"Masquerade! Hide your face so the world could never find you."
The Phantom of the Opera
***
Early morning sunlight, warm as kisses, touched Calleigh across the face. She woke up slowly, reluctantly, never a morning person. Slowly, the events of the previous 24 hours organized themselves in her mind. Her father. Her mother. Horatio.
She snapped her eyes fully open and looked over. Yes, he was still there, his face close to hers but still in shadow. The morning light had not reached him yet. His head was propped against the couch, his hand still on her arm, with her hand still on top of it. He was deeply asleep. She watched him breathe, something that never got old for her since he had nearly died six weeks ago. We take so much for granted, she thought. Her father had taken so much for granted, believing that his life could go on as it always had, unaffected by his actions. She had taken so much for granted, believing that she was just hauling him out of a bar one more time, like any other. At least she had talked to him a little yesterday. An unsatisfactory conversation, but it had been a conversation. The last words he had heard from her, the last words she had heard from him, had been, "I love you." Did she? In spite of the black memories, the drunken rages, the hidden bruises of her childhood, she knew part of her did. He had taught her to shoot. He had taught her how to do her job, even if by negative example. As much as he was capable, she thought, he had loved her. And as much as she could, she had loved him back. She could not love all of him, but she could not hate him. Part of her longed for a black and white world, for people who were either good or bad, not a fallible mixture. She studied Horatio. For him, the world is black and white, she thought. He had the purest soul she had ever known. No, his world isn't black and white, she corrected herself. There are mixtures, unknowns. Like Ray. Things that he could not fully see, people that he could not fully know. He still tried, with a loyalty that was fiercer because of the doubt. And she loved him more for it. What would he make of her mother, she wondered. Her mother lived in a world of solid gray, untouched by reality.
Her mother. Calleigh's wandering thoughts collapsed to reality with a thump. Her mother was flying in today. She would be here, mourning a fallen angel who only existed in her imagination. And Calleigh would have to take care of everything. She sighed. As if answering her reality check, her alarm clock suddenly went off, automatically set for this hour. Three rooms away, it buzzed like a muted but persistent bumblebee. Horatio did not wake up, but he stirred slightly, swimming a little closer to the surface. Calleigh gently pulled her hand out from under his and started to jump up, trying to get to the clock before it disturbed him. Used to her own slight body, she forgot the length of him stretched out on the floor, though, and she landed straight on his feet, tangling herself up more hopelessly as she tried unsuccessfully to avoid stepping on him, finally falling over, landing on her hands and knees beside the coffee table.
"Good morning." Horatio's voice was a low rumble of amusement. How she loved his voice!
"Good morning, but that really isn't how I meant to start it." Calleigh rolled over and scrambled up.
"Somehow I figured that out." He started to pry himself off the floor, using the coffee table to pull up on, stiff after the long night. Calleigh extended a hand to him.
"Now," he said, when he was standing next to her, "take two. Good morning." He wrapped her warmly in his arms and kissed her.
"Good morning," she agreed, and it suddenly was one. The alarm clock buzzed in her bedroom, annoyed at being ignored, but she tuned it out for a moment and just let herself be held. To hell with alarm clocks, she thought. The phone immediately rang. Reluctantly, they parted.
"This is getting to be a pattern," she grumbled and picked up the phone. Horatio headed for her bedroom to kill the alarm clock, and she realized guiltily that he was limping slightly. Had she kicked him in his ankle stepping on him?
"Calleigh? Calleigh?" The phone squawked persistently in her ear.
"Um, yeah."
"Are you awake?"
"Yes," she said. Not entirely. The voice was familiar but hadn't registered yet.
"This is your brother."
The voice clicked. "Peter? I thought you . . . " She broke off. She had called her brother the night before, to tell him about their father, and he had responded with disbelief, then delight, then anger when she asked if he wanted to come to the funeral. The call ended when he hung up on her.
"Yeah, I did. Couldn't sleep last night, though. I think I was wrong. Not about Dad; he can burn in hell for all I care. But I can't leave you to face Mom alone. So I am coming to Miami."
I'm not alone, she thought, as Horatio came back into the room. My REAL family is here supporting me. "Um, great, Peter. That's great. When will you get here?"
"Probably this afternoon sometime. I'll let you know when I have a time on the flight. I'll rent a car at the airport, though. You'll have enough to deal with without picking me up."
"And it will be easier to make a fast getaway," Calleigh said without thinking. He chuckled in her ear, and suddenly they were kids again who had once played together, who had faced her father's rages together before Peter ran away.
"Exactly. It will be good to see you, Cal."
"And to see you. Till later, then."
"Bye." She stood there holding the dead phone, and Horatio slipped over and took it from her, hanging it up.
