Author's Note: Guess who was productive today, too? It's me. You don't really have to guess. Thank you all SO MUCH for the incredibly encouraging reviews. You all said such nice things; I actually teared up a little. Ask anyone, that's hard to make me do. This is actually only half the chapter, but I'm tired, and I want to study a little more. I have a test on the origins, insertion, innervations, and actions of every muscle in the lower extremity to study for. Rote memorization, anyone? Pass. I hate that method of learning. It's so inefficient, but it's a necessary evil. Also have to study for a biochem exam. And a physiology exam. And...the list just goes on and on. So, I'll shut up and go study, and you read and review. The point was, this is only half the chapter, so I'll finish and update as soon as I can. Have a lovely day, everyone.

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Calleigh grinned at Eric shyly as he moved to stuff his belongings into bags. Her heart was springing around her chest cavity and a flock of butterflies had apparently just migrated into her stomach, because she suddenly found herself frighteningly nervous. She wasn't sure what to do now, what to make of it. She hadn't exactly planned this far ahead, hadn't expected him to agree. She'd prepared herself for a fight; and he hadn't disappointed in the least. But, events of the evening had taken a surprising and unsettling turn, and now she wasn't at all sure she as ready to deal with it. Putting all that aside she reminded herself why she was here. What she was doing this for. Eric. She was doing this for Eric. To keep him safe. To help him out. For Eric. If she was really honest with herself, then she would admit that she was doing it for herself, too. Having him with her, safe and warm and real and alive. Breathing and talking and fighting even. It was just as much for her as anyone else.

One suitcase full, he smooshed it down forcefully and zipped it closed quickly, moving on to the next one. Calleigh moved quietly to the bathroom, gathering up his shampoo, shower gel, toothbrush. She smiled when her gaze fell upon a single bottle of cologne. The only one he'd brought with him. Narcisco Rodriguez for Him. A Christmas gift from her a few years ago. The simpler times. More innocent. She missed those times. Removing the lid, she sniffed at the bottle, closed her eyes, and allowed herself to float on the scent back in time. It was with a self-satisfied smirk that she recapped the bottle, smug in the knowledge that he'd chosen to only bring the one she purchased for him. She'd spent hours at the counter with a haughty sales woman that Christmas season smelling option after option, then resetting her senses with the sharp, acidic aroma of coffee beans. He rarely wore it work; it was light, but it could still overpower and cover something important at a crime scene. Still, it warmed her that he'd grabbed it, secured it with him in this hellhole of a motel.

"Where should I put these?" She exited the grimy bathroom arms laden with bottles.

"Here." He moved quickly to unburden her. "I can do that. You don't have to do this."

"I don't mind." She refused to relinquish her load, and Eric stopped for a moment by what he saw. Her face was open and honest, and Eric couldn't help but believe her. She didn't mind. She was there for him. Wanted to be.

"Here." He opened a gym bag and indicated for her to drop the items inside. "Thank you." He was a little embarrassed in all honesty, that she was here – seeing him like this. She was always so poised. So coiffed. So consummately professional and put-together. He looked at the remnants of his life and wondered at its dissimilarity from hers. Compared to Calleigh, it looked like Hurricane Andrew had just leveled his life and FEMA had yet to come in and clean up the mess. Then again, maybe Calleigh was his FEMA. Maybe she could clean it up. Put the pieces back together. Put him back together.

"I'm going to take these out to the car." He glanced up in surprise and almost laughed at the sight. Calleigh had his gym bag slung across her torso, one hand pulling a wheeled suitcase, the other struggling to hold his suits and dress clothes up off the filthy carpet.

He smiled despite himself, and tried not to laugh, though his efforts were in vain.

"Something funny?" She wasn't actually upset, and the laughter just under her words betrayed her mirth. She hadn't seen him smile in so long. Really smile - with his eyes dancing and glittering in the light. She'd missed that, too. So many things about their relationship had changed. Grown cold and complacent. She'd feared it had died, but clearly that was not the case. The knowledge excited her; made something dance within.

Eric cocked his head to the side and took the sight of her in once more, shoulders burdened with luggage, soaking wet and dripping water on the floor below. "Just you." He hadn't laughed in days, and it felt good.

