"Wishing you were somehow here again,
Knowing we must say goodbye."
Phantom of the Opera
***
Calleigh opened the door hopefully. Sometimes hopes are fulfilled. "Horatio! Come on in. We were just about to eat. Have you eaten anything yet?" As he moved past her to let her shut the door, she whispered, for his ears alone, "The cavalry arrives." She closed the door and turned back to face the room, briskly formal again. "Mother, Peter, this is Horatio Caine. I'll get another plate." She bustled into the kitchen, and the remaining three people in the room sized up each other.
Calleigh's mother was a large, soft woman with beagle eyes. Of course, the circumstances were abysmal, but Horatio suddenly felt that she never smiled much, spent her whole life in mourning. She held out one hand like a deposed princess, and he utterly charmed her by taking it and bowing formally. "Wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Hayes." He did not add that he had heard a lot about her. None of it had been good.
Peter was a different type altogether. Thin, dark as his sister was fair, with a feeling of strained restlessness. He was as jumpy as a cat in a strange house. Unsure of his welcome with Calleigh, maybe? Horatio knew that Peter had run away when Calleigh was 12 and he was 14. They had communicated tersely with cards and occasional calls, but there was no real sense of family. Yet he had come to be there for Calleigh now, he said. Maybe it was just his father who had kept him away. Still, he could have seen his sister often enough without contact with his father. Coming was a good step, though, Horatio thought, and Peter's eyes, unlike his mother's, seemed totally grounded in reality. Horatio was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
As they shook hands, Peter tried to size up Calleigh's boss. Horatio was absolutely the most self-assured man he had ever seen, without coming off as arrogant. The eyes were warm but magnetic. This was a strong man, Peter realized, someone who was used to taking the lead. What intrigued him, though, was Calleigh's reaction to him. The electricity was unmistakable. She had started glowing the minute she let him in. Now, as she came back from the kitchen, the same response was there, like a cat purring softly to itself just because the favored person is nearby. In fact, the first thing Peter had noticed when he arrived that afternoon, beneath the overlying sadness, was how happy Calleigh had looked. Now he suddenly knew why. And it bothered him, challenged him, worried him. Are you good enough for her, he wondered, studying this tall redhead. She's been through so much from men. You be careful with her heart.
"Peter, Mother, let's eat." Horatio wasn't left out of that invitation; her eyes had included him and in fact placed him first. They all trooped to the kitchen and settled around the table.
Mrs. Hayes started the conversation. In fact, she dominated it. "Mr. Caine, it is so thoughtful of you to come to express your sympathies at this time. We have had such a tremendous loss, you know. My husband was an utter angel. He touched so many people's lives." Calleigh half choked on a sip of wine. "Yes, he was the sweetest man. But of course, you know that. You met him."
"Yes, I knew him." Horatio managed to sound neutral. Calleigh and Peter were both impressed.
"Then you understand. Such a sense of duty, such a sense of his family." She refilled her wine glass. "We never will be able to replace him." She rambled on throughout the meal, drinking more than a bottle of wine completely on her own in the course of it. Calleigh knew it was useless to stop her and made no effort to try. In fact, the sooner her mother collapsed into a drunken sleep tonight, the sooner the rest of them would stop having to listen to her. She watched Horatio, unaware that Peter was watching her. Horatio was at his courtly best tonight, and her mother, convinced she had found a sounding board who really appreciated her deification of her late husband, rattled on happily. Of course, he probably was 1000 miles away mentally, but he was the picture of alert, kind attention. She stretched out a foot under the table, stroking his leg lightly with it, thanking him for taking the pressure of responsive listening off her for this meal, at least. His eyes met hers with a pure sympathy that melted her. Then he immediately looked back to her mother again.
Peter was impressed in spite of himself. This Horatio Caine could not be taking this glorified, half-drunken obituary seriously. No one could. But few people could have pretended so well. He was deliberately drawing her mother's attention to give Calleigh a break. Thoughtful, Peter added to his mental inventory of Calleigh's boss. Maybe he could give you thoughtfulness lessons, Peter, he told himself. His own thoughts tracked off miles away from the room into the past, and he ate absentmindedly.