"Who is Peter?"
"My brother. He's flying in today." She headed for the kitchen, opening cabinets. "What would you like for breakfast?"
"Calleigh." He gripped her shoulders gently, and she turned to face him. "We were interrupted a minute ago." He pulled her against him, holding her tight, running his hands across her back, and she suddenly broke down in tears again. She thought she had cried all of them last night. He held her, saying nothing, just being there. Finally, she pushed away and fumbled for a Kleenex to blow her nose.
"I don't even know why I'm crying for him, really. You know what he was."
"Yes. He was your father." She started opening cabinets again, pulling out food at random, and he added, "And he did one priceless thing. One thing that I'll mourn him for."
"What's that?" She paused, curious.
"He gave you to the world." Suddenly, Calleigh came back across to him, hugging him fiercely. What an absolutely touching thing to say, more touching because he meant it. At least one other person, knowing all of his bad points, would still mourn him along with her.
"Now," she said after a minute, "seriously, what would you like for breakfast?"
"Scrambled eggs," he replied, accepting the mood shift. He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. He really was favoring that leg a little more than he had been.
"Did I kick you in the ankle earlier?"
"Yes." That was Horatio, honest to the core. "I'm glad to have the opportunity to pay my debts, though. I owed you a night on the floor beside a couch."
"Horatio, you don't have to pay every debt. I would have let that one go."
He smiled at her, but it faded after a moment. "I've got to go in to work today, Calleigh."
"I know. It's okay." She dropped a kiss on top of his head as she walked behind his chair. "You helped me get through yesterday, and I never even saw you." Which reminded her of his own current issues. "Horatio, what is going on about Ray?"
He sighed. "I honestly don't know, Cal. I'm going to dig a little deeper today, though. There are a few angles I can work, trying to plug in Susie's leads."
"Such as?"
"Chaz's notebook. I only read the one page of it. I never really looked at the whole thing. I can try to find a common thread in the police files, Ray's old cases. And, on a longer shot, I'm going to swing by before going to CSI and talk to Yelina."
A quick stab of jealousy poked at Calleigh. He felt it and smiled at her. "She's family, Calleigh. Just family."
"Maybe from your point of view. Not from hers."
"Trust me." Well, of course, she trusted him. She kissed him again as she went by to the stove, then returned a minute later with the plates. They ate in silence. He stood up finally, reluctantly. "I need to go home to shower and change clothes, too." He did indeed look uncharacteristically rumpled, and Calleigh chuckled. "What are the arrangements for your father? Do you know yet?"
She sighed. "Mother wants the body flown back to Louisiana to be buried, probably with a marble monument for her to weep at. But she absolutely could not face arranging the funeral, she said. She wants it here, in Miami. Where I can do everything." She couldn't entirely keep the resentment out of her voice. He hugged her again.
"If today gets to be too much for you, if you just need to talk a second, call me."
"I might at that." She hugged him back. "The funeral will be tomorrow afternoon. Can you make it?"
"I will." He gave her his sudden smile, then left. Even with him gone, the smile remained, like the Cheshire cat, brightening the room somehow. Bless you, Horatio, she thought suddenly. I hope we both get through today.
***
"You want WHAT?" Lightning flashed in Yelina's eyes. Horatio stood his ground.
"Raymond's diary."
"You're not serious." She could see that he was absolutely serious. "Horatio, why can't you just leave this thing alone? Let the past stay dead. There's too much pain going there."
"I've got new information. Information that could possibly make a difference."
"Make a difference in what? Raymond is dead. Nothing is going to change that."
"We would know the truth." To Horatio, no other explanation was needed.
"What if it isn't the truth we want to know? Why can't you just find peace and leave it? I'm finally getting some peace with this."
"How on earth can you find peace without knowing the truth?"
"Because you can't know everything. You can't answer all the questions. And you aren't going to answer them with Ray's diary, even if you could. Get over it, Horatio!" She slammed the door in his face.
Horatio headed back down the driveway to the Hummer but did not get in, just leaned against it for a minute. He hadn't really thought she would let him see Ray's diary. Yelina had a fiery Latin temper, never more fiery than when something was personal to her. She was like a volcano, an ice covered volcano, seeming cold, but when it blew, lava scorched everything surrounding indiscriminately. He smiled suddenly, thinking of Calleigh. Calleigh had a fiery temper, too, but Calleigh's anger was like a gun, dangerous and directed. With Calleigh, there were no civilian casualties.
