Title: Heat

Pairing: Horatio/OFC

Rating: T (just in case)

Spoilers: None...unless you haven't watched season 4 yet.

Summary: The discovery of a young woman's body in Bicentennial Park sparks a case investigation which becomes increasingly personal for Horatio. A sequel to 'Chasing Phoenix' and part two of the 'Saving Grace' trilogy.

Standard pre-fanfic spiel: CSI: Miami and all related characters remain the property of CBS, I am making no money from this fanfic etc…

A/N: I've been far too remiss in posting this - it was virtually finished about a year ago, but somehow I got distracted and it got shelved. Then, a couple of weeks ago I decided to dust it off, get my ass into gear and finish it. Like it says in the summary this is a sequel to my previous fic called 'Chasing Phoenix' it's not necessary to go back and read that story (I've tried to make Heat pretty self-explanatory), but it might help to explain who one of the central characters is. This is a mix of action, investigation and pure, unadulterated fluff!! Hope you enjoy!

Heat.

Chapter 1 – At Death's Door.

The gentle swish of the hospital's automatic doors heralded Calleigh's entrance. She walked quickly forward, her high-heels clicking loudly on the light-coloured tiled floor, echoing off the bare walls of the sparse clinical environment. As she progressed, the sounds that washed over her changed, not as though Calleigh noticed too much however; her mind was far too preoccupied. Gradually the gentle hum of conversation died away behind her and was replaced by the steady, quiet pulse of beeping monitors as she walked past the general wards of the Jackson Memorial and on towards the intensive care unit of the Ryder Trauma Centre. Her frequent official visits to victims in the various wards of Miami's many hospitals had given her a pretty complete mental map of the Jackson Memorial Hospital, and staff were so used to seeing Calleigh or one of her CSI colleagues stalking down the corridors on a mission to interview a victim, or in the less fortunate of cases to collect the cadaver and personal effects of those who hadn't made it, that no-one raised an eyebrow or questioned her authority to be there. Today however, her visit was somewhat out of the ordinary and her mental map had apparently deserted her, the corridors that she could usually navigate in her sleep seemed foreign and unfamiliar, she had to stop briefly a few times and take a couple of seconds to work out where she was before once again heading off in the general direction of her intended destination.

Today there was a more personal reason for her presence and perhaps this explained why her photographic memory of the hospital's layout had temporarily deserted her; her own private feelings whizzing around at break-neck speed, creating a hurricane in her mind, pushing all other thoughts from her neural pathways. This visit, unlike the hundreds that had preceded it, was being made off-duty.

Eventually, despite her brief lack of orientation, Calleigh arrived at the double doors that signalled the entrance to the ICU, which she pushed open and navigated her way around the host of medical equipment that stood, staggered in her path, apparently dumped anywhere after the panic of a code blue. Suddenly and inexplicably she found herself thinking that medical professionals really should be a little more organised with their equipment, even before the thought had finished forming in her head she was chastising herself for her ridiculous thought. Calleigh rounded one last corner, making a conscious effort to plaster a reassuring smile to her face just in case there was anyone else in the vicinity. It was one trait that she'd taken from her mother, to put on a happy face even when times were tough, when you couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel; no matter how bad things got, you never let anyone see your weaknesses, your doubts. So she smiled. The smile and the automatic response of 'I'm fine' were Calleigh's armour, her protection from letting anyone get too close to her.

Suddenly she stopped in her tracks, for she had just seen that the bed she was heading towards, that should hold the patient that she was most anxious to see; was empty. 'Empty?' A wave of panic washed over her causing her to shiver and making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Calleigh could feel the adrenaline start to surge into her bloodstream. Her heart, responding to this sudden anxiety, started to beat quicker, circulating the recently produced stimulant through her body faster. Surely someone would have paged her if something had happened. She'd phoned at least four times during the day to check on progress. Had something gone wrong? Her head spinning a little she called out to a nurse who was engrossed in checking the IV line of another patient across the other side of the room.

"Um, excuse me ma'am?" The smooth Southern drawl even managed to mask the nervous shake in her voice.

The nurse turned around with a start, not really expecting to meet anyone conscious other than staff in the ICU. As she turned, Calleigh recognised her as Vanessa Owens, a constantly cheerful nurse who had befriended a patient from one of Calleigh's past cases. Vanessa had persuaded a nervous young college girl to testify in her rape case; a nervous young college girl whose testimony had helped put the serial rapist behind bars for a very long time, and Calleigh remained eternally grateful for the nurse's cooperation.

"Calleigh, Hey!" There was a slight pause as Vanessa took in Calleigh's ashen appearance. "Honey, you look white as a sheet, you OK?"

For once words failed Calleigh, and she could only motion impotently towards the empty bed, and was quite surprised when Vanessa gave a little laugh and put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"Oh sweetie, I'm sorry, I guess no-one let you know…" Her hanging words made Calleigh fear the worst possible scenario and she felt something grip around her heart, squeezing as if trying to stop it pumping the much needed blood around her body.

"Your friend's been classified as stable, and the surgeons are pleased with how the wounds look post-op so he's been moved up to a private room to recover in peace, Just a second, I'll check the charts in the nurses' station and I'll let you know which room he's in."

