A/N: Okay, so this is my first foray into the CSI: Miami world-as an author anyway. I was writing for Criminal Minds, but I'm rather furious at the show/show writers right now so those projects have been put on hold. This one is something that popped into my mind when I was watching an episode of Miami the other day and it sort of wouldn't leave me alone. It's complete and utter fluff, so if you're looking for angst, you won't find it here. Please read, I hope you enjoy it, and regardless of if you do or not, please feel free to drop me a line and let me know what you think! Also, I'm posting the first real chapter at the same time, because this is just a prologue that sort of sets up everything else, so at least try out that chapter as it's a much better display of how the rest of the story will be.
Stills of a Lifetime
Prologue
They had more photographs than they would ever know what to do with. Hundreds, thousands, millions of pictures.
Eric was pretty sure that they had enough pictures to fill up an entire house—thank God that some of them were still in digital form or they may not have any space to live—but he'd be lying if he said that he'd get rid of any of them.
Most of them were sitting in boxes, neatly labeled in Calleigh's elegant script indicating when or where that particular box of photographs related to. It was just like her to keep it all neat and organized. If it was up to him, half of them probably never would have been developed and the ones that had would have all been thrown in a trunk.
That was the beauty of their relationship, though; they kept one another balanced.
And while Eric thought that they had entirely too many pictures in general, as he circled the modestly sized living room of their shared home, he couldn't help but admire the way that these pictures documented their life together.
Each picture in this room was contained by a dark wood frame, giving it a homogenized and organized look, but the way that they were grouped and scattered showed the combining of Calleigh and Eric's conflicting styles.
Eric couldn't help himself; every time that he was in this room, he had to study the pictures. They spoke volumes of the happiness and the love shared by the occupants of their cozy home and those that they were closest to.