Through the window, Yelina watched him, feeling the usual tug-of-war within her. Her anger was still boiling, but underneath were the two primary emotions she had always felt about her brother-in-law. Fascination and fear. They had been there even before Ray's death. Yelina was a dedicated cop, but in all of her driven, temperamental life, Horatio was the only person she had ever met who actually cared about things more than she did. And he did it while remaining steady, civil, gentle. He had more power than anyone she had ever met, and he harnessed it perfectly, only using it when needed, as if intensity could be turned on and off with a switch at will. Since Ray's death, she had occasionally thought about trying to start a relationship with Horatio, had even made a few tentative advances. But along with the fascination was the fear. Deep down, she acknowledged that even if she had Horatio, she could not handle him. Her weight in any kind of scale did not match his, and she knew it. Deep down, when Yelina was honest with herself, she admitted that Horatio terrified her. She had been better matched with the lesser brother.
Outside, Horatio snapped to himself with a jerk. So much for lost causes, now on to better ones. What happens with an irresistible force meets an immovable object, he thought. No, the analogy wasn't quite appropriate. He knew he could break Yelina on this or anything else if he tried, but it wasn't worth it. He valued her and Ray Jr., his only remaining family, too much. She would never forgive him for it, and she carried grudges deep. He was starting to open the Hummer door when a small hand touched him tentatively, and he turned around smiling to face his only remaining blood relative.
"Uncle Horatio," said Ray Jr. softly, "I'd like to know the truth, too." Horatio wrapped him in a hug, and they held each other for several moments as the curious traffic whizzed by. Everyone was looking, and neither of them cared.
***
Horatio sat at his desk, staring at Chaz's notebook. He had the one page memorized, the final note about Tin Man, but this was the first time he had looked beyond it. Pages and pages of initials, dates, nicknames. This was the best key he had. If Ray was not the bad cop, then he was clearly being set up throughout the journal. Still, there might be true information that crept in around the edges. It was incredibly hard to live a lie in every detail. Sorting out the true from the false (if it was false) would be difficult, but it was his best chance. Undoubtedly none of the names in here were actual names, any more than Tin Man was. But the real villain was here, under some name. Horatio was suddenly absolutely sure of it.
"You wanted to see me, H?" Speed entered without knocking, as usual, and collapsed casually into the guest chair.
"Yes, I did. Remember this?" He tossed the notebook across the desk, and Speed nodded, diplomatically not going into how well he remembered it. The whole department knew about that case and its ending. Horatio out of control was a terrifying thought. Speed had no desire to see him at that edge again. "Here's what I want." Horatio leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "I want you to list every set of initials, every nickname, every single person recorded in any way in this notebook. And make notes of every date each name appears."
"What about that case that just came in this morning?"
"I'll take it with Delko. I want you on this. And I want it done today." Speed was the best of them at tight detail work. Horatio knew he would leave nothing off the list.
Speed wondered what on earth this was about, but he did not ask. Horatio was totally shut down, not offering any explanation, and Speed had never had Alexx's knack for prying things out of his boss that he did not want to give. "Right, H. I'll get right on it." He left holding the notebook, but his first move was to go looking for Eric. He wanted to warn his friend to walk softly around H today while working that other case. Something was up.
***
Much later that afternoon, Delko and Horatio re-entered CSI. The case looked like an easy one, for once. "I'll process those samples right away," said Delko. In spite of Speed's warning, Horatio had been remarkably easygoing today, almost like his mind was elsewhere, leaving a courteous shell behind. He had only really seemed all there when he took a phone call from Calleigh for a few minutes. Still, Eric wanted to stay on his good side.
"Horatio!" Don the DA saw him through the glass and exited one of the labyrinthine corridors that connected the labs. "Where have you been?"
"Doing my job," said Horatio amiably.
"I just wanted to remind you, you are testifying tomorrow. So you must be in court on time in the morning. Without fail. No excuses. Understand?"
"I'll be there in the morning. It shouldn't take more than the morning, anyway. Open and shut case. I have a funeral to go to tomorrow afternoon." He started to enter the lab.
"Yeah, right," sneered Don. "Your grandmother again, I bet. You'll leave court when I'm done with you. I've had enough of your excuses."
Horatio's foot froze in mid stride, then came down to the floor in slow motion. Delko stopped his retreat instantly and swung around to face them, as did every CSI worker within 50 feet, all staying carefully clear of the line of fire. Eric spotted Speed coming out of Trace down the hall, heading for Horatio, then stopping instantly as the electricity in the air registered. The normal buzz of work was absolutely stilled.
Horatio turned to face Don and nailed him with the full voltage of his eyes. The hapless DA had already retreated three steps before Horatio said a word. When he did speak, his voice was icy calm. "I am attending a funeral tomorrow afternoon. That is not an excuse. I'll be in court in the morning, but if you aren't done with me by noon, I'm walking off the stand. This last six weeks hasn't been an excuse either, and I'm tired of hearing from you about it. You will not mention it again."
