Author's Note: Nope, you're not seeing things. I'm really updating this after SIX years. Christmas miracles do exist. I really hope some of you are still around to read this. I'm really sorry for dropping off the face of the earth. I just completely lost inspiration. After graduating college I began writing for a living. It completely stole all inspiration to write creatively. Recently I quit my job and went back to school, and go figure: the writing bug struck again. I started writing for Game of Thrones, got stuck on one of those and decided to open this up, and boom...huge long chapter. I can't promise to be back to Eric and Calleigh forever, but I promise I'll try! I'd love to at least finish this one off. Full disclosure: one of the flashbacks in this is from a previous fic. I actually kind of built this story around it. Hope you don't mind the short reread. :) Also I write in a different tense now and part of this was written years ago, so if there are any odd inconsistencies, that's why. I'll fix it next time. Happy Holidays to everyone! P.S. it's nice to be back :)

Calleigh lay awake in the dark, rolling onto her back away from the streak of moonlight casted over her bed. The moon was especially bright tonight, and she'd tried to blame her sleeplessness on it. But the truth was that every time she laid awake in the quiet of night, her mind and heart were vulnerable to the memories she most often kept beneath the surface. Revealing a part of her recent past to Sarah had only left her reliving those memories even more.

She folded her arms across her abdomen and stared at the ceiling, watching the stationary shadows. Everything out here was so…still, so quiet compared to Miami…

The noise of the roaring bar gave way to the bustling, bright downtown Miami nightlife as she stepped outside the bar. She rarely found herself out when the streets were most alive these days, but a Miami-Dade crime scene investigation and police department holiday party had ended with everyone piling into cabs and heading to their favorite watering hole. And now here she was, a martini and a glass of wine past her two-drink limit and stepping outside to get a little air before she did any more damage inside.

She took a deep breath in, the blur of city lights doing little to help the warm buzzing feeling radiating throughout her body from the alcohol. A broad smile graced her lips as she watched Eric step through the door she'd come out of moments ago. She wasn't altogether unsurprised that he'd followed her. They'd always had a special bond as coworkers and only when slightly buzzed would she admit he had a bit of a soft spot for her, but lately something had shifted. Every little "wanna ride together?", every accidental brush of their hands while handling evidence, every talk about the struggles of their line of work over coffee, every time one of them came close to the line of fire...it was building and she could feel it, leaving her mostly concerned and terrified but the tiniest bit curious and excited.

Under the influence of alcohol, it was dangerously 50/50.

"Hi," she said mischievously, sinking into the brick of the building she was leaning against.

"Hey," he chuckled. "You okay? I saw you slip out and wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I'm good." She nodded, brows furrowing slightly. "I might be the teensiest bit tipsy," she added, wrinkling her nose in a way that revealed an absolutely adorable side of her to him.

"Oh yeah?" He laughed this time, and she couldn't help but admire the sound.

"Yeah." She smiled, holding his gaze. "I was just gonna get some air, but I think I might call a cab. I'm not used to drinking like this and I need my bed and like a gallon of water and maybe some coffee...not in that order."

She tucked an errant curl of blonde hair behind her ear and for the billionth time that night he felt his throat grow tight at how stunning she was. He thought so every day, but there was something about a red dress clinging to the curves he wasn't always privy to, her relaxed demeanor, and a tumble of blonde curls that was driving him absolutely crazy.

"Wanna split one? A cab, not a coffee…"

"You're not staying out?" she questioned, surprised that Eric Delko was turning down a night on the town.

"Not tonight, I'm kind of tired. Besides, it's not every night CSI Duquesne lets loose. I want to make sure you get home okay. And I'm not trying to patronize you." He raised his hands up in defense at the annoyed look on her face. "If anything happened, I know you'd be the one saving my ass. But in our jobs, how many times do we see someone who should've been totally fine never make it home?"

She couldn't challenge that, and so fifteen minutes later they're sharing a cab to Bal Harbour, a warm cup of coffee in one hand and a water bottle in her other after Eric convinced their driver to swing through a drive-thru.

As the cab turned down her street, she turned to him, laying her hand across his knee. It's a little friendlier than she'd normally be, but as her eyes meet his he can tell that the coffee and hydration have sobered her up a little. "Thanks for seeing me home."

"No problem," he said honestly, a little in awe that she was thanking him when she'd practically bent over backwards for him lately. "You've done so much for me lately with Mari being sick and the drug bust and all. It's the least I could do."

Smiling, she leaned in, leaving him frozen with surprise as she laid the palm of her free hand against his jaw and shifted close enough to press a grateful kiss to his other cheek. As if that hadn't done him in, she lingered close to him, her hand grazing over the stubble that covered his jaw as she released him.

"Goodnight, Eric."

