Okay, so these neverending one-shots are getting old, no? lol. But it's not my fault that Eric has a lot to say. Anyway, this is Eric's therapy session from Down to the Wire; his full therapy session, instead of just the little tantalizing clip. That session took place a month after the shooting, which places it sometime after Broken Home in the canon timeline. Spoilers...for practically everything. Nothing you recognize belongs to me.
Eric had known before his first session that part of therapy would be about revealing his deepest, darkest fears and thoughts to someone he'd never met before – a total stranger that he was supposed to automatically trust.
He'd known before that first session that it would not be easy. He also knew that some secrets were better left unrevealed, even to him. After all, the parts of his life that he tried so desperately to ignore…he'd done that for a reason. He didn't want to stir up unwelcome memories.
Unfortunately, unwelcome memories were all that surrounded him during his first therapy session. They were all that surrounded him during three-quarters of his second therapy session. That Thursday, four days ago, Eric had walked out of his therapist's office with his lips in a thin line; he'd sworn he wasn't going to come back.
And yet, on this dreary, humid Monday, Eric found himself right back in the same white chair, in the same white-walled room, with the same complete stranger to whom he was supposed to bare his soul. The office was exactly the same as it had been for the last two sessions; the same, low light filled the room, and the same faint scent of roses lingered in the air, playing with Eric's shaky stomach. It was meant to be comforting, but to Eric, it was anything but.
Somehow, though, he'd managed to make it midway through his scheduled two-hour session, miraculous though it was. Eric had to defend his competency enough at work; he didn't want to come to therapy and do it here too. After the day he'd had, all Eric really wanted was to go home and sleep.
"Why don't you describe some of the side effects you've been experiencing lately?" his therapist, Dr. Landry, suggested, sensing Eric's reluctance to open up emotionally. She understood though; she was a patient woman, and this was only their third session. These things always took time, especially in cases such as this.
Eric just barely repressed the urge to glare; if he could remember, he'd already described his side effects no less than twenty times, and that was just in the past two days. All he wanted was for everything to go back to normal. "Sometimes I get dizzy. Sometimes I have headaches. I swear that, every time I shake my head, I can feel that bullet in there. I know that's irrational, but I swear I can feel it. I've had a, uh, dull ache ever since I got out of the hospital, and I don't know when that's going to go away. If it ever goes away."
Dr. Landry nodded. "Are you taking your medication regularly?"
"It doesn't help," Eric replied, his frustration evident in his voice. "None of it helps."
"Have you asked for something stronger?"
"No," replied Eric, sighing heavily. "If I took something stronger, then I wouldn't be able to do my job. I wouldn't even be able to drive in to work." Certainly, that was part of the reason. But there was another reason as well. In his line of work, Eric had seen what happens when people grow addicted to pain killers. As bad as his pain was, Eric was afraid he'd end up giving into that temptation; when two weren't enough, he was afraid he'd take four, just to get rid of the incessant ache in his head.
His doctor had told him that time would heal it; that, in time, Eric wouldn't notice it as much, and eventually it would fade away completely. "Give it time," he'd said. His doctor wasn't the only one to use that phrase, and it had very quickly become the last thing Eric ever wanted to hear again.
"Are you still having memory lapses at home?" Dr. Landry continued, pulling Eric from his rapidly darkening train of thought.
"Yeah," Eric muttered, leaning back in his chair. "Sometimes it's just everyday stuff that everyday people forget, you know? I forgot milk at the grocery store yesterday. I forgot my keys when I walked out of the lab on Friday. I forgot a couple of important phone numbers last week." He gave a deflated shrug, looking to Dr. Landry with frustration in his eyes. "People forget those things every day. I know that. But I'm not them. I – I can't forget."
"Unfortunately, that's something you have to come to terms with. You said it yourself – people forget those things every day. Does it mean you're in a downward spiral if you forget them as well? No, not at all, Eric." Pausing, she gave Eric a reassuring smile. "Unless you remembered the milk every single time, or unless you had a perfect, photographic memory before the shooting, then what you're experiencing here is normal, even for people who don't have bullet fragments lodged in their temporal lobe. I have to stop by the store later, and I can almost guarantee that I'll forget something."
Lacking a refuting argument, Eric pursed his lips, training his eyes on a spot along the far wall. He knew Dr. Landry had a point, but still. He had expected to bounce back from this injury, just like he'd bounced back from having his appendix out in the sixth grade. It was nothing less than a slap to the face that he wasn't back to his original self yet.
"Eric," Dr. Landry began, beginning a new thread of discussion. They'd discussed his frustrations at home, but what she was really curious about was work. He'd had some time to adjust to being back by now. "How have you been coping, at work?"
Eric gave a deep sigh; he'd known eventually that question was coming. After two sessions, he was surprised it was just now coming up, but even though he was surprised, he wasn't exactly prepared to answer it. "Every day is different," he replied after a moment. "I thought I'd be back in, uh, my daily rituals by now, you know? Thought I'd be a hundred percent." He gave a short roll of the eyes, knowing just how ridiculous of an expectation that had been, yet still feeling disappointed that he hadn't reached that goal yet. "It's taking a long time."
"It's only been a month since the shooting," Dr. Landry reminded him, watching the way his expression tightened at her words. "And that frustrates you?"
"Of course," Eric replied immediately. "I have to be really methodical about everything. Dumb stuff; writing checks. And I can't," he paused, letting a sigh of frustration leave his lips. "I can't remember what year it is, sometimes."
Dr. Landry nodded, making a note on her clipboard. "And do you feel like your coworkers are…distancing themselves?"
"No, not at all." It was his quickest, most honest answer yet. The smallest of smiles tugged at his lips as his thoughts shifted predictably to one coworker in particular. "In fact, there's this one woman I work with; uh, her name is Calleigh. And she's been just…completely amazing."
