Here's the next installment. Thank you to everyone who took the time to review. I have no idea why the last chapter took so long to show up - probably just a glitch on fanfiction's end. I've noticed the site's problems tend to crop up around weekends. Anyway, I feel the need to reiterate what I stated at the beginning of this story. This takes place around Season 3, after Speed's death but before Hagen's suicide. Therefore, going by canon, Eric and Calleigh do not become a couple yet. There's still Natalia and Eric and Calleigh and Jake. They do remain friends and they are still attracted to each other but they will continue to dance around the issue. Soooo... if you want to stop reading now, I completely understand.
Chapter 21
Sunday,
2:40 pm
Calleigh shifted restlessly, unable to find a position that didn't ache somehow. She'd managed to chase Eric away for a time but there was little comfort in that. He would view it as a temporary setback and she needed to make it permanent. She wanted him badly but it was better this way. Rubbing her face, Calleigh gazed up at the ceiling. That slimeball had beaten her in more ways than one and while she had to live with the consequences, there was no way she was going to make Eric suffer with it, too. He didn't deserve to be dragged down with her.
One thing she did know for certain, she couldn't stay in Miami. As much as she loved living here, it would be too damn hard to avoid him and it would kill her if she ruined any future chance he might have at happiness. Distance, hopefully, would help them both. Calleigh exhaled slowly and squeezed her eyes shut. Who was she kidding? No amount of distance was going to fix what was wrong with her but it might make it easier to deal with. At this point, dealing was the best she could do.
She'd put some feelers out and see what came up. E.Z. 'Street' Larkin, out of Atlanta, was always after her to jump to his lab. Perhaps it was time to see if he was serious about the offer. A light tap on the door gave her a bit of warning and she carefully schooled her features into a neutral expression.
"Calleigh, darlin'?"
"Daddy?" Calleigh stared in surprise as the door opened to reveal a nervous-looking Kenwall Duquesne. With a pang of guilt, she realized she'd assumed he was somewhere drowning his sorrows over the intractability of his only daughter. After their last exchange, she hadn't really expected to see him. The row they'd had during her first hospital stay had been the first time since she'd left Darnell that he'd lost his temper with her. It had been bad on a number of levels, not the least of which were the memories it dragged up. The only thing that kept it from getting completely out of hand was the presence of the cop in her room. Ever since he'd begged his way back into her life here in Miami, he'd been on his best behavior - if one didn't count the bouts of drinking. As unpleasant as those lapses were, they could and had been so much worse.
Duke Duquesne was normally a cheerful and easy-going man, but he was also capable of terrifying rages, more so when fueled by alcohol. Growing up, those had been the times when Calleigh had gathered her brothers and gotten out before he really got rolling. Once in a while, she'd misjudge and have to stay to bear the brunt of his anger in order to protect her siblings. Her mother, usually lost in her own haze, was no help. She'd barricade herself in the bathroom until Kenwall's rage had cooled or he passed out. Eventually she'd emerge and throw her own two cents in, typically blaming Calleigh for provoking her father in the first place.
"Oh lord, Lambchop. Are you okay?"
Startled out of her memories, Calleigh mustered up a smile, "I'm fine, Dad. You know how doctors like to be overly cautious."
"And run up their bill," Kenwall agreed with relief as he walked to the bed. He'd really blown it the last time he'd visited and he wasn't sure if she'd want to see him or not. Losing his temper hadn't been the plan but he'd been scared and she just wouldn't listen. He was her father, she was supposed to listen, especially when he'd gone to the trouble of consulting with her mother. She'd been like that as a kid, too. He frowned slightly as he looked Calleigh over. At this point in time, Kenwall had no illusions about what kind of parent he'd been but she was his flesh and blood and he knew something was wrong. The problem would be getting her to admit it. That stubborn streak had caused more than one argument between them.
He rested his hands on the siderail and tilted his head slightly, "What's happened?"
She looked away, her hands gripping the bed sheet a little tighter, "Now Daddy, it's an ongoing investigation. I really can't talk about it."
