Chapter Thirty-Six
Playing with Death
-
Sunlight was streaming brightly through the windshield of the Hummer, and not even the pull-down visor nor his darkest pair of sunglasses could halt the abuse on his eyes. It was like looking directly into the brightest of lights, and Eric could feel his eyes watering. He squinted, attempting to keep his eyes on the road in front of him, desperate for the next turn so he wouldn't have to drive directly into the sun anymore.
The bright sun and his constant squinting wasn't helping matters with his head either. He'd woken up that morning with a slight twinge around his ear, one that had slowly grown into a nagging, dull ache that not even the strongest of painkillers would've knocked out. It was persistent, and once it started, it was there to stay until it grew to an agonizing crescendo. Just one of the many perks of living with a bullet lodged in his brain.
Beside him, Calleigh seemed unbothered by the persistent sunlight – in fact, she seemed to glow, and it was all Eric could do to keep his eyes away from her and on the road. She seemed…different, though Eric couldn't quite put his finger on it. All he knew was that over the past weeks, she had been smiling more – that bright, beautiful smile that never failed to leave him speechless.
Feeling his gaze on her, Calleigh slowly turned her head, giving him one of those breathtaking smiles. "The light is green, you know," she teased, tilting her head slightly.
"I know that," Eric replied, feeling a bit embarrassed that she'd caught him watching her. Gently he eased his foot back to the gas, reluctantly pulling his eyes back to the road. "You in a hurry to get there?"
Calleigh shrugged, peering at him over the top of her sunglasses. "Not really, but the faster we get there, the faster we get finished."
Eric gave a quiet hum of agreement. "Maybe our jobs will be easy today too," he mused, mentally crossing his fingers. The dull ache in his head had progressed through the morning, and it was slowly becoming more than just a dull ache. Eric knew what was coming; he'd learned the signs by now, but for now he merely shrugged it off. Maybe it was just a normal headache…there was always a chance of that, especially since he hadn't slept well the past couple of nights.
Pushing those thoughts away, he glanced once more to Calleigh, a playful grin on his lips. "Maybe we can get in, get out, and be done just like that. I sure would like to go home early tonight."
Lowering her window a bit, Calleigh gave a genuine laugh, unable to deny how nice it felt. Still foreign, but she was getting better, and really, how much could she really expect after just six weeks? "Dream on, Delko," she teased, her eyes sparkling as she grinned at him. The fresh air felt nice as it hit her face and blew through her hair, and she couldn't help but lean back, sighing softly.
Eric smirked, glancing to her. "What? You can't blame me for hoping!"
"For hoping, no," Calleigh teased, brushing her fingers through her hair. "But for actually believing it's possible? Absolutely."
"Anything is possible," Eric refuted teasingly. "And besides, you'd think that eventually we'd have to get an easy call-out, so why not this one?"
Again Calleigh laughed, taking note as Eric turned onto the street of their crime scene. "Yeah, and you'd think that you would eventually learn that every time you say that, we end up processing evidence late into the night."
"Oh, so it's my fault? I jinx it?" Eric retorted with a chuckle.
Calleigh snickered. "Hey, you said it, not me."
The bubbliness in her voice was undeniable, and Eric couldn't help but smile. He'd missed that; in the wake of Jake's departure, that sweet, bubbly lilt had seemed to depart along with him. And now, it seemed as though it was slowly on its way back, though Eric couldn't be sure if it was because she was getting better, or if she was merely pretending – something she'd always been the best at. Only time would tell, he supposed.
In the meantime, he couldn't help but enjoy it. "That's nice to hear," Eric commented quietly after a moment, affording Calleigh a short, friendly glance.
Her smile faded slightly. "What?"
"You. Laughing." Pausing, Eric shrugged; the words had sounded less awkward in his head. But then again, when it came to Calleigh, it was becoming more and more usual that that was the case. "It's just – it's been a long time…since I've really seen you laugh, smile…"
Immediately the atmosphere in the Hummer seemed to shift. Suddenly uncomfortable, Calleigh leaned back, her teeth nibbling discreetly at her lower lip. Her fingers moved upward, almost as though driven by a magnet toward her neckline. But instead of the round, textured medallion she'd worn for much of the past several weeks, her fingers came upon a small, heart–shaped pendant.
