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Chasing a chemical weapon shouldn't be thrilling. And it wasn't, not really. Because what she saw, what it did, that was horrific and she wished it wouldn't have imploded and all these lives could've been saved.
But there still had been this thrill; the race against time, against evil. It gave her the same adrenaline rush she got in high pressure situations, in the ED, in the Army. And for her, it didn't matter if she caught the chemical or not. She had already been handed her death sentence, she was already dying. It didn't matter if she caught the chemical, it mattered that others didn't. It mattered that Mitch didn't, but she'd only let that thought surface once.
Now that he was tracing invisible patterns on her back and his lips were ghosting over her bare skin, all while she kept her eyes closed, the thought resurfaced. And this time she couldn't just pretend it away, not while they were sharing a bed this intimately.
It really wasn't like she hadn't been in this position before, but this was different. It was different because it felt different. And it felt different because Mitch wasn't just another night, another fling. He was her coworker and she liked him. More than she could bring herself to admit, more than she should. Every logical instinct in her was screaming to pull her walls back up, to stop what they were doing because inevitably it was going to cause herself and especially him too much pain, too much hurt. It was never going to end well, for either of them.
But tonight, she decided, was not the night to stop whatever this was between them. Tonight, she just wanted to enjoy him, his company, his touch.
Mitch could tell that she was bothered by something. She looked peaceful on the outside, her eyes closed, her chest rising and sinking evenly, resting. But he could tell by the way her arm tensed and her back arched that she was thinking about something that bothered her. He considered asking her about it, but he knew the past twenty-four hours had been eventful for her, for both of them. He knew they'd called in her expertise from her Army days and she had been trapped in a fire. So he decided he could always ask her later.
When she had shown up at his place unannounced, she had looked so exhausted and tired underneath her carefully curated mask, he had been sure she would collapse any second. She hadn't, surprisingly enough, and instead they'd settled on the couch and she'd curled herself into his side in silence. Neither of them had said a word and neither of them had had the need to move until Caitlin had turned her head and kissed him softly. They had quietly moved into the bedroom without ever letting go of each other.
He watched her muscles relax subconsciously, and he was glad. That whatever bothered her either didn't bother her anymore or she'd let go of it for now and she could relax with him. Because he cared, he always cared too much too fast, but he cared about her and it didn't feel like too much.
"Mitch?" She broke the silence carefully but certain, still facing away from him. She rarely used his first name.
"Yeah?" He murmured, dropping another kiss on her naked shoulder.
She waited for a moment longer, letting the kiss linger before she turned around to face him. The bed squeaked slightly as she did so, but he was all-consumed by her movements and her face, he hardly noticed. The thought that maybe he should get a new bed was subconsciously filed away for the future.
For now, he was here with her and that was all that mattered.
He recognized that look on her face; she was about to tell him something that wasn't just a clear cut sentence or an order, it meant something to her, it was personal. She was lowering her walls, and she had a quite a lot of them as he was learning.
"What is it?" He asked, reaching for her hand without even meaning to. She watched him gently intertwine their hands before she answered.
"I- I'm really glad you're okay."
He smiled faintly, "I'm really happy you're okay, too, Caitlin."
She loved the way he made her name sound, loved the way he cared for her. Maybe too much sometimes, but never too intense. If anything it wasn't intense enough.
Her face relaxed as she let a small smile slip on and she curled herself closer to him. For the moment, she didn't care that she hadn't wanted to get involved, didn't care about her GSS-results.
She let herself be happy.
For the moment, they both were.