Note: So sorry for the long wait on this. This semester is (and will be) my hardest one in terms of workload. I've been working on this little by little over the weekends, though, and I finally have it finished. There should be one more chapter before this is complete. Thanks for being patient, and - as always - thanks for the reviews!
-:- four -:-
The past week had been grueling. Between analyzing a complicated crime scene, interpreting confusing evidence, and riding the fine line between defending and investigating a colleague, Calleigh was exhausted. They'd closed the case late last night, and she'd gotten home in time to catch five hours of restless sleep before waking to start it all again today.
Another day, another case, another gun to test-fire…and for once all she wanted was her bed. She didn't want to make small talk with co-workers, didn't want to hear sob stories from suspects, and she certainly didn't want to spend half her day in the eternally cold ballistics lab. She didn't want to admit it, because it was kind of rare for her, but she was…in a mood.
It had a little to do with the sudden onset of empty nights spent alone, a little more to do with lack of sleep, and a lot to do with the thoughts that hadn't stopped plaguing her mind for two days now. She'd been worrying over something she told herself she shouldn't be, had been letting her thoughts spiral beyond control – and that was something she hated doing.
On second thought, maybe work would be a good distraction. She could bury herself in casework, immerse herself in the lives of others, and hide her own concerns between the pages of ballistics reports. Maybe it would at least distract her from the wave of anxiety that had been washing over her with increasing tenacity ever since Horatio's "all clear" call from Los Angeles. He and Eric were done there, coming home… A little part of her was excited like she should have been, but that was far overshadowed by the uneasiness stirring within her.
Taking in a steadying breath, she pushed the barrel of the small revolver out and emptied the cartridges. Cheap ammunition. Her shoulders slumped a little and she gave a disapproving shake of her head.
Behind her, Eric was chuckling silently in the doorway because he knew. And he was taking a moment to admire her because he could. She was turned away from him, long hair half clipped back with a few of her natural waves still cascading down. She must have been in a rush that morning.
Eyes zeroing in on a particular piece, she grabbed a swab, lifted some trace evidence, and sealed it off in a container. As she ran a bore brush through the barrel, she sighed, disapproving again.
He loved watching her work. She could expertly disassemble any weapon and have it reloaded properly within minutes. She had such confidence in her movements, such grace. But today there was something a little more. Frustration maybe? She'd pulled the brush through a little more hastily and she slapped the reloaded cylinder into place with a bit more force than usual.
And then she turned a little, furrowing her brows in suspicion before she finally turned to face him. Laying her hands on the table behind her, she leaned into it and smiled knowingly. He was leaning against the doorway, lips curved upward just slightly as he watched her.
"How long have you been there?"
"A few minutes," he answered, pushing off the doorframe to take a few steps towards her.
Calleigh pursed her lips, taking in his tired eyes as her own drew over him. "How was LA?"
"Crazy." He took another step closer and he thought he saw her tense. But she eased the moment his fingers drew over her temple, slipping into her hair. "I didn't really see much of it." His hand reached the back of her neck, fingers caressing the soft skin there just like he sometimes did before dipping down to press his lips to hers.
She sensed it and gave him a sympathetic smile, but he noticed the way her eyes quickly flickered away. "I should get back to work…"
"Okay," he agreed reluctantly, studying her for just a moment too long. "I guess I should go catch up on sleep… Didn't get any on the red eye."
"Okay." She turned, checking the safety on the gun again. Fully knowing his eyes were still on her, she took a deep breath and buried her worries beneath the surface. "Hey, are you going home?"
He paused for a moment, slipping his hands into his pockets as his eyes narrowed on her at the question that had a blaringly obvious answer. "Yeah…"
Biting her lip, she picked up her gear and walked over to the range, a hint of her usual strut back in her stride. "Maybe you could go to mine."
Eric grinned hesitantly, watching a smile toy at her lips as she slipped her goggles on. "Maybe."
Calleigh had expected to come home to a quiet house – Eric still nestled beneath the covers, her home bathed in darkness. Instead, it was alive with lights, a little movement, and an overwhelmingly appetizing aroma. Realization struck her as she toed off her heels in the hallway. He was cooking – cooking something that reminded her of the nights she'd prepared her grandmother's favorites in an attempt to recapture the comforts of home.
And when she stepped into the kitchen, she knew why. Eric was stirring what had to be a pot of her Cajun jambalaya, and when he met her eyes he had this smarmy, pleased look on his face that was still somehow tender.
She rested a hand on the counter and the other on her hip. "What's all this?"
Lifting his eyes to hers, not at all startled, he simply opened two other pots to reveal seasoned greens and her favorite homemade macaroni and cheese.
"Comfort foods," she deduced, eyeing him skeptically with a slow tilt of her head. Still, there was an underlying knowing in her eyes – the tiniest crack in her façade.
He mirrored her, turning his head slightly to the side as he watched her with concern. "Something's wrong."
