A/N: Set around ep.2x05, "The Best Defense." A little drama to spice things up.

Chapter 7

"Calleigh!" The ballistics expert turned her head and saw Det. Hagen trot a few steps to catch up with her.

"Hey, John."

"Where're you headed?" he asked.

Indicating the file in her hand, she answered, "Back to firearms. Just got the report back from Trace about the substance we found on the handle."

They entered the ballistics lab and Hagen sat on a counter to watch Calleigh work. "You know, I called you three times earlier. You missed lunch."

Calleigh closed her eyes and sighed inwardly. Lunch. I totally forgot. "John, I'm sorry, I completely forgot."

"Well, I figured with your old man showing up today and everything, you were a little distracted."

That was an understatement. Kenwall Duquesne was the least of her distractions today, though. Marisol called Calleigh right before lunch; she had a doctor's appointment in an hour and Eric was due in court, on top of the two ongoing cases he was juggling. She'd turned off her phone at the hospital and hadn't checked her messages yet.

"The thing is," John stood up, "I ran into your dad in the lobby earlier, and he was looking for you, too. Receptionist said you were off the clock. Said, if it was an emergency to contact you at Miami General."

"Yeah, um, I went to visit a friend. That's all."

"Calleigh—"

"John, I don't want to talk about it, okay?" she snapped. Did he wake up this morning asking, "How can I press her effing buttons today?"

He took a step back from her. "Listen, I really need to process this revolver."

"Okay, I can take a hint. I'll catch you later, then." Hagen exited the firearms lab and Calleigh took a deep breath before she set up her station and began firing rounds.

This day was getting worse and worse by the minute. Eric returned from court only to process the car in her father's case, turning up some rather interesting results. More interesting than the toolmark he found in the seatbelt was the little tidbit he told her about Hagen asking him to ignore it. Calleigh was on the warpath.

"Hey John!"

"Hey," Det. Hagen said, excusing himself from the two officers next to him.

"I just wanted to ask you something face to face. Did you overlook evidence with regard to the seatbelt?"

"I didn't think it was important."

"A tool mark on the accused girl's seatbelt in this case and it's not important?" Calleigh asked incredulously.

"If it doesn't establish a specific window of time, then—"

"A case is the totality of evidence, and you know that!"

"Come on. That's CSI talk… I'm a cop. I got an eyewitness and a signed confession, and an old man blowing my whole case apart to pull himself up out of the bottle."

Calleigh just stared, unbelieving. "I didn't mean that," Hagen backtracked.

"I think you did. And you know what? As we speak that old man may be trying to save the life of an innocent woman. You know what? I don't think Friday night's gonna work."

John huffed in frustration. "Yeah, well I couldn't agree more," he called as Calleigh walked away.

"Duquesne," Calleigh answered her phone softly.

"Cal, hey it's Eric. Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Why d'you ask?"

"Well, I dropped by your place on my way home from Mari's. She made you a cake," he said. "Anyway, your car wasn't there, so I used my key to let myself in."

"You've done that a million times, Eric. What's the problem?"

He hesitated, not sure how to explain everything. "Well… um, when I got inside I noticed the lamp on in your living room."

That's odd. I know I turned all the lights off this morning, Calleigh thought.

"I heard a noise and pulled my gun...when I got around the corner, it was John Hagen."

"What?" Calleigh exclaimed.

"Calleigh, I'm sorry. If I knew you guys had plans tonight I never would have intruded. It's just, well, when he saw me he kind of freaked."

"What?" Calleigh repeated.

"Before I knew what was going on, I was eating fist."

"Eric," she interrupted him urgently, "did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine, Cal, nothing to worry about… Calleigh, Hagen's got a temper. He accused me of all sorts of shit, asked why the hell I had a key to your place. I needed to tell you what happened, but more than that, I wanted you to know what you're dealing with here."

Eric feared he said too much. He had no right to offer Calleigh relationship advice, but his face was currently a testament to what John Hagen was capable of doing. What's to stop him from taking his anger out on Calleigh? Eric thought.

"Eric," Calleigh whispered so quietly he could barely hear her over the phone. "Eric, we didn't have plans tonight. And, and John doesn't have a key to my house."

Eric's heart raced. "You mean—"

"He had to have broken in. That's the only way. You know I don't keep a spare key. Eric, I broke up with him this afternoon."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at my dad's."

"Can you stay there tonight?"

She sighed, "I was plannin' on it anyway. He's a little…off the wagon…right now."

Damn it. First she takes on Marisol, now she's dealing with Hagen and her father. "Is there anything I can do, Cal?"

Calleigh knew that tone of voice, and knew of only one reason he could have for rushing to get off the phone. "Eric, I know what you're thinking, but don't. It'll only cause trouble."

"Hagen breaks into your house, attacks me, threatens my life—Calleigh he's dangerous! I don't want to drag your personal life all over MDPD, but at the very least H needs to know that Hagen's a liability in the field. He can take it from there."

Calleigh relented. He had a point. "Okay, at least let me talk to Horatio myself tomorrow. Or we can do it together. Just promise me you won't do anything stupid tonight, alright?"

Eric heaved a sigh. "Fine, Cal. But if he keeps this up, I don't know what I can promise you."

"That's fair… are you still going over to Speed's tonight?"

"Umm, actually, I'm just gonna head home. At this point my face would probably raise too many questions," he chuckled.

"Is it that bad?" Calleigh grimaced.

