A/N: The characters aren't mine, I'm only borrowing them from the producers and writers of The Glades. All errors are mine and mine alone.

Chapter 1

Jim woke up in stages. First stage: Realizing his body was completely and totally relaxed, a state he hadn't been in for a long time. Second stage: He smelled flowers and felt hair brushing his chest. Third stage: Awareness that he wasn't in bed at home, or alone. He sighed and opened his eyes to see Callie lying curled into his body.

Smiling to himself, he lightly brushed Callie's hair off her face so he could see her sleeping. She looked so contented and relaxed, and sexy as hell. At the last thought, he felt himself get hard again, but refrained from doing anything more than just look at her. He couldn't believe she'd not only opened the door after his bungling at the grocery store, but kissed him and more. He'd wanted this more than anything in his adult life and it amazed him that it was his.

He leaned over and gently kissed her cheek before climbing slowly out of bed and dashing off to the bathroom. Moments later he stood in the doorway and watched Callie sleep. "I can't believe I'm here," he thought. "How'd I get so lucky?" Callie shifted in her sleep and he grabbed his jeans then walked out, not wanting to wake her.

Jim looked around the living room and began picking up the clothes they'd left behind in their rush to the bedroom. Laughing softly to himself, he draped them over the back of the chair and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. His stomach grumbled loudly and he figured he could do something nice for Callie by making her breakfast.

Just as the food was coming off the stove, he heard Callie's voice, "You made breakfast."

"Ah, yeah. I hope you don't mind…" he started.

"That's bacon," she interrupted. "I love bacon."

"Coffee and eggs and fresh juice."

"You squeezed fresh juice?"

"I did."

Jim expected a 'thank you', but got much more when Callie opened her arms and stood on tiptoe to give him a heartfelt and passionate kiss. He had just gathered her in for more contact when the phone rang.

"I need to get that, it could be Jeff," she said as she reluctantly pulled away.

Jim followed her around the table, not wanting to be too far away from her, not after waiting so long to be with her. As she answered the phone, he wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck causing her to giggle.

"Hello," she said, expecting to hear her son's voice.

"Hey, baby," a much deeper voice said in her ear.

As she said, "Ray, uh, how'd you get straight through?" Jim pulled back, knowing she needed some space in which to deal with her husband. He watched as she leaned back against the sink and asked, "Ray, what did you do?" He couldn't hear what Ray was saying, but he could tell by Callie's body language and the tension in her voice, that it wasn't good. "I hope you didn't do something stupid," she said into the phone.

The next few minutes were the longest Jim had experienced in recent memory. He felt Callie physically withdraw from him and watched her face cloud over with confusion and raw emotion. When she looked at him, he felt a punch in his gut; it felt like she was saying good-bye…to him.

It seemed like forever before she pressed the End button. Even then, she held onto the handset as if it could anchor her in the here and now. Jim waited for her to speak, not wanting to hear what she had to say, but not wanting her to go through whatever it was alone.

Finally, she put the phone down and said, "That was Ray." She shook her head at the stupidity of that comment.

Jim wanted to do nothing more than open his arms and hold her, but he knew she'd resist the urge. She was too used to having to be the strong one, the one that handled all of life's ill alone. She wouldn't thank him for trying to intrude, even if it was with the best of intentions.

She walked towards him, and then reached around him at the last moment for the dishes on the table. Picking them up, she said, "He's getting out."

"Out?" Jim asked with as little emotion in his voice as he could muster.

"Yeah. He's coming home." Callie's voice was extremely neutral.

No emotion leaked in at all and Jim couldn't tell if she was upset, confused, angry, happy or just numb. He was betting on numb. "When?" he asked carefully.

"Soon. That's all he said. Soon." She scraped the food into the sink and started to fill one side with hot water.

Jim walked to the sink and put his hands on hers. "Callie, stop." He pulled the plate from her hand and put it on the counter. "Tell me what he said."

Callie turned around and looked up at Jim. Her eyes moved over his face as if to memorize it. She reached up tentatively and touched his cheek, then traced the outline of his lips. Jim stood waiting for her to speak, not wanting to stop her, but knowing they needed to talk before anything else happened.

"He said he missed me, missed Jeff, and made a deal with the DA to get out of prison…early," she said quietly. "He helped them close a few cold cases and he's getting out."

She dropped her arm and started to walk around Jim to get the rest of the dishes. He stood back and said, just as softly, "Okay."

"Okay," she mumbled, moving around him again. "Okay," she repeated, each time getting a little louder. "Okay?" she finally shouted. "That's all you have to say? 'Okay'?" The last word was punctuated by dishes breaking as they were shoved into the sink. She wheeled on him and said, "After all of … this," she motioned between the two of them, "you have nothing more to say?"

Jim stood a mere foot away from her and could feel the anger and fear radiating outward. He leaned forward, putting one arm on either side of her, pinning her to the sink. He looked directly into her eyes and said with force, "I have a lot more to say, but he's still your husband. I don't have a right to tell you what to do."