"Um, right, sorry, no problem." Don continued his retreat. How on earth could anybody look so dangerous while speaking so softly? "Sorry, Horatio. Really." He banged into the elevator, having backed clear down the hall, and fumbled behind him for the button. Horatio was still holding him captive with his eyes, and Don couldn't have turned around if he tried. The doors slid open behind him, and he stumbled in, collapsing in relief against the railing as the doors shut, sealing him off safely.
Horatio turned and caught the eyes of about 20 of his subordinates. "Get back to work, people," he said, but there was only mild annoyance in the tone, and his step was light as he headed back down the hall.
"Geez," said Delko to Speed, who had sidled up beside him. "I guess H is back, huh?"
"That was worth buying a ticket for," said Speed. "Don's really been riding him. I wondered how long it would take. Remind me to stay on his good side, okay?"
"Then hadn't you better give him your report?" Eric nodded toward the printout Speed held.
"Right, I totally forgot." Speed lived up to his nickname as he pursued Horatio down the hall. "Hey, H!" His boss turned, and Speed held out the printout like a peace offering. "Here's the list you asked for."
Horatio took it, instantly riveted. "Great, that's just what I wanted. Nice work. Help Eric run samples from that scene today." He headed for his office, and CSI slowly returned to normal.
***
Horatio stared at two lists on his desk. One was the list of names and dates Speed had prepared; the other was simply a list of dates that Horatio himself had pulled from the computer, dates of all drug raids in Chaz's neighborhood during the dates covered by the notebook, all on rival gangs, none on Chaz's before that last one. What a convenient coincidence, thought Horatio. The link jumped out instantly. B.A. Whoever B.A. was, he had met with Chaz within a week before each raid on a rival gang. Every single time, for a period of two years. No other name came close to matching so well. Tin Man was only mentioned in close connection to four of the raids.
B.A. Initials? Horatio quickly pulled up the CSI file on the computer. No one in Chaz's gang had the initials of B.A. He switched to personnel files, and no cop in narcotics had the initials of B.A. He widened the search. No one in vice. Only one in homicide, and that was a woman, furthermore one he knew. No way was she the bad apple. Of course, it could be a nickname. Still, the letters matched on every single raid. It couldn't possibly be a coincidence. "Who are you?" he said suddenly, bringing his hand down hard on the list in frustration. The lights in the office switched out suddenly, as if the switch were on his desk, and he looked up in surprise. Alexx stood framed in the doorway.
"Quitting time."
"No, it isn't."
"Yes, it is." She flipped the lights back on and came across to his desk. "It's 7:30, and I'm officially kicking you out. You've done enough for today."
He groaned. "Alexx, I keep telling you, I'm fine. Are you going to keep tabs on me all week?"
"Absolutely," she said. "Someone's got to make sure you're being reasonable." He grimaced in acknowledgement of the word but did not get up. She wondered what exactly it was he was working on, what had him so involved that she had stood in his office door for five minutes without his noticing her. She had had a good chance to study him, though, and he was definitely tired, whether he admitted it or not. He did look awfully stubborn tonight, though. She played the one card that she knew would shift him. "I talked to Calleigh earlier. Her mother and her brother are both in town now. She would probably enjoy some moral support in dealing with her family."
He straightened up then and switched off the computer. Then he did something she had never seen him do. He put the papers on his desk into the top drawer, along with a notebook, then fished out his key ring and locked it. Finally, he stood up. "Okay, you win. I'll leave."
Having scored, Alexx relaxed her sternness a bit. "I heard you took Don down a peg or two this afternoon."
"He was asking for it."
"That he was." They exited the office together, and she grabbed his arm at the top of the steps, holding onto it over his grumbled protests as they descended. "You're limping a bit today. Did you strain that ankle the other night?"
"No, Calleigh kicked me." This remark achieved the nearly impossible, knocking Alexx speechless. He grinned at her. "Long story. And you did want me to get out of here."
She allowed him the small victory of piquing her curiosity. She still had the larger score. He was leaving. "Good night, Horatio. See you tomorrow."
"Good night, Alexx."
***
Horatio pulled the Hummer up to Calleigh's apartment building, noting the rental car parked out front. He had heard plenty about her mother and her brother but had never met them. From what he had heard, she really would need moral support. For that reason, he stopped outside her door before knocking (he did not, of course, intend use his key in front of her family). Horatio could compartmentalize very well when he needed to, and now he deliberately took everything about his day, the mystery of B.A., the irritation (and satisfaction) of the encounter with Don, the frustration of Yelina, and shoved them all deep into a far corner. Now, Calleigh needed him. He would not be distracted. His only goal this evening was to help her. Satisfied, he took the final two steps and knocked on her door, ready to meet her family.
