Chapter 4


As soon as Eric and Calleigh disembarked from the elevator, they ran into Speedle. "Delko—" he began, but Eric held up a hand to stop him.

"Don't start, Tim. I'm not in the mood."

Speed took a step back and sent Calleigh a concerned look. Delko called him Tim? "Whatever you say, man. But just so you know, H isn't happy."

"Yeah, I figured," Eric groused as he made his way up the stairs to the lieutenant's office. Before he left, Cal gave his elbow an encouraging squeeze. Unfortunately, Eric was pretty sure nothing could ease his nerves right now.

When Delko disappeared into Horatio's glass-walled office, Speed turned to Calleigh. "Wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Wanna tell me what people are sayin'?" she quipped in return.

Tim was annoyed with Calleigh's lack of cooperation. "Well, for starters, Eric assaulted a man who was already restrained. Then he 'entered into a physical altercation' with H and went AWOL."

"Then you've got it right, Speedle," she responded angrily.

"Whoa, Cal! I've got Delko's back, you know that." Why was she so defensive?

"But?" Calleigh said, narrowing her eyes a bit.

"But… you and I both know he's walked a fine line this week."

"He has his reasons, Tim," she murmured. "Do me a favor, alright? Quell the rumors?"

Speed didn't ask questions. He, Eric, and Calleigh were often called the Three Musketeers around the lab, but he was also used to the fact that his two closest friends shared a special bond all their own.

"I'm on it," he nodded and walked away.

Calleigh watched him leave, then glanced up to Horatio's office. She didn't need to be in the room to see that Horatio Caine had lost his legendary cool. The man got angry like anybody else, but he never let it show. Except on those rare occasions…

Apparently this was one of those. His eyes were shooting daggers—compassionate daggers, if that was possible—and she could see through the glass that he was clenching his jaw, trying his best not to ream Eric a new one. The thing about Horatio—he didn't have to yell and scream to get his point across. Disappointment and a stern lecture usually served the same purpose. But tonight even Calleigh could tell that H had left his usual calm behind; she could hear the muffled sounds of his raised voice from one-story below.

Delko descended the stairs from Horatio's office fifteen minutes later. Calleigh instantly noticed the frustration rolling off of him in waves, the tension in his back and shoulders. "Eric?"

She'd been sitting on a bench across the hall. Eric appreciated the gesture. "I'm facing an inquiry from IAB, and H is issuing an official letter of reprimand."

Cal shut her eyes and sighed. "Oh, yeah. And I'm suspended for three weeks wthout pay."

"What?" Calleigh gasped, her eyes flying open in surprise. "Are you serious?"

"Why would I joke about that, Cal?" Eric answered angrily, immediately feeling regret. "Ugh. I'm sorry."

"You have a right to be mad, Eric!" she breathed, incensed. "Three weeks? The IA investigation will only take a few days!"

"I'm not gonna fight it. I just want to get out of here."

Calleigh watched her best friend toss his hands in the air in defeat. No way was she going to let him give up like this. "Eric, do you think you actually deserve what H is giving you?"

"I assaulted him," he said abruptly, punctuating each word. "I assaulted a suspect. My actions could blow our entire case!"

"Yeah, Eric, you screwed this up," Calleigh admitted harshly. "But other cops would have gotten a week's suspension. Maybe garnered pay." She took a step toward him. "I think you're punishing yourself, because you feel responsible for that little girl's death."

"I AM responsible, Calleigh!" Eric spat.

Cal grabbed her friend gently by the forearms. "No, Eric, you're not," she said softly. "Kendall killed Consuela long before he ever showed up on our radar. There was nothing anybody could have done."

Delko heard Calleigh's words, but they offered him little consolation. "I'm going home, Cal," he sighed. "Thanks for everything. I'll see you tomorrow at the memorial service." He swiftly kissed her cheek then turned and disappeared around the corner, heading for the back stairwell.

Calleigh remained rooted to the spot, mind whirling. Horatio was driving a hard line with Eric; he always did. But this? An internal investigation, a formal reprimand, and three weeks' suspension was excessive, even by Horatio's standards. And Eric was just going to take it, out of some sick sense of guilt.