He dropped his eyes and sighed, "I know I've been a sorry excuse for a father but you're still my little girl and I know when something's wrong. I'm not talking about what put you here, I'm talking about right now." He couldn't quite bring himself to look at her, aware the irony wasn't lost on either of them.
It wasn't often a person had a life-changing epiphany, his had been set in motion an eon ago when his little girl had looked he and his wife in the eye and announced she was leaving to go to college. Only eighteen and looking even younger, she'd calmly told them about the full academic scholarship she'd earned and the living arrangements she'd made. It was clear their input was neither necessary or desired. It was just as well. Irrational as it seemed now, he and Calleigh's mother had only been able to see the inconvenience to themselves, reacting with petulance, anger and disdain. What was worse was that Calleigh seemed to take it all in stride and then she was gone.
The hole her absence left in the family was larger then he could have imagined. She rarely called or wrote although he suspected she kept in touch with her brothers and, after a disastrous Christmas the first year, she didn't come home on holidays either. The family slowly and inexorably disintegrated. His oldest son fled to the military as soon as he was able. His other son followed in the family footsteps, drinking and doing god knew what and, not surprisingly, blaming his sister for his choices. By the time Calleigh announced she was going into law enforcement and that she'd been accepted into the Police Academy, he and her mother were reeling from the aftermath of a bitter divorce.
When Calleigh made the move to Miami, he finally took a hard look at his life and admitted to himself what he'd done. After alienating nearly every friend and relation he had, he'd decided he was left with two choices. One would be to continue as he was, which he now saw as a slow form of suicide, or he could try turning his life around and enlist the help of the one person who meant everything to him. Tentatively, he reached out and was surprised and grateful to find that Calleigh was willing to reconcile. Despite all his shortcomings, she still loved him and when it came right down to it, he loved her dearly. Swearing to do better, he followed his daughter to Miami and a new start. It had been a bumpy road but Calleigh had been there for him and now, finally, he would be there for her.
She still hadn't answered him. Well, for once, he was going to out-stubborn her. Grabbing the siderail and lowering it, he sat down on the edge of the bed and reached over to cover her hand with his own, "Talk to me, Lambchop. It's about time I helped you."
She shook her head and he was shocked to see her eyes brimming with tears. His reaction was immediate and instinctual. He reached out and carefully pulled her to him murmuring, "It'll be okay, baby girl. Daddy's got you." He got a second shock when she broke down and cried. Calleigh hadn't cried in front of any member of the family that he could recall since she was nine or ten. Gradually, he realized she was talking. Her voice was muffled by his shirt and he frowned slightly as he struggled to hear.
At first it didn't make much sense but eventually he was able to get the gist of it. His little girl was in love with one of her co-workers, the feeling was mutual but there were problems. Kenwall bit off a snort, he could think of a few himself - not the least of which was the fact that he didn't think any man was good enough for his Lambchop. He and this Eric fella were going to have to have a serious sit-down in the very near future. Calleigh had fallen silent after that revelation, her breathing evening out and, for a moment, Kenwall thought she'd fallen asleep.
Then she started talking again and he could feel her shoulders and back muscles tense under his hands. Worried, he concentrated harder on what she was saying. His face blanched and he felt a sense of horror as she spoke haltingly of her ordeal. That soon gave way to anger at the son of a bitch who'd hurt his baby. She was still speaking and, with difficulty, he focused again on her words. He almost wished he hadn't. It was becoming painfully clear that Calleigh hadn't just endured physical assault. How in God's name had that monster learned so much about their miserable family situation? Even worse, he'd managed to convince Calleigh that it was somehow her fault. She was apologizing - apologizing! - for the hell Kenwall knew he and his wife had created during her childhood. He didn't even want to contemplate the measures that bastard had employed to achieve that dubious milestone. She'd stopped talking again but now the pause seemed ominous. What else was there?
