Title: The Right of Every American

Rating: Hmmm. Hard to take it seriously enough to rate it. PG-13, just to be safe on the ending, I guess. I really rate it L for lunacy.

Disclaimer: CSIM isn't mine, nor are the characters, but I'll take Horatio off their hands any day. One small line is sort of borrowed from the movie Young Frankenstein, although I recast it. Thanks for the three suggestions on naming the poison, all of which suggested the same word.

Pairing: H/C

A/N: This was conceived while standing in line for 20 minutes today waiting to vote. All remarks by voters heard in the opening scene were actually heard by me and are verbatim. Also, I have never lived or voted in California, but the comments on attitudes about voting in California are from a first-hand source.

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The ponderous human snake wound through the door of the polling site and to the check-in. In the unhurried space beyond, the booths were filled with voters, only the legs showing beneath the privacy curtains. The click of punch cards being stabbed gave a low background to the voices. One booth sprouted four legs instead of two, and a running commentary emerged from that one, the voices of a resigned old man and an opinionated old woman.

"Now, mother, who should I vote for here?"

"Right there, second down. We wouldn't vote for that other one if we were paid to. I tell you, I don't know what things are coming to when people like that can run for . . . "

"What about this one, mother? How do I vote here?"

"We're voting yes on that. This money from this will . . . "

Most of those in line tuned them out. One child danced an impatient circle. "Why don't you go ahead, since we're here? How much longer will this take?"

A resigned poll judge was speaking patiently to a man who had finally advanced to the head of the line. "No, I'm sorry, you can't register today. You needed to register several weeks ago."

The click was slightly louder but not much, like an especially vicious stab of the card by a voter determined to avoid hanging chads. Suddenly, a man fell backwards out of one of the booths through the curtain, landing flat on his back and motionless, blank eyes staring up at the ceiling. A voice rose over the line. "Somehow, I don't think I'm going to make it out of here on lunch hour."

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Horatio Caine crouched in classic pose on his heels beside the body, a picture of sleek, sexy elegance. He pulled the sunglasses off for a closer look and paused the requisite two seconds. "What can you tell me, Alexx?"

Alexx, as usual, was on the other side of the body, leaning forward. "There's a wound here in his chest. I think he was shot by some sort of poison dart gun, Horatio."

Horatio arched one eyebrow toward the booth. "Or a poison stylus. He was alone in there, voting."

Alexx decided it was time to address the body. "Poor man. Just doing your civic duty, and look what happened."

Horatio stood and slid the sunglasses back on in his inimitable style. "He did his civic duty. Now, it's our turn." The team looked at him, impressed at the line. Nothing happened. The faintest crease of annoyance wrinkled across Horatio's forehead. He cleared his throat and repeated it, slightly louder. "I said, he did his civic duty. Now, it's our turn."

And in the background came the assenting scream of the Who.

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Speed came across to the body from the exit table, holding an "I voted" sticker. "Here, H. He earned it. He finished his ballot."

Horatio nodded and solemnly applied the sticker to the left lapel, carefully not disturbing the area of the wound. Speed focused again and snapped. When in doubt, take a picture. Since Speed was often in doubt, he went through a lot of film. Fortunately, he didn't have to buy it himself.

Calleigh popped out of the voting booth with her usual vibrant enthusiasm. "Horatio!" she sang, giving it her usual lilt. She never said anyone else's name like that. He gave her the smile he never smiled for anyone else, but the channels of communication, while open, weren't progressing, as usual. The faintest pout appeared on Calleigh's lip.

"What do you have for me?" he replied silkily.

As much as you can handle. It's your choice, she thought. If he heard her thoughts, he did not reply. "I've found a projectile device in the stylus. It was made to throw a poisoned dart back toward the voter. There's a remote control under the desk."

Horatio's eyes approved her information – and more. "Nice work, Calleigh. Are all the booths rigged, or just this one?"