Without thinking, the blonde CSI launched herself toward the elevator bank, furiously pounding the 'down' button. She rode the lift anxiously downstairs, then ran to the locker room. Calleigh couldn't remember now why she knew the combination to Eric's locker, but she was glad she did. Two seconds later, she was ripping a photo from inside his locker door and rushing back upstairs.

If anyone asked her later how she ended up storming up the stairs to Horatio's office and barging through the glass door, Calleigh wouldn't be able to tell them. Before she knew what she was doing, she was standing in front of her very surprised boss, heart pounding from both emotion and exertion.

"Ms. Duquesne?" the lieutenant asked warily. "Need something?"

"Yes," Calleigh panted. "An explanation." Her words were spilling from her mouth as quickly as they entered her head, and Cal prayed to God she didn't say something she would regret. At the same time, she knew without a doubt that this was the right thing to do.

"Excuse me?"

"Horatio, ever since Megan left you've been asking me for more input. You've given me more responsibilities, wanted my opinions."

"And you've done that well," he said, still not sure where this conversation was headed.

"No, I haven't," Calleigh stated forcefully. "Because if I had, I would have spoken up sooner."

"Ma'am?"

The woman huffed in frustration, pacing a few steps in front of Horatio before turning to face him with fire in her eyes. She spoke in a rush: "Horatio, you demand excellence from this team, and you know how to challenge every one of us in the best way. You offer me space to work out my own problems and shortcomings. Speed—he forgets to clean his gun and nearly gets killed—and you tell him to get his shit together without saying a word. With Eric… he needs that verbal correction. And you give it to him."

Horatio had seen Calleigh waiting downstairs for Delko to leave his office. He'd seen their exchange before Eric left, but he wasn't sure why she was thisangry.

"Before you go any further, Calleigh," H said quietly, "if you're here about Eric…Eric's actions might allow a rapist and murderer to go free. He tied my hands."

Calleigh heard the kindness in his voice, but it did nothing to quench the rage building inside of her. "You alwayshave a choice, Horatio," she nearly growled. The lieutenant's eyebrows shot upward at her aggressive defense of Eric.

"Calleigh—"

"No." Never, in almost five years of working with Horatio Caine, had Calleigh interrupted him. Not once. She recognized the sharp edge of the sword she was walking, but pushed ahead. "Horatio, I am sorry. You know how much I respect you. But if you are serious about wanting my input—well, I'm giving it to you."

Horatio studied her closely. "I'm listening."

Calleigh took a deep breath."Why are you so hard on Delko?"

To her surprise, he didn't try to deny it. Instead, he slowly walked over to his filing cabinet and opened the top drawer. Calleigh could see the tiredness in his features, and his movements seemed to sag with the weight of age and responsibility. When he spoke, his voice reflected the same burden.

Horatio turned back to his CSI holding a file in his hand. "This… is Eric Delko's personnel file. Do you know what's in it?"

Calleigh shook her head.

"Three years' worth of commendations and positive fit reps. Two citations for bravery in the line of duty. Four letters of praise from citizens' he has helped on his own time."

He saw that Calleigh didn't follow, and he continued. "There are also two private letters complaining that he crossed the line. You're right. I am hard on Eric. Because I know what a great police officer he can be. What a great CSI. Sometimes he needs motivation."

"Motivation," the woman repeated to herself. She couldn't help but give a small, derisive laugh. Yes, normally Horatio did an excellent job of motivating her fellow co-worker through spoken critique, because usually he balanced the criticism with ample encouragement. But not this time.

"Delko is more motivated than you could ever imagine, Horatio," she remarked quietly. "He is constantly fighting with himself to do better, fighting to earn your respect. In the end his biggest enemy is himself, his lack of self-confidence."

Horatio sensed that Calleigh was building up to something. "And?"

"And handing him a harsher punishment as incentive to improve—it will only make matters worse for him, and it sets a bad precedent for the department."

"You doubt me, then?" It wasn't said with malice, but it wasn't a question, and Calleigh understood that her boss was less than happy to be second-guessed. There was no backing down now, though.

