Sorry this took so long, my muse is very fickle and I don't lead her, she leads me to the stories. I say her because I can't imagine that anything but a living creature could be as crazy as she is, and because I can't imagine having a guy reading my thoughts. Now that would be embarrassing.

(If you think that the chapter title doesn't make sense, don't worry, just read, it will soon)

Chapter 3: Not Mark

[*]

"What happened, Rebecca?" Calleigh sounded like she wasn't sure whether to be serious or teasing. She forced her friend to sit on a stool at one of the club's bars. "Why did Nate try to mow you down?"

"He was probably jealous," Becca mumbled while waving the bartender over. "Can I have a margarita, please? She asked, putting her bill in the glass situated on the bar for that purpose.

"You're the designated driver!" Calleigh objected. "And why would Nate be jealous?"

"I can have one margarita and I'll be fine to drive, I just need something to settle my nerves because Tim tried to kiss me and I wanted him to, but the Nate ran into us and it cleared my head and now I don't know what to think, Calleigh!"

By the end of her speech Becca's angry tone had turned into a near sob and a tear trickled down her cheek as she took a soothing sip of her drink. Calleigh sat on the stool next to Becca and rubbed her arm reassuringly as Becca took a deep breath and wiped off the tear.

"I like him, I do, but he's just like…" Becca trailed off and took a longer sip of her margarita, this time not wiping off the wet lines that were trailing down her face.

Calleigh sighed quietly. She recognized the look on her friend's face. Becca was remembering the events that had caused her sudden transfer from the Chicago crime lab to the Miami-Dade lab. Even though it had been almost four months, Calleigh knew from experience that a bad break-up could take a long time to heal, and what had happened to Becca… Calleigh recalled vividly that day just over two months ago when she'd found the red-haired CSI in the break room and heard her story.

[*]

Two months previously

Three weeks into Becca's new job at the Miami-Dade Crime Lab was when she collapsed. It wasn't just the song, but the song was just the latest in a long line and it was the last straw. All week she had been called and emailed incessantly by her friends and Mark's friends, her old boss at the Chicago crime lab, the owners of the soup kitchen she volunteered at whenever the tough shifts at the lab would allow her and her former colleagues, but most importantly there had been nothing from Mark. Still no emails or calls, although her cell number was the same, no messages from him through Becca's good friend Bri and most certainly no apology. At this point Becca had given up hope of an apology.

That night, Becca had managed two hours of sleep between her dreams of catching her fiancé and that woman in her bed, in her apartment. Their apartment. The one she and Mark had bought together, with her small income from the crime lab and his slightly larger detective's salary. Remembering the look on his face when he'd seen her, then the faces of Mark's colleagues when they saw her and believed whatever rumors he had spread about how he had called off the wedding, how she was the one cheating. None of his friends, the other detectives, would ever believe her if she'd told them he was sleeping with one of the people he was supposed to protect. Then this morning she'd heard that song on the way to work, and she'd held it together until she sat hard against the wall of the break room and cried.

She was so intent on her memories that she didn't even realize there was another person in the room with her until Calleigh was already sitting against the wall next to her. The older of the two CSIs had already wrapped her arms around Becca's shoulders and begun making soothing noises, just like she would with a child.

Calleigh waited until Becca's crying slowed before asking. "What's the problem, sweetie? You all right?" She smiled comfortingly. She smoothed the other woman's bright hair down her back.

Becca was only a year or two younger than Calleigh, and the blonde CSI had already begun to feel like a big sister. And, like a big sister, she just wanted to make this woman in front of her feel better.

"I'm okay," Becca whispered. She took some deep breaths, and sat back against the wall. Calleigh kept one arm around her friend's shoulders, and waited patiently.

Becca breathed. "I'm sorry about this," she began. "It's just… A lot of stuff's still going through my head from Illinois, and I don't really…" She sniffled again, and Calleigh interrupted her gently.

"Tell me what's goin' on, sweetheart," she murmured, tucking some of Becca's hair behind one of her ears.

"A lot of people from Chicago have been calling me. I guess my friend Bri gave somebody my new home number, and now the phone's been ringing all the time." She breathed, trying to stay calm and not start crying again. "They all want to know why I transferred so suddenly."

