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Fic - Tiny Victories (Kalinda, Kalinda/Cary) pg, 1/1
Title: Tiny Victories
Summary: She knows exactly how they got here. You reap what you sow. Kalinda knows this all too well.
Rating: pg
Author's Notes: 765 words. Spoilers for everything to date. All mistakes are mine. These characters, however, are not. Con-crit is, of course, both welcome and appreciated.
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
linsell_farm. It was such a joy getting to know you this year and your strength inspires me. I doubt this is exactly what you wanted, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.
“I’m sorry.”
The words slip out of her mouth and tangle in knots between them. Kalinda leans a shoulder against his fancy new doorframe, and Cary glances upwards feigning annoyance, acting as though he didn’t see her coming from a mile away. “Is that what you’d like me to say, Cary? That I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done to hurt you?”
Pushing away from his desk, he tosses a pen to the side, the metal clattering against the file before him. He shakes his head, chuckles lowly to himself. Yesterday’s clothes are wrinkled, his tie partly unknotted around his neck. He keeps an extra in his top desk drawer, fresh shirts, too because he doesn’t like people to think that he wants this as much as he does. He doesn’t like people to think that he actually cares more than he should.
Kalinda knows Cary better than he thinks, better than he would like her to. It’s one of the very many reasons he’s angry with her. Kalinda knows this.
“Depends. Are you?”
Kalinda shakes her head. Smiles with teeth biting lip. It’s late. Outside Chicago sleeps, but here they are, back at square one, separated by time and distances and her inability to let people in, her affinity for still taking and taking until there is nothing left, and, of course, his insufferable pride. She crosses the distance until she is mostly before him, her hip solid against his desk, her gaze even with his.
“I am sorry, Cary,” she says and mostly means it. His eyebrow lifts and lips twitch just slightly, teeth flashing for just a moment. She waits a beat, switching her weight from left to right and waits for him to reach for his pen, corner of her mouth curling when he starts to twirl it between his fingers – a nervous tick of his.
“I just don’t believe you, Kalinda.”
She moves closer, having expected that response, having heard the words before they even left his mouth. She leans against his desk, the corner digging into her back, her feet crossing at the ankles. Cary doesn’t move away, just leans back farther in his seat, the leather creaking slightly under his weight as he presses his lips into a thin line.
“I would like us to be friends. I would like us to try and be friends again, Cary.”
He laughs then and the sound is not at all kind. “That’s the thing though, isn’t it? We were never really friends. Not in the true sense of the term anyway.”
“That is not true.”
“Don’t, Kalinda. Just don’t. I don’t trust you anymore,” he tells her, leaning forward to flip the file on his desk closed, to toss his pen to the side once more. “I probably never should have in the first place, but I am extremely capable of learning from mistakes. I don’t know why you’re here, I don’t know what you want, but what I do know, what I am absolutely sure of, is that I will not be the one giving it to you.”
Kalinda is stung, but doesn’t show it. Hums something noncommittal the back of her throat and covers it with a laugh. Kalinda isn’t sure why she is here, she isn’t even quite certain how she ended up here, really – there was tequila, a bar on the wrong side of town. She was wandering, the leather of her boots sticking to her bare legs in the cold, midnight air, and maybe it was calculated, maybe it wasn’t, but she ended up here, at his office. She wants to tell him that she’s happy for him, proud even at all he has managed to accomplish. She also wants to tell him to watch his back, to watch out for Peter because his intentions are almost always self-serving, but it seems wrong, trite, foreign as the thoughts ring in her head. They aren’t those people anymore to each other, and, if she’s honest with herself, if she believes what he is saying, they never really were.
Instead, she reaches for him, her fingers strong and steady against the curve of his jaw, against the soft skin of his cheek. Kalinda smiles when he doesn’t move away, when he doesn’t flinch like she half-expected him to. It’s a tiny victory and, like always, she takes all that she can.
“I know you, too,” she starts, her fingers dropping, curling into a tight fist at her side before releasing. “Don’t forget that, Cary.”