The tone of his voice suggested that his choice of amazing just barely scratched the surface. Dr. Landry lifted a brow, flipping to the next clean page on her clipboard, atop which she quickly scribbled out the name Calleigh. "Amazing?" she pressed, watching Eric's expression. "How so?"
"Ever since I got out of the hospital, Calleigh's always been by my side. And if she hasn't been right there beside me, then she's had my back." He paused long enough to give an amused chuckle. "She's a saint, really. She's far more patient with me than I ever could've been. She doesn't get mad at me, even when she has every right to be. And she's helped me through so much of…everything, really."
"Everything?" Dr. Landry repeated, lifting her hand in an inviting gesture, hoping he would elaborate. "Has she helped you outside of work?"
"Yeah, she has," Eric replied, a clear note of gratitude in his voice. The first night that I didn't stay in the hospital – my first night back home – she came over and cooked dinner for me. Southern comfort food," he added, grinning. "She's so modest though; she always talks about how she's not good in the kitchen at all, but that might've been the best dinner I've ever had. And her cornbread is unbelievable," Eric added, feeling himself grow hungry at the memory. "And she brought me a whole pitcher of sweet tea, too."
As his thoughts moved forward, Eric's smile faded slightly, something which wasn't unnoticeable to Dr. Landry. "She offered to stay with me that night, but…" He sighed, his shoulders visibly slouching. "I told her I'd be fine. I told her she didn't need to stay. So, after much debate, she left."
"And you wish she hadn't?"
Eric swallowed, nodding slightly. "Yeah. I wasn't ready for that first night alone after all. I uh," he hesitated, clasping and unclasping his hands. "I had nightmares that night. I didn't sleep; all I could think or dream about was the shooting. I guess I needed somebody there with me. I wanted – I wanted Calleigh there with me. During the hours I laid awake that night, I know I stared at the phone for the entire time."
"But you didn't pick it up." Eric gave a sigh, nodding in response. "Why not?"
"Because it was late," Eric replied automatically. Glancing up, he met the challenging gaze of Dr. Landry, and he couldn't help but cower slightly, considering that his reason wasn't actually the reason. He knew that all he had to do was dial her number, and she would be there as fast as she could – she'd told him as much before she'd left. Normally, Eric would've been happy for a little extra attention from her, but at this point, he still had a small bit of pride to hang on to. Stubborn pride. "I didn't want her to drive all the way to my place just because I had a couple of bad dreams," he admitted quietly. "One of us deserved a good night's sleep. And besides, she'd already done too much anyway."
Dr. Landry decided to let that conversation thread dissolve, sensing that Eric was close to closing down. Quickly she brought the focus back to work. "Out of all your coworkers, would you say that Calleigh has done the most for you?"
Eric pursed his lips, thinking deeply. When he looked back, it was obvious it had been that way. Horatio, Wolfe, Alexx, Natalia…they'd all been supportive; helpful. They'd all been there for him to talk to, if he'd wanted to go to them. But Calleigh was the one who'd gone above and beyond all the others. Natalia had done the second most for him, but even she was a distant second to Calleigh. "Yeah, she has," Eric replied quietly, the realization a revelation to his own mind.
"How long have you known her?" she asked, closely studying Eric's face as he spoke. An expert on human expression was she; she was trained to notice the subtle nuances that a casual observer might miss. And she hadn't missed the way Eric's demeanor had changed as his confessions shifted to the woman named Calleigh. His depression had lifted slightly; any hopelessness that had been in his voice before seemed to have dissipated.
For a moment, Eric was silent, his brow wrinkled as mentally he calculated the years. "Six years, maybe seven. I…I don't know, exactly," he murmured, frustration evident in his voice. He sighed deeply, knowing that no matter how deeply he searched his memory, it was no use. Numbers had become fuzzy to him; six might as well have been sixteen. "I just know that it feels like I've known her, well, forever."
--
The sun was beating down harshly on his back, and for a moment Eric longed for the coolness of the canal, a mere five feet away from where he stood. He could see the divers already heading in, wetsuits on their bodies, scuba tanks on their backs. And just a week ago, Eric had been one of those guys.
Today, however, was his first day away from underwater recovery. Today, he was a CSI. There would be no swimming for him today; instead of pawing through weeds growing in the water, he would be studying tire treads and collecting evidence here on dry land. Here, on dry land, in the scorching black shirt he'd carelessly chosen to wear, giving no thought to the day's expected temperature.
A quick glance to the left showed that Eric was not the only one to dress in black on this scorching summer day. Talking to his new boss was a petite blonde, her tiny frame covered with stifling black fabric. Eric had never seen her before, so he assumed she was somehow connected to the case.
But no sooner had he turned back to his investigation that the petite blonde was making her way over to him, a kit in hand, identical to the kit at Eric's side. Apparently she was a CSI as well. Instead of watching her, Eric busied himself with his work, knowing that he was the new guy. He was still under scrutiny.
"I know you." At the words, Eric couldn't help but freeze completely. They were spoken in the sweetest Southern drawl he'd ever heard, and as he rose to his feet, he came face to face with the blonde he'd noticed just moments before. Reaching up, she lifted her sunglasses, and Eric was startled by the intensity of her emerald eyes. Piercing they were, and Eric knew he'd never seen eyes quite that green before. He suddenly felt exposed, almost as though those eyes could see right through to his soul.
By the time he finally tore his eyes away from hers, her eyebrow was raised quizzically, contributing to the amused expression on her face, along with the tiny quirk of her lips. Grinning himself, Eric opened his mouth to speak, only to find that his mind lagged behind. "Uh…"
Mentally he rolled his eyes at himself. Excellent, Delko.
Chuckling softly, Eric licked at his lips and tried again. "You know me?" he asked, discreetly allowing his eyes to wander over her body. There was no other word for it; she was gorgeous. Blonde hair, those intense green eyes, alluring curves in all the right places...at first glance, Eric couldn't help but wonder what part of the department she could possibly work in, looking as flawless as she did.