After six weeks of wearing it, her neckline had felt empty without Jake's medallion around it. The small pendant served as a neutral stand-in of sorts; it wasn't what she expected – maybe hoped – to find as she reached upward, but it kept her from feeling completely naked. It was almost as though his medallion had become a part of her – parting with it had been a trying process, but she'd eventually been able to leave it laying carefully on her nightstand, in plain sight should she need to find the comfort it brought her.
It had been six weeks since he'd said goodbye. Six long, desolate weeks. It was time to let go. Resolutely, Calleigh dropped her hand again, refusing to acknowledge the fact that finding the small heart pendant there instead of Jake's medallion had left her feeling even more ill at ease than she had before.
As the easy comfort of the drive had suddenly been broken, neither spoke another word for the rest of the ride. Almost as soon as Eric put the Hummer into park on the driveway, Calleigh had jumped out, kit already in hand. Eric was confused; all he had done was mention how nice it was to hear her laugh again. Perhaps he should've kept his mouth closed.
He almost lost his balance as he stepped out of the Hummer, a realization that sent a cold shiver down his spine. For a moment, he simply hesitated, one hand on the door handle as he breathed deeply. Not now, he repeated over and over in his head. Please not now.
"Is everything okay?" Calleigh asked slowly, unable to not notice Eric's sudden hesitation. She stood a few feet away from him, watching him with a concerned eye. "You look awfully pale…"
Eric breathed deeply a few more times, steadying himself. "It's nothing," he replied, hoping he sounded more reassuring than he felt. "I just…lost my balance there for a second. I jumped out of the Hummer too fast; wasn't watching where my feet were going." He gave a short laugh, hoping Calleigh would shrug the incident off as mere inelegance on his part.
Whether she was satisfied with his answer or she was still uncomfortable from before, Eric couldn't tell. She was speaking to him about the scene again as they made their way inside, but her voice seemed so far away, almost as though she were merely whispering to him.
Inside the house, they parted ways, and Eric found himself in the kitchen. It was an eastern facing room, and the sunlight that glared in through the windows was just as bad as that which had tried so desperately to impede his driving. Now in the kitchen, it seemed to mock him even more, just daring him to try and escape. His constant squinting was building the tension between his eyes, adding to the slowly growing ache that was progressively engulfing his entire head.
For a moment, he closed his eyes and just steadied his breathing, focusing his thoughts around one central protagonist, the heroine in the scenes that played out in his dreams, both day and night.
Calleigh. If he concentrated his thoughts on her and her alone, maybe he could stave off the attack that seemed all but imminent. It was a trick of his that he had learned after about the fifth attack – if he concentrated his thoughts on something pleasant, sometimes it kept the pain from being as debilitating as it could be. After all, how could anything be completely terrible when he had Calleigh's smile, her laugh to pull him through?
Eric couldn't help but smile at the very thought. Through the first weeks after the shooting, Calleigh had unknowingly been the single force that had pulled him through the darkest nights, the dreariest days. During the nights that the pain medication wasn't enough to dull the throb in his head, it was the thoughts of Calleigh that lulled him into sleep, soothing his mind and calming his body.
A wave of dizziness struck him, and Eric quickly reached out to the table to keep his balance. Already his heart was pounding rapidly in his chest; he knew what was coming. The dull ache that lasted for hours, the slight spells of dizziness, the double vision…there was only one thing it could mean. It meant the dull ache was not just an ordinary headache. It was, and would become, one of those headaches.
But what could he do about that now? He had work to do, and if he wanted to get out of here at a decent time, he needed to keep at it. And he needed to do his fair share of the work; the last thing Eric wanted was for Calleigh to put in overtime because he couldn't finish his part of the job.
Taking a few deep breaths, Eric moved slowly about the kitchen, taking note of anything that seemed out of place. But there really wasn't anything that seemed out of place; the kitchen was spotless and overly organized. In fact, there was only one object that caught his eye, just as he'd begun to head into the living room.
