tw: slight implications of disassociation

I can't breathe, Chris thinks, before the white-hot pain in her chest gets worse and panic wipes every thought from her mind. Her breaths become shallower the more she tries and fails to get oxygen. Hot tears escape of their own volition, her eyes squeezing shut against the agony.

A gasp escapes when she tries to shift onto her side to see if that will help, the comforter bunching underneath her uncomfortably, and she falls onto her back again. Her hand shoots out in search of anything to ground her. When she finds Street's arm, she pushes against it with the little strength she has as the hyperventilating worsens.

"What? Chris?" Street mumbles. He's groggy and blinks against the darkness, coming to as she continues her assault on his shoulder.

"Chris? Chris!" He jumps into action, her jagged breathing pulling him from the remains of sleep. He flips the light on and looks her over for anything outwardly wrong, but finds nothing. Her eyes are unfocused and full of fear when she looks at him.

"What's wrong, Love?" But she just manages to shake her head, black dots beginning to invade her vision all too similar to the last time—to when she didn't wake up until she did, in a sterile white hospital room.

"Can't breathe," she wheezes.

His eyes widen as possibilities run through his mind. Another gasp from her has him moving before he can think, helping her sit up and gathering her against his chest so he can put pressure on her ribs.

The second his hands are on her side, it's like a mountain of weight fades away. Her heart is still beating out of her chest, but the relief is enough to help her draw in a full breath. His lips are soft against her forehead and his chest is warm against her, grounding her as her focus turns to getting enough air. Slowly, she relaxes.

"Are you okay?" He murmurs into her hair after another minute. Adrenaline is pounding in his veins, his eyes catching a bleary four twenty-eight am on the clock before refocusing on her.

"Yeah, I think so." She says, voice scratchy.

"Do you need water?" The pain has slowed to a dull ache, though when Street starts to move, she yelps.

"No! Please just stay there."

"Okay, it's okay! I've got you." He settles her back against him, listening for any changes, but her breathing sounds okay. He feels her body melt into his when he holds her tighter, glad to see for himself that she's really calming down. Briefly letting go with one hand, he draws the quilt up from the foot of the bed to shake out over both of them.

"Did you have a nightmare?" He rests his cheek on her head, his chin mussing his hair.

"No," she coughs painfully and he rubs her back until the fit passes. "I woke up and I couldn't breathe. Damn ribs." The last of the terror still audible, he rocks them to soothe it away, counting under her breathing exercises as she talks herself through them.

"I can get you your meds, if you think you're okay?" He asks after a few minutes of watching her, until the line between her brows has relaxed.

Nodding, she maneuvers herself out of his arms and back against the headboard. He slips out from behind her and she watches as he disappears into the hallway, wrapping her arms around herself to keep her breaths supported.

Immediately, a sense of unease makes her stomach curdle. The shadows coming through the blinds are too long, and she's hyper aware of each inch of her skin that's covered in sweat.

Her head swivels and finds the photo of her family on her nightstand. It's in a different frame, the glass one perfect piece instead of what she shattered across the carpet, and it feels wrong. Still, she picks it up and doesn't care about smudging it with her thumbprints. She and Tomas are on either side of her Aunt and Uncle, Mirabel in the middle, and she calms herself with the reassurance that they're far out of harm's way.

Padding back down to her room, he stops in the doorway when he sees her in the middle of a moment. Her shoulders are too tense for his liking, the thinnest layer of tears covering her irises, but his heart swells as she talks herself through whatever's got her and sees herself to the other side.

"Got it," he breaks the moment carefully. Trading the pills for the picture, he sets it back in its place and resumes his position behind her. Even in his short time away, he can tell her ribs are again starting to protest, and sets his head on her shoulder as he wraps her up tighter.

"Thank you." She says with a kiss. His only response is to pull her immeasurably closer.

His hand runs over her arm to break up the goosebumps that have made a home there. Looking down a moment later, he sees she's fallen back asleep and smiles to himself.

Chris wakes to the smell of breakfast, but before she's able to get up, Street is walking into her bedroom with a tray in hand. A blush creeps up her neck, though she rolls her eyes in turn and murmurs that he didn't have to do this.

"I know." He says in a sweet tone, kissing the fading bruises on her neck and then setting the food on her lap. "But I wanted to."

He saddles up next to her and sneaks bites, which makes her nudge at him with her elbow. The first wisps of contentment wrap around her. She leans into them gratefully, looking at him for something to talk about.

