Disclaimer: Not my characters. Jerry, how could you? (sigh) But oh, the possibilities for angsty fic . . . be still my heart.
A/N: As always, thanks to Nath for the super-speedy beta. Based on spoilers from the season 3 finale. I haven't seen the episode, but from the rants on the H/C list, I couldn't get rid of this thought . . .

And I have lived so many lives
Though I'm not old
And the more I see, the less I grow
The fewer the seeds, the more I sow
And then I see you standing there, wanting more from me
And all I can do is try

"Try" – Nelly Furtado

Calleigh sat on the floor of her darkened living room, hugging her knees to her chest, and staring blankly ahead of her. She heard her telephone ring from a distance, and blinked, slowly coming back to herself. Then she crawled over to the phone and unplugged it. Not possessing the strength to return to her previous position, she remained where she was, and leaned against the side of the couch.

She reached for the bottle of scotch she'd found in her kitchen cupboard. Ironically, John had bought it, commenting at the absence of alcohol in her house. Now she was glad that she hadn't thrown it out, glad of a way to numb her pain and dull her senses.

Her cell phone was ringing.

Calleigh frowned, then slowly got up to follow the sound. Her bag was where she had dropped it, just inside the door. She rummaged for the phone and turned it off. On her way back to the living room, it hit her that this was very likely the end of her life here in

Miami. Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.

It was too late for tears now. What was done, was done.

Still, she wished she could redo this day. Maybe . . . maybe . . .

No, no maybes. She'd had a gun to her head, had witnessed her ex-boyfriend kill himself, had . . .

IA had suggested she see a counselor. She remembered the look on Rick's face as she told him what he could do with his counselor. He'd smiled weakly and said that was the shock speaking.

Calleigh didn't care. A piece of her had died right alongside John Hagen today; the part that was so central to who she was. Calleigh's spark, her love for her job, her innate optimism, was gone. Maybe it had been slowly diminishing, and today was the final push over the edge. She wasn't in the mood to analyze herself. All she knew for certain was that she needed to get as far away from Miami as she could.

If there was one thing Calleigh Duquesne was good at, it was running away.

There was a knock at the door. Calleigh closed her eyes, hoping whoever it was would go away.

Actually, she had a pretty good idea who it was and knew he'd wait all night if he had to. But he hadn't been there for her earlier, and she was too damn stubborn to let him in now.

"Calleigh!"

She frowned; she'd guessed correctly. After a moment of internal debating, she stood and made her way to the door. Taking a breath to steady herself, she unlocked the door and opened it.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Horatio Caine, Miami's savior."

He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head as he studied her the way he would usually look at a suspect. "You're drunk."

Her lips formed an "O" as she feigned surprise. "You're better than I thought. Five seconds, and the mystery is solved."

"May I come in?"

"Do what you want." She left the door open and turned back to the living room. He followed, as she had known he would.

"You're not a nice drunk."

"Most people aren't. I guess it's genetic." She picked up the bottle of scotch and brought it to her lips. Horatio stopped her arm and took the bottle away.

"I think you've had enough."

"Don't you dare lecture me, Horatio!" She jerked her arm free of his grasp, stumbling backwards and landing on the couch. "Don't think you can come here and be all . . . all . . ."

Her alcohol-fogged mind couldn't find the word she was looking for. Frustrated, she grabbed the nearest cushion and threw it at Horatio.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Her mouth twisted downwards and her voice was oddly childlike as she said, "Sorry doesn't fix it."

"I don't want you to leave."

Calleigh stared up at him in disbelief. "You don't want me to leave. What about what I want, Horatio? Why must it always be about you?"

"Calleigh—"

"I needed you today and you weren't there for me. You weren't there." Calleigh may have been a mean drunk, but she was an honest one too, especially now that she had nothing left to lose. "You are always there for everybody but me."

Horatio said nothing.

"You want to know what I think? I think you're too damn scared to let me in, and if you're there for me then you have to let me in. Well, screw you, Horatio Caine. I don't need you either."

Horatio sat next to her. He reached for her, but she slapped his hand away. "I'm here now, Cal."

She smiled, but it lacked warmth. "But I'm not. It's too late, Horatio. You had your chance – every day for four years, you had your chance – but you missed out. You lose, Horatio."

They sat in silence for a while. Calleigh kept stealing glances at Horatio, wondering what would happen next.

He cleared his throat. "You're right. I should have been there for you today. Maybe I am afraid, but it's the thought of losing you that scares me. Letting you in – loving you – that's not scary at all, Cal. How could I be scared of that?"

Calleigh shook her head. "Don't say what you don't mean—"

"I thought I'd lost you today. I thought he was going to kill you, and I didn't know how to deal with that. Everything just happened all at once – you, Ray, Wolfe. I'm sorry, Calleigh."

She looked at him – really looked at him – and noticed how exhausted he was. She also saw the hope his eyes held, and felt something twist inside her. She wanted to tell him she forgave him, but couldn't bring herself to say the words.

Instead, she said, "You think your pretty words are going to make me come back to CSI?"

She heard the hurt in his voice. "This isn't about CSI. This is about you and me."

"Please go."

"No." He shifted closer to her. "I'm going to fight for you, Cal. This isn't you; you're hurt and scared and in shock, and you're drunk—"

"I'm fine."

"—and I am going to be here for you, today and every day."

She stood, angrily putting her hands on her hips. "You don't have that right!"

"Of course I do, I'm in love with you."

"John thought he was in love with me too."

Horatio visibly flinched at her words. "Point taken."

Calleigh sank back down, hanging her head in defeat. A moment later, she felt Horatio's hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry we keep hurting each other."

The numbness brought on by the alcohol had worn off, and Calleigh leaned into Horatio's embrace. "I thought I was going to die."

"But you didn't."

"Didn't I? I don't even recognize myself anymore. When did I become like this?"

Horatio sighed and held her a little bit closer. "I think it started when Janet died. I've watched you bury a little of yourself each day since then. And when Speed—" He choked on the name. "When Speed died, your light, your spark, faded a bit more with every day that passed. Do you have any idea how much I miss your spark? You reminded me why I do this job."

"Maybe we'll get things right in our next lifetime."

"No, there is no other lifetime. All we have is this one."

Calleigh pulled away from him. "It should be easy to say yes to you, but it isn't."

"I understand."

"I'm going to New Orleans. Give me the summer, Horatio."

He smiled. "I can put your resignation on hold?"

"For now. I'm not making any promises, you know."

"I know." He extended his hand. "You have the summer to decide."

She took his hand and shook it. "You'd better call."

"You know I will."

Calleigh smiled, still holding his hand. "I'm glad you came over."

"Are you kicking me out again?"

She laughed, and this time it wasn't forced. She had the summer ahead of her to rediscover what she'd lost. After that, who knew what would happen? She felt the first stirrings of hope in her heart, and laughed again.