It was there in his peripheral vision, the faintest glimmer from beneath the table. Camera in hand, he kneeled, taking a visual inventory of the tiny ring. The tiny diamonds flickered in the light, and if they hadn't caught his eye, Eric might never have noticed the ring, not in his slightly distracted state. Lifting the camera to his eyes, he snapped a few photos of the ring.
And then, it hit him out of nowhere. His vision blurred, leaving him feeling as though he were lost in a dense fog. He blinked several times, but only to no avail. Shakily he set the camera down and not a moment too soon, for at that very moment, the pain crashed into him, consuming him like wildfire.
Eric cursed loudly, his eyes squinting closed as his entire being seemed to erupt in agony. He'd known it was coming; the usual warning signs had all been there, but he'd ignored every single one of them. What else could he do? It wasn't like he had the luxury of taking a break every time his head gave a little twinge of pain. Sure, the attacks were coming less and less frequently these days, but it was still far too often.
And when they did occur, the result was the same debilitating pain. His knuckles white, Eric gripped the edge of the table for support, knowing that were he not already on his knees, it wouldn't be long before he found his way there.
Clutching the side of his head with his other hand, Eric forced himself to breathe deeply, though it did nothing to soothe the pain he felt. He closed his eyes, but the bright lights dancing in his vision were only slightly dulled; in fact, they seemed to dance even more brightly on the back of his eyelids. Closing his eyes brought forth another issue – it made him dizzier than he already was.
His stomach lurched, though whether from pain or vertigo, Eric had no idea. He was beyond comprehension right now; all that he could concentrate on was the silent, repeating plea for the pain to ease, for some kind of alleviation, anything. His head felt as though it were on fire; burning, searing agony. His eyes stung with the salty prickle of moisture, though he dared not open his eyes to let it escape. The bright sunlight filtering through the windows would be like a dagger to his eyes, a pain worse than the annoying prickle of pain-induced tears.
He had no idea how much time had passed, only that it felt like forever. Vaguely, almost as though from a vast distance, his ears caught the softest whisper of his name. Desperately he held onto that, knowing it was something pleasant to concentrate on – how could the soft, Southern lilt possibly be anything but pleasant? It was something to offset the agony that had become all he could concentrate on, and the more closely he listened, the closer it seemed. The pain had not begun to ease yet, but already was Eric feeling just the tiniest bit better.
And then he felt the hands on his shoulders; a grip that was strong, yet gentle at the same time. The soft, sweet aroma of her perfume wafted to his nose, but this time, the pain was so strong that he couldn't allow himself to enjoy it. In fact, it was almost too much, a reality which he hated dearly to admit.
A few more agonizing moments finally came to pass, bringing with them the first clear sign that the pain was beginning to lessen. His grip on the table loosened, just enough that he could feel one of Calleigh's soft hands closing over the top of it, squeezing gently. "Hold on, Eric," she murmured, a badly concealed note of panic in her voice. "I'll call for help, okay?"
She started to stand, but Eric quickly released the table above him, his hand clasping tightly to Calleigh's. "No," he whispered, fairly steadily for the amount of pain he was in. "It – it'll pass."
His teeth were clenched, and though her instincts told her she needed to get him some help, she obliged his request, trusting his assessment despite the wave of fear that had taken her over. After all, he knew better about it than she did. "Are you sure?" she asked softly, feeling his hand shake just ever slightly. A thin sheen of sweat had broken on his forehead, belying the amount of pain he was truly in. "Eric–"
"I'll be fine, Cal," he forced out, attempting for the first time to open his eyes. They were cloudy, unfocused as he trained his gaze downward, to the unmoving floor below. To look at anything that moved too much would be too much for his already nauseated stomach.
He was sick of this. Sick of the attacks of sudden, debilitating pain. Sick of the helplessness he felt as he could do nothing but ride out the pain, just praying it would pass. Sick of not being able to do his job as confidently as he once had. His life had been changed drastically, and there was no telling how long the side effects of that would stick around.
