DISCLAIMER: If you recognize them, I don't own them.
A/N: This will probably be the only fic I write in which I acknowledge the show's writers MEAN-SPIRITED, JUVENILE decision to kill off Speed. Yes, I'm still bitter. :) I wrote this story because Emily Procter's portrayal of Calleigh in the C/H lab scene and after she gets on the elevator bothers me everytime I watch 10-7. So I decided to write a story about what Calleigh must have done after she left the lab to make myself feel better. :) There is some editing of the lab scene between Calleigh and Hagen just to speed it along. Oh, to any "Playing House" readers: I'm working on chapter three. I'm dealing with some hardcore writer's block for the story, although for some reason, I keep getting ideas for short stories. So hopefully by writing shorts, I'll be able to update PH soon. Sorry guys! All I have to say is thank goodness for A&E! lol
Calleigh was not having a good year. She was still reeling from the death of one of her closest friends and co-workers. She had just started being able to go to crime scenes without having to first talk herself into getting out of the Hummer. And her first thought upon waking in the morning didn't involve a running tally of how many days it had been since they had laid Speed in the ground. She was investigating a crime scene at a club where an explosion had happened when she felt the cold steel of a gun barrel press against her scalp and the terrifying click of someone pulling the trigger. She closed her eyes, knowing that she was going to be the second CSI killed in the line of duty in just a few short months. Then, just as suddenly as the gun was pressed against her head, it was removed, and the person who had held the gun to her head was gone. She returned to the lab to process the evidence, and to track down the bastard that had threatened her life.
"Calleigh." Only one man had ever been able to say her name in a way that sent involuntary shivers down her spine every time she heard it. She turned around, surprised to see John Hagen in the ballistics lab. She did her best to put up a strong front, reminding herself of the bad times in their relationship.
"You know why I became a cop?" He was saying. "To help people; be someone's hero."
"That's a good reason," Calleigh replied, inwardly proud of her ability to keep her distance from him.
"Yep. Only I haven't felt like on lately." Hagen's countenance changed as he lost his struggle to put on a brave face. While Calleigh could see through anyone's lies, she was also the only woman he had let inside of him. She was the only woman that he had ever wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Even though their relationship was long over, he still held on to the hope that they could move past everything.
"You've been through a lot, John. You'll bounce back."
He could feel her distance. She wasn't going to make it easy on him, but that was okay. She was worth every test she put him through. If he had to spend the rest of his life proving that he was a good man, he would. He walked closer to her, knowing the effect he had on her, hoping that by closing the physical distance between them, he could close the emotional distance as well. "I feel like I'll never live down being the partner of a dirty cop," he confessed.
"Everybody knows that you're a great detective, John."
"Do you?" The haunted look in his ocean blue eyes made her heart hurt. She felt her self-control slipping as a result of his vulnerability. She was torn between stepping closer to him so he could wrap his strong arms around her, holding her close to his solid body, and politely telling him to get lost. They were a curious mix of polar opposites and similar creatures, but there had been no better relationship in the world than when they were "on." She knew what she had to do.
"I know how hard you work," she paused. "I would really love to be friends with you, John."
That's when he knew she was gone. She had moved on, and she had no intention of letting him back in. It was then that he knew he had lost everything, that he had nothing to live for. He exhaled a soft whistle. "The harshest thing a woman can say to a man," he replied, trying to keep her from pitying him. She probably already did, but she was doing a good job of hiding it from her eyes.
"Look, why don't I pack up the evidence and we'll go grab a cup of coffee from the break room?" She found herself compromising with herself. One cup of coffee isn't enough to change your mind about him, she convinced herself. She turned around and began cleaning up the lab. And then came the moment that would forever alter her life. The unmistakable sound of the pull of the trigger on the gun that had been held to her head earlier that day, and the heart-stopping sound of a bullet being expelled from its magazine and through a gun barrel. She turned around just in time to watch the man who would always have a piece of her heart hit the ground, his blood spreading across the cold, hard linoleum of the ballistics lab. Too stunned to do anything at first, she managed to call Alexx, although she didn't remember doing so. The next thing she knew, Eric was standing beside her, his concern for her written all over his face. She could see the struggle within him, and she knew that he was trying to figure out what to say to her, whether he should hold her, or leave her be. She wanted to be held, but to her surprise, only by the man that was now lying on the metal stretcher that was being wheeled before her. She found herself fighting emotions and feelings about John that she hadn't expected to feel again.
After Hagen had been taken away, Eric was called by Horatio to disarm a dirty bomb in Carrillo Park. Calleigh picked up a gun and got back to work. As she aimed the gun at the target, a red drop of blood fell from the ceiling onto the sleeve of her spotless white lab coat. Looking down at the stain and then up at the ceiling, she felt the sting of tears at the back of her eyes, surprising her. Fighting a breakdown, she put the gun away, took her name off the employee directory on the wall and walked to her locker. She took off the lab coat, throwing it into the laundry basket in the locker room and tugging her purse over her shoulder. Unable to hold her tears back any longer, she was grateful that she didn't see anyone on her way out of the building. She unlocked her Jeep and got in. She sat in the driver's seat without starting the vehicle, rivers flowing from her eyes as heaving sobs escaped from deep within her. She cried until she felt sick, and then she started the Jeep, tears still falling gently. She drove to the only place she wanted to be.
