When The Rain Falls

CHAPTER 5

When he got to the apartment, she had made good on her word by unlocking the gate. As he climbed the stairs his mind raced. Amelia offering him to stay the night was not something he had anticipated. He wondered if all American girls knew the implications of requesting this from a man, or was it just the ladies of New York who had these ideals? It was eye-opening and refreshing, yet alarming at the same time. She seemed so open to the idea of him coming over, as if it was just the normal thing to do. Usually it took months to even come to such a fathomable decision, which is why his times after the separation were few and far between. He usually found it unappealing to have to continuously see one another after. However, with Amelia, he pondered why she was the exception.

She took a long time to answer, and he had just about lost his nerve and was half way down the steps when she opened the door. “Callen?” She said to his back. “Where are you going?”

He froze midstep, then turned around to see her half out the door. “Ay, Amelia. Sorry. Thought you changed your mind.”

She frowned at him, confused with a slight smile on her full lips. “I said I was taking a shower and to let yourself in."

He turned on his heel and climbed the steps again. She moved back, and let him in. He took note of the small fire in the brick-laden furnace, crackling softly, and blankets and pillows on the sofa. Unusual, but fair. What had she planned? The door shut behind him as he took his coat off, still in his officer's uniform, and watched her walk towards the tiny kitchenette. He studied what she was wearing. Simple satin burgundy shorts with a drawstring and lace trim hung on her hips. Definitely sleepwear. Wide hips with a matching ass that flared into thick muscular thighs and long legs, from an impossibly narrow waist. Hair up in a towel and a cropped black top that hit her navel. Inwardly he groaned, and felt his clothing begin to suffocate him. No bra, and definitely no panties.

He watched her as she bent over to pull out some coffee grounds she had under the counter, and his eyes drew to a large six-inch scar that marred her back. Making a mental note to ask about it later, he hung his jacket up and called out to her “Would ya like some help there Amelia?”

She turned around and gave him a smile, stretching her arm above her to the cabinet and pulling down a plate. Her top rose again, and he saw another scar grace her abdomen. “No, thank you, but get comfortable, okay?”

“Alright.” He said, staring at her midsection. The big scar was jagged, and the skin was torn. It seemed as if it was a deliberate gouge. Definitely not surgical. What the hell happened to her?

Suddenly, her hands came to the edge of her shirt and pulled down, and he pulled his gaze to face. Cat-like eyes stared at him, half closed, and lips the color of peonies pressed together in a thin line. “Please don’t ask me.” She said quietly. “I’m not ready for that conversation just yet.”

Callen moved to take off his tactical belt, and dropped it on the sofa. He began to unstrap his vest. “I’m not asking that. I’m quite distracted by other things right now.”

To his relief, she smirked, and let go of the hem of her shirt. It hit her navel, and she smiled, looking coyly at him. He took an extra second to look at her before his hands went to his shirt and he turned away from her, unbuttoning it. Pulling it off, and clad in only a white undershirt and his work trousers, Callen walked towards the kitchen while she busied herself plating cookies.

“I hope you don’t mind. I went on a baking biz for Jules. He asked me to make something new, and hey, I figured I’d make you my test dum - Oh!” Amelia gasped as a warm body pressed against her back, and a large palm with splayed fingers crept around her waist, pulling her back to him. Staying still, she felt his other hand reach upwards and gently remove the towel from her head, letting her hair fall over one shoulder.

“Your hair is dry now,” he whispered. She felt his hot breath on her neck before feeling the caress of his lips behind her ear, kissing a soft line to her neck. Slowly she tilted her head back, giving his mouth more access to her skin, and he became even more feverish, his thumb moving upwards, running his fingers along the underside of her breast. Amelia let out an involuntary gasp, her n*****s pebbling when he cupped her. A moan of approval from him while his other hand came around her and molded over her chest, pressing the hard peaks between his fingers. He spread his legs to match hers, and pulled her closer, her body aligned with his hardness into her hip as one hand tangled in her hair. When his hand moved lower and a finger ran inside the waistband of her shorts, she finally spoke.

