<𝟑 .ᐟ Au Calme ⌞ Chamber ⌝
SUMMARY: Congratulations, you’re the newest rookie in the Valorant Protocol. You should be thrilled, and you are. At first. But when your very first mission ends with you sobbing alone in a meeting room, where Chamber finds you, who is known for his cold heart and colder demeanor, but apparently, even he isn’t heartless enough to leave you crying by yourself.
WARNINGS: hurt/comfort, swearing, anxiety, signs of trauma, guns and violence
A/N: Whew! First fic on this page! This ended up being extremely long, but honestly it felt deserved given the occasion lol. I really hope this does well and reaches people who might enjoy what I write. (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
I hope you all like it! Please consider reblogging or liking to help me reach a bigger audience, it would mean a lot. Any feedback is always appreciated, and requests are open, so if you’d like to read more, don’t be shy about sending one in!
Have fun reading! (˵◝ ⩊ ◜˵)
You thought you were ready for this. You thought you were ready to fight for your world, fight for your people and do some good. You thought you could handle all the pressure that comes with being an agent for the Valorant Protocol.
Because right now, you were sitting on the floor of the meeting room, long after the debrief for today’s mission had ended. You felt exhausted, not from the mission though, but from crying. You hadn’t been much use today anyway.
All of it happened in a blur. One moment you were firing at the attackers; the next, Jett, who was standing right beside you, was hit in the shoulder, letting out a heart wrenching scream.
What had you done? Nothing. You froze. You wanted to move. You wanted to help the Korean girl out, to drag her behind cover, to call for Sage, or anything. But your body wouldn’t listen. All you could do was stare as Jett clutched her shoulder, blood dripping down between her fingers, staining her clothes before the HK433 fell from her hand and hit the ground. The sound barely even reached you.
A sharp ringing filled your ears, drowning out the gunfire, the shouting, everything. Jett dropped lower beside you, and still, you couldn’t move. Then you saw Phoenix running toward you both, yelling something you couldn’t understand.
Behind him, Omen and Chamber finished clearing the site, the last shots fading into silence. Sage arrived minutes later. After that, everything became a blur: her glowing hands, Phoenix’s worried voice, Jett’s pale face.
And you, standing there, still frozen. You didn't even remember how you got back to the headquarters in the first place.
The debrief was short, clinical, almost too clean.
Omen went over entry angles. Chamber corrected the timing of the final push. Sage explained Jett’s injury in a calm voice, saying the bullet had missed anything vital.
No one mentioned you. At least not directly.
But when Brimstone paused over the footage from site, the silence stretched a second too long. Your figure stood on the screen beside Jett, unmoving, even as Phoenix broke cover and ran toward her.
“Phoenix reacted quickly,” Brimstone said at last. That was all. No accusation. No anger. Somehow that made it worse.
You kept your eyes on the table, fingers digging into your palms, waiting for someone to say it. Waiting for Jett to look at you. Waiting for the word everyone was avoiding.
Instead, Brimstone only took a deep breath and brought the meeting to an end, dismissing the agents. Everyone gathered their things and left, including Brimstone himself. You meant to do the same.
But the moment you pushed yourself up from your chair, your knees gave out beneath you. Before you could catch yourself, you were already on the floor, your knees pressed against the cold surface as your breath hitched in your throat.
And that was it. You finally broke.
The tears came at once, spilling down your cheeks as you started sobbing uncontrollably before you could stop. Your body wouldn’t listen anymore. Not after everything.
You didn’t know how long you stayed there, crying on the floor. You felt exhausted, but you still couldn't stop yourself.
Chamber was already halfway down the hall when he realized he had forgotten his notepad.
A quiet sigh left him as he stopped, turning back toward the meeting room. It was careless of him. Unlike him. His mind had been elsewhere since the meeting ended; still replaying the footage, Brimstone’s silence, the way no one had said what they were all thinking.
By the time he reached the door, he expected the room to be empty. But then he heard it: Quiet sobs and sniffling noises coming from the inside.
The man paused, his hand hovering over the handle. For a moment, he thought he might have imagined it. Then it came again: a muffled sob, shaky and exhausted.
His expression shifted from an annoyed one (the only thing annoying the Frenchman was his carelessness to be honest) to a concerned one.
Slowly, he pushed the door open and found you on the floor, curled in on yourself, shoulders trembling as you cried like there was no tomorrow.
The notepad was still on the table but Chamber barely looked at it.
He hesitated for a moment. He wasn't exactly the comforting type. He was afraid of hurting you further, but something inside him just wouldn’t allow him to leave you. Instead, he made his way to you with quick strides.
