Work Text:
Caitlyn loved watching her work. Tons of papers and files were scattered across the room’s floor. The girl methodically moved them back and forth, grouping some and separating others, pausing occasionally to write some reminders on the fields or tag them with sticky notes. She was sitting on her heels, her hands moving erratically, lips pressed against the tongue sticking from the corner of her mouth.
Caitlyn knew there was an order to this chaos—a system that made her lieutenant one of the most productive members of the force. It always seemed alien to her, though, as it was the very opposite to how Caitlyn herself used to work by giving each material an undiluted attention one at a time. Their methods couldn’t have been more different, but they balanced each other perfectly. Whenever Caitlyn became obsessed with small details, her lieutenant would always pull her out and provide a broader perspective she desperately needed. It was almost as if the girl complemented her in every way. Or was made and ordered to.
The last thought snapped Caitlyn back to the reality. Their relationship had been strictly professional ever since both of them returned to the force, but her lieutenant was a shell of her past self. These silent, late-working evenings had become unbearable for Caitlyn, with all the pretending they had to go through. She let out a slow sigh and leaned in.
“Does it… hurt?”
“Huh?” The girl answered in a rather unbothered tone. She shifted her attention toward the couch where Caitlyn was lying and lifted her eyebrows. “Oh, this.” She promptly raised her hand and touched the gnarly scar on her forehead. “No.” Her fingers traced the contour a few times. “No, it doesn’.”
Caitlyn’s eyes remained focused on the wound. She remembered how uneasy she felt when her lieutenant didn’t show up to work that morning. She was never late, she'd thought, feeling something was off. She remembered rushing toward the apartment, how she had found her lying unconscious in the bathroom—remembered the dread that surged through after breaking in, the trembling of her fingers as she checked for the pulse and cradled the girl’s limp head, the muffled sound of her screams for help, and the relentless pounding of her own heart. They managed to bring her back that time, but the truth was clear—the bullet sure took its time, but now finally began enacting its grim and inevitable sentence.
“It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“The doctors said otherwise. The bullet is still in there, what if it’s killing you? Had I not found you in time that day—”
“It doesn’ matter. I’m grateful to be alive as it is.”
Are you? There were times when Caitlyn thought it was easy to read her lieutenant and what was on her mind. She had always seemed such a pure and simple soul, always the optimist in the group—naive and stupidly loyal to a fault. But was there ever such a person to begin with? Now Caitlyn wasn’t sure. Now she could never be sure. That thought drilled into her and wouldn’t let go.
The girl shook her head, got up onto her knees and began collecting the scattered documents. “I should probably go. We can finish this tomorrow. I will brin’ report from Gregg’s department too. He said it should be ready by mornin’. Won’t hurt to go o’er it as well.”
“Makes sense,” No, nothing made sense anymore.
“See ya’ tomorrow then, aye?” She picked up the stack of papers and slowly rose to her feet.
Caitlyn remained silent. It can’t continue like this. They stared at each other for a moment. The girl finally let out a short breath, turned around, and went toward the door. Caitlyn imagined this was the last time she would see her. Something heavy inside of her churned at the thought.
“Wait!” Caitlyn was surprised at how her voice snapped across the room. She found herself standing, one arm outstretched. “Do you…” Caitlyn lowered the arm and took a deep breath, regaining some of the composure back. “Do you miss anything? You know, from the time before…” Before you pulled the trigger.
The girl stopped. “It wasn’ real. Our time before that is. So it doesn’ matter.” She didn’t turn to face Caitlyn, her voice stiff and strained. “I should be goin’.” She took another step and reached for the doorknob.
A new memory surfaced. They were now walking along the pier. Caitlyn remembered the breeze, the beautiful colors of a distant sky in the evening sun and how much pain and regret she carried next to her heart at the time, how removed she felt from the world around. She remembered a sudden sensation of being spun around and pulled in, remembered the girl’s lips pressed against hers, the furry eyebrows tickling her skin, the confusion that rose within as she pushed the girl away, the sudden offense she took at such insolence. And the face the girl made in response…
“Maddie used to smile more,” Caitlyn said and made the girl pause on the other side of the room once more. “She used to have that stupid cheerful grin, without a single worry in the world. Real or not, I think I miss that the most. Had Maddie been here with us, I’d like her to smile more.”
Caitlyn felt something budge inside. The weight wouldn’t let her go yet, but the sudden moment of ease felt nice. The tension filled the air as she watched the girl across hesitate in her movements again.
“Mornings.”
Mornings? Girl’s sudden response felt distant, but the stiffness in her tone eased off. She took her arm away from the doorknob and brought the stack of papers to her chest.
“Had Maddie been here, she would probably say it’s the mornings she is missing the most,” she added now with a little bit more voice to it. “It just felt good to wake up next to someone for a change, you know?” She turned around and Caitlyn couldn’t help but notice a glint of shimmering light in her eyes that wasn’t there before. “You probably didn’ know, but…” She lowered her head, shifting her gaze toward the corner of the room as a touch of red ran across her cheeks. “But Maddie used to wake up way earlier than you did. And she would just lie there, counting the heartbeats and holding her breath, savoring your touch and warmth against hers. She was afraid it could all go away if she so much as twitched or moved wrong.”
The papers in her hands made a rustling sound against her chest. She lifted her head and Caitlyn finally got a good look at her. She could now clearly see it all—the slightly parted lips, the rising movements of her chest, the pleading look behind young girl’s watery eyes, a blushing behind the freckles on her cheeks. She looked so tiny and vulnerable in the moment, as if she had said too much and already regretted doing so, as if she opened up about something she should’ve kept to herself, or otherwise risked being hurt again.
Again. The realization hit Caitlyn hard. She remembered how many times she had neglected her, taking her feelings for granted. How she kept making it all about herself, piling up excuse after excuse while distancing herself further and further away. How hard the girl fought for what little they still had before it all fell apart. And how quickly Caitlyn used the betrayal to carve this girl out of her life and label it all a lie so that she herself could escape a simple truth—it felt real. And it had hurt in the end. Hurt both of us.
The girl came to her senses first. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“But that’s only if she had actually been here, right?” Caitlyn was fast to interrupt and gave the girl the most reassuring smile she could find. It’s ok, there's still time. We'll find time, I promise.
The fear in the girl’s eyes turned into confusion, then she let out a soft sigh. Her eyes became dreamy as she lowered them toward the floor. “I suppose so, yes.” She shook her head once more before straightening up and giving Caitlyn a slight nod. “So, tomorrow then, Captain?”
Caitlyn nodded in response and watched the girl leave the apartment. It seemed like—if only for a moment—Maddie had paid her a visit tonight after all.