She nodded, tilting her head thoughtfully. "I can't remember from where, though," she pondered aloud, and Eric couldn't help but grin lightly as her eyes traveled over his own body, mirroring the path his eyes had taken over hers. "You're not new to the department, are you?"
Eric shook his head. "To CSI, yeah. To Miami-Dade, no." Pursing his lips, he gave her a closer look. If she knew him from somewhere, then why didn't he know her?
Biting at her own lip, Calleigh thought for a moment, trying to place the man in front of her, the man who might potentially become her new partner in the lab. "So what department did you transfer from?" she asked finally, curiosity in her voice.
Eric smirked. "You're the one who remembers me," he teased, his flirtatious charm coming through as it often did. "But maybe you just don't recognize me outside of my old typical uniform," he added, giving her a clue.
She latched onto the clue for what it was, but still she couldn't summon any tangible amount of recollection. "So, what, you work undercover? Something like that?"
With a tilt of the head, Eric thought for a moment. She was close, if by undercover she mean underwater. "Um, something like that," he conceded, giving her a playful wink.
"Okay," she replied slowly, and Eric could practically see the wheels turning madly in her head. He'd known the woman for maybe five minutes, and already he could tell that she was not one to give up until she got an answer. She refused to back down, something Eric liked a lot. Shrugging, she brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "I don't know. ATF, maybe?"
"Wrong," Eric smirked. "My thing was underwater recovery."
"Oh!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "Yeah, I remember now. You're a diver." She glanced over to the canal momentarily, a grin on her lips. "I bet you miss it on days like today," she said, fanning her face for emphasis.
Eric shrugged. "I thought so, earlier. But you know, those wetsuits are pretty hot too." She smirked and lifted a brow, but said nothing, and Eric couldn't help but chuckle. "I meant the heat, but now that I think about it, underwater recovery guys do seem to get all the girls," he teased, winking playfully.
"Oh, well, I guess you're out of luck then," she quipped in return, smiling sweetly. "Since you're a CSI now, and all."
Eric narrowed his eyes playfully. "Cute," he replied, loving the way she giggled in response. He'd only just met the woman, and she was already having an effect on him. "So," he said, hoping to change the subject, though at the same time, he really didn't want to lose the playful banter just yet. The heat, however, made it imperative that they finish processing and get back to the lab. "Since we're going to be working together, don't you think I should get your name?"
"Oh," she said, almost as though she'd completely forgotten. "I'm Calleigh," she said with a wide smile, enough to nearly bring Eric to his knees. "Calleigh Duquesne. Firearms."
"Firearms?" Eric repeated, disbelief in his voice. This beauty in front of him with the soft, Southern drawl played with guns for a living? And Eric was going to be working beside her every day? How he would ever manage that was beyond him.
--
"We were friends from the day we met," Eric continued, his eyes slightly downcast. For the first time, eye contact with his therapist was hard to keep. "At first, I admit I did have a little crush on her, but it was impossible not to. Here's this gorgeous blonde, Southern woman, and she works with guns for a living. What man wouldn't find that attractive?"
The tone of his voice suggested that Eric still found that attractive, but Dr. Landry let it go for now. "But your friendship overcame that crush?"
"That was just a crush," Eric insisted, though once more his voice belied the presence of something else. "But yeah, I'd like to say our friendship could overcome anything. I mean, we've been through a lot together in the past several years, and we've always come back to…this," he finished, for lack of a better explanation. "I don't know what I'd do without her in my life."
And he honestly didn't. Calleigh had been his rock through so much. If he were to lose her, Eric wasn't sure he'd be able to stand on his own. Figuratively, and literally, as he'd found out during his time in the hospital. Once Eric had stabilized enough to remove himself from imminent danger, the doctors had begun putting him through what might have been an obstacle course to his confused brain."You know, eventually, the doctors made me get out of bed," Eric said, not realizing his seemingly abrupt change of subject had startled his therapist. In his head, though, it made perfect sense. "Said I had to get up and be able to walk around before they would even think about letting me leave."
Dr. Landry tilted her head. "You also took a shot to the thigh, did you not?"
"Yeah," Eric murmured darkly, frowning. "Not only was I so dizzy that I couldn't stand without somebody holding onto me, but every step hurt like hell. I'd take three steps and want to die right there in the hallway; it was so bad. The only times I wanted to keep pushing on; the only times I wanted to take those extra steps, no matter how badly it hurt – it was only when Calleigh was the one beside me, gently holding my arm, my hand; leading me, encouraging me. She was the only one who didn't have to nearly drag me from the bed."
"And why do you suppose that was?"
Eric couldn't help but grin slightly; he knew exactly why that was – it was the same reason as why he never once complained when she was the one walking with him. "I, uh, I didn't want to disappoint her," he admitted softly, startled at how easily the words fell from his lips. "I did it for her."
"Disappointment is a powerful thing," Dr. Landry said. "The fear of it can push you beyond where you thought you could go. Think about every step you took with Calleigh beside you. Do you think you could've taken those steps without her?"
"I wouldn't have wanted to," Eric replied, his answer slightly evasive, yet still enough to answer the question. "You know, there's still so much I'm missing," he continued, his voice lower in volume. "I just…don't remember. I feel like I'm missing entire years."
"Is there anything you do remember without a doubt from those first days in the hospital?" Dr. Landry probed, making note of Eric's slight fidgeting.
"I still don't remember much about those first few days at all, but there is one thing I remember," he replied, staring down at the armrest of his chair, waiting for Dr. Landry to push him. She didn't, however, and Eric was left with the decision of whether to jump or not. Surprising even himself, Eric took the risk. "I remember Calleigh," he said quietly. "She was there at my bedside when I woke up. Her face, her eyes…she's the first person I remember seeing. I remember the way she smiled at me, the way her eyes slowly filled with tears. I felt…I felt guilty for making her cry." His voice caught as the memory settled over him, not only visually, but also in a sensory manifestation.