They were getting less and less prevalent, but if this attack was any indication, they were still there, lurking beneath the shadows, waiting for Eric to let his defenses down and fall victim to it once again. Unable to hold it back, Eric gave a low groan, feeling the aftermath of his attack begin to set in; the post-agony pain that wasn't really pain, exactly, but more of a lingering, dull ache that would persist for hours.
Calleigh frowned, gently touching his cheek with her other hand. "Hey. Look at me," she demanded softly, allowing her fingers to move of their own volition, softly stroking his cheek. His skin was clammy to the touch, and Calleigh bit her lip as a cold block of anxiety settled in her stomach. Her heart had yet to return to its timely, predictable rhythm, instead holding tightly to the quickened, erratic pace it had adopted as she'd first stepped into the kitchen.
Her soft hand on his cheek granted him such a deep sense of comfort; a comfort that rose quickly as the depth of his pain began to lessen, just as it always did. It was just that the time between when the pain started and when the pain ended felt nothing short of an eternity. Only partly reluctantly, Eric met Calleigh's deep, concerned eyes. As the pain began to fade, a looming sense of embarrassment moved in to take its place. He didn't want Calleigh to see him like this; helpless, broken.
His eyes remained disoriented, misty with lingering pain, and Calleigh felt her heart ache for him. If there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that Eric didn't deserve any of this. He was too good of a person, too decent of a man to be going through all of this. It seemed as though he could never catch a break, and it just wasn't fair. "Oh, Eric," she murmured, watching as at once he averted his gaze. "You want to tell me what happened?"
Her voice was so inviting, and really, she didn't even need to ask for him to want to tell her everything. But this was…there was just something about this that was different. And, if he were able to admit it to himself, he knew exactly what it was. Calleigh's attention, her concern – it felt nice. There was no greater high than that of knowing that she cared for him.
But did she care, or was it pity?
And that was what it came down to – he was tired of the pity. From friends, coworkers, everybody - he didn't want people to look at him like that anymore.
There was no way to know if Calleigh would care about him like this if he didn't have a bullet lodged in his brain. Would she look at him like that? Would she touch him like this?
It wasn't an answer he would ever find. And maybe, as he thought of the pain he'd gone through over the past year, perhaps it was best that he didn't find the answer.
And besides, who was to say that he still would've fallen so hard for her if he hadn't been shot? It had changed a lot of things in his life; if not for that, he might've still been the same Eric he'd been for years.
Calleigh already knew the answer to her inquiry, though Eric's silence cemented it for her. She'd seen him like this once before, and she was just as frightened this time as she'd been the first time. There was little more frightening than the sight of her best and dearest friend on the ground, his body wracked with agony. "How bad is it?" she asked softly, searching for his eyes.
Stoically, Eric slowly shook his head, wincing as even the slightest movement sent a sharp jab of pain through his head. He avoided her eyes skillfully, knowing that she would see right through him when he answered. "I'm alright…" he muttered, the words sounding foreign and unnecessarily rough to his sensitized ears.
And really, it wasn't completely a lie. He was alright; he knew he would be. Eric could keep his eyes open now, even though they still stung. His stomach no longer felt as though it was ready to rebel against him, and slowly but surely, his heartbeat was returning to normal. The worst of it was over, thank God. Another moment or two, and Eric knew he could stand again. "I'm okay," he repeated, more confidently than before, though he was unsure of who he was hoping to convince.
Either way, Calleigh wasn't convinced. She swallowed the lump of anxiety that had blocked her throat, knowing her voice would be slightly hoarse as she spoke again. "Eric, when I came in here…" she hesitated, watching as Eric's eyes flickered ever quickly to hers. "That was…you weren't okay. You were kneeling and clutching your head in pain. With that bullet–"
Eric cut her off. He'd known it was inevitable, but that direction was the last place he wanted this conversation to go. "I'm fine, Calleigh," he said one more time, his voice steady. "It was nothing, really." Dismissively, he waved off her concern, quickly releasing her hand. This was the part he hated the most about this whole ordeal – the constant concern, the questions, the eyes all on him.