"What about me?"

"You're all wet." He had a knack for pointing out the obvious. "You just look so…bedraggled." It was the best adjective he could muster. "It's cute."

"I look like a drowned rat." She countered, having already been treated to her reflection in the dirty bathroom mirror. Perhaps the dirt and smudges softened her reflection, she'd mused. Improved on it somehow. Doubtful. And now he was teasing her about it. "And that's cute?"

"Yeah." He admitted. "It is." He never saw her like this, so casual and undone. Her jeans and hooded sweatshirt made her look younger than her thirty four years, and the rain had long since washed away the remains of her makeup, leaving her refreshingly barefaced and honest. To Eric, she'd never looked more beautiful.

"You need to have your eyes examined." She'd missed this, the easy joking, the harmless flirting, the banter between them. This is what had been so painfully absent from her life for so long.

Eric knew better than laugh out loud or refuse to let her try, but maybe logic could benefit him here. "How are you going to open the trunk?" Both of her hands were full.

"Got it covered." She beamed at him jovially, barely waving her hanger-covered hand, proudly displaying her keys with the automatic clicker poised and ready.

"I'll test it again." He abandoned packing and snatched the explosives kit.

"Don't bother." She shook her head as she struggled with the door knob. "I'm willing to risk it."

"I'm not." Clasping his hand over hers on the knob, he squeezed gently and twisted, opening the door. Her eyes met his, and her protests died unspoken. He was unwilling to risk her life for his, and the realization caused the air to abandon her lungs in a slow swish.

Nodding her assent, she allowed him to hold the door for her, even let him remove the garment-laden hangers from her hand, and waited just outside for him to close up properly.

"Wait here." He instructed. "I'll open the trunk, then you come on out." There was no reason for her to get even more wet standing in the rain waiting on him to test and unlock the car.

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Calleigh backed out the parking space and waited with baited breath until the headlights from Eric's vehicle blinded her in the rearview mirror. The rain magnified the glare in the windows, making her blink and her eyes water as it burned her retinas. Slowly easing her car forward through the wind and puddles, she hesitated, looking behind her, watching as his car inched forward and matched her speed. Satisfied that he really was going to follow her home, she accelerated, turned onto the highway, and led the caravan of two carefully to her home in Bal Harbour.

When Calleigh first moved to the Miami area nearly ten years ago, she'd rented an apartment in a slightly…rougher neighborhood. She'd searched and saved for three years for the perfect place. The perfect refuge from the world. From her past. From her life. The first place she'd ever lived in and truly felt safe. Protected. Alive. The simple bungalow suited her perfectly. It erupted light and warmth inside, covered her in its balmy glow, and soothed her world-weary nerves. At the end of the day, she never ceased to look forward to stepping inside the front door, shutting it smartly behind her, and allowing the peace within to seep into her bones. It was smallish, but it suited her. Cozy, she had discovered quickly, was realtor-speak for small, but the first time she'd stepped inside this 'cozy' cottage she knew she was home at last. Maybe Eric could absorb some of the tranquility and serenity she found within its protective walls.

The wind velocity had increased, and sharp gusts blew angrily against Calleigh's car. Struggling to keep her car in one lane, she bit her lip and concentrated on the yellow line in front of her. "Look for it, aim for it." She repeated again and again. Louisiana rain storms were bad, real toad stranglers, as her Daddy had put it, but they had nothing on a Miami downpour. Wind and rain and blowing foreign objects. Palm trees and sand and little bits of building materials hurled around her as she drove. It wasn't even hurricane season yet, but surely this had to be at minimum a tropical storm. The weather had taken an ironic twist, she realized, blowing and howling outside as she and Eric yelled and argued with each other. As they fought with themselves; inside.

Finally, her home appeared up ahead, and Calleigh allowed herself to exhale, reminding her muscles to relax. Parking as far to one side of the driveway as possible, she purposely left room for Eric to leave his vehicle beside hers. It was a peace-offering of sorts; to put them both on level ground, on solid footing. With each other. With themselves. He took her lead and pulled up beside her, smiling a little as she stood in the rain waiting for him.

Eric shoved the parking brake down and popped the trunk, leaping from the vehicle before Calleigh could gather all of his bags up at once.