"Easy enough to find out," Calleigh said decisively. The booth in question was in the middle of the row, and she started for an adjacent one, then stopped. "Speed? Check the other booths on that side. We're looking for styluses rigged to be poison guns, with remote controls underneath."

Glad to have something to do, Speed started processing the booths on the other side. Eric, meanwhile, had recovered the poisoned dart from the floor. He ran it through the field test, one of several handy high-tech gadgets the CSIs had, capable of identifying hundreds of poisons and drugs. He dipped the dart into the crystals and shook the baggie. The crystals immediately formed a skull and crossbones. "H, I've got the poison. It's muerte."

The word chilled the atmosphere for a dramatic second and a half. Muerte. Death. Poison of choice for the underworld, instantly fatal.

Calleigh emerged from the final booth. "All clear in the others. Speed, what about you?"

Speed, a much more ponderous worker, though thorough, was only halfway down his line. "Nothing yet, Calleigh."

Eric frowned. "How would the killer know he would go to that booth? Unless it was random."

Horatio shook his head. "Not with muerte. This was intentional." He stood for better effect. "If murder has reached into our voting stations, no one is safe." The team fanned out around him and began humming America the Beautiful, with Speed slightly off pitch but giving it his best. Horatio glanced around them and continued. "It is the right of every American to be able to cast a ballot without any coercion, without any fear, and certainly without getting killed for it." He surveyed them, then settled on Calleigh, moving his hand slightly in a "cut" motion as soon as the CSIs finished their current verse. The humming instantly stopped. "Calleigh, you're with me. Let's talk to the people who were checking in the voters. Speed, Eric, talk to the ones who were in line. Alexx, talk to the body. And everyone, keep me posted."

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Horatio and Calleigh stood side by side, their body language open to each other as always, Horatio still hanging back slightly, as always. Calleigh sighed and turned her full charm to the woman they were questioning. "So he actually let several people go in front of him?"

The worker nodded. "He specifically wanted that booth."

"And you didn't think that was odd?" Horatio asked.

She gave him a jaded look. "Mr. Caine, I used to live in California. You wouldn't believe the crazy rituals people have out there for voting. For anything, really. Florida isn't even close, hanging chads or not. Wanting a special booth hardly struck me as odd at all."

Calleigh was impressed. "You worked polls in California?"

"15 years," she said proudly.

Horatio rewarded her with 2 ½ seconds of warm, blue-eyed magnetism. "Congratulations," he said sincerely. He looked up, then came alert, the classic Horatio-seeing-what-others-have-missed look. Calleigh prepared to be impressed. With him, it didn't require much preparation. "Look up there, Cal. In that corner."

She saw it instantly, now that he had pointed it out. "A camera."

"Yes. That's how our perp knew when the right man was in the booth."

"Why do you suppose he went to that one booth?"

"When we solve the case, we'll know," Horatio replied. "For now, why don't I elevate you?"

Calleigh nearly choked. Was she finally making progress? "What?"

His amused eyes twinkled mischievously at her reaction. "I think you could reach that camera standing on my shoulders."

Calleigh instantly went over to the wall. "What are we waiting for, Handsome?" Her eyes met his. Again, he accepted the meaning before he deliberately misunderstood. He came to stand by her. "Here, let me bend down."

"Not necessary, Handsome. I've climbed plenty of trees back in Darnell as a kid. I can be on top of you in no time." She soon was, effortlessly standing on his shoulders. His hands securely and warmly enfolded her feet, steadying her needlessly. Her balance was perfect, but she didn't object. Her skillful hands detached the small camera from the wall. "It's got a serial code, Horatio."

He stroked a foot approvingly. "Nice work. Let's get back to CSI. Are you coming down?"

The thought of staying there until he came to his senses and really noticed her was appealing, but eyeing the top of the door frame, she realized that there were practical difficulties. There always were. With a sigh, she executed a neat back flip, landing on her feet, like a cheerleader leaping off a human pyramid. "Sure, Horatio. I'm down. Let's go."

