Chapter 7 - Rescued
Eric would always remember as a major turning point in his life, the horrific twenty-four hours that Calleigh had been abducted by Seth McAdams and his sidekick Tommy. It was the first time since Delko's shooting that he'd faced the real prospect of losing her, and that had caused him to realize just how deep his feelings for her had grown. Over the years, the CSI team had become like family, so anytime one of them was in trouble, all of them were affected, and they'd leave no stone unturned until they'd helped their distressed colleague and brought the perpetrators to justice. But with Calleigh, it'd been far different, and far more gut-wrenching. When Eric had first figured out that she'd been kidnapped, a stone-cold sense of dread and panic had washed over him like an avalanche, turning his blood into an icy syrup that struggled to flow through his veins and sending his stomach plummeting to the floor like a heavy lump of lead. A litany of worst-case scenarios had raced through his mind at blinding speed, practically driving him to the limits of his sanity. For an instant, he'd pictured the desolate existence that his life would be without her, and he'd felt as though someone had given him a ferocious stab to the chest and twisted the knife, sending shards of agonizing pain shooting out to his extremities.
It was at that moment that Eric had realized that he'd fallen in love with the captivating firearms expert. If he were honest with himself, the process had started when he'd awoken in the hospital after his shooting to find her sitting beside his bed, her face etched with concern and her eyes filled with something far beyond friendly affection. His gunshot wound to the head may have temporarily muddled his brain in some respects; but, in other ways, his brush with death had made him see certain aspects of his life more clearly than he ever had before, exposing them in bold relief like the images from one of his microscopes. And one of those pivotal revelations had been that he'd spent years drifting aimlessly from one shallow relationship to another, when the woman who completed him had been right in front of him all along. Calleigh possessed the perfect combination of all the qualities he'd admired, but had never realized he needed until recently: She was deeply compassionate (but tough-as-nails when she needed to be), smart as a whip, funny, effortlessly beautiful, sexy as all get-out, strong, and - fortunately for him - his biggest supporter. In the past, he'd shied away from using what he'd sardonically called the "L-word" because he'd believed that feeling it for, or saying it to, any woman outside of family almost always led to a negative outcome. After all, among his former circle of club-hopping peers, he'd only seen the word carelessly tossed around and misused as a manipulative tool (by both sexes), ultimately leaving one or both parties feeling deceived. Plus, more importantly, it'd boiled down to the simple fact that, before Calleigh, no woman had ever made him feel anything remotely close to falling in love. But with his blonde wonder of a partner, this emotion had come as freely and naturally to him as breathing, untarnished by distrust or misgivings. And the thought of having her ripped from his future just when he'd figured out how much she really meant to him, had sent his mind reeling.
Eric's epiphany about his feelings for Calleigh had been followed by an intense anger directed against both her abductors and Dan "Coop" Cooper, the former A/V lab tech who'd been fired after he'd been caught committing credit card fraud by using Tim Speedle's credit card years after Speed's death. Apparently, Coop had been bitter about his dismissal from CSI and, in a bid to get back at his ex-supervisor for forcing him to turn himself in for his crime, he'd started a website called Solve a Crime with Calleigh, on which he'd published her real cell phone number. Coop's rash and vindictive act had enabled McAdams to lure Calleigh to the place where he and his crony had subdued her with chloroform and carried her off. Before Eric's rational mind could stop him, he'd stormed into Coop's apartment, pummeled the would-be blogger, and threatened to kill him if anything happened to her. And a part of Delko - the part he'd normally managed to keep under control most of the time with logic and professionalism - had really meant it. In truth, there had really been no telling what Eric would've done if Coop's conduct had led to Calleigh's death. With her gone, Delko would've considered himself a man with very little to lose by letting his grief and rage get the better of him. Thankfully, it hadn't come to that.
Eric hadn't slept, eaten, or quite frankly, stood still since the moment he'd determined that Calleigh had been snatched. His well-being had ceased to be of the slightest importance to him while she'd been in the clutches of the scumbags who'd abducted her and tried to force her to cover up their criminal activities. Besides, staying in constant motion had meant no quiet time to be alone with his thoughts, to give the niggling sense of terror an opportunity to overwhelm his consciousness.
Thanks to a combination of Calleigh's grace under tremendous pressure and the team's dedicated investigative work, they'd been able to spot the clues that she'd shrewdly left behind in order to ascertain the abductors' next moves. And they'd finally succeeded in accosting McAdams - with Calleigh in tow, at gunpoint - at Club Descent, where he'd shown up to rob the anticipated participants in an illegal high-stakes poker game, but had instead been met by the CSIs.
When Calleigh had walked into the dim venue alive, Eric had felt like he'd been given his life back. A staggering sense of relief had swept over him, causing his heart to stutter jubilantly in his chest. Once they'd disarmed and restrained McAdams, Calleigh had sagged limply into Eric's arms like a rag-doll, evoking a fierce feeling of protectiveness in him. He'd resolved right then and there that, from that day forward, he'd do anything to safeguard her from harm, even if it meant putting his own life on the line. Indeed, he'd do so without a second thought, and not merely as a cop or her fellow-CSI, but infinitely more so as the man who loved her, the man who couldn't envision a future without her front and center in it.
