4th in the Fearful Symmetry series. Fearful Symmetry, Can't Fight This
Feeling, and Gold Medals precede it.
Note: This story was written months before the episode Big Brother aired, so you're in an alternate universe.
Pairing: H/C
Spoilers: Freaks and Tweaks
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: I own neither CSI-Miami nor the lyrics to Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical The Phantom of the Opera. Don't sue me. You wouldn't get anything, anyway.
Summary: The perfect moment is very hard to find.
Dedication: To everyone who has looked for "the perfect moment" in life and thrown up their hands in hopefully humorous resignation. Murphy of Murphy's Law is alive and well, in real life as well as CSIM fic.
***
Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation.
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination.
Silently the senses abandon their defenses.
The Phantom of the Opera
***
Calleigh lit the final candle and stepped back, checking the atmosphere. Several candles glowed on Horatio's table, their flickering light chasing shadows around the darkened room. A single rose in a vase made the centerpiece, and a wrapped present lay next to it. Calleigh let out a wordless hum of approval. This was what she wanted. Tonight, Horatio would get her personal award for his heroic actions of six weeks ago. Tonight would be perfect.
She glanced at her watch again. Still a good half hour before she could expect him. Horatio had been kenneled in a meeting most of the afternoon with the DA, working over scheduled trials and rescheduled trials. His six weeks out of the office had brought havoc to the carefully planned court dates. He had warned her not to expect him early tonight. "What is this surprise, anyway?"
"Wait and see," she said teasingly. "But I guarantee, you'll like this one. Not like last night." He had groaned in remembrance.
She had absolutely loved last night, herself, but Horatio had simply endured it. The elaborate banquet and award ceremony had been the captain's idea, and he had refused to let it go, although Calleigh and Horatio both had stalled him as long as they could. Last night, though, Horatio had gone to the Waldorf like a martyr to the stake. Over 300 people had been there, members of the press, fellow officers, people who had been on the bridge when it was hit by the runaway boat. All of those closest to Horatio had a place of honor at the first table. Calleigh, Speed, Delko, Alexx and her husband, Yelina, and Ray Jr. had been there. Speed had even shaved for the occasion. After dinner, the lights had dimmed, and they all watched the by- now-famous aerial footage of the bridge collapse on a large screen. As the lights came back on, the room exploded into applause, and Horatio had reluctantly gone up to join the captain and the mayor on the platform. The mayor's speech before he handed over the plaque had lasted five minutes. Horatio's speech hadn't even lasted one, but every word had gone straight to Calleigh's heart. As he took the plaque, he said, "My mother taught me early on that the real meaning of life is not in the awards, the accomplishments, but in how many people you touch along the way. To everyone here who was at that bridge, I'm glad our lives touched. Any other officer, any other person would have done the same thing. I just happened to be there." The room exploded again into applause, led by the group at the head table, and Horatio accepted his plaque and made his way back down to his friends. He passed the citation around, letting them look at it, but Calleigh knew that the award that had meant the most to him had been given earlier in the evening, when a weeping woman had embraced him so tightly he could hardly breath and kissed him on each cheek. Then she handed her baby over to him, and Horatio picked up the squirming infant and looked him eye- to-eye. "I'm glad to meet you under better circumstances, Chris," he said solemnly, and the baby had stopped squirming and looked right back at him, frozen in his squirming by pure magnetism.
Remembering him last night, Calleigh let out a sigh of pure contentment. Horatio. Her Horatio. And she knew absolutely, with every fiber of her soul, that he was her Horatio. Whatever problems might come up in the future, he had fully accepted her involvement in his life now and even welcomed it. Whatever happened from here on, they would be in it together.
She glanced at the wrapped present on the table. It had taken her weeks of hard work to put this gift together. Struck by Horatio's gift to Eric, the perfect matching of the gift to the recipient, she had challenged herself to equal it, to give Horatio something that he would truly value, that would touch him in a way that a public banquet would not. She was satisfied with her choice, but she still couldn't wait to look into his eyes as he opened it. She started for the kitchen to begin making supper.
Calleigh's cell phone rang, shattering her thoughts. "Duquesne," she said in a business-like fashion, although she hoped it was Horatio. No such luck.