He'd known Calleigh was there before he'd even opened his eyes. Mixed in with the sterile, too clean scent of the hospital was a soft, somewhat floral scent that Eric knew all too well as Calleigh's perfume. As badly mangled as his memory was, Eric knew he would've been panicked if he'd woken alone, or even if he'd woken in the presence of anyone else. But knowing Calleigh was there…it soothed him, more than he would've thought possible. Her gentle scent was comforting, calming his heart, steadying his breathing.
And then he'd opened his eyes. Blurry his vision had been; he couldn't make out anything farther than a few feet away, and he possessed not the energy to blink until his focus was regained. But Calleigh he could see clearly, from her locks of golden blonde, to her eyes of emerald green, to the smile of relief that slowly stretched across her lips. God, how that smile had been such a sight to his aching eyes.
He couldn't remember all that was said, but he could viscerally recall all that he'd seen. It sent another pang of guilt through his heart, recalling the way her smile had changed from relieved to confused, and then slowly to worry, even to fear. Whatever words had left his parched lips had frightened the unflappable Calleigh Duquesne, but the worst part was the obvious moisture he'd seen in her eyes, just before she told him to close his own eyes and rest, just rest.
"You felt guilty, Eric?" Dr. Landry asked softly, pulling Eric quickly from the realm of thought in which he'd lost himself. The hospital disintegrated, taking the vision of Calleigh away with it as the office of his therapist reformed around him.
Slowly he gave a nod of his head, ever mindful of the bullet that still resided there. "Calleigh…she doesn't – she doesn't cry." Eric paused, reaching for the glass of water which resided on the table at his side. It cooled his parched throat, driving back the lump that had formed there as he spoke. "I hated to be the one to make her cry…"
Eric shifted uncomfortably in his seat, fidgeting anxiously with his hands. Sensing this particular road was a difficult subject for him, one more difficult than he was ready to discuss, Dr. Landry made a few notes, before willingly pulling Eric away from that fateful day. "Has she always been there for you like that?"
"Always," Eric replied immediately, the answer needing no thought. "With Calleigh…it's like I can just look over my shoulder, and she'll be there. Sometimes lately I worry that she's looking out more for me than she is for herself." He paused, staring down at his hands. "I don't know if she knows how grateful I am for that."
"Why don't you tell her?"
Eric gave a light chuckle, glancing up quickly as though believing that Dr. Landry was joking. But her face was serious, and Eric remembered that she didn't know Calleigh. "It's not that easy," he replied finally, sitting back in his chair.
Dr. Landry shrugged. "Why not? All you have to do is tell her you appreciate her."
"No," Eric persisted, slightly shaking his head. "It's not that simple. I wish it was…but it's not." Again, Eric reached for his glass of water, though this time not to moisten his mouth, but to buy a bit of time as he thought. "It's hard to admit that I…that I need her like that. The last thing I want is to be a burden to her. I don't want her to give her life up for me. I'm not – it's not worth that."
"Don't you think that's for Calleigh to decide?" Dr. Landry suggested softly, making note of the depression that had crept back into his voice. "It is her life, after all. Shouldn't she get to decide what's important for her to spend her time on?" She leaned forward, fixing Eric with her piercing gaze. "Shouldn't she get to decide what's worth it? That you're worth her time?"
Eric let out a deep breath, avoiding her eyes. "But it's too much though."
"Too much for her? Or too much for you?"
Her question caught him off-guard, and Eric bit at his lip, thinking for a moment. "When I came back, I did all of the things I did before. Everything I was used to doing. I jumped in too soon, and Calleigh realized that. But instead of going to our boss about it, she took care of it herself. She managed to do all of her own work, along with checking up on every case of mine. She took care of my mistakes, the things I missed. And she did it all without slacking on any of her own work."
Dr. Landry nodded, tapping her pen lightly on her clipboard. "Were you really concerned about how she spent her time?" she asked softly. "Or were you just a bit resentful?"
Eric scoffed. "Why would I have been resentful?"
"You said it yourself," Dr. Landry replied, shrugging nonchalantly. "You expected things to go back to the way they were. You expected that immediately. And suddenly, you've got a coworker checking up on your every move, not trusting you to work your own cases."
"It's not like that," Eric replied quietly, not giving into the bait. He saw that for what it was, and he refused to get himself riled up. "But you know, maybe I was just a little resentful," he conceded, remembering the way he'd all but attacked her after the first mistake.
His heart pounded in his chest as he tried desperately to recall the events of the day. He'd followed protocol perfectly, hadn't he? He'd done everything by the book, so why was Calleigh so adamant on finding a mistake in his work? Was she trying to prove that he wasn't competent?
If he were honest, Eric knew that wasn't the case, but his body couldn't help but think otherwise. His heartbeat continued to accelerate, echoing in his ears at an almost deafening pitch. His breathing had quickened, but despite that Eric couldn't seem to pull enough air into his lungs; he felt dizzy. A nervous sweat had broken on his brow; what if Calleigh was right? Had he screwed up completely?
No. The idea was just ridiculous. Barely hearing her words, Eric willingly handed over his kit, knowing, just knowing that he was right. He'd lost part of his memory, but he still knew how to do his job. It was second nature to him, after all these years. Still, he couldn't help the feeling of dread that crashed over him as she opened his kit, her fingers reaching right for his phenolphthalein test reagents. She opened it, taking a moment to study the bottles before reaching for the first bottle – water, Eric recalled. "Do you normally keep these reagents in order of application?" she asked, no compassion in her voice. She was all-business, and Eric couldn't help but cringe; it was almost as though she were questioning a suspect.
"Yeah, of course," Eric scoffed, irritation plain in every inch of his body. This was ridiculous; they should be catching a criminal, not going over something he'd done hundreds of times before.
