A/N: A & E played Lost Son tonight and will repeat it tomorrow night. I've been hanging onto this one shot for a while now and thought with the season premiere of CSI and Lost Son I thought this would be a good time to post it.

The Last Request

Calleigh stood next to Horatio in the hallway of the Miami Dade Crime Lab and bit the inside of her cheek to help her keep her emotions in check. She listened to the sorrow in Horatio's voice as he spoke in soft tones to Tim Speedle's parents, her own heart echoing the sentiment behind Horatio's words.

As they turned to leave, Tim's mother, Kathryn, placed a gentle hand on Calleigh's arm. "Ms. Duquesne, would you mind if we spoke for a moment?"

"Of course, and, please, it's Calleigh," she replied as Horatio moved away, his shoulders slumping. "Tim and I were good friends. He's the one that trained me and he was a wonderful mentor. I owe him a lot."

Kathryn waited until Horatio turned the corner before speaking. "Tim had a special place in his heart for you, you know. He told us on more than one occasion that you were like a little sister to him and he loved you and respected you very much. I brought this along for you to read." She handed Calleigh a folded piece of paper. Calleigh opened it and began to read.

Mom and Dad,

I think today was the absolute worst day that I have ever had and yet, somehow, yesterday was the best. I'll start with today and work backwards. It's weird, I know, but it'll make sense.

Today was something called Dispo Day. It's the day when we take all the confiscated drugs from the last month and bring them to an undisclosed incinerator and burn them. I rode along on this dispo. Somehow word had leaked about it and we were ambushed. Mom, I don't want to scare you or anything, but there was a firefight and I got hit. Luckily my Kevlar vest caught it and I just had the wind knocked out of me. Another officer wasn't so lucky and he was killed. I was hit because my gun didn't discharge. It didn't discharge because I didn't clean it. When Calleigh processed my firearm she gave me grief right in the hallway and then again in the locker room she gave me nine different flavors of hell. I'd have been mad, but she only did it because she cares about me. I promised her that I'd try to remember to clean it more often. Horatio could have written me up for it, but he didn't, choosing instead to give me a new gun cleaning kit. I can't let them down.

Now to the good part. I came in extra early yesterday because we had to process all the drugs individually for dispo. The only other person that was in early was Calleigh. It was 6 am, but she's a morning person. I caught up to her in Trace. She was busily removing packages of cocaine and didn't see me come in. I'm glad she didn't because I got the most amazing treat. The woman can sing. Her voice was like liquid honey with that soft southern undercurrent. Wow. When she finally noticed me she got all embarrassed, but she shouldn't have been. It's a memory that I'll treasure.

I told you all of that because today made me think hard about my mortality. I'm not going to live forever and although I'm a CSI and we are only allowed to enter a secured crime scene, they're not always secure. Criminals can and do come back. If I hadn't put the vest on today, I'd have been killed. Accidents can happen and if, God forbid, I should be killed in the line of duty, I have a last request that I'd like for you to make of Calleigh for me. I want her to sing at my funeral service. I just want her to sing Amazing Grace because that's what she sang in Trace yesterday. I know it'll be a lot to ask of her, but please do this for me. It would mean the world to me to give the gift of her voice to those I love and love me.

I don't want to end on a sad note, but I need to go. Morning comes all too soon.

Love,

Timmy

Calleigh's eyes had teared up as she read and she wiped at the fresh moisture. She clenched her jaw and took several deep breaths before she could speak. "Mrs. Speedle, I, uhm...I didn't know and he...I'll do it and anything else you want. I can't say no."

Kathryn embraced this young woman who was obviously trying so very hard to be strong for her and her husband. "Thank you, Calleigh. I know Tim is happy."

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Alexx sat comfortingly sandwiched between Horatio and Eric and gazed around the church and all those that had gathered for Tim's funeral. She recognized faces from the Lab as well as many of the PD Homicide detectives, the Chief of Police and several representatives from the Mayor's office. Rick Stetler sat at a respectful distance from the CSI's, almost as if he didn't want to add to their pain by being too close. There were many faces that she didn't recognize and those she assumed to be Tim's friends and family. One person that she didn't see was Calleigh.