"Calleigh, this is Ruth down at Maxie's. Your dad is down here, and he's really far gone. We've stopped serving him, but he won't leave." No, thought Calleigh rebelliously. Not tonight. Damn you, Dad. She looked at her watch again. Horatio wasn't due yet.
"Okay," she said. "I'll be right there." Resigned, she switched on the lights and blew out the candles. Ripping a piece of paper off the pad by the phone, she wrote quickly, "Horatio, I've got to run a quick errand. I'll be back soon. Do NOT open the present. Love, Calleigh." Perversely, she propped the note on the present, just to taunt him, and gathered her car keys.
As Calleigh drove to Maxie's, she felt her irritation with her father, chronically suppressed, boil to the surface like a volcano. He would NOT ruin this night for her. At least he hadn't picked last night. When he arrived in Miami a few days ago to visit, she had greeted him at the airport by stating, "Daddy, I've got something really important to go to on Sunday night. I can't be with you then." He started to make coming along noises, and she stopped him cold. Her father was not going to show up half drunk (or worse) and ruin Horatio's banquet. Every night of their visit, she had reminded him how important Sunday night was and how absolutely unavailable she would be. He had actually listened for once, and nothing had happened last night. "I should have reserved tonight from him, too," she growled, pulling into Maxie's. "In fact, I should have reserved the rest of my life."
Calleigh stalked into the bar, and the men crowding the counter parted like the Red Sea in the face of her determined wrath. Her father was at the far end, barely holding himself on his stool. "Lambchop," he slurred. "Guess you had time for me tonight, huh?"
"Come on, Daddy." Calleigh jerked him to his feet too quickly, and he nearly fell over. Regaining his shifting balance, he leaned heavily against her, and they lurched together out to the parking lot. Calleigh tucked him into the passenger's seat, buckled him in, and started the car herself, pulling out a little too fast. She glanced across at him as she stopped for the first light, but she quickly realized that he wasn't in any shape to hear her tirade. His head had rolled sideways onto his shoulders, and his mouth was open slightly. He really was gone off the deep end tonight. He must have had the first several rounds elsewhere and already been half flown when Maxie's started serving him. His greeting to her stabbed briefly at her conscience, and she shoved it back down. Damn it, she had the right to tell her father that she couldn't go haul him out of a bar on a night when she had to attend a banquet.
She pulled up to the motel where he was staying and somehow got him into the room and into the bed. She took off his shoes and covered him lightly with a blanket. He was still snoring, dead to the world. She took his pulse, which was strong and steady, then left him there, locking the door behind her. Now, she thought bitterly, to my perfect evening. But the tension knotting her shoulders would not go away.
***
Calleigh stopped halfway up the sidewalk to Horatio's house. He was playing the piano, and the sounds drifted through the open window and straight to her soul. "The Music of the Night," from Phantom of the Opera. How she wanted to let her senses abandon their defenses tonight. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to float away on the soaring melody, but the tension was still there. Horatio finished the piece, then came to the door, looking out. Like radar, he had sensed her. She came the rest of the way up the sidewalk, hiding herself in his arms.
"What is it?" he said, his eyes narrowed with concern.
"My father." No other explanation was needed. He filled in the puzzle pieces instantly.
"I'm sorry." He held her close, running his hands soothingly over her back. Calleigh melted against him for a moment, then straightened up.
"We are NOT going to let him ruin this evening. Come on. Like I said, I have a surprise for you." She stalked into the house with a fierce determination that brought a sad smile to Horatio's lips. He wished he knew what to say about her father, how to help. "Did you leave the present alone?" said Calleigh with forced cheerfulness.
"You didn't say to leave it alone; you said not to open it."
"Horatio!" She spun around on him, and he grinned at the exasperation in her voice. He had succeeded in distracting her a bit from her father, as he had intended.
"I just shook it," he said.
"Like a kid at Christmas." She shook her own head. "Come on, let's eat, and then you can have it."
"I would have started cooking, but I wasn't sure how long you'd be."
