Well this is overdue... I'm so sorry for the wait. I've had a pretty bad case of writer's block all summer, and that combined with this inability I now have to sit at my computer for any amount of time at all has made it pretty hard to get any writing done. I finally made a breakthrough and finished this chapter, though. I'll definitely keep trying to write more. I hope you're all still interested and enjoy the chapter. Things are starting to move along...

Eric should've been satisfied – pleased, even. At his one-week post-op appointment, his doctor had quickly and easily run through all of the required checks. He had no lasting remnants of the injury or the surgery. The incision was healing quickly. His vision was fine this time around.

But instead of leaving the hospital assuredly, he was instead making his way through the emergency trauma wing in search of a certain room. 138. It was open, so he stepped into the doorway and waited a moment until Alexx's eyes lifted from the paperwork on her desk. She smiled knowingly almost as though she'd been expecting to find him there.

"Eric." She motioned for him to sit down. "How are you doing?"

"Not bad." Shrugging, he smiled, albeit not with the same warmth she was used to. "How about you?"

"Swamped with discharge paperwork," she said, looking down pointedly, "but pretty good otherwise. How was your post-op appointment?"

"It went really well," he told her halfheartedly. "No sign of infection, I passed all the vision tests, the headaches are bearable…"

Alexx smiled cautiously. "And your memory?"

He paused, pushing his lips together and focusing on the wall beside her. "That's why I came to see you. Dr. Callahan says it's normal to never recover them…"

Alexx nodded along with his words, though her eyes held much more sympathy than his own doctor's had. She knew how much he had to be hurting. Not only was a CSI's memory invaluable, but currently Eric's lack of it was preventing him from clearing his name – and he wasn't the kind of person who could deal with a tarnished reputation.

"He's right," she admitted regretfully. "When some people undergo a trauma, as that part of the brain heals they begin to remember what they'd lost. But for most people, even once they're fully healed they never regain those memories. It's very common. You just…try to move on from what you lost," she offered delicately, not yet knowing what she was dealing with. "Create new memories."

Eric exhaled impatiently, still battling the decision to bring to life what felt like a dream. It was Calleigh, he was sure. And these felt different than the silly dreams he'd had of her in the past. They felt real.

"Actually, I get these…flashes," he admitted, shaking his head in confusion. "At first I thought they were dreams, but I'm pretty sure they're real. They're strong, and most of the time it's like something triggers it."

Alexx's brows furrowed as she studied him. "How detailed?"

"Very." Eric swallowed hard, any awkwardness colored over by his desperation to know what was going on. "But they're short and scattered."

"Well, you know our most powerful and meaningful memories can be triggered by sensory information – scents, sights, touching an object or a person… It's just different now because you don't know what memory you're attaching it to. You don't have the whole memory."

Eric nodded along, but then shrugged. "So what do I do? Is there any way to help remember the complete memories?"

"I don't know," Alexx admitted. "Off the record here, not as a doctor…when something triggers these flashes, don't run from it. Pay attention to the details, and ask whoever is involved for more information. Maybe if you dive headlong into the memory instead of tiptoeing around it, more will come to you and you can understand what happened."

He smiled sadly. If only that ordeal was the least of his problems… Diving headlong into the mess of a relationship between he and Calleigh seemed utterly impossible, as was asking her questions about flashes of intimate memories he wasn't sure he could trust.

But the conversation had at least given him a shred of hope. It was only logical that such memories would come back to him at the sight of her things in his home, at the sight of her in his home. His most powerful and meaningful memories apparently involved Calleigh…

"So you definitely think they're real?"

"You don't?" She raised a brow.

Sighing, Eric thought about it for a moment, remembering the feel of her skin beneath his, the ease in her smile… "Some of it is just hard to believe."

Suddenly, she understood just how important these particular memories were.

Alexx had known. She knew the moment she'd seen the raw worry in Calleigh's eyes at the hospital, and she'd confirmed it when Calleigh's desperation over his memory loss turned into a regretful acceptance of the circumstances. Not only had he lost his grasp on knowing what he'd done, but he'd also lost an entire romantic relationship as well – a very important one, by the looks of it.

And now he was being haunted by remnants of memories too significant to be lost.

In return, she uttered, "Some of it must be hard to forget."

It was strange how, even after everything had changed, the sound of him coming home was still familiar. He had a key to her place again, yet it was for completely different reasons. Protection. Care. Reassurance that he was okay…

She continued to aimlessly rotate the cup of tea along the surface of her kitchen table, all too aware of his presence behind her.

"Hey." He noted her relaxed clothing and simple ponytail, but her cloudy eyes took precedence. She seemed deep in thought – not upset, yet not content either. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just thinking."

Somehow, he knew just how to see through her these days, and for once she seemed mostly honest when she claimed she was fine. He pulled up a chair adjacent to her, fully knowing she was studying him with apprehension. She didn't particularly want to make this a habit…this sitting down and talking thing.

But that didn't explain why she asked, "How was your appointment?"

"Fine." He shrugged, attempting to brush it aside discreetly. "Everything's going well. No complications."

"Don't sound so thrilled," she said, noting his defeated tone and distracted eyes.

"I am." He smiled in an attempt to convince her, the gesture even entering his eyes for just a moment at her concern. "You sure you're okay, though?" It wasn't often he discovered Calleigh idling aimlessly.