The Phantom of the Opera
***
Early morning sunlight, warm as kisses, touched Calleigh across the face. She woke up slowly, reluctantly, never a morning person. Slowly, the events of the previous 24 hours organized themselves in her mind. Her father. Her mother. Horatio.
She snapped her eyes fully open and looked over. Yes, he was still there, his face close to hers but still in shadow. The morning light had not reached him yet. His head was propped against the couch, his hand still on her arm, with her hand still on top of it. He was deeply asleep. She watched him breathe, something that never got old for her since he had nearly died six weeks ago. We take so much for granted, she thought. Her father had taken so much for granted, believing that his life could go on as it always had, unaffected by his actions. She had taken so much for granted, believing that she was just hauling him out of a bar one more time, like any other. At least she had talked to him a little yesterday. An unsatisfactory conversation, but it had been a conversation. The last words he had heard from her, the last words she had heard from him, had been, "I love you." Did she? In spite of the black memories, the drunken rages, the hidden bruises of her childhood, she knew part of her did. He had taught her to shoot. He had taught her how to do her job, even if by negative example. As much as he was capable, she thought, he had loved her. And as much as she could, she had loved him back. She could not love all of him, but she could not hate him. Part of her longed for a black and white world, for people who were either good or bad, not a fallible mixture. She studied Horatio. For him, the world is black and white, she thought. He had the purest soul she had ever known. No, his world isn't black and white, she corrected herself. There are mixtures, unknowns. Like Ray. Things that he could not fully see, people that he could not fully know. He still tried, with a loyalty that was fiercer because of the doubt. And she loved him more for it. What would he make of her mother, she wondered. Her mother lived in a world of solid gray, untouched by reality.
Her mother. Calleigh's wandering thoughts collapsed to reality with a thump. Her mother was flying in today. She would be here, mourning a fallen angel who only existed in her imagination. And Calleigh would have to take care of everything. She sighed. As if answering her reality check, her alarm clock suddenly went off, automatically set for this hour. Three rooms away, it buzzed like a muted but persistent bumblebee. Horatio did not wake up, but he stirred slightly, swimming a little closer to the surface. Calleigh gently pulled her hand out from under his and started to jump up, trying to get to the clock before it disturbed him. Used to her own slight body, she forgot the length of him stretched out on the floor, though, and she landed straight on his feet, tangling herself up more hopelessly as she tried unsuccessfully to avoid stepping on him, finally falling over, landing on her hands and knees beside the coffee table.
"Good morning." Horatio's voice was a low rumble of amusement. How she loved his voice!
"Good morning, but that really isn't how I meant to start it." Calleigh rolled over and scrambled up.
"Somehow I figured that out." He started to pry himself off the floor, using the coffee table to pull up on, stiff after the long night. Calleigh extended a hand to him.
"Now," he said, when he was standing next to her, "take two. Good morning." He wrapped her warmly in his arms and kissed her.
"Good morning," she agreed, and it suddenly was one. The alarm clock buzzed in her bedroom, annoyed at being ignored, but she tuned it out for a moment and just let herself be held. To hell with alarm clocks, she thought. The phone immediately rang. Reluctantly, they parted.
"This is getting to be a pattern," she grumbled and picked up the phone. Horatio headed for her bedroom to kill the alarm clock, and she realized guiltily that he was limping slightly. Had she kicked him in his ankle stepping on him?
"Calleigh? Calleigh?" The phone squawked persistently in her ear.
"Um, yeah."
"Are you awake?"
"Yes," she said. Not entirely. The voice was familiar but hadn't registered yet.
"This is your brother."
The voice clicked. "Peter? I thought you . . . " She broke off. She had called her brother the night before, to tell him about their father, and he had responded with disbelief, then delight, then anger when she asked if he wanted to come to the funeral. The call ended when he hung up on her.
"Yeah, I did. Couldn't sleep last night, though. I think I was wrong. Not about Dad; he can burn in hell for all I care. But I can't leave you to face Mom alone. So I am coming to Miami."
I'm not alone, she thought, as Horatio came back into the room. My REAL family is here supporting me. "Um, great, Peter. That's great. When will you get here?"
"Probably this afternoon sometime. I'll let you know when I have a time on the flight. I'll rent a car at the airport, though. You'll have enough to deal with without picking me up."
"And it will be easier to make a fast getaway," Calleigh said without thinking. He chuckled in her ear, and suddenly they were kids again who had once played together, who had faced her father's rages together before Peter ran away.
"Exactly. It will be good to see you, Cal."
"And to see you. Till later, then."
"Bye." She stood there holding the dead phone, and Horatio slipped over and took it from her, hanging it up.
"Who is Peter?"
