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Caleb:
starter for @quanticobled
it wasn’t unusual that he REMAINED far from the loop that his former classmates spun around him – breaking free of that cycle had been the only thing that had kept him ALIVE after new york. she keeps him informed in her own way, his phone lighting up at all ours of the night, his chest ACHING each time he saw her name flash across the screen. he rarely answered – he didn’t trust himself to, not when the BOND that once buzzed with life was too easy to resuscitate. the tangled web they all still existed in was suffocating even more so since the night alex called & dropped a bomb in his lap ( she NEVER could manage to blow her own life apart without taking them all with her ). shelby booth – the sound of it making his throat clog & his stomach TURN, he had booked a flight before he had even processed the idea, hoping that parrish had been wrong, over reacting as she did when booth was involved. instead he was greeted with the sight of shelby in white, & it had NEARLY been enough to wash away the anger & replaced it with sorrow. luckily he never did do well with finding footing in a full range of emotion – instead he could focus on the hurt & turn it into QUICK wit that acted like salve to the gaping wound in his chest with her fingers dripped with crimson.
he SHOULD have figured it to be a lie – he was willing to demolish any structure for his truth to fly free, but she had always been PREPARED to hang dig a grave for her lies to hide in. when booth first called, he let it ring, more ANNOYED that his number was in the hands of the fbi’s most wanted reject but it was the message that had a bag packed & a flight booked before his ears were freed of booth’s robotic tone. guilt shakes his core & widens the cracks in the foundation, she had been HURT – again, & he hadn’t known. selfishly avoiding a life that called to him like a siren, punishing him the most PROFOUND of ways by going after her when he ignored the tempting song. digits press into the bridge of his nose, his head THROBBING after the hours of anticipation of seeing her again. this time it wasn’t under the pretense of falsely reigniting their flame to keep her from yet another haas’ bed post or saving her ass from her own determination to burn to ash in her own SELF DESTRUCTION. the stop to his hotel had been brief only long enough to share an insightful conversation with everyone’s least favorite rouge that landed him directly in front of the gates of HELL.
the ice that he encased himself in begins to THAW the second she opens the door & he catches a glimpse of the bruises that have turned milky porcelain to a portrait of indigo & violet. they should have called him SOONER. ❝ from goldilocks to million dollar baby, guess you really do get around. ❞ slipping through the space that had barely been left between her & the cracked door he invited HIMSELF in. the air too heavy & no amount of sarcasm would lessen that – not that it ever stopped him from trying. her walls REMINDED him of the ones that remained sheltered in during their time at quantico, void of most personal collections – he figured it had SOMETHING to do with her never ending search to find the right bed, but always seemingly to fall short. then again, maybe if she had VENTURED out of the family pool for once she wouldn’t be drowning in regret ( a haas speciality ). turning to face her, his jaw unclenching to spew the VENOM that had been eating his insides, she was alone & he almost thinks it would have hurt less if she HADN’T been. ❝ shouldn’t booth be here ? or am i just in time for another episode of sister wives ? ❞
𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐄. 𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊. For a moment there, she had thought that those were going to be the last words she’d ever hear. A gun held to her head. A millisecond away from death. A breath away from being to just being gone. All those books, stories, movies, all that stuff about 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 was total bullshit. None of that happened. There was too little time. All she could think about was that’s it? This is how it was going to end? In blood, with pain, with no one she loved nearby… this?
It’s the after nothing prepares you for.
The surviving.
The almost dying.
That’s when thoughts haunted you. That’s when things started replaying in your head. Stupid decisions. Wrong ones. Missed ones. Things she should have done, people she should have held close.
Mostly, these thoughts revolved around a particular person.
A person she’d never quite gotten out of her bloodstream the way she thought she had.
It’s funny. The one name on her mind wasn’t Booth, her “husband,” it wasn’t the FBI. It was him.
And even now, with death only just passing her by, she couldn’t voice his name. Funny how that was a pain she wasn’t able to quite bear yet ( she fully planned on calling him after she looked more … presentable. Less blood, less cuts & bruises. Maybe a smile that didn’t hurt every muscle & then some ) when she’d come through literal torture.
