"But then you never would have met me."
The words reverberate in Street's head as loud as the gunshot that lodged in Chris's vest. They replay even hours later, long after his comment in the locker room that he buried the sincerity of underneath a wry smile. He can't stop seeing her against the wall of that apartment complex or hearing her struggling to breathe.
After today, he knows that the pain of never meeting her is dwarfed by just the threat of knowing her like he does, and losing her.
Sighing, he pushes the covers off his legs and walks quietly to the living room in the dark, not wanting to disturb Luca or Duke. His phone is on the table like an oasis in the desert, and he's dialing her number before he's even closed his bedroom door.
It seems to ring forever. He winces when he finds the bright green of his alarm clock and it reads past eleven, but he can't bring himself to hang up and possibly lose the chance to hear her voice, either.
"Hello?" Chris's groggy voice comes over his speaker, saving him from resigning to futile attempts at sleep. Cool relief flows through him and he takes a deep breath. She's okay.
"Hey. Sorry, I didn't realize the time. I just wanted to see how you were doing?"
He hopes she's too tired to see through the half-truth, but she huffs a laugh, and he knows he could never be so lucky.
"Couldn't do that over text?"
Sucking in a breath, his exhale releases all the tension he's been holding for hours. His fingers twist in his comforter. They're too close for him to pretend now anyway.
"Honestly, I wanted to hear your voice."
Her smile practically shines through the phone. Something soft and a little exasperated that he's only ever seen when she's looking at him.
"I told you, I'm good."
"I know," he rushes. "Badge of honor and all that."
"Yeah," she yawns. "Are you okay?"
Her question takes him back, only able to produce a low hum as he debates telling her that today was one of the scariest days of his life.
"It's not a trick question." She adds a moment later, and her teasing is like finding gold after her clipped "The op's not over," earlier.
"I am now."
"Good," she exhales, her voice getting softer. "Thanks for having my six out there."
The weight that's been sitting on his chest since she was hit floats away. He hadn't realized, until she absolved him of it, how much guilt was sitting next to the terror. Her breathing is even as, he's sure, she's waiting for him to say he always will. He can't bring himself to.
"Street, it's not your fault, you know that?"
"If I—"
"Uh uh," she demands, immediately more awake. "We were under heavy fire in their territory. There's nothing you could've done to prevent what happened, and you kept me on my feet until the team got there to help."
Her scolding might annoy him if they didn't have the day they did. If it didn't make him realize, again, how amazing and powerful she is. It's hard not to get hooked on the anchor that always leads to the memory of their lips meeting, but she's still breathing on the other end of the line. He nods even though she can't see it, exhaling softly.
"Then you're welcome, I guess."
Her laugh is worth it.
"That's what I thought. You're sure you're alright?"
"Yeah, yeah." Street says, too quickly for her to not see right through it. He rolls onto his side and tucks his free arm under his pillow. The Los Angeles night stretches between them in the airwaves. It pushes him to drop his voice lower. "I really admire you, Chris, you know that?"
"Thanks," she whispers back after a long moment. He smiles at the sound of the shy smile in her tone. Never one to take compliments, he thinks. "If you're okay, I should really take some more ibuprofen and get some more sleep before tomorrow. Early morning."
"Yeah." He's calmer this time. "Although I don't think any of us will blame you if you're a few minutes late. Good night, Chris."
"Night, Street. Thanks for checking up."
She ends the call before he can respond—before they get sucked into another endless loop of poorly hidden meanings in too few words. He's as grateful as he is confused, and he flips back onto his back, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts swim.
What if they can never be together how he hopes to? What if he'd lost her today? What if he still does, somehow; if she walks away like everyone else has or something splits them up by force.
Why does it feel like his life is more with living now than it ever has been, despite how much scarier it all is?
"Calm down," he whispers to himself, desperate to get his heart rate to settle. "You're okay. She's okay."
He repeats it until it sinks in, and then some more until her voice overtakes his in his mind, and he falls asleep.
hey y'all! thanks for reading- i hope you loved this one!
first, go read overreaction by sandyfin; the fic that inspired all this that's also based off 3x21 that is one of the best things ever. i can't believe it took me this long to finally get to el diablo lol.
second, to the person who, many moons ago, asked for a post 3x21, i hope this did what you wanted! it was incredibly fun for me to write. even though it's not as long as many of the other pieces in this work, i really feel like it has some of the deepest emotions out of anything i've written, which i hope came through to all you beautiful readers, too. there's something about all the negative space of them being on a phone call that really ups the tension in my opinion, and it was a fun space to write in for sure.
as always, comments are loved and read fifty five million times; they def keep me going lol. suggestions/prompts are welcome, and feel free to say hello on tumblr streakyglasses! still trying to figure out the discord situation lol.
lastly, thanks for all the well wishes regarding my recovery- i got more good news today, so feeling good and hoping to channel this energy into some more writing! i'll have another tumblr prompt up soon, and an update of aost this weekend.
all my love! xo, A