"My brother. He's flying in today." She headed for the kitchen, opening cabinets. "What would you like for breakfast?"
"Calleigh." He gripped her shoulders gently, and she turned to face him. "We were interrupted a minute ago." He pulled her against him, holding her tight, running his hands across her back, and she suddenly broke down in tears again. She thought she had cried all of them last night. He held her, saying nothing, just being there. Finally, she pushed away and fumbled for a Kleenex to blow her nose.
"I don't even know why I'm crying for him, really. You know what he was."
"Yes. He was your father." She started opening cabinets again, pulling out food at random, and he added, "And he did one priceless thing. One thing that I'll mourn him for."
"What's that?" She paused, curious.
"He gave you to the world." Suddenly, Calleigh came back across to him, hugging him fiercely. What an absolutely touching thing to say, more touching because he meant it. At least one other person, knowing all of his bad points, would still mourn him along with her.
"Now," she said after a minute, "seriously, what would you like for breakfast?"
"Scrambled eggs," he replied, accepting the mood shift. He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. He really was favoring that leg a little more than he had been.
"Did I kick you in the ankle earlier?"
"Yes." That was Horatio, honest to the core. "I'm glad to have the opportunity to pay my debts, though. I owed you a night on the floor beside a couch."
"Horatio, you don't have to pay every debt. I would have let that one go."
He smiled at her, but it faded after a moment. "I've got to go in to work today, Calleigh."
"I know. It's okay." She dropped a kiss on top of his head as she walked behind his chair. "You helped me get through yesterday, and I never even saw you." Which reminded her of his own current issues. "Horatio, what is going on about Ray?"
He sighed. "I honestly don't know, Cal. I'm going to dig a little deeper today, though. There are a few angles I can work, trying to plug in Susie's leads."
"Such as?"
"Chaz's notebook. I only read the one page of it. I never really looked at the whole thing. I can try to find a common thread in the police files, Ray's old cases. And, on a longer shot, I'm going to swing by before going to CSI and talk to Yelina."
A quick stab of jealousy poked at Calleigh. He felt it and smiled at her. "She's family, Calleigh. Just family."
"Maybe from your point of view. Not from hers."
"Trust me." Well, of course, she trusted him. She kissed him again as she went by to the stove, then returned a minute later with the plates. They ate in silence. He stood up finally, reluctantly. "I need to go home to shower and change clothes, too." He did indeed look uncharacteristically rumpled, and Calleigh chuckled. "What are the arrangements for your father? Do you know yet?"
She sighed. "Mother wants the body flown back to Louisiana to be buried, probably with a marble monument for her to weep at. But she absolutely could not face arranging the funeral, she said. She wants it here, in Miami. Where I can do everything." She couldn't entirely keep the resentment out of her voice. He hugged her again.
"If today gets to be too much for you, if you just need to talk a second, call me."
"I might at that." She hugged him back. "The funeral will be tomorrow afternoon. Can you make it?"
"I will." He gave her his sudden smile, then left. Even with him gone, the smile remained, like the Cheshire cat, brightening the room somehow. Bless you, Horatio, she thought suddenly. I hope we both get through today.
***
"You want WHAT?" Lightning flashed in Yelina's eyes. Horatio stood his ground.
"Raymond's diary."
"You're not serious." She could see that he was absolutely serious. "Horatio, why can't you just leave this thing alone? Let the past stay dead. There's too much pain going there."
"I've got new information. Information that could possibly make a difference."
"Make a difference in what? Raymond is dead. Nothing is going to change that."
"We would know the truth." To Horatio, no other explanation was needed.
"What if it isn't the truth we want to know? Why can't you just find peace and leave it? I'm finally getting some peace with this."
"How on earth can you find peace without knowing the truth?"
"Because you can't know everything. You can't answer all the questions. And you aren't going to answer them with Ray's diary, even if you could. Get over it, Horatio!" She slammed the door in his face.
Horatio headed back down the driveway to the Hummer but did not get in, just leaned against it for a minute. He hadn't really thought she would let him see Ray's diary. Yelina had a fiery Latin temper, never more fiery than when something was personal to her. She was like a volcano, an ice covered volcano, seeming cold, but when it blew, lava scorched everything surrounding indiscriminately. He smiled suddenly, thinking of Calleigh. Calleigh had a fiery temper, too, but Calleigh's anger was like a gun, dangerous and directed. With Calleigh, there were no civilian casualties.