"Got everything?"

"Yeah." Eric nodded, and followed her up to the door.

She unlocked the door and waited for him to enter before she stepped inside as well. Toeing off her soggy sneakers, she dragged his suitcase through the living room, leaving him standing in the foyer, dripping on her rug.

"You coming?" She called behind her, not hearing footsteps follow.

Eric willed his feet to move, but held his breath as his eyes followed her path. He had stayed here once, years before, overnight. Back then he'd slept on the couch, feet hanging off the edge. Calleigh didn't stop at the sofa, however. She continued down the hall, and Eric hated himself for the way his heart skipped a beat. Was she going…? No. She veered off to the left, turned into a different room.

Calleigh noted his look of confusion and hurriedly clarified. "I forgot you haven't been here in a while. I redecorated." It was a nice way of saying it. He hadn't been in her house for nearly a year. "I turned the study into a guest room. You don't have to sleep in the couch this time." She gestured for him to pass through the door, then stepped inside as well, and opened the closet door.

"Feel free to hang your stuff in here." She pointed. "If you need more hangers, just let me know. I have plenty." She paused for a moment, and looked around her. "This will be your room. You know. Until…" She trailed off, unsure of how to finish. Until what? Until there aren't people shooting at you anymore. Until the people who want you dead are…gone? Bored? What? Until when? She wasn't sure.

"Yeah." He wasn't sure, either.

"Okay." She perked up a little and continued on, more sure of herself this time. "Now, I just need three things from you. In no particular order."

Eric eyed her cautiously, apprehensive about what might follow.

"First." She smiled gently at him and laid her hand softly on his forearm. "I need you to take a long hot shower and relax a little." The DeLuca Motel, she imagined, didn't exactly lend itself to rest or relaxation, but that was where she excelled. "Second; give me your dirty laundry, and I'll start running a load through. I figure you've got some stuff that needs cleaned by now."

She waited for a response, and was quickly rewarded. "Calleigh, you don't need to do my laundry."

"You're going to need clothes." She had a point, much as he hated to admit it. "And I have a washer and drier."

"I went to the laundromat a few days ago." What were the chances that Calleigh would just give in?

"If you don't have enough for a full load, I'll toss some of my stuff in. I need to do a little laundry, too, and I promise not to use girly fabric softener on your things."

Chances: Zero. He had to admit, though, he liked the idea of his clothes and her clothes matriculating. Tumbling together.

"Look." She persisted. "It's not like I haven't seen tighty whities before."

He couldn't let that go, but Calleigh was counting on that. "I do NOT wear tighty whities!" He exclaimed indignantly, unwilling to let her believe, even for a second, that he was that kind of guy. "And I don't mind your fabric softener." He admitted. He didn't, either. It smelled like lavender and loveliness. It smelled like Calleigh.

"I should hope not!" She paused before elaborating. "All that constriction isn't good for…future generations, you know." Teasing him, flirting with him relaxed somewhat. Reminded her of days past.

"Well, I can't have that now, can I?" He lifted one eyebrow suggestively, relieved that things seemed to be okay between them, the explosion an hour ago seemingly forgotten. She didn't respond, but he notes how her cheeks took on a darker, pinkish tinge.

"And?" He prompts.

"And what?"

"You said there were three things." The first two hadn't been too bad. Far more painless than he'd feared at first. He should have known better than to expect Calleigh's hospitality to be anything less than impeccable.

"I want you to relax and make yourself at home." Her words were so sincere, her voice so plaintive. "Really, whatever you want. If you're hungry, eat. If you're thirsty, get something to drink. Watch TV if you want. Watch movies. You don't have to wait or ask. Just…go ahead. Please."

"Sure, Cal." Her words touched him. "Of course."

She took a step toward him and reached out again. "Eric?"

"Yeah?"

"I missed you."

The admission floored him, shocked him. Calleigh Duquesne didn't say things like that. She didn't admit emotion openly, without provocation. Especially not to him. "I missed you, too." He had. And he hadn't even realized it until right now. "I missed you, too."

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A/N: This seemed like as good as a place as any to stop for a moment. Hope you liked/tolerated it. R/R!