“Callen?” She whispered, her voice shaking. He pulled away sharply, his hand on her shoulder, and turned her roughly. His eyes were dark, his face lined with an emotion she couldn’t decipher, as his leg slid in between hers and his hand tightened in her hair. When he tilted his face to kiss her, she turned away, rigid, eyes forced shut. Through clenched teeth she whispered “I don’t want to do this...”

“Amelia?” He whispered. She started shaking, closing her eyes to avoid looking at him. Untangling her strands from his fingers, he stepped away suddenly and she slumped against the counter. “Amelia, are you alright?”

Finally opening up her eyes, she looked at him, and he felt dismayed when he saw fear. “I...I just wanted cookies.”

Callen swallowed the rock in his throat. “Amelia… You mean you didn’t want.. company?” He frowned. She shook her head and groaned in dismay. He pulled away as if being near her burnt. “Wait. You didn’t mean… You actually meant biscuits... Oh fuck.”

“Why would you think I wanted that Callen?!” She shouted. “I asked you over because you were lonely, and I was too. I didn’t know you thought company meant… that!”

“You’re barely dressed Amelia, you asked me here in the middle of the night, what else was I supposed to think?” Turning on his heel he stalked back to the couch and pulled his shirt on, pushing his arms, through roughly. He buttoned the middle first, and then turned to her. His throat closed when he saw her face. She seemed shocked, her hands twisting in front of her, with her bottom lip being chewed raw. “God, woman. Why didn’t you just f*****g stop me?”

“I.. I’m sorry.” She sputtered, covering herself with her arms. “I didn’t… I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

“No, Amelia. No. Stop apologizing.” Callen groaned and looked at the ceiling. “I read too much into it. I’ll leave. We can pretend-”

“No, don’t go.” Amelia interrupted him. “I want you to stay, I just don’t want.. that.”

Callen looked at her. She looked scared, desperate, and completely guilty. Slowly he pulled his shirt off, and sat on the sofa, removing his shoes. “Just… Why didn’t ye push me away if ye din’ want me, Amelia?”

She didn’t respond, instead moved to rummaging through her dresser. Callen watched her begin laying down much more conservative clothing. Legging trousers. An over-sized long sleeved shirt. He watched as she pulled the shirt over her head, and struggled with the sleeves. “I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression. If I change, will it fix this?”

Callen felt sick to his stomach. Slowly he walked towards her, and began to help her arms through the sleeves. “It’s not your fault.” He said, pulling her other arm through the shirt. “I don’t want you to apologize any more. I shouldn’t have brought up what you were wearing. I shouldn’t have blamed you.”

“But-”

“I mean it Amelia.” He tugged the shirt down, passed her hips. It fell almost to her knees, and fully covered her shorts. He swallowed. “That is one thing in this world a man has no right to. Unless willfully given. I’m sorry if I made you feel as if it was a requirement on your part.” He stood back and looked at her. Shaking his head, he pressed his lips into a thin line. “I feel as if I’m speaking to one of my girls about the birds and bees. You should know this. Understand this.”

Amelia lifted one shoulder and looked towards the bed, staring at her leggings. “Good practice, I guess. Sorry. I never had the talk, so honest reaction from me.”

Callen carefully sat on the edge of the bed, and looked up at her. She still had that look on her face, a mix of desperation, worry, and anxiety. It unnerved him. He hated knowing that he had caused this confident, beautiful woman to shrink like a violet. Leaning on his knees, his elbows pressing into his thighs, he finally asked her. “What did you want to do tonight, Amelia?” God, woman, just tell me how to make this right.

She replied, finally looking at him. “I just want to be held, and fall asleep talking nonsense. I just want to be comfortable wearing something that shows my flaws and not be judged.” Sitting next to him, she playfully nudged him with her hip. “Just like friends.”

