Disclaimer: This is solely for the enjoyment of the readership. There is no intent to infringe on characters owned by CBS.
Rating: PG
Sharpshooter – 5
Eric drove Calleigh back to the Lab where she retrieved her car and began to pull things together. It was early afternoon.
"My cell?" she asked Tim.
Speed looked up from his duties and nodded, "Over here."
He produced a small paper sack with personal items he'd brought back from the scene. Calleigh dumped the contents on the desk and sorted through them. As she sorted, she carefully touched each item belonging to Horatio.
"So how's 'H'?" Tim waited a moment for her to collect her thoughts.
"I'm hopeful. I think he'll be okay," she tried putting a chipper sound in her voice.
Tim continued to look at her.
Hesitantly he began, "You got any idea how many rounds you fired off out there?"
"Tim, we shouldn't go there. You know I've got a shooting review board to go to," Calleigh started then changed subjects slightly, "Where'd you leave the weapons?"
"Why?"
"What I shoot; I clean. Besides, I need something to do that's not going to require me to think much. I'm just exhausted," she finished.
"After I ran the ballistics, I left them all with Chester at the Armory – pistols and rifles. I'm sorry I did not have time to clean them myself, but…" he paused and motioned to the piles scattered on tables around him.
She nodded, "Eric's got the fragments they pulled out of Horatio. If he needs me, you know where I'll be," she concluded before leaving.
Chester was waiting for her when she arrived at his desk, "Ready to scrub?"
Calleigh smiled, "Sure Chester. Just point me to the vats."
"God I love a woman who knows how to clean," he teased. "You wanna do dinner tonight, beautiful?"
"As long as you do the dishes, handsome," she teased back.
"Well that leaves me out I guess," he smiled. "My wife expects me to do the dishes when I get home. Two sets are one set too many," he laughed.
Calleigh laughed along as the buzzer gave her admission to the back room.
Chester joined her with the weapons and tools, "Sorry, we still don't have extra small gloves. But I did manage to get a small pair. Hope those work," he said as he laid it all out on the table in front of the vats of solvent.
"Thanks, Chester. I'll be done in a few hours. How late you gonna be here?"
"As long as you need," he paused. "How's the Lieutenant?"
"Oh, I think he'll be okay. They have chased me out of his room I don't know how many times already. Anyhow, it was enough chasing for one day," she remarked.
Chester turned to leave her alone.
Calleigh turned back toward him, "Chester, can you make sure nobody disturbs me back here. I need some down time, you know."
"You got it Detective," he offered with a genuine smile, "You are my favourite."
"That's only because I know how to clean a weapon properly," she reposted with a gentle giggle.
In the space of half an hour, all the weapons were broken down, barrels soaking in the tank of solvent. Carefully and methodically, Calleigh moved from one firing pin to the next then to the receivers and so forth until each component piece had been inspected and cleaned.
She removed the barrels and ran the brush and patches through them until there was not the slightest bit of residue remaining inside or outside. In another half hour, Calleigh had reassembled the four weapons.
"Chester," she started, "Those rifles were in terrible shape. I know that we only put at the most, two clips through them. They looked like they hadn't been cleaned in ages. You might want to check the records for the last three shooters. They need lessons on maintenance."
"Well why do you think I gave them to you?" he joked. "But seriously, I will go back through and see. Thanks for the head's up."
She handed him Horatio's sidearm as she replaced hers in the holster on her hip.
"I'm sorry Detective, but I need you to leave your weapon here, too," Chester was chagrinned.
Calleigh nodded and relinquished it to the Armory. She concluded by signing all the appropriate documentation and left.
She got in her car and leaned back against the headrest. Calleigh closed her eyes for a few moments. All she could see in front of her was the shootout and Horatio being shot. It played over and over again like a "B" movie. After taking one long controlled breath she headed back to work even though it was nearly six in the evening on Thursday.
She was greeting by Internal Affairs and their paperwork. The Shooting Review Board was scheduled for the beginning of next week. She had the weekend to get ready. She also had the weekend to see Horatio and ask him about that picture and what it meant. Part of her was afraid to ask; part of her hoped that she might be more than family.
Nearly as soon as she dropped her car keys in the fish bowl by the door, the phone rang. It was Hagen.
"Yes, John," she began as she peeled out of clothes that seemed glued to her body with sweat.
"You okay? I went looking for you, but nobody knew where you were," he asked.
"I went with Horatio to the hospital. They flew him from the scene in a chopper. It was a miserable ride; I really hate flying," she answered even though the last thing she wanted to do was talk about it.
"I know that. But why didn't you call me? I can be over in less than half an hour," he persisted.
"No thanks. I just want to climb in to the tub and relax. It's kind of you to offer," she replied in her gracious way.
"I just thought you might need me," he went on.
"I'm okay, really," Calleigh paused, "I need some time alone. Okay?"
The conversation was at an end. Foxy, her Siamese was calling to her. Gently, she picked up the old cat and hugged her close on her shoulder. For a little while, she just listened to the soothing sounds of the cat purring before putting Foxy back onto the couch. Calleigh headed off to the tub as Foxy jogged after her. All she could think about was hot water and lots of bubbles.