𝑺𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 remained unsaid between them, she wasn’t sure how to start & a Sorry. I nearly died & all I can think about is that’s not how I want things to end — us to end didn’t quite cut it. They’d need to move past Facebook friends first. They had, sort of. She texted sometimes. He never really did but she knew he read them. He never told her to stop. That was something.
She jumps at the sound at her door, fingers checking for her gun, always at her side, always hyper-aware of every noise. Part of her wants to ignore it. She’s alone & honestly, at this point, it’s something she needs to get used to. She’d nearly died because a code had been more important than her life. She gets it. Really, she does.
Doesn’t stop it from hurting a little.
She can add it to the list of bruises & wounds she’s been nursing.
She takes a step back from her door, eyes wide, when she immediately recognizes the figure from her peephole.
Even without speaking his name, even without acknowledging it to herself, somehow he still shows up. He’s here. At her door.
She opens the door, wondering why he’s here & remembering a beat too late, her hand faltering for a second, that if he doesn’t know then she really looks like hell. This wasn’t how she’d planned it & she tries to keep the worst of it hidden behind the door.
Something in her chest loosens, like an icicle thawing slightly at not just the sound of his voice but how Caleb he sounds. She doesn’t even bother responding. ❛ Caleb what are you doing here? ❜ Now of all times. At her door. After so many missed conversations. And then he’s inside her home. It’s so surreal she can almost blame the dizziness on him. She shuts the door, taking extra time to lock it, both because she does that now, but also to avoid him seeing her.
And just like that, the ice is back. Not quite as hard as before but there as if in response to the heat in his voice. Oh. Booth. She’d almost forgotten. She’s so exhausted she doesn’t have a good excuse.
She’s so tired of the lies, of lying to him that she doesn’t really try. Damn her cover, she almost died.
❛ He had something he had to do. ❜ Usually she does too but she’s being forced to rest. Like that’ll help. ❛ And I needed some time to myself. ❜ She can’t hide it any longer, the full extent of it all, might as well indirectly acknowledge it so he won’t. And maybe he’ll leave, take the hint. This isn’t how she’d planned for them to meet, not like this. ❛ Oh and, nice to see you too by the way. A phone call or even a text would have worked just fine but hey. ❜ She shrugs. ❛ So what brings you here anyway? ❜
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@quanticobred:
I woke up & you were gone
x. kristen is replying to things from months ago 2k18
❝ Cuddle sessions cost EXTRA, G.I Jane. && I’m not getting paid enough as it is. ❞ There’s nothing but amusement coating his tone, never glancing up from pouring their cups of coffee to rightfully address her. There was SOMETHING about being back in proximity to Shelby thatCHIPPED away at those walls he had so carefully built up around himself. He’s spent the better part of the last couple years FOCUSING on himself, on discovering who he was without his father looming over his shoulder, expecting him to fail. Law school had been aDISTRACTION, it hadn’t been what he had DREAMED but it was a step away from the shadow his family casted. It’s probably why leaving && not looking back came EASIER to him than he cared to admit – just because he was GOOD at it, didn’t mean he liked it. Instead he found himself falling into FAMILIAR routines with his ( what he used loosely ) friends && HER, pretending to be something with her that he had all too many memories to draw on for. There had been a time in his life when he thought that she was IT – a brief second where he thought that MAYBE they’d make it but who was he kidding ? They were more DOOMED than a teenage romance on one of those shows he used to catch her binging. The next move made is one out of HABIT – a muscle memory from a time where waking up with her was simply part of a ROUTINE. It’s something he hadn’t even realized he missed – the normalcy of untangling himself from her grasp in the morning. Handing her the steaming mug, his mouth NEARLY brushing against hers before he has to remind himself that they AREN’T at Quantico && she’s only here to push away his BROTHER. Clearing his throat as he puts distance between them, features blank as he ignores his previous SLIP, lifting himself onto the counter in a singular movement, his normal smirk finding it’s place at the corner of his lips. There are a couple quiet PAUSES before he regains his composure, purposely IGNORING the fact she was wearing HIS shirt from all those years ago. TRUTH is – he hadn’t minded her frame pushed up against his, her light breaths ticking his chest, blonde strands fanned out as she finally allowed herself some sort of rest. As easy as it was to forget the WEIGHT she carried on her shoulders when she stands as if NOTHING could hold her down, he hadn’t forgotten her mention of the LACK of sleep she was getting. It makes him wonder if the team had any idea how far she was willing to PUSH herself. ❝ MODEL MAGIC left for the day so you’re in the CLEAR. ❞
𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃, 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃, 𝐘𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃. That’s how she’d woken. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so well, not since — & the smile on her lips ( the one she hadn’t even known was there until she felt it freeze ) disappears as she takes the unfamiliar surroundings ( & as her fingers instinctively reach & are only met with cold emptiness. ) After a sharp inhale, she realizes where she is — the scent of him lingering even when he hadn’t. The familiar cologne, the shirt she’s wearing, the room, him, all of it is so achingly familiar ( while simultaneously, heartbreakingly unfamiliar ) in a way she had thought long-forgotten that it hurts, heart pounding a little too fast as she realizes where she was, what she’d been doing ( who she had been reaching for mere moments ago. ) She’s left feelingly empty, & a little nostalgic for a thing that never quite was, for a thing that almost had been, her defenses not quite up to her usual standards when groggy from sleep.
𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 ( how had he felt when he’d woken up? Was this … okay? ) Last night had been different, not quite intentional like all their other moves have been. She hadn’t meant to spend the night, & she sure as hell hadn’t meant to fall asleep in Caleb Haas’s bed ( not again. ) He’d been … nice. As nice as he got with her after everything, telling her how awful she’d looked whilst throwing her the shirt ( the shirt! ). She takes a few breaths, arms hugging her knees to her chest as she wills her heartbeat to go back to normal ( wills for it all to stop hurting. ) As successful as she’ll be, she gets up, allowing the routine of fixing the bed to calm her down instead, fingers carefully straightening out the edges before trying to do the same with her ( his ) slightly rumpled shirt ( as if bracing for battle with what little armors he has. It’s oddly comforting, the shirt. Like having an old friend back. She’s not returning it. Come to think of it … she never had. )
𝐒𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑, 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄, now working at tugging her mussed up hair in place as she sees him. The words are out before she’d thought about them ( & if she had, she wouldn’t have said them. ) ❛ I woke up, & you were gone. ❜ I woke up & you never woke me. I woke up & you had left ( wasn’t that always the case with them? ) She tries for a smile to hide how sad her words had been & when he gives her a typical Caleb reply, part of her wants to because of how … familiar this all is ( the other part wants to walk away right now because of how wrong it all feels because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. His sarcasm was never this sharp, not at her. Not since the beginning. ) ❛ I wasn’t aware there was any payment involved. ❜ How could she pay him back? She can barely say thank you without the words getting caught in her throat. Her smile is in full bloom now, because he’s not as guarded, just Caleb. Here. With her. And they’re not fighting. And she’d slept.
Eyes fall to the cups he’s pouring & just like that, it’s as if some of that armor she’d been preparing herself with from earlier cracks, a grateful sound somewhere between a groan & an exclamation out of her lips. ❛ Oh thank you. ❜ He remembered. He bothered. Fingers reach out the same moment he holds the cup out, as if it’s a dance they’ve practiced, perfected & she leans in a little without thinking about it, head tilted — & breath catching as he’s close so close, any thoughts of sleep long gone as she’s jolted by his proximity, by the near touch. She fidgets placing the cup on the counter so she can tie her hair into a messy ponytail just for something to do while he puts distance between them. She grabs the cup & wraps her fingers around it, needing the warmth now that his body is ( yet again ) further away.