Now, as they were walking back to their respective police vehicles after their harrowing day, Eric studied Calleigh worriedly, wanting to make sure that she was okay, or at least as fine as could be expected under the circumstances. She looked somewhat shell-shocked, but in typical fashion, she was trying valiantly to mask her angst behind a veil of unflappability. Nonetheless, as in-tune to her as he always was, Eric could spot the lingering traces of fear in her eyes from a mile away. Unlike her, he made no attempt to hide his concern when he asked for what felt like the tenth time in as many minutes whether she was okay. And, just as she'd done all the previous times he'd inquired, she pointedly replied that she was fine. His keen gaze bored into her, letting her know without words that he could see through her steely façade to the shaken woman who lay beneath it. She could tell that she wasn't fooling him in the least, and predictably, her initial response was to try to shut him out and escape the piercing whiskey-colored irises that forced her to think about what had just happened.
"Hey, you don't have to go home alone," he assured her as she made to unlock the door of her Hummer.
"Eric, I'm fine ... I really am, I promise ... but thank you," she said resolutely, attempting to dismiss his unease.
"I'm not," he blurted out. Those two little words conveyed a wealth of profound emotions that had been aching to burst forth for some time. "I don't know what I would've done if something would've happened to you today," he continued. The agonized expression that flitted across his face indicated how much that outcome would've torn him apart, and for reasons much more significant than just losing a co-worker, or even a good friend.
At Eric's poignant admission, Calleigh froze in place for a split-second, considering the obvious significance of his statement, and then she turned back towards him. As she observed his pained countenance, something inside her finally seemed to "click," as though she were recognizing for the first time that he was in love with her. With that perception, the walls behind her eyes seemed to crumble and she surrendered to his desire to take care of her, needing it as much as he needed to do it.
"Okay," she conceded simply, prompting the first smile she'd seen on him all day to tug at his lips.
The drive to Calleigh's place was largely a quiet one, since she seemed lost in her own thoughts, and Eric believed it best not to pry, figuring that she'd open up about her ordeal when she was ready. Pushing her to talk about it prematurely would just cause her to withdraw from him, and that was the last thing he wanted. Despite her staunchest efforts to hide her discomfort, he did, however, spot her flinching briefly when the seatbelt brushed against her torso as she removed it just before alighting from his SUV.
"Are you alright, Cal?" he asked, as an anxious crease formed in his forehead.
"Oh, I'm alright," she replied with feigned nonchalance. "McAdams gave me a hard kick in the side when I wouldn't ..." She paused and shook what was clearly a very traumatic recollection, from her mind. "Left me with a nasty bruise on my left side. But the paramedics checked it out, and thankfully nothing's broken. I'll just be a bit sore for a few days, is all. Nothing for you to worry about." She was trying her hardest to convince him that she was just peachy, but he noticed that she was still heavily favoring the uninjured side of her body.
Eric waited for her to elaborate, hoping that she might finally be ready to confide in him about the torment that she'd survived. But, unsurprisingly, she changed the subject instead, inviting him in for coffee as a thank-you for driving her home.
Coffee soon turned into dinner and a movie. Although Calleigh would never have admitted it aloud, Eric could tell that she didn't want to be alone. So, after shushing her half-hearted protests, he whipped up a simple meal while she took a shower, and he even cajoled her into consuming a passable amount of food, despite her claims of having no appetite. Her shower seemed to have improved her frame of mind, and as they ate, she was markedly more talkative than she'd been since McAdams had been apprehended. Still, she limited their conversation to relatively safe topics, unrelated to her abduction. The closest they came to touching on that subject was discussing the Kathleen Newberry murder investigation, which, as it turned out, was technically an unrelated case since Ron Saris hadn't been behind Calleigh's kidnapping. In fact, the stoic blonde seemed doggedly focused on avoiding any discussion of the dreadful events that she'd recently endured, and Eric contented himself with being there for her on her terms.
After dinner, they watched a DVD; some comedy film that they'd seen at least three times before, nevertheless enjoying the mindless diversion that it provided from the horrific reality that she'd suffered several hours earlier. In the blink of an eye, it seemed, the eleven o'clock news was on TV, and Calleigh - bless her adorable heart - was trying her darndest to stifle a yawn. Eric chuckled softly when he caught her fighting to keep her eyes open.
"Tired?" It was more of an observation than a question.
"Exhausted," came her reply.
"Can't say I blame you ... you've been through a lot lately." She acknowledged his understanding with a subtle nod. His eyes darted towards the front door and then back to her, revealing the tug-of-war going on within him. This would normally have been the appropriate time for him to say goodnight and head home, but something in her expression called out to him and willed him to remain.