He smirked. “Not something I normally do with my friends, dear.”

“Remember when I said first time for everything?” Amelia gave him a smile that he noticed didn’t reach her eyes. “Besides, I don’t see your police friends being cuddly after work.”

“No, they aren’t normally. However, I’ve not gone to a pub with them after work, so who knows what they get up to.” Callen pulled himself to the side of the bed, and leaned back. “Why do you have so many God blessed pillows, woman?” He growled, adjusting them behind his back. Amelia didn’t give him a chance to say anything further. She jumped on the bed and crawled towards him, flopping on his chest. He grunted on the impact, raising an arm to allow her in the crook of his shoulder. “Ay, woman, you’re heavy for someone so tiny. What are you made of, rocks?”

She laughed, rolling on her back to use his chest as a pillow. “Tiny? No one would call me tiny but you, you big dumb oaf. How tall are you anyway?”

“I’m six-four. And did you just call me an eejit?”

“Yes.” She shouldered him in the ribs. “A big dumb Egypt, or whatever your accent butchered.”

“I don’t have an accent, woman. You’re a foreigner, you have the accent.” He sighed, and leaned back, letting her adjust to roll onto her side. Her arm slithered over his waist, and his over her shoulder. “I haven’t laid like this with anyone in a long while, Amelia. It’s oddly comforting.”

“You need more female friends.” Amelia said, her voice muffled by his chest. She lifted her head and poked his ribs. “But you’re hardly comfortable here. Your stomach is like concrete.”

“Ugh.” Callen reached under her arms and pulled her upwards so she was resting her head between his shoulder and neck. Wrapping an arm around her back, he pulled her close, allowing her arm to cross under his and pull his shoulder. “Well, if you were doing this correctly woman, it wouldn’t be such a hassle for your tender head.”

“Yeah, well, eat more donuts, Callen.” Amelia replied. Curling her arm on his chest, she nestled into him. “How long?”

“Since?”

“Since you’ve done this.”

“Hm.” He thought for a moment. “A year, I guess. I stopped doing that when I realized it was just empty, Amelia. Empty. When I realized things were finished, I didn’t want to be near them anymore. I didn’t want to do this. It didn’t feel right, being married, and still acting the part of a gantin teenager. I just wanted a connection, something I had with Arya when we met. I was lonely, like I was tonight. Of course I didn’t bloody think, I mean how could someone your age actually be interested in an aging law enforcement man with no social skills.” He chuckled and leaned his cheek on the top of her head. “I am truly sorry Amelia. God, how do I even come back from that? Embarrassing.”

A soft snore and heavy breathing in the nape of his neck silenced him. “Amelia?” he whispered. She responded by grumbling and pulling him closer, curling into his warmth. Shaking his head softly, he leaned back, and kicked up a blanket that was lying on the foot of the bed. “You are an utter disaster of a woman.” He whispered while pulling it over both of them. As he adjusted it over her body, he pressed a chaste kiss on the top of her head, then paused.

Why did he do that?

Sleep took him soon after, and he was thankful for the darkness so he wouldn’t have to question himself any more.

----

Callen tapped his fingers on his steering wheel and looked at his phone. Ten after. She was ten minutes late coming down. He inwardly groaned and wondered how the Hell she got him to do this.

When he asked her to postpone their original time, she relented effortlessly. She had agreed that his long double shift was a good enough reason to warrant sleep instead of dinner, and had left him alone to have dinner with him for seven blissful days. After he had spent the night at the apartment, he noticed she seemed to stay there more now. He had hoped she had taken up Jules’ offer to live there until she was ready to move on, but he didn’t ask.

So he went home, rested, went to work, texted Amelia daily, got coffee from Jules, and missed his girls. On his last shift before he had another restful day off, he got a call from her number at ten at night. He stared at it while it went to voicemail. He contemplated not dialing back, when it rang again. Groaning, he shut off his film that he had already watched and hit the accept button.