After dinner, the group moved to the living room for more of the same. It was almost 10:00 when Mrs. Hayes, who was no longer speaking distinctly, began to trail off in her sentences, like a music box that is winding down. "Mother, you'd better get to bed," said Calleigh. "You've had a long day."
"Yes, I am tired," she said, slurring slightly. She stood up unsteadily, swaying on her feet. "Where's the bedroom?" Horatio stood up, taking her arm, and she leaned heavily on him as Calleigh preceded them down the hall. Together, they got her into bed. She was already snoring before Calleigh turned out the light. There was still no privacy with Peter here, but Horatio gently ran a hand across her back as they started down the hall, and she leaned back into him for a minute.
"Thank you, Horatio," she said as they re-entered the living room. Surely she could say that much in front of Peter.
"I'm glad I could help," he said, limping back across to the armchair he had been sitting in. Mrs. Hayes weighed more than he did, and he had taken much of her weight walking down the hall. With a sigh, Calleigh crossed over to him and knelt on the floor, removing his left shoe and sock. He tightened up but did not protest in front of Peter. She ran her hands lightly over his ankle. It was swollen slightly, but the real problem was obvious. The long scar from the surgery where the doctor had pieced the joint back together with screws now had a dark bruise directly over it. She had kicked him right across the incision. Looking up at him, she apologized silently, and he smiled at her, dismissing the whole incident. "Hang on a second, Horatio." She scrambled up and went into the bathroom.
"What did you do to it?" Peter asked.
"Hit it on a piece of concrete," said Horatio, and Calleigh, coming back from the bathroom, nearly choked again.
"Must have been a big piece," said Peter, eying the scar down his temple, which was obviously the same age. Horatio did not offer any further details, though. "Calleigh, you can have the couch tonight. I'll sleep on the floor."
Calleigh looked up from where she was wrapping Horatio's ankle with an Ace bandage. "I'd rather sleep on the floor, Peter."
"You sure?"
"Positive." It would be too much of a contrast to go from last night, with herself on the couch and Horatio on the floor, to tonight, replacing Horatio with Peter. No thanks, she thought. She pinned the bandage in place, then went back to the kitchen, getting an ice pack out of the freezer, wrapping it against his ankle with a second bandage. Finally, she put his sock and shoe back on, loosening up the laces to make it fit. "Is that better?"
"Much better," he said truthfully. "Thanks, Calleigh."
"So," she said, sitting down on the couch. "What have you been doing with yourself, Peter?"
"I'm an architect. I live in Norfolk these days."
"No wife? Girlfriend? Kids?"
"Nope." Bad genes. He had made a vow to himself not to get involved with anyone. He would never become either of his parents. He smiled at her tentatively. "I've missed you, Cal. I'd like to keep in touch now." He was pretty sure that she wouldn't mind his getting personal in front of her boss, who was obviously a lot more than her boss.
"You could have kept in touch with me without talking to him, you know."
"I know. I just . . . Forgive me, Cal, okay?"
"I'll think about it." He had left her. He was the one who had stood with her through everything their parents rained down on them, and when she was 12, he had left her to face it alone. That was the hard part to forgive.
Peter was afraid to push for any more at the moment. "So you're with CSI now. What's it like?"
Calleigh looked across at Horatio. "How would you describe it?"
"Challenging," he said instantly, "but rewarding."
"Precisely." She looked back at Peter. "How's being an architect?" He started talking about his work, and she opened up a little bit, sharing a few of the cases that had touched her (without names, of course). Horatio threw in a comment here and there but mostly stayed silent, letting them catch up, knowing that Calleigh was more relaxed with him here. Maybe she and Peter could find an understanding. He obviously cared about his work, too, although it was so different from hers.
The clock suddenly struck midnight, rocking Calleigh back to the present. "We'd better get to bed," she said, looking at Horatio, who was looking tired. "Tomorrow will be a long day."
"Right," said Peter. "I think I'll take a quick shower, Cal. You sure you don't want the couch?"
