Here's the conclusion of Fatal Exception. Computers, rest in pieces.

Horatio's eyes fell, seeking the escape that his feet were denied. "I was worried about you," he said softly. "I was afraid a criminal or an attacker was in here when I heard the shot."

Calleigh marched past him to where her front door hung drunkenly from its broken hinges. "Heard it clear from your condo, did you? You've got sharp ears, Horatio, not to mention very impressive response time. 911 should take lessons." She straightened the door, propping it against the frame, and a tentative voice crept down the hall outside.

"Calleigh? Is everything all right?"

Calleigh removed the door enough to slide through it and meet the worried eyes of her next-door neighbor, an elderly woman who clutched her bathrobe around her like a shield as she peered out her own door. "Everything's fine, Heather."

Her neighbor wasn't convinced. "I thought I heard a shot."

"I was just, um, watching a war movie. I must have had the volume too loud. I'm sorry I woke you up."

Heather studied the splintered hinges. "Watching a movie?"

Horatio appeared in the doorway behind Calleigh, and his soothing authority effortlessly accomplished what Calleigh's frustrated embarrassment had not. "I'm sorry we disturbed you, ma'am. I'm Lieutenant Horatio Caine of MDPD; I work with Calleigh. I assure you, everything is under control here." Calleigh wanted to kick him. How could he sound so unruffled at the moment? How could he manage to crash through the door of her life repeatedly, jolt her out of her senses, and then a second later still seem in perfect control of himself?

Heather relaxed with every word, automatically responding to that voice, that presence. Her eyes were on Horatio now, not the splintered hinges. "All right. I'll go back to bed then. I was just worried about Calleigh, but I can see everything's fine."

"I do appreciate your concern," Calleigh said, trying to sound reassuring. "I'm sorry I disturbed you, Heather. We'll try to keep the volume down, but if you happen to hear anything else, just remember that we're watching a war movie."

Heather smiled at Horatio, who smiled back at her. As soon as her door had closed, Calleigh whirled and planted her hand in Horatio's chest, shoving him back into the apartment. She turned to carefully prop the door closed behind them. "You haven't answered my question, Horatio, and you're not leaving until you do." She planted herself firmly in front of the exit.

He studied the hinges apologetically. "I'm sorry, Calleigh. I'll pay to have your door fixed."

She sighed, automatically feeling some of her frustration at him start to drain away and resenting herself for it. Even in the more annoyed letters, she could never stay hardened toward him. "I know you will, Horatio. And thank you, by the way. There could have really been something wrong, and I'll take the intention for the deed." He gave her a tentative smile, and she half returned it before she spoke again. "But what were you doing standing outside my door? It's too late for a social call."

He looked at his watch. "I drove by and saw the lights on in your window. I wondered what still had you up. You should have been asleep hours ago."

"So you came up and were just about to knock to see if something was wrong?" She didn't believe him. He was too rare a liar to be skilled at it. He didn't answer, just looked away again, and she suddenly noticed how tired he looked and, like that afternoon, how vulnerable. "You should have been asleep yourself. You were going to go home and get some rest, you said."

Against his will, his eyes found their way back to hers. "You said the same thing."

"I am home, Horatio," she pointed out.

"But not asleep."

"No." She looked back at the shattered monitor. "I had some work to do on the computer, and I got into the most horrible fight with the thing. I hope it fries in computer hell for eternity. I've been meaning to upgrade, anyway." She looked back to catch an odd smile on his face, the smile of someone who knew two sides to a story she only knew half of. "Horatio, would you stop looking so amused about me shooting my computer and tell me what's going on? What were you doing driving around this late?"

The grin widened. "Actually, I was doing some computer work myself, and my computer was being more obstructive than a defense attorney in court. It kept locking up and telling me that Word didn't exist, and then, it was bringing up the clock to reset, but it wouldn't let me reset it. It kept insisting that it was January 19, 1999, but it had to keep that clock screen in front, no matter what window I clicked. I had to dodge around it to see my document – when it would admit that Word was even there, that is."

Calleigh laughed. That one was a trick her own computer had never tried. "It kept the clock setting screen in your way? If mine had tried that, I would have used larger ammo. I was just fighting that stupid paperclip."

Horatio took a step closer, the tension dissolved between them for the moment. "I hate that paperclip. It reminds me of IAB somehow. Mine doesn't always pull the clock trick, but it was worse than usual tonight." He looked at the corpse of her monitor again and gave a lopsided smile. "I hit the limit tonight, too, Calleigh. Like you said, I've been meaning to upgrade it. That computer had been in the shop more often than on my desk the last few months."

Calleigh stared at him, replaying those words and trying to attach a meaning. "You shot your computer, too?" He shook his head. "Let me guess, you put it in the trash – put it there, didn't throw it – then neatly bagged the trash, including a twist tie, and calmly took it out to the dumpster." Couldn't the man just once totally lose control?