"Yes Amelia?"

"Why hello there Officer!" She sounded far too cheery.

"What can I do for you?"

"Well. I just got off work. Clean up sucked." Her laugh tinkled. He hated what it did to his spine. "So what are you up to?"

Callen shrugged even if she didn't see it. "Not much here. Work went well, I assume?"

"Of course! But it was missing something."

"What's that?"

He heard her soft sigh. "You, it was missing you. I haven’t seen you in a day or two until tonight, and since Jules hired someone to cover the mornings, and I missed you. Do you have work tomorrow?"

Callen contemplated lying but then thought better of it. She probably would have sniffed it out if he had. "I don't. Why?"

And so it began.

10:30pm and the woman wanted food.

And just food.

And company.

But not that company, he learned fairly quickly.

And she didn't ask if he had plans.

Of course not.

Because the woman wanted food and pulled the card that he owed her food and laid on the guilt.

How did she know he wasn't working the next day?

Well, you came in for your coffee, which means you're going to stay up. Which means you don't have work tomorrow.

Which means you're going to feed me as promised.

He made no such promise.

Yet, here he was, in his car, waiting for a Gothic fairy to come prancing down the stairs.

And she did. Except she wasn't dressed like normal. Instead of the flighty outfits, she wore jeans, boots that zipped to her ankle, and a comfortable looking jumper. Make up a bare minimum. The piercing were gone, except in her ears that jingled lightly when she moved her head. And those glasses he secretly adored.

When she climbed into his passenger side, she gave him a bright smile with her eyes the color of sunshine with peppermint bark. This wasn't cafee Amelia. This was upstairs in her apartment Amelia with the cherub like grin and demure bedroom eyes that didn't need any enhancement whatsoever. This was sitting at a table with him and his two children Amelia. This was Just Her Amelia, comfortable to be with you Amelia, and Callen found himself liking this Amelia more than he should.

"Thank you Callen." She said sweetly. Her voice and his name. He liked it too much.

He nodded and grunted in acknowledgment. She gave him directions to this strange Bistro she wanted to go to so badly, and he found himself enjoying her company more. The Bistro was about a forty-minute drive, but it felt like ten when they arrived. It was nice to enjoy the company of another person who wasn't his work partner. Or was below the age of thirteen.

Amelia smiled when she opened her car door, gazing up at the lit sign of the Bistro. It was simply called Bistro. Nothing too special about it, except it was the only place not shut down and open all hours. Inside, the servers were dressed nicely, but nothing one would consider fancy. Callen almost asked her if this was the right place after all, until he saw her bounding up the steps. Guess it was.

She let him open the door for her, and carefully she wrapped her arm around his waist. Stunned, he didn't move her, the closeness oddly appealing. When a young man appeared with a smile upon seeing her, his face fell when he saw her position.

"Amelia?" He asked, surprise lingering in his voice.

Amelia nodded enthusiastically. "Hi Samuel! I remember you said you worked here. I figured I might as well come check it out."

She placed her free hand on Callen's chest, and grinned up at him. "This is Callen."

Samuel regarded Callen carefully, his eyes narrowing. "Nice of you to bring your Da."

Callen sneered. Amelia laughed. "Callen isn't my father. He's my date."

"Oh. I see." Samuel nodded slowly, his smile no longer genuine. "Well. Okay then, follow me."

They walked closely behind Samuel as he placed their menus on the table. Amelia spoke up before he left. “Sam, can we have a booth, actually?” She waved towards a quiet, tidy corner. “I’m more preferable to an intimate setting.”

Samuel rambled out some odd specials and led them to the new accommodations. He set the menus down and then excused himself before taking their drink order, or even before they sat down. Callen watched as he walked away, and then glared at the woman in front of him. "Father? Date? Father?"

