Episode 1.21, Spring Break

Eric peered at the victim on the floor of the pool. "He hasn't been down there long," he remarked. "It usually takes a while for the body to float. Body gases have to have time to build up."

"Well," Calleigh said, "it looks like somebody's getting wet."

"Music to my ears," he replied, pulling off his shirt to reveal the diving suit he had underneath.

The young women watching the scene whistled and cheered as Eric tossed his shirt aside and began removing his shoes.

-/-/-

Things were beginning to fall back into place, back to the way it used to be, and Calleigh had to admit, she'd missed it immensely. It hadn't even been so much the fighting that had gotten to her, but rather how awkward things had become after their little discussion in the ballistics lab. It wasn't like her, she knew, to hold on to words like that, to hold grudges, especially when she had no right to. She'd wondered just why his remarks had struck such a chord with her and why it had suddenly become easy to argue about the most insignificant things. Was she purposely trying to push him away? And more importantly, if she was, what did that mean?

It was confusing, to say the least, and it seemed the more time she spent pondering it, the less she could figure out. Rules and careful calculations quite simply did not apply when it came to Eric, and she couldn't infer why that was, even if it seemed to stare her straight in the face.

At least they still had this; a friendship neither would trade away for the world. Except maybe—

That was where she stopped herself, compartmentalized, because she didn't know if she was ready for any kind of realization, especially so soon after their friendship had been rekindled. She valued it, and she valued how they were able to tease and joke without the accompanying jealousy again. Or at least without the full-blown effects. She wondered if he still held a hint as well, or if he'd moved on as quickly as he'd moved on from any other of his little… whatever the hell they were.

She'd always been strong verbally, coherence guaranteed, and it was telling that she couldn't pin a name to this elephant.

She figured she shouldn't worry about it too much, though. Come what may, right? Besides, she needed to relax. She didn't remember the last time she was out for drinks with the guys. She sipped at her club soda – designated driver, though she usually volunteered – and watched Eric and Speed bicker over something she couldn't quite make out in her state of inattention.

Eric stood up and left the table to get another drink, leaving Calleigh and Speed – already on his third scotch – to converse.

"What's wrong with you guys?" Speed grumbled immediately, alcohol settling in.

"Who?" Calleigh asked needlessly.

"Caesar and Cleopatra," he replied sarcastically, downing some more scotch. "No, you and Delko, though sometimes I wonder which of those relationships is more complicated."

She fiddled with her drink for a moment, debating whether it was a good idea to enter this conversation. "Has he been saying anything?" she asked, curiosity getting the best of her.

"Delko? Nah, you think I need to be told?" He paused for emphasis. "He did say that he thinks you think he's slept with half of Miami."

She felt her cheeks flush, partly out of embarrassment and partly out of irritation. "That's not what I said," she stated defensively.

"Well, yeah, that's not what he said either," Speed pointed out with a hint of obviousness, "but that was the gist of it."

"I didn't… mean it like that," she said quietly, trying to process this new information.

Speed shrugged and exhaled. "He was pretty bothered by it."

She scratched absentmindedly at the condensation that had formed on her glass. "Really?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "past few weeks, we'd go clubbing and he'd barely show any interest."

"That's—" She swallowed, feeling the tiniest hint of guilt crawling into her chest. "He shouldn't hold himself back because I said something in the heat of an argument."

"He values your opinion, Calleigh." Speed took another sip of scotch. "Doesn't give a shit what other people think, but the way you perceive him matters to him."

"I—" She frowned and took a look toward the bar, where Eric was chatting with the bartender. "Should I talk to him?" she asked tentatively.

"That depends," he replied, sounding a lot wiser than the alcohol would suggest. "Do you want things to change?"

Calleigh hesitated. "Change how?"

Speed let out a dry chuckle. "You know," he remarked, almost in disbelief, "Delko does the same thing when I try to talk to him about it."

Calleigh took a deep breath. "I just want him to be happy," she murmured.

Speed shrugged. "Mutual, princess. I think he's doing this for you."

"He hasn't changed when he's around me, though," she reasoned, confusion rising. "We were at a crime scene this morning, and he seemed to be soaking up the attention from all the girls."

"Overcompensating?" Speed suggested. "I don't know. He's never been the flashy type. Probably figured you'd eventually notice."

She sipped at her soda water and took another glance toward the bar. "He went cold turkey? Just like that?"

"Well, it wasn't an addiction," Speed said pointedly, sounding annoyed. "And if he's getting busy with the left hand, I don't want to know about it."

Eric reappeared then, drink in hand. He sat down next to Calleigh. "What are you guys chatting about?"

Speed gulped down the rest of his drink and cleared his throat. "I have a date with some late-night infomercials," he said, standing up. "Later, Calleigh. Delko."

"Take a cab," Calleigh implored as he turned to leave.

"Instead of what, hijacking a car?" he asked over his shoulder. "I came with you guys, remember?" He made a short saluting motion and disappeared behind a crowd of people.

"What's up with him?" Eric asked, pointing his chin toward where Speed had gone.

"Early shift tomorrow morning," she explained.

Eric nodded. "So what were you guys discussing?"

"Just—" She offered a small smile. "You know I didn't mean what I said about your relationships," she approached.

He exhaled deeply. "I'm gonna kill Speed," he muttered under his breath.

She shook her head. "No, listen to me," she said, her hand finding his forearm and squeezing gently. "I'm sorry; I didn't know it would affect you like it did."

He shrugged, bringing his tumbler to his lips. "You had a point."

"No, I had no right," she argued. "It wasn't any of my business."

He took a deep breath. "I don't know what Speed told you," he said, sounding weary, "but I really don't want to have this conversation."

"Okay," she acquiesced, giving his arm another squeeze. "I just prefer the Eric I saw today at our crime scene, basking in the limelight of all those inebriated college girls," she said with a hint of amusement.

He chuckled, running his fingertip around the rim of his tumbler. "They just liked my wetsuit," he resigned, feigning hurt.

"They weren't the only ones," she shot back playfully.

He grinned, ego thoroughly stroked. "But you get to see it nearly every week," he pointed out.

She laughed. "I'm spoiled, I know," she admitted, suddenly reminded of how lucky she was to have him in her life. She moved her hand from his arm up to his jaw, and for no reason at all, ran her fingertip lightly over his stubble.

She picked up her glass and held it out to him. He did the same, and the two glasses clinked softly.