"Nothing that won't heal. Don't worry your pretty little head about it," he grinned. "Listen, uh, are you good with your dad tonight? Because—"

"He's out for the night. Don't worry your pretty little head about," she joked lightheartedly.

"Okay. See you tomorrow, Cal. Call me if you need anything."

"'kay. See you tomorrow."

At least that conversation ended on a good note, Eric mulled to himself. He'd been terrified to call Calleigh; they were best friends and she opened up to him more than anyone else, even Speedle, but with everything happening at once, it seemed like they were crossing personal boundaries a lot more frequently these days.

She didn't shut me out, though, he thought, and she didn't give me the verbal whiplash I was expecting. Then again, since when does she give in that easily? Eric vowed to keep a close eye on his best friend, knowing things probably affected her more than she let on.

The next day a very tired-looking Calleigh entered the break room, attempting—and failing—to hide an epic yawn with the back of her hand.

Speedle sat on the couch, heavy boots propped lazily on the coffee table, perusing the morning paper. When he heard Calleigh walk through the door, he peered over the top at his unusually disheveled colleague.

"Whoa, Cal. How you doin' champ?"

"Shut it, Speedle," Calleigh nearly growled. "Not before my coffee. Why the hell are you here so early anyway?"

Speed knew better than to mess with Calleigh Duquesne before her daily dose of caffeine, especially on those rare occasions when she seemed to be lacking in the sleep department. Usually she hid it pretty well.

Eric sleepily traipsed in as Calleigh poured her first cup of coffee. She grabbed Eric's mug from the cabinet and filled it up before turning around with both cups in hand. Unfortunately for her, she hadn't gotten a good look at Eric before she turned; once she did, she stopped abruptly mid-motion, mouth dropping open, spilling the scalding liquid over her left hand and wrist.

"Damn it!" she hissed.

Eric snapped out of his zombie state in a flash, dashing to the sink to grab the towel. "Cal!" He helped Calleigh set the mugs on the counter before he gently took her by the arm and ran the cold water over the angry red welts rising on her hand.

"God, Eric," Calleigh whispered so that only Eric could hear. "He did that to you? Where else are you hurt?"

"It's nothing. I'm fine," he tried to downplay, failing miserably in his state of utter exhaustion.

"Don't lie to me, Delko."

"Okay, okay," he whispered. "My ribs are a little sore, too. That's it, I promise."

"Am I the only one who actually woke up to come to work this morning? What are you two conspiring about over there?" Speedle interjected.

Calleigh ignored Speed. She removed her hand from the running water and lowered the tap to cease the flow. "I wanna see."

"What?"

"I said show me. Right now."

"Hello?" Speed called, trying to get their attention. Eric and Calleigh spun to face Speed just so he would shut up.

"Geez, Delko. What the hell happened to your face?" Eric's left eye sported a nasty shiner, still a little swollen from its recent infliction. He also had a split lip, a knot at the top of his forehead, and a serious abrasion on his right cheekbone, almost like he'd been slammed into a wall.

"You should see the other guy," Eric laughed off Speedle's concern. Calleigh caught his arm firmly in her grasp as he attempted to escape to the safety of the couch.

"Eric," she warned. "Lift up your shirt."

"Getting a little personal there, aren't you Calleigh?" Speed grinned.

Calleigh ignored the comment for fear she would physically wipe Tim's grin off his face, and she kept her eyes trained on Eric.

Softer, but with the same intensity, Calleigh zeroed in on Eric with her emerald orbs. "Please?"

Ugh, she knows I can't say no when she gives me that damn look, Eric groaned. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and reluctantly yanked it up to reveal his chest and abdomen.

"Eric," Calleigh moaned at the obviously tender bruises tainting his otherwise flawless torso. She let her fingers ghost against the deep, purple aberrations. "Eric, maybe you should see a doctor."

He dropped his shirt and took a step back from Calleigh. "No," he said firmly. "No way. I've had way worse."

Calleigh swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. "Still, at least let Alexx check you out?"

She sounded so worried, so Eric caved. "Fine."

Eric leaned over and grabbed his coffee mug from the counter. "Thanks for the Cubano," he sighed and made his way over to collapse on the couch, followed closely by Speedle.

"Really, man," the other CSI asked, "what happened? You canceled last night, said you were just going home. Was that before or after you went three rounds with Mike Tyson?"

Eric's eyes shot warily in Calleigh's direction before he answered. "Before. I, uh, stopped to fill up on my way home, got jumped in the parking lot."

Speed contemplated Eric's response. Yeah, right. That's bull.

"Delko, first, who's gonna jump a guy with a badge and a gun? Second, I drove your car to pick up lunch yesterday, and you had a full tank of gas. And third," he swiveled to throw an accusing stare at Calleigh, "Calleigh seems pretty well-informed about all of this." He paused for a minute, scrutinizing his two closest friends. "You two are hiding something."

Before either of them could answer, Horatio strode through the open door. "Calleigh," he said by way of greeting, "Calleigh, I got your message. You needed to see me."

Speedle sighed and snatched his newspaper off the coffee table before nodding to H and heading for the door. Out in the hallway, he turned back to Calleigh and Eric and said simply, "I will find out." Then he disappeared out of sight.

Meanwhile, ever-observant Horatio Caine noticed the bruises and cuts on Eric's face. "Mr. Delko?" he said. "Anything you'd like to share?"

Calleigh came to sit by Eric on the couch, and they shared an uncomfortable glance. Calleigh answered for him. "Horatio, we might have a bit of a situation…"