Work Text:
Caleb has just come back from an annoyingly prolonged mission in Deepspace. Exhausted to the bones, he just wanted to get back to his apartment and lock himself away from the outside world for at least half a year with the only person he holds dear. The only person in this entire rotten world he loves and cares about.
All these painstaking missions, implanted chip, bodily modifications. All this just for her. To keep her safe. To keep EVER from ever finding her. If only this didn’t cause her so much pain. He sees just fine how her heart shatters every time he informs her of yet another mission he needs to leave her for.
He understands perfectly well that her often occurring nightmares are caused by him. Caused by the horrors she witnesses every time his chip tries to wipe him out. Tries to wipe her out. From his brain, from his soul. He doesn’t let himself look away from the way her body trembles when he turns into the monster, he so desperately kept hidden all those years. He doesn’t, because he can’t let himself forget he’s the cause of her sufferings.
Even if it’s all for her own good, her safety. He needs to know, needs to always remember. Because this is his responsibility, his duty.
So he enters the apartment, takes in the lingering scent of the laundry detergent she bought him. The scent of life she breathed into this empty, meaningless place. He lets his eyes rest on two pairs of shoes by the doorstep. His house slippers and her sneakers that he got her. He takes in the sight of their coats hanging next to each other, their matching scarves neatly folded next to each other.
And suddenly at peace. In damn, blissful peace.
He takes off his boots, not bothering to take off his jacket or gloves, and steps further into the apartment. Into his apartment. Previously his. Now everything screams it’s been overtaken, shaped into something full of life. Something no longer soulless.
And, oh God, how the sight makes his heart swell.
Suddenly, he’s no longer a colonel, no longer a bionic soldier used as a machine for killing, but just Caleb. That young Caleb, who fought off guys trying to flirt with his crybaby scared of thunderstorms. That young Caleb, giving up his ice cream just so she wouldn’t be sad when they were only children with the weight of the world on their shoulders.
And so, he sprints. Exhaustion momentarily forgotten, replaced by an electrifying need for closeness. Her closeness. Her warm body pressed against his. His head in the crook of her neck, while his hands encage her like a robin in a pretty little cage.
And he does just that. Because in his arms, she’s safe. In his arms, she’s protected and alive. And he’s that young Caleb wishing for the world to end and let his pretty bird stay in his golden, shiny cage.