Calleigh didn't say anything, but she had been wondering that herself. Becca's transfer had been a huge surprise, with no warning from Horatio. Calleigh and Eric had both asked their supervisor about the new arrival, and had both gotten the same answer: 'There were some personnel issues at the Chicago lab and they needed to reorganize their staff.' Both CSIs had known there was more to the story, but Horatio had refused to say anything more.

"Some of them are mad at me for not talking to them, and some of them know-" she cut off and sobbed again. Calleigh ran her hand over Becca's hair and let the other woman cry into her shoulder. 'It was always better to get the tears out' Calleigh's father always said. After a few moments, Becca's tears petered out.

"What happened, Rebecca?" Calleigh asked softly. "You'll feel better if you let it out."

Becca stayed silent for a minute. She didn't want her new friend to know how terribly she'd messed up, how stupid she'd been to trust Mark. She didn't want anyone to know how embarrassed she was that she hadn't seen what was going on. And most of all she didn't want anyone to know how badly she'd been hurt, because seeming weak, relying on another person, was almost as bad in the Chicago police department as letting a perp get the better of you: you'd never live it down.

In Chicago, she'd barely spoken to her colleagues outside of the cases they worked and the evidence. The only time she talked to her superior was when he handed out cases or when she got chewed out for spending too much energy on a particular bit of evidence. Bri had been her only friend she saw in her profession, and as a defense lawyer their paths hadn't crossed much. With only two CSIs and four lab techs per shift the caseload was always overwhelming. Evidence was to be processed as fast as possible, not as thoroughly as possible.

But this lab was different. Her colleagues were easygoing, easy to talk to and, like Calleigh, had quickly become her friends. Becca was still getting used to Horatio, but he supported her and listened to her input. She already knew all the lab techs by name and there were always enough people to cover a shift. Becca was able to work each case until it was closed or went cold, and she was encouraged to focus on a particular piece of evidence until she was satisfied she had found everything she could.

Maybe this lab wasn't going to be like Chicago. Maybe if she told Calleigh the truth, the New Orleans native wouldn't tell every other person in the lab. Maybe she could tell one other person the whole story. Bri tried to be supportive, but maybe having someone who knew the truth and lived in the same state would be a good thing.

Becca told Calleigh the whole story.

"When I lived in Chicago I was engaged to a detective," she began hesitantly. "His name was Mark McAllister, and he worked in Sex Crimes. We met when I was assigned to some of his cases, and we dated for about eight months before he asked me to marry him. We decided on a May wedding, we bought an apartment, and I thought everything was perfect. He was perfect." Becca's green eyes, even brighter than usual from her tears, seemed to plead with Calleigh to understand. Calleigh nodded her encouragement, and Becca continued.

"Everything was going great, until this patrol officer came and said he wanted to talk to me. He was so young, barely out of the academy, and he was so shy. He told me he wasn't sure if there was a procedure for this sort of thing." Becca laughed without humor, staring at the ceiling without seeing it. "He was talking about a rape case I was working, that he was helping out with. The victim had been so afraid when she'd come forward that the chief had authorized the patrol cars in her area to sweep by her apartment every hour. Her name was Melinda Felder." Calleigh noticed how Becca seemed to stutter over the woman's name and take a deep breath before continuing.

"The patrol officer told me that Mark had been going to Melinda's apartment a few times a week, and staying for hours at a time. I told him not to report it, that I'd take care of it. I talked to Mark. I told him I knew what was going on, and he told me that he'd been sleeping with her." Becca turned her head away from Calleigh before choking out the next few sentences. "He said he was just trying to help her through a tough time, that he still loved me and he'd stop. I believed him." Becca fell silent, then surprised Calleigh by slamming her fist into one of her knees, which was tucked up to her chest. "I was stupid! I shouldn't have believed him! We weren't even married and he was already cheating on me!"

Calleigh hugged her friend tighter and clutched Becca's fist to stop her from hitting herself again. "No, Becca, it's not your fault! I've done the same thing!"

Becca looked at the other woman through her hair. "You have?" She asked.

Calleigh laughed quietly. "Of course I have! We all want to believe the best of our boyfriends. Sometimes it doesn't work out, but sometimes it does, and you made a good choice by trying to work through it." She waited a few moments while Becca digested this new point of view, then asked gently "What happened next?"

"It was going fine for a month or so after that. He was treating me like he always had, and the patrol officer didn't come to me again. Everything was fine, and our wedding date was just a few weeks off." Becca hesitated before whispering "Then I caught them." She collapsed into tears again.