The click of her heels sings her very own lament as she walks away.
Summary: She knows exactly how they got here. You reap what you sow. Kalinda knows this all too well.
Rating: pg
Author's Notes: 765 words. Spoilers for everything to date. All mistakes are mine. These characters, however, are not. Con-crit is, of course, both welcome and appreciated.
For
linsell_farm. It was such a joy getting to know you this year and your strength inspires me. I doubt this is exactly what you wanted, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.“I’m sorry.”
The words slip out of her mouth and tangle in knots between them. Kalinda leans a shoulder against his fancy new doorframe, and Cary glances upwards feigning annoyance, acting as though he didn’t see her coming from a mile away. “Is that what you’d like me to say, Cary? That I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done to hurt you?”
Pushing away from his desk, he tosses a pen to the side, the metal clattering against the file before him. He shakes his head, chuckles lowly to himself. Yesterday’s clothes are wrinkled, his tie partly unknotted around his neck. He keeps an extra in his top desk drawer, fresh shirts, too because he doesn’t like people to think that he wants this as much as he does. He doesn’t like people to think that he actually cares more than he should.
Kalinda knows Cary better than he thinks, better than he would like her to. It’s one of the very many reasons he’s angry with her. Kalinda knows this.
“Depends. Are you?”
Kalinda shakes her head. Smiles with teeth biting lip. It’s late. Outside Chicago sleeps, but here they are, back at square one, separated by time and distances and her inability to let people in, her affinity for still taking and taking until there is nothing left, and, of course, his insufferable pride. She crosses the distance until she is mostly before him, her hip solid against his desk, her gaze even with his.
“I am sorry, Cary,” she says and mostly means it. His eyebrow lifts and lips twitch just slightly, teeth flashing for just a moment. She waits a beat, switching her weight from left to right and waits for him to reach for his pen, corner of her mouth curling when he starts to twirl it between his fingers – a nervous tick of his.
“I just don’t believe you, Kalinda.”
She moves closer, having expected that response, having heard the words before they even left his mouth. She leans against his desk, the corner digging into her back, her feet crossing at the ankles. Cary doesn’t move away, just leans back farther in his seat, the leather creaking slightly under his weight as he presses his lips into a thin line.
“I would like us to be friends. I would like us to try and be friends again, Cary.”
He laughs then and the sound is not at all kind. “That’s the thing though, isn’t it? We were never really friends. Not in the true sense of the term anyway.”
“That is not true.”
“Don’t, Kalinda. Just don’t. I don’t trust you anymore,” he tells her, leaning forward to flip the file on his desk closed, to toss his pen to the side once more. “I probably never should have in the first place, but I am extremely capable of learning from mistakes. I don’t know why you’re here, I don’t know what you want, but what I do know, what I am absolutely sure of, is that I will not be the one giving it to you.”
Kalinda is stung, but doesn’t show it. Hums something noncommittal the back of her throat and covers it with a laugh. Kalinda isn’t sure why she is here, she isn’t even quite certain how she ended up here, really – there was tequila, a bar on the wrong side of town. She was wandering, the leather of her boots sticking to her bare legs in the cold, midnight air, and maybe it was calculated, maybe it wasn’t, but she ended up here, at his office. She wants to tell him that she’s happy for him, proud even at all he has managed to accomplish. She also wants to tell him to watch his back, to watch out for Peter because his intentions are almost always self-serving, but it seems wrong, trite, foreign as the thoughts ring in her head. They aren’t those people anymore to each other, and, if she’s honest with herself, if she believes what he is saying, they never really were.
Instead, she reaches for him, her fingers strong and steady against the curve of his jaw, against the soft skin of his cheek. Kalinda smiles when he doesn’t move away, when he doesn’t flinch like she half-expected him to. It’s a tiny victory and, like always, she takes all that she can.
“I know you, too,” she starts, her fingers dropping, curling into a tight fist at her side before releasing. “Don’t forget that, Cary.”
The click of her heels sings her very own lament as she walks away.
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