You still hadn’t noticed him. Chamber hesitated, then decided to call out to you first. He opened his mouth, your agent name already on the tip of his tongue, but the word never came. It felt wrong in this moment. Too formal. Too distant. This moment was too raw, too vulnerable, and using that name felt like it would only push you further away. So instead, he softened his voice and said your real name:
''Y/N? It's me, Ch-'' The man stopped. He shook his head and reached out to place his hand on your shoulder. Intimate moment, he reminded himself. Fais plus d'efforts, Vincent; he thought. ''It's me, Vincent.''
His voice startled you, dragging you sharply back to reality. You hadn’t heard him enter the room at all. Slowly, you lifted your head, your eyes falling to the hand resting gently on your shoulder. Heat rushed to your face. You quickly wiped at your cheeks, hoping he hadn’t noticed the tears, and forced yourself to take a steadying breath.
“H-hi, Vincent,” you said, your voice wavering despite your best efforts. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. Do you need the room?”
You hoped he would say yes. You hoped he would give you an excuse to leave and continue your pity party in your bedroom. But his reply was exactly what you had been afraid of:
“Ah, non,” Vincent said softly. “I forgot my bloc-notes… uh, my notepad in here.” His gaze lingered on you, a concerned gaze on his face “I heard you though, and I couldn’t bring myself to ignore it.”
He hesitated, his hand slipping carefully from your shoulder.
“I’m sorry if I bothered you,” he added. “I can leave immediately, if you’d rather be alone.”
You had always admired Chamber. He was intelligent, articulate, and well-spoken, with a composure that remained sharp and unshaken even under the most unbearable pressure. He was also dashingly handsome, which wasn’t exactly relevant in this moment, but it certainly didn’t hurt to point out. More than anything though, you appreciated his thoughtfulness. So despite your bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks, you managed to give him a warm and genuine smile.
“It’s alright,” you replied softly. “I’m… kind of glad you’re here, actually.” Your voice grew quieter as you looked away, your gaze settling on some random mark in the tiled floor beneath you. “I’ve been alone in here for too long,” you muttered.
Then you heard something you could’ve sworn you’d never heard before, not once since you first joined the team: His chuckle.
Your head snapped up, eyes landing on his laughing face. It was beautiful, really. The way his lips curled upward, even with that stupidly smug look still clinging to him. The way his eyes narrowed just slightly.
You were almost certain this was the longest conversation you’d had with him since the beginning. He was notorious for locking himself in his office for days, buried in designs and improvements for the Protocol’s firearms. Your thoughts were interrupted by his voice once again (not that you were complaining).
“You get used to it.” He paused for a second, then quickly continued. “At first, it’s scary. You don’t know what to do. Then, as shitty and fucked up as it is, you get used to it. You react quicker. You start thinking again quicker. And at some point, you don’t even bat an eye before going right back to what you were doing.” He sighed. “It’s the harsh reality of this line of work, but I promise you ma chérie, it does get better.”
You knew he was saying something supportive and important. You really did. But all you could think about was that sweet French pet name. Even though the two of you weren’t intimate in that way, the nickname felt… right? Too right. You adored it. You knew he probably didn’t mean anything by it, and yet you couldn’t stop the heat creeping up your cheeks.
Only then did you realize he had stopped talking several seconds ago. He was sitting there in silence, waiting for your response, while you had been busy daydreaming.
“It’s sad,” you muttered. And it was. It was sad. It wasn’t something you wanted to get used to. “But I guess that’s what we signed up for, right?” you added, letting out a small, humorless chuckle.
“Oui, we did. Which is why we should be able to understand each other and support one another.” His voice softened. “Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Don't be shy to come up and talk with me, with us. What happened wasn’t your fault, and you’re not a bad person for freezing in that moment. It could’ve happened to any one of us.” He paused, his gaze steady and sincere. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
You nodded at him, feeling your chest tighten at his words. You were the rookie. It would’ve been very easy for each and every member of the team to simply ignore you and keep doing what they’d been doing before you came along. But Vincent was right, everyone had welcomed you warmly. You had been almost instantly adopted into the group. You were aware of that, of course, but not to this extent. His words really helped you realize it.
You wanted to thank him in some sort of way, and so the words left your mouth before you could even filter them properly. “Can I hug you?”
For the first time ever, you saw his expression shift from calm and smug to surprised and flustered. He was quick to restore his composure, though, immediately slipping back into that familiar confidence and smugness. You could almost hear the smirk in his voice.
“If it’s going to make you feel better, sure,” he said, opening his muscular arms and inviting you in with a smirk.
You reached for him, stepping into his embrace and wrapping your arms tightly around him. He did the same, and you caught a whiff of his perfume.
He smelled oddly fruity and floral. You had pegged him for more of a vanilla, sandalwood, and musk kind of guy, but he was full of surprises, wasn’t he?
As you pondered his scent and silently appreciated his efforts to help you feel better, you felt your worries begin to fade away. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe.