Amelia pasted a smile on her lips as she replied "Callen, you are a little scruffy. Maybe you should shave the beard."

"f**k me beard Amelia, who is that guy and what is going on?" Callen whispered harshly, his eye on the young man who blatantly stared at them both.

Amelia looked at him, and her face fell. Oh, guilt. A look he was growing accustomed to seeing on her. "Samuel comes into the cafe as often as he can, almost an hour away from here, to see me. I've made it clear I'm not interested, but he won't stop. I'm hoping if he sees I'm with someone, he'll let me off." She became desperate, chewing her bottom lip. "Please Callen?"

Callen let out a terse sigh and grumbled. "Lord, woman, could have given me a heads up here."

"If I did you wouldn't have come. Please just pretend. I’ll even pay you back." Amelia settled down into the booth. Callen sat in front of her, and stared across the table into her face. She had a pretty face, with a prominent nasal bridge, immediately showing her Italian heritage. Sharp cheekbones, and pointed chin drew him upwards to her eyes. Her deep-set cat-like amber eyes shone, and he noticed tiny gold and red specks swimming in the sienna pools. It was unusual. Very little enhancement with make up, which he liked. He was so used to the feminine and dainty looks of the European women around him, he found her striking. Not exactly a beauty queen, but not unattractive.

Definitely not unattractive.

Far from unattractive.

He swallowed. Hard.

“I’m going to make you pay for this woman.” He said in a low whisper. “And I don’t mean the bill.” Her lips curved upwards in a smile that seemed to be made of plaster.

“Thank you so much for taking me out!" Amelia said cheerfully when Samuel came back to their table, setting down two glasses and a small glass pitcher of water.

Callen almost laughed. Instead, he let a bold smile cross his lips. "Oh, you'll pay me back." He said loudly. "That little slinky thing in red would suffice, if it’s still viable after last night."

Samuel faltered a little. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth formed a perfect plump circle. "Callen!"

"You know how sexy you looked in red?" He cooed, smirking, gazing at her with hooded eyes. "Just f*****g smashing. I loved taking you against the wall, against the table, against that flimsy little couch in your apartment."

Her face turned crimson and he stifled a laugh that was brewing in his chest. She did look good in red and it only encouraged him.

"Heavens, you were so much fun, Amelia." He said, his voice a deep growl. Grinning as if he caught his prey, Callen leaned forward, eyeing her lavishly, then turned to Samuel. "The things I’ve done to her, Sammy my boy, completely ruined her for any other man. So kindly f**k off and stop looking at me woman like that, ay?"

Samuel sputtered and nodded, walking away quickly. Callen turned to look at her. When her eyebrows furrowed and she looked away, he stopped smiling. This was passed being playful. She looked beyond uncomfortable, and seemed to be triple guessing her idea. Odd.

"Amelia," he said softly. "I was only saying that to scare off Samuel. Are you okay?"

Amelia looked out the window, nodding. "Yeah, of course."

Callen stared at her. No she wasn't.

Pulling himself from the side of his booth, he stood and stared down at her. "Amelia," he said. "I'm going to sit down next to you."

"Uh huh."

He slid into the booth, and wrapped his arm carefully around her shoulder. She remained still, facing the window. "Amelia," he said again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You're fine." She replied blandly.

Callen pulled himself closer to her, and whispered in her ear. "Just making a show for Samuel." He whispered. "Blokes' passing us off to another right now."

"Uh huh."

He frowned. She was almost unresponsive. "Amelia," he leaned closer to her, and using his other hand he tilted her chin to face him. "I'm going to ask you one more time. What are you running from?"

Amelia frowned. "Why do you keep asking me that? I'm not running from anyone."

"Then who hurt you?"

Letting out an exasperated groan, Amelia pulled herself away. "No one. For f**k's sake, Callen, just because you're a cop doesn't mean everyone needs saving."

"I didn't mean that-"

"Stop it Callen." Her voice was laced with warning. "Just stop asking me that."

