Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds or CSI: Miami; if I did there'd be a helluva lot more crossovers, so please don't sue.

Warnings: Contains mild fluff/ smut; you don't like, you don't read capisce?

A/N: To all of you who have been nagging - er - gently reminding me to get this chapter off the PC and up here a big thank you for your patientice and persistence; RL's been a pain lately. Many thanks to "Team Beta"; especially Robin for helping me write myself out of a corner. To everyone on the Miami FicTalk, AllThingsHoratioCaine and CSIFanFiction Yahoo groups thank you for your kind words. This is my first attempt at fluff so please be gentle.

Special thanks to Sarah McLachlan for providing my "soundtrack"


Chapter 7:

Dirty Little Secrets

Well you wondered what she saw, and now you know … hurts doesn't it? Horatio felt the blood drain from his face, aware of the world around him in that odd disconnected way rendered some senses dull and others painfully acute. Her words had the effect of a knife between the ribs; as she'd no doubt intended them to. He felt her hand slip from his grasp as she rose from the couch and paced to the bookcase on the opposite side of the room.

Ross hit the play button on the stereo as she passed; smiling ironically as Sarah McLachlan sang about dirty little secrets. She gripped the edge of a bookshelf with both hands, feeling the wood cut into her palms. The silence was becoming oppressive; she could feel him looking at her from across the room. Why didn't he say something damn it!

Horatio sighed, his voice a mere thread of sound in the silence. "That's why I became a CSI."

Ross shot him a narrow-eyed glance; she shook her head very slowly. "Come on Horatio; that's a cop-out, you know it is."

"It's the truth." Horatio replied quietly, absolute conviction in his voice.

"Truth cuts both ways Horatio; that's why you have to be careful with it." She turned back towards him, a cynical expression on her face. "That's why everybody lies; to others, to themselves - it's safer that way."

"Trust works both ways too." Horatio looked away briefly; collecting his thoughts. "A few years ago, the team caught a sniper case; the guy was a retired Marine. He killed five people before we caught him."

Ross nodded. "I remember reading about it; the guy didn't choose victims, he chose locations – the farther away the better."

"And he'd only take the shot when conditions were perfect." Horatio continued. "We tracked him to his next location and used the chopper to ruin his shot by fucking up the wind conditions."

"Ingenious; and?" Ross's tone was mild, but her eyes were intent. She knew what was coming next; Calleigh and Eric had told her the story, but she wanted to hear his version.

"And I deliberately stood directly in his line of fire. I couldn't see him; he was over nine hundred yards away, but I knew that he could see me." Horatio paused briefly, rising from the couch and closing the distance between them. "It – it was pretty intense; fantastic actually. I know that I could have been killed, but at that moment I didn't care. And if I found myself in a similar situation I'd do it again."

"So you're saying you saved me because you needed a fix? Stop lying to yourself. You know the real reason you did it." An edgy darkness moved through her eyes turning them green- black. "You just won't admit to it."

"I've seen too many people die in front of me; people I cared about." The fact that this woman could read him so easily was frightening; and seductive as hell. He was a man who valued being in control, both in his job and his personal relationships; he decided how much to reveal or conceal, even his unrequited love for Yelina hadn't reached this level of emotional turmoil. He hated it and loved it at the same time.

Horatio took a step toward her. Okay, major invasion of personal space, but looming wasn't possible when both parties were the same height. She took a step back; he followed her like a familiar dance partner, smiling darkly when she realized that she'd backed herself into a literal corner. He braced one hand on the shelf behind her head, idly tracing the chain around her neck with the other. "I didn't want to add you to the list."

"Why?" Fire spread beneath her skin where he touched her, like a match being stuck. The air felt heavy; the intensity of emotion creating a buzz in her veins. She baited him. "Martyrdom's boring so you're trying for sainthood; I'm some kind of penance project?"

"I do seem to be developing a taste for mental self torture." The blood in his veins lit up like gasoline in the presence of a match. His fingers left her necklace and skimmed up the side of her neck, turning up the heat. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, he leaned in and whispered. "What I've been thinking would get me disqualified though."