"Luca asked if I could walk Duke today since they're on a double. Want to come with?" He asks earnestly, but catches her biting her lip at the offer. His dimples disappear as he isn't sure where to look. "You don't have to. It might be nice to get outside."

"No, it will." She says quickly. "But I still look like this. Not sure that I want whoever's out in the neighborhood to see that."

His lips form a tight line and she watches his jaw clench. She distracts herself by savoring the salty bacon, delicious after days of hospital food.

"I'd offer a ride on my bike to get some air," he finally says, teasing softly, "but I doubt that's a good idea."

Chris lets out a small chuckle and then exhales slowly as her ribs protest, shaking her head to keep him at bay.

"I'm okay. And it's fine, go walk Duke later. I'll be fine for an hour. I'll call my family."

That gets a real smile out of him, one she's so happy to see that it inspires her own. He nods, stealing another bite of food.

They sit in relative silence while they finish eating. Under the covers, her knee brushes up against his leg and sends a small shiver up her spine. Her hand finds his once she's finished, head sliding into the space between his head and shoulder with a sigh. Both are content to just be, and he draws slow lines up her back while her eyes flutter every so often.

"I'm not going to the house probably for another few hours if you want to go back to sleep." He murmurs into her hair, not wanting to disturb the peace in the air. She turns so her nose is against his neck and nods.

He pulls her further onto his lap and wraps his arm around her waist tight enough to make her breathing easier. Her hair is soft and ticklish on his skin. When his eyes cast down, they catch sight of a thin, pink line almost flush with her hairline, the final remnants of a blow to the head that twists his stomach into knots.

A kiss to the spot eases a bit of his own anxiety and she sighs contentedly against him, breath hot. His free hand travels up and down her arm underneath the soft covers. Before she can process it, she's asleep.

She's beginning to hate waking up. It's overwhelming, the dread that immediately fills her, and she berates herself for being scared of what's around the corner.

Careful as she gets out of bed, she braces herself on the nightstand and moves slowly in an attempt to not aggravate her already-sore body. Nothing alarming appears as she scans the room, but against her will her heartbeat speeds up. Moving along the wall, she turns the knob and is surprised when sunlight floods down the hall and into the room.

Calm down. Chris chides herself, continuing her descent down the hallway. When she turns towards the living room, Street is scrolling on his iPad. He looks up at her with a soft smile and walks to meet her.

"Hey." He says, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. She hugs him back but furrows her brow in confusion as a headache starts to pinch at her temples.

"What time is it?" She mumbles.

"Almost noon. I went to walk Duke around ten and you were still asleep when I got back at eleven."

Surprise crosses her face as she processes how long she was asleep. Street runs a hand through her hair and asks if she's hungry.

"I stopped at that smoothie place you like. Strawberry kiwi in the fridge for you."

"Sure," she answers, still distracted. They separate and he grabs the drink while she settles back onto the couch, flipping on the TV.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," she says, throwing her feet over his lap and taking a sip. "Surprised I was out for so long. Thanks for this. How's Duke?"

Street smiles, dimples shining, and says he's good. He decides not to press despite the urge to.

"Getting better on the leash, and I ran through the commands you've been teaching him. Thanks for doing that in English, by the way."

She rolls her eyes but laughs all the same.

"And the team?" Her eyes flit to her new phone where it sits, dead on the coffee table, the notion to charge it alluding her in the midst of her concussion. Street follows her gaze and plugs it in.

"They're good, everyone at HQ misses you. They're off this weekend, so I think Luca's going to do something at the house if you're up for it?"

He watches her carefully for any involuntary indication of pain or anxiety, but finds none when she shrugs. It doesn't ease any of his own, though, the thought of the numbness she might be wading through instead.

"Sure. I'll shoot him a text once my phone's charged."

A beat of silence follows, Chris gazing loosely out the window until the sunlight starts to give her a headache.

"Any updates on the case?"

He knows her well enough to see that, even though her voice and eye contact are steady, she's nervous to hear what he has to say. He runs a hand over her calf to try to comfort her, sighing.

"Still in the preliminary hearing stage. Most of them are being held without bail."

"Most?"

"There were a few younger ones. This was their first offense, and even with the severity of the situation, they weren't mentioned in anyone's statements, so they're most likely lower-level drug dealers, protection who stayed on the upper floor. Bail was set, but I don't think any of them have posted it."

Chris nods, feeling the information settle into her stomach like a lead weight. Needing a distraction, she concentrates on the plastic straw between her lips, and the cold, thick smoothie. She can't help but think about the better distraction sitting not two feet away.

"Smoothie's good." She says, with enough of a tone that it makes him lock the iPad and face her.