"Yeah, but you're not…" She was either behind honest or didn't want to talk about it, so either way he conceded, a heavy sigh escaping his lips.

"It's just this whole memory thing." He rested his forearms on the table, now fixed in his own state of contemplation. "I just wish I could fill in all the blanks – and there are a lot of blanks."

Calleigh smiled sympathetically, her guard still in place. "It must be hard to not know what happened…to not be able to defend yourself."

It wasn't really what he'd even been focusing on, but he nodded softly. Even if he couldn't share the details with her, he could at least share the frustration.

"Did your doctor say anything about the memory loss?" she asked gently.

"Same old story…some people regain the time they lost, some people don't." Eric shrugged, shaking his head. "My scans look really good and everything appears to be healing quickly, but I just…want to remember everything, and I can't."

Her hand instinctively moved to cover his, her palm warm from hugging the mug of tea. Fingers curving around his hand, she offered him the smallest comfort, and yet it seemed monumental. Her hand was purposely touching his, her eyes taking in the way her hand wrapped around his, the lights and darks of their skin contrasting.

"I can't imagine losing four months of my life," she admitted in a voice so soft he'd only remembered her using it once before: when he was in the hospital. "I'm sorry, Eric… I wish I could help more."

She meant that in a lot of ways, he knew…wished she could fill in the blanks without putting words or ideas into his head, wished she could wholeheartedly trust him with her version of what had happened that day, wished she could somehow overcome the insurmountable pain and tell him what had happened between them, what had developed and come undone over the past several months. She couldn't do any of that, but as her skin touched his a sense of it all came back to him.

He'd felt it in the hospital before, when her touch and her voice drew forth emotions he couldn't explain, feelings that seemed far too strong for where he thought their relationship had left off. And soon his mind was reeling with inexplicable images, touches, and words again.

A kitchen still surrounded them, but this time it was his. She'd apparently pulled him close because her back was to the counter, her hands tugging his so his body remained within inches of hers. He could feel the warmth radiating from her, could feel her fingers dancing with his.

"I just don't know if I can trust him," fell from his lips with a hint of guilt that battled the comfort she was providing.

"Why do you seem so guilty about that?" she questioned softly, thumb smoothing over the back of his. "You don't have to trust him. You don't have any reason to."

"He's family," Eric muttered disbelievingly. "He risked a lot showing up like that to prove my citizenship…"

"He's only family by blood. He didn't stick around, so don't feel guilty for not trusting him… He has to earn it."

He breathed in deeply, her reassurance washing over him as the hint of a mischievous smile crossed his features. "Is that how I got yours?"

Letting out a quiet laugh, she looked off to the side and grinned. Her fingers roamed over his hands until she'd tucked his palms against hers, using their hands as leverage to push herself closer to his height.

"Maybe…" she whispered teasingly against his lips before pressing her mouth to his. "But I knew I could trust you."

Eric returned the favor, leaning into her body as he lowered his lips to hers. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers gradually moving to cup the back of his head. She grazed her hand over his short hair soothingly, providing a sense of ease and comfort he hadn't anticipated. It overwhelmed him completely – the feel of her against him, of his lips against her own, the notion that intimate moments like this between them might have been frequent and casual, though still treasured.

"You'll figure Sharova out," she assured, and for once he didn't feel completely on edge about his biological father. She had this way of calming his nerves – or sometimes his temper – that he couldn't quite explain. He could only rest his forehead against hers, sigh contentedly, and stare back into her green eyes.

Swallowing hard, Eric met her eyes, for a moment mixing past with present, or dream with reality. Calleigh held his gaze for just a moment, until a simple touch had shifted from comfort to familiarity, from friendship to much more.

She slowly let her fingertips slip from his skin, wondering how they'd made it to that brink so easily again. Each time she pulled back and made a conscious effort to remain at a distance, somehow she was innocently drawn back again only to find herself quickly in too deep. Letting out an almost inaudible, controlled breath of air, she shifted in her chair and grasped the mug tightly in her hands.

"I'm going to go relax a bit before bed," she told him as she stood, walked the length of the kitchen, and placed her mug in the dishwasher. "I think there are leftovers in the fridge still if you're hungry. Just help yourself to anything here."

"I will. Thanks." He watched her every move, seeing the tension in her walk as she stepped through the doorway. "Calleigh?"

She stopped, fingers landing on the doorframe as she turned back to him. He almost hadn't been aware of her name leaving his lips, and now that she was facing him, whatever urge had come over him was quickly squelched by the intensity of her green eyes on him.

But he had to know. And she deserved to know whatever it was he remembered, or didn't remember… The details were fuzzy, but the memory was vivid. He could recall the feelings and the flashes so easily.

"Do you have a tattoo of a gun?"

The confusion – and worry – in her eyes was immediate. All this time she thought she'd been helping out an Eric who remembered none of their relationship – making conversation, brushing by him in the hall, living within the same walls as him. In a way, it had made their current situation easier. She could carry on as if it hadn't happened, could avoid the pain and the awkwardness of shared intimate memories.

The thought that he might have some recollection of any of it changed everything.

"How do you know that?" she asked, her brows furrowing as her eyes searched his for answers. "Do you remember?"

Eric simply stared back at her, overwhelmed by the confirmation that every flash and feeling had undeniably been a memory – a reality.