He watched as Calleigh's shoulders slumped, causing his annoyance to bubble up even more. For a moment, she was silent, nibbling at her lower lip as she contemplated the best way to tell him, when she herself had been hoping for a different answer. "Then I think we have a problem," she said quietly, fixing Eric with her gaze. In response, Eric could only shift on his feet and roll his eyes in disgust, just daring Calleigh to continue. She let out a deep sigh before, unfortunately, taking that dare. "The peroxide and water are switched, which creates a false negative."
"No," Eric muttered, feeling the adrenaline pump through his veins. "No, it can't be." He could barely hear as Calleigh pointed out the evidence to him, the irrefutable evidence. His reagents were backwards, but Eric had just enough pride to not believe it. Maybe he had just replaced them in the wrong order. "I wouldn't have done that," he persisted defensively, venom in his voice.
She'd proven him wrong, and he had resented her for it, though not as badly as he'd resented himself. Maybe he had gone back too early. "She, uh, she caught a mistake of mine, a rookie mistake."
Dr. Landry nodded. "I imagine that made you feel…" she trailed off, leaving it open for Eric to finished.
"Like I couldn't even do my job," Eric replied quietly, fidgeting lightly with his watch. "I did resent her for that, because all I wanted was to prove that I was okay. I had to prove that I was okay, better than okay. But I wasn't," he admitted on a sigh, shaking his head slowly. "I wasn't okay, but I couldn't see that. Calleigh was just looking out for me, looking out for what I couldn't see on my own. And she came to me, instead of taking it to the department, which she probably should have." Despite the feelings that had surfaced upon reliving that, Eric felt a small smile begin to tug at his lips. "That's something I can always expect from Calleigh. She comes to me. Not our boss, not to IAB, not to psych services. She talks to me first."
Pausing for a moment, Eric let out a breath, smiling slightly before he continued. "I felt bad for resenting her like that, because I knew she felt bad about having to talk to me about it. Even after I mixed up the peroxide and the water, I still managed to find some way to get the bad guy. Calleigh asked me to accompany her into the interrogation room."
He hesitated, and Dr. Landry lifted a brow. "And?"
Eric shook his head. "I – I couldn't do it. Calleigh told me that it would be good for my confidence, but I just couldn't do it, knowing that I'd nearly blown the entire case."
Dr. Landry nodded in understanding. "What did Calleigh say to that?"
Once more, a slow smile touched Eric's lips. "She told me…that they couldn't make it without me," he murmured, still unable to discern her real meaning. After the mistake he'd made, Eric had thought the lab would only be better without him. "You know, despite the mistake I made, after anybody else might've had their doubts, Calleigh still believed in me. She believes in me, even when I don't believe in myself." Eric paused, chuckling embarrassedly. "That's so corny…"
Dr. Landry shook her head. "No, not at all, Eric," she replied. "Having somebody who believes in you is something we all need, even when our lives are going well. You are going through a rough patch, so it's doubly important for you." She shifted in her seat, recrossing her legs. "I must admit; I was frightened for you after our first couple of sessions. Getting to know you and what you're like, your attitudes; I was afraid you wouldn't have anybody to confide in. I'm quite relieved to know that this Calleigh is looking out for you as much as it seems. And I'm also relieved that, though you may resent it at the time, you realize that she only has your best interests at heart. If she didn't, she wouldn't bother coming to you first."
"Yeah," Eric replied on a quiet, contemplative sigh. "She's been great. Patient, even when I haven't deserved it," he added with a chuckle. "Even before…all this," he continued, gesturing to his head, "she's had my back through everything. To be honest, I really don't know where I'd be without her," he said, a touch of awe present in his hushed voice. "I've lost friends, I've lost family. And through all that, Calleigh's been the one I could always count on to be right there beside me, through everything."
Eric swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. The thought of losing people he cared about always took him to one of two places – to Speed, or to Marisol. This time, the thought brought him to Marisol. "Calleigh was there for me after my sister's funeral. She didn't have to be; I didn't ask her to be there. She just…was."
--
Escape.
It was all that he wanted to do. It was just far too painful to be here, under these circumstances. The last time he'd been here, it'd been Christmas, and they'd all been together – him, his parents, all three of his sisters, plus the various aunts and uncles, cousins, even the most distant of family had been there.
Now, the summer was bearing down on them all, and Eric felt as though he'd lost half of his intermediate family. Marisol was gone. His parents were devastated, his sisters distraught. Everyone around him was falling apart, and Eric felt a certain obligation to hold his family together, even though he knew he lacked the strength right now to do it.
And that knowledge had finally sunk into him as he stood in the middle of his parents' kitchen, more people wandering around than Eric knew how to deal with. Everywhere he turned, there was another person offering their condolences or pushing a dish into his arms – one thing was certain, there would be enough food to last them for ages.
After just a few short hours, it grew to be far too much. Eric was suffocating; suffocating in the grief he'd not yet let himself succumb to. As soon as he could get away without being seen, he quickly slipped out to the back porch, immediately grateful for the silence that fell upon him as he closed the door.
The sky was already beginning to darken with the coming night, casting a certain calm over all Eric could see. The soft chirp of crickets was intermingled with the sound of the breeze which gently rattled the wind chimes. The old oak trees cast long shadows in the backyard, just the way Eric always remembered. There wasn't much that had changed; to his left remained the old porch swing that he and Marisol had often swung on as kids, merely watching as day became night.
With a heavy heart, Eric found himself drawn toward that swing, that symbol of happier days from his youth. Tentatively, he lowered himself onto it, smiling despite himself as he found that it still creaked as he sat, just the way it always had.