Calleigh bit her lip as she pulled the sobbing redhead close. Calleigh had indeed had a few cheating boyfriends in the past, only one of whom she'd actually caught in the act. She remembered the pain and confusion she'd felt, and couldn't imagine how she'd feel if it was her fiancé who had hurt her so badly.

Catching her breath, Becca resumed her story. "I told my friend Bri what happened, I packed up everything I could and I just…" Becca trailed off. "I just came to Miami soon as I could. My parents used to bring me here when I was young, and I just came because it was familiar…"

When the woman fell silent, Calleigh felt like she should say something, but she had no idea what to say. How could she console this poor woman, who'd uprooted her life and moved to a barely known city to escape the man she'd planned on spending the rest of her life with?

Calleigh said the only thing she could think of. "Well, now you're here. And I'm not going to let anything or anybody hurt my friend anymore. So just tell me what I can do to help you. Do you want me to fly up to Chicago and put a beat-down on Mark?" She smiled, only half-joking. She'd grown close to Becca, even though she'd only worked with the younger woman a short time, and hated seeing her new friend in so much pain.

Becca laughed quietly. "No." She sighed. "I just don't know if I can work today. I was okay, and then I heard a song on the way in to work. Mark and I were going to play it at our wedding." She whispered the last bit, shaking with another small sob.

"That's fine," Calleigh told her. "I can talk to Horatio, I'm sure he won't mind if you take a sick day. I can explain this to him and I'm sure he'll-"

"No, he already knows," Becca interrupted. When Calleigh's face showed surprise, she elaborated. "When I first came here, I applied for a job. Horatio said there weren't any positions open, but when I told him what happened, he said he'd try to find a spot for me. He said he could use some of the FBI's grant money to make a new position. He's been really great," she smiled.

"That does sound like Horatio," Calleigh smiled in response. "He's always trying to help someone out."

They sat there for a moment, both thinking about Becca's revelations. Calleigh felt terrible at what the younger woman had gone through, and she was determined to distract Becca with lots of shopping and tours of Miami, the best diversions she knew. She would do all she could to help the usually tough CSI feel better.

Becca discovered that telling another person her story did make her feel much better, as though she was no longer keeping a secret that weighed down her movements. After a few moments, she decided to show Calleigh something else that she'd thought she would never show anyone in her new home.

Becca pulled out her wallet from a pocket in her ever-present pantsuit and opened it with slightly shaking hands. She pulled out a small photograph and handed it to Calleigh wordlessly.

Calleigh inspected the 2.5x3.5 picture. There was a laughing young woman in a pale pink top and a wide, green skirt that was obviously Becca. She was caught in the act of playfully shoving a man in the stomach, and he hugged with his arm around her shoulder. The man chin was level with the top of Becca's head, and his hazel eyes were gazing down at her with what Calleigh identified as love and happiness. He had ruffled, dark hair and a noticeable five o'clock shadow. The man looked a bit familiar to Calleigh, but she couldn't place it.

"Is that Mark?" Calleigh asked quietly, already knowing the answer. Becca nodded slightly, staring at the photo Calleigh was delicately holding. "You two look happy."

Becca reached out and gently took the picture, sliding it back into her wallet. "We were," she whispered as she stood, so quietly that Calleigh barely heard. Becca straightened her rumpled hair and her wrinkled pantsuit, and tried to wipe the tears off her face. She smiled at Calleigh as the firearms expert pulled herself up, then spoke in a more normal voice.

"Thanks for listening to my babble-" Becca waved her hand as if to pass off her story as a simple rant, but Calleigh wouldn't have it. She looked seriously in the redhead's eyes and answered sincerely. "Any time."

Becca took in the sincerity and nodded her thanks. "If you could talk to Horatio, that'd be great," Becca said. She took a deep breath and stood straighter before opening the door to the break room and walking out, leaving it slightly ajar behind her.

Calleigh went to Horatio's office and informed him the Rebecca needed to take a sick day, noticing how he looked at her suspiciously, then accepted the explanation. She looked him in the eye after she delivered the excuse, and he seemed to realize that she knew the whole story now when he said significantly 'Make sure she's feeling better soon.' Calleigh assured him that she would, then left his office and headed back to her firearms lab. It was only when she arrived that the ballistics expert remembered why she'd gone to the break room in the first place. She sighed, and headed back to the area where she'd already spent a large portion of her morning.