"Doesn't matter; we'll cook together. C'mere." She opened the fridge and watched him out of the corner of her eye as he crossed the kitchen. There was a very faint stiffness on the left leg, not really a limp, only noticeable if you knew how smoothly he usually moved, but that would soon disappear. It was already better in just the week since he had had the cast removed. In a few months, when the 4-inch scar down his right temple had faded, it would be hard to tell anything had happened to him. "How was the DA?" she said as he joined her.
"Read me the riot act. Next time, I'm supposed to let everyone die and meet his court dates instead." Horatio and the DA had never seen eye to eye since the Sandoval case. Calleigh snorted, and Horatio studied her surreptitiously as they prepared dinner. She was a little more relaxed now, but the undercurrent of tension was still there. He fingered his own surprise, a small box in his jacket pocket, but reluctantly decided that this was not the night. He wanted the perfect moment, and she was too fresh from the insult of dealing with her father. Not that he had much doubt about her answer, but he wanted to be accepted as himself, wholly, not just in comparison to the drunken old man she had just pulled out of a bar. He would not ask her while that contrast was fresh in her mind. There will be other evenings, he told himself.
They relit the candles and turned out the lights before eating, and the flickering of the flame heightened the intimacy of the meal. Finally, Calleigh reached for the wrapped present. "To my hero," she said, watching him duck away as expected from the compliment. "I don't have your mother's current resources, but I've done the best I could with a month." Curious now, he tore the paper off, not bothering to save it. Calleigh watched him intently, recording this with her memory, to be played over and over and savored.
The gift was a photo album. He opened it and stared at the neat calligraphy inside the front cover, which read, "4182 . . . and counting." The first picture was of Calleigh herself, a studio shot she had had taken just a few weeks ago, with her hair down the way he liked it and a slight smile on her lips that had been placed there by the thought of him. He stared at it for a long moment, then turned the pages. One by one, pictures of people he had saved were smiling at him. Everyone who had been on the bridge. The entire CSI team. People he had saved in his bomb squad and homicide days. It took him a good 30 minutes to go through all of them, 310 pictures in all, the fruits of an exhausting month's track work for Calleigh. Horatio's eyes were moist as he finished, and he flipped back to the first picture again, Calleigh. He savored the image, then looked up at the reality. Even better. "Thank you," he said. "This is incredible. How did you find all these people?" He did not have to ask who they were.
"Lots of help from computers," she said. The look in his eyes made all the hours worth it. She had asked herself over and over after seeing his gift to Eric, what does matter to Horatio? What touches him more than anything? The answer had been simple: People. The people whose lives he had touched were what mattered, like he had said in his speech last night. Not the awards, but the people.
He stood and came around behind her chair, wrapping both arms around her, bending over to kiss her on the forehead, then proceeding down her nose until he finally landed on her lips. She shuddered in pure delight and returned his embrace, and his kisses, wholeheartedly.
For the second time that evening, the moment was interrupted by a cell phone, this time Horatio's. He groaned but reluctantly straightened and grabbed the phone from his jacket pocket. "Horatio," he said in a slightly less than welcoming voice.
"Horatio, you probably don't remember me, but it's Susie."
"Susie?" He instantly placed the name. "Sure, I remember you, but I thought you went to Indiana."
"I did, actually. And believe it or not, I wound up in rehab."
"That's great, Susie," he said, meaning it. "I wish you the best with it."
"Thanks," she replied. "It was thinking of you that got me to go, actually. You saying that it wasn't too late to start a new life. Anyway, I just got out of a 60 day program. I've been thinking all the time I was up there, and my mind is clearer now than it was. I just got back in Miami, and I'd like to talk to you about some things."
"Fine, Susie. We could meet sometime this week."
"Tonight," she insisted. "I've got to get this off my chest as soon as possible."
"Tonight isn't good," said Horatio, meeting Calleigh's eyes.
"It's about Tin Man."
Horatio froze. "You know more than you told me?"
"A lot more. Nothing definite, but things you could work with. It just seemed to matter to you so much, the way you asked about him."
"Where can we meet?" She provided the address of her motel. "Great, I can be there in 30 minutes."
"Come alone," she said. "This is going to be hard enough with just you."
"Right, see you soon."
He snapped the phone shut, and Calleigh stared at him. "Who is Susie?"