"Positive," she said. "You take it. I'll get out some sheets for us. Would you look in on Mother, Peter?"
"Sure thing." He headed down the hall, and she fished some sheets out of the closet and started making up the couch for him. As soon as they heard the water start running, she dropped the sheets in a pile and turned to Horatio. He was already on his feet, arms open, and she snuggled against him. "I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life, Horatio. You saved me tonight."
He held her close. "I'm glad I could be here. Sorry I couldn't come earlier."
"It's okay." She closed her eyes, leaning against him. "You will come to the funeral tomorrow, won't you?"
"Absolutely. I'm due in court in the morning, but I'll be with you all afternoon."
She pushed away suddenly, worried. "What if court runs over? You know it does sometimes."
"I don't think I'll have a problem getting away. I had a little talk with the DA this afternoon, and he knows I have to leave."
Calleigh snickered. "You had a little talk with him. I would've liked to have seen that."
"Pompous jerk. I must admit, I enjoyed scaring him a little." Calleigh made a mental note to ask Speed or Eric for the full story. She would never get all the details out of Horatio. No point in trying.
"You'd better get home, especially if you have to be in court in the morning. You should have been in bed already, but I'm glad you were here instead. How's the ankle?"
"Better," he said, taking a half loop around the room and back to demonstrate. He really was walking more easily. "You make a wonderful nurse."
"It's the least I could do. Can you possibly forgive me for kicking you this morning?"
"Of course." His eyes held hers, suddenly intense. "Do you know what forgiveness is, Cal?"
"What?" The question confused her.
"It's admitting that there is a fault, but agreeing to move on from it. Forgiveness doesn't mean saying nothing happened. It means that something did happen, but you choose to put it behind you. Not because the other person makes up for it, but by your choice to let it go."
She met his eyes. "Would you forgive him, Horatio? He left me to deal with it alone."
"I don't know," he replied. "I just wanted you to realize what he's asking for, so you could decide."
Not saying that nothing happened. Just choosing to let it go. "I'll think about it," she said, and this time it was a real answer, not a dodge. She hugged him again. "Thank you, Horatio. For everything. Now go home and get to bed."
"You're as bad as Alexx," he said. He kissed her, lingering for another minute, then backed away as the water in the bathroom turned off. "Good night, Calleigh."
***
It was 6:00 AM when Horatio pulled into the deserted CSI garage. He let himself into the building using his ID card in the security lock and made his way up to his office. With court this morning and Calleigh's father's funeral this afternoon, if he wanted any time at all to work on Ray's case, it would have to be early. Still, he felt like a guilty schoolboy sneaking in here before hours, and he found himself half expecting Alexx to pop around a corner.
He unlocked his desk and removed the lists and the notebook. He double checked all of his work from last night. The link was B.A. No question. And B.A. had to be a policeman. He heard Susie again saying, "He said he didn't have to worry about the cops." Someone had protected Chaz. Someone with the authority to do it. And that protection had lasted two years, far longer than Ray's six months on the case. He returned to the personnel records, spending an hour trying to make the pattern and initials fit with any cop. Nothing.
B.A. He wrote the initials on the pad at his desk and stared at them, trying to make them come to life. If it was a nickname, what could it stand for? He reread the first mention of B.A. in Chaz's notebook. "New tough, calls himself B.A." Calls himself B.A. Chaz hadn't given him that name; it was self-chosen. Why? What did it mean? He thought briefly of talking to Chaz himself, but he knew it would accomplish nothing. Chaz would lie to him and enjoy doing it, and Horatio didn't have enough facts to trap an uncooperative witness. He also was afraid that he might actually throw Chaz through a wall, finish what he had started. Horatio knew his limits. Talking to Chaz, facing that sneering arrogance again, would be too much.
Lights flipped on in the labs below, and people started coming in for the day. He'd better get out of here before Alexx caught him. Reluctantly, Horatio locked up the notebook and lists again. He stared at the pad one final time. B.A. "Whoever you are, I will get you," he promised. He picked up the file he would need in court, turned out the office lights, and headed off into a long day.