"Your authority, of course not. This decision, yes," she said without hesitation. "I know Eric better than anyone, Horatio. He's been…"

"…on the verge of losing control," H finished for her. "Which is exactly why I suspended him. He needs to learn to leave his emotions at the door when he comes to work."

Calleigh suddenly remembered why she had stormed in here in the first place, and her fury boiled once more to the breaking point. "That's just it! None of us can do that. Especially you! Horatio, you pour your heart and soul into every case we work. We all do. That is what makes this team so good."

The CSI chief paused for a moment before answering. "I…use what I feel to solve cases. Solve them, Calleigh, not jeopardize them."

The woman threw her hands up in anger and pinned her boss with a glare. Pointing at the file he still held in his hands, she demanded, "Tell me what's in that file."

Horatio's brows furrowed, confused. "I did that already."

"No. I mean, tell me what it says about Eric."

Humoring his second-in-command, H flipped the file open and began to read. "Eric Delektorsky. CSI Level Two. Born December 18, 1976."

Calleigh stopped him before he could read further. "Where was he born?" she asked pointedly.

The redhead answered without looking at the paper. "Miami, Florida."

"Wrong."

His eyes snapped to Calleigh's, and for the first time, Horatio got the feeling that her anger might stem from something more than a sense of injustice for her best friend. "What?"

The blonde took a step toward her boss. "Wrong. Eric Delko was born in Havana, Cuba."

"That's impossible, Calleigh." But when Horatio riffled through Eric's personnel record, he could find no written indication of his birthplace. He finally looked back at his CSI and took a deep breath; seeing that Calleigh was dead serious, the man took a seat on the edge of his desk and motioned for Calleigh to sit across from him. She declined, preferring to stand.

"What am I missing, here?" Horatio did not like being left out of the loop. His three CSIs were the closest thing H had to children, and he wanted the absolute best for them. If he was honest with Calleigh, that's why he rode Eric so hard. His two senior CSIs had already come into their own, but Delko was still struggling to figure out who he was as a CSI, and as a person. Now, Calleigh stood before him contesting everything he thought he knew about the man.

"I don't even know where to start, Horatio," Calleigh sighed.

"How about the beginning. Eric was born in Havana?"

"Yes," she nodded. "December 1976, just like the file says. Two months later, his family made the trip from Cuba to the Keys. Over the years, every last one of them became naturalized citizens."

"The Cuban Adjustment Act," Horatio murmured.

"Right."

"You're not interested in giving me a lesson on citizenship, Calleigh, so why tell me all this?"

She stopped pacing directly in front of her LT. "Horatio, you are the best at what you do. But sometimes…sometimes you get so caught up in helping the victims and their families…you don't see much else."

He was beginning to get the picture. "Like Eric?"

The question hung heavy in the air between the pair for a minute as Calleigh contemplated the best way to explain it all. Just when Horatio thought she was about to speak, she handed him a ragged old photograph instead.

"Did you know that Eric wasn't always the baby of his family?" she inquired cryptically.

Horatio looked down at the photo in his hand. Twelve tanned, grinning little faces stared back at him. He immediately spotted a young Eric Delko in the middle of the pack of children.

"Delko's family," Calleigh explained, pointing at the boy in the center. "Here," she moved her finger, "are his sisters—Marisol, Gabriela, Isabel, and Clara. And these are his cousins: Nicolas, Ariel, Mercedes, Miguel, and Elena." She pointed to each in turn, her finger finally landing on the last face. "This is Alida."

"She can't be more than five years old," Horatio commented.

"Eric was nine in this picture, Alida was four."

"You said, 'Eric wasn't always the baby.' What happened to Alida?" he asked solemnly.

Cal spoke slow and even. "She was practically Eric's shadow—closer than his sisters, because she looked up to him, wanted to be like him. Eric was her hero; he watched out for her in the neighborhood, didn't let the cousins pick on her.

"When he was fifteen and Alida was ten, Eric realized he hadn't seen her all day. He spent two hours looking for her before he found her mangled body, half-submerged in a canal by their house."

She didn't mince her words; she needed Horatio to fully grasp what she was saying. The man's eyes trailed to the empty space over Calleigh's shoulder as she explained the details of Alida's murder and the discovery of her body.

