done is done. And you can't lose something you never had."
The look on Street's face then was something that left an eternal mark on her soul. Standing a few feet from him, Chris could practically hear his heart scattering into pieces.
She succeeded in putting distance between them little by little, every day more. But Street was stubborn, and when he loved, he loved all the way through. He kept trying and trying, and Chris kept refusing him every time, but that little game was becoming exhausting. For both of them, she suspected.
But could she tell Street the truth? Could she tell him how frightened she was about the profound love he made her feel?
Chris' answer was no.
How could she explain to him she was doing all that only for him? That she had to push him away to not let him running the risk to waste all he fought so hard for in the last months of his life? How could she let him risk to lose the family he had dreamed about practically all his life?
She couldn't. Chris needed to keep her heart inaccessible to Street. For his own sake.
. . .
A chill crept up Street's spine at the impression Chris was looking at him. He turned. She wasn't. Not right at that moment at least, but that disturbing sensation didn't go away. A little dizziness accompanied the movement of his head, and his heart started beating out of control.
Come on, Jim, dominate your senses, he ordered himself. You know the drill, just breathe deeply. It's all good. He focused on those thoughts, but suddenly, the simple gesture of filling is lungs become challenging, and sweat dripped from his forehead. Should I adjust the AC over? Before he moved a single muscle, another shiver invested him. No, the temperature stays as it is, he decided.
I wonder if Chris had noticed my struggles. Street once more glanced at her through the review mirror, but not a single sign of concern was on her face. He clenched the wheel in his hands, his limbs oddly numb. Before that cursed kiss, Chris would have instantly known he was feeling trapped in the metal tomb that car was becoming to him. To be completely honest, back then Street would have never felt oppressed by sitting in a car with his best friend. But she wasn't his best friend anymore, and her bitter attitude was really starting to take him down.
In the last few weeks, Street tried everything in his power to gain back that connection with Chris, but today, his body declared he could not go on like that anymore. I give up! he had thought just a few minutes prior, after his last attempt to strike up a normal conversation with her fell on deaf ears.
Silence iced Street's heart. He could not give up for real, the affection he had for Chris was too deep-rooted. His hands continued to firmly hold the wheel while the arctic atmosphere penetrated in his bones. His eyes diverted from the LA roads to glance at his side, where Chris sat, look fixed out the window, to land, then, on the review mirror and search for her reflection. Street constantly tried to spot his partner's grave expression, praying any minute that it would change, but it never happened.
"We're here." Those were the words that finally broke that wintry stillness.
Chris' reaction was once again distant. She imperceptibly nodded, and without looking at him, got out of the car.
A heat wave smacked Street as he stepped a foot out of the metal door. As much as he needed to put his nose out of that cramping vehicle, as he did sweltering air burned his lungs for a couple seconds. He was not prepared for that. It was not the kind of warmth he desired to sense.
But finally, the two cops were their destination, and the immense building was ready for them. They just needed to enter from the main door and get the job done. Then, they could finally go back to the HQ and take separate paths.
Chris threw an impatient glare at him, any intention Street could have to spit a joke to ease that tensed atmosphere died in that dreadful look.
While he caught his breath, Street's eyes quickly inspected the surroundings. The numerous windows the house had reverberated the bright sun rays, and every little detail from the roof tiles to the farthest corner of the garden was exceptionally well-kept. No wonder why someone decided to break in, this place is magnificent, Street thought, a little more security though... The sound of Chris' voice clearing abruptly took him back to the reality.
A deafening silence welcomed the two of them more at every step they made toward the entrance. The scent of the garden's flowers penetrated in Street's nostrils, carried by a blow of tepid wind. At his side, the ice block his former best friend was; it would have taken much more than that gentle breeze to melt her heart.
Suddenly, another smell reached Street's nose; it was the unmistakable smell of blood. A shiver run down his spine. Immediately, the two SWAT officers exchanged a look. Something wasn't right, the door was ajar.
Street's hand dropped down to his tight to grab his gun, and Chris mimed him. They imperceptibly nodded to each other, a silent agreement they were ready to get in on the action. Like old times, Street thought. Like when the words weren't needed because they could read each other's mind, and not like now where the words feared to be spoken between them.
A few steps inside, a man laid face down on the ground. Chris knelt, sensed his pulse, and looked up to Street. Her look was clear, it was a corpse. Mr. Reel was not going to give them the information Hondo demanded. But that was not their main issue. Now, they had to catch who did that, especially if they were still in the property.
Chris promptly took the radio in her hand to follow the protocol and call for backup. That was the right course of action, but before she could even open her mouth, a noise from the other room drew the two SWAT officer's attention.
Side by side, they started to follow the blood traces and slink to were the noise came. Then another crashing sound, and right after, a dreadful quiet. Chris and Street locked eyes for an instant before turning the corner.
Another loud noise; the echo of a gunshot. A fierce pain hit Street and blinded his senses for an instant. Then a thump resounded, taking him back; a door just closed behind them.
Following that frantic moment, the stillness of a snow day in the desert surrounded the two cops. Now, in Street's soul there was only silence, pain and fear.
. . .