And with that he watched her leave, all too aware of the curve of her lips as she glanced back at him over her shoulder.

/~/

One week later

As he pulls the Hummer into her driveway, the first thing he notices are the white lights, perfect little red bows, and classic candles in the window. It's another tiny little detail that brings a smirk to his lips: that Calleigh, for all her seriousness and stone cold determination at work, has a perfectly decorated Christmas wonderland at home.

"Festive," he teased as he slipped the Hummer into park.

"What can I say? I like Christmas." She shrugs playfully and then sighs, the day's events beginning to weigh on her. She'd been running around nonstop since her Hummer had been run off the road and she'd taken an unexpected swim in the Glades first thing this morning. Running a hand through her tousled, wavy hair – another product of her dip – she glanced at him. "Hey, you wanna come in for a bit? I owe you a coffee, but I personally need a drink after the day I've had."

"You don't owe me anything, but a drink sounds good." He cut the engine and followed her in, taking in the little details as she hooks her keys in their resting place and sets her holstered gun on the entryway table. He's been here many times now, especially in the past few months, but there's something different about it now. Maybe it's the festive white lights and touches of garland, perfectly strung around the banister. Maybe it's the fact that their interactions are growing increasingly intimate and flirtatious. Maybe it's that she kissed his cheek outside here a week ago, when their guards were down and the palpable tension between them begged to be acknowledged.

"So….beer? Wine?"

"Beer's good." He follows her into the kitchen, where she pops the cap off a beer for him and pours a glass of red wine for herself.

"Well that was quite a day." They clink bottle to glass and he takes a swig, leaning against the counter next to her.

"Yeah," she says, brows raised as the panic of being trapped in vehicle underwater invades her body again. The stream of water through the air conditioning vents, the murky water of the glades that didn't reveal up from down, the cracking of glass before she'd fortified a plan of escape.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." She sighs, shaking her head as she urges those memories away. "Those close calls just take something out of you… There's still this moment of panic where adrenaline kicks in and your heart is racing, and then it's like your training comes back to you and there's this moment of clarity where you know exactly what to do. You know how it is."

"I do," he agrees, eyes dancing over her with concern. "But it still rattles you. We're not invincible. You could've died today, Calleigh."

She should be thinking about her own mortality and yet all she can register is the way her name sounds on his lips. "I know." She breathes deeply, collecting herself and remembering those moments when she'd sat on the bank, staring at the spot her vehicle had been submerged. A million things could've gone even more wrong. Her seatbelt could've jammed. Her knife may not have been handy. The car could've been completely filled with water by the time the window gave, leaving her without air at the top. She could be in the hospital or worse rather than standing here having a drink, with him.

She leans into the counter, splaying her hand across the surface as she takes a hearty sip of wine.

Looking at her now, for once words and actions are coming to him easier than restraint. He's usually a smooth talker with women and has had no problem making his intentions clear in the past, but with Calleigh it's complicated and terrifying and something about her usually paralyzes him with indecision. But right now, when tension has been building between them for years and intensifying the past few months, when he could have lost her today. Now something is different.

"When I got the call that you'd been run off the road and your car had gone under, everything just stopped," he admits, turning to her.

She knows something has shifted, and suddenly the pounding of her pulse fills her senses as she meets his telling eyes.

"All I could think about was getting to you," he continues, shaking his head as worst-case scenarios rush back to him.

"Eric…" she begins softly, her breath hitching as his fingers find hers. He smooths over the backs of her knuckles before his fingers slip around hers, touching her palm.

"I don't know what that all means, but...I care about you, Calleigh." He steps closer, his fingers closing around her hand as his thumb runs over the backs of her fingers.

"We work together," she says softly, and yet she doesn't pull away. She's too intrigued by his hand, firm yet soft, ghosting over her skin, by the light brown of his skin against the pale porcelain of her own. But then he steps closer and all she can think about is how this is Eric – sweet and charming and yes, especially so with her, but also with a dozen other women. Eric who she worried about when he was hooking up with random women at all hours of the night. Eric who she trusts with her life and works alongside every single day in life or death situations. Eric who is her best friend at work but seems to want very different things than her in life. Eric who is open and honest and communicative while she is closed off and protectively private.

It's maddening having him so close but she steps back, taking a deep breath and she moves her hand from his grasp.

"I can't," she insists, pained eyes meeting his own as she sets her glass down to find her bearings. "We work together and this would be messy and complicated, and I need normal and dependable and-"

"And you don't think I can be normal and dependable?" he cuts her off, brows knitting together with hurt.

"I didn't say that. I depend on you every single day, and that's exactly why we can't do this."

Her glossy eyes dull his temper; this is hurting her, too, and he never wanted to do that. He just wanted to give in to the budding tension and flirtation developing between them. He wants her to smile the way she does when he brings her a cup of coffee or asks him to ride along with her.