Calleigh was just refilling her coffee mug with lukewarm liquid out of the cappuccino machine when the door opened. She turned to see who'd come in, and nearly had to stifle a gasp.

The visitor looked just like the man in Rebecca's photo! Calleigh turned away, her mind spinning with possibilities. Had the detective come to see his run-away fiancé? She put down her coffee cup before she spilled it, then took a second look.

Calleigh nearly sighed with relief when she realized her mistake. It was just Speed. The noticeable resemblance made her blink, but she refocused when he asked her a question.

"Why didn't Becca show up today?"

"Rebecca did come in, but she felt sick and took the day off," Calleigh's smile as she delivered the lie was unconvincing, but Speed didn't notice. He was frowning as he considered her statement.

"I hope she's alright," the usually wry CSI muttered sincerely. Calleigh felt a small rush of sympathy; Speed and Rebecca had become quick friends, and she wasn't surprised he was worried about her.

"She'll be fine," Calleigh reassured. "But I won't be if I don't finish processing all the slugs I found yesterday. Want to help?" She flashed her brightest smile.

Speed sighed, and Calleigh knew the suggestion of work had distracted him sufficiently from his colleague's distress. "No, I have my own evidence to process. I'll see you later," he waved half-heartedly before slouching out of the room.

Calleigh sighed and leaned against the counter, remembering with renewed astonishment the picture Rebecca had shown her just a few minutes earlier. She considered the resemblance between Mark McAllister and Miami's resident trace expert and sighed again as she headed back to her firearms lab. "This can't be good…"

[*]

"He's not Mark."

Becca started in response to Calleigh's words, the exact thing she'd been thinking. She clutched even tighter to the margarita in her hands.

"I know he's not," Becca admitted, "but he looks so much like him. He has the same hair, and he's the same height, and he even sounds the same!"

"He's not Mark," Calleigh repeated.

"I know," Becca sighed. "Tim has dark brown eyes, Mark has hazel."

"That's not what I meant!" Calleigh rolled her eyes. "Speedle would never treat you badly, you know that!" The blonde CSI insisted.

"Yeah, I know," Becca sighed. "I do, it's just… I…" She sighed again into her mostly empty drink. "I just don't know what to think."

Calleigh leaned in close to her friend, to be comforting and to get her point across. "Speed's a great guy, Rebecca. You need to give him a chance."

The redhead stared unblinkingly at the glass in her hands. "You know how Tim calls me 'Becca'?" She asked suddenly.

Calleigh nodded slowly, confused by the sudden change of the subject. "Yes, but no one else does." She eyed her friend curiously.

"Before Tim, Mark was the only one who called me 'Becca'." Becca smiled a bit, still staring at her drink. "I was a bit surprised when Tim started calling me that too, but it helped me. Almost like… like Mark wasn't the only one who I could… be Becca with." She smiled suddenly at Calleigh. "That sounds stupid, huh?"

Calleigh shook her head. "No. That means you're moving on, even just a bit. That's a good thing."

The younger CSI smiled wryly, recognizing her friend's attempt to cheer her up. "Thanks, Calleigh." Then she motioned at the dance floor. "You should go, I'm keeping you from your date."

Calleigh looked around them, making sure she didn't recognize anyone in earshot. "What are you talking about, I'm not here on a date!" She sounded convincing, but her suddenly darting blue eyes wouldn't meet Becca's.

"Go, Calleigh!" Becca laughed at the blonde's shyness. "I'll finish this drink, then catch up with you."

Calleigh relented. Her colleague obviously knew why she was here, she might as well enjoy the spilled secret. Calleigh scanned the club, eyes coming to rest on a particular Cuban who was smiling at her from an adjacent bar. Calleigh grinned. "I'll see you later!" She called to Becca, who was now shaking her head and giggling.

"The night's not over yet!"

[*]

I really don't like this chapter. I never really understood how an author could write something and then not like it, but this thing wrote itself. It's way longer than I though it would be and had way more tears. But I got Becca's story down, so this chapter was worth it.

That was a long chapter! You spent all that time reading that, may as well review now, right? It would make sense to write a small suggestion or critique to make sure the next few thousand words are better.