Chapter Text
The bullpen was quieter than usual, the kind of heavy stillness that only settled after a brutal case. Phones rang softly. Keyboards clicked. Somewhere, a printer hummed. But for Maggie Bell, the noise blurred into the background.
Her shoulder throbbed dully beneath the bandage, a reminder of how close she’d come to not walking back into this room at all.
OA hovered nearby, pretending to review paperwork, but she could feel his attention like a weight. No—like gravity.
Finally, she looked up. “You’re pacing.”
He stilled. “I’m standing.”
“Barely.”
OA sighed, setting the file down. His jaw tightened, the way it always did when he was trying to keep control. “You took a bullet today, Maggie.”
“I’ve been shot before.”
“Not like that,” he said quietly. “Not when I was watching.”
Something shifted between them.
The memory rushed back—her going down, the chaos, OA’s voice shouting her name, raw and terrified. The way his hands had trembled as he pressed gauze to her wound. The way he’d refused to leave her side until doctors physically pushed him out of the trauma bay.
“You scared me,” he admitted.
Maggie swallowed. “You don’t get to scare that easily.”
“I do when it’s you.”
The words hung in the air, fragile and dangerous.
“Maggie—”
She stood, heart pounding. “Don’t. Not here.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Let me take you home.”
“I can drive.”
“I know.” His gaze softened. “Let me anyway.”
She didn’t argue.
⸻
The ride was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Just heavy with everything they hadn’t said. Streetlights streaked across the windshield as the city blurred past, and Maggie watched his reflection in the glass—focused, protective, endlessly familiar.
When they reached her apartment, OA followed her inside without a word.
She dropped her bag, wincing as she eased onto the couch. “Doctor says I’m fine. Just sore.”
“I’m not worried about sore.” He crouched in front of her, eyes scanning her face, her bandage. “I’m worried about losing you.”
Her breath hitched.
“OA…”
“I’ve tried to do this the right way,” he said, voice low. “Distance. Boundaries. Logic. But today—when I thought…” He shook his head. “I can’t keep pretending this is nothing.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. “Neither can I.”
Silence stretched, electric.
“You’re my partner,” she whispered. “My best friend. If this goes wrong—”
“I know.” His hands hovered near her knees, not quite touching. “But if we keep going like this, it’s already wrong.”
She looked at him then—really looked. The man who had her back in every firefight. Who saw through her walls. Who made her laugh when she forgot how. Who loved her in all the quiet, selfless ways.
“I think,” she said softly, “we crossed that line a long time ago.”
His breath shuddered.
“Maggie…”
She leaned forward first, closing the space between them. Her fingers brushed his cheek, tentative, reverent. “I’m tired of being scared.”
His hands came up slowly, cupping her face as if she might vanish. “Me too.”
Their kiss was gentle at first, exploratory—years of longing wrapped in a single breath. Then it deepened, emotion spilling over, every unsaid word pouring into that moment.
Maggie’s hands curled into his jacket, grounding herself in him. OA held her like she was something precious, irreplaceable.
When they finally pulled back, foreheads resting together, both of them were breathing hard.
“Guess there’s no pretending now,” she murmured.
A soft smile curved his lips. “Good.”
He pressed another kiss to her forehead, then her temple, lingering. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever comes next.”
She nodded, leaning into his chest. “Together.”
“Always.”
And for the first time in a long while, Maggie Bell felt truly safe—not because of the badge, or the gun, or the job.
But because OA Zidan was holding her, and neither of them was running anymore.