Author's note: This takes place before C/E got together, sometime in season 7. It is part 1 of probably either 2 or 3 chpaters- there is much, muhc more to this story. Rating may change.
Discalimer: Not mine, they belong to CBS and a number of others.
Burst
The circumstances that surrounded the events of the day were simultaneously clear and muddled. Eric felt the light cotton sheets upon his legs and moved to kick them off, attempting to alleviate some of the heat trapped inside of the sheets. The action only served to further tangle the fabric around his limbs, however, and with a frustrated sigh, he threw a sticky, sweat laden forearms over his eyes, trying to keep the images out of his head, to little avail.
He snuck a glance at the clock on the bedside table and audibly groaned when he saw the red numbers staring back at him. It was early- too early- and any sleep he had gotten had been plagued by dreams- nightmares- that left his mind restless and his eyes burning with anger and longing and a deep, tired ache.
Making a decision, he sat up fully in the bed with a heavy sigh, his back flush against the headboard, his head resting upon the top of the oak panel. He looked around in the darkness as another strong flash of images assaulted his vision and he squeezed his eyes closed tightly and cradled his head in his hands. It was then that he allowed the past hours to come rushing to the forefront of his mind for the first time.
The call had come in the morning of his day off, rousing him from his slumber. He entertained the thought of ignoring it for a fleeting moment before accepting that it could be of an important nature and flipped his phone open without even looking at the name that came up on the caller I.D. He answered in his usual fashion, his voice still rough from sleep. When silence greeted him on the other line, he greeted them with a simple, questioning hello, again with no reply. A part of him hoped it was simply a wrong number and as he had his thumb on the red 'end' button, a voice finally came through the line.
"Eric?" a voice called softly, uncertain.
He sat up immediately, suddenly alert.
"Calleigh," he breathed, "What's up… is everything alright?"
He heard a noise on the other end, a rushing of some kind that he couldn't quite identify that was quickly covered by the sound of her nervous chuckle.
"Yeah... um... well, no. I know that it's your day off and this is unbearably rude to have called you this early in the morning but, um… help?"
The drive to BAL Harbor went without incident and quickly parked his car in the visitor's space. Per her instructions, he had worn a pair of old, faded jeans and a ratty college t-shirt- why, he didn't know. In her haste, Calleigh hadn't actually explained why he was coming over; just that she was in dire need of assistance. He took the stairs two at a time and reached her door quickly. He had barely knocked when her heard her voice inviting him in.
He stepped into her tidy apartment but saw no evidence of his co-worker. He called out to her and heard her faint reply coming from somewhere in the back of the apartment. He moved farther back, scanning for any sign of her when his ears picked up on the sound he had heard on the phone- a gentle swishing, rushing sound. It got louder with every step he took and reached its peak as he rounded the entry way to the kitchen. As he rounded the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him.
Calleigh had her back turned to him and she was on her knees, kneeling in front of the open cupboard doors below her kitchen sink. In her hands, she held a towel that was clamped tightly over a large pipe that was currently spewing water all over the small kitchen, the floor, and Calleigh herself. Below her, there had to be a good three inches of standing water that swirled around her bare feet.
He stood there for a few seconds, his mouth a gape, fighting the chuckle that was currently trying to make its way out of his open mouth.
He saw her sigh exasperatedly, her shoulders heaving, and with a quick turn of her head, she shouted his name. As the name came out of her mouth, she saw him out of the corner of her eye and gave a small start, bringing a free hand to her chest to signify her fright. As she did, however, more water gushed out of the pipe and she quickly let the other hand join its partner to quell the leak.
He clamped his mouth shut, forcing down the bubbling laughter in his throat.
"Oh, Eric, thank God! I'm sorry, I didn't know what to do… my super is on vacation, there isn't a damn plumber apparently in Miami that wanted to come to work today, and I couldn't, I don't…"
She spoke quickly, the accent in her voice adding to the frenzy of her words.
"I just… I don't…" she stopped, clearly frustrated, and her lip came out in a pout. He had to clamp his teeth down on his lip to keep a smile from forming on his face.
"God… Eric, it's broken. You're a man… please fix it!" The words came out in a rush, her frustration coloring every word.
With that, the pipes gave a loud creak, the water gushing out increasing ten fold. As it did, it sprayed her directly in her face, catching her off guard and knocking her flat on her backside. She gave a small, surprised squeak and sat there a few seconds after, simply staring at the pipes. Her face was a mix of anger, surprise, and just a hint of desperation.
He couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw tears come to her eyes, but he quickly shook that thought aside. There was too much water surrounding her face to tell the difference and to add to that, Calleigh Duquesne very, very rarely cried. He doubted that the rupture of a water pipe would dissolve her to tears.