Immeasurable relief. The warmth flowed back through her body instantly and the tight feeling around her heart immediately dissipated. Calleigh's bright smile returned to her face; a genuine smile this time, not a forced necessity. Stable; thank God. That was the best news she'd had all day. She was brought out of her uplifted thoughts by Vanessa's return.

"Ok, if you can wait just a minute while I finish with this," she motioned towards her patient, "I'll take you up."

"Oh thanks Vanessa, but I don't want to interrupt your schedule. Just tell me which room it is and I'll find my way, no problem." The lessening of the worry and panic that had haunted Calleigh all day made her aware that her mental map of the hospital had returned with full force.

The nurse chuckled. "I daresay you will. Seriously Calleigh, you know your way around this place better than some of the doctors. He's in room 317, I'll pop in and check up on you in a while."

"Thanks a lot 'Ness, catch you later." Calleigh threw a wave over her shoulder as she walked out of the ICU, back towards the general wards, a broad smile playing on her lips. Her brain was already busy at work; mentally planning the quickest route to room 317.

Minutes later she was slipping silently into the side room, where regular, heavy breathing told her he was still asleep, she stepped carefully, keeping her weight on the balls of her feet, afraid that the clicking of her shoes would echo around the clinical minimalism of the hospital room and disturb the patient. Calleigh lowered herself quietly into the chair beside the bed from where she could survey her friend's sleeping form, and gently flicked a strand of red-gold hair out of Horatio's face and smiled as he twitched his nose. It struck Calleigh as such a strange sight; the normally huge stature of this gentle giant that she saw using an endless supply of strength and compassion to hold the weight of the world on his shoulders on a daily basis suddenly looked so small as he lay unconscious in the hospital bed. But she knew without any trace of doubt that he would grow again to be that giant of a man. After all, it would take more than a bullet to stop Horatio Caine.

A small tap on her thigh made her look down, and she was surprised to see a water droplet soaking into the light material of her trousers. Calleigh lifted her left hand to her cheek and realised that it too was wet. The tears had come to her eyes subconsciously, the emotions that she had struggled to keep locked away all day finally finding a chink in her armour through which they could escape. Calleigh once again thought about how she had been taught at a young age that to wear your heart out on your sleeve for everyone to see was a dangerous thing, a sign of weakness that in law enforcement could earn you a long stay in a hospital bed, or worse, a short stay in the city morgue. When she had first started to work under the tutelage of Horatio, however, she had begun to wonder whether this fear of emotions was justified. After all Horatio was totally unafraid to let his passion show, and until now he hadn't suffered for it. Until now. Suddenly the fear, that over the years had been eroded away; diminished by the confidence Horatio had given her, had returned with a vengeance. Suddenly Calleigh was a ten year old girl again sprinting away across the fields of Louisiana, running from the threat of an abusive, alcoholic father and a mother too drugged up to care.

Horatio had become so much more than just her boss over the years she had known him. He had handpicked her, travelled all the way to New Orleans to meet this young spitfire of a ballistics expert and after only half an hour in her company had professed to knowing that she was the expert he wanted to join his team of forensics experts. He had become her mentor and when her own daddy couldn't find his way out of the solace he had sought at the bottom of a bottle Horatio had looked out for her, protected her and become a surrogate father, one who she would never hesitate to turn to for help if she needed it. He was the only person that she felt comfortable confiding her thoughts and fears to, with Horatio there was never any need to put on a brave face and to hide behind a false smile, he'd always see through it anyway. When he told her that no matter what the time of day or night he would always be there for her to talk to, she believed him, had even taken him at his word and showed up on his doorstep at three in the morning before and true to his declaration he'd taken her in and listened, been a shoulder to cry on, been her rock.

Now, seeing this seemingly invincible colossus so near to the brink of death was like a knife in her heart. Calleigh, who had seen more death and suffering than a great many people, knew better than to think of anyone as immortal, but with Horatio, you just couldn't help it. The man simply radiated invincibility. She couldn't evade the feeling of helplessness knowing that there was nothing else she could do but sit at his side all the hours she was able and stroke his hand, whispering a constant dialogue. Relaying the evidence they had collected from the latest cases and the general office gossip, telling him how much everyone missed his constant presence at the lab.

Placing her hand in his Calleigh leaned forward and laid her head on the bed beside the figure of her sleeping colleague, allowing herself just a few minutes of exhausted sleep.

Just centimetres away Horatio's eyelids began to flicker sporadically as his eyeballs twitched underneath the thin layer of skin. Any doctor would have been able to identify R.E.M. or rapid eye movement, which showed that Horatio's mind was working intensely, passing image after image through the perceptive centres of memory, reliving events that he wouldn't allow himself to succumb to whilst awake.

In a room a few wards away from where the two CSIs were drifting in uncomfortable slumber a nurse checked a patient's stats, recording them on a clipboard that hung on the rails at the foot of the bed. A sparkling, white-gold engagement band sat delicately on the finger of the unconscious patient who was hooked up to a wide array of medical equipment, which was ready to notify surrounding personnel if the patient's condition changed. The figure was undoubtedly female, honey-blonde hair splayed out over the crisp white material of the pillow that supported her head, her face pulled into a worried frown in her unconscious state. This was the woman whose image was currently haunting Horatio's dreams, whose smile lit up his life and whose more recent pained expression had torn at his heart. The name printed on the top of the chart; Grace Turner.