Ross closed her eyes, shivering at the sensation of his fingers caressing the back of her neck. His voice wrapped her in a layer of fire that burned from the inside out. An image of what would have happened in his office if they hadn't been interrupted built in her mind; the contrast between the darkly carnal fantasy and his current restraint almost shattered her. She gripped the shelf behind her with enough force to cut the circulation in her fingers and leave scratches in the wood, stifling a groan. Oh yeah, no arguments from this side of the floor…

She opened her eyes and looked at him; his eyes were glittering, and so dark they didn't look blue in the dim light. There was also a subtle expression of arrogant confidence on his face that she hadn't seen before, and it was sexy as hell. That sonofabitch, he'd let that slip on purpose …


"My first trip to Florida and it rains!" Morgan grumbled as he and Gideon stepped out of the elevator into the reception area of the Crime lab. He compared the glass walls and open concept floor plan to the concrete rabbit warren at Quantico and whistled. "Nice crib!"

"It could be worse; it could be hurricane season. Their window cleaning bill must be enormous." Gideon remarked in a deadpan voice "Get Garcia on the horn. Give her this number and tell her we need a location ASAP."

"You already have work for Garcia?" Morgan took the Post-It Gideon handed to him and hit speed dial, a quizzical look on his face. "Should I be only mildly concerned or worried as all hell?"

"I'm testing a theory." Gideon replied over his shoulder as he strode to the reception desk. "Agents Gideon and Morgan, FBI to see Lieutenant Caine and Agent Marlowe."

Which tells me absolutely nothing … Morgan thought in exasperation as he waited for Garcia to pick up.

The trim blonde in a beige sheriff's department uniform behind the desk gave Gideon a professional smile that died the minute his federal badge appeared and reached for the phone.

"Talk to me tall dark and incredibly handsome," Garcia's voice chirped in Morgan's ear. "Miss me yet?"

"Help; all these gorgeous women in bikinis are throwing themselves at me!" Morgan smiled, turning away slightly. "Baby girl, you know I'm desolate without you. Work your magic and get a location on the following number please and thank you." He rattled off the digits.

"Have you no respect for my talents sugar?" In her office at Quantico, Garcia set down her mug of herbal tea with a thump, rolled her eyes and started typing, eyes fixed on the monitors in front of her. "Give me challenge; FYI all cell phones issued to Miami Dade County employees have GPS tracking! And the mystery contestant is, drum roll please, Lieutenant Horatio Caine, Miami-Dade Crime Lab. Heartfelt accolades now being accepted; comparisons to minor deities would be a good place to start."

"You are a goddess! Where's he at?" Morgan could hear the smug grin in her voice. He pulled out a notepad and pencil, using his shoulder to hold the phone while he wrote. "Uh-huh. Thanks sweetness; I'll have a mojito in your honour the first chance I get."

"Don't take candy from any strange beach bunnies, Ciao!" Garcia disconnected.

Morgan closed his phone and handed the note to Gideon. "Now are you going to tell me about this theory or am I going to have to figure it out myself?"

Gideon glanced at the piece of paper, nodded and took a seat on a black leather bench. In a low voice he asked "You're Caine; a member of your team has nearly died from an overdose – what do you do?"

Morgan glanced around the room, taking note of the hostile glances being directed at them. This was southern hospitality? "Restrict who knows what, when and how much. My younger brother died amid rumours of drug abuse and corruption, so I know what a shit-storm a situation like this can turn into."

He took a seat next to Gideon, propping one combat boot shod ankle on the opposite knee he replied in the same low tone. "I need someone to watch my back; so I'll confide in someone I trust implicitly, most likely a colleague with a proven track record of unshakable loyalty to the team and to me personally."

Gideon continued, his eyes sweeping the vicinity. "You've got a history of covering other people's mistakes; taking the bullet so they don't have to. This behaviour started in childhood; a survival mechanism against an abusive parent, most likely your father."

"If the individual in question is female all my instincts are in overdrive; I stepped between my mother's face and my old man's fists a few times when I was a kid so I'm predisposed to being protective of those I see as vulnerable." Morgan took up the thread again without missing a beat. "I'd want answers, assurances that this person won't crack under pressure; I'd want to reassure them that I've got their back. So I find out when they're getting out of the hospital and pay a visit without anyone else knowing about it."

"He's not here, she's not here; you do the math." Gideon glanced up a spark of interest firing in his dark eyes. "And unless I've missed my guess, here comes the person with some of the answers."