"Yeah?" Street challenges, a smirk of his own gracing his face.

"Yeah," Chris answers. Her eyes flick down to his lips as butterflies start to flit around her stomach. "Do you want to—"

Before she can finish, his lips are on hers.

One of her hands finds the nape of her neck, the other the small of her back. She tastes sweet, sugar from the smoothie stuck on her mouth, and his heart starts to beat out of his chest with emotion.

Gently, he guides her body down until her back is resting against one of the throw pillows. Her eyes open and meet his, sparkling in a way that makes a fire start to kindle in his stomach.

His hunger grows as she moans against him and murmurs to keep going when he pulls back just enough to take a breath. Her hands are resting on either side of his face, keeping him locked where he's hovering above her.

Spurred on by her, his mouth travels south and leaves a trail of kisses over her neck. The fabric of her shirt rides up where his fingers dance over her skin. He doesn't linger over the bandages, and she doesn't seem to care either way, too busy tangling her fingers in his hair.

"Is this okay?" He asks, voice raspy and his breath hot against her. She nods, a whine of approval escaping as he maneuvers her from on her back to straddling his lap. Her hands work at pulling his shirt over his head, while he slips the undone button-up from her shoulders to leave her only in a sports bra.

His fingers splay over her bare back and hers wrap tight around him, pressing their chests together. She looks over his face for another moment, taking in his dimples and the flecks of brown in his eyes, before wanting overtakes her and she crashes their lips together again.

She's just beginning to roll her hips against him when a stabbing pain in her ribs pulls her back to reality and a hiss escapes on his lips.

"Chris?" Street pulls back, concerned, and searches her face for what's wrong. Her lips are swollen, face flush and both of their chests heaving, hers just catching at the end of every breath.

"I'm okay," she wheezes, pained. He wraps her the rest of the way in his arms until she sighs out in relief and pulls her fingernails out of his shoulders. Catching sight of the small marks indenting his skin, she murmurs an apology against him.

"I'm fine, Chris." He's frowning, his tone guilty as he continues. "I'm sorry. We shouldn't have gone that far. I just missed you so much."

Breathing even, she leans back enough to lift his face so they're making eye contact.

"It's not your fault—I wanted to, too. I'm okay."

But her words only serve to put tears in his eyes. She cradles his cheek, desperate to make things okay again as concern rushes through her like a wave.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Shaking his head and letting out an uneven breath, Street demands himself to get it together.

"Noth—"

"No." She caresses his cheekbone with her thumb. "Please, talk to me."

Her eyes are soft when he finally meets them, begging him to open up to her, and it spills out like a flood when a dam breaks,

"We-I almost lost you, Chris. God, I can't lose you. I'm so sorry we didn't find you sooner, that I didn't check in again."

His words shock her, but then his tears are hot on her skin and she follows her instincts to hold him closer and run her fingers through his hair, shushing him. Mind racing for what to say, the words eventually find their way out.

"No, Street, hey. Hey, listen to me," her voice gains strength, brushing away his tears with her thumbs. "You won't lose me. You, the team, did everything to find me and you did. I'm—I'll be okay, okay?"

Words are still escaping him, so he nods instead and clears his throat. Gently, she buries his face in her shoulder and stays exactly where she is until he's calm, continuing to shush him and focus on his hands on her sides. Her apartment is exactly the same but undeniably different from when she was ripped out of it however many days ago, and she takes a deep breath of her own to settle back into the space, truly, for the first time since being discharged.

"You okay?" She checks one more time, waiting for his nod before moving from his lap to next to him.

"As long as you are," he says, voice soft and hand squeezing hers. Chris smiles small and pulls the blanket Deacon gave her from the back of the couch to settle around their shoulders.

"I'm okay. How about a movie before dinner?"

"Sure."

Picking up the still-half-full smoothie from the table, Chris hands him the remote, leans against his shoulder, and takes a sip.

hey, y'all

well, remember when i said i was going to start this year with this update and then i... didn't? better late than never, right?

any who, i hope you all enjoyed this chapter! a little softer, a little flirty (as they deserve). one of my goals this year really is to fall back in love with this fic, and that probably means updating it more often even if the chapters aren't perfect. i just started it so long ago (like probably a year before i ever even published, if not longer) and spent so much time reworking the first chapters, that now i feel like nothing else will live up to those. but i also want to finish this ride out and give it the proper closure it deserves. so, i promise to do my best to make that happen.

in the meantime, i'd love to know what y'all think! and feel free to join the swat discord as well! we'd love to have you. until next time.

xx, A