Alexx leaned toward Horatio. "Where's Calleigh? I know she's pretty broken up, we all are, but where is she?"

"Uhm, Alexx, I don't know," Horatio replied, his voice hoarse from restraining his emotions.

"Eric, did she say anything to you?" Alexx asked the red eyed man on her other side.

Eric shook his head. "She said she'd be here, but that she'd see us after the service. I don't see her either."

The three of them turned their heads to see Speed's parents being escorted by police honor guard up to the very front pew as the organist and soloist took their places just to the side of the altar. Once the Speedles were seated, the organ began to play as all eyes were drawn to the back of the church and the casket slowly making it's way down the aisle.

The soloist began to sing, softly, gently; voice full of emotion, washing over the team like liquid honey. It drew all their pain to the surface, yet soothed them as well. Curiosity overwhelming him, Eric tore his gaze from his friend's casket to where the soloist stood and felt his jaw drop when he saw who it was.

"Calleigh," he breathed, nudging Alexx.

Alexx turned her head in the direction Eric indicated, surprise widening her eyes. She, in turn, nudged Horatio. "Why didn't she say something?" Alexx asked.

"I don't know," Horatio said quietly, letting himself get lost in Calleigh's voice.

Eric closed his eyes and let Calleigh's voice wash over him, soothe him. She wasn't a trained singer, he knew that much; her ability was entirely natural. She never spoke about her past other than the occasional tidbit so he had no idea that she could sing. Speed apparently had and that made a sharp jealousy course through him. Immediately he was ashamed of himself. How could he be jealous of a dead man that happened to be like a big brother to him? Bowing his head, he continued to listen.

Calleigh kept her eyes shut through the entire song. She didn't dare open them for fear of losing control and ruining Tim's "gift" to everyone. She knew that the casket was making it's slow way up the center aisle and if she had to confirm that by opening her eyes, there would be nothing in the world that would make her hold back her grief. She let the loss, the pain she felt color her words, expressing herself in the tone and shape of the music, revealing a depth of emotion she'd never reveal otherwise. It was freeing, really, to be that open and raw with her emotions, yet never showing a second of weakness. That's why she loved music so much, that, if science had not taken up most of her passion, music certainly would have and she'd have tried to be some sort of professional musician. As fate spelled it out for her, she'd be a brilliant scientist and CSI and only a gifted amateur musician.

Calleigh only allowed herself to open her eyes when the music fell silent and she needed to return to her seat for the duration of the service. Blinking back tears at the sight of Tim's casket, she knew she had done the right thing in distancing herself from the pain by simply not looking. The Recessional was going to be harder, though, since she now had the visual reminder of the "older brother" she lost.

Finally, the time for the eulogy came and Horatio stood and walked to the pulpit to do the hardest job he had ever done: say good-bye to someone that was like a son to him.

Horatio cleared his throat. "I, uhm, I was with Tim when he died. As many of you know, he died while on duty and in a fire fight. He was a brave man, never once flinching in the face of danger. He was also a brilliantly gifted scientist. His skills in chemistry and dogged determination to see justice done was a Godsend to our Lab. He was also a gentleman and a good friend. Once, when a new trainee CSI, a female, was first transferred to our Lab, he mentored her and trained her and then, when he felt she was ready, he hazed her gently. It turned out not anywhere near the way he had hoped and instead of mildly disgusting her, she got violently ill. He immediately felt horrible and cleaned up the mess she'd made in autopsy and did all manner of small things over the following weeks to make it up to her. They became the best of friends and developed a sort of playful sibling rivalry between them.

