Sources: Geoffry Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales; Masterpieces of the Orient, ed. G.L. Anderson
Chronology: "Born to Kill."
Geoffry Chaucer, from The Canterbury Tales:
Now look ye, is not this an high folly?
Who may not be a fool, if but he love?
Behold, for Gode's sake that sits above,
See how they bleed! be they not well array'd?
Thus hath their lord, the god of love, them paid
Their wages and their fees for their service;
And yet they weene for to be full wise,
That serve love, for aught that may befall.
The case was solved, the girl kidnapped by the serial killer was safe. Eric felt good about it. He was still bothered by his conversation with Calleigh earlier, but he told himself he shouldn't be. He tried to convince himself to feel good about that, too, because now he finally knew for sure that she didn't return his feelings, so he could finally let go of his crush and move on.
He was working in the lab when he saw Jake Berkeley in the hall. Calleigh was talking to him, checking to make sure he was alright. Eric was just sure Jake would be playing up his injuries to bask in her sympathy.
Jake pointed to a spot on his jaw, which Calleigh leaned forward to examine. He took advantage of her closeness to kiss her.
This was no small, tentative kiss. This was a passionate, possessive kiss. At first, Calleigh was too stunned to respond, but then as hormones flooded her body she melted into the kiss, enjoying it as the feelings Jake inspired displaced all other concerns.
Eric forced himself to look away. He couldn't stand to see this. He wished so much that he could be in Jake's place.
Later, while talking about this moment with his therapist, he would try to sort out what he was feeling. He was envious of Jake, jealous of Calleigh, angry, sad, ashamed that he was feeling all these things he had no right to feel. He wanted to disappear, and stop feeling anything.
When Jake left, Calleigh's head was still reeling. It had been a long time since anyone had kissed her like that!
It wasn't until she stepped into the elevator that her mind began to clear and the thrill wore off. Eric was looking at her; he'd seen the kiss. She couldn't quite place the look on his face: it wasn't jealous, or accusatory, or even hurt. Not quite. It was the face of someone who'd just lost something.
She looked away as the elevator doors closed. Eric had no right to disapprove of her kissing Jake, but she wasn't angry at him. She was sorry that she'd hurt him. And, though she was barely aware of it, she felt like she'd just lost something, too.
Anonymous, from Subhasitaratnakosa, trans. Daniel H. Ingalls:
Behold the skill
of the bowman, Love;
that leaving the body whole,
he breaks the heart within.