Morgan looked up and forgot to breathe as a petite green eyed platinum blonde with a model's face came towards them. She stopped at the reception desk and exchanged a few words with the other woman, glancing briefly at them. Hello gorgeous …

Calleigh studied the two men seated across the room, identifying the older man as Gideon without having to be introduced; there was an air of experience and keen intelligence that reminded her of Horatio.She walked towards them with a high-wattage smile firmly in place, her accent more pronounced than usual. "Hi there, I'm Calleigh Duquesne, CSI; don't ask me to spell it, it's a Southern thing. Welcome to the MDPD Crime Lab."

"Jason Gideon," Gideon rose and extended his hand, impressed with the young woman's firm handshake. "Pleasure to meet you; I'm sorry it isn't under better circumstances."

Calleigh returned Gideon's wry smile, already liking this man and wondering what Horatio would make of him. "It's an occupational hazard; just once I'd like to meet somebody without having a dead body lying around."

She turned to Morgan. "I'm pleased to meet you Agent Morgan."

"Likewise," Morgan returned her handshake with a charming smile. "You're the one they call 'Bullet Girl' right?"

"Unfortunately, does that mean I can call you 'Profiler Boy'?" she grinned mischievously "And please call me Calleigh."

"Ouch," I walked right into that one didn't I?" Morgan grinned back accepting the put-down with good grace. "And it's Derek"

"Pretty much, but I think you'll survive." Calleigh shrugged, eyes sparkling. "If it's all the same to you, I'll stick to Morgan; there's an Eric on staff and …"

"Girl, you can call me anything you want." Morgan replied with a shrug. "I won't mind as long as I can hear that accent!"

"You northern boys are such pushovers!" Calleigh shook her head and rolled her eyes. A moment later the mirth disappeared like ice in a heat wave. She looked at them gravely. "Horatio's told me to extend every courtesy; if you'll follow me, we can take this conversation somewhere more private."

The two men fell into step beside her as she led them to one of the empty offices on the first floor; aware that they were drawing curious glances from everyone they passed. Glass walls definitely had their downside … No one said anything until the door was firmly closed behind them. Calleigh sat with her back to the window, Gideon took the chair across from her; Morgan seemed content to lean against the wall and watch the action.

"What do you need?" Calleigh didn't see any point in further social chitchat and she had the distinct impression that the two men wouldn't appreciate it either.

"We need you to tell us what happened," Gideon folded his hands on the table and looked at her directly. "And we need to know exactly what's going on between to two of them."


Horatio leaned in slowly, giving her plenty of time to tell him to go to hell. He noted the death grip she had on the shelf and the smouldering embers if interest in her eyes. When she didn't shut him down, he tested the waters a bit more; brushing a gentle kiss across her lips. At least that was what he intended; until he heard her breath catch. All bets were off.

It was intense, rapacious; frustration, anger, fear and relief coalescing into a volatile mixture – not your standard first kiss by any measure. Slamming the door on the rational part of his brain with an ease that should have disturbed him, Horatio wove the fingers of one hand into her hair and tightened his grip; tugging her head back and ravaging her neck, skimming her pulse with the edge of his teeth, drawing the skin over her collarbone against his teeth. Alive …not another ghost to haunt him ….

Ross gasped, let go of the shelf behind her and threaded her fingers through damp strands of his hair his hair, needing an anchor. She felt strung out, loving this dark side of him - the burning sensation of his teeth at her neck was right on the edge between pleasure and pain. That's going to leave a mark …Who the hell cares?

"I must be crazy." She whispered, marking him in a similar fashion and revelling in his growl of appreciation. "We're both crazy."

Yeah, one hundred percent certifiable …Horatio felt the scrape of her teeth on his neck and slipped his arms around her waist, pressing her back against the bookcase; the first rush of emotion mellowing and blurring around the edges into a slow burn.

"Let me know when you want to start thinking rationally again." He murmured, stringing a series of damp kisses up the side of her neck; getting a contact high from the scent of her perfume - an unusual blend of citrus and basilHe caught her lips in a deep kiss that effectively negated his suggestion.

"What I want Horatio, is to forget just how fucked up this situation is." Ross whispered against his mouth when they both came up for air. "Got any ideas?"

Sarah summed up his response perfectly.

Just close your eyes dear …


Frank Tripp hung up the phone with a little more force than necessary. Well this was shaping up to be the day from hell … He took a deep breath and counted to ten, then twenty exhaling a controlled stream of air that lowered his skyrocketing blood pressure slightly. God damn legal pencil-necks; insanity defence my ass!