Phantom of the Opera
***
Calleigh opened the door hopefully. Sometimes hopes are fulfilled. "Horatio! Come on in. We were just about to eat. Have you eaten anything yet?" As he moved past her to let her shut the door, she whispered, for his ears alone, "The cavalry arrives." She closed the door and turned back to face the room, briskly formal again. "Mother, Peter, this is Horatio Caine. I'll get another plate." She bustled into the kitchen, and the remaining three people in the room sized up each other.
Calleigh's mother was a large, soft woman with beagle eyes. Of course, the circumstances were abysmal, but Horatio suddenly felt that she never smiled much, spent her whole life in mourning. She held out one hand like a deposed princess, and he utterly charmed her by taking it and bowing formally. "Wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Hayes." He did not add that he had heard a lot about her. None of it had been good.
Peter was a different type altogether. Thin, dark as his sister was fair, with a feeling of strained restlessness. He was as jumpy as a cat in a strange house. Unsure of his welcome with Calleigh, maybe? Horatio knew that Peter had run away when Calleigh was 12 and he was 14. They had communicated tersely with cards and occasional calls, but there was no real sense of family. Yet he had come to be there for Calleigh now, he said. Maybe it was just his father who had kept him away. Still, he could have seen his sister often enough without contact with his father. Coming was a good step, though, Horatio thought, and Peter's eyes, unlike his mother's, seemed totally grounded in reality. Horatio was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
As they shook hands, Peter tried to size up Calleigh's boss. Horatio was absolutely the most self-assured man he had ever seen, without coming off as arrogant. The eyes were warm but magnetic. This was a strong man, Peter realized, someone who was used to taking the lead. What intrigued him, though, was Calleigh's reaction to him. The electricity was unmistakable. She had started glowing the minute she let him in. Now, as she came back from the kitchen, the same response was there, like a cat purring softly to itself just because the favored person is nearby. In fact, the first thing Peter had noticed when he arrived that afternoon, beneath the overlying sadness, was how happy Calleigh had looked. Now he suddenly knew why. And it bothered him, challenged him, worried him. Are you good enough for her, he wondered, studying this tall redhead. She's been through so much from men. You be careful with her heart.
"Peter, Mother, let's eat." Horatio wasn't left out of that invitation; her eyes had included him and in fact placed him first. They all trooped to the kitchen and settled around the table.
Mrs. Hayes started the conversation. In fact, she dominated it. "Mr. Caine, it is so thoughtful of you to come to express your sympathies at this time. We have had such a tremendous loss, you know. My husband was an utter angel. He touched so many people's lives." Calleigh half choked on a sip of wine. "Yes, he was the sweetest man. But of course, you know that. You met him."
"Yes, I knew him." Horatio managed to sound neutral. Calleigh and Peter were both impressed.
"Then you understand. Such a sense of duty, such a sense of his family." She refilled her wine glass. "We never will be able to replace him." She rambled on throughout the meal, drinking more than a bottle of wine completely on her own in the course of it. Calleigh knew it was useless to stop her and made no effort to try. In fact, the sooner her mother collapsed into a drunken sleep tonight, the sooner the rest of them would stop having to listen to her. She watched Horatio, unaware that Peter was watching her. Horatio was at his courtly best tonight, and her mother, convinced she had found a sounding board who really appreciated her deification of her late husband, rattled on happily. Of course, he probably was 1000 miles away mentally, but he was the picture of alert, kind attention. She stretched out a foot under the table, stroking his leg lightly with it, thanking him for taking the pressure of responsive listening off her for this meal, at least. His eyes met hers with a pure sympathy that melted her. Then he immediately looked back to her mother again.
Peter was impressed in spite of himself. This Horatio Caine could not be taking this glorified, half-drunken obituary seriously. No one could. But few people could have pretended so well. He was deliberately drawing her mother's attention to give Calleigh a break. Thoughtful, Peter added to his mental inventory of Calleigh's boss. Maybe he could give you thoughtfulness lessons, Peter, he told himself. His own thoughts tracked off miles away from the room into the past, and he ate absentmindedly.