Automatically, his feet began pushing at the ground, pushing the swing into a slow back and forth motion. It was just as calming as it had always been, and despite his age, despite the fact that he could stop by here anytime he wanted, Eric found himself feeling the unfamiliar pangs of homesickness. But perhaps it wasn't a homesickness for home, exactly, but a homesickness for days long gone by.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when he finally drifted back into the present time, the sky had fully darkened overhead, and suddenly, he wasn't alone anymore. Glancing up to the doorway, he felt his heart leap as Calleigh Duquesne stood before him, the one person he would always be happy to see even when he wanted to see nobody. "Calleigh," he murmured, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears.
"Hey," she replied softly, taking a tentative step toward him. "I've been looking for you. You weren't in there, so I thought maybe I'd find you out here."
Eric shrugged. "You found me," he replied, gently patting the spot next to him on the swing. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to see you," she said softly, as though it were something obvious, something she did every day. And at one point, it might've been, until everything that had transpired over the past two years. "I thought you might need a friend…" She hesitated though, only allowing herself to stand in front of him.
With a sigh, Eric leaned back in the swing, gazing up at Calleigh. "I just had enough of everybody inside," he said, tilting his head. "Everywhere I looked, there was somebody dressed in black, somebody wanting to share condolences, somebody wanting to tell me how wonderful a person Marisol was…I just couldn't take it anymore, you know?"
Calleigh nodded. "I was in there," she said, understanding. "I bet it did get overwhelming after a while." Anxiously she fidgeted with her hands, contemplating why she was there, what she should do. "I, uh, I wanted to do something, so I made a casserole. Then I brought it, and realized everybody else brought a casserole, so it turns out that I really didn't do anything at all…" She gave an apologetic smile, finally taking the offered spot next to him on the swing.
At that, Eric couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah, there's going to be enough food to last a year." Turning his head, he took her in with a small smile. "Thanks, though. I'm sure yours is the best out of all of them."
Calleigh gave a quiet chuckle, unable to stifle it completely. "I hope it's at least edible," she said lightly, giving a slight shrug. "Casseroles really aren't my thing, but I couldn't think of what else to make. Back home, whenever somebody died, Mama would make a casserole or two to take the family. So I figured…why not? I guess maybe I should've realized I wasn't the only one that thought of making a casserole," she finished with another shrug.
"Really, Cal, it's fine," Eric reassured, smiling slightly. "It means a lot that you stopped by, let alone that you actually went to the trouble of making a casserole."
"Well, I had to do something," Calleigh replied, breathing out. "I was with you when you…you know, when you got the call." She paused, shifting slightly. "And I kind of felt like I wasn't really there for you. I could've done more. If I'd –"
"Calleigh," Eric interrupted softly. "You gave me space that afternoon. If you'd rushed forward and hugged me…I don't know if I could've handled that," he admitted, lowering his eyes. "You let me handle it on my own at first, and now you're here, which I'm glad for. I…I needed somebody else tonight. I needed somebody who wasn't family." He let out a deep breath, feeling no shame in divulging the reason he'd run from the house in the first place. "I needed somebody who wouldn't expect me to be the strong one for everybody else."
"You can't be the strong one all the time," Calleigh replied softly, and Eric couldn't help but get the impression that she spoke from experience. "And the harder you try…the harder you'll end up crashing in the end."
"I know," Eric sighed, leaning back in the swing, his eyes upward.
Sensing that he needed a little more comfort, Calleigh lay a tentative hand over his. "So, uh, how are you holding up?" she asked quietly, gazing at him with concern in her eyes.
It was a long moment before Eric answered, but when he did, his voice was full of raw emotion, something Calleigh had heard in his voice before, but never to this extent. "At this point, I don't think I am," he admitted. He felt Calleigh gently squeeze his hand, the small gesture helping him find the strength to open up to her, at least a little. "I don't think it really hit me until a couple hours ago, the fact that she's gone. I'm never gonna see her again."
His voice trembled as he spoke, and Calleigh couldn't help but feel her heart clench in her chest, and as she turned her gaze toward him, her heart all but shattered. Even in the dark, Calleigh could see the redness in his eyes, the moisture. "Eric…" she murmured, slipping even closer to him. She really didn't know what to say to him, but she had to say something. "You know I'm here for you," she murmured, stroking the top of his hand with the pad of her thumb. "When it gets too hard, or when you need somebody to lean on. You can come to me," she added, gently resting her head on Eric's shoulder, sensing that he needed the contact.
"I know," he whispered, his voice ragged as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. Grateful for her presence, he rested his own head atop hers, feeling comforted by the soft vanilla scent of her hair. "Thank you…for everything," he murmured, closing his eyes against the tears of grief that refused to be ignored any longer.
--
"I can't count how many times when she's just been there, you know?" Eric continued, blinking his stinging eyes. The death of his sister was still a fresh wound to him, especially since he'd had to remember losing her after being shot. "It's like she just knows when and where to show up." He paused, still attempting to steady himself. "The few times that she hasn't been there…I've gotten myself into more trouble than I knew how to deal with."
"There have been times you haven't been able to depend on her?"
Eric swallowed, his throat dry once more. "There was a year…"
As Eric reached for his glass of water, Dr. Landry latched onto his unfinished thought. "A year is a long time," she said quietly. "What happened?"
Rubbing at his eyes, Eric gave a tired sigh. "Speed died, that's what happened," he said, a small note of bitterness in his voice. "Calleigh and I went out together that night for drinks. Neither one of us wanted to go home alone, not after losing Speed."
He didn't continue on his own, and Dr. Landry made a few notes before prompting him. "Did something happen that night? Something you regret between you and Calleigh?" she asked cautiously.
Immediately, Eric shook his head. "No, nothing like that," he replied. "And you know, maybe that was part of it. Nothing happened. We sat in front of each other, and we both drank and stared at the table. We didn't talk about it. And after that night…" Eric paused, recalling the unpleasant memories. "We drifted apart. After Tim died, it was almost like she and I couldn't be friends. I, uh, I guess I was afraid of being too close to her, after what had happened to Speed, who was my best friend. I would go days without seeing her or talking to her. And," Eric paused, licking at his parched lips, "I would go weeks without seeing her smile. Hearing her laugh."