With a deep breath, Eric gripped the table and pulled himself to his feet, finding himself still a bit unsteady, but relatively pain-free now. Calleigh gaped up at him, her eyes conveying her utter disbelief. "Eric, nothing was the shard of glass I got in my finger when we were sifting through the remains of that burned house over a year ago," she argued, slightly surprised that that was the first memory that came to mind. "That was hardly life-threatening, and yet you still thought it was something."
Eric gazed down at her, and while he was touched by the look in her beautiful green eyes, he couldn't help but want desperately to move past this. "That was different," he said quietly, although he knew as well as she did that his argument held no water. Calleigh opened her mouth to refute, but knowing what was coming, Eric once more cut her off. "It doesn't matter now anyway. I'm fine. I can do my job without compromising any evidence."
Calleigh frowned, fighting the urge to fidget with her hands. "Do you really think it's the job I'm worried about?" she asked, a bit more emotion behind the words than she'd intended. Looking away, she took a deep breath and attempted to steady herself, knowing her frustration was starting to affect her. Her emotions had been on such a short string for months now; she was still finding it difficult to control those emotions, another lingering effect that Jake had left her with - another lingering effect with no apparent end in sight. "This is about you, Eric, not the job; and I just…I care, okay?"
Still he remained silent, and Calleigh was unable to deny the hurt she felt at the thought that he couldn't talk to her. But on the flipside, she was also unable to ignore the nagging reality that went along with it – their roles had suddenly been reversed. How many times had Eric invited her to open up to him? And how many times had she refused? Calleigh knew not the exact numbers, but what she did know was that they were irrevocably equal. The guilt she felt as the realization hit her was strong, but not strong enough to offset the concern she still felt for him. "You can tell me anything, Eric, and it stays between us. I promise."
"There's nothing to tell," Eric insisted, wishing she would just let the subject drop. "I'm okay." He attempted to smile in reassurance, though he was sure it came across as more of a grimace. "Seriously." Pointing back to the table, he allowed Calleigh's eyes to follow before he spoke again. "I was taking pictures of that ring down there – it could be evidence. I just – I raised up too quickly and bumped my head on the table," he lied, rather badly. He'd never been able to perfect lying to Calleigh.
Only affording the ring a passing glance, Calleigh rose to her feet, biting her lip as she studied Eric closely. "You merely bumped your head on the table…" she repeated quietly, the disbelief plain in her voice.
Also plain was the fleeting glimmer of hurt that flashed through her eyes at his lie, and Eric sighed deeply, knowing no greater guilt than the kind that came attached to hurting her in any way. Immediately he felt terrible, though he made no move to close the distance that had somehow formed between them. "Calleigh –"
"No," she interjected, an audible edge to her voice. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it is nothing. And maybe it would've been nothing if it had happened while you were driving us over here too."
"But it didn't, Calleigh." He couldn't help it; despite all his efforts not to, Eric found himself growing angry. Calleigh didn't understand it – none of them could truly understand what this whole ordeal was like, and he would say every necessary prayer to make sure that they never did. The last thing he ever wanted was to see anyone he cared about in the same situation he was in.
"But it could!" Her green eyes were unreadable, and Eric suddenly found himself thrown back into the memory of the last time she'd witnessed one of these attacks. It seemed like an eternity ago, and Eric found himself wishing this time were more like the first – the aftermath of the pain had been so much easier to deal with after feeling her lips moving slowly, deliberately against his. Even now, his lips tingled, wanting her once again.
Licking his lips, Eric forced his mind back to the present, and along with that came a fresh surge of anger. "They're predictable, Calleigh," he said quietly, just barely holding his temper at her masked accusation. "I know when I'm about to have an attack – they don't just come on suddenly." He paused, holding her gaze unerringly for a moment, leaving out the fact that he'd known this was coming since he'd woken up that morning. "If I knew one was imminent, I wouldn't have driven. I – I wouldn't have put you in that kind of danger."
