So for the first time in a long time, I plan to make this a multi-chapter story instead of being lazy and writing little one-shots. Review, por favor!

She wasn't ten feet from the Hummer when the first hot tear trailed down her horror-flushed cheeks. Soon following was a sob, but it caught stubbornly in her throat, refusing to sound. She tried to concentrate on the soft padding of her stilettos above the slightly damp grass. Tried to stop the tears, the sobs, but to no avail. She was breaking down.

Horatio Caine knew that Calleigh Duquesne did not cry-in public, at least. He watched her retreating figure walk slowly towards the county vehicle, then slump slightly, her shoulders shaking. He didn't need to see her face to know that it was probably streaked with tears. Seeing Calleigh lose control, her walls down and kick-ass attitude replaced with extreme despair, broke his heart even more than it already had for Eric. He wanted to do something for her, comfort her, but he knew that the one person who could do just that was only God knows where.

Still, as he observed her, something was off…besides the obvious, anyway. She had been somewhat pale for a couple of days now, and was eating very little. She had passed it off as a small case of the flu-it was going around the lab after all. Hmm. Yes, something was off.

***

Calleigh finally made it to the Hummer, to secluded quiet and tinted windows, where no one could see her drain all emotion through her eyes. When most of the tears had stopped, she raised her head off the steering wheel, sniffing, and pulled down the mirror to observe her face.

Physically and emotionally, she looked drained. Her eyes were a striking aqua; a color she knew only resulted from crying, or, in this case, bawling. Dark bags sunk under her eyes and black streaks of mascara marked the tear tracks proudly. On top of it all, the muggy heat, enhanced by the swampy terrain and her black suit, was causing her to sweat horribly.

When she was positive that her vision would not be impaired by water, she turned the key and drove slightly – okay, more than slightly – over the legal limit down the worn dirt road, eager to get home. It took her nearly three hours to do so, after making a stop at the lab to pick up her car, but the soccer moms' mini-vans and many expensive shopping centers of Bal Harbor were a welcome sight. Home at last.

Pulling into the driveway sloppily, she slammed the door of her off-duty car and hurried inside with unexplained giddiness. As soon as she entered the kitchen, the instinctive first place to go, she thought about what would be going on in here on a normal evening. She would her him humming some random tune to himself, busying naturally around posts and pans as wonderful Latin aromas wafted from them. He would smile and walk to her, to impatient for her to come to him, and lean in for their custom welcome-home kiss: three slow presses and occasionally the swipe of a tongue, which led to bigger and better things.

But since this was not a normal evening, there was no humming, no delicious food, and most definitely no Eric. Coming out of her reverie, the giddiness left her body as her brain realized this fact with difficulty. No Eric? How could there be no Eric? Eric was always there…

The suddenly all-too-familiar prick of tears behind her eyes made her remember her original intentions for home: shower, book, tea…that. Calleigh sighed, grabbing a glass of water for good measure. It had been a long day.

The hot spray of water had been a very welcomed relief. Now, in loose pajama pants and tank top, Calleigh dug in the basket in the furthest, darkest corner of the cabinets under the sink and pulled out the purplish-pink box she had bought on her way home from work a couple of days ago. After using the toilet, she sat the test ton top of the counter and passed the three long minutes by finding her favorite Elmer Kelton book and turning back the bed before returning to the bathroom.

She knew. Had known for nearly a week. She just needed this confirmation. Calleigh's first thought was to toss it in the trash; but she knew that in the morning she would need the proof. Leaving it on the counter, she returned to bed, forgetting entirely the hot tea and book lying welcomingly on the bedside table.

As she hugged his pillow, his scent now part of the fabric, she said a prayer for the fist time in a long time. Dear God, please, please bring him back to me. I need him. We both need him…

AN: Sooooo. Thoughts, feedback, praise, hate, whatever, just review please!