"And how did that make you feel?"
"Empty," Eric replied immediately, it being the first word to pop into his mind. "I missed her terribly. It was like I didn't just lose one best friend. I felt like both of them had died. The Calleigh I used to know…she would only come out once in a blue moon." The ghost of a smile flitted over his face as he recalled the first time since Tim's death that he saw Calleigh give a genuine smile.
"When Speed died, of course we had to have somebody new to replace him. He was this newbie from patrol, Ryan. That was tough on both of us. But anyway, there was a case, a while after he started. We had a, uh, head trauma case, and the M.E. had just finished the autopsy." As Eric continued to speak, he couldn't stop the small chuckle that infused itself into his words. "I remembered when I first started at CSI, Speed subjected me to a bit of newbie hazing. I don't know how we managed it, but Calleigh and I ended up thinking the exact same thing – we told Ryan to go to the autopsy. What we didn't tell him was that it was a head trauma, and therefore, a headless autopsy. And if you knew Ryan, you'd get why it's so amusing."
Pausing, Eric allowed himself a smirk. "After he left the room, Calleigh and I actually laughed about it. It was the first time I'd heard her laugh in ages, and for a moment, it was just like it used to be between us."
"But I take it it didn't last?"
Eric shook his head, his smile fading. "We just kept drifting farther and farther apart. There were little moments here and there, but it was months before I got my best friend back. There was a point where I had to stop depending on her so much, and instead I had to be there for her. It's not often that Calleigh lets anybody be there for her, and by the time I figured out that I had to go to her instead of waiting for her to come to me, it was almost too late."
"What do you mean, too late?" Dr. Landry asked, intrigued.
"We weren't talking like we used to, so I just assumed she was fine. She acted fine. I didn't know that anything was amiss in her life. And then, suddenly," Eric paused, trying to figure out how best to word it, "there was a life changing event for her, something that made her question everything, even the solidity of her career. It was the first time I saw her hit rock bottom."
--
He'd spent the night on this very couch before. That night, he'd watched a movie with the woman beside of him now. They'd shared a bowl of popcorn. They'd exchanged flirty, playful banter, as had become routine for them.
But tonight, there would be no movie. No popcorn, no teasing. Tonight, Eric would endure the hardness of Calleigh's couch, just so he could offer her what little comfort she would accept. Because today, not only had she had a gun placed to the back of her head, but her ex-boyfriend had committed suicide in the middle of her lab.
She was traumatized; Eric could tell that as soon as he'd sat beside her. Her body was covered in a heavy blanket, and Eric knew she'd been trying desperately to fight off the occasional shiver that came over her body. Her first words were enough to break his heart, and Eric knew that if Hagen were alive right now, he would hunt him down and kill the man himself.
"What am I supposed to do, Eric?" she asked softly.
"If this were any other case, you'd do the same thing you always go. You'd get some sleep. You'd wake up in the morning and go back to work, ready for a new day." He paused, rubbing her back in gentle circles. "I know it's not what you want to hear, but in the end, that's what you have to do. It's what any of us would have to do."
"But I don't think I can, Eric," she admitted quietly, her fingers occupied with the frayed edges of the blanket.
She looked so small, so fragile as she sat beside him, a curtain of blonde hiding her downcast face. Eric's fingers twitched, and he couldn't help reaching out to her, letting his fingers brush ever so lightly against her cheek as he slipped her hair behind her ear, revealing her face to him. "Yes, you can," he murmured, fixing her with his dark gaze.
Calleigh gave a quiet, derisive chuckle. "How do you know that, Eric?"
"Because I know you," Eric replied simply. "I know that you love what you do, and you always have. It wouldn't be enough for you to do something else."
For a moment, Calleigh was silent, her eyes resolutely on the blanket that covered her. "Eric…" she murmured finally, and Eric was surprised to hear the tremble in her voice. "You weren't there," she continued, finally glancing to Eric at her side. He could easily see the conflict, the pain in her eyes, and he couldn't help but wrap an arm loosely around her shoulders, giving her a chance to pull away if she so wanted. She didn't, though, and Eric tentatively pulled her closer. Momentarily she tensed, but as she grew used to the feel of Eric's arm around her, Calleigh relaxed, laying her head on his shoulder as he pulled her closer. "I went back to the range after…you know. I still had other cases I needed to work on, guns to match; I still had a lot I needed to do."
Eric sighed, and, unable to stop himself, he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "Oh, Calleigh, why didn't you go home?"
"I couldn't, Eric," Calleigh insisted. "But God, I wish I could've," she added darkly, and Eric felt his heart break as he felt her shudder just slightly in his arms. He didn't press her, instead letting her choose the pace, and whether she wanted to reveal anything to him at all. Finally, he felt her sigh and shift against him. "I was ready to let it go. I just wanted to be done with it, and get back to work. But as soon as I took my stance and got ready to shoot, a drop of blood fell on my lab coat. I looked up, and…there was brain matter, right there on my ceiling. Right above me."
Eric himself shuddered at the visual; being a CSI, he didn't have a weak stomach, but still. What Calleigh had experienced probably would've been enough to rattle even the strongest of stomachs. "At that point," Calleigh continued, forced steadiness in her voice, "I just couldn't do it. I couldn't be in there. And now, I – I don't know if I can go back."
"Back to ballistics?" Eric asked quietly, his fingers instinctively stroking the soft skin of her upper arm. As if Calleigh hadn't already gone through enough today; as if she weren't already rattled enough just by having a gun to her head. Now, Hagen had to kill himself in her lab, and even when Calleigh thought he was completely gone from her life, he came back once more to haunt her.
Calleigh shrugged, discreetly snuggling against him. She couldn't deny how good it felt, even if she'd never admit it aloud. "Honestly, Eric," she began, sighing deeply, "I don't know if I can even go back to CSI."