Through the window, Yelina watched him, feeling the usual tug-of-war within her. Her anger was still boiling, but underneath were the two primary emotions she had always felt about her brother-in-law. Fascination and fear. They had been there even before Ray's death. Yelina was a dedicated cop, but in all of her driven, temperamental life, Horatio was the only person she had ever met who actually cared about things more than she did. And he did it while remaining steady, civil, gentle. He had more power than anyone she had ever met, and he harnessed it perfectly, only using it when needed, as if intensity could be turned on and off with a switch at will. Since Ray's death, she had occasionally thought about trying to start a relationship with Horatio, had even made a few tentative advances. But along with the fascination was the fear. Deep down, she acknowledged that even if she had Horatio, she could not handle him. Her weight in any kind of scale did not match his, and she knew it. Deep down, when Yelina was honest with herself, she admitted that Horatio terrified her. She had been better matched with the lesser brother.
Outside, Horatio snapped to himself with a jerk. So much for lost causes, now on to better ones. What happens with an irresistible force meets an immovable object, he thought. No, the analogy wasn't quite appropriate. He knew he could break Yelina on this or anything else if he tried, but it wasn't worth it. He valued her and Ray Jr., his only remaining family, too much. She would never forgive him for it, and she carried grudges deep. He was starting to open the Hummer door when a small hand touched him tentatively, and he turned around smiling to face his only remaining blood relative.
"Uncle Horatio," said Ray Jr. softly, "I'd like to know the truth, too." Horatio wrapped him in a hug, and they held each other for several moments as the curious traffic whizzed by. Everyone was looking, and neither of them cared.
***
Horatio sat at his desk, staring at Chaz's notebook. He had the one page memorized, the final note about Tin Man, but this was the first time he had looked beyond it. Pages and pages of initials, dates, nicknames. This was the best key he had. If Ray was not the bad cop, then he was clearly being set up throughout the journal. Still, there might be true information that crept in around the edges. It was incredibly hard to live a lie in every detail. Sorting out the true from the false (if it was false) would be difficult, but it was his best chance. Undoubtedly none of the names in here were actual names, any more than Tin Man was. But the real villain was here, under some name. Horatio was suddenly absolutely sure of it.
"You wanted to see me, H?" Speed entered without knocking, as usual, and collapsed casually into the guest chair.
"Yes, I did. Remember this?" He tossed the notebook across the desk, and Speed nodded, diplomatically not going into how well he remembered it. The whole department knew about that case and its ending. Horatio out of control was a terrifying thought. Speed had no desire to see him at that edge again. "Here's what I want." Horatio leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "I want you to list every set of initials, every nickname, every single person recorded in any way in this notebook. And make notes of every date each name appears."
"What about that case that just came in this morning?"
"I'll take it with Delko. I want you on this. And I want it done today." Speed was the best of them at tight detail work. Horatio knew he would leave nothing off the list.
Speed wondered what on earth this was about, but he did not ask. Horatio was totally shut down, not offering any explanation, and Speed had never had Alexx's knack for prying things out of his boss that he did not want to give. "Right, H. I'll get right on it." He left holding the notebook, but his first move was to go looking for Eric. He wanted to warn his friend to walk softly around H today while working that other case. Something was up.
***
Much later that afternoon, Delko and Horatio re-entered CSI. The case looked like an easy one, for once. "I'll process those samples right away," said Delko. In spite of Speed's warning, Horatio had been remarkably easygoing today, almost like his mind was elsewhere, leaving a courteous shell behind. He had only really seemed all there when he took a phone call from Calleigh for a few minutes. Still, Eric wanted to stay on his good side.
"Horatio!" Don the DA saw him through the glass and exited one of the labyrinthine corridors that connected the labs. "Where have you been?"
"Doing my job," said Horatio amiably.
"I just wanted to remind you, you are testifying tomorrow. So you must be in court on time in the morning. Without fail. No excuses. Understand?"
"I'll be there in the morning. It shouldn't take more than the morning, anyway. Open and shut case. I have a funeral to go to tomorrow afternoon." He started to enter the lab.
"Yeah, right," sneered Don. "Your grandmother again, I bet. You'll leave court when I'm done with you. I've had enough of your excuses."
Horatio's foot froze in mid stride, then came down to the floor in slow motion. Delko stopped his retreat instantly and swung around to face them, as did every CSI worker within 50 feet, all staying carefully clear of the line of fire. Eric spotted Speed coming out of Trace down the hall, heading for Horatio, then stopping instantly as the electricity in the air registered. The normal buzz of work was absolutely stilled.
Horatio turned to face Don and nailed him with the full voltage of his eyes. The hapless DA had already retreated three steps before Horatio said a word. When he did speak, his voice was icy calm. "I am attending a funeral tomorrow afternoon. That is not an excuse. I'll be in court in the morning, but if you aren't done with me by noon, I'm walking off the stand. This last six weeks hasn't been an excuse either, and I'm tired of hearing from you about it. You will not mention it again."