She had been here many, many times, but never under these circumstances. The fact that this would be the last time she would ever pull up into the driveway, the last time she would ever walk in the front door sent a fresh wave of sobs through her. The silence of the house was louder than anything she had ever heard before. She had never been in his house without him before. She barely made it to the bathroom before she threw up everything she had consumed that day. Staggering to her feet, she walked into his bedroom. She removed her clothes, keeping only her underwear on. She reached into his closet and pulled out her favorite shirt of his. She walked into his bathroom and used his soap to wash her face. She doused herself in his cologne and used his toothbrush to get the taste of vomit out of her mouth. She left his bathroom reeking of him and walked to the kitchen where she poured herself a small glass of Crown Royal, his choice of liquor. The combination of toothpaste and whiskey wasn't a good one, but the whiskey soon overpowered the toothpaste. She stared out his kitchen window until the jingle of a pet collar brought her back to reality.
She turned around as Cash, his beloved golden retriever walked into the kitchen, confused but happy to see Calleigh. She sank to floor, still holding on to her glass of whiskey, and she pressed her face into his soft fur. "He's never coming back, Cashie. He's never coming back and its all my fault," she sobbed into the dog's stomach. Cash sat patiently, his tail gently wagging on the kitchen floor. She pulled away from him to sneeze, and when she looked back at him, he leaned in and licked her face. She sat on the floor, drinking the whiskey as fast as she could and stroking the dog's back, the tears continuing to fall. She stood up only when she ran out of whiskey. She poured herself another glass, and she began walking around the house, Cash following her as if to keep an eye on her. Calleigh ran a hand over the kitchen counter tops, along the walls as she made her way to the family room, and along the bookcases and the entertainment center. She slid her hand across the couch cushions where they had spent many nights cuddled up, sometimes watching TV or a movie, sometimes watching only each other. She sat down in his leather recliner and pressed her face against the fabric, the smell of him so strong on the chair and on her that she thought for a minute he was there. She sat and daydreamed about their moments together until it got dark, Cash standing sentry beside her. She got up only when she could no longer see. She stumbled into his bedroom, and lay down on his side of the bed, pressing her face to his pillow and inhaling deeply. She cried herself to sleep, wanting to dream of him but unable to do so.
She woke up in the middle of the night and realized that she had shifted to the other side, what used to be her side, of the bed. That is, when she wasn't sleeping in the middle of the bed, pressed up against John. She recalled the teasing conversations between them, all of them centering around John's typically male need for space and Calleigh's typically female need to curl up next to him.
"You're in my space again, Cal."
"Hmmmm?" She replied sleepily.
"I'm a growing boy, I need my space."
"You didn't need your space a few hours ago when you were on top of me."
She could see his smile in the soft light that filtered through his blinds from the street light outside. "That's different."
"Well, pretend its different right now," she answered, snuggling up to his side, resting the palm of her hand on his chest. She felt his head shift on his pillow, his lips making contact with her forehead.
He reached across his body and pulled her tighter against him. "Okay, but just this once."
She laughed softly, knowing that he needed to be next to her as much as she needed to be next to him.
She rolled over and noticed a bulky shape lying in John's usual spot. "John?" She breathed, scooting closer to him. She heard the unmistakable sound of a dog's whine. "Cash," she answered out loud, disappointed it wasn't John. More tears began to course down her cheeks. She fell asleep again and didn't wake up until later that morning. Cash was still in the same spot he had been in earlier, his refusal to leave her in his eyes. She got up to use the bathroom and realized that she needed to call Horatio. She did so, informing him that she needed to take a week of personal leave. Horatio was hesitant to approve her request, only because he was worried about her. He convinced himself that she needed it, though, as Calleigh never called in, and he wasn't sure she had completely recovered from Speed's death before watching a man she cared deeply about kill himself. He had heard the whispering that her name was no longer on the employee directory, something he had immediately confirmed for himself.
"All right, Calleigh, I'll approve your request, but I'm going to come by your condo tomorrow with the paperwork.
"Horatio-" she interrupted.
"Calleigh, if you don't accept my deal, I won't accept your request."
"Okay," Calleigh agreed reluctantly, knowing it was Horatio's way of checking up on her. She ended the conversation and walked into the kitchen, giving Cash food and fresh water. She returned to the bedroom and got back into bed, curling around his pillow.
Calleigh spent all day in bed, holding John's pillow close. Cash stayed with her, leaving only periodically. She went to sleep that night, knowing that it would be the last night she spent in his bed, in his house, in his neighborhood. Her tears had been on and off all day, and they turned back on when she started thinking about lasts. Her eyes and nose were so raw, she almost wished it could be her last night crying. Morning came too soon, and she hesitantly got out of bed. She put her clothes back on, but held on to the shirt. Against her better judgment, she grabbed his bottle of cologne and the Crown Royal. It wasn't until Cash followed her to the front door that she realized something had to be done about him. She knew she was most likely leaving the house for good, and though she knew it was only a matter of time before John's parents came to deal with his estate, she didn't know when they would be able to stomach walking into their dead son's house. She left a note for them, explaining that she had taken Cash temporarily, and asking them to call her if they needed help with anything or if they wanted to pick up Cash. She found herself hoping they wouldn't want to keep him. She grabbed Cash's food and water bowls and remembered that she had to grab his food, leash, several toys and his bed as well. She sighed when she saw the fifty pound bag of dog food and made a trip to her jeep and came back into the house. She grabbed the food, put the leash on Cash and left the house. She locked the door, kissed her fingers and then touched the door. She let Cash into the Jeep and walked around the front, getting in and backing out of the driveway. Cash finally seemed to understand that his life was changing. He whined as Calleigh drove away from John's house, restlessly looking for a way out of the vehicle.
"I know how you feel, kiddo."