The very fact that she was considering that possibility had Eric's heart pounding in his chest. If he were being selfish for a moment, he couldn't imagine not being able to see her every day; some days, she was the reason he dragged himself into work.
And even selflessly, he couldn't imagine it. He couldn't imagine Calleigh ever being okay with giving up her career, no matter what the circumstances. For a few days, weeks even, he knew she could convince herself she was doing the right thing. But eventually, the restlessness would begin to grow within her. It would eat at her; it would make her miserable. The thought itself sent a fresh flash of pain through Eric's heart, and he couldn't help but hold onto her a little tighter. "Don't say that, Calleigh," he murmured, his lips brushing over her hair.
"But what if I can't?"
"Calleigh Duquesne doesn't say can't," Eric remarked, delighted to elicit a soft chuckle from Calleigh. He felt her relax against him, and suddenly, the somber mood had lightened somewhat.
"I guess you're right," Calleigh relented after a moment, a ghost of a smile on her face. "But I…I can't do it tomorrow. I just – walking in there tomorrow, it would be…"
"Too soon," Eric finished as she trailed off, feeling as Calleigh nodded her head. "You know what I think?"
Calleigh felt the urge to lift her head, to meet his dark eyes with her own, but it was an urge that didn't overcome the comfort she felt resting against him like this, in his arms. It felt almost too good, and Calleigh didn't want to have to move anytime soon. "What's that?" she asked, shifting her head only slightly.
Her warm breath brushed over his skin, and Eric nearly lost his train of thought. "I think," he began, swallowing resolutely, "that you should get away. It's been years, and I think you deserve a vacation more than anybody. A couple of days, couple of weeks, anything. I just think you need some time for you."
"Maybe you're right," Calleigh murmured after a moment. It was strange to her, this feeling of vulnerability. She felt so comfortable letting Eric in, something she'd never thought she could do, for anybody. "I just…I can't go back there right now," she said, succumbing to a yawn which wouldn't be repressed. She couldn't help it; the feeling of warmth and comfort surrounding her right now was so extreme, and she couldn't help but let her eyes fall closed.
"You don't have to until you're ready," Eric replied quietly, smiling slightly as he received a sleepy hum in response. "And when you are ready…I'll be here for you, if you need me."
--
"So it's mutual, then. She's there for you when you need her, and you're there for her," Dr. Landry remarked.
Eric gave a deep sigh, slightly annoyed at being pulled once more from his memories. Now, more than ever, memories were precious. This injury was still so new, and Eric didn't know what to expect from day to day. Potentially, he could wake up in the morning missing even more of his memories. "Yeah, it's definitely a mutual thing," he murmured, trying to hold onto the last wisps of that particular memory.
That had been a sleepless night for Eric, not because he couldn't sleep, but because he couldn't make himself sleep. To sleep would be to let the moment pass him by, the moment in which Calleigh Duquesne had trusted him enough and felt comfortable enough to allow herself to drift away. He knew she was exhausted, physically and emotionally, but if she'd had the least bit of doubt about falling asleep in his arms, she wouldn't have done it.
Even as he thought about it now, his arms itched to hold her once more, keeping her safe as she dreamed. His fingers itched to thread through her silky blonde locks, and suddenly, his heart ached for her, to be with her. Once again, he felt dizzy, but this time it was not from the bullet in his head, but from the breathlessness that accompanied the most exhilarating revelation that he had ever experienced.
He was in love with Calleigh Duquesne.
It hit him like a wave, knocking him to his knees before washing over him, consuming him. It dulled the lingering pain in his head, and Eric couldn't believe how light he suddenly felt; it was as though this were a confession he'd been carrying for his entire life. And now, while it wasn't out in the open, exactly, it had travelled from his lips to his ears, setting off a chain reaction of feelings inside of him that he knew he could not stop.
He could barely hear over the pounding of his excited heart as Dr. Landry congratulated him on his progress, comparing his first session to this session. In the first session, he'd been reluctant to reveal anything.
During the first session, she had pushed him to talk about the shooting, and nothing but. His feelings about the shooting, about his memory loss, about having to start all over. They were all topics that Eric wanted nothing more than to ignore, to forget about.
But today, somehow he'd been allowed to talk about otherwise directed feelings – he'd been allowed to talk about Calleigh. And suddenly, Eric had found it hard to stop talking.
But then again, Eric had always found it easier to talk about what he loved.
And there was that word again – love. For so many years, he'd refused to acknowledge it, putting the importance of their friendship above all else. For so many years, he'd been able to deny it, to ignore it, even when it stared him straight in the face.
But today, over the span of a couple of hours, he'd divulged his deepest, most hidden feelings for Calleigh, revealing the truth to himself with that verbal affirmation; undeniable proof.
Even if he'd wanted to, there was no way Eric could take any of his words back. They'd already reached his ears; they'd already sunk into the deepest regions of his heart. And in the deepest regions of his heart his confessions would stay, changing the way he saw Calleigh every single day – making her hair shine just a little brighter, making the sparkle in her eyes just a little more enticing, making every little accidental touch into something more meaningful, something more.
And that something more…Eric already knew it was something he would never let himself let go of. It was love.
Eric had known that part of therapy would be about revealing his deepest, darkest fears and thoughts; the very deepest parts of his soul. And he had dreaded it; he'd expected the pain and anguish from reliving those memories once again. And pain and anguish he had experienced.
But what he hadn't expected was the unveiling of something that had always been there, but disguised as something else. Now, he could see his feelings for Calleigh for what they really were, for what they always had been.
Before therapy, Eric had thought that talking about his deepest thoughts was the final step, that it was all he had to do to move ahead. Now, as he walked out of Dr. Landry's office with a smile on his lips, he could see, without feeling discouraged, that he that he still had a long way to go.
Verbally acknowledging his feelings for what they truly were, after all, was only the first step of his journey.