A glance at his watch and his growling stomach informed him that it was way past time to refuel. He left his desk and headed for the vending machines, not exactly the most nutritious option, but he didn't feel like leaving the building. Standing in front of the machine, he surveyed the offerings and made a mental pledge to brown bag it for the next month. Considering the news he'd just gotten from the State's Attorney, he'd be taking everything with an Alka Seltzer chaser for the foreseeable future. Andrews is crazy all right; crazy-like-a-fox …Horatio and Marlowe are going to love this; like a route canal minus anaesthesia …

He'd just decided on a repast of Dorito's and Mountain Dew when the sound of voices floated around the corner. Tripp identified one of the voices as belonging to Officer Carruthers, the uniform who had given Marlowe a lift home the night of the lockup incident. It took a bit longer for the second voice to ring a bell, but when it did, Tripp cringed; Jake Berkeley, former ATF cowboy, now Homicide detective and in Tripp's opinion, a world class smart-ass.

Tripp planned to take his junk-food and run; but the topic of conversation nailed his feet to the floor.

"I'm telling you there's something going on between Caine and Marlowe."

"I was there; she was in shock, he tried to help and things got a little emotional. There was nothing 'going on' as you so tactfully put it." Carruthers' voice was sub-Arctic; Tripp could almost hear the steam coming out of Berkeley's ears. Carruthers one, Berkeley nada …

"Then why isn't she sitting in a holding cell charged with assault, huh?" Berkeley was indignant. "Caine's not a guy you push around without suffering the consequences."

Carruthers snorted derisively. "So she's sleeping with him; ever consider that maybe he was showing a little sensitivity in light of the fact that a guy had just tried to kill himself in front of her?"

"Then where the hell are they?" Berkeley asked in an insinuating tone. "It's awfully coincidental that they've both vanished off the face of the earth at the same time don't you think? And I heard things about Marlowe when I was ATF; like she's seriously warped from all those serial killers, warped enough to sleep with her boss."

"You know something Berkeley? You're full of it! News flash; the guys who spread those kind of rumours are usually the ones who struck out!" There was a sound of papers being shuffled decisively before Carruthers continued. "I'd be careful if I were you; you're the new kid around here. In a credibility contest, who do you think they'll believe?"

The following silence was deafening; Tripp smiled. That put him in his place but good … Let's see if he tries for three out of three …

"IAB doesn't give a damn about credibility; particularly when there's a capital case on the line."

Shit, fuck and goddamn! That's just what we don't need; Stetler sniffing around! Berkeley's statement hit Frank like a bombshell, he looked around the corner; Berkeley had his back to him. Carruthers was looking at the younger man like he was an unwanted piece of gum stuck to her shoe.

She looked up, giving no sign by her facial expression that she saw Tripp coming towards them.

"Hey Berkeley, got a couple?" The sudden tensing of Berkeley's posture gave Tripp immense satisfaction. "Carruthers, the DS is looking for those reports ASAP."

"Yes sir, I was on my way and got delayed." Carruthers put a subtle emphasis on the last word. She gathered her papers, gave Berkeley a withering 'now-you're-going-to-get-it' glance and headed off in the opposite direction, leaving the two men alone in the corridor.

Berkeley had either totally missed the byplay or he was waiting to see how much of a hole he'd dug for himself. Tripp's money was on the latter, and he was more than willing to provide a shove.

"Tell me something Jake," Tripp asked in a conversational tone "Are you trying to piss people off on purpose or is that just a by-product of your winning personality?"

"Something bothering you Frank?" Berkeley's smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Yeah, you could say that." Frank folded his arms and growled. "People who poke their noses where they don't belong and shoot their mouths off about things they know nothing about tend to bother me – big time."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Berkeley's tone was placating; having Frank Tripp as an enemy was something he didn't need.

"Oh I think you do Sport. Here's a little piece of advice; keep your trap shut, because if this goes any further and there's nothing to it, IAB will be the least of your problems. Your name will be mud, savvy?" Tripp's smile was more a bearing of teeth than anything else; he clapped Berkeley on the shoulder. "Have a nice day okay?"

Tripp beat feet down the corridor; not bothering to enjoy Berkeley's stunned expression. He tossed his uneaten snack in the trashcan on the way to the parking lot. Another missed meal but so what? Calleigh was going to hit the fucking ceiling when she heard this …