Carefully, he tightened his embrace hoping to convey his support physically. The time for talking would come soon enough and he feared he would be inadequate to the task. The last thing he wanted to do was to somehow make everything worse when she apparently needed him for the first time in years. Kenwall was well aware that his daughter had a finely honed sense of justice, along with the wherewithal and strength of will to deal with the consequences of whatever actions she took. A case in point had been the incident with Milo Burrus and his brothers when she was only sixteen. He'd been clueless at the time, awash in a sea of liquor but Jack Tolley, the sheriff of Darnell, had finally been pissed enough to corral and sober him up enough to hear what Calleigh had done. Unfortunately, his pride for her had been overwhelmed by the guilt and shame at not being there when she needed him and he never spoke of it to her. To this day, he wasn't sure if she knew that he knew what had happened.
His heart sank a little when she began to speak once more. She was shaking this time and he began rubbing comforting circles on her back in an effort to calm her down. The words again were soft and Kenwall had the feeling they were teetering on the edge of a precipice. Fate, with its ever-perverse sense of humor, had chosen the weakest link in Calleigh's life to keep her from tumbling into the chasm. When he failed, the fall would kill them both. Grimly, he gave himself a shake, his resolve hardening. Not this time, goddammit. Failure was not on the table. With a renewed determination, he focused on his daughter, listening to what she was saying and shunting his own emotional storm to the side. There would be time later to contemplate ways of slowly killing that sadistic bastard.
She was stumbling over her words now as she moved closer to the crux of the nightmare that was swallowing her life. Kenwall could only listen. She needed to get everything out before he could deal with it. Slowly, relentlessly, she laid out each failure until she reached the final self-betrayal that had shattered her soul and rocked her foundation to its core. Silent at last, she burrowed deeper into his chest and continued to weep. Kenwall took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Maybe Fate wasn't so perverse after all. He knew her 'confession' wouldn't have seemed so devastatingly damning to someone who didn't know her well. They would see it as words with no meaning, coerced by a well-planned combination of mental and physical torture. He knew better and, more importantly, he knew his daughter.
As a lawyer, he was more aware than most of the power of words and she was a lawyer's daughter. Words could raise you to dizzying heights or cut deeply enough to drain your life's blood. They weren't to be taken lightly. Even as a young child, Calleigh had been careful about anything she said. Happy, sad or deeply angry, she always considered her words before speaking. In the throes of that hell she'd found herself in, he knew she'd weighed the ramifications before she uttered the words that broke her.
Gently, he pried her away from his body and cupped her face in both hands, wiping away the tears with his thumbs, "Darlin', I need you to listen to me. Would you do that?" When she nodded, he smiled and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, "That's my girl." He fished around in a pocket and pulled out a handkerchief for her, "Wipe your eyes and blow your nose, Lambchop. I've got a few things to say."
The door to her room opened at that moment and Kenwall looked over his shoulder, irritation plain on his face. "Get out and stay out!" he snapped ferociously at the nurse standing there. Eyes wide, she hurriedly shut the door. He turned back to Calleigh with a smile, taking hold of her arms, "Let's get you comfortable." He helped her settle back against the pillows and then tilted his head at the expression on her face, "This is a closed court, darlin'. No spectators." Kenwall raised an eyebrow and adopted a stern look, "We've heard from the prosecution. Now you're going to listen to the defense."
He held up a finger, "First off, the defense challenges prosecution's contention that you were in any way, shape or form, responsible for your Mother's and my ludicrous attempts at being a family." He leaned in with a warm smile, "You've always been kindhearted, Lambchop, and I have always thought you were the most beautiful and brilliant person upon this earth but that has never meant that you had the least little control over anything I or your mother did. You still don't. Now granted, I value your opinion most highly but you can no more make me do something than you can make pigs fly. Blaming yourself for my transgressions makes about as much sense as blaming yourself for the sun coming up in the morning." His voice grew softer, "Let the guilt go, sweetheart. It's mine to carry for the childhood you had, not yours. I know I've said it before but I need you to take this to heart. I'm truly sorry for what you and your brothers went through because I was too weak and too foolish to stay away from the bottle. I'd change it if I could. I'm trying now."
He sat back, "Does the prosecution wish to cross?" Calleigh sniffled a bit and shook her head. Kenwall eyed her carefully, "Then I would ask that the charges be dropped on the grounds that there is no basis in fact. Do you concur?"
