Thanks: To my wonderful beta: Irony882. A very talented writer and wonderful friend who is always willing to help me out. Granted, I can't see her rolling her eyes from over here.
Dedication: Once again to LemonGreen and to Jen for her birthday!! Hope you had a wonderful day!
I drive to work feeling more like crap than ever. I think I got about 3 hours sleep last night and even then I was dreaming about them together. I switch on the radio, hoping to distract myself from my pathetic thoughts. The song filters though me, 'Sick Cycle Carousel' by Lifehouse, a song I have listened to countless times. A song I have always loved. 'So when will this end. It goes on and on'. The words make me cringe inwardly, their truth touching me in a way no song has before. 'Sick cycle carousel. This is a sick cycle yeah.' Yeah, it was damn sick. The games we played, the tight little dance, one step forward, two steps back. A cycle I was sick of riding.
Looking back, I think I rudely ignored each and every person who said good morning to me on my way to the break room. Highly inconsiderate. It wasn't their fault. I make a mental note to apologize to them. When Horatio gives me my case, I see the concerned look he shoots me; I must look awful because normally H doesn't notice.
Obviously trying to make me feel better, he pairs me with Calleigh; we usually work well and we always get along. Now though, now it's just going to be awkward.
I know what you're thinking; nothing happened. However, that's the thing with me and Calleigh: nothing needs to happen, and something has happened. One look or a slight touch says so much for us. It's the littlest things. Still, I set off, insisting to myself that this day would be fine. That I would get to the scene, I would take one room, Calleigh would take another, we'd collaborate on the evidence front then disappear off to la-la land. No problems.
Naturally, things were going to be a little different.
"Hey," I murmur softly as I spot Calleigh, already crouched down looking at a bullet hole. I'd arrived at the apartment only 15 minutes after leaving the lab, my sirens getting me through the traffic. She glances up and shoots me a small smile before returning her attention to the projectile. She looks tired, eyes swollen as though she had cried. I decide it is in my best interests not to point that out. So I try a different road, "What have we got?"
"Richard McCarran, 24, from Oconomowoc, Wisconsin. He'd only been here a week," she replies, casting her eyes towards the body bag Alexx is standing by. "Shot twice. First punctured his left lung, resting in his spinal cord. The second, a through and through. Went through his abdomen, landed here." She finally wrestles the lump of metal out of its hiding place. How she ever identifies weapons from blobs like that is beyond me.
"Poor guy. Next of kin?" I ask, thinking I should notify them.
"His son's being checked out. Frank's on the mother. You could help with DNA collections. There's a lot of blood here, it may not all be his."
"Yeah, okay," I agree, noticing she hasn't looked me in the eye since my arrival. Something is definitely wrong. I'd scared her last night. I'd pushed too far and now she was retreating.
As I leave the room, I notice a little boy talking to an EMT. I say talking, but the technician looked highly confused. I abandon my search of blood and walk over to the young child, wondering how he was coping after the trauma of his father's death.
"Hey, is he alright?" I ask the EMT, deciding it was best to make sure he was OK physically before asking him anything. I receive only a nod from the paramedic, who seems curiously pleased to be leaving the child with someone else. Maybe he isn't a 'kid person'. Personally, I love kids, but it is normally H who gets to handle them.
"How you holding up?" I ask the boy; he looks around four or five. He gives no answer, just continues playing with the toy pig he's clutching close to his heart.
"What's your name?" I try, hoping to get some sort of response.
"William," he squeaks and it's obvious he's been crying. My heart squeezes involuntarily. "This is Piggly Wig." He held up the toy pig and I was suddenly confused at the name.
"You mean Wiggly Pig?" I correct and he nods his brown head softly, after looking confused for only a second.
"Yeah, 'coz he wiggles." William demonstrates by shaking the toy, allowing me to see the pig's head wiggle. "My daddy gave him to me."
"Then he must be very precious. You keep him safe," I find my voice lowers, trying to soothe the boy as much as possible. It pains me to think of the heartache such young children have to go though.