"I'm sorry," she utters softly, honestly.

"Yeah, me too." He takes the last swig of his beer and sets it on the counter pointedly. "I'm glad you're okay, Calleigh," he tells her before he sees himself out.

Eric had left home with the simple intention he had every morning: to get to work. Somehow, his body failed to execute that action because he'd swung right when he was supposed to turn left. And he'd hopped onto the Broad Causeway instead of following Biscayne Boulevard straight into downtown.

Soon he was across the water in Bal Harbour, making the familiar drive to her house. At the thought of the last time he'd been here just three months ago, his stomach nearly dropped.

All was dark now without any sign of her. She'd been gone for a full month now. The shades were drawn, the lights off, her car likely tucked in the garage for long-term storage. It showed no hint of what this house once meant to him. There were no traces of comfort or refuge here now.

The funeral had been beautiful, with white flowers that had stood out against all the black amid a sympathetically rainy, dark day. Soft voices had mixed with the deafening white noise of rain, and while others had complained about it, Eric merely swallowed hard.

"Mari loved the rain," he'd whispered to her, a touch of irony coloring his words. She understood the bittersweet acknowledgement that Mari was getting what she wanted on her day, and Calleigh had slowly pulled her umbrella down to let the cool raindrops shock life into their skin again.

Eric's lips had tightened with emotion, and he'd watched her hair darken with dampness before reaching for her hand. She was cold like the rain falling on her skin, but with an undercurrent of warmth, of life, that promised something beyond grief. With a gentle tightening of her fingers, she squeezed his hand reassuringly. It was the most contact they'd had in months.

She'd parted with rivers of rain cascading down her skin and promises to be home if he needed her. After the last time they'd been alone and the subsequent distance he'd been keeping, she didn't expect him to come.

But it was a mere ten minutes after she'd closed her front door behind her that she was opening it again. She hadn't even had a chance to change yet, and her wet dress clung desperately to her damp body like a second skin. Loose waves of blonde traipsed down her shoulders, with a few soaked strands clinging to her neck and chest. And her eyes stood out against the dark atmosphere – a radiant green harbinger of life on an unimaginably dark day.

The touch of her hand against his during the ceremony had been all at once overwhelming and not enough. He needed more, needed to feel the warmth of her skin radiating into his own numbed body.

"Hey." Brows furrowing, she pushed the door aside to let him in. They hadn't done this in a while, but protocol used to dictate a cup of coffee while seated at a table, or on different chairs in her living room – a safe, manageable distance apart aside from the last time he'd been here. But today he was filled with grief, and she simply watched as he fought the vigor in his eyes while he brushed past her.

Then, turning back with a sudden, renewed sense of purpose and direction, he ambushed her. His hands found her waist, still clothed by a black dress, and his lips met hers with such desperation she was rendered motionless. Even filled with grief and anger, he was soft with her, careful with her. His hands gripped her waist as though she might break just as easily as him right now. And when he increased the pressure, lips parting from hers only to catch them again with more urgency, she realized this was wrong.

"Eric," she let out with a pained breath. He stopped immediately at the sound of his name falling so intimately from her lips, letting her slip from his touch. It would take all her resolve to stay away, she knew. "We can't," she explained, surprised by just how much regret washed over her. "You know what I said…"

But when her eyes met his and the intensity there resonated within her, she knew this was different.

This wasn't a fling. It wasn't some toothing game he would wish to take back in the morning. It was raw need, grief, a longing for someone who understood everything – someone who understood him. It was a longing for her, because she'd been in his life and in his dreams for the better part of six years, and he had no idea what to do with how he felt for her. It was beyond his capacity for understanding at this point in time, when random women brought him a thrill of excitement without all the dangerous, soul-bearing intimacy.

The fact that Calleigh was more than halfway there just as a friend terrified him, but he couldn't help himself sometimes – not after a few beers had crumbled his walls, not after a day when he'd almost lost her, and certainly not just after he'd put Mari six feet below today.

No, it wasn't a fling or a game. It was an admission – an acknowledgement of the depth and need between them. It was too much on an average day, but compared to the overwhelming grief consuming him today, it just seemed right.

"Just tonight," Eric assured, fingers toying with the little black drawstring dangling from her waist. "Nothing less, nothing more." Somehow it was assuring. No expectations, no misguided promises. No chaos.

And then his hand skated over her abdomen until he was holding her waist again, his touch both searing and gentle, his eyes studying the way hers had changed to a deeper green in the dimming light. Softening, his brows knit together as he studied her, mumbled words tumbling from his lips.