She nodded slowly and he reached forward to kiss her forehead. Keeping his lips there, he murmured softly, "I am dead serious about this, Calleigh. You and your brothers were and are entirely blameless, you hear?" She nodded again and he pulled back with a soft sigh. This next part was going to hurt them both before they came out on the other side.
Nervously smoothing the lapels on his suitcoat, he settled himself and cleared his throat, "Darlin', you've told me what you did but I need to hear everything in context." His resolve firmed as she gave him a horror-filled look and frantically shook her head, "Calleigh, I can't allow you to condemn yourself when I've only heard part of the evidence. I need to know it all and you have to tell me." She shook her head again and he locked gazes with her, "Okay, let's do it like this. I'll start and you fill in. We'll take it in baby steps." He began immediately, not giving her any more time to object, "The first time you woke up on the boat, you were tied to a chair." Kenwall looked at her expectantly while keeping his expression neutral. Hearing some of this had hurt terribly, hearing it all would surely kill him.
She kept her eyes fixed on him, "He had my wrists tied to the top of the chair back so I was forced to lean forward and a wire loop around my neck so I couldn't relieve the strain. Everything hurt and there was no way to rest. I figured he would do - whatever he had in mind and kill me. Then he showed up and made it so much worse. He wasn't going to kill me at all..."
And so it went. In fits and starts, he coaxed out everything she could remember until they were on the threshold of the incident that had damned her in her own eyes. Kenwall mopped at the sweat on his forehead, he'd long since shed the coat. Holding up a hand, he gave her a tired smile, "Lambchop, we need a sidebar."
Calleigh gave him a questioning look, wondering if he was as exhausted as she was. She'd always maintained that he was a fine lawyer but a good part of that was simple loyalty and she'd never experienced his skills firsthand. Now she had proof positive and as hard as all this had been, she would be forever grateful that she'd unburdened herself to her father. He'd been able to hear all the things she couldn't bring herself to say out loud.
"Calleigh, darlin', I need an expert opinion." Kenwall's expression didn't give anything away, "And you're the expert here. Would you mind?" Baffled now, she slowly nodded. He grinned and rubbed his hands together, "Thank you. Now - suppose you were investigating a crime with a credible eyewitness. What he's seen makes perfect sense and fits the initial facts of the case; but later, as you investigate further, the evidence starts to point in a completely different direction. What do you do?"
She eyed him dubiously, "We'd keep investigating."
"But what about your witness? He's not lying. He's telling you exactly what he saw. Do you dismiss him out of hand?"
"Well, no. But eyewitnesses are often the least reliable sources of evidence. They can only tell us their interpretation of what they've seen. If we had three different witnesses, we'd probably get three different versions and none of them would be deliberately attempting to mislead us."
"So what you're saying is that you'd take their testimony and put it in context with the evidence you've collected, right?"
Calleigh nodded slowly, "Right. We consider the totality of the evidence." She frowned slightly, "We've been over this before, Daddy."
His smile was brighter, it looked like he was getting his second wind, "Yes, we have. Thank you, Lambchop." He couldn't resist leaning forward and giving her a quick peck on the cheek. Settling back down, he crossed his legs and clasped his hands around a knee, "Defense now asks that the charge of collaboration be dropped for lack of evidence."
Calleigh stared at him in disbelief before looking away, "Nice try, Dad, but I know what I did."
"No. You know what you think you did but the evidence doesn't support it. Totality, remember?" Kenwall leaned forward, his manner now intense, "That ba... the suspect broke one of your ribs. That's some serious anger but you were trussed up like a Christmas goose. How'd you manage to provoke that physical of a response?"
She frowned, her brow furrowing in concentration. One of the effects of the electrical shocks had been sporadic memory loss. Calleigh brought up a hand to rub her temple, "I... I'm not... , " Suddenly she looked at her father, her eyes widening slightly, "I hit him."