After dinner, the group moved to the living room for more of the same. It was almost 10:00 when Mrs. Hayes, who was no longer speaking distinctly, began to trail off in her sentences, like a music box that is winding down. "Mother, you'd better get to bed," said Calleigh. "You've had a long day."
"Yes, I am tired," she said, slurring slightly. She stood up unsteadily, swaying on her feet. "Where's the bedroom?" Horatio stood up, taking her arm, and she leaned heavily on him as Calleigh preceded them down the hall. Together, they got her into bed. She was already snoring before Calleigh turned out the light. There was still no privacy with Peter here, but Horatio gently ran a hand across her back as they started down the hall, and she leaned back into him for a minute.
"Thank you, Horatio," she said as they re-entered the living room. Surely she could say that much in front of Peter.
"I'm glad I could help," he said, limping back across to the armchair he had been sitting in. Mrs. Hayes weighed more than he did, and he had taken much of her weight walking down the hall. With a sigh, Calleigh crossed over to him and knelt on the floor, removing his left shoe and sock. He tightened up but did not protest in front of Peter. She ran her hands lightly over his ankle. It was swollen slightly, but the real problem was obvious. The long scar from the surgery where the doctor had pieced the joint back together with screws now had a dark bruise directly over it. She had kicked him right across the incision. Looking up at him, she apologized silently, and he smiled at her, dismissing the whole incident. "Hang on a second, Horatio." She scrambled up and went into the bathroom.
"What did you do to it?" Peter asked.
"Hit it on a piece of concrete," said Horatio, and Calleigh, coming back from the bathroom, nearly choked again.
"Must have been a big piece," said Peter, eying the scar down his temple, which was obviously the same age. Horatio did not offer any further details, though. "Calleigh, you can have the couch tonight. I'll sleep on the floor."
Calleigh looked up from where she was wrapping Horatio's ankle with an Ace bandage. "I'd rather sleep on the floor, Peter."
"You sure?"
"Positive." It would be too much of a contrast to go from last night, with herself on the couch and Horatio on the floor, to tonight, replacing Horatio with Peter. No thanks, she thought. She pinned the bandage in place, then went back to the kitchen, getting an ice pack out of the freezer, wrapping it against his ankle with a second bandage. Finally, she put his sock and shoe back on, loosening up the laces to make it fit. "Is that better?"
"Much better," he said truthfully. "Thanks, Calleigh."
"So," she said, sitting down on the couch. "What have you been doing with yourself, Peter?"
"I'm an architect. I live in Norfolk these days."
"No wife? Girlfriend? Kids?"
"Nope." Bad genes. He had made a vow to himself not to get involved with anyone. He would never become either of his parents. He smiled at her tentatively. "I've missed you, Cal. I'd like to keep in touch now." He was pretty sure that she wouldn't mind his getting personal in front of her boss, who was obviously a lot more than her boss.
"You could have kept in touch with me without talking to him, you know."
"I know. I just . . . Forgive me, Cal, okay?"
"I'll think about it." He had left her. He was the one who had stood with her through everything their parents rained down on them, and when she was 12, he had left her to face it alone. That was the hard part to forgive.
Peter was afraid to push for any more at the moment. "So you're with CSI now. What's it like?"
Calleigh looked across at Horatio. "How would you describe it?"
"Challenging," he said instantly, "but rewarding."
"Precisely." She looked back at Peter. "How's being an architect?" He started talking about his work, and she opened up a little bit, sharing a few of the cases that had touched her (without names, of course). Horatio threw in a comment here and there but mostly stayed silent, letting them catch up, knowing that Calleigh was more relaxed with him here. Maybe she and Peter could find an understanding. He obviously cared about his work, too, although it was so different from hers.
The clock suddenly struck midnight, rocking Calleigh back to the present. "We'd better get to bed," she said, looking at Horatio, who was looking tired. "Tomorrow will be a long day."
"Right," said Peter. "I think I'll take a quick shower, Cal. You sure you don't want the couch?"