She put her hands on his chest and shoved hard. "That's right," she said angrily, "we only slept together. What right does that give you?" She moved across the kitchen, intent on leaving the place where her dreams had been shattered. "I don't need you to tell me anything!"

Jim followed her into the living room, yelling, "Don't give me that bullshit! You know, as well as I do, that what happened last night was not about sex! I …"

Callie stopped and whirled on him, "You what?"

Jim took the three steps necessary to reach Callie and pulled her roughly into his arms and kissed her. He poured his heart out through his mouth and into hers, wanting more than anything to say the words that would make everything better. He felt her melting into him and kiss him back with as much passion as he was giving her. Then she stopped and pulled away.

"That's not an answer," she spat out, wiping the corners of her mouth.

"No, it's not, but it is," he stammered. At her incredulous look, he tried to explain. "You know how I feel about you, Cal. It's been hell being with you without being, well, with you. And now," he gestured towards the kitchen, "now Ray's coming back. I don't want to lose you, but I don't know if I have the right to tell you what to do or ask that I be included in the decision."

Callie couldn't hold Jim's gaze and looked at the floor. She noticed that she was only wearing Jim's shirt and tugged at the hem, trying to pull it lower on her legs. When that didn't work, she grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and pulled it around her, putting a physical barrier between Jim and her runaway emotions.

He continued, "I'd love to say, 'Let's run away together, you, me and Jeff', but I know that's not the answer for any of this. It's your life, yours and Jeff's and…Ray's." The last word left a terrible taste in Jim's mouth. "What do you want?" he said, echoing his query from weeks before.

Dropping the blanket, Callie walked up to Jim, grabbed his face and kissed him like she had that night so many weeks ago. And just like that night, she backed away all too soon. "What I want doesn't matter. What I want has to take a backseat to what is best for my son." She put her hand on his chest and whispered, "I want you, Jim. Never doubt that." Then she walked into her bedroom and closed the door.

Jim stood staring at the door, wanting nothing more than to walk in there and make love to Callie one more time. Wanting to hold her close and whisper words of love and devotion. But he knew her well enough to know that he'd be rebuffed for the effort. Instead, he went into the kitchen to clean up the remnants of breakfast before going home.

.

Jim was staring at his computer screen when Manus stuck her head in the door. "We have a body down at the pier." When he didn't look up, she came into the office and rapped on his desk, finally getting his attention. "Earth to Jim. You okay?"

"Huh? Wha'?" he stuttered, startled out of his reverie. "Yeah. Fine. What's up?"

"Body. Pier. Want it?" she asked, not believing for a moment he was fine.

"Sure. Where am I going?" After she gave him the address, he left and went down to autopsy. "Carlos, get your stuff, we're going."

"Where?"

"Pier. We got a body." Jim didn't wait for Carlos to say anything else, he just walked out of the building knowing his friend would catch up.

Carlos climbed into Jim's car and waited about five minutes before asking, "What's going on?"

"Dead body."

"I gathered." After a momentary pause, he continued, "No, I mean with you."

Jim didn't answer, he just stared straight ahead.

"Okay, man," Carlos said. "But I know something's up. Callie was all psycho woman the other night; you've been moping around for a couple of days and now this. I may normally deal with dead bodies, but even I can see something's amiss here."

Jim didn't break the silence until they pulled up to the crime scene. As he opened the door to get out, he said, "Ray's getting out of prison." With that, he walked away, leaving Carlos' mouth hanging open and scrambling to catch up.

By the time Carlos arrived at the body, Jim was all business. "Vic's name is Kriege Whistler from Tallahassee. Age 32. Gunshot to the head."

Carlos knelt down, trying not to get his trousers full of sand and began his initial exam. "There's some stippling, so she was shot at close range. Body's in rigor so it's been at least three hours. I won't know more until I get her back and open her up."

Jim nodded, getting to his feet and looking around the underside of the pier. "Why is it we always find bodies in the ugliest and dirtiest places? Why can't we find them somewhere, I don't know, clean and pretty?"

"You mean like a golf course?" Carlos retorted.

Jim's breath caught in his throat as images from yesterday flashed through his mind. The murder scene, the game, the trip to Callie's. Shaking his head to clear it, he glared at Carlos, but said nothing. He noticed one of the officers putting down numbered cones, denoting they found something of interest that needed to be photographed. Striding over, he bent down to look at the bullet casing.

"Carlos, looks like a 9mil. What was she shot with?"

"9mil."

Jim indicated to the officer to bag it and continued nosing around the scene. Not seeing anything else that piqued his interest, he walked back to Carlos. "I'll see you back at the station. I'm going to see if I can find a witness."

Carlos watched as Jim walked away, noting his dejected posture and general inattentiveness. The fact that Jim hadn't gotten sarcastic with anyone was a sure sign his head wasn't in the game. Telling himself that he'd keep a watchful eye on Jim, Carlos went back to the work at hand.