William nods, looking up to me with big blue eyes and a small, shy smile. I want to say something supportive, but I don't know what will help. I don't have much time to consider it because social services want to take him. So I settle for a gentle pat on the shoulders only realizing after that it was such an 'adult' thing to do. That poor child will have to grow up so fast.
No one should have to lose their innocence that way.
How dare he be so nice to me? He'd crossed a line last night; oh, the questions I got of Jake. I suppose it is partly my fault. I mean, I wasn't pushing him away or anything and it did feel nice to spend time with him again. But I have a boyfriend; well, I'm supposed to have a boyfriend. I don't know what I'm thinking. Truthfully, I don't know why I'm being so snippy with Eric; I'm not too sure why I'm mad at him.
Everything is just too confusing. I have to get out. I wander to Eric though, finding him waving goodbye to a small boy before returning to his kit. He sends me a nervous smile before picking up a swab.
I ignore his attempt, knowing I'm acting like a bitch. "I'm gonna take these samples back to the lab. I need to run test fires. I'll take what evidence you have now and you can catch up with me later." I did not even wait to hear his approval; I simply gathered my things and left, well aware I left a confused and angry man in my wake.
Back at the lab, I set out my evidence, separating the ballistic from the hair and fiber and the DNA from the trace. I grab the DNA and head off to find Valera. I could use a giggle; I just hope she's not in gossip mode.
"Just look!"
"No, I've told you countless time that - "
"Guys?" I ask, causing both Ryan and Valera to turn and face me. I give a questioning look and Ryan simply wafted his hand in the air with raised eyebrows and turns away. I focus my attention on Valera.
"I was just showing Ryan the new pearl necklace Dave bought me," Valera says, looking a little ashamed to have been caught not working, even if it is me.
I crane my neck and step a little closer to get a better look. A row of striking pearls stand out against her pale skin; they look very expensive. "Val, they're beautiful."
Ryan slams his hand down on the table, making me jump. "And how many times have I told you it's bad luck for someone else to buy you pearls? I bet Dick didn't think of that, did he?"
"It's Dave," Valera counter-argued, a bitter tone to her voice, "and when was the last time you had a girlfriend you could buy jewelry for?"
"Well, I certainly didn't buy her pearls! Didn't he think of giving you the money so you could get them yourself?"
"Then technically he would still be buying them…"
"Why did Dan - "
"Dave!"
"Guys!" I finally cut in, handing a steaming Valera my samples, "I need this analyzed and I think you should head off to the scene; Eric could use a hand."
Ryan rolls his eyes at Valera before obeying my order and leaving in search of Eric.
"That man…" Valera fumes angrily, opening the sealed packets and studying the contents. "So, what's up with Eric?"
What? Okay, that caught me off guard. "What about Eric?" I ask, my voice a touch higher than normal.
"He seems pissed." She continues working as though it is perfectly normal to be asking me these questions. Well, I suppose it is.
"And what makes you think I'd know what's wrong with him?" I ask haughtily. I hate it when she's in her intuitive mood; nothing gets past her.
"Cal, you always know. You can read him like a book," she states, little tone to her voice as she snips off the ends of the swabs.
"I…well…" I want to disagree, but she's right. I always know when something is wrong with Eric.
I watch as she adds the fluids and places each tube into the amplifier. She is too engrossed in her work to notice my stammer. I tell her I have evidence to attend to.
It's not quite a lie.
I notice Eric's arrival immediately. I tense and an odd cringing sensation grips my stomach. He mumbles a 'hello' and gets right to work. I simply ignore him, not sure how I should handle my growing anxiety. A few moments of my silence are all it takes before he erupts.
"What the hell have I done wrong?" His voice is tense but I can tell his anger is directed more at himself then me. I shoot him a questioning look.
"To you, Calleigh? I've clearly done something to upset you and I want to know what it is." His eyes are back on mine, voice an octave lower as he fights to maintain his control. His anger is evident but the worry and fear burns deep beneath the surface.
"Eric - " I start, only to be cut off by his voice. It terrifies me that he sounds close to tears.