He acted then, going over to her and with little effort picking her up off the floor and placing her onto her feet. She looked up at him and nodded without words, moving to the side as he went in to inspect the damage. Kneeling, he picked up the towel and clamped the leak as best could. He peered closely and a mere few moments later, he quietly asked for the wrench that lay on the counter on top of a dishtowel. With a few turns of the wrench, the rushing of the water stopped and he took his hands off of the pipe, dropping the soaked towel with a heavy flop onto the water laden floor. He stood, shook off his hands and finally turned to look for Calleigh, his job completed. He found her in one of the kitchen chairs, sitting, her hands bunched in her lap and her head lowered to her lap as well.
He spoke for the first time then with a soft "hey" as he moved toward her, his shoes squeaking on the wet linoleum. When he reached her, he put a hand underneath her chin and gently turned it toward him, her eyes finally meeting his.
His brow furrowed, he saw her chin shaking and her eyes red rimmed as she held back what seemed to be embarrassed tears.
He kneeled in front of her, his shoes once again making a loud squeak on the floor.
He spoke with compassion in his voice and also a sense of joy to try to lighten the mood.
She spoke in a rush then, her cheeks turning a light pink with a slight shake to her voice.
"Oh, God, Eric, I'm such an idiot! I tried to fix it, and then it only got worse and I got the wrench and then it just got everywhere and then I tired to fix it again and it only made it worse and then I called you and I'm so sorry that I woke you up on your day off for this. I mean, I'm a CSI for God's sake. The goddamn ballistics expert for crying out loud. I can talk about striations and calibers all day but I can't fix a water pipe and…!"
She broke off as the chuckle that Eric had been holding in since he had arrived broke out of his mouth, color the air around them.
"Calleigh, really, it's no big deal. It happens- life happens. And if I remember correctly, this is also your day off so it's okay, really. You didn't exactly deserve this. I'm happy to help- I'm happy that you called me."
She looked down again at her hands, then looked up at his again.
"Really?" she asked her voice small and still uncertain.
He simply nodded his reply and with a relieved sigh, she stood.
She suddenly gained her confident stride back, a smile breaking out on her face as she walked by him to grab the towel out of from underneath the wrench that still lay on the counter. She turned back toward him, attempting to gain some semblance of dignity back as she tried to dab the water from her still dripping face.
He laughed again and stepped toward her, motioning for her to give him the towel. As she handed him the towel, he closed the remaining distance between them and gently wiped her face, the droplets gathering on the soft cotton. She smiled at him then, a gentle, thankful smile.
It was then that he fully took in her appearance. As his eyes took her in, he couldn't help but rake them down her body as well. She was wet, he observed, drenched even, and the soft black cotton tank top and gym shorts that she wore hugged her body very tightly and left very little to the imagination.
With what he hoped was an inaudible gulp, he willed himself to keep focused on the job at hand- simply ridding her of any obtrusive water upon her face.
Before he knew it, however, his hands seemed to work of their own volition and suddenly the towel was gone, placed on the counter perhaps, he didn't remember ,and instead of the towel, his fingers traced the skin of her cheek bones, slid over the top of her forehead and pushed a strand of stray, wet hair back that was blocking his view of her eyes. The eyes that were currently locked with his, questioning, but also sharing with him intensity that he couldn't explain.
His fingertips traced their way down to her lips, skimmed her jaw and rested where her jaw met the graceful line of her neck.
She was looking at him, her mouth slightly open, eyes hooded, and he could physically see her fighting with herself to ignore the sensation that he knew she felt because he did as well.
They stood there for a long moment, his fingers still moving lightly over her skin, itching to move over the rest of her body. They remained silent, only looking, gazes locked.
She broke the silence only seconds later, his name falling from her lips with a slight whimper, her eyes finally falling from his eyes to his lips. He took what he hoped was an invitation as soon as it was offered, his mouth surging on to her own.
The first kiss was passionate but chaste, lip to lip, and he held there for a moment, unsure of what he'd just done, afraid that he'd crossed a boundary, ruined a friendship that he valued above all else.
The fears were dashed, however, when he felt her hands rush up to his chest, her hands gripping the front of his shirt, her lips moving against his. He deepened the kiss immediately, his tongue rushing to meet hers in a fury of passion. Their breathing was all that filled the kitchen air as he moved his hands to her hair, running his fingers over what he could grip, marveling that even at its most messy, tangled moment, he loved the feel of her hair against his hands.
They embraced in the middle of her kitchen, lost in the moment, neither willing it to end. His ears picked up another sound along with their breathing and he struggled to pull himself out of his haze, as torturous as it was, so he could identify the sound.
He only realized that it was them, moving in the pool of water, when he felt the hard wood of the table at the back of his thighs.
He broke the kiss then, ignoring her whine, pulling back to look Calleigh in the eye, his hands coming to rest on her cheeks, searching.
What he found there was shocking- need, lust, want, desire- it was all there for him. She let out a small, strangled "please" and he barely registered nodding before her lips were on his again. He felt himself laying back on the table, the kiss never breaking, as she crawled onto the table to join him.