Her head snaps up, eyes on him when he speaks. ❛ What? Oh — ❜ she realizes she’d forgotten all about Clay. Funny, isn’t that why they’re here? ❛ Yeah. Thanks. ❜ She takes a sip, savoring in the warmth, not just from the drink but from the thought that had gone into making her a cup to. ❛ I um — thank you. ❜ She wants to be clear. They had joked about her not paying him but she’s very much aware that he’s here for her this time, no questions asked ( well, no words spoken at all. She hadn’t even known he was coming. ) ❛ For this but also for last night. I must have been exhausted. I can’t remember the last time I just … it feels like I blacked out. ❜ Or, you know, actually slept. ❛ Sorry. I’ll make sure I go home earlier next time. ❜
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Caleb:
❝ everything suits me. ❞ a grin flashes at the end of his words, this was what normalcy had looked like for them. HOME was never a place that he returned to when everything fell apart – he didn’t really have one of those, not until he found her. he spent so long CLIMBING those walls of hers that he never stopped to realized what it meant once he was inside. he hadn’t know that warmth of comfort, the way his heart was capable of beating faster just from SEEING her across the room – he didn’t know love, not really, until he let himself stumble into it with her. they weren’t IDEAL – hell, he couldn’t remember a time where they actually agreed on something, where he didn’t feel like ripping his hair out as she challenged every word before he had the chance to say it, but in TRUTH, he wouldn’t have it any other way. DIFFERENT – a chase she’s found thrill in since he guesses she was young but this aged her beyond her years ( he assumed that had been the point, after all he was sure it was something his father adored. ) ❝ you always did want what you couldn’t have. ❞ the tease drips from his lips with the same EASE of the crimson that leaks into the cracks of the floor.
reality crashes into him with a NEW wave of pain that he bites into his lip to keep from voicing. the taste of metallic bursting against his tongue, his jaw clenching as he nodded – he COULDN’T think about his father right now, he had no choice but to believe that when they got out of here, he’d be waiting for him, another lecture regarding caleb’s recklessness SURELY taking top priority. there is a noise of agreement lost in the quaking of the crumbling building – there was no option BEYOND her continuing her life after this, he didn’t accept a world where shelby didn’t exist. it wasn’t something he was CAPABLE of comprehending. it’s almost alarming to him, the way his existence depends on hers – even through their separation. he was able to continue his days knowing that she was out there somewhere, living her life – & that had been ENOUGH for him. had her stubbornness not ruled her, she wouldn’t be here, she’d be safe. ❝ you should have. ❞ he latches onto her next REQUEST as if he had found a form of god given salvation, ‘ stay with me ’ – he would have KILLED to hear those words months prior. ❝ save the demands for the boiler room, hoover. ❞ a musing uttered out-loud with a grin pulling on his lips.
leaning heavily against a piece of rubble he lets his eyes rest while her voice fills the emptiness LINGERING between them – it was soothing, if he ignored the panic that had begun to color her tone. there had been a TIME where he doubted that he’d hear the soft spoken nature she emitted – where he had chalked her existence up to being the one that got AWAY, ignorant to the fact that she had kept herself tangled within the haas family tree. the pain of that knowledge nearly impactful enough to overpower the searing white heat that was STAINING his shirt a dark crimson. ❝ they didn’t deserve you. ❞ a small breath escaping as if he were on his knees in confessional, purging his sins. he wasn’t sure there was anyone deserving of her, he had TRIED to be but in the end, her light had burned the wings of icarus, scorched feathers lay in waste at their feet. her admission has his heart staggering to find it’s rightful beat – ❝ my number never changed. ❞ hurricane alex wreaking HAVOC through their lives was nothing more than a normal occurrence on a day that ended in y, he should have expected this would be the very reason their paths crossed AGAIN.