"Her throat was slit. Most of her clothes were in tatters, and Eric knew as soon as he saw her that she'd been raped. Brutally. Think, Horatio—a fifteen-year-old kid pulling his baby cousin's bloody, mutilated body out of a canal."

"How…" H hesitated, "how long have you known this, Calleigh?"

Now it was Calleigh's turn to hesitate. Eric told her Alida's story in confidence, and she didn't exactly have permission to share it. "A while," she equivocated. At Horatio's penetrating glare, she relented. "Since his first week at CSI," she said on a sigh.

His two criminalists were close, Horatio knew, but he never would have guessed how instantaneous their bond had been. At least someone was there to listen; at the moment Horatio felt like he had failed Eric terribly.

"He never said a word," he muttered to himself.

Calleigh voiced her concern with quiet reproach. "You never asked, Horatio."

Silence filled the room. Horatio examined the faces in the picture, lingering on Eric's last. The little boy was doubled over in laughter; behind him, his sisters tickled him without mercy. Twelve joyous, carefree, innocent children.

"It doesn't change what Eric did," he admitted after a while. "David Kendall could walk."

"That alone is tearing Delko to pieces." Calleigh knew Horatio was right. Everyone dealt with their own personal demons, and they couldn't all go around attacking suspects. But if he could just understand

"This is so much bigger than Kendall, H. These cases…they're difficult for him. But not just because of Alida," she said, praying Eric would eventually forgive her for divulging such intimate details about his life—even if this was Horatio.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know Eric is half-Russian, half-Cuban."

"Right," H said, looking at the man's personnel record. "Pavel Delektorsky and Carmen De Los Santos."

"Wrong, again. Eric's father is Russian, but he is not Pavel Delektorsky."

Horatio was growing tired of this wild goose chase. "Calleigh, tell me the whole story."

"Eric's family left Havana because of Eric," she explained. "Pavel was a structural engineer, and Carmen worked as a secretary in a manufacturing plant. There was a Russian man named Sharova—Alexander Sharova, I think—who ran the factory where she worked.

"One night Carmen didn't come home. When Pavel went to the factory to look for her, he heard screaming coming from the manager's offices."

Calleigh stopped for a moment. Although he'd known about his mother's assault since childhood, Pavel and Carmen had only told Eric that a 'very bad man' had hurt his mami. As he grew older, Eric began to ask his father questions. After Alida's murder, Pavel realized he couldn't keep the whole truth from his son anymore.

"Horatio," Calleigh stated quietly, "Eric is the product of a rape. He's had to live with that his entire life."

She watched the redheaded lieutenant toss Delko's file to his desk and bow his head, squeezing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. When he remained silent, she continued. "They never lied to him. He always knew that Pavel wasn't his biological father. When he found Alida…"

Horatio didn't need her to finish that statement. When Eric found Alida, he saw first-hand what his mother went through. He saw first-hand the kind of sick, twisted violence that made his very existence possible. Every day of his life Eric Delko had to look at his mother—a woman who loved him beyond compare—and know how much she sacrificed for him. And his father… as far as Horatio had seen, Pavel considered Eric his own flesh and blood. How much strength must it take for a man to walk in on his wife being raped, then raise the child of the monster that raped her like he was his own son?

"Eric never lacked for love," Calleigh declared. "He never felt like a burden, or like he didn't belong. Carmen calls him 'mi regalito'—her little gift. Their family healed a long time ago and moved on. But Eric—no matter what anyone does or says, he will always carry a little bit of shame. He feels guilty."

Horatio looked up at his CSI sadly. "I think I'm finally beginning to understand," he sighed. "And…I think I owe Eric an apology."

Cal's eyes went wide in alarm. "Delko never told you any of this because he didn't want to make excuses for himself. I—"

"Relax, Calleigh," came the gentle interruption. "You did the right thing. You might want to bring your Southern fury down a notch next time," he smiled, "but I'm grateful you felt the freedom to come talk to me."

Calleigh blushed, but smiled in return. "Deal," she said. "What happens next?"

"Next… we go home and get some sleep. And tomorrow, we remember Consuela Valdes."