"A druggie that I met on the case where Chaz was put away."
Dear God, not that case again, thought Calleigh. Horatio's soul had been raked by that one, and the entire department had heard how it had ended, with Horatio coming within inches of actually assaulting Chaz.
"She said she has some information about Ray." His eyes pleaded for understanding. "I have to go, Calleigh."
She understood, even if she didn't like it. "I know, Horatio. It's okay. Do you want me to go with you?"
"I'd like that, but she said to come alone."
Calleigh pushed her chair back and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. A gentle kiss this time, not with the passion of a few minutes ago, but reminding him of her support. "Go ahead. But be careful, alright?"
"Always." Right, she snorted, as he picked up his gun and badge. His eyes were already distant, his mind already out of the house. She hugged him again, then watched him leave. My perfect evening, she thought, but her thoughts couldn't stay in self-pity for long. They jumped over to concern instantly. Whatever Susie had to tell him about Ray, Calleigh hoped it wouldn't reopen old, unhealed wounds. She thought of waiting for him, but it was quite possible that he would go from the meeting with Susie straight onto whatever scent she was putting him on. He would easily be gone a few hours. Enough time for Calleigh to check on her father again.
***
Calleigh unlocked the motel room and switched on the light. Her father was still dead to the world, passed out on the bed, but Calleigh suddenly noticed his color. Surely he hadn't been that pale earlier. No, she remembered, he had been flushed with the liquor, but now, he was dead white. She quickly went over to take his pulse again. This time, it was uneven, thready. "Daddy," she said, shaking him. No response. His skin was clammy, though, and he just did not look right. Calleigh instantly dialed 911, then sat by her father, listening to his shallow breaths as she waited for the ambulance. Her first instinct was to call Horatio on his cell phone, but she suppressed it. He was finding out inside information about Ray, and she didn't want to distract him. He had enough to deal with at the moment. She called his home instead, leaving a message on the answering machine. Then, she called Alexx. As she hung up, the ambulance pulled into the motel lot, the red and blue lights leaping through the windows and flashing around the room in a sick parody of the candlelight earlier that evening. Just perfect, she told herself.
TBC . . .
Note: This story was written months before the episode Big Brother aired, so you're in an alternate universe.
Pairing: H/C
Spoilers: Freaks and Tweaks
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: I own neither CSI-Miami nor the lyrics to Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical The Phantom of the Opera. Don't sue me. You wouldn't get anything, anyway.
Summary: The perfect moment is very hard to find.
Dedication: To everyone who has looked for "the perfect moment" in life and thrown up their hands in hopefully humorous resignation. Murphy of Murphy's Law is alive and well, in real life as well as CSIM fic.
***
Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation.
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination.
Silently the senses abandon their defenses.
The Phantom of the Opera
***
Calleigh lit the final candle and stepped back, checking the atmosphere. Several candles glowed on Horatio's table, their flickering light chasing shadows around the darkened room. A single rose in a vase made the centerpiece, and a wrapped present lay next to it. Calleigh let out a wordless hum of approval. This was what she wanted. Tonight, Horatio would get her personal award for his heroic actions of six weeks ago. Tonight would be perfect.
She glanced at her watch again. Still a good half hour before she could expect him. Horatio had been kenneled in a meeting most of the afternoon with the DA, working over scheduled trials and rescheduled trials. His six weeks out of the office had brought havoc to the carefully planned court dates. He had warned her not to expect him early tonight. "What is this surprise, anyway?"
"Wait and see," she said teasingly. "But I guarantee, you'll like this one. Not like last night." He had groaned in remembrance.