The low tone of his voice sent a shiver down her spine, but resolutely Calleigh ignored it, focusing on a different picture. "You just keep confusing me more and more," she said with a rueful chuckle. "You know they're coming, but you stay at work anyway, knowing what they do to you?"
"I don't have the luxury of going home and laying down every time I get one," Eric all but snapped. Softening his voice at the look in her eyes, he continued. "I'm out of sick days, Calleigh. Completely. I don't have an endless supply saved up like you do. I used all mine for the days after the shooting, and appointments with more doctors than anybody should ever have to see. And even if I had the extra days, I couldn't use them. My paycheck isn't completely mine, remember?"
It was still just incomprehensible to her. Shaking her head in confusion, she stared at him, running a hand through her hair. "This is dangerous, Eric," she declared quietly, ignoring the desire to take a step closer to him. "You're playing with death here."
Eric gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. He'd heard the same thing time and time again from his doctor, from his therapist. But what other choice did he have? He needed the money; he needed to work. "May the best man win, then," he replied, only half joking.
"Damn it, Eric!" Calleigh hissed, turning her back to him. The mere fact that he could joke about this made her angrier than she'd been in weeks. He had almost died – still could die, technically – and he was willing to take that risk every single day? It made very little sense to her, and as she turned once more to face him, her eyes were hard, cold. "Maybe they are predictable, but you never know where you might be, or what you might be doing when you start getting the warning signs," she said, the slightest tremble present in her words. "You could actually die –"
"You don't think I know that, Cal?" His voice was raised, even though the extra volume, the extra effort made the aftermath of his headache tingle even more. "You don't think I live with that fear every day?" It was a fear he hadn't voiced outside of the seclusion of his therapy sessions, but now, he couldn't stop it from making itself known. "You don't think I second guess every single move I make, not knowing whether or not it might shift that damn bullet? You don't think I wake up every morning and wonder if it'll be my last?" He paused, fire in his eyes as he took a deep breath. "It scares me to death, the way this thing has taken over my life. I can't do anything without worrying about the ramifications. If a little headache every now and then is the worst of the side effects, then I consider that a blessing."
His words stunned her to the core, and Calleigh swallowed, lifting a shaky hand to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. "You know, I thought you told me a long time ago that the headaches were getting better…"
"They're not every day anymore."
"How often?" she challenged, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Calleigh –"
But Calleigh had had enough. "How often?" she repeated, her tone quieter, more serious.
Eric gave a deep sigh, recounting the most recent attacks of pain. He didn't see what the big deal was; his doctor had said it was normal for him to experience residual bouts of pain – the problem to look out for was if they increased in frequency. But his hadn't. They'd decreased just as they were supposed to. "Once, maybe twice a month now."
"Twice a month." Calleigh shook her head, biting at her lip so forcefully that it wasn't too long before she perceived the metallic taste of blood. "And you didn't think you should let somebody know? So they could watch out for you?"
"I thought I'd done that when I told Horatio, like my doctor said I should." The words were so simple as they tumbled from his lips, but Eric could already foresee Calleigh's reaction.
She wasn't prepared for the feelings that hit her as he revealed that he'd gone to Horatio, and not to her. It stung; it really did. He'd told her time and time again that she was one of his closest friends, and they worked together practically every day. "Horatio isn't the one in the field with you all the time," she said quietly, for the first time really feeling the pain she knew she must've put him through, all those times he'd wished she would talk to him. Were they really not as close as she'd always believed? Would there forever remain a rift filled with secrets between them? "Why didn't you talk to me?"
Eric bit at the inside of his cheek, knowing he was getting closer and closer to saying something he would regret later. "Because maybe it was none of your concern," he began quietly, though the force behind his words was unmistakable. "Maybe you had enough going on in your own life; too much to be spending your time concerned about me."
"Why didn't you let me decide that?"
"Did Jake let you decide that?"
It was a low blow, and Eric knew that. The words, a product of his pain-induced frustration, were out of his mouth before he could bite his tongue, and the flicker of pain that flashed through Calleigh's eyes went straight to his own heart. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Eric wondering if maybe he'd just imagined it. "Jake – Jake has nothing to do with this," Calleigh replied quietly, her tone deeming the conversation closed.