"Tim was like a big brother to many of the lab techs and field CSI's. No one felt shy about confiding in him and he never told anyone about what he discussed with so many. Those secrets lay in his casket with him. Tim also brightened many of our days with his wry and sarcastic humor and beloved music that he blared wherever he worked. He said that silence was for the dead...Silence is what he left the world and us in. Silence..." Horatio's voice broke and he struggled for composure. "I'm sorry. Tim was like a son to me and it's very hard to believe that he's not going to be around to make anyone smile, to tease his colleagues, his friends, anymore; to comfort a friend when there are family troubles and disappointments, to go clubbing with even though the work shift begins at 7am, to split turkey sandwiches at lunch time and to accept dating advice from an older friend. But if I know Timothy Speedle as well as I hope I do, then he'd be supremely embarrassed by all of this mourning and want us all to go to the nearest club and have a mojito and toast him, telling stories and celebrating his life, a life that was too short. Thank you."

Horatio stepped down from the pulpit and returned to his seat. Alexx leaned against him, sniffling. He put his arm around her and drew her close.

"That was beautiful, Horatio," Alexx sniffed. "Timmy would have liked it."

Horatio nodded, too choked up to say much of anything. He couldn't really remember or even pay much attention to the rest of the service, he was so lost in his own thoughts. He had many fond memories of Speed, so many that he almost missed the beginning of the Recessional. Only Alexx's gentle hand on his arm brought his mind to the present. He suddenly felt himself choke up once again as the first strains of Danny Boy began. He prayed that Calleigh wouldn't sing because he didn't think he could take the emotion her voice would evoke in him.

Eric wiped furiously at his tearing eyes, listening to Calleigh's warm and soft voice. Speed had once, in a fit of drunken openness after a particularly bad case, admitted to Eric that Danny Boy was one of his all time favorite ballads and that when he was down, he'd listen to it. He had said that it soothed him and made him feel better. Eric had teased him but now he understood.

Alexx didn't even try to tough it out and bowed her head and wept, Calleigh's voice giving sound to her own heart breaking. She turned, burying her face in Eric's shoulder. Alexx had always loved Danny Boy growing up. Her best friend back home had been a first generation Irish American and her mom sang Danny Boy while she made soda bread. It brought back warm memories of song and piping hot bread and butter on cold New Jersey nights. Through her tears, Alexx found herself humming the tune, though a near octave lower than Calleigh's delicate soprano.

The three team members followed the casket out and waited on the church steps for their missing member. It wasn't long before Calleigh emerged, red-eyed and sniffling. She looked up as Alexx opened her arms. Calleigh buried herself in Alexx's embrace, finally allowing herself to break down and vent the pent up emotion. Hearing the soft sobs, Eric enfolded them both in his arms just as Horatio did the same. They stood in the intimately entangled knot of grief and held each other up, gave each other strength. Finally, after the heat of Miami forced them apart, as did the need to wipe eyes and blow noses, they stood together, almost at a lack of anything to say.

Alexx broke the silence. "Calleigh, honey, why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want the attention. I still don't. I would have rather been sitting with all of you," Calleigh said softly. "And I would have but Tim's mother showed me an email that he sent her a couple of years ago. He caught me singing in the Lab one morning and I guess it made an impression on him. He called it a gift that he wanted to share with those he loved, especially if anything happened to him. When she asked me, I-I couldn't say no; I mean it...and he..."

Eric wrapped her up in his arms. "Hey, it was a gift. I never knew you could do that and I'm glad Speed thought of it."

Horatio finally found his voice steady enough to speak. "You do have a gift and it only figures that Speed would have been the one to find it. He always could do things like that; find the gifts in those around him."

Alexx tapped his arm indicating the slowly departing hearse. "We'd better get a move on. We're right behind his parents' limo."

Calleigh pulled away from Eric and straightened her dark suit. "Today is about Tim. Let's go and finish the ceremonial part of the day. Horatio, I'm buying the first round of mojitos after the burial. I think we're all going to need it and Tim will haunt us for the rest of our lives if we don't do a little celebrating of his life."

Horatio cracked a small smile. "Amen to that, Calleigh. Amen to that."