She had absolutely loved last night, herself, but Horatio had simply endured it. The elaborate banquet and award ceremony had been the captain's idea, and he had refused to let it go, although Calleigh and Horatio both had stalled him as long as they could. Last night, though, Horatio had gone to the Waldorf like a martyr to the stake. Over 300 people had been there, members of the press, fellow officers, people who had been on the bridge when it was hit by the runaway boat. All of those closest to Horatio had a place of honor at the first table. Calleigh, Speed, Delko, Alexx and her husband, Yelina, and Ray Jr. had been there. Speed had even shaved for the occasion. After dinner, the lights had dimmed, and they all watched the by- now-famous aerial footage of the bridge collapse on a large screen. As the lights came back on, the room exploded into applause, and Horatio had reluctantly gone up to join the captain and the mayor on the platform. The mayor's speech before he handed over the plaque had lasted five minutes. Horatio's speech hadn't even lasted one, but every word had gone straight to Calleigh's heart. As he took the plaque, he said, "My mother taught me early on that the real meaning of life is not in the awards, the accomplishments, but in how many people you touch along the way. To everyone here who was at that bridge, I'm glad our lives touched. Any other officer, any other person would have done the same thing. I just happened to be there." The room exploded again into applause, led by the group at the head table, and Horatio accepted his plaque and made his way back down to his friends. He passed the citation around, letting them look at it, but Calleigh knew that the award that had meant the most to him had been given earlier in the evening, when a weeping woman had embraced him so tightly he could hardly breath and kissed him on each cheek. Then she handed her baby over to him, and Horatio picked up the squirming infant and looked him eye- to-eye. "I'm glad to meet you under better circumstances, Chris," he said solemnly, and the baby had stopped squirming and looked right back at him, frozen in his squirming by pure magnetism.
Remembering him last night, Calleigh let out a sigh of pure contentment. Horatio. Her Horatio. And she knew absolutely, with every fiber of her soul, that he was her Horatio. Whatever problems might come up in the future, he had fully accepted her involvement in his life now and even welcomed it. Whatever happened from here on, they would be in it together.
She glanced at the wrapped present on the table. It had taken her weeks of hard work to put this gift together. Struck by Horatio's gift to Eric, the perfect matching of the gift to the recipient, she had challenged herself to equal it, to give Horatio something that he would truly value, that would touch him in a way that a public banquet would not. She was satisfied with her choice, but she still couldn't wait to look into his eyes as he opened it. She started for the kitchen to begin making supper.
Calleigh's cell phone rang, shattering her thoughts. "Duquesne," she said in a business-like fashion, although she hoped it was Horatio. No such luck.
"Calleigh, this is Ruth down at Maxie's. Your dad is down here, and he's really far gone. We've stopped serving him, but he won't leave." No, thought Calleigh rebelliously. Not tonight. Damn you, Dad. She looked at her watch again. Horatio wasn't due yet.
"Okay," she said. "I'll be right there." Resigned, she switched on the lights and blew out the candles. Ripping a piece of paper off the pad by the phone, she wrote quickly, "Horatio, I've got to run a quick errand. I'll be back soon. Do NOT open the present. Love, Calleigh." Perversely, she propped the note on the present, just to taunt him, and gathered her car keys.
As Calleigh drove to Maxie's, she felt her irritation with her father, chronically suppressed, boil to the surface like a volcano. He would NOT ruin this night for her. At least he hadn't picked last night. When he arrived in Miami a few days ago to visit, she had greeted him at the airport by stating, "Daddy, I've got something really important to go to on Sunday night. I can't be with you then." He started to make coming along noises, and she stopped him cold. Her father was not going to show up half drunk (or worse) and ruin Horatio's banquet. Every night of their visit, she had reminded him how important Sunday night was and how absolutely unavailable she would be. He had actually listened for once, and nothing had happened last night. "I should have reserved tonight from him, too," she growled, pulling into Maxie's. "In fact, I should have reserved the rest of my life."
Calleigh stalked into the bar, and the men crowding the counter parted like the Red Sea in the face of her determined wrath. Her father was at the far end, barely holding himself on his stool. "Lambchop," he slurred. "Guess you had time for me tonight, huh?"
"Come on, Daddy." Calleigh jerked him to his feet too quickly, and he nearly fell over. Regaining his shifting balance, he leaned heavily against her, and they lurched together out to the parking lot. Calleigh tucked him into the passenger's seat, buckled him in, and started the car herself, pulling out a little too fast. She glanced across at him as she stopped for the first light, but she quickly realized that he wasn't in any shape to hear her tirade. His head had rolled sideways onto his shoulders, and his mouth was open slightly. He really was gone off the deep end tonight. He must have had the first several rounds elsewhere and already been half flown when Maxie's started serving him. His greeting to her stabbed briefly at her conscience, and she shoved it back down. Damn it, she had the right to tell her father that she couldn't go haul him out of a bar on a night when she had to attend a banquet.