"Positive," she said. "You take it. I'll get out some sheets for us. Would you look in on Mother, Peter?"
"Sure thing." He headed down the hall, and she fished some sheets out of the closet and started making up the couch for him. As soon as they heard the water start running, she dropped the sheets in a pile and turned to Horatio. He was already on his feet, arms open, and she snuggled against him. "I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life, Horatio. You saved me tonight."
He held her close. "I'm glad I could be here. Sorry I couldn't come earlier."
"It's okay." She closed her eyes, leaning against him. "You will come to the funeral tomorrow, won't you?"
"Absolutely. I'm due in court in the morning, but I'll be with you all afternoon."
She pushed away suddenly, worried. "What if court runs over? You know it does sometimes."
"I don't think I'll have a problem getting away. I had a little talk with the DA this afternoon, and he knows I have to leave."
Calleigh snickered. "You had a little talk with him. I would've liked to have seen that."
"Pompous jerk. I must admit, I enjoyed scaring him a little." Calleigh made a mental note to ask Speed or Eric for the full story. She would never get all the details out of Horatio. No point in trying.
"You'd better get home, especially if you have to be in court in the morning. You should have been in bed already, but I'm glad you were here instead. How's the ankle?"
"Better," he said, taking a half loop around the room and back to demonstrate. He really was walking more easily. "You make a wonderful nurse."
"It's the least I could do. Can you possibly forgive me for kicking you this morning?"
"Of course." His eyes held hers, suddenly intense. "Do you know what forgiveness is, Cal?"
"What?" The question confused her.
"It's admitting that there is a fault, but agreeing to move on from it. Forgiveness doesn't mean saying nothing happened. It means that something did happen, but you choose to put it behind you. Not because the other person makes up for it, but by your choice to let it go."
She met his eyes. "Would you forgive him, Horatio? He left me to deal with it alone."
"I don't know," he replied. "I just wanted you to realize what he's asking for, so you could decide."
Not saying that nothing happened. Just choosing to let it go. "I'll think about it," she said, and this time it was a real answer, not a dodge. She hugged him again. "Thank you, Horatio. For everything. Now go home and get to bed."
"You're as bad as Alexx," he said. He kissed her, lingering for another minute, then backed away as the water in the bathroom turned off. "Good night, Calleigh."
***
It was 6:00 AM when Horatio pulled into the deserted CSI garage. He let himself into the building using his ID card in the security lock and made his way up to his office. With court this morning and Calleigh's father's funeral this afternoon, if he wanted any time at all to work on Ray's case, it would have to be early. Still, he felt like a guilty schoolboy sneaking in here before hours, and he found himself half expecting Alexx to pop around a corner.
He unlocked his desk and removed the lists and the notebook. He double checked all of his work from last night. The link was B.A. No question. And B.A. had to be a policeman. He heard Susie again saying, "He said he didn't have to worry about the cops." Someone had protected Chaz. Someone with the authority to do it. And that protection had lasted two years, far longer than Ray's six months on the case. He returned to the personnel records, spending an hour trying to make the pattern and initials fit with any cop. Nothing.
B.A. He wrote the initials on the pad at his desk and stared at them, trying to make them come to life. If it was a nickname, what could it stand for? He reread the first mention of B.A. in Chaz's notebook. "New tough, calls himself B.A." Calls himself B.A. Chaz hadn't given him that name; it was self-chosen. Why? What did it mean? He thought briefly of talking to Chaz himself, but he knew it would accomplish nothing. Chaz would lie to him and enjoy doing it, and Horatio didn't have enough facts to trap an uncooperative witness. He also was afraid that he might actually throw Chaz through a wall, finish what he had started. Horatio knew his limits. Talking to Chaz, facing that sneering arrogance again, would be too much.
Lights flipped on in the labs below, and people started coming in for the day. He'd better get out of here before Alexx caught him. Reluctantly, Horatio locked up the notebook and lists again. He stared at the pad one final time. B.A. "Whoever you are, I will get you," he promised. He picked up the file he would need in court, turned out the office lights, and headed off into a long day.