"How?" Kenwall held his breath. When Lt. Caine had called to tell him his little girl was in yet another hospital, he'd demanded to know exactly what had happened. The Lieutenant had been nearly as reluctant as Calleigh to tell him any details although he suspected it was for a vastly different reason. Caine probably thought he'd bolt to the nearest bar and then show up at the hospital blitzed out of his mind. It had been a temptation but the thought of disappointing her yet again kept him sober. What he had been undecided about was whether seeing her would be bad or good. They hadn't parted on the best of terms and he didn't want to exacerbate the situation. It was Caine's second call that had him racing to his daughter's side.
Sounding slightly wondering, Calleigh continued to stare at Kenwall, "He was whispering in my ear, telling me I could stop the pain if I gave in. I kept pulling away my head away, the wire was digging in deeper and then I realized he wasn't following me. He was where he'd started with his eyes closed and this stupid smirk. I was suddenly so angry. I swung back as hard as I could and hit him right in the face."
Kenwall allowed himself a satisfied snort and stayed focused on his daughter. He knew he still hadn't proved his case but he was making headway. "And then he hit you." She nodded slowly. "Do you remember anything after that?" He held back a flinch at the look on her face.
"I woke up feeling like I was on fire. It hurt so much, Daddy, and it kept going on. I couldn't breathe enough to scream but I was screaming anyway." She looked down at her hands, self-reproach evident, "I was weak, pathetic. He only had me for two, three hours and I just gave up. I promised I'd do whatever he wanted if he'd make it stop."
"You can stop that line of thought right now. Don't you ever call yourself weak. Those were extraordinary circumstances and you were doing your best to survive. Don't go judging yourself by some John Wayne movie standard." Kenwall put his hand on top of hers, his voice growing soft, "Besides, I don't believe you ever managed to say the words out loud." He tilted his head to the side at her look of denial, "Think about it. You'd been beaten unconscious, then you woke up - and I use that term lightly - being subjected to a painful electrical current. You're a strong woman, Lambchop, but I seriously doubt you could have strung two coherent words together. The intent might have been there but you never committed the act."
"Intent was enough. I let that guy win." She was slumped against the pillows, her voice flat. "I would have done anything to get out of that chair."
"Intent isn't enough," Kenwall straightened indignantly, "You know that. Otherwise, half the motorists during rush hour would be up on murder charges. And as far as 'doing anything' - no matter what you think you might have done, I know as surely as politicians lie to get elected that you'd never willingly go through with it. Don't go condemning yourself for something that never happened."
"You're speculating," Calleigh said it without rancor. She couldn't be annoyed with her father for trying to let her off the hook.
"So are you," the elder Duquesne replied bluntly. He leaned in again, "What do you remember after you said you gave up?" Kenwall nodded forcefully when she remained silent, a faint scowl on her face. "That's what I'm talking about. You don't remember that son of a bitch hauling you back onto the deck, do you?"
She slowly shook her head and Kenwall's voice softened again, "Lt. Caine told me that he never untied your hands. If you'd given up, why not cut you all the way loose?" He paused for a moment to emphasize his point, "I'll tell you why. He knew you were still fighting. Hell, Calleigh, you blacked both his eyes and broke his nose. Believe me, you didn't surrender."
Finally, Kenwall was rewarded with a somewhat bewildered look. Holding his breath, he watched as his little girl's focus turned inward. He'd bet a week's pay that he'd reconstructed events correctly but the only thing that truly mattered was that he'd managed to convince Calleigh that none of this was her fault.
"I didn't?" She sounded in desperate need of reassurance, something he hadn't heard from her in decades.
Kenwall smiled warmly at her, "No, Lambchop, you didn't." He was ready for her tears this time, knowing they came from being relieved of a crushing burden. There would still be doubts and second-guessing but nothing that couldn't be countered, nothing that could drag her spirit down into unrelenting darkness. He stayed until she finally did fall asleep. Tucking her in as he used to do once upon a time, Kenwall gave her forehead a gentle kiss before collecting his suitcoat. Shrugging back into it, he wearily made his way to the door. Quietly, he opened it and found Eric rising from a chair where he'd obviously been keeping watch. He raised an eyebrow at the CSI, "Young man, you and I need to have a little talk about your intentions towards my daughter."