"What have I done, Calleigh? If I ruined … or if I… upset… I'm sorry… I," He speaks softly, all energy gone as he gives up on his speech. He lowers his head, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.
My response is innate and I am around the table, hands reaching for his before I even have time to process it. My voice is merely above a whisper as I try to support him, "No, Eric. You haven't done anything. I'm just… in a strange mood, that's all. I'll be fine tomorrow."
I see his flinch at that. He hates it when I say 'I'm fine'. His smile returns suddenly, but he doesn't fool me; I sense the concern coming off him in waves as he pulls me into a tight hug. Normally, I wouldn't allow such a display at work but the fact that I am in a windowless office and I'm with Eric calms me slightly, so I snuggle further into his embrace, intent on making all his hurt go away. It wasn't his fault I was in a snippy mood. It wasn't his fault I was fighting with Jake. Not directly.
I wrap my arms around him, resting my hands on his hips and pressing my face to his chest. I am surprised how much I enjoy this contact, but it disconcerts me when I hear a soft moan. I pull back in alarm, glancing up to see his eyes closed and his top lip pulled beneath his teeth. I should be scared, I should be telling him he's out of order for acting like that around his friend, but someone else seems to have taken over my hands because I'm reaching up to wrestle his lip out with my thumb.
His eyes shoot open, wide with the shock of my actions. They lock with mine, and my world stops.
Black, deep, dilated pupils stare back at me and suddenly I get lost in them, blinking slowly as though clearing a fog. The moment my fingers left his lip, grazing it slightly before traveling across his jaw to rest on the back of his neck, a low, deep groan surfaces from the back of his throat.
And suddenly I'm lost, lost in these feelings. A daze of euphoria in which I have no concept of reality. It's just him and me. His eyes close once again, opening to rest on mine. He moves slowly, painfully slowly, eyes flickering to my lips to warn me of his intentions. To give me a chance to push him away. And I should, I should push him away because I can't cross that line in the sand. I have to cement it down and re-draw it over and over as each and every time, it blows away.
I can't seem to fight, can't seem to tell him no. His lips move against mine in a silent prayer, not quite demanding, but forceful enough to let me know it won't be enough. Plump lips massage my own, encouraging me onwards in this desperate battle of desire. He wants me to want it, he doesn't want to force me, and suddenly, all rational thoughts go out of the widow as his tongue gently trails along my lip.
I can't take it. Pressing my mouth furiously against his, I step closer, my hand around his neck pulling him down. I stand up on my tiptoes, moving closer to him. Angling my head for the tightest embrace, I elicit a moan, which I soon realize comes from me, as I urge him to respond to my violent intrusion.
And suddenly, he springs to life. Pushing me hard against the wall as one hand reaches to grip my wrists, preventing me from touching him. His body presses against mine until we are fused, from knees to mouth, my hands above my head where he holds them fixed. I moan again at this loss of control and whimper slightly as his free hand grazes my hip.
The slight pain in my shoulders jerks me back to reality. God, we're in the lab. We're at work. Words jumble though my mind as my brain furiously tries to make sense of them. Work. Lab. Eric. Jake. Lab. Eric. Work. Jake. Stop!
I yank my hands free, pushing hard against his chest until he steps back, panting hard. He stares me in the eyes, seeing the fear and anger I know will be present. He opens his mouth to speak but I shake my head, more to myself than to him, yet he closes his mouth anyway.
I feel tears filling my eyes, the embarrassment and shame at my loss of control overwhelms me and I nearly run towards the exit. I have to get away from him. How the hell could I do something so stupid? I ignore his calls and pleas for me to return. I can't look at him again.
I walk into the bathroom, and let the silent tears fall.
E/N:
OK, LemonGreen gave me the elements:
1. 'Sick Cycle Carousel' by Lifehouse - check
2. Oconomowoc, Wisconsin - check
3. A spoonerism - check
4. Eric interacting with a child - check
5. Pearls - check
As for you fine people: I like reviews. And I like you if I get reviews. And If I like you, I update :) Hehe.