A/N: Set after the events of "Stand Your Ground." Not beta'd. This will be a multi-chapter story. Constructive criticism much appreciated!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter 1
"Calleigh!"
With that one desperate, gut-wrenching cry, Calleigh's world ripped apart. This was a routine call. Just a routine call. Where the hell is Frank??
She knew better. Even though crime scenes were supposed to be secured before CSIs entered, that wasn't always the case. Calleigh loved plans, but things didn't always go as planned. Criminals came back to the scene. Criminals hid.
Eric was just commenting on a cabinet that seemed to be out of place when they heard a noise coming from the back of the fourth-floor apartment. She took the first room as he headed toward the master bedroom at the far end of the hall, guns drawn.
She checked the closets, under the bed, "Clear!" In the hallway once more, Calleigh paused to check the linen closet. Then she heard Eric's shout of "Miami Dade PD," a gunshot, the muffled cries. "Calleigh!"
She wasn't aware of her body moving, only that she was suddenly in the master bedroom, headed toward the French doors, the balcony, and the man with the bat poised to strike an unarmed Eric. "MDPD, drop your weapon!" The assailant ignored the warning. His swing sent Eric flying over the railing. Calleigh saw red as she pulled the trigger once, twice and watched the body fall to the ground.
Eric. Fearing the worst, Calleigh rushed to the balcony, kicking the baseball bat aside, exhaling when she realized he was still hanging on to the rail with one hand. "Calleigh, get me up! My right's broken, I can't hold on."
In a swoop Calleigh had both hands on her partner, pulling and tugging as hard as she could. Their eyes locked, and Eric's brown orbs betrayed the fear that his calm voice masked. "Kick your leg on three, and I'll pull. One, two, three." God he's heavy, she grunted to herself. "Damn it Eric, pull! There, use your elbows. FRANK!"
Several heavy tugs later Eric tumbled on top of her on the balcony, knocking them both to the floor in a tangled mess. He was completely limp. "Eric? Eric! Talk to me, please." Calleigh shifted her weight to get a better look at him, chest heaving from the exertion of pulling him over the rail. When he was fully in her view and her adrenaline began to subside, she could see that his chest was heaving just as much as hers.
Eric's face contorted in pain. "Cal… Cal I can't breathe. Base—ball bat."
"Shh, shh, it's okay, try to slow it down a bit, match my breathing, 'kay?" How she managed to slow her own breathing to calm him down, Calleigh had no clue. But she spoke to him slowly and softly, caressed his face and the back of his neck, rubbed the length of his back until his breathing became a little less erratic.
That's how a breathless Frank found them, at last, with gun in hand. "Calleigh, what the hell happened?" The only emotions registering on Frank's face were shock and confusion, eyes wide at the dead body on the floor. If he was surprised at the position in which he discovered the two CSIs—also prone on the floor of the balcony— he didn't show it. "I heard the gunshots and ran back up the stairs."
"The scene wasn't secure, Frank. Get someone on the phone now, Eric needs help." Calleigh gently turned her best friend onto his back so that he could breathe more easily. Blood streamed from wounds at the edge of his hairline and the bottom of one eye socket, and he kept his right arm close to his body. Frank returned to the bedroom yelling full force at an operator to dispatch an ambulance.
"Cal—" Eric tried to speak.
"Shh, I'm not going anywhere. Try not to talk. You need to save your breath." Eric trusted her implicitly. His head throbbed, and every time he attempted a breath his chest burned with the fire of a thousand stabbing knives. But when he looked into her sea-green eyes, he knew everything would be okay. He nodded infinitesimally, and leaned into the hand cradling his face, into the body half-covering his own. Somewhere in the distance, he heard sirens approaching.