Holding his gaze, she pressed her palms to his chest, and he thought he'd met her iron defenses despite knowing how she felt. But then her hands cupped his cheeks, drawing his lips back down to hers, and she pushed up onto the bare tips of her toes to meet him. His hands reclaimed their spot on her waist, pulling her further against him. The delicate weight of her body kissing his was maddening in a wonderfully distracting way, and the heat in her touch as her fingers glided to the back of his neck had him feeling he'd been lifted from the surreal pain of the day.

Calleigh was here. She was alive, and the assurance of her lips against his was the one thing keeping him grounded. He parted his lips and the taste of her overwhelmed him. Invigorated and awakened, he raked his fingers through her long, damp hair, pushing it back behind one shoulder. His hand danced softly over her skin, along her cheek, and he pulled back just slightly to question her eyes.

The certainty there astounded him. As he swept his thumb over the delicate flesh of her bottom lip, she untied the drawstring at her hip, letting it fall loose.

His fingers slipped into her hair again as he captured her lips with his, a sudden urgency taking over his motions. With her hands tugging his shirt loose to find bare skin and his hand contemplating the zipper of her dress, he knew they were dangerously close to stepping over a ledge they couldn't come back from. They'd danced around it before, had stepped far back with valid reasons, but those all ceased to matter now.

Lips melding together over and over again, he was overwhelmed by her. Something far more than attraction and desperation danced between them, yet he couldn't pinpoint it, couldn't acknowledge it anyway. Doing so would risk everything. So he kissed her and let his touch dance across her skin, slowly finding the zipper with hands that longed for more.

He was in love with the sight of the black material falling from her light, damp skin, like they were peeling away the remnants of darkness to come alive. The dress fell to her feet, and they made it upstairs in a confusing blur of grief and desire.

He and Calleigh. It was crazy, and yet it seemed inevitable.

Gripping the wheel suddenly, Eric swerved away from her house, making a sharp u-turn to head back towards downtown Miami.

The beats and squeaks of her sneakers hitting the wet pavement became a soundtrack to her run. Two days' worth of grey skies had finally given way to an afternoon downpour, the mist still rising from the pavement.

She needed to clear her head, and a run after the rain seemed like the perfect remedy. Everything was fresh and clean, the pines dripping with rain water, the sound of a rushing river in the distance. And yet despite the new environment and the fresh rain, he still managed to creep back into her thoughts.

Maybe it had been a mistake to tell Sarah. Admitting it made it all the more raw, and yet she was slightly relieved that someone else knew. She was used to shouldering her burdens alone, but this...this it felt good to tell someone, to get some perspective from someone far removed but trustworthy.

But now the memories and feelings were swirling throughout her mind and body, leaving her restless, agitated, and anxious. And that was without thinking of the aftermath. She'd been distracted all day at work, and her tried and true method of clearing her mind with a long run wasn't even working.

She pushed her pace, testing the limits of her body as she started up a path with a steep grade. Her body was used to it, but not at this pace, and soon she was breathing hard and her legs were burning with fatigue. It had quickly become her goal to run as far as possible, away from her thoughts and her feelings and a little bit even from reality. As far from it as she could get, at least.

But just as her muscles felt like they were about to give out and her breathing turned to a panicked hyperventilating, she realized where she was going: the path her car had taken several times since moving here, the only path just as familiar as the one to her new place of employment.

Sarah's.

Her house stood like a familiar beacon in the distance.

She rested a hand over the sharp cramp in her side and one over her ribs as she slowed, trying to catch her breath. But it was to no avail. Between the blistering pace of her too-long run and her panicked thoughts, her body had gone into survival mode and her lungs were trying to compensate. Rapid, deep breaths took hold of her lungs and she had to stop a few hundred feet before Sarah's.

Checking her GPS watch, she took note of her mileage and time. 10 miles. 8:17 average pace, despite the rolling hills and steep grades.

The steps to Sarah's nearly finished her legs, but she made it to the doorbell and waited, her body still gasping for air but finally regulating.

"Calleigh," Sarah gasped as she opened the door for her. "Are you okay?"

Calleigh nodded, holding onto the doorframe as she stepped inside. "I'm sorry," she breathed out, putting her hands on her burning back as she breathed in deeply through her nose and then out her mouth. She glanced around the house, expecting kids to interrupt.

"They're at school," Sarah assured, understanding. Leading Calleigh to a seat at the built-in kitchen nook, she asked, "What's going on?"

Calleigh stared at nothing at the center of the table for a moment, torn between the truth and the fear of speaking it. Finally she fixed her gaze on Sarah as her breath came back to her, swallowing hard.

"I'm pregnant." The words tumbled out of her mouth in disbelief as she wrapped her arms around her still small frame.

But now that Sarah thought about it, it clicked: the way Calleigh had turned down wine at dinner, the slight rounding of her usually toned and taut abdomen, why she was here, why she'd run away.

"14 weeks." Calleigh shrugged, overwhelmed tears glistening in her bright green eyes.