his cheek rests at the crown of her head, inhaling the familiar scent even in the midst of the ash that COATED them. contentment forming a knot in his stomach only she had the power to induce – she had destroyed him & yet here he was, feeling more put together than he had in MONTHS because of her. the brief moment of solace is broken as she reads between the lines of his confession – dull hues of grey blinking open as she begins to move, a wince PLAINLY visible as his jaw ticked. ❝ i’m good at what i do. ❞ it’s not confidence but fact, he had secured his future with the determination to prove his father’s DISBELIEF incorrect, helping her seemed to be the drive that pushed him past those limitations. ❝ you worked too hard to let alex & the discount hardy boys destroy that. ❞ the conversation they had when this all STARTED was remembered vividly, she hadn’t wanted them to be more in fear of distraction & yet now that she had her DREAM, she was risking everything for the clue crew ( & for what ? ) ❝ i’m not going anywhere but you have to get out of here. ❞
𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐇𝐔𝐅𝐅 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 as she latches onto the familiarity, the comfort of Caleb being Caleb ( & she ignores the relief, the happiness, the longing that’s invoked by it. ) ❛ You keep telling yourself that. You can’t tell me you don’t miss it. Being out on the field. ❜ She remembers seeing it even then, restless frame pretending to effortlessly lounge about while the NATs worked hard. He is good at it, but being good at something & wanting it are so very different ( just like how one can be good at being alone, after having been so nearly all her life, but wanting 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. ) Yet she clings to the words, the smile she can hear in his words even if she can’t see it, how, if she were to shut her eyes, she could almost pretend they were okay ( wasn’t that their story from beginning to end? ) She stiffens at his words, first defensively, then in hurt, then she starts to wonder. With the heaviness of the dust & ashes around them, nearly choking them, doubt starts to creep in. Maybe he’s right. Maybe that’s what it’s always been. She’s always wanted home — not the large, empty mansions she was left with when her world came crashing down, but the person she could call that. Empty buildings were just that — cold, lifeless, & quiet. She’d chased it, but then backed up when it became too real, became possible. She wants it still, but she keeps herself so distant, her walls so high that it really is unattainable. She realizes she’s been quiet for too long & forces her frame to relax & keep her voice steady. ❛ I am different. Not everything but enough. I needed something to show for it. ❜ Something visible as proof for the invisible scars she know bears.
𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐏 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒, 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄, 𝐔𝐍𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍, she’s not even aware of it until much later when the world around them threatens to crumble even further. She’s not losing him. Not like this. Not again.
❛ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. ❜ It’s starting to dawn on her. Why he’s here, what he’s doing, & she wonders how much of her guesswork is right & how much is wishful thinking ( that thing about wanting things she can’t have ). She would have shoved him if they were anywhere else, if she wasn’t worried the small action wouldn’t cause him pain. It speaks too much of a past that’s weighting extra heavily on her right now. She still can’t help the half-smile that forms. She’s overcome with an alien urge of wanting to bury her face in his chest & just breathing him in. The words are too much for her frayed nerves & she’s not sure what she wants to say. They hurt too much in a way she can’t explain ( maybe because if she thinks about it, deep deep down, she’s always thought it’s the opposite. That’s why she’s always the one standing by herself. Alone. They leave. They always leave. ) She opens her mouth to say something, anything, but all she gets out is his name ( the only solid thing in her life — before she tore it down — the the only solid thing here. ) ❛ Caleb I — ❜ How does she tell him what the words mean? What she feels? How does she tell him that his number may not have changed but too much else had and the thought of calling was both a cause for hope & terror? ( What if he didn’t pick up? What would she even say? How could she say it? ) Yet horror chokes her, halting her words & all other thought as she sees the crimson blossoming along his white shirt from the corner of her eye. She shifts, turning to better face him, ignoring how much she feels the lack of his frame pressed up against hers. ❛ You’re still bleeding. ❜ Her voice is even though it wavers slightly, a sharp contrast to the turmoil within. She leans in closer ( like a magnet, like a moth to a flame. ) ❛ What can I do? ❜ She’s trying to hold it together, if not for her sake then for the both of them, but it’s becoming harder at the thought of him hurting, at the thought of him… Her arms hover, as unsure & unsteady as her heart.
❛ 𝐖𝐞’𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝. ❜ She remembers, he put in just as much work as she did, fought & earned his right for the seat at the table rather than getting it handed to him like she’d assumed so long ago ( I’m not coasting on anything Taylor Swift. She still remembers his face, the tone of his voice — & the way she couldn’t stop looking. ) ❛ We’re going to get out of this & we’ll figure it out. ❜ Together. Unspoken but it might as well be. Yet somehow saying it aloud makes it almost sound scary rather than a comfort. Or maybe it’s both. ( Maybe saying it allows him to scoff at it. ) Her gaze snaps to his, anger & rebellion flashing in her eyes. ❛ 𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮. ❜ Not again & sure as hell not like this.
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