"Um, right, sorry, no problem." Don continued his retreat. How on earth could anybody look so dangerous while speaking so softly? "Sorry, Horatio. Really." He banged into the elevator, having backed clear down the hall, and fumbled behind him for the button. Horatio was still holding him captive with his eyes, and Don couldn't have turned around if he tried. The doors slid open behind him, and he stumbled in, collapsing in relief against the railing as the doors shut, sealing him off safely.
Horatio turned and caught the eyes of about 20 of his subordinates. "Get back to work, people," he said, but there was only mild annoyance in the tone, and his step was light as he headed back down the hall.
"Geez," said Delko to Speed, who had sidled up beside him. "I guess H is back, huh?"
"That was worth buying a ticket for," said Speed. "Don's really been riding him. I wondered how long it would take. Remind me to stay on his good side, okay?"
"Then hadn't you better give him your report?" Eric nodded toward the printout Speed held.
"Right, I totally forgot." Speed lived up to his nickname as he pursued Horatio down the hall. "Hey, H!" His boss turned, and Speed held out the printout like a peace offering. "Here's the list you asked for."
Horatio took it, instantly riveted. "Great, that's just what I wanted. Nice work. Help Eric run samples from that scene today." He headed for his office, and CSI slowly returned to normal.
***
Horatio stared at two lists on his desk. One was the list of names and dates Speed had prepared; the other was simply a list of dates that Horatio himself had pulled from the computer, dates of all drug raids in Chaz's neighborhood during the dates covered by the notebook, all on rival gangs, none on Chaz's before that last one. What a convenient coincidence, thought Horatio. The link jumped out instantly. B.A. Whoever B.A. was, he had met with Chaz within a week before each raid on a rival gang. Every single time, for a period of two years. No other name came close to matching so well. Tin Man was only mentioned in close connection to four of the raids.
B.A. Initials? Horatio quickly pulled up the CSI file on the computer. No one in Chaz's gang had the initials of B.A. He switched to personnel files, and no cop in narcotics had the initials of B.A. He widened the search. No one in vice. Only one in homicide, and that was a woman, furthermore one he knew. No way was she the bad apple. Of course, it could be a nickname. Still, the letters matched on every single raid. It couldn't possibly be a coincidence. "Who are you?" he said suddenly, bringing his hand down hard on the list in frustration. The lights in the office switched out suddenly, as if the switch were on his desk, and he looked up in surprise. Alexx stood framed in the doorway.
"Quitting time."
"No, it isn't."
"Yes, it is." She flipped the lights back on and came across to his desk. "It's 7:30, and I'm officially kicking you out. You've done enough for today."
He groaned. "Alexx, I keep telling you, I'm fine. Are you going to keep tabs on me all week?"
"Absolutely," she said. "Someone's got to make sure you're being reasonable." He grimaced in acknowledgement of the word but did not get up. She wondered what exactly it was he was working on, what had him so involved that she had stood in his office door for five minutes without his noticing her. She had had a good chance to study him, though, and he was definitely tired, whether he admitted it or not. He did look awfully stubborn tonight, though. She played the one card that she knew would shift him. "I talked to Calleigh earlier. Her mother and her brother are both in town now. She would probably enjoy some moral support in dealing with her family."
He straightened up then and switched off the computer. Then he did something she had never seen him do. He put the papers on his desk into the top drawer, along with a notebook, then fished out his key ring and locked it. Finally, he stood up. "Okay, you win. I'll leave."
Having scored, Alexx relaxed her sternness a bit. "I heard you took Don down a peg or two this afternoon."
"He was asking for it."
"That he was." They exited the office together, and she grabbed his arm at the top of the steps, holding onto it over his grumbled protests as they descended. "You're limping a bit today. Did you strain that ankle the other night?"
"No, Calleigh kicked me." This remark achieved the nearly impossible, knocking Alexx speechless. He grinned at her. "Long story. And you did want me to get out of here."
She allowed him the small victory of piquing her curiosity. She still had the larger score. He was leaving. "Good night, Horatio. See you tomorrow."
"Good night, Alexx."
***
Horatio pulled the Hummer up to Calleigh's apartment building, noting the rental car parked out front. He had heard plenty about her mother and her brother but had never met them. From what he had heard, she really would need moral support. For that reason, he stopped outside her door before knocking (he did not, of course, intend use his key in front of her family). Horatio could compartmentalize very well when he needed to, and now he deliberately took everything about his day, the mystery of B.A., the irritation (and satisfaction) of the encounter with Don, the frustration of Yelina, and shoved them all deep into a far corner. Now, Calleigh needed him. He would not be distracted. His only goal this evening was to help her. Satisfied, he took the final two steps and knocked on her door, ready to meet her family.