She pulled up to the motel where he was staying and somehow got him into the room and into the bed. She took off his shoes and covered him lightly with a blanket. He was still snoring, dead to the world. She took his pulse, which was strong and steady, then left him there, locking the door behind her. Now, she thought bitterly, to my perfect evening. But the tension knotting her shoulders would not go away.
***
Calleigh stopped halfway up the sidewalk to Horatio's house. He was playing the piano, and the sounds drifted through the open window and straight to her soul. "The Music of the Night," from Phantom of the Opera. How she wanted to let her senses abandon their defenses tonight. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to float away on the soaring melody, but the tension was still there. Horatio finished the piece, then came to the door, looking out. Like radar, he had sensed her. She came the rest of the way up the sidewalk, hiding herself in his arms.
"What is it?" he said, his eyes narrowed with concern.
"My father." No other explanation was needed. He filled in the puzzle pieces instantly.
"I'm sorry." He held her close, running his hands soothingly over her back. Calleigh melted against him for a moment, then straightened up.
"We are NOT going to let him ruin this evening. Come on. Like I said, I have a surprise for you." She stalked into the house with a fierce determination that brought a sad smile to Horatio's lips. He wished he knew what to say about her father, how to help. "Did you leave the present alone?" said Calleigh with forced cheerfulness.
"You didn't say to leave it alone; you said not to open it."
"Horatio!" She spun around on him, and he grinned at the exasperation in her voice. He had succeeded in distracting her a bit from her father, as he had intended.
"I just shook it," he said.
"Like a kid at Christmas." She shook her own head. "Come on, let's eat, and then you can have it."
"I would have started cooking, but I wasn't sure how long you'd be."
"Doesn't matter; we'll cook together. C'mere." She opened the fridge and watched him out of the corner of her eye as he crossed the kitchen. There was a very faint stiffness on the left leg, not really a limp, only noticeable if you knew how smoothly he usually moved, but that would soon disappear. It was already better in just the week since he had had the cast removed. In a few months, when the 4-inch scar down his right temple had faded, it would be hard to tell anything had happened to him. "How was the DA?" she said as he joined her.
"Read me the riot act. Next time, I'm supposed to let everyone die and meet his court dates instead." Horatio and the DA had never seen eye to eye since the Sandoval case. Calleigh snorted, and Horatio studied her surreptitiously as they prepared dinner. She was a little more relaxed now, but the undercurrent of tension was still there. He fingered his own surprise, a small box in his jacket pocket, but reluctantly decided that this was not the night. He wanted the perfect moment, and she was too fresh from the insult of dealing with her father. Not that he had much doubt about her answer, but he wanted to be accepted as himself, wholly, not just in comparison to the drunken old man she had just pulled out of a bar. He would not ask her while that contrast was fresh in her mind. There will be other evenings, he told himself.
They relit the candles and turned out the lights before eating, and the flickering of the flame heightened the intimacy of the meal. Finally, Calleigh reached for the wrapped present. "To my hero," she said, watching him duck away as expected from the compliment. "I don't have your mother's current resources, but I've done the best I could with a month." Curious now, he tore the paper off, not bothering to save it. Calleigh watched him intently, recording this with her memory, to be played over and over and savored.
The gift was a photo album. He opened it and stared at the neat calligraphy inside the front cover, which read, "4182 . . . and counting." The first picture was of Calleigh herself, a studio shot she had had taken just a few weeks ago, with her hair down the way he liked it and a slight smile on her lips that had been placed there by the thought of him. He stared at it for a long moment, then turned the pages. One by one, pictures of people he had saved were smiling at him. Everyone who had been on the bridge. The entire CSI team. People he had saved in his bomb squad and homicide days. It took him a good 30 minutes to go through all of them, 310 pictures in all, the fruits of an exhausting month's track work for Calleigh. Horatio's eyes were moist as he finished, and he flipped back to the first picture again, Calleigh. He savored the image, then looked up at the reality. Even better. "Thank you," he said. "This is incredible. How did you find all these people?" He did not have to ask who they were.