The defensive tightening of her shoulders came far too quickly, as did her too-sharp words. "Nothing is wrong," she assured. But she eased slightly when she realized how hollow it sounded. Shrugging, she met his eyes again and softened. "Everything's fine," she said, and though he didn't quite believe her he finally had the notion she was okay. "It's all normal and fine."
Eric knew she almost wanted to say more, but she drew a sudden breath in and fixed her eyes on the deliciously indulgent cheese overload.
"Hungry?" He smiled, relaxing a little.
"Starving."
. . .
With mostly empty dishes now littering her coffee table, Calleigh was surprisingly relaxed. She was content to let them sit in a certifiable mess, content to simply lie facing him on the sofa – content to let his touch lull her into a deep calm she'd lacked for days. He pressed his lips to her forehead and she sighed.
She wasn't going to say anything. Hadn't even considered it, really. But now she was tucked against his warm body, his fingertips skimming over her arm, and he had this way of drawing words from her lips like a sacred confessional. He didn't even have to try and yet he rarely failed.
But she held back the urge. This wasn't surprising or unexpected. It wasn't like there had been worries or expectations. There was no stake in saying anything. Still, somehow it was overwhelming.
"I'm not pregnant."
She pressed her lips together immediately afterward and rolled them as her eyes flickered over him. Still silent, he watched her, not quite putting it all together yet. It wasn't like they'd been trying. It wasn't like they should have been ready for any of this after so much had just imposed a break on their relationship.
So he tried to bury the strange hint of disappointment within him as he simply uttered, "Okay." He even managed a forceful mildly relieved smile.
She did the same, sighing with a weight much different than that of relief. "In the clear…"
She was a little emotionless, but he chalked it up to the near loss of control he suspected she'd been troubled by. Even the possibility of the unexpected could always throw her off kilter.
"Yeah," he agreed halfheartedly. With his hand stilling on her arm for his palm to rest against her skin, he added comfortingly, "We can be more careful from now on, Cal…really this time." He stole a moment to collect the words he didn't mean but that he assumed she'd want to hear. "We should probably slow down a little."
She took a deep breath in to quell the frustration and nodded mechanically. "Yeah. I guess we should."
Resting the bridge of his nose against her temple, he paused there, wondering, maybe knowing. She would never risk losing that control unless she was sure of the outcome…right?
"Calleigh…"
Silently, she met his eyes, and he put together the pieces he was slow to believe were related. She was upset. She wasn't pregnant. She was upset because she wasn't pregnant.
His eyes changed and she looked away, smiling sadly.
"Did you…" he began disbelievingly. Starting again, he tried, "Do you…?"
She shook her head, brushing him off as reality pressed down on her. "No…" Blinking slowly, her lashes fluttered as her eyes landed on his again. "It's crazy."
But somehow it wasn't to him – not with the way he felt about her, and not considering how ready they'd almost been a few months ago. That time apart was feeling more and more like a strange dream that had been so real in the night and then forgotten days later. It was like they'd picked right back up where they'd left off, but stronger now – better and more honest. And thinking of where they'd left off met him with a world of endless possibilities…
"It's not that crazy," he told her, a slightly embarrassed yet assured look taking over his features. He was a little disappointed, too. "Not when I've wanted to marry you for years…" He smiled nervously, watching her surprised eyes. "Now that's crazy."
After swallowing the sudden ball of emotion in her throat, she smiled and pressed a palm to his chest. "It's not that crazy," she echoed softly.
"Really?" He questioned her a little playfully, raising a brow.
"No, I knew that." She smiled still, but spoke softly, balancing on the precarious edge between coy and serious.
"It seemed pretty crazy to me," he admitted, touching his hand to hers. "I mean, I had a ring and everything…have a ring." Furrowing his brows at the correction, he toyed with her fingers, tangling them with his as her eyes settled on him without hesitation.
Somehow it wasn't that crazy to her. Actually, it was just the right amount of crazy.
-\-
A week in the Keys. It had surprised everyone. Calleigh had taken a sudden weeklong vacation to the Keys. With Eric. And she'd returned brighter, happier, and with a renewed sense of purpose.
As she walked across the ballistics lab, her usual swing was back in her hips. Her legs were leaner than ever thanks to a daily running partner, and her skin was unusually golden after a week of boat rides and beachside lounge chairs.
And thanks to her second skin of white exam gloves, no one had noticed the sparkling ring with a low profile solitaire diamond setting on her left hand, or the understated solid band perched atop it – and that was just the way she liked it. No questions, no judging glances, no details of her private life being whispered between the glass walls of the lab.
Of course, he was going to ruin all of that if he kept this up.
She smiled the moment she heard his footsteps, grinned as his arms encircled her waist from behind, and looked down as his hand came to rest over hers on the countertop. Her eyes settled on the matching platinum band on his left ring finger and she tried to hide a smile. She'd never been one for traditional symbolism, but she kind of had a thing for that ring.
Leaning back, she tucked her head beneath his while no one was around and sighed contentedly. "Hey."
"Hey." He brushed his lips against her temple discreetly. Luckily, the ballistics lab was often like solitary confinement. "Hungry?"
She turned to him and smiled. "Starving."