"I'll get you a pillow and blanket," she offered, answering the question in his eyes. Knowing Calleigh, this was the closest he'd come to getting an invitation from her to spend the night, albeit on her couch. She always kept her fears and insecurities so tightly under wraps that the chances of her confessing that she actually needed him to stay with her, were practically nil.
"Sure, if you want me to stay," he said. As he expected, she gave him no verbal response, but answered instead by heading to her linen closet.
Having gotten no rest himself in well over a day, Eric fell into a deep, dreamless sleep almost as soon as he stretched out on the sofa. So profound was his slumber that he nearly missed the terror-stricken moan that ripped from Calleigh's throat in the wee hours of the morning. But the anguished noise pierced his subconscious, and he opened his eyes, only to hear the sound of muffled weeping that she was clearly, but unsuccessfully, trying to stifle. He immediately threw the blanket off, flipped on the table lamp, and hastily tugged his pants on over his boxers, wanting to rush to check on her. But before he could stand up to head to her bedroom, he heard her walking through the hallway, and a couple of seconds later, she stepped into the living room.
Her utterly forlorn look broke his heart. It was obvious from her red-rimmed emerald eyes and splotchy cheeks that she'd been crying, and her T-shirt and pajama pants were damp with sweat despite the chill from the air conditioner. Her glossy blond locks were mussed and tangled from tossing and turning fitfully in her sleep.
"Bad dream?" he murmured.
The last vestiges of fright from her nightmare had apparently stolen her voice, so she merely dropped her eyes, confirming his hunch.
"If you want to talk about it, I'm here to listen, Cal," he said soothingly, patting the empty spot beside him on the couch. A brief flash of hesitation crossed her face as she initially resisted the idea of letting someone else support her for a change. Truth be told, he expected nothing less from his partner - she wore her characteristic unruffled composure like a suit of armor; one that was exceedingly difficult to penetrate. But trying to fight her fears in isolation had plainly proven exhausting, and, in the end, that won out over her pride. She gave a sigh that was equal parts resignation and relief, revealing her decision to lean on him.
Calleigh's quivering lower lip frustrated her attempt to form words, so instead, she assented to Eric's suggestion by joining him on the sofa. He took her pale, clammy hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze, encouraging her to unburden herself to him.
In a quavering, barely audible voice, she haltingly began to speak. "I thought ... I thought they were going to k- ... kill me," was all she could manage before dissolving into ragged sobs. He draped a protective arm around her shoulders and drew her to his chest, letting her purge herself of her trauma through a river of tears. As she heaved against him, soaking his undershirt, he tenderly stroked her hair and whispered consolingly to her, reassuring her that it was okay to be afraid, that she'd be alright, and that he was there for her.
Several minutes later, a few sniffles were all that remained of Calleigh's crying jag. Eric knew that it had taken a lot for her open herself up to him the way she had just now; to give him a glimpse of the real flesh-and-blood woman behind her impassive exterior. And it gratified him to no end that she'd shared this secret part of herself with him. Eventually, she raised her head and met his eyes, looking more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her.
"Thank you," she said simply. There was no need for her to elaborate, as they both grasped the reasons for her gratitude. As she held his gaze, he felt as though he were looking directly into her soul; and he knew for a fact that he'd never seen anything more beautiful than Calleigh at this very moment.
Eric had a sudden, overwhelming urge to kiss her, a craving so intensely powerful that it prompted a shiver to run through his body. He almost gave into the impulse to capture her supple lips with his, wanting with everything that was in him to let her know how much he cherished her. But, with seemingly Herculean willpower, he restrained himself. He'd learned enough from the preliminary police reports to know that there had (thankfully) been no sexual assault, but he was also just as aware that Calleigh had nonetheless withstood a great deal of physical and psychological abuse at the hands of her captors. The last thing she probably needed was to feel like yet another man was trying to get his paws on her, even if it was someone she trusted implicitly. What she needed now was the comfort of a friend who didn't harbor any ulterior designs on her. So that's what Eric was for her, pure and simple.
He continued to coast his hand over her hair and back in calming strokes, taking care to avoid touching her bruise. She curled even further into the safe haven of his chest, and soon, her deep, even breathing signaled that she'd dozed off. He sat for a long while, regarding her cherubic face as she slept and contemplating the enormity of what he felt for the sleeping woman in his arms. Comforted by her closeness, in no time, he noticed his own eyelids becoming heavy. He knew he'd pay the price for sleeping while sitting upright, with bodily aches and pains when he woke up later that morning. As a matter of fact, his back was already protesting his somewhat awkward position on the couch. But even so, he wouldn't dream of moving in the slightest. After a horrendous thirty-six hours, Calleigh had finally found some peace, and he'd remain still or die trying rather than disturb her repose. Holding her like this felt incredibly right, and with that pleasant thought in mind, Eric leaned his head back contentedly against the sofa headrest, and before long, joined her in slumber.