Eric scoffed lightly, watching as she turned her back to him. "Really?" he called after her, even though knowing he shouldn't. He'd gotten what he wanted – Calleigh didn't want to talk anymore. But somehow, that only rubbed him wrong even more. Probably because of why she was suddenly so willing to drop the subject. "Because I think this has everything to do with Jake."
As Calleigh whipped around again, she couldn't quite hide the anger in her emerald eyes. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest, the mere mention of his name catching her completely off guard. "There is nothing about this – this situation that is about Jake," she said quietly, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. "This is about you –"
"And why I didn't talk to you?" Eric finished, more venom in his voice than he had intended. "See, that is exactly where Jake fits into this." He paused, taking in the expressions, the emotions flitting across Calleigh's face. He was definitely treading on thin – if not already broken – ice. But he still couldn't help the bitterness he harbored for the other man, for everything he had done to Calleigh. She didn't deserve to hurt.
What he didn't comprehend though in that moment, was that he was doing the exact same thing to her with his words. "Why is it okay when Jake doesn't tell you the whole story?" Calleigh's face paled almost imperceptibly, and Eric's heart ached. He wanted to apologize, but in his current state of frustration, his anger won out. "Why is it okay for him to lie to you, to beat around the bush with you, to all but abandon you when it gets too much for him? Why is it okay for him to have his secrets, but everything about me has to be out in the open?"
For a moment, Calleigh was silent, his words hitting her square in the chest. "That's not fair, Eric," she said quietly, her mouth dry. She was stunned at his accusations; that was the only word for it. Her heart was aching, burning, tearing as she felt a wound reopened again, one that she was still unable to suture completely.
"Isn't it?" he shot back, his own heart pounding so loudly that it echoed angrily in his ears. "His secrets are the ones you should be worried about, because they hurt you. He's the one who should've been telling you everything, and he didn't. I know he lied to you, Calleigh, more than once. I just want to know why that's okay. Why am I the only one who isn't allowed to keep something private?"
And for that, Calleigh had no answer. Eyes downcast, she bit at her lip, unable not to concede to Eric's point. "I'm sorry, Eric…" she murmured, only barely audible. "I just…"
"Calleigh." And now his voice had softened as well. "This is hard enough to deal with on my own," he admitted, shuffling his feet slightly. "If it was something that I thought – you know, something that would ever actually…affect you, I would tell you. You know that."
Calleigh lifted her eyes, no longer bothering to hide the hurt found within. "You don't think it would affect me if – if something happened and you just…suddenly collapsed and…" she shuddered, unable to finish as the memory of one of her many nightmares came back to haunt her.
Eric took a slow step toward her, suddenly feeling more guilty than he had in a long time. "Cal…"
"No, you're – you're right," Calleigh interrupted, and to Eric's dismay, she took a step back. "It's just that, when I came in here and saw you doubled over like that, I immediately thought…" she trailed off, but Eric didn't need her to continue to know what she had thought. She hesitated, and it was all Eric could do not to move forward and take her into his arms. She looked so vulnerable to him right now, and every last piece of his anger had completely melted away. "I just – I was just worried, okay? And I –" Again she hesitated, her gaze drifting slowly toward the door and away from him, and Eric knew she was planning her escape.
Shaking her head, Calleigh gave a sheepish smile before reaching up to tuck a lock of blonde behind her ear. Eric knew she was fighting an internal battle, though it wasn't apparent to him what that battle was – fight or flight seemed to be a major component of it, though.
The distance between them seemed to have grown tenfold – when had Calleigh moved so dangerously close to the doorway? Her arms remained crossed tightly over her chest, and she refused to meet Eric's eyes. For a moment, she simply steadied herself, and when she spoke again, her voice was quiet and reserved. Her words, however, rang loud and clear in Eric's ears.
"I just - I don't know what I would do without you in my life."
And before Eric could even begin to formulate a response, Calleigh had disappeared from the kitchen, leaving behind only the soft scent of her perfume and the continuous echo of her heartfelt admission.