"Lots of help from computers," she said. The look in his eyes made all the hours worth it. She had asked herself over and over after seeing his gift to Eric, what does matter to Horatio? What touches him more than anything? The answer had been simple: People. The people whose lives he had touched were what mattered, like he had said in his speech last night. Not the awards, but the people.
He stood and came around behind her chair, wrapping both arms around her, bending over to kiss her on the forehead, then proceeding down her nose until he finally landed on her lips. She shuddered in pure delight and returned his embrace, and his kisses, wholeheartedly.
For the second time that evening, the moment was interrupted by a cell phone, this time Horatio's. He groaned but reluctantly straightened and grabbed the phone from his jacket pocket. "Horatio," he said in a slightly less than welcoming voice.
"Horatio, you probably don't remember me, but it's Susie."
"Susie?" He instantly placed the name. "Sure, I remember you, but I thought you went to Indiana."
"I did, actually. And believe it or not, I wound up in rehab."
"That's great, Susie," he said, meaning it. "I wish you the best with it."
"Thanks," she replied. "It was thinking of you that got me to go, actually. You saying that it wasn't too late to start a new life. Anyway, I just got out of a 60 day program. I've been thinking all the time I was up there, and my mind is clearer now than it was. I just got back in Miami, and I'd like to talk to you about some things."
"Fine, Susie. We could meet sometime this week."
"Tonight," she insisted. "I've got to get this off my chest as soon as possible."
"Tonight isn't good," said Horatio, meeting Calleigh's eyes.
"It's about Tin Man."
Horatio froze. "You know more than you told me?"
"A lot more. Nothing definite, but things you could work with. It just seemed to matter to you so much, the way you asked about him."
"Where can we meet?" She provided the address of her motel. "Great, I can be there in 30 minutes."
"Come alone," she said. "This is going to be hard enough with just you."
"Right, see you soon."
He snapped the phone shut, and Calleigh stared at him. "Who is Susie?"
"A druggie that I met on the case where Chaz was put away."
Dear God, not that case again, thought Calleigh. Horatio's soul had been raked by that one, and the entire department had heard how it had ended, with Horatio coming within inches of actually assaulting Chaz.
"She said she has some information about Ray." His eyes pleaded for understanding. "I have to go, Calleigh."
She understood, even if she didn't like it. "I know, Horatio. It's okay. Do you want me to go with you?"
"I'd like that, but she said to come alone."
Calleigh pushed her chair back and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. A gentle kiss this time, not with the passion of a few minutes ago, but reminding him of her support. "Go ahead. But be careful, alright?"
"Always." Right, she snorted, as he picked up his gun and badge. His eyes were already distant, his mind already out of the house. She hugged him again, then watched him leave. My perfect evening, she thought, but her thoughts couldn't stay in self-pity for long. They jumped over to concern instantly. Whatever Susie had to tell him about Ray, Calleigh hoped it wouldn't reopen old, unhealed wounds. She thought of waiting for him, but it was quite possible that he would go from the meeting with Susie straight onto whatever scent she was putting him on. He would easily be gone a few hours. Enough time for Calleigh to check on her father again.
***
Calleigh unlocked the motel room and switched on the light. Her father was still dead to the world, passed out on the bed, but Calleigh suddenly noticed his color. Surely he hadn't been that pale earlier. No, she remembered, he had been flushed with the liquor, but now, he was dead white. She quickly went over to take his pulse again. This time, it was uneven, thready. "Daddy," she said, shaking him. No response. His skin was clammy, though, and he just did not look right. Calleigh instantly dialed 911, then sat by her father, listening to his shallow breaths as she waited for the ambulance. Her first instinct was to call Horatio on his cell phone, but she suppressed it. He was finding out inside information about Ray, and she didn't want to distract him. He had enough to deal with at the moment. She called his home instead, leaving a message on the answering machine. Then, she called Alexx. As she hung up, the ambulance pulled into the motel lot, the red and blue lights leaping through the windows and flashing around the room in a sick parody of the candlelight earlier that evening. Just perfect, she told herself.
TBC . . .