Chapter Text
Cha-Cha was—outside of his rather brutal work environment—quite a gentle and caring man to those he loved. He owned a dog—whom Hazel often saw when they were done with work or granted the freedom of a day off—named Callie. He adored her, she was his everything. Who would've thought this bloodthirsty, sadistic assassin would turn to complete mush around a dumb little Labrador? Hazel often joked about Cha-Cha loving Callie more than he loved him, and every time, Cha-Cha would smile and give Hazel a soft kiss and a tender, "Of course not, Hazzie".
Regardless, he would do anything to protect his dog. She was his daughter, his baby, his little ball of golden fur who curled up to him after work and slept at the end of his bed when he wasn't feeling his best—his bundle of joy who loved everyone. He swore from the day he rescued her from that shelter that he'd never let anything or anyone hurt her ever again.
Sadly, love and a promise doesn't stop a car going 20 kilometres over the speed limit of 110km/h.
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Cha-Cha was barely a few houses away from his own after work when he saw the blood smeared across the road. It was dark and red and obviously quite fresh. He didn't question it at first and pulled into his driveway—cats and foxes were always hit on this side of town. He got his stuff out of the car and into the house, and he went outside to check it out, assuming it was another cat. But as soon as he saw the limp smudge of gold and red bundled in the gutter, blood staining the yellow and creating a start contrast of colour against the asphalt, his stomach tightened and twisted and he felt dread and fear and despair pooling in his intestines as he suddenly found himself speed-walking towards it.
No, no, no, please, no, don't be Callie, please, don't be Callie, pl-
No...no, this isn't real. He felt sick. He felt devastated. He felt angry. He felt the need to throw up. He felt all four at once. He could see her brains, mushed against the gutter, and her skull caved in like a flower blooming in the spring. Suddenly he was frozen and he couldn't breathe and the tears were building up in his eyes as he ran into the house, past Hazel and into the bathroom and collapsing in front of the toilet, puking his guts out and sobbing until he couldn't cry anymore and Hazel was holding him close, whispering soft words into his ear.
"Hey, hey, Cha, it's...it's okay, baby..." No, it's not. It never was and it never will be.
"Take deep breaths, Pipes...in, and out..." Does it look like he's in the right position to do that? His dog's just been killed and mutilated, he can't breathe, and he can feel even more bile rising in his throat already by just thinking about it.
"Piper, please, i-it'll be okay, I-I promise, just...breathe, please..." Hazel sounds like he's trying to convince himself more than Cha-Cha.
He eventually gives up and pulls him in for a tighter hug, and eventually Cha-Cha's uncontrollable, body-shaking sobs have turned to quiet sniffles and occasional, soft sobs.