His smile widened. "You're absolutely right, but then, after I threw it away, I got to thinking. There's a lot of personal data on that hard drive." Calleigh's jaw dropped with the thought, and she stared at her own CPU, frozen in horror. She had shot the monitor. The soul of her electronic tormenter still lived. Horatio continued smoothly. "They recommend never just throwing one away. Identity theft is big these days, you know. You've got to be sure to remove all of your personal information so it doesn't fall into the wrong hands. So I took it back out of the trash, and then I ran over it with the Hummer."

Calleigh nearly gave herself whiplash as her head snapped around from her computer to Horatio. Her jaw stayed dropped. His eyes were dancing, enjoying her reaction. As well as she knew him, he never had lost the ability to surprise her. "I don't believe it."

"I can present evidence. One computer pancake, Exhibit A. It's a case that would hold up in any court in the state."

She laughed then, picturing the scene. Horatio behind the wheel of the Hummer, carefully lining up his shot, then flattening the obstinate machine with an expression of frustrated embarrassment and embarrassed frustration on his face as he for once let himself lose control and do what he felt like. Wait a minute. She couldn't imagine Horatio totally knocked out of his charade like that just by electronics. And after destroying the computer, he had driven to her apartment in the middle of the night. Could there be a connection? "What were you writing, Horatio?"

He instantly tightened up and retreated into his shell. "Nothing. Just some paperwork." He glanced at her former monitor. "What were you writing?"

"Just a few letters. Everyday stuff. It was the computer that got me annoyed."

He nodded, but his eyes wouldn't meet hers anymore. "Totally maddening, electronics."

"I'm surprised more people don't shoot them. Or run over them, I guess. More people have access to a car."

He started to edge past her. "I'd better be going, Calleigh. You do need some sleep. We have to continue the electronic war in the morning at CSI."

Defeated, she stepped aside, making the exit available to him. There had been only the briefest moment that she thought she had started to see into his soul, but now, all his defenses were up. Once again, he wasn't responding. She must have imagined it. "Yes, we do. Good night, Horatio."

"Good night, Calleigh." He stepped past her, carefully unpropped the door, exited, then propped it just as carefully from the other side. His footsteps echoed his retreat along the hall until he was totally gone. When the sound of him had faded to silence, Calleigh walked across to her desk and picked up her gun, backing up for a shot at the CPU. Identity theft was big these days, after all. You couldn't be too careful. She lined up her aim, admiring the steadiness of her hand, and blinked a few times as she focused on the target.

Behind her, the door hit the carpet with a loud thud, as if the echo of the gun had grown impatient and decided to precede the shot. Calleigh jumped and barely managed to keep from squeezing the trigger in reflex. She turned around, lowering the gun, and stared at a far-from-composed Horatio.

"I'm being a coward. Forgive me, Calleigh, but I've got to say this, and then I'll leave. I was writing you tonight, like I've written you so many other nights, saying all the things I've been afraid to say for four years. That's why that computer was so frustrating. I smashed it, but the frustration was still there, and I decided to come over here to finally tell you everything in person. Only when I got here, I just stood outside your door like a coward. I couldn't make myself knock, couldn't even touch that door until I thought you needed me." His blue eyes, blazing with a direct passion that stunned her, had been riveted to her face throughout this speech, but now, for the first time, they fell, traveling to the gun in her hand. "I see now that I was wrong. You had everything under control, like you always do. You don't need my help or anyone else's. I'm sorry, Calleigh, and I'll never mention this again. Good night."

He turned to leave, but Calleigh's legs wouldn't obey her. Her voice finally unfroze and managed to reach him only because he had stopped to pick up the door. "I was writing you, Handsome." He stopped in mid step, his back to her, one foot off the ground. "I've written to you for four years. I was up to naming my document Horatio 168." The suspended foot slowly touched down to solid balance. He turned toward her, carefully studying her expression to be sure she was not joking. She smiled at him with all the wattage she could put behind it, all she had been afraid to give him, and he smiled in return, gaining reassurance.

"I was up to Calleigh 215," he countered.

"Bet mine were longer, though," she said, taking a step toward him.

He took a step himself, closing the gap. "I guess we'll never know, will we? Mine is a pancake, and yours is a firing range."

"Which reminds me. Hang on a second, Handsome." She spun smoothly and fired a bullet straight into the CPU, then placed her gun on the floor and turned back to face him. "I hate leaving a job halfway done. Identity theft is big these days, after all. You can't be too careful."

"No, you can't," he agreed, eyes twinkling. "In fact, they say one of the best safeguards you can have is to conduct your transactions face to face. Electronics are so unreliable." He stopped his advance but opened his arms, letting the final step be hers. "I guess we'll have to deliver communications to each other directly from now on. Think we can learn to do that?"

"I've always been a quick study," she replied, closing the gap, and this time, there was no error message.