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Speed studied the computer, silently wishing that Horatio would either do the search himself or stop hovering just past his shoulder. "There it is. Name and address of the purchaser of this wireless camera. And guess what? The company also sell remote control poison dart systems."

"Nice work," Horatio said. "You and Eric stay here and banter. Calleigh and I will take him down."

(Scene Divider)

The perp stared at them in disbelief across the interrogation room table. "How did you find me?"

"You forgot your camera."

"I didn't think anyone would spot it."

"You underestimated Horatio, then," Calleigh said proudly. "He sees everything."

"What I still haven't worked out, although I'm sure the evidence will tell us, is why he went to that specific booth? And what was the motive?" Horatio's velvet voice was patient. He always liked to tie up all loose ends before the cuffs snapped on.

"A mob leader put a hit out on him, but he got wise. Personal bodyguard, protection dogs at the house, never gave me a chance. But he always voted, so I knew I could get him there alone. About the booth, the middle booth was his lucky one."

Calleigh nodded in dawning understanding. "He used to live in California, didn't he?"

"Yes."

Horatio nodded toward the guard. "That about wraps it up, I think."

"One more thing," the perp said. He nodded toward his gaping shirt, where a button had neatly been shot off without so much as touching his skin. "Lady, you're the best shot I've ever seen in my life."

Calleigh eyed him coolly. "Given your acquaintance, I'm not sure how much of a compliment that is, but thank you."

Horatio gave the perp an icy smile. "Next time, when the Miami-Dade PD tell you to stop, you should listen." The guard exited with the perp in tow, and Horatio turned to Calleigh. "You're also the best shot I've ever seen in my life. And my acquaintance is more extensive."

Calleigh smiled at him, not at all coolly. "Thank you, Horatio."

"Well, I think all the loose ends are tied up now." He started for the door, and Calleigh stopped him with a word.

"No."

He turned, puzzled. "No?"

"There's one loose end that's not tied up yet, but we're about to settle that." Firmly taking possession of his elbow, she steered him toward the elevator. "Come on, Handsome." Music wafted down the hall along with them. Alexx, as always, had seen everything. As they left, she was humming the climactic theme from the "Romeo and Juliet Fantasy Overture" by Tchaikovsky.

(Scene Divider)

The Hummer pulled up to the polling station, and Calleigh and Horatio ducked beneath the crime scene tape. The place was abandoned, all voters having been sent to vote at another location while the investigation was completed. Calleigh opened the door, steered Horatio through, then stopped in the middle of the room, spinning him to face her.

"Calleigh, what's going on?" He still hadn't quite gotten it. The best of men could be dense at times, she thought.

"All right, Horatio Caine, I'm going to hold you to your word. You said this morning that it was the right of every American to cast a ballot. So I'm voting, Horatio. For two years, we've done this UST dance. To hell with it. Today is the election. If you aren't running for office yourself, I'll make you a write'in candidate. So what do you think of that, Handsome?"

He stared at her, stunned. "You wanted it, too?"

The best of men could be really dense at times, she thought. "What did you think my feelings were? Every smile, every look, every exchange, I gave it back to you with interest. Of course I wanted it. But you never went further than that. Never."

Reassurance gradually worked through him. She waited with a slightly martyred expression until his eyes finally absorbed her full meaning. Then, she took him by the elbow, gesturing toward the voting booths. "Come on, Horatio. It's election day. I need to mark my ballot."

He eyed the tiny, flimsy, curtained enclosure. "Um, Cal, I don't think we'll possibly manage to stay in that."

She smiled at him. "It doesn't matter, Horatio. See the voter's bill of rights, here on the wall. It guarantees everyone the right to vote in privacy. We even have crime scene tape up outside. No one will disturb us."

All hesitations past, he reached for her. "Calleigh, this is a wonderful country."

The victory was a landslide.