Callen stared at her, his face growing cold. She was a shitty liar. Her face was red and not from embarrassment. Her breathing was steady, but controlled. Her eyes changed color, more peppermint bark than the amber he was used to.

Her hands were clasped in her lap, and she twisted her fingers, and dug her nails into her flesh.

She wasn't some girl in her mid twenties just out to test the world.

She was scared.

She was in trouble.

She was running.

And he hated that he cared.

When the hell did that happen?

Slowly he pulled his arm away from her, staring at her with an unblinking gaze. Her lip trembled, very slightly, as if he removed her only comfort she had in the world, and he felt guilty for taking it away from her, when he shouldn't have felt the need to give it to her in the first place.

He didn't like this feeling. He didn't want to feel this way about her. Protection should only have been saved for his children. It went against his original feelings for her, which changed the day she invited him in for coffee. She trusted him in her home, she trusted him in her bed, even if nothing happened.

But not in her mind. And it made him angry.

"Fine." He said as he pulled his menu up. He gazed at the words in front of him, not entirely reading them.

Amelia looked at him, feeling relief wash over her. "I'm sorry Callen. I-"

"It's fine Amelia." He felt the sudden urge to pull away from her, give her space. He stood up and sat back in front of her in the opposite booth seat. "It's fine. I went too far once more. I won’t do it again."

Amelia stared at him, feeling remorse build inside of her. Her shoulders shook and she gripped the edge of the table, her fingers pressing hard into the veneer. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her own menu and gazed at it through blurred eyes. Still staring at the menu, she spoke quietly, her voice choked. "Callen?"

"Hm?" He looked up at her, his face stoic. She wondered how the man could do that, show no emotion.

"It’s not you." She almost whispered, afraid he couldn't hear her, and almost wishing he didn't. “It’s me. I’m starting to really think of you as someone I can trust. And I hate it.”

That surprised him. "Why?"

“I just feel safe when you’re close,” She said softly. “And I haven’t felt that in a long time.”

Callen swallowed the eager pain in his throat. Push it down man. “Amelia, are you willing to talk to me?”

“About?”

“Where did the scars come from?” He asked softly, urging his voice to sound comforting.

"I can't." She said quietly, shaking her head. "Not yet. Or ever. I don’t know yet."

"Amelia-"

"I can't Callen." Amelia shook her head. "I can't."

“Why Amelia?” He pushed on. “Why can’t you tell me who hurt you?”

It was when she looked at him with those eyes so old on a young face that she said, “Because they can hurt you too.”

He was stunned. A handsome waiter came to their table, his name tag reading Tony. He grinned at them both and read their specials off as he dropped glasses of water at their table. After ordering, Callen looked at Amelia again, trying to find her eyes with his. When she refused to look at him, he gave up, instead opted to silently finish his food. He noticed that she had eaten a bite of hers, and pushed around the rest with her fork.

Setting down his napkin, he stood up. "I'm going to the bog." He said softly. "Be right back."

He didn't wait for her response. He was angry, and had no idea why. Couldn't she trust him? Of course not. They had only been speaking for less than a week. Then why did he feel rage that she wasn't honest with him?

Callen stared at his reflection in the restroom, wondering who the man in front of him had become. She was young. Too young. Yet she stirred him in a way she never could imagine. He had seen attractive women before, but not one like her. Never one like her. Over the short time they spoke to each other, he found himself liking her presence more and more.

So he let out a few fantasies. They didn't mean a damn thing, but to her it seemed like overkill. He deserved to know why, right?

No, you f*****g i***t. You don't. And now you owe her an apology.

She owes you nothing.

Sighing, he washed his hands and face and braced himself for his return trip to the table, repeating in his head what he wanted to say. He wanted to make it right, go back to where they were at.

But when he returned, the bill was paid, she was gone, and her meal remained exactly as he had seen it before he left.